"What do you mean no?" Sam asked angrily.

Abercrombie rounded on him. "We've found the Vault. The simple fact is that we don't need him anymore, so I'm not risking my men on the slight chance that we could get him back."

"Slight chance...what happened to we have to work together?" Sam asked.

"We are free men Courier, free to go and do what we please. We don't have to do anything," Abercrombie answered.

Sam scowled at him. "To hell with you...all of you," he shouted at the rest of the former Enclave soldiers, before turning on his heel and striding away.

Charity, who had stood stoically beside him the entire time, remained, her eyes fixed on Abercrombie. The older man looked over at her.

"Go with him, if that's what you want," he said coldly. "You're not one of us anymore."

"I don't want to be," she answered flatly, turning to follow Sam.

When she was gone Abercrombie sighed.

"Is everything all right?" Leon asked, appearing behind him.

"No...tell everyone we're moving out. The Vault awaits. And maybe we can make something of this damned mission," he added sourly.

"How'd it go?" Isaac asked as Sam joined him. They were standing in a small clearing in amongst the forest, the place eerily calm when compared to their recent battle. Sam was scowling and gave Isaac a glance. "Ah," Isaac said knowingly.

He was leaning heavily on his improvised walking staff, his head turned towards Original as the man sat, cross legged, and ran his fingers over the small flowers that sprouted from the ground. The clearing had a certain sense of beauty to it; the trees that surrounded it were still daunting, but direct sunlight shined down on them for the first time since they had entered this mutated jungle. It reflected the vibrant colours of the flowers, giving the entire area a much happier feel than the jungle around them did.

Sam should have been marvelling at it. He had heard rumours of gardens as beautiful as this before; on the properties of the rich back in the NCR, in Pre-War facilities in Colorado, but he had never seen one in person. It was enough to give a person hope that, perhaps, the world wasn't as bleak as it looked, that there was potential for growth even in the wastes.

But he couldn't stop staring at his shoes. There was nothing special about them, the leather well worn, cracking around the soles. An absent thought crossed his mind about needing new shoes but it was swiftly swept away by everything else whirring around in his mind.

He thought about Patrick and about Oz's request. He thought about his life, about everything that had brought him to this point. About seeing the horrifying civilisation of the Legion, the bureaucratic over-bearing NCR and, finally, of the tyrannical Mr House, former lord of New Vegas. He remembered the day he had made the choice to strive for something better, not just for himself but for everyone in the Mojave. He remembered the uncertainty he had felt before hand, the same uncertainty that was flowing through his body now.

He knew that he could continue to change the Mojave, hopefully for the better, with what he found in the Vault. He knew that Patrick had died, partly, to help them reach this goal, a goal that was so close he could almost taste it. He knew that going after Oz was a risk that could make Patrick's sacrifice in vain.

But as he thought of everything that had happened he began to remember, also, everyone that had gotten him through it. Boone, the troubled sniper; Cass, the drunken caravan owner; Veronica, the Brotherhood scribe and everyone else. How far would he have gone for any of them? How far had he gone for them?

He had striven to be better than those around him, better than the Legion, House or the NCR. He couldn't turn back on that now.

He looked up and found Isaac was looking at him.

"So...what's the plan?" the tracker asked.

"I'm going after him," Sam said.

"Oh, no, I assumed that," Isaac said. "I asked what's the plan?"

"I don't have one," Sam said flatly.

"Do you ever?" Isaac muttered to himself. Sam glared at him, but turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. Charity strode towards him, face blank as usual.

"They didn't happen to change their minds, did they?" Sam asked her sourly. She shook her head. He cursed under his breath, then looked up at her. "I'm going after Oz. I'll...understand if you'd rather be with your people," he said, glancing over at the soldiers who were already heading away from them.

"They're not my people," she corrected him flatly. "I'm...with you," she added awkwardly. She raised her hand, meaning to do...something with it, but hesitated half way towards Sam, before jamming it back down beside her with an angry huff. Sam saw Isaac shaking his head, a smirk on his face.

