A/N: So it's a bit late- I've been focusing on finishing up One Hour and LB2 over this story since they're much closer to completion- but here's the proof I'm still working on it. This is the climax of the first arc of the story, with one more denoument-and-setup arc coming after to wind it up. Two chapters later (Ch12) will be the first in the second arc of three, and have a significant- 6 months to a year- time skip past Ch 11. Just a warning.
Another warning worth noting, this chapter has graphic mentions of near-rape. The deed never actually happens, but it gets really close. If that bothers you, better to skip all but the first and last couple scenes. It's also a bit violent.
However, I also think they're fairly important to the story, so if it was me, I wouldn't skip them.
Enjoy!

Chap. 10 Bloody Reunion

As he crested the hill, pedalling as fast as his legs would go through the cramps, Duncan debated for a moment whether he should shoot down some of the raiders at a distance. But another scream from Amber, he was sure it was her, prompted him to continue without pause. With one hand, he struggled to free the rifle, brought it up at full extension, and fired just as he flew past the lone guard, who, if Duncan hadn't misheard, was grumbling about missing all the fun with 'Sweet Meat' before she was 'Spoiled Meat'.
The young man wasn't sure whether the bullet connected or not, because as soon as he'd fired, he'd thrown the rifle as the guard and reached for the shotgun, pedalling even harder to counteract the slight slowing effect of the rifle. The raiders hadn't set up a wall, no defense at all except the one guard he'd just passed.

Maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to save Amber before...

Well, before anything bad.

(O)(O)(O)

Amber kicked, she screamed, she punched, bit, even headbutted- twice- the grungiest, grimiest, man of the lot. Unfortunately, all she'd seemed to do was make him even madder.

"Don't think you're doin' yerself any favors there, Sweet Meat," he growled, before backhanding her across the face.

Amber's vision swam with the force of the blow, even sounds were distorted. For just a moment, it had sounded like a raider outside had screamed in pain. As well, she'd thought she'd heard the crack of a firearm. But no, that was probably just her head against the cracked formica of the diner's counter as he hit her again, this time from the other side.

She whimpered and went still. There was pain, so much pain she could hardly feel it. In a way, the young woman, who'd survived (though she hadn't known it at the time) a nuclear holocaust, was glad for it.

The incredible pain in her right lower jaw and left cheek deadened the pain in her heart and mind from what the Raider's probing, grasping fingers were doing to her modest breasts and the now-tattered remnants of her Vault Suit, at least the part between her legs.

"'at's bettah, Sweet Meat," he suddenly cooed as he moved over her, showing rotten, black-and-yellow teeth, covered with old blood stains, in a wicked grin, "make it easiah on yerself and let me show ya a good time."

Dimly, she was aware of the other Raiders, including the large man who'd brought her in, arguing amongst themselves as to who would be next to ravage her.

(O)(O)(O)

Duncan couldn't believe his luck. Not one of the raiders- and there were many- had seemed to notice his rifle discharge, because each one was focused with abandon on the screaming woman just ten feet away, ten feet through a host of unwashed, rancid bodies covered in sweat and who-knows-what-else.

The shotgun was already in hand as he dismounted the bike at a run, leaving it to clatter to the ground noisily. That unusual sound made a few of the Raiders turn. The first two, standing next to each other, received a barrel of buckshot to the face. Neither got up again.

The third, further away, was able to cry out an alarm, but, again most fortunately, Duncan saw through the haze of his adrenalin rush that most of the Raiders throught he was merely excited about having his way with the girl in their midst. Only one more turned in his direction.
The one, the closest, Duncan struck across the face with the barrels of the shotgun, hard enough to shatter his nose and, if he wasn't mistaken, bend the steel tubes out of shape. One weapon ruined, four raiders down Maybe one behind me, but Scratches is back there somewhere.

Just as he dropped the shotgun in favor of his best close-range weapon, the shiny new (or ancient, depending on how you looked at it) baseball bat he'd picked up in Amber's uncle's home.

