Virgil

When Wendy wakes me, I head to Mom and Dad's room to check on her, and when I see the bare mattress, grief descends upon me again. I miss her already.

I dress, robotically.

Only close friends and family were invited. I'm sure that more people will stop by later today, to pay their respects.

I meet Dad out by the Brahmin pen and wait for the guests to arrive. I expect Wendy's family to arrive early, to help us prepare. Both of us have our best, cleanest clothes on – dark pre-war suits, his heavily tailored. The same ones we wore to my wedding.

"Did you eat?" I ask him.

"No."

"Me neither. Are you hungry?"

"No."

"Me neither."

The old pattern reasserts itself – I start to whittle, he smokes.

Shortly after seven, Wendy's family appears on the horizon, some walking, others sitting in a small cart, similar to ours, pulled by a Brahmin.

"Showtime."

He grunts.

It's a short affair, what mom would have wanted, had she wanted a funeral in the first place.

We all say some words, pass a bottle.

Dad puts a bottle of whiskey in one of mom's hands, and a pack of cigarettes in the other. He places her in the middle of the sheet that had been on their bed. He, I, and two of Wendy's brothers grasp the bedsheet and slowly lower mom into the ground.

Dad insists on shoveling the dirt back in the grave, but I tell him that we'll take turns. All of us love her; all of us want to. The women go into the house while the men shovel, to ready the food for the memorial service.

People drop in, periodically.

The innkeeper and his wife, the man that tailored our suits, and various friends that mom had made in town decide to come by. Neighbors stop by to express their condolences. Even the owner of the saloon closed down for a few hours to come to the memorial, the first time in anyone's recollection that he'd ever done such a thing.

We settle into our chairs on the back porch. Wendy brings us both some food. "Eat," she says. Dad stares at the plate, as if it were just dropped on his lap by an alien from outer space. "Eat it, Dad. All of it."

Only then does he start eating – after I order him to. This is heartbreaking. I can't do this.

When we get a moment alone, I say, "I think we should tell Wendy about the contract."

He nods. "I agree." I'm surprised that he's so quick to assent.

"Are you just saying that because I have your contract? Or are you saying it because you're my dad?" I ask.

"I am saying it because I trust her."

I wonder what happened to change his mind.

"She reminds me…she reminds me of your mother, when she was young."

I frown. Wendy looks nothing like mom. Mom was taller, more muscular. She had dark hair, Wendy's is light. Mom was brusque, Wendy is tactful. I guess the only thing that they have in common is blue eyes. The shade is different, though – Wendy's eyes are the blue of a serene summer sky. Mom's were the unforgiving blue of icy Arctic glaciers.

"She is strong. Determined." He says.

I nod.

"She is not dark, troubled, and angry like your mother used to be. But they share the same – " he searches for a word.

"Spirit?" I offer.

"Yes. The same…spirit."

Wendy

After dark, I find Charon kneeling next to Mal's grave.

I approach slowly; rest a hand on his shoulder.

"I was wrong." He says.

"Wrong about what?" I ask.

"When Mallie was young, she was worried about what would happen to me when she died. I thought…" he trails off.

I rub his shoulder. "What? You thought what?"

"I thought…that it would be best if she died first. That I was the stronger one."

Oh my.

He touches the mound of earth. "I was wrong."

We stand at the window in our room, looking out at Mal's grave. Charon, as usual, is kneeling next to it.

"We have to do something!"

"Virgil, calm down. Leave him be."

He turns, and with purpose, strides toward the bedroom door, intending to go outside. I've HAD IT. "Virgil KIRK!" I shout. He stops with his hand on the doorknob, flinches. I've never yelled at him before. "Let him grieve."

He turns, face grim. "Wendy, it's been a week. He's only left there to eat, and do his business." He's exasperated. "He even sleeps out there. I can't watch him suffer like this anymore."

"So, what're you gonna do?" I ask, pointing out the window. "Go out there, and tell him how he should grieve? For a wife of over forty years?"

He looks down at his shoes. "She was my mother. I loved her too."

"You still love her. Don't use the past tense." I'm angry. I have every right to be. I've been living with ghosts, listless men who spoke only when spoken to, for the past week. I have carried their emotional burden on my own shoulders. With the help of one of my sisters, I have cooked for them, cleaned for them, done the laundry, reminded them to bathe, and in the case of Charon, even helped them dress.

"And another thing – " I'm interrupted by a knock at the door.

I sigh. "Go see who it is. I'll bring him inside, if it makes you feel any better."

He hurries to the door; I hurry out back.

"It's time to come inside, Charon."

"Bring my food out here."

"No."

He looks at me – the first time his eyes have focused on anyone's face since the funeral. "I can't leave her." I kneel next to him, put a hand on his back. "She'll always be with you." He closes his eyes, nods, and rises. I take his hand and lead him into the house, his head bowed, his steps slow and deliberate.

Charon

I can't leave her. I don't want to leave her.

