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Emily was sitting at the counter of the Brass Lantern, slowly drinking a Nuka-Cola and trying to stuff a bowl of noodles in her stomach. She was jittery. Very jittery. Her nerves were shot and she really wanted to drink. To forget everything and lose herself in the high of alcohol. To numb it all away and float around like nothing was wrong.

Butch was gone, and it was all her fault. Everyone left her. She almost felt relief in the knowledge that it was normal―normal for her to lose everyone. She still wanted to kill that memory. To forget everything.

Most of all, she wanted to forget what had happened in the night, with Jericho. But she couldn't trust that she wouldn't go off the deep end again, go running back to him, if she got as drunk as that. She barely remembered anything that had happened, up until the end. When he'd taken her from behind―God! She was so sore! Fucking bastard. He didn't have to go that far, smashing her up like that. Calling her names and telling her she was a beggar?

It really wasn't much different than how she'd been treated in the past, though. Emily stared blankly at the wall opposite her. Really wasn't much different than every single thing that had happened to her since she got out of the Vault. She was used to having to hide the memories in the landfill of her mind. It was old hat, now.

Jenny was trying to catch her attention, but she ignored her. Focused on the wall and drank her Nuka-Cola and lifted a shaking fork to her mouth, forcing herself to eat.

"Emily," Jenny hissed, then turned away quickly. Footsteps sounded and Emily caught a glimpse of bad teeth twisted into a devious grin.

Oh, goddammit.

"Aw, you got your face fixed," Jericho said, from behind her. "I kinda liked it all bloody."

"Fuck off, asshole," Emily said, thumping the soda bottle onto the counter.

He laughed. "Nice attitude, you little slut. This is the fuckin' thanks I get for being charitable?"

"Don't you ever listen to what people tell you?" she asked, ignoring his jab. "You ain't supposed to be around me."

Jericho's leather creaked as he slid onto the stool beside her, leaning one elbow onto the counter. "Yeah, I fuckin' listen. About as well as you do," he cackled. "When you coming up?"

"I'm not," she said, firmly. Simms was right about that, she knew. Wasn't a good idea to go back up there with him. Not if he was gonna be as friendly as he had, before. She clenched her hand around the soda bottle, staring at the wall. Didn't bother to make eye contact.

"What, you actually gonna listen to that stupid cowboy sheriff?" Jericho laughed, derisively. "You got somewhere better to go? Gonna hang out with them fuckin' do-gooders at the church?"

Emily ignored him, taking another bite of her noodles. Jericho stared at her for a moment, then leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Look, Emily, I ain't exactly winnin' any popularity contests around here," he said. "I know I roughed you up, but hell, you been riling me up since forever. You gotta give me another chance. A man can change."

"I'll give you a chance to walk away before Simms comes down and finds you here," Emily replied, calmly. She took another drink, swallowing harder than she intended. She was too nervous, couldn't calm down, didn't trust him. Not after he'd―she fought a full-body shudder. Didn't need to go remembering any of that.

"So that's how it's gonna be?" he asked, throwing a hand out to cover hers over her soda. "I gave you a smack or two and you're done with me?"

Emily turned her head slowly, staring at him without any expression. She picked up her fork with her free hand and stabbed him as hard as she could on the back of his hand. Jericho let out a holler and jerked his hand backward, lifting it up like he was going to slap her.

"Fuckin' Christ!" he said, his hand shaking as he stopped himself. "What the fuck!"

"I gave you a chance to walk away," she replied, her voice dead in her throat. "Now you got a chance to get the hell away from me before I scream bloody murder."

"You wouldn't dare―" Jericho hissed, then stood up fast as she opened her mouth wide. "Fine, be that fuckin' way. You'll be back. You always fuckin' come back." He stomped off, swearing under his breath.

At least the threat worked. Jericho seemed to be worried about Simms, now. Emily wondered what had gone on between them. She sighed and went back to her meal.

"Here," Jenny said, handing her a new fork. Emily shook her head. "No, really," Jenny said, a smile tugging at her face. "I'm going to hang that one on the wall, as a trophy."

Emily snorted. "It's not a big deal," she said, sullenly.

"After what happened to you?" Jenny sighed. "We're sisters in suffering, hon."

"Rather not think about it," Emily replied, pushing her bowl across the counter. Goddamn gossips, everywhere she went. She'd stopped caring after―after that incident with Irving and his name, outside of the Citadel. Wasn't worth fighting, anymore.

"You'd better not hold onto that anger," Jenny said. "If you ever need to talk... I'm here for you." She laid the fork down, patted Emily's hand, and removed the other, taking it into the building.

Emily sniffled, fighting back emotion. Yeah, probably a good idea. Everyone here was so well-adjusted, compared to her. Even when bad things happened, like with Jenny and whatever Jericho had done to her.

But they weren't Emily. They weren't even from the Vault. Jenny had her brothers to keep her safe, out in the wastes. They'd all grown up together, come to Megaton, and made something of themselves. Emily came from a place so dramatically different, she couldn't even begin to comprehend what growing up out here would make out of her. She hadn't managed to do anything right in the past few years, except for finish what her father started.