When the oak-sheathed cedar ripped itself- seemingly under it's own power- from the top carry-strap of his backpack, Duncan actually smiled, despite being outnumbered twelve-to-two (was Scratches even back there?). The weapon, simple as it was by technology's standards, simply fit in his hand like it was made for him.

And besides, he mused while bringing it forward in a tight arc to smash into the temple of the nearest unaware Raider, a woman, who seemed quite as excited as the men at the prospect of raping his friend, it is a rather high-tech bat, isn't it? They don't make them like this any more, I bet.

When the bat impacted the woman's shaven head, there was a loud double-crack, louder even than the report of the shotgun.
Duncan felt a slight shock of impact in his hands, lighter than he'd have expected, but the woman's skull exploded out her left ear, leaving the rest of her body to crumple, twitching, to the ground.
"Wow!" he muttered, pausing for a moment (perhaps unwisely) to admire the sheer damage it had done. This was no ordinary bat, not by any means. "It's a fuckin' power-fist bat!"

It would surely have been illegal in a game, but as a display piece... possibly the strongest, most powerful, baseball bat ever made. It would make breaking the balls incredibly easy.

For his lapse of attention, Duncan received a stab in the belly, which made him double over and grunt. He was undoubtedly wounded, but fortunately, his leather armor seemed to turn away the worst of the blow. The switchblade fell from his armor when, with a roar of anger, a small (only nine inches!) Deathclaw hand severed the raider's from his arm.

"Good to see you, boy," Duncan called, already standing, ignoring the pain in his stomach, to bring the bat upwards, taking out another Raider's chin and face. As the gore, accompanied by the same double-crack, arced up toward the shabby ceiling of the diner, Duncan caught his first glimpse of wavy, almost-clean brown hair, just the color of dark honey.

"Amber!" he cried out, but she either hadn't heard over the sound of combat, or was unconscious, because she didn't react.
A moment later, the hole was filled with a very large, burly man holding a shield made of a stop sign and a makeshift bludgeon which appeared to be crafted from several poorly-tied steel stakes, and a badly-cut section of an I-beam. "Yer not gettin' yer hands on our Sweet Meat, boy!" the man roared, raising the mace high and putting the shield forward.

Growling in a fashion eerily similar to the Raider's, Duncan, praying the reverberating effect of the bat would continue working here, swung at the shield directly.

The Raider, for his part, grinned. How dumb a fool did you have to be to attack the most protected part of an enemy?
Then his arm shattered, the impact of the bat diffused through the shield actually made it worse. No bone piece from wrist to elbow was larger than a half-inch. He cried out in pain, tried to drop the shield, and forgot to bring his mace down to protect his groin.

Duncan's next upward swing would have been unbearably painful, agony to the point of death, had the bat's concussive force not lifted him from the ground to smash head-first into the ceiling fan. A lucky strike, for the sharp remants of it killed him as they entered his brain.

Now surrounded by six Raiders, though he could hear the young Deathclaw fighting furiously a few feet away as the once-humans began to panic, Duncan spun around in a wide circle with the bat out, hoping to get himself some breathing room.

"Come on," he cried, "Not so fun picking on people who can fight back, is it, you bitches? Is it?"

It hadn't been the desired effect, honestly, the Old-Worlder was hoping to kill every last one, but the majority broke and ran at his outburst. Perhaps, as he took a moment to make sure he wasn't being flanked, the fact that almost half of their number had been dropped in about the same fraction of a minute, by only two creatures, had a detrimental effect to their morale.

But one Raider, just one, was still ignoring him.

The hellspawn was grinding one of Amber's nipples between two teeth, hard enough to make her bleed, and the other breast was being mauled hard enough to bruise with one hand. His second hand was now pulling down the zipper of his trousers (which, Duncan was surprised to see, had the faded patch of Paradise Falls embroidered on the side). Her own Vault Suit's lower section had been ripped away to allow access. Apparently, this Raider, probably the leader given his slightly better dress and weaponry, was so intent on having his way with her he hadn't wanted to wait to get her completely naked.