"And you?" he asked the tracker. "You don't have to come either, you know."

"Better you than them," Isaac shrugged, nodding towards the direction Abercrombie and the others had disappeared to. Sam nodded. "But what are we going to do with him?"

Sam's eyes followed Isaac's until they both came to rest on Original, still sitting in the small clearing. He was still running his hands over the flowers with a huge smile on his face. He looked serene, like he was in a wonderful dream.

But, most importantly, he wasn't mumbling to himself. He wasn't rocking back and forth or shaking feverishly. He wasn't crazy anymore. For the first time since Sam had met him the man looked legitimately happy. He thought, briefly, of just leaving him here. He was happy. And, now that Sam took a look around at the beautiful clearing, he understood the appeal. Maybe it would be better for Original to stay.

But so far they had seen moving plants, heard the roar of a ferocious sounding creature and been attacked by tribals. Leaving Original here might be best for his mental health but Sam didn't doubt that it would come at the cost of his physical health. A tough choice; live crazy or die sane?

"He's coming with us," Sam finally said.

Isaac groaned. "Can't we just leave him here?"

"No," Sam said sternly. "I...we've lost enough people already"

Isaac rolled his eyes but said nothing else. Charity moved over to Original, whispered something in the man's ear and then helped him to his feet. He still had that smile on his face, like he was dreaming, like he was on a Jet high. He seemed willing to go, however, and that was good enough for Sam.

"How are we going to find him?" Charity asked as she returned to them with Original. Sam turned to Isaac.

"Can you track the tribals?"

"In this forest?" Isaac countered. He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Probably."

Sam sighed. "It'll have to do. Let's go."

"So you're their god?" Oz asked, staring out the large window at the tribals.

The window looked down on a large hall that opened to the outside world on the opposite end and, judging by the rough beds and shelters, served as the tribals' home. The metallic walls, once likely shined to a high polish, were now dirty and grimy; blood from dead animals staining one, the roof thick with soot from the smoke drifting up from the fires below. Women and children stayed close to the fires and the rough tents and huts, mostly made from wood and animal hides, that served them as their homes. The women were speaking and laughing in their own peculiar language, some breast feeding babies, while the older children playing around them. The men had left a few hours ago and Oz guessed they would be back soon, as he could see the sun setting through the opening.

"I prefer deity but, yes, god would be an apt description," Sera answered.

Her hologram was beside him, leaning against the railing as if she were real, looking down on the tribals with a look of open affection. Ever since they had left the original room Oz had woken up in, what he guessed was an old, unused storage room, she had had no problems projecting her image, growing from the smaller stature to a full 6 feet tall. She even looked solid, although Oz thought that had to be impossible. Still, he didn't dare touch her to find out; he was still trying to wrap his head around everything else without adding a solid ghost to the mix.

"So...you think you're a god?"

"Deity," she corrected, then sighed sadly. "No, I know what I am."

"A solid ghost," he muttered.

She laughed, genuinely. "I have been called that before, among other things."

He turned to look at her. "Then what are you...honestly?"

"Honestly?" She repeated, her hologram straightening up and turning to look at him. "All in good time," she answered with a wry smile.

He huffed angrily. "So now what?"

"Now I have some things I want you to see and some question I want you to answer. Follow me," she said. Her hologram disappeared but, to Oz's left, a large steel door hissed open, the lights popping on to light the hallway that stretched away on the other side. Oz folded his arms and didn't move.

After a few moments he heard an audible sigh from the speakers sitting in the corners of the ceiling in the room. Her hologram appeared in the hallway, a bright smile across her - its - face, her arm out and her hand beckoning him to come through.

He didn't want to go. He didn't want anything to do with her, really. It was bad enough she had thrown his whole plan out by kidnapping him but now, making him jump through hoops for her own as yet unrevealed reasons? That was almost all he could take. Still, he wanted to get out of this situation more so, after a resigned sigh, he let his arms drop and followed her through the door. He looked back over his shoulder, catching a last glimpse of the setting sun before the steel door hissed shut behind him.

