She stood in-front of the mirror adjusting the faded grey sports bra she had just put on. It was barely her size, but she made due. Her hands ran over her full breasts to straighten the fabric, but her eyes were focused further down.
They ran down her abdomen and to her scarred and loose stomach. There was a deep chunk taken out of her left side, and the scar ran all the way around her back. She felt as if her whole torso were one ugly pile of scar tissue. She could hardy recall a time when it wasn't. Recall a time when she was younger and pristine.
Her eyes looked up into hers in the mirror, and all she could see were the scars. Inside and out. She could see the worry lines on her brow and the laugh lines around her nose. The small scar on her brow and the more noticeable one on her chin.
She slid her hands further over the scar and closed her eyes.
She put on a short sleeves grey shirt and her jeans. Then slid a gold cross and chain across her table, clasping it around her neck and pulling her hair back into the tight ponytail that it's always in. Afterwords she got on her knees and bowed her head, laying her elbows on the bed and made her hands into a steeple. She began a prayer.
Elias slid his legs off the side of the bed and arose. First time he had slept in an actual bed, in an actual house, in years. And yet he found it as empty and unfulfilled as ever. Maybe he felt like he could do something for a few hours without resting, but he had walked for five years and done the same thing. Something was still missing. And the nightmare's were still coming.
He stood up and went over to his bag, opening it up and seeing the pristine rifle he had taken off the bandit that shot him. He took it out of his bag and grabbed the bottle of whiskey under it. After throwing the rifle onto the bed he unscrewed the bottles cap, taking a long swig of it. It burned like a familiar fire as it went down.
There was no point in sitting around moping all day about last night or the dreams he had. He checked the bandage on his side, then put his cloths back on. Making sure to strap down the gun belt a little looser, as to tuck the bottle of whiskey between it and him.
The sound of his boots across the wooden floor caught Alison's attention. She looked over to her right just as he hit the last stair and looked over at her room. Seeing her on her knee's on the floor made him wrinkle his brow, and he turned and walked her way.
She bowed her head once more and closed her eyes, trying to finish her prayer as quickly as it possible. He leaned against the door-frameand laid the butt of the rifle on the floor, his hand gripping the barrel. "You okay?" He asked curiously if not bluntly.
"Yep." She quickly and innocently replied. "Just saying my morning prayer."
He nodded his head and looked away, trying not to make her feel awkward as he waited for her. She looked over at him with open eyes, but kept her head bowed. "You want to join me?"
He looked over at her and closed his eyes, shaking his head no. When he opened them she was still looking at him. Her stare wasn't of judgment, but of concern and curiosity. He looked away and took a deep breath. "I don't pray. Not anymore."
She blinked quickly a few times and picked up her head. "Why not?"
As she picked her's up, he bowed his, his hat covering the upper part of his face. "I don't got much to believe in, ma'am. Ain't a lot of good happen in my life for me to pray thanks to someone who don't say nothing back. No offense."
She wrinkled her brow, and he thought she was judging him. But then he noticed the slight smirk that accompanied it. "Why pray thanks for the bad things when you can pray forgiveness for all that's gone wrong?"
He paused for a moment as something clicked in his head. He felt an icy chill go down his body, like you feel when you've done something wrong but haven't seen the consequence yet. He shook his head and glanced over at her. "A lot of the shit I've done...there ain't much forgiving me for."
"Elias," She said in a near sigh. "A lot of the shit you've done happened a long time ago and you had to do for a reason."
Elias raised his head and his hand, and with a deep and sudden voice started to ask "Look, can we-." He stopped himself as he saw her expression turn into that of regret. And suddenly his heart sank a little further. The most surprising part of that to him, was they he even had one to begin with. "I...don't want to talk about god, or my past. Please."
She nodded her head gently, her eyes moving down to the rifle he was holding. Her hurt expression flattened. "Is...is that my rifle?" She asked, starting to stand up. He looked at the gun in his hand then brought it up, showing it off to her. "You've got to be kidding, it is my rifle!"
