Charity leant back, shuffling her back slightly into comfort on the cold, metal seats in the vertibird cabin. Out of the corner of her eye she looked around at the rest of the sad characters inhabiting the same space; the scrawny, whimpering psychic, the tanned psychopath, the bitch Farilla, the Regenerating Man...and the Courier, Sam.
She had heard stories about him, just like everyone had. The Enclave wasn't...hadn't, she corrected herself, been lax in gathering as much information about the outside world as possible. The leaders at the Stand hadn't wanted another RIG situation.
So much for that, she snorted mentally.
She found her eyes lingering on Sam, something that she noticed happening with more and more regularity ever since she'd been captured. His rugged face, his uncertain but determined look, everything about him just seemed to interest her. It was beginning to get almost uncontrollable...
She tore her eyes from him with an angry snort. Only she was in control of her body.
She leant her head back, letting it rest gently against the metal walls, and closed her eyes, feeling the coldness seep into her head and bring her a moment of peace. She let her body relax, let her muscles stretch out comfortably. Her mind began to wander all on its own and she decided not to stop it.
She was in a small room. Her room, she remembered, from when she was a child. A few toys were scattered around, the large bed dominating the rest of the space. There was a knock on the large wooden door, which creaked open ominously. Her father came in with another man, a scruffy, ugly man. Her mother was behind them, in the hall, a worried look on her face. Her father was counting with his hands and the man handed him a bag that jiggled as it moved. Then her parents were gone and it was just that man left, a hungry grin on his face, looming over her. His hands reached out, stroking her face, stroking her shoulder, moving down, over her chest, then across her hips...
She jerked uncontrollably but it wasn't enough to shake her from the dream state. Now she was in that clearing, tied up, helpless. The men in dark leather were laughing as one of their own leant over her, unbuckling his belt, pushing his hands into places they weren't allowed to go. At the time she had flashed back to when she was a child, the ugly man leering over her, touching her in the same places. She was as helpless as she'd ever been and nothing horrified her more. She heard her breathing become ragged, her eyes as wide open as they could get, not wanting to watch but unable to look away either.
And then the man's head had exploded and the Courier had saved them all.
She opened her eyes, looked over at him. He had his arms folded now, head on his shoulder. He looked like he was asleep. It seemed strange to her, considering the company he was in, but then everything he did seemed strange to her.
The way she caught him looking at her, the way he had given her so much trust. More than he should have, more than she would have, if everything had been reversed. Her fingers gently stroked the plasma pistol strapped to her thigh. He had even let her keep the pistol. Her, a prisoner not even a few days ago, now armed and in a perfect position to kill him. It didn't make any sense to her. And that annoyed her.
Ever since that day as a child she had wanted to understand everyone and everything and, so far, she had been successful. She stayed quiet, listened, paid attention to things others didn't and felt like she knew how the world and the people in it worked. The world was harsh, unforgiving, and the people even more so. They were your friends only as long as you were useful.
Yet she was still alive, still armed, and Sam seemed unconcerned by either. She knew she had outlived her usefulness and was nothing more than a liability now. His lack of action made no sense to her, unless he still had a use for her.
She froze. What use do all men have for women?
But as she turned to look at him, she found herself dismissing the idea. It just...didn't fit, that was the only way she could describe it, and all it did was make her more confused than ever.
But the strangest thing, above all, had been his utter belief in her story about the one they called Abigail. Charity had told the truth but, still, she hadn't expected her word to be believed as readily as it was. She had expected to be thrown out the vertibird the moment she opened her mouth to tell them, actually.
In fact, if she was honest she didn't believe the events that had happened herself, despite seeing them with her own eyes...
Charity stretched awkwardly, her arms restrained behind her back, her body resting against a large stone. A few metres in front of her the small group of captors had built their camp site; the Regenerating Man among them. She had been trying to find a rock, anything, to cut through her restraints for the last few hours but, sadly, she found nothing.
Laughter echoed out from one of the men, the obvious leader. There was something interesting about him, though Charity chose to ignore it. He tossed a small flask to another man, the larger one with the power armour, who took a mouthful of whatever was inside. Judging by their good moods, Charity guessed it was liquor.
This continued for a long while, each of them taking mouthfuls of the liquid in the flask, until finally they all laid down and went to sleep. If Charity had been focused she might have thought it strange that they all laid down at the exact same time, but she wasn't, so she didn't. She was too busy struggling to get herself free of the surprisingly well-tied bonds that wrapped around her wrists.
She stopped her efforts when she heard movement from the camp, looking on with mild curiosity as the brunette haired woman got up and stretched, casting a mildly curious look of her own over her sleeping companions.
Charity feigned sleep as the woman walked away from the camp and, when Charity was sure she was gone, she resumed work on freeing herself.