"Amber!" he cried out again. Duncan was leaping forward, bat at the ready for another powerful swing.

(O)(O)(O)

The pain in her head, Amber found, was growing no worse. However, he chest now ached- and was growing worse by the moment- from the things this man, this... this thing was doing to her. Worse, she now knew her nether regions were completely unprotected, because she'd felt him slip a finger inside her, spreading filth all over her, and then heard him cackle when he'd found her a virgin. He hadn't bothered reporting that to his men, though. It would likely have caused problems fighting over who would be the first of the dozen or so to repeatedly rape her if they'd known.

But, mere moments after he'd begun to struggle with his fly, a whistle of something red-tan blurred across Amber's swimming vision, and the Raider's head was suddenly gone in a slow-motion mist of red.

"Aaaaaannzzzzrrrrr?"

What was that?

It wasn't human, that's for sure...

But wait, hadn't Amber herself just been stricken two powerful blows, one over an ear? Maybe her hearing was messed up.

Maybe she had a concussion.

Maybe she wouldn't remember being raped.

That was a good thought, she found, as she slipped into unconsciousness.

(O)(O)(O)

"Amber, this is Scratches. Scratches, Amber. No, Scratches, bad boy! Don't you hurt her!"

The Deathclaw, which had reached out a tentative claw to prod her soft, half-bare belly, halted and pulled back. It cocked it's head at him, then leaned forward to sniff instead.

After several whuffs, it backed away, and Duncan considered it safe to move forward. When Scratches had growled at him- him- for approaching, the young man had feared it wanted to eat her, feared he'd have to do his best to kill the thing before it killed him or the only link he had to his past.

But this... it was almost protective of her, even though they'd never met. "Good boy. Keep her safe, okay? I'm... I'm gonna see what I can do, all right? Why don't you... uh... go eat. Yeah, go. Eat. Okay? Eat."

With a pleased-sounding whuff-bark, the monster- nearly as tall as Amber, now (and how did a normal animal grow so big so fast?), gripped the more-intact arm of the large shield-carrying man and dragged him outside, where he immediately began to rip into the man's chest cavity with his claws and teeth.

Repressing a shudder, Duncan turned instead to Amber, who seemed blissfully unconscious. "That's a good sign... or maybe it's bad. I don't know... what the hell am I supposed to do in a case like this? We didn't cover rescuing rape victims in the Boy Scouts!"

But, as he looked around, Duncan did see a few things that stood out as higher priorities. No woman, he knew, wanted to be naked out in the middle of nowhere. Even if Amber was clothed somewhat, all the 'important bits' were uncovered for all to see.

And no, Duncan would not let himself be distracted by those sights. Not now, not right after she'd... maybe he'd remember them later, but for now, the urge to care for and protect his only friend was far more powerful than even a fourteen-year-old boy's urge to mate with anything that moved and breathed.

"Right, clothing. I don't think she'd want to wear anything these bastards have. Mine is a bit loose... I have that leather armor, though. It's got a few bullet holes, but it'll cover a lot more than she's got now. Might even fit. For the bottom... I guess my blanket will do?"

It was a threadbare thing, but only the wealthiest of Big Town's citizens (not including MacReady and Princess, who elected to get by only with what they needed, much to her displeasure) had 'new' blankets woven from dog or brahmin fur. They were terribly scratchy, if warm, and Duncan couldn't stand them. So he'd made do with a single warn blanket from hundreds of years before on the road. At his cousin's- his- home, there were actual becs, with actual mattresses, and several blankets still in servicable condition. Now, though... "If I fold it up and pin it somehow, maybe with a belt, it should go to her ankles..."

Duncan, now grateful she appeared to be mostly uninjured, flipped a mattress- one of only two- over to the slightly cleaner side and laid the blanket on it, before picking Amber up as gently as possible- she still whimpered and shied away, even unconscious, before covering her with the other half. "Sorry, Amber... I got a bit of work to do. Stay asleep if you can, I'll keep you safe."
A low growl from outside prompted Duncan to add, "And Scratches will, too."

