Calli paced the house in Megaton, restless and agitated.
"Aren't you done with those books yet?", she quarreled. Hawk sighed. It was the third time she had asked. He was getting aggravated.
"Almost. You could help, you know.", he pointed out.
She growled. "I always do them.", she grumped unreasonably, as that wasn't true. He ignored this.
Calli paced some more. "Come on, I wanna go", she whined.
Hawk looked up. "We don't have time to go right now. We haven't checked the business down at Tennpenny's in over a month and they were expecting us this afternoon", he said.
"So they can wait.", she growled.
"Enough!", he snapped. "We have obligations. We can go after Tenpenny's. We can't just take off whenever you feel like it."
"Of course we can", she yelled back. "You just don't want to! If you don't want to go, why don't you just get out?"
"Fine! I will!", he snarled. He slammed the books closed and grabbed his pack. Snapping it closed he pulled it on, adjusting the mini-gun.
"Where are you going?", Calli demanded.
"I don't know.", he snarled.
"Oh, come on… "Calli began. Hawk paused by the open door.
"Why don't you go kill someone? It'll make you feel better!", he snapped irritably and slammed the door behind him.
Calli stared, stunned, at the closed door. Her face paled. Was that really what he thought of her? But she had never killed anything that didn't pose a danger! She only killed to rid the wasteland of dangerous scum or in self- defense, didn't she? She had lost track of the body count long ago. Was this what she had become? Would it make her feel better to kill someone?
The wasteland was becoming more civilized. The towns had formed rudimentary governments and were forging laws and had officers to enforce them. The Rangers patrolled the wasteland between towns. Maybe someone like her didn't belong here anymore. Maybe she wasn't needed.
Calli wiped the tears from her eyes and stopped pacing, finding herself standing in front of her armor, hung neatly on its hook on the wall. She snatched it down and pulled it on, not bothering to take off the ratty old jumpsuit she had been wearing.
Calli took her pack from the shelf and checked the contents. Whatever she was, she couldn't just wait around here to see if Hawk would come back. She snapped her helmet in place. She would go by herself. He was still there, in the mountains, where she had left him. She just needed to be with him for a while today.
Feeling distraught and alone, Calli slammed the door on the way out. She didn't even notice the old man at the bottom of the path as she strode determinedly through the gate into the wasteland.
She strode through the land, aware of every small creature scuttling in the undergrowth, every insect. The wildness of the land swirled through her, but it didn't have its usual calming effect. She moved faster, trying to outrun her pain. She spotted the Mercs just as they spied her. They knew immediately who she was. They were coming for her! If she killed them, did that make her psychotic? Calli ran. A thought began to take shape in her mind, a plan to end this restless pain, one way or another.
Hawk opened the door to the house in Megaton.
"Calli?", he called. "Calli. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Calli?" Only silence greeted him. A quick search of the house told him she wasn't there. He went out to see where she had gone. Lucas was just passing the path.
"Hey, Lucas", Hawk called. "Have you seen Calli?"
"She left right after you did.", Lucas said.
"Damn!", Hawk exclaimed. "I let her get to me. I should have known she wouldn't rest until she got to him since this day is so special."
"Why is this day special?", Lucas asked.
"You remember, don't you? It was four years ago today that Calli pulled Jack from the Enclave garrison. That's why she was so agitated. She must have felt everyone's forgotten Jack and what he did for the wasteland.", Hawk said.
The old man frowned at him. "So she's alone out there, and in pain. I've known Calli a long time and nothing good ever comes of that.", he said.
"I know. I hope she doesn't do anything stupid.", Hawk said worriedly.
The dark man felt drawn to this place. It was always like this, the feeling of being drawn. The ramshackle building at least looked like a place to spend the night if nothing else. The storm had rolled in quickly. The rain and gusting wind slammed his dark, long duster around him and made him hold onto his old black Stetson to keep from losing it. The fury of the storm didn't keep him from approaching the building cautiously.
He slipped into the door and caught the sound of voices coming from the adjacent room. He crept quietly toward them.
"..on, man." A voice said. "Shoot her already."
"I'm trying. I can't get a good shot through this storm. It came up so fast! You know I'm only going to get one try. It's gotta be a head shot you know she always wears that armor. No 308 is gonna penetrate that at this distance."
The first voice broke in. "Maybe we should get closer then."
"Are you crazy?", the second voice said. "You know how many of us she's killed already? If she knows we're here we're dead meat! Now shut up and let me concentrate."
The stranger pulled his silenced .45 and leaned around the corner. Both men wore the emblem of the Merc mercenaries. He was pretty sure he knew who they intended to kill since he had caught her trail coming this way. She wasn't trying to hide her movements. He had seen they were tracking her but that hadn't been any of his business. She was always being hunted. But now he had been called here, and it was his business.
Scum of the wasteland, they would kill anyone or anything for a price. One bullet each was all he needed. He went to check the bodies and go through their pockets. He knew what he was looking for. There were a few caps, some ammo and a folded piece of paper on the largest man. He opened it and stood perusing it thoughtfully before refolding it and putting it in his duster.
Picking up the sniper rifle the man dropped he turned to the window the man had been aiming from. The soft flicker of firelight cut in and out through the murk of the wind and rain. Crouching he raised the rifle to his shoulder and peered through the scope. From this vantage point on the mountain he could see the open door of the large, intact building across the small valley. It was more interesting what he could see in the building.
A figure was sitting, highlighted by the flame of the open fire. He could barely make it out, fading in and out through the fury of the storm, but as long as he watched the figure didn't get up, didn't move out of the line of fire. If it hadn't been for the storm it would have been a clear shot. He stood up, took out a knife and cut the emblems from the mercenaries' armor. He was going to that building.