That was, until she heard the footsteps.
Heavy, booted, moving with careful precision. Trained footsteps, wearing heavy armour. Enclave soldiers.
She let herself hope for a moment that it would be Abercrombie, had thought for sure that it would have been, but it was nothing more than the ordinary rank and file that poured into the clearing, moving over to the campsite.
"That's right...the big one too, he's going to be my gift," ordered a female voice brightly.
The woman re-appeared, one hand on her hip, her other sweeping around the campsite in an attempt to direct the soldiers. They moved carefully, two of them picking up the Regenerating Man and dragging him away before another two grabbed the larger man in power armour and dragged him away, albeit with a lot more grunting and groaning then the first pair. Strangely, despite it all, neither of the men woke. They barely looked like they noticed, none of them did.
Then it hit Charity. They had all been drugged.
"Isn't this one of ours?" someone called, snapping her out of her thoughts. She looked up to see one of the soldiers standing over her, looking back at the woman.
"Ah, yes" she sighed, striding over and kneeling down in front of Charity, "unfortunately you're being left behind..."
Charity turned her eyes to the soldier, waiting patiently for the back-handed slap to the insolent woman that stood before her, showing such little respect to a member of the Enclave...but it never came. The soldier simply shrugged and joined his fellows in checking the others. Charity frowned at his back, which made the woman cock her head to the side, a curious look in her eyes.
"Wondering why he didn't help you?" she asked. Charity's eyes flicked back to look at her, seeing now that she was smiling slightly. "Yeah...see, they don't like you, back at the Stand. Not anymore. You're the past and, well...I'm the future," she added with a smug smile.
"Ma'am?" a soldier said behind her.
"Hmm?" she turned to face him, then nodded as he motioned away from the camp site, "Oh, yes. Well, it's time for me to go," she said sadly, turning back to Charity, "but I hope you'll be alright, I really do...ok, I don't, but I know you will be. You've caught the eye of little Sammy over there," she said, turning to look at the leader of her captors, still asleep by the fire, the light illuminating his rugged features. She sighed. "He is some kind of cute, isn't he..."
She turned back to Charity, the smile back on her face. "But I'm sure an up-tight bitch like you doesn't even know what I'm talking about. A shame...you could use a good romp. But listen to me talk!" she exclaimed, "I really have to go. Bye-bye then."
She got up, waved childishly and followed the soldiers out of the camp site, leaving her former companions still asleep by the fire. The ones she didn't take, anyway.
Charity huffed angrily. She had known the rest of the Enclave had a...less than positive view regarding the Irregulars, but to leave one of their own behind? On the orders of nothing more than a common bounty hunter? It would have baffled a lesser person, but not Charity.
She prided herself on knowing the world but, more, adapting to it. She saw the truth now, the hidden one that she had always felt but never accepted. There was no Enclave, no unity, no great hope for the future. Everything she had been told, had been conditioned to believe, was a lie. The only thing separating the Enclave from her captors and other wastelanders was their level of technology. They were no different, no less self-centred and petty.
She ground her teeth as her eyes looked over her captors again, focusing on the leader. She noticed how interesting he looked but, this time, she didn't ignore it.
She had known that she owed him for saving her before. But she had decided that meant not killing him when she escaped. Now? Now she had bigger things in mind. A better way to pay him back, and several others, she knew.
But more than that, she felt a curious feeling when she thought about leaving them, him. She felt...longing, something she hadn't felt in far too long, a feeling that left her confused.
She knew she needed him to repay her debt, and to get revenge on the Enclave, but the more she thought about it, the more those reasons didn't seem to matter. She just needed him...
A voice snapped her out of her thoughts.
"We're not going to last much longer," she heard Eagle shout over his shoulder.
Sam got up and stood behind him, leaning over the back of his chair to look out the cockpit's windows.
"Put us down...there," he said, pointing with his finger to a spot Charity couldn't see. She did see Eagle nod his head though, the vertibird dipping slightly as Sam moved back into the cabin to re-join the others.
"Are we there yet?" Isaac asked with a smirk.
"Almost," Sam answered dismissively, not looking at the tanned man. She saw him look across at the back corner, where Farilla was still curled up, alone, sobbing silently. She had been the same ever since they left the Stand. Charity didn't understand why the woman was crying. If the blonde had had her way Farilla would have joined the corpse they threw back into the hangar.
Charity looked back at Sam, his face a mix of grim determination and concentration. He nodded and shook his head a few times as if going through ideas in his head, then slumped back into a chair, still glancing occasionally at Farilla, his face deepening into a frown as his concentration increased.