He set to work with the grisly task of taking the useful objects from the Raiders- several weapons, and not much in the way of armor or medical supplies- and dragging their bodies outside to be burned.

It took nearly an hour, even though he'd only taken them perhaps ten feet outside the door, with another stack of weaponry about half that distance from the diner. But now, Amber was starting to stir.

"Amber, don't move," he whispered.
She winced, her emerald-green eyes flew open in terror, and she immediately backed away as far as she could, getting tangled in the blanket even further than her tossing had moments before.

"Amber, it's me! It's Duncan! You're safe, they're all dead!"

It took repeating those words, in no particular order, more than a dozen times before it seemed to start sinking in.
"D- Duncan?"

He nodded, "Yeah. You remember me, right? Duncan Maddox? Taylor's older brother?"

This time, she nodded weakly, "Why wouldn't I remember you? It just... I didn't recognize you. You look... different."

He flopped down into a half-crouch, "Well, I am about... four or five years older than you have the most memories of. Um... I don't want to ask this, but... what's the last thing you remember?"

She frowned, allowed her eyes to drift half-closed, and shuddered. "The baseball bat. At least, I think that's what it was. And red mist."

This time, Duncan followed suit, frowning himself. "So... so you remember everything? What... what was about to happen?"

She nodded, suddering, and began to cry silently. As she huddled further into herself, Duncan did his best to comfort her by talking in a low, quiet voice while he puttered around the diner.

"They're all gone, Amber. Dead or run away. They won't be back, at least not soon. And if they do come back, me and Scratches will take care of them. They aren't going to get you, not ever. You're... you're safe, as safe as I can make you. Okay?"

She didn't respond, of course, but she allowed him to get close enough to tug the blanket out from under her and wrap it around herself loosely. "It's going to get cold tonight, I think, but this will keep you warm. We'll probably need to stay here. I know you don't want to, but I don't want to get caught out there with no protection if the Raiders who ran off find us."

She nodded, but didn't otherwise react.
"And... I've got something you can wear. It's not much, but... it's more than what those pricks left you. I'm... I'm sorry I... I kind of saw... well... stuff."

The hesitancy in Duncan's tone, the blush on his adult-like face, or some combination of both broke through. Amber smiled, then started laughing. At first, Duncan was relieved, until it suddenly turned hysterical.

"You- you saw? Who the hell cares, Duncan? I was almost gang-raped by like, fifteen people, and you think I care that you saw me naked? You saved me from that!"

Then she threw herself at him, kissing him wildly, and if it weren't for the blanket clumsily wrapped around her, Duncan was sure she'd be groping him as well. At least, that's the direction her hands seemed to be moving in.

Fortunately, he had presence of mind- and a bit of training- enough to recognize traumatic shock. "Amber... stop. Stop. This... this isn't the time, and it's not the place."

She froze a moment after he'd finished speaking, and suddenly burst into tears again. "You hate me, don't you? Hate me for what I did... for what those... those bastards were going to do."

Slowly, unsure if he dared make this move, Duncan wrapped both arms around her and pulled her close, doing his best to ignore the sobs and tears staining his own leather shirt. "I don't hate you. I didn't come here and almost get myself killed because I hate you, Amber. Hell... I might even like you, just a little. You aren't the dick that Cody was, any way, and not so annoyingly girly as Taylor and Cheryl."

"You like me?"

He nodded against her hair, "Started noticing how pretty you were right after I woke up. I... I've just been thinking about you a lot. I don't even really know you, but you're the best link to... well.. what came before I've got. If nothing else, you're my friend, right?"

She hesitated, nodded, then separated slightly. With eyes still streaming tears, she gave him a relatively chaste peck with still-swollen lips on the cheek. "Maybe... maybe a little more. I always admired you, even back then. Now... now you're my savior. And pretty handsome, too. I don't know, it just... it doesn't seem real, you know?"

