"The only paradise is paradise lost"

-Marcel Proust

The first thing Leon felt was pain. It started behind his eyes, a rhythmic throbbing that matched the beating of his heart. A pain that he was more than used to, having spent the last few months either hung-over or drunk. But it wasn't long before he felt the rest; a sharp pain in his forearm, a dull ache at the bottom of one of his legs and a knot in his back that seemed to tie every muscle in his body into a tight, screwed up mess.

He opened one eye, slowly, prepared for the sunlight that would inevitably blind him at first. It did and, for a moment, all he saw was bright white light. It was peaceful.

Then his eyesight adjusted and he saw the Molerat gnawing on his right arm. He grunted, both in pain and surprise, and tried to kick himself away. But his left leg wouldn't work and when he looked down he found another one of the hairless mammals chewing on it. It looked up at him and gave him a low roaw before resuming its feast.

Without another thought his body moved into action, his right leg kicking at the second creature while his left arm tried to beat the first off. Neither succeeded, the Molerats continuing their chewing, undeterred by his weak attempts to get them off. He thought of his pistol, strapped to his right thigh, and realised he wouldn't be able to reach it. But his knife sat on his left hip and he scrambled for it, pulling it out left-handed, blade facing down. He rolled to his right, bringing his left arm down with as much force as he could and drove the knife to the hilt into the creature's skull. It whimpered in surprise then slumped over.

He didn't bother to check it. With his right hand, despite the lance of pain that shot up his arm, he pulled out his pistol and fired. The second creature had looked up at the sound of the first's demise and had enough time to see the muzzle flash before its head disappeared in an explosion of gore. The force of such a close shot rocked it backwards, sending it first onto its ass then onto its back before it stopped and lay still, blood pouring from the gaping wound where its head should have been.

Leon let his body go limp and sighed. His back was still sore, his arm and leg were aching and his head wasn't feeling any better, but at least he wasn't being eaten alive anymore.

It's the small things. That's what Sarah would have told him. Be happy with the small things.

He tried to sit up, managed it but was swaying so much he felt he hadn't. The world was tipping, spinning its way around him and he had to lean on his left hand to steady himself. He thought about standing up, took another look at the world doing loops around his head and decided it might be better to get to his knees first.

Using his left arm, he lifted himself up enough to swing his first leg around, then twisted the other so he was on his knees facing forward. He straightened his back, trying to stretch out the knot, sucking in a deep breath of fresh air and almost fell flat on his face again as the world began whirling more violently.

He was sucking in deep, shallow breaths now, his left arm supporting him above the ground. He continued like that, felt the saliva welling in the back of his throat, then vomited. The knot twinged, his arm and head throbbed harder.

The little things said Sarah's voice.

Christ, how he hated the little things.

Leon vomited, the bile mixing with the blood pooling around his feet. He took a look at the two security guards, both dead, both with blood still sliding out of them. He felt another surge of vomit but managed to hold it back, barely.

He had grown up with stories about heroes; Grognak the Barbarian, Captain America, Dirk Daring, Saint Sylva, all of them good men and all of them killers. He had expected death to be easy and, in a way, it was. That's probably the thing that sickened him the most.

Not the dead men staring up at him with hollow, lifeless eyes, nor the blood that covered most of the floor, part of the wall and even a little patch on the ceiling, but how easy it had been for him to do it all.

He played everything over in his head again. He could remember throwing the bat, shooting the gun, even smiling when the fat man died. But he didn't remember physically doing those things; he had no memory of how the bat felt or how the gun had recoiled. It was like recalling a pictofilm he had watched, only this was from his perspective.

Another lot of vomit readied itself in his stomach and he turned wildly, looking for a way out. At the end of the hallway stood a door, a simple hunk of metal like almost every other door in the Vault. He rushed over to it, careful to avoid stepping in the pools of blood, and touched the button on the side to open it.

Nothing happened.