She ran over and and grabbed it from him, checking it over with a spark of excitement in her eyes. "How!? How did you even find it!?"
"Your..." he started to ask in confusion. "That's the rifle that put this hole in my side, I took it off the bandit who shot me. Figured it had to be someone's."
"He shot you with it?" She asked looking up at him. He nodded and leaned back against the door-frame. "Shit, I'm so sorry. It used to be my dad's, I thought it was gone for good this time."
He smirked and watched her run her hand over it's polished mahogany stock, her fingers caressing it as if it were the cheek of an old friend. There was a sense of satisfaction that radiated off her. And the bitter taste in Elias' mouth, and the memories of the nightmares before, faded from thought. And deep inside, on the very edge of conscience thought, he knew. He knew that no matter what he did, he was content doing it in the presence of someone who understands the past. And who could appreciate the present more then he could.
"So," He said deeply but softly. "What's on the agenda for today? Am I going with Carter to...do whatever it is he does all day?"
She giggled near girlishly and shook her head. "Just follow me. And don't tell Carter."
She had grabbed a bandolier and holstered the rifle on her back. Now she looked as much as a cowgirl as she possibly could without wearing a hat. It was old-fashion, Elias thought to himself. More of a novelty as time went on. There were ranchers, but cowboy's were truly few and far between. Elias dressed the way he did after reading old western novels as a child. He was never discouraged from being that way. 'Chivalry is a good man's trate, but it's not necessarily one that should die with them. But it is one that'll die on it's own volition, by it's own hand.'
Elias didn't know what that meant at the time. He had pondered it from time to time, but it took him just shy of two decades for him to figure out what it meant. Chivalry dies out when you stop believing humanity is worth caring about.
Anger, and rage, were the killer of one's humanity. And bitterness was the ash and grit that covered the skin and layered your teeth and tongue.
They walked under the morning dew, staring at the orange streak across the horizon that was the rising sun. They walked though town, talking about nothing in particular. Mostly where they got all their supplies. He learned that some of it was here when they took the town over, but it had long sense been distributed. But the distribution of those supplies helped in the gathering of more. It was a slow process, but pretty soon the town had built up a stock of supplies, and secured trade routes with the other towns.
They walked up to the door of the grocery store and walked in. Slow dance music played over the loudspeakers and the building was surprisingly well light by the dim overhead lights. There were isles and isles of shelves, each isle was packed full of assorted goods. And each isle had a wooden board attached to some chains hanging from the ceiling, with wording painted on them telling the contents of each isle.
"C'mon." She said walking off to the right and past the butcher's shop that was tucked away in an alcove directly to their right upon entering the building. To Elias' surprise it looked and smelled clean as he passed it. Stale and perhaps a little like sugar bombs, but cleaner then what he would have expected it to be.
The isles upon isles were treasure troves of supplies. Elias glanced down each one as they passed by them, seeing isles of clothes, scrap, canned and boxed food. They went down on of the clothing isles and headed toward a foreboding metal door.
Alison grabbed the latch in the middle and twisted. The hinges around it's sides opened out with the sound of scraping metal, then a pressurized hiss as the door slid up into the cieling. Upon stepping through the entrance-way, Elias discovered where Alison had been leading him. The armory.
Though the room was more box shaped, there were several isles of guns and ammunition. Several isles in the middle of the room, and shelves lining all the walls. Most of them were standard guns; hunting rifles, 10mm and 9mm pistols, a few assault rifle's. He chuckled with amazement and a smirked at how well the town had managed to not only keep it's self afloat, but stockpile such artillery. "Take whatever you like," She said walking over to front right corner of the room. "I'll tell you when I'm ready."
He slowly moved down the isle, perusing the rifle's that seemed to all be in good conditions except for a few. 'Well kept.' he thought to himself as he perused past them all. His hand reached out and the tips of his fingers caressing over the stock of an Assault rifle. He heard a clanking from the corner Alison was at, and wondered what she was retrieving.
