They headed north, on 75. Celia left everything behind, including her Pip-Boy, just in case. The trip was eventful, and she winced every time Lionel had to resort to using his pistol as a club, after running out of bullets. She did her best to take down the ants and bloatflies they'd run across, with her rifle. They didn't meet any other people or ghouls on the trip.

For that, she was grateful, because she still remembered her own reluctance to shoot Wade. Even though she knew she ought to have done it then, she'd never shot a person before. It wasn't something she wanted to do. Lionel didn't bring it up.

He didn't complain about his arm, either, but let Celia minister it, when they had to stop for the night just off the highway. Lilian watched her explain how to wrap it, and asked a few questions, but removed herself from the conversation after the wound started oozing. Celia didn't say anything, neither did Lionel. He only grimaced and let her wrap bandages around his chest.

Celia didn't think anything about it. She wanted to help, and her care of his arm stub was the only thing she felt confident enough to do beyond shooting the occasional creature.

Every time they camped, she would curl herself up under a tree and pull a bit of brush over herself. Lilian slept near to her, and Lionel watched over them. He must not be sleeping much, she thought, that's bad. If he didn't let her help with that―

She sighed. Everyone was acting strained. She tried not to let hers show. Lilian started treating her a little less gently, and more adult. Lionel didn't seem to care, just kept his mouth shut and marched on.

It was when they got off the highway, around noon on the second day, that the tempers started to flare. Lilian started it with a question about where they were going.

"St. James," he said, without looking at her.

Lilian startled and Celia watched them, interested. "Why in the world would we go there?"

"No soldiers," he stated.

"No, but how long do you think she'll last there?" Lilian asked, pointing at Celia. "The place is chock full of ghouls, and not the kind that would be pleasant company."

"I suppose you would know all about that, then," he muttered.

Lilian stopped in her tracks. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Lionel didn't respond. Celia remembered his reaction, before. He hadn't looked very happy at all to hear what she'd asked. She felt a sudden panic. "I didn't mean to," she mumbled, to Lilian. "I asked about the barges."

Lilian's face was one of shock, then anger. "Oh, you stupid girl!" she started, before Lionel stuck his arm out to her and put himself in between the two women.

"I don't care," he said, "what has happened, but you don't get to blame the kid."

"What the hell is this?" Lilian asked, putting her hands on her hips. "What's happened?"

"What's happened?" he growled. "I lost my fucking arm!"

Lilian shut her mouth and glared at him. "And somewhere along the line, had a discussion about me?"

"No," Celia said, solemnly. "Lionel was telling me about cars, and motorboats."

"Oh, my God," Lilian said, rolling her eyes. "And you couldn't keep your mouth shut? I told you that was―"

"A secret?" Lionel asked. "That you didn't want me to know." He put his hand out, on Lilian's shoulder.

"Lionel―"

He said something under his breath to her, and Celia was glad she didn't hear it. Lilian's face screwed up and she began making crying noises. "I'm sorry," she moaned. "For all it's worth!" She turned away and covered her face.

"Keep it up," Lionel grumbled. "I don't think the act is very impressive, anymore." He started walking again. Celia followed, her cheeks on fire. She was sorry she'd even asked him anything, now.

Lilian caught up after a moment and sunk her hand into his remaining arm. "You won't last a day up there, alone!" she hissed. She glared at Celia. "Not with her."

"The soldiers won't follow us there," Lionel said, simply. "They don't know about it, or they would have done something about the place, already."

"You know what happens to smoothskins in ghoul cities!" Lilian said.

Celia stopped and crouched down, put her hands over her ears and closed her eyes. She didn't want to hear them fighting. They'd never fought in front of her, not since the argument when Lilian had returned the last time. Lilian hadn't realized she had an audience, that time.

The ghouls kept walking for a little while, but eventually Lionel came back and crouched down in front of Celia. "Kid," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder. "You gotta keep up."

"I don't want to go anymore," she said. "Leave me here. I'll sleep in a tree, when I'm tired. I know how to hunt."

He sighed, and she opened her eyes carefully. "No," he said, "not out here. There's more dangers north of Grayling than you've known, and we're too close to the lake to stop." He looked tired, and his face was more gentle than she'd ever seen it before.

She pushed his arm off her shoulder, and scooted back. "I don't want you two fighting. If I caused it―"

He laughed meanly, and stood up. Lilian was standing further away, glaring at them both. "Learn to ignore it."

Celia sputtered. Every word that she heard only hurt her heart more. It was like she was stuck in between two boulders, grinding themselves together. "Then I'm not going to St. James, at all," she said, flatly. She pushed away all the hurt and locked it up, inside her. Learn to ignore it, she thought. How stupid. ...I'm good at stupid.

"You'd rather go back and beat your head off the shack wall again?" he asked her, looking at her sharply. "Because I didn't find that amusing."

Celia sniffled and wiped her nose. "No," she said, wobbily. She'd had a panic attack when she tried to explain had had happened with Angus and Mayer, in Calhoun's office.

"Then get up, and let's go."

Obediently, she stood, and walked with him back to Lilian.