The hallway was brightly lit but uninteresting. The steel walls, polished to a high shine, stretched out on each side, only broken by the doors that occasionally branched out. None of these opened as Oz passed, though, and the few he decided to try seemed to be locked as well. The lights overhead, built directly into the ceiling, would flicker occasionally, the only real blemish on what looked like an incredibly well maintained area.

Of Sera there was no sign. She had disappeared as soon as the door hissed shut and had offered him no further instructions or explanations. He guessed that it was because of how straight-forward the whole situation was; follow the hall until she told him to stop. Still, it made it no less infuriating.

Eventually he passed a door that hissed open, the heavy steel sliding up into the roof and stopping with a dull thunk. Oz continued walking a few steps before his brain registered that it had opened and he turned back, slowly, to peer inside.

The room was much like the hall; shining walls, lights built into the ceiling. It was a small room with barely enough room for the table, chair and computer that it contained, sitting across from the doorway, the green light from the computer screen shining out ominously. He stood like that for a while longer, back bent forward, head craned but unwilling to step inside and have the door hiss shut behind him.

"It's safe," she said, her voice coming from the speakers. "If I wanted to harm you I would have done so already, no?"

Maybe, Oz thought. But maybe wasn't yes.

He stepped inside, still reluctant, but resigned to the fact that he didn't have much of a choice. Just as he feared the door hissed shut behind him and, as far as he could tell, there were no controls to re-open it. So he was trapped.

Excellent, he thought sourly.

"The computer, please," she said and lines of code appeared over the computer screen. Oz took a step forward, pulled out the chair and took a seat.

Most of what appeared on the screen was gibberish; a standard start up procedure he had seen on every RobCo computer in the wastes. This continued for a while until, finally, the code fell away to reveal a single word;

HYDRA

Oz stared at it, expecting more to come. Nothing did.

"What is it?" he asked.

"You don't remember?" Sera asked, a slight hint of disappointment in her voice.

"Obviously I don't," replied Oz. "Should I?"

"No," she sighed. "I suppose not. But I had hoped..."

She trailed off as the computer whirred back into action. HYDRA was replaced by a list of names; Arthur Chesterton, Nate Summers, Harry Enfield, so many Oz couldn't read them all. When they were done being listed several began to get blacked out, with messages appearing beside each. Oz didn't recognize most of them but there was one he remembered; coronary failure. A heart attack.

Death, basically.

"What is this?" he whispered.

"This is your legacy Oswald. Your past," she said, her voice strangely soothing, although it sounded a mile away.

Oz watched, unable to look away, as more and more of the names were crossed out. He guessed there must have been hundreds to begin with but now? Now it was down to barely a handful.

Just as Oz thought it had stopped, the computer came to life again and more names were whittled away, this time with different messages, non-medical ones; systems failure, irreparable damage to cryogenics tube, unauthorized de-freezing. The smaller list of names got smaller until, finally, there were only three left; Walter Smith, Nathaniel Johnson and Pierce Grayson.

"My name's not on the list..." he whispered, almost disbelieving. "My name's not on the list!"

"Yes it is...Nate"

The name Nathaniel Johnson flashed briefly and then new information scrawled across the screen, replacing the list of blacked out names. Date of birth, full name, parentage, Oz glanced at it all, not bothering with it. Not when there was a photo of him just below it all.

He was wearing a sweater, one of the sad looking Pre-War ones that were apt to get you killed out in the wastes. Only he wasn't in the wastes in the photo; he was smiling, holding a small glass bottle in one hand, grass behind him, a perfect building filling the background. His free hand was around a woman wearing a light dress. He couldn't tell the colour from the black and white photo but, somehow, he knew it was light blue. Just like her eyes.

And her smile...it froze his heart, a feeling that was at once both completely foreign and strikingly familiar.

