He couldn't stop it!

Panic assaulted his mind as John lay quivering in the corner.

The house was relatively unscathed, at least compared to the rest of the ruins. The windows were boarded shut and the lonely room deserted save a broken wooden table and a curved counter on which a dozen empty cans stood. He lay huddled against the inner side of the counter, the moment he had realised he was safe John had collapsed into a foetal position by it, unable to move.

And unable to stop the shaking!

He felt weak...he hadn't managed to eat anything in the hours following the battle...and he had thrown up so many times that nothing but water came out of him in the end. The pain of his bruises and cuts were nothing compared to the throbbing pain in his head, or the guilt tearing at his heart, making him gasp for breath.

There were no tears left, nothing but dry whimpering escaped him as his muscles moved out of his control, twitching again and again. His arms, wrapped around his legs, hurt from the constant strain. His stomach was just a big ache from the constant tensing...and it felt as if he was about to dislocate his shoulders as he pulled at his legs for all he was worth.

It wasn't enough though. He had killed! Again! The realisation had only truly hit him after he had executed the last raider...executed...as if he had been nothing but a mad dog. If his arms hadn't felt as if they've been filled with led he would have shot himself right there and then. He was no better then those creatures! For all his education, for all the civilisation coming with his upbringing in the vault...he was no better then the radroaches when it came down to it!

He had found some sort of...inhaler...near the dumpster the raiders had stood by, even he recognised drugs... The rush had been welcome, all pain fading, he had even managed to smile, to laugh even. He had skipped away, so happy, so cheerful...

Then it had faded away, the guilt had returned, all the stronger after what he had done. He had laughed! After what he did...he had laughed! How could one be so despicable? How could anyone go on like that after such a deed!? God help him...he had stolen the drugs! He had taken something from a dead man! He was nothing but a grave robber! He had killed three people! Then he had taken something belonging to them! Looting them...to dull his own guilt!

Who was the animal now?

The pistol lay two feet away, beckoning him to pick it up, to end it all.

It might as well have been miles away.

His whimper was pitiful, even he knew it, it sounded like that of a dying dog. Worse, it sounded like Christine Kendall when Butch had punched her in the stomach. Like the wimpiest of girls...if Amata could see him now she would spit at him in disgust. No...she would comfort him, try to convince him he was okay, that everyone was human, that he really hadn't done anything wrong, just something human...

Sniffing John managed to blink, blurry vision focusing on the broken and dirty tiles of the floor. Amata...why hadn't she come with him? Without her he was weak, without purpose. Father had teased him, saying he simply had a crush on the 'beautiful young lady'. That hadn't been it though...Amata might have had a crush on him...but John had merely needed her, without her he was nothing, he identified himself through her.

Who was he now? Without her to be kind to him? To joke with him and argue with him about ethics? There was nothing to define yourself with out here...only a wasteland, only the cloud of death surrounding you. What would Amata say about that? Could she even imagine such a thing? He hadn't a mere two days ago...

Forcing his arms to stop clenching his legs John stretched out...flares of pain greeting his movement as muscles on the verge of breaking relaxed. A soft moan escaped him, joints crackled, his lungs burnt as a long awaited breath of fresh air reached them...it felt good.

Immediately the guilt returned. So that was it? Some crying and a little pain followed a breath of air and everything was okay!? He felt sick with himself...

Yet he couldn't bring himself to cry anymore, not even to whimper. His body rejected it, didn't want it anymore...a fog seemed to have fallen upon his mind, clouding his memory of it. He still knew of it, intellectually he knew what he had done and how horrible he was, but something...stopped him from mentally grasping unto it anymore.

Blinking he reached out, the cold hand barely felt the grip of the N99 when he grasped it. He pushed himself up in a sitting position, numbly noticing the dust sticking to his side. It didn't seem the least bothered by his deed, it was just...dust. The world was going on as if nothing had happened, insensitive fucking place...

"Hello? Anyone in here?"

Fear caught John's heart, freezing still he strained to listen...to find the source of the danger. Hadn't he been through enough? He didn't want to die...he didn't want to kill! Go away! Leave! Don't force his hand...just walk away. God...why!?

The door creaked open.

"I got no interest in a..." Flying to his feet John swung his gun around, bracing his grip with his left hand as his right put his new foe's head in the cross-hair. "...holy shit!" The new arrival drew a worn looking SMG, aiming the bulky looking thing at John with eyes wide with a mixture of shock and....annoyance?

The man wore a dark pair of pants and jacket, all made of some sort of fur. A dirty cap that had once probably been green was pulled over dark brown hair, shadowing an even darker face. A white little beard covered a small mouth while wide green eyes stared at him from behind a pair of round glasses mostly held together by white tape.

John hesitated, his finger halfway in pressing down the trigger, it wasn't right...there was something different about this one, something familiar. "So kid...we're fighting or talking?" The voice was familiar too, one filled with experience and just a hint of compassion. Compassion...

"You...you're that trader." John lowered his pistol, relief coursing through him, revitalizing him.

"That's right, and you're that valt kid. Hmpf...alive no less." Was that surprise in his voice? At least the trader lowered his gun, after another look at John he even holstered it, believing the valt dweller to be no threat. John wasn't sure if he felt insulted by not looking like a threat to the older man, or happy that his immoral killings hadn't left any visible mark on him. "Can I sit?"