He crossed to another shelf, this time a variety of melee weapons were both hanging up and laying down. He looked at-least three pairs of brass-knuckles hanging from a nail, then over to a leather sheathed bowie knife hanging from it's string. He wrinkled his brow and reached out, taking one off the nail and undoing it's latch. Grabbing the polished wood handle he slid the razor sharp steel blade out and admired it's glint under the light. He sheathed it and raised his leg, sliding it into his boot. He was never very good at hand-to-hand combat, but it was always best to have a backup.
"So," he said lout enough for Alison to hear. He noticed the movement stopped as she listened. "How do you and Carter know each-other?"
"Me and Carter?" She asked with a near amused chuckle. "I've known 'em all my life. Since I was in my early twenties, just coming out of my teenage years. He...he found me in a bad way. And has been my mentor in life ever sense. He taught me how to shoot, how to hunt, how to scavenge. Taught me how to be a leader, and run this town."
Elias was somberly silent for a minuet before letting out a huff of breath. "Sounds like a father-figure."
She smiled softly and nodded as she loaded the over sized bullets into the clip. "Kinda, yeah. I guess he was one sense I never knew my dad."
Elias nodded as he perused more guns behind her, not turning around to look at what she was doing. "I knew mine, but...not for long. One day he told me "Eli, I want you to remember everything I taught you. I may have been hard on you, but it's a hard world. I know one day you'll grow up to become a survivor." He paused as he stared off into space, remembering his words but not his voice. "And...whatever you do in life, know that I am proud. And I do love you, son."
Alison was quiet, listening onto Elias' breathing which was heavy with an emotion he seemed to not know or know how to deal with. "First and only time he ever told me that." Elias silently stated. He drew in a deep breath and sighed. "Then he...walked out the door, and never walked back in. I was thirteen."
She bowed her head for a moment, almost paying a sort of respect for Elias. But, internally she couldn't decide which was worst. Never knowing your father, or loosing one you did know. "I'm sorry." She stated in a near whisper.
Elias was silent for a moment longer. "So am I." he let another moment pass, listening to her load the bullets into the cartridge. "What about your mom?"
Alison scoffed. "She was there." Instantly Elias could tell she wished that she hadn't been. "She was high on chems and whoring herself out to everything with a heartbeat, but she was there."
She paused and turned around, looking at Elias with an oddly wild look in her eyes and a sarcastic smirk. "Kind of hilarious how it all turned out. My best friend runs a whore-house, I run the town that runs the whore-house, and Carter doesn't have much of a pulse."
Elias chuckled, even smiled, as he shook his head. "Sorry about that. I never knew my mom, she died giving birth to me." He looked over at his shoulder at her. "But I'm sure yours loved you."
She scoffed again, this time smiling and shaking her head. "She was to busy shoving needles in her arms and fucking men, women, ghouls, animals, maybe even a couple kids if she was high enough."
Elias looked away and sighed. "I'm sorry. Must have been rough on you."
She went silent stared at the wall for a second, reaching up and touching the scar on her stomach. "Yeah." She dryly muttered. "It was. But it's the past."
"Sometimes." Elias said almost shamefully. "Sometimes the past is all we got." He knew she would disagree. As much as they were alike, she was more hopeful then he was. He could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice when she talked to him. Before she could reply he turned around and saw the massive rifle she was tinkering with. "What the hell is that?" he asked suddenly and curiously.
"Anti-material rifle." She stated in a matter-of-fact way. "With explosive rounds, for extra asseveration."
"What the hell are you going to do with that?"
She smirked and glanced at him. "We are going Deathclaw hunting."
His expression flattened and turned more serious. "Why? What good is going back there and killing at thing?"
