Note: I have hope for this, now. Unleashed my inner cowboy.
The house was quiet when Simms entered it. Harden had been sleeping, like him, when her house began to fall. He was sitting downstairs at the table, waiting nervously for Simms to return. The boy looked up at him when he entered and shot a glance at the upstairs level.
"I know," Simms told him, as he opened his mouth to speak. "Go on, go play with Maggie. I got to talk to Miss Emily."
Harden took off without a word. Simms sometimes felt a little selfish for not letting his son exercise his boyish chicanery. Lord knew he was never as well-mannered as Harden, growing up. He'd learned a lot of lessons his own way, out in the wastes. Lessons he didn't want Harden to have to learn, but knew he would. One way or another, he would.
He walked up the stairs and knocked on the bedroom door, then opened it slightly. "Miss Emily," he said, quietly. "May I come in?"
"Yeah," she said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry, sheriff," she added, before he could speak. "I ain't been acting nice."
"That you have not," Simms said, moving into the room and sitting on the edge of the desk. "What is going on with you, girl?"
Emily sighed and wiped her eyes. She'd been crying, face was still all messed up from before. "I don't know," she said. She put her thumbs together and rubbed them against themselves. "I... I guess I just don't know what to do with myself, right now."
Simms knew that feeling. Before he'd been a Regulator, he'd never had much to credit to himself. Emily's unusual upbringing and her actions in the past few years should have defined her character better than it had. This Lone Wanderer persona didn't really fit her, it seemed. She'd always been a little too talkative. Always had a kind word for people in town. She'd always been willing to help Moira or Walter with their work, to sit in the old bus with Manya and patiently listen to Nathan prater on, to talk shop with Jenny and Andy, or even to put up with Billy Creel's impressive cheerfulness.
But that girl wasn't here, right now. She'd been changed for the worst, in the wastes.
He changed the subject to a more pertinent one. "...I never saw you raise your voice against anyone in town, except for that old asshole. I gotta wonder," Simms said, "why you'd go and put yourself in that situation. Why you'd let yourself get hurt."
"Jericho beat my face against the wall," she mumbled, looking down at her thumbs. "I was..." she sniffled a little. "Trying to apologize. I guess it didn't work."
"That man doesn't know forgiveness," Simms said, breathing out slowly. "I know you're a decent sort, Miss Emily. Jericho is not. You stay away from him, from here on out. I don't want to have to kick you out of town."
"Can't kick me out," she said, quietly. "I don't live here, anymore."
"Girl, you think just because your house is gone, you don't belong here?" She shrugged, keeping her eyes on her hands. "That's ridiculous. You disarmed the bomb! Hell, I wouldn't have invited you to stay if I didn't think you would do us more good, here in Megaton."
"I haven't, though," she muttered.
"I'll give you that your actions in the past have been odd," Simms replied, "but I'm not going to discount you entirely, not yet. You've got a long time to figure yourself out. Megaton is a hell of a lot safer, because of you―hell, if that bomb hadn't been disarmed, can you imagine what might have happened last night?" He flung an arm out to the door, motioning outside.
She shrugged again. "I dunno."
"I think I can say we might not be seeing this sunrise," Simms said. "Look, girl, this bad shit happening out here, it's not your fault. Spending the night with Jericho, well, you know better, but we all make mistakes. Think you ought not to be so hard on yourself."
Emily sobbed and covered her face. "But... Butch is dead because of me," she moaned. "It's all my fault!"
Simms rubbed his beard and sighed, watching her cry. He stood, moving to the bed, and put an arm around her, patting her back. Emily cried into his shoulder, soundlessly. He didn't rightly know what to say about the boy; wasn't sure who he really was, to Emily.
"He didn't even want to come here. I made him," she whined. "I left him in the house because―" she sniffled and pressed her face into Simms' shirt. "I'm so goddamn stupid."
Simms rubbed her back through his duster. "I know how hard it is to lose a friend," he said. "Lost plenty myself, some because I wasn't good enough to protect them. We're all stupid like that when we're young."
She rubbed her forehead against him and didn't answer. Yes, he'd lost a few Regulators, while going after bounties. Escaped by the skin of his pants on occasion. After a time, his aim improved and his business got better; he learned his lessons and got craftier. Still lost a fellow every now and then, but he'd always tried his best to keep his men safe.
And he knew the pain of losing a loved one all too well. Harden's mother... Simms pressed his mouth into a line and breathed out. There were still some things he blamed himself for.
Emily sobbed herself out on his shoulder, going limp against him. She sucked snot up into her head and rubbed her thumbs together again, staring at them with the crown of her head pushing against him. Simms had never noticed but she'd lost the tip of her left thumb, at some point.
"Where will I live," she muttered.
"I'm sure we can figure something out, Miss Emily."
She pulled herself away from him and kept her eyes down. "Maybe I should leave town, anyway," she said. "Better for everyone if I'm not around to make trouble."