"S...sure." John watched as the trader casually sat down on the old counter, the thing creaking dangerously under his weight while he dumped his heavy backpack down next to him. "So...sorry about the whole gun thing." John tried a smile. "I wasn't really...thinking straight."

"No worries, have looked down scarier guns than that before. Though it's never a pleasant experience." The trader shrugged, an odd glint in his eyes as he watched John rest his back against the wall. He didn't like that look...John crossed his arms in front of him while looking away. "Is something the matter?"

"I...I killed." John felt his lips shake, despite what he had thought it still seemed his body was ready to cry again... "Three people who attacked me...they're dead." He lowered his head, it felt good to ease his conscience, heck, it would be good to get the punishment under way.

"Good for you." Wait...what? "Those raider assholes needs to be culled at every opportunity. Damn pests if you ask me, high on jet and psycho all the time." John looked over at the trader in shock as the man shook his head. "I tell you kid, don't let the wasteland get to you as it does to them...it's a pathetic way to live your life."

"I...I won't." John briefly remembered the inhaler he had used and shuddered, like them...ugh. "So you're saying I did good then?" It seemed too good to be true, some sort of crazed dream, had all morals gone away with the war?

"Sure thing. Those potheads do nothing but terrorize us others who're trying to work for a living. Criminals the whole bunch of them." Criminals...wrong doers.... "I tell you, if there ever arrives a group with the power and will to wipe them all out I would praise them higher than god himself." The trader slapped his leg with a grin, his white smile shining through the dirt of his face.

"I guess." John felt the trader's eyes on him as he straightened a little, suddenly feeling better, they were evil...yeah it did feel a little better. "Man, I should have taken their weapons too, maybe other raiders found them..." The guilt returned, this time it was far easier to handle though, a pinprick in comparison to the previous assault.

"You mean to say that you didn't?" There was scorn in the voice. The trader looked rather amused though. "Man you are new aren't you? Haha!" He tilted his head at John. "Still, kudos to you, you're the first vaultie I've met who've survived a raider attack."

"Huh? There's more vault dwellers out here?" John felt his interest pique.

"Nah, not around here, this was back when I lived far to the west. Besides...I told you...these guys died, couldn't manage more then a few days outside apparently. So I guess you're made of sterner stuff then eh?" The trader fished out a bottle of Nuka-Cola out of his pack, reminding John of his own thirst. At least he had a little food...but the thirst... Seeing John's desperate look the trader offered the mostly empty bottle, a weak smile on his lips. "This is for getting rid of some pricks. Remember though...in the wasteland nothing is free, but there are still some decent people around."

"I'll drink to that." John raised the bottle to his lips, the liquid was lukewarm, yet it was the sweetest drink he'd ever had. All too soon the bottle was empty though. Remembering the traders words John declined to ask for another bottle though, he wasn't going to loose the respect of his 'friend' because of a little thirst. "So, a trader then? How is that working out?"

"It's a hard living, but a good one. I've been all around, in this area I've been to Megaton, Rivet City...you name it." John blinked, apparently it was something to be proud about. Though considering the dangers the wasteland seemed to bring...the pride didn't seem entirely unfounded. "Right now I'm heading for big town, they still got some reasonable trade, despite their recent troubles."

"Sounds great. Wouldn't mind if I join you for a while? I'm heading for GNR over in DC."

"DC?" The trader frowned at him, puzzled. "Son, DC is to the east...we're a day west of Megaton." John felt sudden coldness wash over him. "Don't you have a map or something else to tell directions by?"

"Yes...but I...I lost track of where I was going..." John blinked, he had gone in the wrong directions...people had died because he had read the map wrong, because he didn't understand the true magnitude of the distance involved! Because he was an idiot! And now he was out here...in the middle of nowhere, without water and further away from his goal than when he started!

"Hmpf, figures, compared to the fates of the other vaulties I guess I shouldn't be surprised." The trader shrugged. "Besides, you wouldn't last ten seconds down in DC boy, I avoid that place like the plague and I've been around. Super mutants own that place."

Not wanting to know what a super mutant was, though the name sounded extremely stupid, John shook his head. "But...but I have to go there." He snorted, bitterness welling up inside him. "Not that I understand how...barely surviving what you call a pest, no water left, barely any food...and I can't tell the difference between east and west."

Silence descended upon them.

Fuming John felt biter and angry with himself. He was such a fool! He was pathetic really...no doubt the trader was contemplating leaving right away in fear of John's incompetence killing them both...which he rightly should. If Amata was here she would make everything right, she would...she wasn't here though, he was. So...he was dead...it was merely a question of time.

For some reason the thought was sort of comforting.

"Listen..." The trader brought him out of his reverie, the man had an odd look on his face. One of compassion...yet there was calculations being made behind those large eyes. "I lost my guard to a Yao Guai a few hours ago, you got a gun and you've...somewhat competent...tag along for tomorrow and I'll supply you with food and water, I'll even throw in fifty caps at the end."

"You said there was nothing free out here..."

"I also said there were good people out here. Besides, you're cheap protection compared to that other merc, so I stand to gain." Ah, calculations...the trader seemed to notice the light in John's eyes. "Exactly, don't worry though, it's a fair deal considering your inexperience and who knows...might be a good investment in the long run eh?"

"Sounds good." John smiled as he pushed his hand forward. "In fact, I think I'll drink to that."

The trader laughed as he dug into his pack for another Nuka-Cola. "Catching on quick are we?"