He nodded, "Yeah... lots of crazy shit going on out there. Did you see Scratches?"

"Your new dog?"
Duncan laughed, "No... not quite. You'll see. Just wait 'till morning."

(O)(O)(O)

The screech of terror made Duncan wake with a start. Amber was gone, but the spot next to him was still warm. The blanket was gone as well, which meant she'd taken it for concealment from at least his eyes.
The growls suddenly coming from his 'pet' Deathclaw, though, were worrisome. Duncan bolted upright and to the door, hand already on the bat (which, now that he had a moment to think on it, probably more closely resembled a Super-Sledge's technology than a Power Fist's). When he reached the shattered doorway, he saw Amber crouched behind a tree, and Scratches about ten feet away, whuffling with something that closely resembled laughter.

"Scratches! Bad boy! That was mean! He's- he's totally safe, Amber! Finish whatever you were doing, and come back in. He won't hurt you, I promise! Bad Scratches!"

But when the still red-faced young woman returned to the diner, the Deathclaw was still laughing as it rooted around in the dead Raider's bodies for tasty bits to munch on.

"What were you doing in the area?" Duncan asked, "Anything I can help with?"

Amber shook her head, "No... I was looking for my family's house. The one with the park across the street? But the whole town's been wiped out, there were just a few lucky houses standing."

Duncan smiled, showed her the baseball bat, and said, "Not quite. Your cousins were pretty lucky, I guess."

Amber's eyes widened, "Uncle Danny's bat? How did... did you really steal it?"

Suddenly sheepish, Duncan put it down and turned away, "Well... I thought you'd left it on purpose and wouldn't care. It's yours if you want it. He doesn't need it."

But Amber only chuckled, "No, no, it's yours now. I know you've wanted that thing since you guys broke into his vault when we were kids. Is... Is that the bat? The one you... you saved me with?"

He nodded, "Yep. It's one-of-a-kind. I think it's got either Power Fist or Super-Sledge tech in it, 'cause even a weaker swing was just blowing their heads... oh. Sorry."

She was suddenly pale, even swaying slightly.
He moved over and, with a gentle arm, guided her back onto the mattress they'd spent the night on.
"Take it easy. I'm going to get us something to eat, gather up our supplies, and then we'll be out of here. Any idea where you want to go?"

She shook her head, but as he stood, she grabbed his wrist, jerking him to a halt.
"How long were you going to pretend you haven't been stabbed, Duncan?"

He blinked, looked down, and muttered, "Damn, I'd forgotten. It's not that deep, I totally forgot about it."

Amber's eyes rolled, "That's not the point. Who knows how many strange bacteria are lurking around these days? You have to treat injuries as soon as possible! Do you have any stimpacks? The Raiders took mine."

He nodded, "Yeah, I think I gathered them up. There was a pile of stuff that looked too new for them. Got a few others besides, they were pretty well equipped. The last band of Raiders I met up with had garbage- literally, the best weapon they had was a tire iron."

She listened raptly to the story while she patched him up (She wouldn't let him do it himself, despite his insistance he was fine doing so), then gave a low whistle.

"I can't believe how much more dangerous it is alone... I thought it was bad travelling around with those Knights of Steel or whatever."

"Brotherhood? Yeah, I heard you'd been with them for a while. Why'd you split off?"
She shrugged, "Wanted to see if my cousin's house was there, but they weren't going in the area. Figured I'd be safe... shows what I know. They even gave me a pistol, one of those fancy NG models, but I broke it like, the second day. Not sure how, it just wouldn't fire. I had to run from a giant rat-thing."

Duncan shuddered, "I saw one the other day, Scratches caught it while I was in the house. Ate it down in like, ten bites, and it was almost as big as me."

Thinking her scrunched up nose was distaste for the monster itself, Duncan said, "Hey, be nice. He's saved my life more than once. I don't think he's any smarter than a dog, but he's loyal, and he can follow instructions. Easy ones, at least."