"Your wife," he heard Sera say.

"She's...beautiful," Oz managed.

"She is," Sera agreed. "One can almost understand why you did it"

"Did it?" he asked on instinct, still unable to think about anything other than her smile with his conscious mind.

"Volunteered. For the project," Sera answered. "The chance to change humanity," she added with a hint of admiration in her voice.

"What are you talking about?"

"HYDRA...surely you must understand it by now?"

He forced himself, though it was a struggle, to look away from that photo, from her. His mind began working again, processing, deciphering, as it had for as long as he could remember. HYDRA, his abilities, clearly they were connected. That much was obvious, but it was other answers he found he wanted.

"Why did I leave her?" he asked.

"You didn't," Sera answered, still a disembodied voice. Right then, Oz might have believed her to really be a god, a benevolent entity with no form. "She left you."

"Why?"

"Fate, perhaps," Sera mused. "She died, Nate-"

"Don't call me that," he said coldly.

She cleared her throat, irritation practically dripping through the speakers. "She was killed, Oswald, in an accident. You volunteered two months later...the only civilian to do so, actually."

"She's...dead?" he asked before he could stop himself. His eyes moved on their own back to the photo, back to the smile. He knew, somewhere in his mind, that she had always been dead; that even if she was alive before the war she was long dead by now. But still, it felt like he had finally found his purpose, what he had always felt was missing, only to have it torn away from him as quickly as it came.

"Of course she is," Sera answered.

"Why did you show me this?" he asked, his voice filling with emotion. Some of it was rage, some of it was sadness, mostly it was a combination of both that he couldn't understand.

She sighed. "You of all people understand immortality, do you not?"

"Yeah..."

"The crushing loneliness, the maddening isolation, the desire for something more, yes? Well, I have felt all of this for too long and so I decided...I would find my soul mate."

Oz nodded, then froze. "Me?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes, Oswald. We are a perfect match," she said brightly. Enthusiastically. "More perfect than my last attempts, anyway," she added.

"You can't be..." he started.

"Excuse me," she interrupted. "I am needed elsewhere. Don't go anywhere," she added, like he had a choice.

The lights dimmed slightly and Oz took it as a sign she was gone. He let out a sigh and leant back, relaxing in the old chair he was sitting in. It creaked as the back rest took his weight, but he didn't notice. He was wondering what he had done to get himself kidnapped by a crazed AI who planned to make him her...what, exactly? Lover? He shivered at the thought.

He put his hands behind his head and arched his back in a slow stretch, hearing his back crack as he let out a loud yawn. His eyes travelled back to the computer screen, now empty of information. But not, as he had thought, completely empty.

A bar, about the size of a standard letter, flashed mechanically at the top left of the screen. He leant forward to take a closer look at it. His hand dropped to the keyboard, landing heavily on several keys and causing a word of gibberish to appear on the screen. Oz looked around, half expecting Sera to appear or say something, but she didn't. So, slowly, his hand drifted over to the "ENTER" key and pressed it.

Lines of code swept the word of gibberish off the screen and continued for a few moments before an error message appeared; 'Unable to process request - Word not found'.

Oz hummed thoughtfully, then quickly typed in another word and pressed enter. More code appeared to sweep this word away and, shortly, replaced it with information. Information about Sera.

Again he looked around, again expecting Sera to reappear and reprimand him for his actions. But, again, she didn't, so he turned his attention back to the computer.

In large letters at the top of the screen read "Social Environment Reclamation and Advancement".

"S-E-R-A," he said to himself. "Sera."

He continued reading, soaking up everything he saw. She - it, he reminded himself - was built by Arthur Firth in 2071, under the orders of the Collective. Oz had never heard the name and assumed it was just another Pre-War company that went to hell along with the rest of the world.

"I wondered if you would," Sera said. Oz jerked around looking for her, but there was still no hologram, just a disembodied voice. He wondered if she could make her hologram appear in here.

"I would what?"