He pushed it again and this time a voice answered him.

"CODE 917 IN PROGRESS" the robotic voice told him. "NO PERMITTANCE TO VAULT DOOR WITHOUT AUTHORIZATION FROM THE OVERSEER. ALL UNAUTHORIZED PERSONS ARE TO PROCEED TO THEIR QUARTERS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. CODE 917 IN..." It continued, repeating the same message a second and third time before finally shutting off.

Leon knew he should have seen this coming. Amata had said he needed to go through the Overseer's office if he was going to get out, and why would he have needed to do that if a lockdown wasn't in place?

He sighed and turned back to the blood and bodies. He felt the urge to vomit again just looking at them but he knew he had to go through them, one way or another. And his father had always told him if you need to do something, it's better just to do it.

So, holding one hand over his mouth, he gingerly made his way through, trying to keep one eye on where his feet were going while avoiding looking at the bodies, blood, puke, or the concoction the last two had made when combined. It was slow going and, when he finally made it back to the Atrium, he vomited again, loudly, gripping the wall for support as his whole body heaved.

He sucked in a deep, harsh breath, then hawked and spat, trying to get the taste of vomit out of his mouth. It got a little of it out and for that he was grateful.

He stumbled away, feeling nauseous, and headed towards the door that he knew led to the Overseer's office. He went through it, entering another bright hallway, identical to all the others in the Vault. He continued walking, stumbling, still nauseous, and came across a window.

A man was pounding his fists against it. His tanned face was stretched tight over an expression of both fear and anger, his red baseball cap sitting snug on his head.

Allen Mack. A retired security guard, but he hadn't lost the viciousness he had in his youth and passed to his son. He was bellowing something about being trapped but, when he saw Leon, he stopped and the fear left his face.

"You!" he said, his handlebar moustache bending as his lips turned into an animal snarl. "Look what your father's done. All of this is your fault, both of you, and you'll get yours you bastards. You hear me!"

He was shouting now, right at the top of his voice, but Leon ignored him. It was enough of an effort just to walk, one hand clutching his stomach and another close to his mouth, just in case.

He rounded a corner and bumped into another security guard, another dark skinned man. Security Chief Hannon, Leon saw. The pair went down on the ground in a surprised heap, then Hannon realised who he had bumped into.

"You!" he said, trying to get his arm free so he could use his baton.

Leon held him tightly though and felt the same feeling before begin to creep into his body. The feeling of weightlessness, of having an out of body experience. He saw, through his eyes, his head surge forward, breaking Hannon's nose in a vicious head butt. The man rolled away, clutching at the wound, and Leon got back to his feet, a smile tugging at his lips as he raised the gun at the man's head.

NO!

Leon screamed it so loud he thought his head would explode, only he realised no words had come out, not even a groan or a whimper. Still, to his relief, he found himself back in control of his body.

"Just...stay down, all right? I don't want to kill you," he said, waving the gun at the man in what he hoped was a menacing way.

Hannon spat out some blood and wiped a hand across his bleeding nose. He was staring intently at the barrel of the pistol but, even down on the ground, still looked intimidating to Leon.

"There'll be hell to pay for this," the man said coldly. "You and your father will rot!"

"Fine, just don't move, understand? I'll kill you if I have to and you wouldn't be the first..."

"So John and Ben are dead? I heard the shots, figured it was them. That makes you a killer kid, a cold blooded murderer. We're going to string you up from the rafters and listen to the rope creak while you swing. You hear me? You hear me?"

The man was yelling down the corridor now, but Leon had already left. There was no point in staying, he knew, and if he stayed any longer he was liable to just hand himself over. Because Hannon was right; he was a killer now. A cold blooded murderer.

And he deserved to hang for it.

He made it around the next corner and froze. A window opened up into the room ahead and, inside, Amata sat on a chair, staring further off into the room.

"Amata?" Leon whispered.