She picked up the rifle and pressed the recoil-suppressing butt to her shoulder and aimed down the scope. "Sooner or later it'll make it's way closer to us, and nobody want's that. Plus there are supplies in that hospital." She looked over at him. "If you want to replace what you've used."
He shook his head in disagreement. "That isn't going to work." He said in a near panic. "This isn't going to work! I've seen what those things can do, they can slash through power-armor!"
She lowered her rifle and wrinkled her brow at the sudden burst of panic. She could even see his eyes were dilated, his breathing was faster and his hands were shaking. "Hey, relax. We'll be at a distance, and this thing can-."
"Don't tell me to relax!" He shouted at her with a snarl. "You are going to get yourself killed! You don't wake up one day and decide to go kill a Deathclaw!"
"I know what I'm doing, Elias." She sternly snapped at him. "I'm not a fuckin' child, don't treat me like I am."
"Have you seen how fast they are?" He asked staring her down, his breathing hard and heavy as his mind raced with past memories he didn't wish to recall. "Have you seen how many bullets they can take before they finally drop!?"
"Elias, stop!" Her hand gripped the rifle a little tighter.
"They'll take down platoon's of Power-armor clad Brotherhood, getting shot to hell while doing it! They'll charge in and leave blood and guts laying in the dirt!"
She drew in a deep breath and finally shouted; "ENOUGH!"
"Jenny, just LISTEN TO ME!" he shouted back.
Suddenly her angered expression melted, as did his. He was left shaking and staring at her with tears in his eyes. He closed the hand he had held out to stop her, his leather glove creaking as he closed it. His arm dropped to his side and he took a step back, now staring off into space. "Elias...?" Alison asked softly, tilting her head and watching back back up until he backed into the shelf behind him.
The shelf rattled and he looked away from Alison, more towards the exit. He contemplated walking away. Out the door, out of the town. Maybe he'd come back, maybe he'd leave before it happened again. He did everything he could inside his own mind, attempting to avoid the past life that swirled around in it's murky darkness. "Who's Jenny?"
Hearing her name out-loud, spoken by another, tore through him as sure as any bullet. He swallowed hard and let out a shaky breath through his nostrils. His shaking hand gripped the counter's edge, and all he could feel was an empty silence. All he could hear was the empty silence. And for that moment, in that single moment. He regretted not being killed long ago. He wished he had been. And it was a feeling that didn't fade. He felt the single but powerful tear slide down his cheek. It was the only feeling he had.
"Elias, who's-?."
Before she could finish Elias walked forward, exiting the room and leaving Alison behind. "Elias?" He heard her voice as he walked forward, through the isles. Suddenly, everything in the world around him lost color. Everything became muted. And he simply kept his pace, walking out of the store and into the dawning day.
He needed to leave. He felt it, in his bones he felt it. He needed to leave. They were wrong about him, he was no hero. He was no good man. He was a dead man, who wished not to be brought back to life. He wanted to despise her, this place, for trying to bring him back. He wanted to hate them all.
But he couldn't. He couldn't feel the warm hate or the bitter snap of anger. All he could feel was coldness. A kind of cold that rolled through his veins and made him want to tare out of his skin to get away from it. His mind went to the guns on his side. "Pull one," he though. "pull one and put it to your head. This will all be over with the twitch of a finger. You know how hair triggered those things are. You'll probably exhale and they'll go off. Just pull one, and end this."
But he couldn't do that either. He didn't have the energy to that. He felt drained, and broken. Felt the break in his heart and mind long ago, and could still feel it. He walked through and out of the town, but he couldn't remember. All he could see were the faces of the dead. The people he had killed, the people who had been killed trying to help him. All he could see was miles of corpses, all rotting under the hot sun.
He'd fall down and become one of them soon.
He couldn't recall how far he had walked before he reached a hill and stared over the desert. He could see heat radiating from the dry, cracked ground, and feel the equally dry, hot wind against his face. He heard hooves behind him, but didn't turn to see who it was. He almost hoped it would be something to come and try to put a bullet in him. The sound stopped, and he heard a thud on the ground. The rider had gotten off.