"No, no," she muttered, "It's the name. For something with claws like that, you named him 'Scratches'. Really? Show some imagination! How about... Hellion?"

Duncan frowned.

"No? What about... Phobos? Deimos? Fear and terror?"

Duncan shook his head, "No, everyone that see's him's terrified already. Don't need to make it worse."

"Hmm... Cuddles? No, too girly for you."

This time, Duncan smiled. Amber might have known him better than she'd thought.
"Sniffles? Snuffles... Whiskers... Fang... Hades... Charon... Cereberus?"

The Deathclaw outside poked his head in and barked.

Amber looked over, repeated, "Cerberus?"
It barked again.

Duncan allowed his eyes to roll, just once. That was one battle he knew he'd never win. Ages past, Taylor had had a pet rabbit. Amber had been the one to call it "Snookums", and ever since, no matter how many names others tried, it would only react to that one.

She just had a way, he thought, with getting animals to accept her names.

"What the hell does Cerberus even mean?"

Amber only looked away, grinning, "I'm so not telling you. Not after you let that thing scare the crap out of me this morning."

Duncan snorted, "I thought you were already getting the crap out of you?"

Amber's glare made him immediately repentant of opening his mouth, "And now you're never going to know what it means."

"Oh, come on!"

(O)(O)(O)

"Canterbury Trading Post?"

Duncan nodded, "Yeah. Closest town I know about, and we need to get checked out by actual doctors. And sell all this crap, I don't want to lug two hundred pounds of weapons around the Wasteland any longer than I have to."

Amber looked behind him, to where a crude travois had been rigged up to drag behind the bicycle. "You don't expect to actually ride it with that on there, do you?"
He shook his head, "Course not. Just gonna push it. It's a single-seater, I can't take you anyway."

She nodded. "All right... so what's the smaller pile off to the side?"

As Amber bent to prod at the stack of weaponry, he couldn't help but admire the way the sculpted leather armor he'd 'obtained' from the mercenary, Reggie, fit Amber's figure. They were a very close match, Amber being possibly a size larger, so her chest was pushed out a bit more than the merc's had been by the leather.

And he was all for more impressive cleavage.

No, bad Duncan. She's just been... well... leave those thoughts alone for now.

"That's your gear. All the stimpacks I could find, some trade goods, and weapons."

"You want me to carry a grenade?"

He nodded firmly, "Hell yes. Just one, just in case. If all else fails... you pull the pin and keep it close. You won't have to worry about... about things like like the other day. Just make it a last resort. I'm not giving this stuff to you so you can kill yourself in a fit of depression. It's not your fault. Okay?"

Strangely relieved by his blunt manner, Amber grinned to herself as she started awkwardly gathering up the NG-99 10mm pistol (with a holster in decent condition), twelve rounds for it, the grenade, a combat knife, and a crude but effective-looking spear.

"Why the spear?"
He shrugged, "I'd suck with it. I never learned to throw the things, but you did pretty well in P.E., right?"
She nodded, "Javelin toss wasn't my best event, but I did do plenty of track... I guess I can see it as a backup weapon."
He nodded, "Let's get going, then. Come on, Scratches. You should probably practice on the way, if you can," he finished as an aside to Amber.

It was ten minutes later that he realized the Deathclaw was still standing far behind them now at the diner.

He groaned, and called, "All right, come on Cereberus".

With a happy woof, the Deathclaw barreled toward them in a rapid lope.

A/N2: You like? Let me know!

So much for Duncan having a harder time. I decided it was more fun with him catching them by surprise. And the bat being a Super-Bat? Yeah, that was spur-of-the-moment, but I think it works. It's going to be his first 'named' weapon, but it won't be finished until the end of the next chapter- he's making it himself using his high 'repair' (with some input from Amber).

Questions? Comments? Concerns? Hate me for writing this story and ruining Fallout forever for you? Let me know! Reviewing is good for your soul. +Karma -Karma! And EVERYONE loves good karma! (Don't they?)