"Where is he?" came the Overseer's voice. It was muffled and while Leon couldn't see him, he knew the man was in the room as well. "Come now dear, you're a good girl, aren't you?"

"But Leon didn't do anything," she answered, exasperated. "He's not a bad person..."

"Damn it Amata, this is not the time for your childish crushes!" the Overseer snapped. "Tell me where he is or where he's going. We know you helped him."

"No Dad, I won't. This is wrong, all of it!" she shouted and, through the glass, Leon could see tears welling at the corners of her eyes.

There was a moment of silence before the Overseer's voice returned.

"Fine," he said, a hint of sadness in his voice. "Mack, get it out of her."

"With pleasure," Mack answered and Leon could just imagine the sadistic grin on the man's face. He saw the man step into view, advancing on Amata. He was wearing the standard Vault security uniform; blue shirt and pants under a black bulletproof vest. His brown hair was cut short, almost to the scalp, and he held his baton loosely and with practiced grace.

Leon again felt the weightlessness, the feeling of losing control. Only this time, he didn't care. He knew he could avoid the whole situation, knew that if he wanted to get out his best chance was to leave now while the Overseer and his right hand man were busy. But he couldn't leave her like that. So he gave into whatever beast was inside him, clawing at his insides to be let free, and watched as his vision clouded with red.

He moved towards the door to the room and opened it. The thick metal slid upwards with a hiss and, when he entered, both men turned to look at him; the older, dark skinned Overseer and the younger Steve Mack, a sadistic smile on his face, just like Leon had expected.

"Well, all this time spent looking for you and you show up here anyway," the Overseer said happily. "Mack, call off the alarm, tell them we've got him. Now Leon, we're going to have a little talk..."

He trailed off as he saw the pistol in Leon's hand. "And what, I wonder, do you plan to do with that?" he asked.

Mack, who had been striding over to an intercom on the far wall, turned and saw the pistol as well. He instantly went into a crouch, ready to pounce, baton in hand and his eyes wary.

"You'll see," Leon said with a smile of his own. He reached over to the door controls and pushed the button to close it.

Leon was able to sit up without feeling nauseous now, the worst of his sickness over. His pack had been left a few feet from him and, while a lot of the contents were strewn haphazardly around it, he was relieved to find that most were still there. His medical supplies, ammunition, food, all of it had been left. Most of his caps were gone but he didn't care about them. With diplomacy having failed he didn't really need them anymore.

The first thing he did was take a good look at his wounds. He had known his arm would be bad. It hurt a lot more than the bite on his leg, the Molerat having chewed right through his thick leather duster. It was still throbbing, even now, so he sprayed some antiseptic liquid on it and bandaged it as carefully as he could. He hoped that would be enough, but doubted it. Only time would tell for sure, but he had a feeling that Molerat had given him more than a bite; maybe a simple wasteland infection or, worse, the Rot. Still, there was nothing he could do about it now so he turned his attention to his leg.

Like he had suspected this wound wasn't anywhere near as bad. The second Molerat had barely broken through his pants and most of the damage looked barely skin deep. He still gave it a spray of antiseptic though and then wrapped it tightly. It stung to walk on, and the antiseptic was stinging both his wounds now, but it would do.

He found his rifle next, lying amongst a scattering of rocks. He was surprised initially to find it, assuming the slavers would have taken it. He was so surprised he didn't believe it was his at first and only after he had stripped it down and rebuilt it twice did he accept that it was and that nothing was wrong with it. A few shells had been fired from it and the bolt had several scratches on it, meaning whoever had fired it last had been overly rough with it, but it still worked. If he had to guess, he would say they wanted it to look like he had fought and lost against whatever ended up eating him.

Smart, he thought with a kind of begrudging respect.

He reloaded both his weapons, slung his pack over his back, ate a few strips of jerked beef that had been left in his pack and then, after checking the map on his Pip-Boy, began walking back towards Paradise Falls.