A hand laid on the center of his upper back, and he turned his head to left to watch Alison come around the side of him. Her hand dragged across to his shoulder and her concerned looking eyes checked him over. He expected a stern 'how dare you' or a 'are you okay?' perhaps even a question he didn't wish to answer. "Elias-"
"Just stop." Elias suddenly snapped after the beginning of her sentence, causing her heart to sink. She saw the look in his eyes, the pained and angry expression on his face. "Just...stop. I had no right to ask you who you were last night, and I apologize. But for all of your wondering where I've been for those five years, have you ever stopped and wondered why I left at all? What could make a man leave his home, leave his life, his morals, his mind, heart, soul behind?"
"Elias, I-."
"Because no one ever does. You all want something from me, from The Ranger. Because that's what I am to you all, The Ranger. A legend. And legend's don't feel pain, they don't stop and look down at the blood on their hands..."
She could see the expression of his face twisting into sorrow as he looked down at his hands. It was killing her inside. She could feel her heart sink with every second. "Elias, you help people..."
"And the people just go and get them selves in trouble again. They go and live out pointless fuckin' lives in this irradiated hell hole knowing that one day they'll probably see their loved ones raped and tortured by raiders or town apart by... abominations. But yet they ask me to help them. They all ask for The Ranger's help, a living legend. A living legend that, no matter how hard he tries, can't scrub off the blood from his fucking hands."
"They didn't care what happened to me, as long as what ever they wanted was met! My life was meaningless to them! I wanted to help people, and if that meant getting my hands dirty so that others wouldn't then that was fine. But now that I've gotten older, I can't look at my hand without seeing the blood, Alison."
"But now...I can't...I can't live a day without thinking nothing has changed. I was born missing something, and I'll die missing even more. Because everything I touch turns to blood and rust. And it just makes my hands more and more covered. One day I'll wake up and be covered in red. And that'll be the day when I'm done. I'll have lost everything and everyone, and it'll be just me. Owning nothing. Having no one. I'll die alone, in the dark, the way I was born. I'll see the faces of the ghosts I used to know. And I'll feel the weight of their deaths crush me until I can't breathe anymore."
"Then don't serve man!" She snapped back at him, causing him to look over his shoulder at her. "Man is cruel, Elias. Sick and cruel, and you're servicing no one, least of all yourself, if you serve them."
It came rushing back to him. The old man's voice telling him something he didn't understand at the time. Telling him over and over again. "It's a cruel world, and it breeds cruel men." and now here it was again. Standing before him like a ghost come back to haunt him.
"Something happened to you." She said, her voice cracking with emotion. "It broke you. Something terrible happened to you and you can't escape it, Elias. No matter how far you walk, no matter how many times you try to die. You can't escape what has been done to you. All you can do is learn to live with it, and lay it to peace."
He knew that Alison didn't know what he'd been through. No one did. It was only him, as it had been for years. So she couldn't have known how close to home her words hit him. There it was, the bitter pill to swallow. The truth, acting as a poison in a bottle. Die miserable and broken, or accept a horrible reality and mend the wound.
But he couldn't let it go, not now. He knew now what to do, but he didn't want to do it. He wasn't ready for that. Wasn't ready to accept the fact. He let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes, one final tear rolling down his scarred cheek.
Suddenly Alison's arms slid around his neck, pulling his head down and resting it on her shoulder. He was taken off guard and surprised by this. An act of affection, something he wasn't used to. Then again he wasn't used to any of this. Not even the tears he shed. One of her arms slid under his until her hand rested on the center of his slumped back. Her other hand resting on the back of his head. Something inside him suddenly collapsed.
He gave in. His hands laid on her waist and slid around her body until his arms were around her. He brought her body in close to his, holding her against him. He liked the feeling. The feeling of the affection, of her body pressed against his. And suddenly, as if what had happened wasn't enough, he felt one more thing.