The vertibird touched down lightly in a small clearing, its landing gear creaking as it took the weight of the metal vehicle. The door to the cabin opened with a slight hiss and Sam was the first out, sweeping the area with his rifle. After a moment he motioned back inside and the others began making their way out, Oz still visibly in pain and needing help getting down.
The clearing wasn't much; a sparse patch of flat land with a few withered trees dotted around. The perfect area to land a vertibird, though it left them more exposed than Sam would have liked. Still, you can't always have everything.
Eventually everyone was out, standing in a rough semi-circle around the vertibird. Sam strode towards them, nodding for Isaac to watch the area, and took the Enclave woman by the arm, pulling his pack out of the cabin as they passed the door.
When they were a good distance away he stopped, let his bag drop to the floor and reached into his duster. She visibly flinched and he frowned at her as he produced a small pouch that jingled in his fingers. He then reached into his pack and pulled out a pistol, causing her to flinch again.
But he didn't use it on her, instead rolling it around until the handle was facing her. She took it hesitantly, her face covered in confusion.
"There's caps and a weapon," he said, "now go"
"But...I can't..." she blubbered.
"Listen!" he hissed, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her a little further away from the others. "The blonde wants you dead, the tanned one will kill you for the fun of it and the man in pain will probably be looking for revenge when he's back to normal. I'm giving you the chance to live, can't you see that?"
She stared at the pistol dumbly. "But I've never...I'll die," she finished weakly, eyes floating over to take in the surroundings, the wastes, the world she had never seen.
Sam sighed. "Probably," he muttered, "but at least you've got a chance, out there," he said, waving his hand to take in the landscape. "You're dead if you stay here..."
She gulped, sniffled, seemed to be fighting back tears. Sam didn't know her, didn't know what she might have done to make Charity hate her. And even though he hated the Enclave after his short time in the Stand, he couldn't bring himself to hate this woman. She was so pitiful he wished he could do more. Wished, but knew he couldn't.
He turned and walked back over to the group.
"What are you doing?" Charity asked coldly, her eyes fixed on the back of the woman still walking away.
"The right thing," he answered.
He saw her hand stray towards the plasma pistol at her hip and cursed himself for forgetting to take it off her. He put a hand gently on hers as it reached the grip. She looked down at it, as if surprised to be touched, then up at his face with her usual flatness and a hint of suspicion.
"Let it go," he whispered, keeping his eyes locked to hers. She glared at him and huffed angrily, but she still turned and strode back towards the others. He breathed out contently. At least he managed to do one good thing today. Now, what to do about the pilot...
He turned and strode back to the others. The pilot, Eagle, was standing in the middle, shrinking somewhat between the others. He wasn't much, slightly framed without much bulk to him. His face had a certain boyish look to it, like he was too young to be doing this kind of thing. Still, he had proven himself a hell of a pilot.
"You," Sam said, nodding towards him. The man's eyes flicked nervously towards him. "You're free to do what you like. Stay, go, your choice"
His eyes flicked side to side, taking in his current companions. Oz was still visibly in pain, held up loosely by Charity, who had her usual disinterested face on. Isaac was a little further off, rifle in hand, but Sam saw him turn and give the pilot a wink and a wicked grin. Original was muttering to himself, both hands in front of his mouth. Finally, his eyes rested on Sam, who did his best not to show any kind of emotion.
"I'll...stay," Eagle finally said, glancing only slightly at the figure of the Enclave woman, still walking away and barely visible now.
Sam clapped him on the shoulder, causing the smaller man to visibly shrink again. "Good man," Sam said, somewhat happily. "Now...let's get moving. We still have a Vault to get to."
"So...Eagle..." Sam started casually as the small group headed north west, having crossed the border into Idaho roughly an hour ago. "You think that vertibird will fly again?"
"Uh...I guess," the smaller man stammered. "I mean, it needs fuel...and the shockwave blew out the ignition lines...not to mention the heat sink and distributor..."
"But if we got all that?"
"Y-yeah, I suppose it would..."
"Good," Sam said with a nod, raising his Pip-Boy to his chest and tapping a few buttons on it. Eagle stood a little higher, trying to see what he was doing. Sam caught him doing it. "Marking its location," he explained, showing the pilot the map. "I'll come back for it later"
Eagle smiled nervously and nodded, deciding to go back to being silent, hoping it was enough to end the conversation. In this group of killers and thieves, as he thought of them, blending into the background seemed to be the smartest thing to do.
Sam left him be and quickened his pace a little. Oz was walking next to Charity, the pain having gone enough for him to walk on his own, but the blonde woman still hovered nearby, watching him in case he showed signs of collapsing. To his credit, the man seemed to use it as motivation, forcing himself onwards when it was clearly visible that he was suffering from another wave of pain. Whether it was pride or the fear Charity seemed to inspire that drove him, however, Sam didn't know.