His mind strayed to the last thing Eulogy had said; And besides, I've already got a buyer for the blonde came the man's suave voice.

Leon started walking faster.

The door shut with a louder than usual clang behind Leon, but none of the men jumped. They stayed as they were, Mack and the Overseer looking at Leon, Leon's eyes flicking from one to the other. After a moment of silence the Overseer sighed loudly.

"Enough of this," he said, sounding almost bored. "Mack, get that pistol off him."

Leon turned and saw Mack stepping towards him. He didn't hesitate; the pistol rose and fired, the bullet entering Mack's head somewhere around the nose and covering the wall and the intercom behind him with his brains. His legs crumpled and his body crashed to the floor with a thud.

Amata shrieked and the Overseer gasped with genuine surprise, his eyes wide as they took in the body of his dead enforcer. He turned to look back at Leon, who had his arm back down against his side now.

"What have you done?" he asked softly.

"What I had to," Leon said coldly. "Amata, let's go."

"No, you can't..." the Overseer began.

"You were going to torture your own daughter!" Leon hissed, taking a step towards the Overseer who backed away from the man almost half his age.

Leon felt something touch his arm, looked down and saw it was Amata's arm.

"Come on Leon, let's go," she said sadly, her eyes looking with disgust at her father. "He's not worth it..."

"You don't know what you're doing," the Overseer shouted. "You'll kill us all!"

An image of Jonas flashed through Leon's mind.

"No, just you," Leon said coldly. Before he could help himself he felt the muscles in his arm bunching, pulling themselves up so the pistol was level with the other man. The Overseer stepped back, covering himself with his hand.

"No Leon!" Amata screamed. Leon hesitated, her voice cutting through the haze of red. The gun still went off, bucking hard against his hand, but it was pointed down. The bullet hit the Overseer in the leg, shattering his knee and sending him toppling to the floor with a roar of pain.

"My leg!" he bellowed. "Oh god, my LEG!"

"Leon, what have you done?" Amata shrieked.

Leon turned and stared at her dumbly. He felt like he had just woken up from a dream and was still shaking the sleep off. He looked down at the pistol that suddenly weighed a thousand tons in his hand, then at her pained face as she was looking at her father writhing on the floor in pain and felt nothing but confusion.

"Come...come on," she said after a moment. "We've got to go..."

She grabbed him and half led, half dragged him from the room. He saw out of the corner of his eye that she took one long last look at her father before joining him.

The Overseer's office was only down the hall. The alarms were barely audible in the well furnished room and Leon moved quickly towards the circular desk that sat in the middle. There was a computer on top of it and he turned it on, sitting in the roller chair as he did.

"What's the password?" he asked Amata.

"Uh...I don't know."

"What? You're kidding?"

"No I'm not," she snapped. "Why the hell would he have given me access to his computer?"

"Uh," Leon managed, caught off guard by her anger. "You're his daughter?"

She huffed angrily and walked over to a bookcase set against one of the walls. It was filled from floor to ceiling with thick white folders. She ran her hands along them and then picked one out, flicking through it.

"I'll look through these, maybe he left a clue for it somewhere. You try some passwords and see if they work."

"Like what?"

"Like anything," she answered.

He sighed and turned his attention to the computer. He typed in "Amata" and got a try again message. He tried "Vault 101" but that didn't work either. He looked across the desk and saw a Grognak comic lying open under some paper, so he typed that in and, not surprisingly, that wasn't it either. And now the computer was telling him it would lockdown if he failed again.

It was then that he noticed a small line of text at the bottom of the screen. It said "F2: System". He pressed the F2 button and the normal screen was replaced by lines of code. He was skimming through some of it when he realised that he recognised some of it.

Jonas had been teaching him basic computer skills for years now and he could see chunks of the code he recognised; one that dealt with the colour of the screen, another that determined the size of the password input button. He kept skimming until he found something referencing the password.