His heart. It gave one solid, strong beat. Then it kept a steady pace afterwords. He could feel it, for the first time in how many years he could feel his heart beating in his chest. And he realized that, long ago, he had convinced himself he didn't have one. And he was better off for it.
But now, he could feel it. He closed his eyes, and nuzzled his face into her neck. The act took Alison by surprise, but she wasn't against it. She held him tighter, stroking her hand down the back of his neck. They embraced each-other, on the top of that hill. The massive orange rising sun behind them, turning the sky yellow.
And for both of them, for one moment, it didn't feel so bad to be alive.
They rode back and along a somewhat beaten path before turning off and riding up to the top of a sand covered hill. Elias knew they were on the overlook of the hospital, but was willing to do something he hadn't done in a long while. Trust.
They dismounted the strider, and Elias kept the reins in his hand. Alison pulled the Anti-material rifle from the rifle's holster on the side of the strider, and found a flat spot on the top of the hill. She set the rifle up, and looked over to Elias. "In the saddle-bag there's a stick of dynamite and my lighter. Grab them. When I tell you to, light the dynamite and throw it down near that old car. We need to draw it out."
Elias gave a nod and retrieved the items from the bag, then waited for her to adjust the sights on the rifle. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Ready." She replied afterwords. Elias lit the fuse on the dynamite and threw it as hard as he could down at the old car. In that moment he was glad Alison had patched him up last night, or he would have been unable to make that throw and be in pain from it.
The dynamite hit the hood of the of the car and bounced into the front seat. They only had to wait perhaps three seconds before the dynamite exploded and, in the process, exploded the car into a small mushroom cloud of fire and smoke. Debris scattered, hitting the ground, and the car lifted momentarily off the ground upon the explosion before slamming back down. Elias cringed and held the strider's reins as it whinnied and tried to back away. "Easy, girl. Easy." he comforted it, not even sure if it was a stallion or a mare.
The sound of the fire crackling was the only noise heard for a moment, and Elias began to fear the Deathclaw had moved on. That they would have to track it. But after a moment of nothing but silence, the beast emerged from the hospital.
Ran out in great strides then slowed once it was near the burning vehicle. It stood straight up on it's hind legs, claws digging into the ground. Raising it's head, it began sniffing the air, It's claws were already extended, ready for a kill. It craved one.
Alison lined the red bead in the center of the scope up with the Deathclaw's head. She took in a deep breath, then slowly began letting it out. Another moment of Silence. Elias gripped the reins of the Strider tighter in his hand as he braced.
Alison pulled the trigger, and the ground shook. Dust flew up around her and the gun recoiled into her shoulder. The sound of the shot echoed through the canyons and hills all around them. But the bullet hit under the Deathclaw's chin, blowing the top of it's head outwards. It's massive body toppled to the ground with a plume of dust, and she could already see blood running out of it's head around it's body, wetting the ground around it.
She took her eye away from the scope and let out her breath, smiling at her handy work. It had been too long sense she handled a gun. She looked over at Elias and smiled. "Told you it would be okay."
Elias smirked nervously and gave a chuckle to boot. She giggled at his nervousness. For such a rough man, he did have a soft-side. And did have his human fears, such as Deathclaws. She stood, picking up her rifle as she did. "C'mon, we'll do our best to clear the place of supplies."
They walked down the hill, Elias leading the Strider. He couldn't believe she had actually done it. He trusted her, and for once his trust was well put. She'd taken the shot and killed one of the baddest beasts in the wasteland's.
She looked over at him, watching him keep sentry on the horizon. Always looking for the next sign of danger. She smiled and looked away, thinking about the embrace on the top of the hill. She shouldn't have done it, but she wanted to. She wanted to and gave into that want. It had been to long since she felt the arms of another around her.
She smiled again and bowed her head. The day had just begun, and already it was the best she had in years.