I know it's only a matter of time before Virgil orders me away. Watching my pain makes him feel worse, but I can't help it. I suspect Wendy might be shielding me, making it last as long as possible.

She comes out to get me, coaxes me inside. We walk in on a conversation at the open front door.

" – looking for someone named Maleficent." My head snaps up, eyes wide.

"She's not here." Virgil.

"Then I've been ordered to speak with one, Charon, a ghoul." I drop Wendy's hand, and stride to the door with heavy, purposeful steps. I'm rewarded with a view of five suits of Brotherhood power armor, glistening in the sun.

"You want to speak with her?" I ask.

"Yes."

"Come with me." I push through the door, walk down the steps and around the house, leading the Brotherhood soldiers to the mound of dirt out back. I sweep my arm over it. "Ask her all the fuckin' questions you want." I sneer, and cross my arms over my chest.

They stand, quiet, for a moment. The one in front turns. "Scribe Rothchild! Record her name, and history. For the Lyon's Pride records."

"Yes sir!" A small, dark-haired woman in red robes darts out from between two power armor-clad soldiers, and runs into the house.

"If you are Charon, we need to talk."

"Take off that fuckin' helmet first. "

"So, the Enclave was looking for her." I say. Incredible. After forty years, they still hold a grudge over that fucking water purifier.

"We don't know why, sir. We were hoping that you – or Maleficent – could tell us." Knight Johnstone was a by-the-book kind of guy, follows orders, efficient, but inflexible – I know the type.

"How did you find us?"

"Are you serious?" he asks. "There aren't many seven-foot-tall ghouls out there. You make a hell of an impression."

"If you found us, then they can find us."

He looks surprised.

"Virgil, Wendy – we gotta leave!" I yell towards the house.

I look Johnstone in the eyes. "You tell your superiors to leave us the fuck alone."

"Understood."

"Now leave, and don't come back."

Virgil

"My grandfather knew your mother – briefly."

The small woman in dark red robes spoke. "She's quite a legend back east. My dad told me stories about her. I requested this assignment – I'm sorry we didn't come sooner. I would have loved to record her story in her own words."

"She passed a week ago."

She writes on a clipboard. "Of what?"

"Intentional Med-X overdose." She stops writing.

"May I ask…why?"

"Wasteland Pain Syndrome."

Her jaw clenches, and she closes her eyes. Maybe reminds her of someone she loves?

"I'm sorry."

I tell her everything that I know about mom – about 101, the violin, the water purifier, the slavers. Even Megaton.

"Virgil, Wendy! We gotta leave!" What now?

Charon

"Get the packs ready. We don't have much time. Wendy…take Mallie's."

"But…I've never hiked before." She whines.

"No better time than the present."

I corner Virgil. "The Enclave is coming."

"How do you know?"

"He said they're after your mom. Probably me, too. He doesn't know why, and neither do I."

Virgil calls Wendy's family on the radio and tells them to take care of our livestock, that we're leaving for an emergency, and don't know when we'll return.

We suit up and shoulder our packs. Wendy – inexperienced is an understatement – has a hard time with the buckles and snaps. Virgil helps her – he's been in armor since his early teens, again, at Mallie's insistence.

Right now, I'm grateful that she pushed me to train him. One useless person is bad enough out in the wastes – how on earth would I protect two?

As we leave, I turn back, and glance longingly at the mound of dirt behind our home.

We head north, towards the hills.

Wendy

I'm not gonna lie – I'm terrified.

I know about the Enclave, everyone does – but no one's seen any Enclave out here in decades!

Where will we sleep?

My lord, this stuff is heavy. The armor makes everything awkward. I fit in Mal's fine – it's a little big, but not too big – but I've never worn this stuff before. It's bulky, hard to move in. The pack is heavy, even after Virgil and Charon lightened it.

I'm not strong like Mal. I'm slower than them, and I know it's irritating them. I want to cry. I can't help it. I want to go home.

Charon

We hike for about an hour before I suggest a rest. Wendy needs it – she's not used to this kind of physical strain.

"What's that sound?" Virgil asks.

"What?"

"Can't you hear that?"

"I hear it." Wendy says, frowning.

OH SHIT. WE'RE TOO LATE. "It's a vertibird. Getting closer. It's only a matter of time. "

There's nowhere to go.

"We have to run!" yells Wendy, panicking.

"They'll just find us. Then they'll be more pissed off because they had to look."

The noise gets louder, and eventually, the bulky aircraft lands on the flattest clearing the pilot can find. Four fully armored, fully armed Enclave soldiers file out, with an officer.

I stand next to Virgil, Wendy peeking out from my other side.

"Citizens!" yells the officer.

We give him our full attention.

"We're looking for one Maleficent."

Virgil speaks. "She's dead."

"Well, well – that makes our job easier. No need to continue the search. Just to be sure you're not lying to me, I'd like to scan all of you – or, the two of you." he spies Wendy behind me. He holds out a small device. "It will only take a couple seconds. Just let me scan your retina, and you can be on your way."