"Running away never solved anything, girl." Simms patted her shoulder and removed his arm from her. "And I never figured you for a quitter."
"That's what got me into this mess to begin with," she muttered. She glanced up at him. "Not letting people go. People letting me go. Haven't got anyone left."
"You owe this town a little too much to go running off," Simms told her. "Give it a chance."
"If you say so." She sighed and looked even more tired than the night before. Didn't look very rested, not at all.
"Did you sleep?" he asked her, raising an eyebrow.
Emily shook her head. "Um," she said, biting her lip. "I haven't been sleeping well lately without―" She closed her eyes. "I can't fall asleep unless I drink myself stupid."
Simms bit his tongue before he said what he was thinking, that if she'd been drinking like that it was no wonder she spent the night with Jericho. Instead he stood up and stared down at her. "Listen, Miss Emily, I'll run over and grab your clothes, and then we'll see what's going on with your house."
"Okay," she said, sniffling.
"And after that, I'll find you somewhere to sleep," he said. "Maybe we'll rebuild your place, in the future. If you'd like that, that is."
"Your house looks just like mine," she said, quietly. "It's kind of funny. Your bedroom is way bigger than mine, though." She let out a small relieved laugh. "That's not fair."
Simms smiled gently at her. The old Emily was still in there, somewhere. She just needed a friend to help her out of that funk.
"I'll be right back, Miss Emily," he said, closing the door behind him.
After half an hour he had his duster back. He'd issued another warning to Jericho, a little more forcefully this time, and was walking with Emily down to Doc Church's. She was covered in scratches from head to toe and her face had swollen up more than ever, which was worrisome. Mostly it was worrisome because she claimed it didn't hurt all that much and Simms knew she was lying again.
"I don't like this lying business, Miss Emily," he told her, as they headed down the hill. "Best you put a stop to it."
"Or what," she said, without emotion.
"Or I'll not trust you," he answered. "Precious few people around here I can take at face-value. Rather not see your face value be as messed up as your actual face is, right now."
She chuckled softly. "O-kay," she said. Simms nodded, in satisfaction. That was the old Emily, to a tee. She was doing somewhat better. That gave him an idea that he was not comfortable with, on a moral ground, but was probably for the best. For her, at any rate―his reputation would take a hit for it. He put a pin in that, for now.
"Your nose is broken," Doc Church said, giving his best bedside manner. Simms stood behind Emily with his arms crossed, looking over her shoulder at the doctor. "Couple of stimpaks will fix it just fine."
"I don't have any caps on me," she said, slowly.
"I'll pay for it, Miss Emily," Simms said. "You can pay me back later."
"You don't have to," she told him.
"That's the point," Simms replied, looking down at her.
"Alright," she whispered.
The swelling was almost entirely gone when they left, the bruise slowly fading. Emily seemed in an odd mood, though, kept looking back at Simms and biting her lip. He knew that look; she was worried she'd end up paying more than just caps for kindness. He'd seen that too many times, in the wastes. Couldn't convince her otherwise, either; that type would always think like that until proven wrong through action. He ignored the look and cleared his throat.
"Your things were taken to the church," Simms said, pointing across the way. There was still a bit of mangled metal lying about the middle of town, but Andy and Leo were gathering it to rebuild their counter roof outside the Brass Lantern. Emily sighed and ran a hand up her forehead to her hair, shaking out dust. "I highly suggest you arrange with Mother Maya to have it stored, for now."
"I'll just liquidate it," she said. "As much as I can."
He nodded, and escorted her up the walkway to the church, following her inside. After a few minutes of talking with Mother Maya, Emily gathered up some things in a sack and carried it up to Moira, selling as much as she could. She slung her fancy rifle over her back, filled a few pockets with ammunition, and went back for a second round.
Took her five trips to fully unload most of her things, after which she counted with one hand and handed Simms a handful of caps. "For the stimpaks," she said. "And a little more by way of apology, for putting everyone in such a weird way."
"Girl, you didn't do nothing wrong," he said, accepting the caps and passing the extra back. "You want to give money away, go find Confessor Cromwell. And I'm sure Andy would appreciate the patronage."
Emily sniffled. "I'm gonna go eat," she said. "Be at the Lantern, unless they won't sell to me."
"I'll meet you there," he told her. Emily shot him a questioning look, part fear and part actual curiosity. "I've got to make some arrangements," he clarified, "but I'll come sit and we'll jaw some more about your predicament. That fair?"
Emily sighed in defeat. "Yeah, alright," she muttered. "Catch you later."
Simms watched her trudging down the hill toward the Brass Lantern, then shook his head. Girl needed a lot of support, to get over her problems. He might be a fool for thinking it, but he figured it was in his nature to be foolish.
Just as it was in her nature to be a cheerful young woman with undeniable charm and an assload of caps. She was too vulnerable to let wander off into the wastes, right now.
And he was too stubborn to give up on her, just yet.