He didn't understand it completely as most of the code was above his head, but he did recognise one line; checkPASSWORD(TRUE/FALSE). That one, if he was right, checked the password given against the actual password.

He grabbed the mouse and highlighted it then moved his finger to the "DELETE" button, but didn't press it. He had no idea what deleting that code might do. It could lock him out permanently, it could even crash the entire computer.

He closed his eyes and pushed down. When he opened his eyes again the screen had returned to its initial look and asked him to input the password again, just like before. He sighed and, frustrated, pressed "ENTER" on a whim. The computer thanked him and went to its main menu.

"Amata?"

"Yeah?"

"I think...I think I got it," he said, still not believing it. She dropped the folder in her hands and rushed over to him, unable to hide the surprise on her face.

"Leon, how did you..." she started, then shook her head. "It doesn't matter. There, that opens the way through to the Vault door."

Leon grabbed the mouse and clicked on what she was pointing at, a small line that said "OPEN OVERSEER'S TUNNEL". There was a loud hissing sound from beneath him and both of them backed away from the computer. The floor began to shake slightly before the metal around the desk pulled away. The desk itself began to rise, pistons groaning under the weight, and Leon could clearly see a set of stairs leading down.

"Come on," Amata said, grabbing him by the hand and leading him down the stairs. "We're almost there."

Leon had seen the smoke almost two hours ago and feared the worst. But he hadn't even considered this.

Paradise Falls was little more than smoking ruin. The wall around it seemed to be fine, but several of the buildings were on fire and the rest had burnt out a while ago. He un-slung his rifle from his shoulder and made his way through the gate. There was no guard and no body, just a small pile of ash next to an assault rifle and a burnt out cigarette. The wind picked up a little as Leon passed and the ash was blown further into the compound. He moved inside, careful to check for anything dangerous.

There were no bodies here either, just more piles of ash alongside guns and spent ammunition. The lights that had crisscrossed above were now all lying on the ground, the buildings they were attached to long gone. There were clear signs of battle; bullet holes pock marking several of the building walls, a couple of circular burn marks on an upturned table. Leon made his way over to one of the piles of ash, knelt down and brushed some away with his hand. A tuft of hair stood up, dark orange in colour, and another brush revealed a couple of teeth.

He sighed and looked around the compound again. He moved on, looking for bodies, but there were none. He found what he thought was Eulogy, although there was no way to be sure, a scrap of red velvet wasn't exactly a perfect way to identify someone, and he recognised the rusted machine gun next to another ash pile, but apart from that it was all the same; ash was ash.

He eventually found the slave pen and almost collapsed. Several more piles of ash were dotted around the fenced enclosure and Leon hurried inside, almost stumbling as he brushed at them, looking for anything that might indicate Sarah; blonde hair, Brotherhood tags, anything. He hoped he wouldn't find anything but had the sick feeling that he would, that the next pile would have blonde hair in it, or the one after that.

But none of them did. He did, however, find the first full body since he had entered Paradise Falls.

The man had been a slave, judging by the rags he wore and his mud covered skin. He was lying face down in the door of the small shed that served as the slaves' quarters and, after a quick check inside that revealed nothing, Leon knelt down next to the man.

Rolling him over revealed a harsh burn in his chest. Leon felt it with his fingers, moved the skin a little, could just make out the small hole that was the actual wound and not just the burnt skin around it. He wiped his fingers clean against the man's rags and stood up. A laser wound, Leon had seen enough in his time to be sure.

His first thought was the Brotherhood, but that didn't make sense. It was certainly the kind of message Leon knew they would like to send the slavers in the region, but if they could do this Lyons would never have sent for him in the first place. Besides, a quick glance at the tracks showed none that could be the deep impressions of a Power Armour boot.

Kneeling down, he took a closer look at what tracks there were. There wasn't much to look at; most of the tracks blended into each other, and the loose topsoil didn't help either. But the signs were still there, if you knew where to look.

And Leon did.

