"Jesse!" Celia yelled, walking through the carefully tended rows of apple trees. "Jesse?"

"Shh!" came a voice from one of the trees. "Shush!"

"Jesse," she said, looking up at him in the tree. "You're supposed to be helping in the garden."

"Chick, I am a wild Injun," he said. She could see he'd painted himself up with mud, lines across his face, and was wearing shorts and a bandoleer. Dried out leaves were stuck into a band on his head. "Wild Injuns don't do no gardening."

She sighed, and turned away. "Okay," she said, sadly.

"Whoa, what?" He jumped down from the tree. "What's up?"

Since her discussion with him, and a talk with Amos about Wade, Jesse had been paying closer attention to her. She wasn't sure she liked his new, clingy attitude. Sometimes, though, it could be useful.

"Nothing," she said, and turned to go.

"S'not nothing," he said, and put a hand on her shoulder. "What's got you upset?"

"Nothing!" she said, heatedly, moving away from him.

He followed her up to the house, bugging her the whole way. When she reached the door, she said, "Sorry, Jesse."

"There you are!" Ma belted out, from the kitchen.

"Oh you rotten little rat fink bi―Owww!" Ma stomped out and grabbed him by an arm, twisting it.

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, Jesse Sellers Royce!" Ma said, angrily.

"I'll get you for this one, Celia!" he hollered, struggling against Ma. "You'll get a trick, too!"

"I'm rather partial to the one with sheep dung!" she called out after him, as Ma dragged him off. That incident had been when Jesse fouled up the hayloft with sheep dung, and earned himself a good upbraiding for ruining perfectly good hay.

She walked down to the gate, and along the fence. Amos had told her that morning to expect Cameron Landis to show up at some point, and she'd kept busy with work, trying not to think about it. She really didn't know how she felt.

Other than a traitor, turning on Jesse for Ma. Ma was highly amused by the way Jesse followed her around the farm. She likened him to a lost little lamb when Celia wasn't around. Celia was embarrassed by it. Jesse was younger than her, and quite often dumber than her. She didn't see why he liked her so much.

She wondered if she would see Lionel. He was supposed to have gone out and gotten the man. Celia missed him even more than usual, today, because she'd heard other people talking about him.

She hadn't meant to eavesdrop. She'd been hoeing the garden and Avery and Amos had come around the corner of the house, talking about him.

"Maybe we could just keep him around for scaring people," Avery said, laughing. "He ain't exactly a good talker."

"Well, I'm not gonna argue," Amos replied, "Lionel is scary enough without talk―" He stopped and smiled at Celia, who'd shook her head and gone back to hoeing.

Then they'd scuttled off into the house and she wondered why everyone was leery about talking about him around her. Jesse was the only one who talked about any ghoul in front of her, and it was usually a horror story where he shot one or two feral ghouls. She didn't like to listen to those stories.

She sat down outside the fence and kicked at the ground, before curling her legs underneath her. Ma had made her put on a dress after hoeing the garden. She didn't like it.

The sounds of Gladstone drifted across the air to her, bringing the soft grunting of the Delaines, an inconsistent humming, and the grinding of the mill. She closed her eyes and leaned back on the fence post. It was very warm. She dozed off.

Then it was cold―so cold! Suddenly she was wet and freezing, and Jesse was banging two pails together over her head. She shrieked and stood up.

"Trick for trick, chick!" he yelled, and laughed a whoop across the yard, running away.

Amos hollered out from behind her, made her jump. "JESSE!" He vaulted the fence and took off running, a lot faster than she expected he could run. She watched, somewhat amused but mostly annoyed. She squeezed some of the water out of her hair, muttering. Now she was a wet mess of pink cotton and dripping hair.

"Celia?" a voice came from behind her. She turned and froze, then slowly let go of her hair.

"You look just like Barbara," Cameron Landis said.

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. He looked older than she expected, but he was a wizened, browner, more broad version of Ed. Maybe that was the wasteland, she thought. All the sun.

"I am Cameron Landis," he said, holding a hand out. She took it, gingerly.

"I am Celia," she said.

He looked her over and released her hand. He looked out at the barn that Amos was standing near, audibly chastising Jesse for the prank. "You've come a long way," he said.

They walked along the fence for a few minutes, away from Amos and Jesse. She answered his questions about Ed and her mother as best she could, and told him about how Lionel had helped them get into the military base at Stockton.

"Adventurous," he said, when she told him about Sergeant Sawyer.

"What's your story?" she asked.

He raised an eyebrow. "I couldn't come home," he said. "It was impossible."

"How come?"

Landis sighed. "Aside from the obvious mechanical issues that the Vault door was having, I got swept up by a bunch of soldiers and taken to Detroit." He cracked a knuckle. "I spent a long time down there. Years. When I came back, my Pip-Boy was gone, and the Vault wouldn't have recognized me." He shrugged. "I didn't want to give up, but―well, you've been out there. The world will eat you alive, if you aren't careful."

Celia didn't tell him about the missing Vault dwellers. She didn't want to have to admit to him that she'd been responsible for her brother being kidnapped. "What do we do, now?" she asked, mostly to fill the silence.

"I can't take you with me, Celia," he said. "You're too damn pretty for where I have to go."

She nodded, relieved. "That's okay. I have a nice home here."

"You're a good girl," he said, and touched her wet hair. "Stay that way."

She laughed a little, nervously. "I'll try."

Landis fixed a hard stare on her and looked back up to the farm. "You tell them Royce boys that I ain't your dad, you hear?"

She started. "Why?"

"I don't know why they wanted me to take you off their hands so badly." He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, inhaling. "Maybe you're not so welcome as you think. Be careful with them."

Celia looked down and felt sick rise in her stomach. "I feel welcome, enough, I guess."

He shook his head. "People outside the Vault are always trying to get your caps, your body, or your soul," he muttered, angrily. "Which reminds me, why the hell were you traveling with that fucking rotgut ghoul?"

She stiffened. "I don't think I need to explain my actions to someone who isn't my father," she said, coldly, and strode away.