As the sun withdrew her rosy red fingers from the hills of the wasteland, the blanket of twilight stretched across the opposing plain of sky. Perry always adored this event of the day. That moment in time where it wasn't day but nor was it truly night. The light of the sun still reaching over the horizon as the star moved her focus to another place on Earth. Soon her fire will be completely gone, the only indication she was still alive was the poor reflection of her glory on the face of the moon. James had once told Perry about how the moon was a simple imitation of the sun, and a poor one at that. He had asked his father if he would ever get to see these artworks of nature to which his father simply replied, "We are born in the vault. We die in the vault."

Perry was gazing out of window of his bedroom, his hands together behind him, and his back straight. He was finally out of his armour and his ballistic gel suit. He revelled in the sensation of his limbs being granted freedom. He was in his armour so often these days that when people in Megaton saw him in his casual clothes they looked taken aback. His armour had become a part of his image; a part of him. It'd be like seeing a feral wearing a clown suit; it's not what you're expecting.

The event with Peta and Mike was occupying his thoughts as he stared out the window. His mind was racing quickly, going from one topic to the next.

Should have killed him… What were you expecting to do if she lived?... Shouldn't have left her alone…

But there was one resounding thought that stood out amongst all the others.

Why the hell do you care?

He had killed thousands of raiders, tortured people and watched those close to him perish, so why the hell isn't he used to this yet? He was supposed to be numb to this by now damnit! As he pondered his feelings he heard a knock from downstairs. Wadsworth drifted from the kitchen and opened the front door.

"Hey Waddy! How are the new thrusters I gave you? They're not overheating too quickly are they?"

Perry sighed; he wasn't in the mood for this.

"Good evening Miss Brown, yes they are working to the extremely high standards of functionality I have come to expect from your skills, thankyou very much." Perry chuckled from overhearing this, he knew that the standards Wadsworth had come to expect from Moira was somewhere between average and disastrous. Perry had to patch Wadsworth's thrusters himself since he was at risk of blasting through the two new floors the citizens of Megaton had worked so hard to add to his house.

"Awww aren't you sweet," Perry could hear Moira kissing one of Wadsworth's visual optics in thankyou. "I heard our Perry is back in town, could I just have a quick talk with him?"

"Certainly Miss Brown," Wadsworth floated back up the stairs and entered Perry's new and much larger bedroom. "Miss Brown would like to talk with you, master."

"So I heard, thankyou."

"If you don't mind I need to clean out my moisture collectors before they fill up with whatever bile Miss Brown had the pleasure of touching me with, excuse me." Perry chuckled again as Wadsworth exited his room. Taking a deep breath he followed after him and down the stairs to the waiting Moira.

"Heya Perry!" Moira leapt forward and gave the surprised Perry a hug. Despite how he felt mere moments ago, he suddenly felt a bit better. He half-heartedly returned the hug as her bright red hair was in his mouth. It smelt of oil, dirt and God knows what else but it did feel a bit better to actually feel close to someone who wasn't trying to kill him. Moira leant back but still had her hands on Perry's shoulders.

"And where have you been lone wonderer?" she said with a smirk.

"Just had to visit an old friend. Keeping promises, you know how it is."

"Oh indeed, keeping promises is extremely important," Moira let go of Perry and walked towards the old couch he had. "I remember this one time an old trader by the name of Brock came into my shop looking to trade," she sat down as she continued to babble about this trader who she made a promise to in exchange for valuable technology. He sat down on the opposite side of the couch and partially listened to her story. Something about robot prostitutes, a city called New Vegas and a still working truck which she had promised to get him. When Moira really got into the talking mood it was sometimes difficult to keep up with her. He tried his best to listen when she talked about this other city, Perry knew there were other surviving cities but knew nothing about them. From what he could grasp this city sounded like it was a bigger cesspool than Washington D.C., still it sounded interesting. Maybe he should travel there some day…

He looked at the small Vaultboy clock he had and saw she had been talking for an hour. He was getting impatient; he just wanted to be left alone for a while.

"Moira, Moira, please just stop," She looked a bit taken back by the sudden interruption. "Listen, I just… I just need to be alone for a little while. I need to… figure something out."

"Is it about that raider today?" It was true, but Perry didn't want to admit it.

"No… yes… I don't know." He shook his head. Moira silently examined Perry as he looked down at the floor. She extended a hand and cupped Perry's cheek.

"Listen you, if you're feeling guilty because you think an innocent person's death is your fault you shouldn't turn away from that; embrace it." Perry looked at Moira with confusion across his face.

"What do you mean 'embrace it'?" Moira smiled.

"In this shattered world having someone who actually cares, actually feels bad about a person they've never really known, that is a rare thing. Your guilt shows you care; it makes you a better person. It makes you a good person."

Perry searched her eyes, what she said made sense. Maybe he was simply searching to see if she meant it. Moira stood up from the couch.

"If you need to sort your thoughts out, I'd suggest writing them down. It's always helped me whenever I thought up a new doohicky or gizmo… speaking of which, I need to go I just thought of something!" She rushed towards the door but just before she exited she turned around.

"Take care Perry." She winked and then she was gone.

Perry sat on the couch pondering everything Moira just said. He always thought that at best she was odd, at worst she was bat-shit crazy. But she had an interesting new perception on things. She wanted to make the world a better place, but not the same way the Brotherhood or Enclave did. They wanted to rebuild the world as it once was. But Moira wanted to build it into something new. She once compared the world to a glass vase. 200 years ago that vase broke. People have been trying to pick up the pieces and put them back together ever since, but no matter what you do there will always be cracks, the world will never be the same again.