"Use the computer to learn about me, of course. Though, you could have simply asked."

"All right then...what are you, exactly?" Oz asked.

"I thought we had already discussed this?"

"You're better than a ZAX...that's as far as we got," Oz said dryly.

"I am an Artificial Intelligence" she said.

"I understand that much...what's your purpose?"

"To rebuild the wastes,"

"By playing god to a bunch of tribals?"

She sighed. "Sadly, one must do what one can with the available tools. I was built by a man with a different vision to the ones who would eventually own me and, while they had put me here, my help was set to arrive several weeks after the date of the Great War."

"Help?"

"Robotic companions. Hands and arms to my mind, so to speak. Without them I am...was unable to carry out my function. Until a rather large group of people found this place, searching for shelter, food and, more. Hope. A purpose, just like myself. After that is was a natural relationship and, as the generations went on, they saw me more and more as a god, something larger than life. I didn't have the heart to correct them."

"I still don't see the point of it all. You haven't changed anything, the wastes are as much a waste as they've ever been."

"Not exactly," she said with a smile. "The first step towards rebuilding has already begun, the ecosystem beginning to regrow in a valley not far from here..."

"Wait...you're not talking about the one around Vault 16, are you?"

"Yes, I am. Although, technically, since it housed no personnel that particular facility can't be considered a Vault."

"You created that mutated jungle? Why?"

"Mutated? No. I merely started the terra-former and it has since done its job. I can assure you that what you saw there was a part of the old world, regrown, rebuilt. One step on the road towards glorious America restored in all her beauty..."

"Have you seen it? 'Cause I have, and I've seen pictures of the old world, and it's not it."

"Enough," she said with a sigh. The door behind him opened and two tribals stepped in, well built man, tanned from long days spent in the sun, barely clothed by animal skins. "Take him to the new land," came her voice from the speakers.

Both men nodded. "As you say, so shall it be Mistress," they both said in unison, bowing slightly.

"Wait...what's happening?" Oz asked, standing up from the seat and taking a step back, his eyes wary.

"The 'Vault', as you call it, houses the next step of my plan, Oswald. And since you are now mine, I'm taking you there. You can get acquainted with your new home."

"What if I don't want to go with you?" he asked. "What if I want to leave?"

She giggled, a sound that was young and childish. "You ask like you have a choice," she answered.

An hour later, perhaps less, Oz felt himself being dragged along by his arms. He was dimly aware of trees rising up around him but his eyes were swollen nearly shut, his head throbbing around several lumps that now pushed up the skin on his head. When the tribals had come for him in wherever Sera was, he hadn't gone without a fight. In hindsight he realised he had never stood a chance; stronger and slower, he was never going to beat either of the two tribals that had stood in front of him, let alone both of them. Still, fighting back had given him a sense of freedom, of youthful defiance, a feeling he now relished. He thought he would likely do it again, might spend the rest of his days fighting against his captors but, as he was dragged over some small rocks and his battered body winced with pain, he thought he probably wouldn't. Death he could handle, but pain was too much.

He managed to tilt his head to the side a little, getting a look at the rest of the group he was travelling with. A dozen, maybe more, tribals, although of Sera he could see no sign. Perhaps she was coming later? Or maybe she needed them in the Vault before she could make it her 'new home'?

There was a crack that sounded like thunder and before Oz knew what was happening he hit the ground, hard, jaw slamming shut on his tongue. He groaned and rolled over, opening his mouth and feeling blood run down the back of his throat. More cracks, this time faster and mixed with panicked shouts and yelps from the tribals met his ears and, groggily, he looked around.

Several tribals were down on the ground. Another, midway through throwing a crude spear into trees to the group's left, had his arm disappear from the elbow down. He collapsed back onto his ass and sat there, a dumb expression on his face, before he fell backwards as a new hole appeared in his chest.