Even then, she hadn't started the purifier. Charon―

She covered her face and cried into her hands. God, why was she acting like this―why was everything so much harder for her, now?

"You alright, Miss Emily?"

Emily dropped her hands. "Don't think so," she muttered, sniffling and turning to look at Sheriff Simms. "But it won't kill me."

"Well." He sat on the stool next to her and tossed a handful of caps down. Jenny moved to the counter, placing down a bowl of food. "Had some thoughts, while I was about."

"Mmhmm," Emily answered, wiping her face on her sleeve.

"You need someone to help you out of this mess you're in," Simms said, picking up a fork. "I could use a deputy. Weld is a fine shot, but not really a people person."

She stared at him for a minute. "What?"

"I'll hire you on as a deputy, if you'd like," he said, shoving a mouthful of food into his mouth and chewing. He swallowed and looked over at her. "You get a job and a purpose, I'll get some help around here."

"I doubt I could be much help―" she started. "Really, sheriff, I think it would be better if I took off."

"I'm telling you that ain't the way to go about it," Simms replied. "Too many folks around here would miss you, for one."

"I definitely would," Jenny put in. "I like having you around, Emily."

Emily shot a glance at the woman, leaning against the wall of the Brass Lantern. "Even if my house damn near destroyed your business?" she asked, softly.

"I don't see that as your fault, now," Jenny said. "The raiders at the school have been trying for ages to get into Megaton. We have what they want, hon. That's what raiders do."

"Megaton is still your home, Miss Emily," Simms said. "Still worth protecting, worth keeping safe. My family, Jenny's family, we're all worth it. Even Jericho, as much dislike as the man works at garnering."

Emily pressed her lips together. That was true enough. But if Simms was serious about this offer, she'd have to deal with him on a regular basis. "...I don't know," she said, slowly. "I don't think I'd be the right person for this job."

Simms chewed in silence, then glanced over at her. "I won't try to convince you if you won't have it," he said. "Give it a few thoughts."

"I still don't have a place to go," Emily muttered. "How can I live in Megaton without a home?"

"There's always room for you at my table, Miss Emily," Simms replied, evenly. Jenny gave a sharp gasp and her head jerked to look at him. Emily stared at the blonde, wondering why she had done that. Simms wasn't well-known for causing such a reaction―

His words finally sunk in and turned her head sharply toward the sheriff. "Um?" she said, confused.

"Look, girl," he said, turning slightly to face her. "You've got some problems. That's alright, you'll get over them. You just need someone to keep an eye on you. I need a deputy that can tell the difference between jackassery and actual violent intent. It could work... if you're willing to give it a try. I wouldn't blame you if you're not."

"But you can't seriously―" Emily moved herself sideways on the stool. "How could you trust me in your house, around your son? I'm a liar and a―" She stopped herself from saying what Jericho had been calling her. I can't say that's a lie, she thought. It wasn't.

"Trusted you to defuse that thing," Simms said, putting one foot up on the rung of the stool. He hiked a thumb at the bomb behind them. "Anyone willing to risk their own life doing that, for the good of my people, is someone I would gladly put up."

Emily stared at him for a moment. She sucked snot up into her head, wiped her eyes, and stared at him again. "I don't think it's a good idea, Sheriff Simms."

Jenny removed Emily's bowl from the table, clearing her throat. "I'm going inside for a few minutes," she said, loudly and obviously. "I'll be back after a bit." Emily watched her practically flee into the Brass Lantern.

"What in the hell―" she started, staring after the woman.

"Folk are conscientious," Simms said, and finished his meal. "Was before your time, Miss Emily. Don't let gossip bother you."

"Gossip about wh―" Emily snapped her mouth shut. She'd hear all about it later, she was sure. From Jenny or someone else―but... moving in with the sheriff? ...As his new deputy? What the hell good could she do, anymore? And―Emily's face flushed a little, thinking about what had happened with Jericho. What did the sheriff expect of her, in this arrangement?

She eyed him cautiously. She did... trust him. She'd never heard a bad word about him. But maybe... maybe he was really good at hiding his bad. Emily was spectacularly terrible at hiding her bad―because she wasn't bad, really. ...Which was why he was asking her to be the deputy, she guessed?

"I suppose it wouldn't be awful to be a deputy," she said, quietly. "But... I don't think it's a good idea for me to―you know―" She cleared her throat. "To move in. You haven't got the room for me. And you've got your boy to consider."

"Until you get a more permanent home," he began, "it would allow for you to talk out your problems. It's not going to be easy for either one of us, Miss Emily."

"I wouldn't think so," she replied, direly.

"You know, Harden likes to pretend to be a lawman. Running 'round town, chasing after Maggie," Simms added. "You be my deputy, he'll probably make Maggie play at being Deputy Emily." He smiled, knowingly. "I bet the poor girl would appreciate a promotion from Criminal Number One."

Emily sputtered a nervous laugh. "I bet," she muttered, and held her Nuka-Cola in her hands, staring down at the bottle. "I'll... I'll think about it, sheriff," she said, slowly.

"You know where to find me," he said, standing up. Simms put a finger to his hat and walked away from the Brass Lantern's counter, leaving Emily to wonder why in the hell he would even bother trying to help her out―why he would even care.

The thought made her very nervous.