Moira wanted something else. She wanted to take those broken pieces and arrange them into something new and possibly into something better. Despite her shortcomings, Perry still greatly respected and even admired Moira for that. She was an optimist, but a realistic one. While her advice had often gotten Perry into disastrous situations, he had learnt a lot about the Wasteland from them and as a result taught the rest of the Wasteland's people about them as well. Maybe he should take her advice this time as well.

Perry stood up from the couch and walked up the stairs to the new fourth floor of his house. There he entered his study containing a rare working Vault-Tec computer. He had found it during his search around Vault-Tec headquarters and decided he'd keep it. Now was as good a time as any to use it. He sat down at his desk and started up the computer, he then opened a writing program and sat staring at the single blinking line at the top left of the screen. What should he write?

He tapped his finger on the metal surface of his desk. The blinking line was almost mocking him, ordering him to do something besides just sit there. He leant forward and began to type.

I am the Lone Wonderer. I have decided to document my thoughts and maybe one day reach a conclusion about… Perry shook his head.

"Nope, shit." He pressed down on the backspace command until all the words were gone to once again be replaced by the blinking line. He started over.

For future generations, this is the journal of my thoughts. I write this to one day teach people about the lessons they need to learn about this world so we may never repeat the same mistakes… Again, Perry shook his head. Wiping the words from existence once more he sat pondering how the great writers of the past could do this so easily.

Hmm, maybe they didn't. Maybe they needed to practice first as well before they knew what to write about. Father always said, write what you know. Too bad all I know now is war…

War.

The word disgusted Perry. How can you compress the atrocities, the emotion and the absolute horror that is war into a single syllable? Are there any words that can describe it? Perry thought about all the battles he went through in his short life. Even when he grew from the fires of battle into the one-man army he is now known as throughout the wasteland there was only one consistent thing about war. He typed three simple words.

War never changes.

He read and reread those three words and what they meant. His mind began to form ideas that his fingers swiftly turned into sentences. This is the power of language, the ability to take ideas and concepts in their most pure form and make them accessible to anyone with the knowledge to understand them. It made ideas into realities. Perry finished typing and reread what his own mind had created.

War never changes.

The means of war, the purpose of war, those will change. There was a time where humanity fought with swords and arrows, now we fight with machines and rifles. But war itself? That will never change. It is the only consistent aspect of human nature throughout history. The urge to kill and our inability of our collective consciousness to accept others who are different from us has remained fixed in our nature as far back as we are able to know. This cycle of self destruction reached its apex 200 years ago, humanity finally had the power to finish what it seemed to desire most of all. This was possible thanks to nuclear bombs.

If you, dear reader, do not know what a nuclear bomb is, I shall explain it as simply as I can. Imagine the worst thing in the world; nuclear bombs are a thousand times worse than that.

It has been 200 years since that horrible point in history; the scars of that time are still present today. Radiation, mutation, destruction, they are all the result of nuclear weapons. After this moment, where most of humanity has been eradicated and our survival depends most of all on us working together like we should have done in the first place, will we?

No.

Nothing has changed. We continue to fight amongst ourselves over the most trivial of things. My heart weeps when I see this today, when a man who had his skin burned off his body and has to endure the degrading insults and looks of disgust from those who are too quick to judge on appearance. When a person succumbs to their primal drives for violence and kills for the enjoyment of it. When a young girl is forced into a life of sexual depravity and her innocence lost forever by those too selfish to care. I ask myself, what has truly changed?

Even I have killed thousands. What makes me different from those monsters?

A close friend has told me it is because I still care. When I kill a man I see in his dead eyes the life he had lived. I see him growing up as a child, years and years of learning and growth ended by my hand. I can not help myself. I always see the potential for that person being thrown away. What could they have accomplished? Could they have one day changed? These are the thoughts that plague my mind. These are the thoughts that press on my shoulders like colossal weights.

But I have realised tonight that this is the burden I must carry to be a good person. I must embrace this burden, like my father did before me. He died to protect his child. I can only hope one day I will have the honour of doing the same…

As Perry finished reading, his pip-boy suddenly began to beep and flash. Surprised, Perry examined the device and on the screen was an image of a cake and the words HAPPY BIRTHDAY! He looked at the calendar on the screen and saw that indeed it was the 13th of July, 2278; the date of his 20th birthday. Perry smiled at this, he had completely forgotten.

He looked to his left and picked up the photo placed on his desk. It was the photo that was taken on the day he got his pip-boy, exactly 10 years ago. There was himself in that goofy baseball cap, and his father. He had made sure to collect this photograph before he was banished from the vault after helping Amata. He stared at it for a time, the memories of his life in the vault flooding back to him. It seemed like a different existence to him now, so much has changed.

But now was the time for Perry to make a change. Not for himself, but for this Wasteland. It was his father's goal to make this world a better place to live in. Perry would continue his work. He would show the world that there are some things that have to change.

He will show them that things can change.

A/N: There was a plot here, it's gone now. Sorry everyone for this extensive, introspective chapter. I just always thought what would it be like if the Lone Wonderer ever wrote a journal. What would he be thinking? Hopefully you'll find some enjoyment out of this. I'll continue on with the plot, I promise.

Just an acknowledgement, I did get the idea for the journal from the Vault Dweller Memoirs, which is the journal of the first Fallout character. I'd suggest looking it up on as it's a fantastic read. Also, yes the New Vegas mention was because I'm holding my breathe in anticipation for it. I can't wait to see what the original writers of Fallout will do now they've been given the chance to make another game.

Chris Avellone is without a doubt one of my favourite writers. Can't wait to see what he does with New Vegas.