He moved around the compound, following what tracks he could, slowly developing an idea of what had happened. He double, then triple checked what he had found.

"One man?" he whispered. "No, it...it can't..."

You've stepped into something big, my boy, came his father's voice from the back of his mind.

Leon sighed and began to look around again. He hoped, prayed, there was a bottle of liquor left whole in this place. He really needed a drink.

Leon and Amata ran down the narrow concrete tunnel, Amata still leading them. It was cramped, the space barely six feet high, the walls narrow. It was shorter than he expected and it wasn't long before they reached the end, the tunnel opening into a small room with computers lining walls to either side of them and a door in front of them.

"Come on," she said, moving towards it.

"How do you know about this stuff?" he asked her.

"Dad had me run through this place a few times, just in case," she answered with a shrug.

"But he didn't give you the password to get in?"

She paused. "No...I don't know, he's a control freak. You know how he is."

Leon nodded. After today, he knew exactly what that bastard was like.

She reached over to a button on the side of the door and pushed it, the door sliding upwards with a hiss of air. Ahead of them was the Vault entrance; the large, cog shaped door to their left, currently closed; the regular door to their right that led further into the Vault. Directly in front of them was a set of stairs, railings on either side, and past that sat a console. Amata moved over to it.

"Uh...I think it's this one," he heard her say, then watched as she pulled a level down on the console.

Alarms started blaring, yellow flashing lights coming on. There was a loud metallic scrapping sound as a large tube shaped object descended from the ceiling, then extended towards the cog-door. The scraping stopped as the object locked into place on the door, then the scraping sound returned, louder than before, as the tube pulled the cog-door back and then rolled it to the side.

Outside was a small cave, the walls slick with dew, and at the end a small wooden door, light peering in through the cracks.

"Good work," Leon said happily. "Now let's go before they catch up..."

"I'm not going," Amata said.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Why?"

"I think you know why..."

"Your father?" he asked unbelievingly. "Amata, he was willing to torture you. Do you get that?"

"Of course I do," she snapped. "But he needs me now. Now he's a cripple!" Her eyes were blazing, the anger from her father's office returned in full force.

"So this is it then, is it?" he asked softly.

She sighed. "It's not just him. They all need me, everyone in the Vault, especially after today. And...it's home. I can't just leave it behind."

"And I can?" he asked angrily.

"I'm sorry about everything," she said, her turn to speak softly. "But yeah, you have to go. And Leon, you can't come back...ever"

He felt his jaw tighten, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her. She kept his gaze for a few seconds, then had to turn away, looking at the floor, the ceiling, the door back to the Vault, anywhere but him.

"Fine. Goodbye Amata," he said coldly. "I hope you all kill each other."

"Wait, Leon-" she started, but she was cut off as the door behind her hissed open, several security guards stepping through.

"There he is, stop him!" one of them shouted and several started shooting.

Leon stumbled back, mostly surprised, hit the railing and went over it, crashing onto the floor next to the cog-door. He heard Amata screaming for them to stop, then just screaming, but it didn't register in his brain. It had gone back into survival mode, like it had before, with the security guards in the Atrium and then again with Mack and the Overseer.

He scrambled to his feet and rushed for that wooden door. The guards were still firing and he heard the bullets zinging overhead, even felt a few as they passed near him. He was running as hard as he could towards that door and, even if he had wanted too, couldn't stop.

He crashed through it, breaking it off its hinges and tumbling out into the world beyond. He was blinded by the light, brighter than he had ever seen in the Vault.

After a few moments his eyes adjusted and he got to his feet. His shoulder hurt from hitting the door, as did most of the rest of him, sore from all the running and fighting he had done in the last hour or so. He heard the scraping sound behind him as the Vault door was closed but didn't care. That part of his life was done with, he knew that. And as he took in the landscape around him, the rugged, barren wasteland and the ruined city far off in the distance, only one thought found its way into his head;

He had to find his father.