Nervous, Wendy steps forward and accepts the scan.

"Hmm…yes, you aren't her."

He looks at me. "Unfortunately, we can't scan ghoul eyes. Physiology, you know. I feel safe in saying that you aren't her, either."

He looks at Virgil. "You next."

"But I'm obviously male."

"There is no harm in being scanned. Just look into the device."

He does.

The scanner emits a loud beeping sound. Uh oh. We've got problems.

The officer smiles, a broad grin. "Oh, this is just too wonderful! Sir, I'll have to ask you to come with me."

"WHAT?"

The officer's face becomes stony; hard. "Come with me, sir, or we'll take you by force."

"Just…just let me say goodbye first."

"Whatever you need to do. Make it quick."

Wendy

What's going on? Why do they want to take him? Why isn't he fighting? Why isn't he running? Oh my God!

I stand next to Charon, petrified with fear. The bogeymen have come. And they're taking my husband! As children, we were told stories about how the Enclave took children, and they were never seen again. I thought they were just stories…

Virgil stuffs his hand in his pocket, pulls it out again, nervously. He hugs me, fiercely. "When I run, you run." He looks into my eyes. "I love you, Wendy." He grasps my hand, places something in it – something warm and hard – and closes my hand tightly around it. "Take care of him." He whispers.

He turns to Charon. "I need you to let me go, Dad."

Charon looks agitated, angry. "NO. Stand down." He looks into his eyes, touches Charon's arm, glances at me. "Take care of her."

Charon frowns, looks at me, then his eyes widen with what could only be surprise. He nods at Virgil. What the hell is going on?!"

Virgil turns to the officer. "I'm ready."

"Wonderful, wonderful! Thomas, your father has waited so long to see you again."

"My father?"

"Ah, yes – we'll have to tell you on the ride. Come." The officer waves him on, Virgil following obediently.

One of the soldiers asks, "Sir, what do we do with the locals?"

"Shoot them."

Virgil breaks out into a run, and we scatter.

Charon

I hope he knows what he's doing.

I can't let them take my son.

…but I have to stay with her. Protect her.

When Virgil breaks out into a run, we head in different directions. The soldiers, distracted, lost track of us. I hide behind a boulder about ten yards away – God only knows where Wendy is.

I can barely hear them over the noise of the vertibird starting back up. "We don't have time for this shit! Let's go!"

It lifts into the air and turns east, carrying the Enclave; carrying my boy.

I search for Wendy, and find her huddled in an outcropping of rock near a ledge.

"They took him, didn't they?" She asks.

"Yes."

We have to go. We have to get back.

"Did he give it to you?" I ask.

"What?"

"A metal cylinder. Small."

"Oh, this?" She holds it up. "What is it?"

"Hold onto it. I'll tell you when we get back to the house."

Wendy

What. The. Hell.

"Charon, you're my father-in-law, I can't order you around like a slave."

He sighs. "Well, you're gonna have to learn."

"I can't – "

"Yes, you can. You have to."

"But Mal – "

"Mallie did order me – it was just…subtle."

I stare at the little cylinder on the table. Virgil had cleaned it off, obviously – it was bright silver, probably titanium, about two and a half inches long and less than an inch thick.

He lays Mal's combat knife on the table. "Now, for the next order of business. Securing it."

Charon

When I told her what we had to do, she got quiet, scared.

Well, of course. She's a little country girl, way out in the Texas Commonwealth, unaccustomed to pain.

"I can put you all the way out. You'll feel nothing."

"Does it have to be…there?" she asks.

"No, but I strongly advise somewhere on your torso. Limbs can get blown off; mangled." She shudders. "Plus, there, it's…easier to conceal."

She fixes her face in a mask of bravery. "Fine. I want it on the right side, though."

I hit her with a stimpak and watched the flesh knit up beneath her right breast. I fetch a washrag and clean her off; clean the floor. Buttoning up her blouse, I think of all the times I did this for Mallie – when she was hurting, she'd ask me to dress her. I pause, distracted by the memory.

She'll wake up in fifteen minutes or so.

That gives me enough time to get Mallie's things. It occurs to me that this may be too many surprises in one day. I don't want to shock her. I have little choice, though, if we're ever going to get Virgil back. I pull the wooden box out from under the bed, and bring it to the table, waiting for her to wake.

Wendy

"What is that?" It looks old, pre-war. Probably old when Mal had it.

"It's called a Pip-Boy 3000. There are other, newer models. This was Mallie's. It's a computer for your wrist."

It'll be a miracle if that thing still works.

I flip it over. "It says, 'To reboot, place on arm and press for five seconds' this button here."

I look at Charon. "I hope you know what you're doing," as I slip on the machine, and tighten it. I feel on the back, and hold the small button.

After 5 seconds, the screen lights up, a bright, fluorescent green. "Well…I'll be damned. Guess they don't make stuff like they used to."