Isaac was at the front, as usual, the snarling wolf stitched into the back of his leather vest seeming to look directly at you whenever you glanced at it, the leather creaking every time he moved, sounding like small growls.
Original was keeping pace, barely, though he was still plainly crazy, still muttering to himself, so softly that you could hear that he was talking but not the actual words he was saying, no matter how hard you tried.
And there was Charity. She and Sam hadn't spoken since he had let the Enclave woman go, but he had caught her glancing at him occasionally. He thought she had caught him staring at her a couple of times too. It was strange, he just couldn't keep his eyes off her...
Isaac's hand went up, motioning for them to stop, and everyone did immediately, crouching down. All except Original. Sam had to lean across and pull the man down by his arm. He went down with a awkward squawk, which got an angry glance from Isaac.
"P-people," Original said. Sam turned to him, both confused and curious.
"What did you say?"
Original looked up at him, just like he had on the vertibird, and Sam felt the familiar tingle go up his spine.
"P-people...bad," he muttered.
Sam's eyes narrowed as he studied the man. "People...?"
"Don't move!" someone screamed. Another voice repeated the same thing, although this time it sounded almost robotic.
"Shit," Sam heard Isaac hiss, and everyone ducked behind any available cover. Rocks, dips in the ground, Sam even saw Eagle crouched behind a desert shrub.
"Put down your weapons!" the first voice repeated. "We have you completely surrounded!"
Sam looked around, saw Isaac was staring at him. The tracker was motioning with his hand, trying to indicate a plan of attack. Sam was nodding as he got the gist of it, when Charity suddenly stood up.
"What are you doing?" he hissed. She waved her hand at him dismissively.
Sam's eyes flicked towards the surrounding area, waiting for the bullets to come.
But they didn't.
Instead, something rustled some plants behind a boulder roughly 15 metres from the trail. Sam, before he even knew what he was doing, found himself on his feet and standing in between it and Charity. 'It' turned out to be a man, who stood up from behind the boulder. He was dressed in black combat armour with a leather duster over the top of it, his face rugged and old, a face that Sam could tell had seen plenty of fighting. His jet black hair was tied in a pony tail and he held a plasma rifle in both hands, although it was lowered.
"Charity," the man said, his voice hard, a little emotion creeping in that even Sam, hearing him for the first time, thought was unusual. "I...we thought you were dead"
"I'm not," she answered flatly, as if it wasn't obvious.
"I can see that...who's he?" he asked, nodding towards Sam.
"Sammael Grant," Sam answered.
The man narrowed his eyes, looking annoyed that Sam had decided to speak. After a moment of glaring he turned back to Charity, looking at the way they were standing, at how she had moved slightly closer to Sam. "You're...with him?"
Sam turned to look at Charity and found himself staring into her piercing blue eyes. They looked into his, those eyes, seemingly seeing right through him, into his brain, into his soul. Looking through him like that was what they were made to do.
"I am," he heard her finally say, not taking her eyes from him. He noticed a softness creep into those blue eyes, the skin around them creasing slightly.
The man with the pony tail sighed explosively and, when Sam finally tore his eyes from Charity's, he saw the man rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"We should have a talk then," the man finally said, resignation in his voice.
Sam sat opposite the pony tail man, Charity by his side, the rest of his group scattered around behind him. The other group, all dressed in the same stripped down power armour as Charity had been, were roughly the same, loosely grouped around their leader with weapons drawn but lowered. All and all it was an awkward situation.
"The smoke we've seen on the horizon, is that-" the pony tail man started.
"The Stand," Charity interrupted. He nodded knowingly.
"So it's gone?"
"Yes," she answered, flatly as usual.
He looked at her with slight curiosity. "You sound like you don't care"
"I don't."
He nodded again, although this time there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. He turned to Sam. "And you...you're the Courier?"
"Yeah"
"I was sent to hunt you," he said casually, "and him," he added, nodding towards Oz.
"Well, here we are," Sam answered, spreading out his arms.
"There's no point now, is there?" the man asked, somewhat sourly.
"I guess not"
The man sighed again. "Where are you headed?"
"To a Vault. Why?"
"...because we need somewhere to go," the man answered. "And since you've already got one of us with you," he said, looking at Charity, "...where else would the rest of us be?"
Sam narrowed his eyes. "How do I know you're not going to betray us?"
"You don't," the man answered, "but she does"
Sam glanced at Charity who gave him a subtle nod, a subtle 'ok' signal, one his mind told him not to trust but his heart believed without a doubt.
"Fine," he sighed after a moment. "Sam," he added, offering his hand.
The pony tail man took it with a firm grip. "Erik Abercrombie, Captain," he answered. "And these," he waved his hand at the men behind him, "are the 2nd Irregulars. Now...you said something about a Vault?"