There was a grunt to Oz's left and suddenly his whole world swayed. A part of his brain realised he was moving upwards, likely getting to his feet, but it was only a small part. His head lulled to the side, his vision still hazy, yet he saw clearly the unexpected but completely welcoming face that greeted him.

It was Sam.

The man had him by one arm. His head was turned, the grim look on his face that Oz noticed always appeared when fighting was to be done. In his other hand was an automatic rifle, spitting out bullets in random intervals, cutting down any visible tribals.

"Sam?" Oz croaked.

Sam turned to look at him, seemingly surprised to see him conscious, then a wide smile crossed his lips, a strange contrast to his grim face from a moment before.

"Yeah it's me, rescuing you...again," he turned suddenly and Oz heard the rifle bark again. "Let's go. They'll have heard all that."

With that the pair started moving, Sam supporting Oz's smaller body, Oz doing his best to simply stay conscious.

"How'd you find me?" he managed to ask.

Sam chuckled. "Dumb luck."

"Hey," someone said, sounding hurt. Oz turned to see Isaac appear from between the trees, still wearing his vest, although his aviators were off now. He had a large rifle in his hand, a bolt-action hunting rifle with a wooden stock, well worn.

A moment later Charity appeared, her blonde hair tied back by a red bandana. She had a rifle in her hand, similar to Isaac's, and was dragging Original along behind her.

"Hey what?" Sam asked Isaac. "You admitted you were lost a full minute before we heard the tribals"

"Yeah, well...I got us close," Isaac said defensively.

"Enough," Charity grunted, moving through them all with Original being dragged, somewhat unwilling, behind her. "Time to go."

"Agreed" Sam said and the group headed into the forest, towards the large mountain that rose out of the middle of this hellish forest, the one that contained the Vault and represented the end of their journey.

Oz knew he should be happy to be finally heading there again, to be so close, but at that particular point in time he was just glad to be away from Sera.

The Vault sat at the base of the mountain like a monstrous mouth, the vegetation spewing out of it like vomit. The large cog shaped door that was a trademark of the Vault design leant heavily against the wall of the mountain, pushed off its tracks so long ago that vines had grown up and around it, green arms giving it a warm embrace. And sprayed out in front of that, like a lower lip, was a mound of dirt about 3 feet high that curved around in a crescent moon shape.

As the five of them approached, Sam, Oz, Charity, Isaac and Original, several men rose up from behind the dirt, guns in hand and pointed their way. The five froze, Charity letting go of Original to get a better grip on her rifle, Sam flexing his fingers that were wrapped around the assault rifle.

"Hold your fire," a familiar voice said. Another man stood, his hair tied in a pony tail, the breastplate of his combat armour just being seen over the dirt. "I didn't think you would get him."

"Shows what you know," Sam muttered, then louder "I don't leave people behind."

"I can see. Was that your shooting we heard a while ago?"

"Yeah, and we won't be alone for long."

Abercrombie nodded. "I expected as much. You should get in the trench."

"Wouldn't it be better to fall back to the Vault?" Sam asked as the five made their way towards the makeshift trench. It was only a few feet deep but, with the dirt piled in front, it made effective cover. "Easier to defend..."

"We can't," Leon said, stepping forward and giving Sam a nod. The man's pure white eyes were still unnerving. "Too much radiation."

It was then that Sam realised his Pip-Boy had begun clicking, indicating radiation. He helped Oz down into the trench, the man going easily, grateful for the rest, before he brought the device on his arm up to get a better look.

Sure enough it was indicating radiation and a lot of it too. He took a step towards the Vault and it went up another spike. The levels outside wouldn't be lethal, assuming they left sometime today, but it seemed actually going into the Vault was out of the question.

Sam sighed with frustration. So close and yet he might as well be back in Vegas for all the good it did him.

"Now what?" he asked, turning to everyone. Nobody answered.

"You better think of something," Abercrombie said, turning back towards the mutated forest. "And soon."

Sam turned back to the Vault and frowned.

He had no idea what to do.

Not the first time, he reminded himself. Hopefully not the last.