The dark stranger stood in the doorway and took in the room at a quick glance. The room was fairly large but there was little in it. An open doorway ran off the left while a closed door was in the right back corner. A mattress lay on the floor on the other side of the fire. It was covered with half of a large thermal blanket, the other half bunched along one side obviously for a covering. A chair on the other side of the fire held a neatly folded set of unique armor along with a knife, sidearm and rifle. A small radio in the corner was playing on the favored wasteland station.
A distinctive, easily recognizable helmet sat on the floor beside the chair. A grate over the fire held a pot emitting a quite delicious smell. Beside the fire directly in the line of sight of the open door was a bench. A travelling pack lay beside it. A small figure sat on the bench, stirring the pot. She didn't look up.
"Well, come on in, stranger. And close the door and lock it would you? It's blowing pretty hard out there. That storm sure came in fast. Would you like some stew? It's done now. I was just getting ready to eat. Here, have a seat.", she said, motioning to the empty spot beside her on the bench.
The stranger came in shrugging out of his wet duster. He hung it neatly over the back of the chair and removed his pistol belt with weapon, adding it to the stack on the chair. Even though he had stood by the chair with the weapons she had turned away from him to dig in her pack and pull out 2 bowls. She handed him one with a spoon, finally looking up at him.
She took in the tall, lank figure, dressed all in black, an old black Stetson shading his face from view. Her glance slid to the .45 lying on top of her weapons. She had never met him before but she knew who he was, knew his reputation, and she admired and respected him.
"Help yourself.", she said, motioning to the pot simmering over the fire. She pulled water, beers and nuka-colas from her pack. "What would you like?", she asked.
"I'll have a beer, please.", he replied, sitting down beside her. She smiled, handing him one and taking one for herself. They ate for a while in silence.
"Do you have a name, stranger?", she asked.
"I did once, a long time ago.", he answered simply.
He was studying the woman as they ate. She was small, with a short cap of silvery hair that glinted with the reds and oranges of the firelight. She seemed very young and very old at the same time. Her small heart shaped face and delicate hands bore no scars he could see. She wasn't wearing armor as the Mercs had assumed, but an old vault uniform. He had noticed the 101 on its back. There were no weapons on her or near at hand. A wasteland legend, this woman, what was she doing here, a perfect target for the Mercs if not for the freak storm?
The stranger put down his bowl and pulled the paper and emblems from his duster. He handed them to her.
"They were in that building on the mountain.", he said simply. She looked at them calmly, then reached out and took them.
"Thanks, I collect them.", she said, studying the paper. "I keep them in a notebook. Since Tennpenny died the original contract is void, but there seems to be a lot of people willing to pay to see me dead. I've divided the notebook into sections depending on who ordered the contract. Hmmm, this seems to be a new one. Guess I'll need a new divider." She folded the contract on her life and put it in her pocket before tossing the emblems into the fire.
"You're partner's not here?", he asked.
"No. We had a… disagreement.", she replied tightly. "I'm not sure where he went and I know he doesn't have any idea where I've gone."
"It was careless of you to leave the door open.", he chastised. She looked up at him.
"Was it?", she asked. Yes, was it, he wondered.
The woman was watching him. She moved in closer.
"May I remove your hat?", she asked softly.
"If you want. I'm not a pretty sight.", he replied.
"That would be a matter of opinion, wouldn't it?", she asked, reaching over to take his hat. She set it aside and turned to look at him. She reached up a hand. When he didn't pull back she lightly touched his face, tracing the scars with a gentle finger. Her hand cupped the side of his face where the skin was badly puckered.
"Fire?", she asked softly.
"I was caught with a flamer. My left side was badly burned." She nodded.
"I thought so", she murmured, leaning toward him.
It had to be her, but she looked so very young. He started to pull back slightly, suddenly unsure. Her storm grey eyes looked straight into his ice blue gaze. He quivered as he felt her looking at him, through him, as though she could see into his very depths, see his loneliness.
"Please don't.", she pleaded. " I need you."
He leaned forward, his mouth very close to her ear. "How old are you?", he asked.
"Older than you.", she said huskily and turned her head so her mouth met his. He groaned, pulling her close. She curled into him, her kiss hungry and passionate.
With a ripple of muscle he rose, easily lifting her light weight, and carried her to the mattress next to the fire. The wind howled and rain slammed the walls of the old building but inside the raging passion drowned out the fury of the storm.
The dark man held the tiny figure lightly, their mad desire sated for the moment. He got up to rummage in his jacket pocket, coming up with a pack of cigarettes. He lit one and held it out to her questioningly. She shook her head.
"I don't smoke.", she said. "I've never understood why anyone would."
"Really?", he inquired. "You do other drugs, don't do? Actually I've heard you're quite the addict. What's the difference?"
Calli laughed amusedly. "Yeah, I do drugs sometimes when I need them to give me an advantage. I don't get addicted though. I used to have to use a machine to remove the addictions but since the GECK they just wear off. Smoking's different. It decreases your wind and makes your heart work harder. It's a disadvantage, not a help. And it makes you smell bad, especially your breath and that makes it easier for predators to find you, especially Deathclaws. They've learned to associate cigarette smoke with human prey."
He looked at his fingers, then lifted them to sniff experimentally. "I guess I never thought of all that. Maybe I'll quit.", he said thoughtfully, taking a last long pull on the cigarette before tossing it into the fire.
He slid back onto the mattress and took her in his arms.
She smiled encouragingly as he stroked her gently.
"Go ahead.", she said. "See for yourself. You won't find a scar anywhere." He took her chin in his hand and looked deep into her eyes.
"I don't need to look", he said. "I can see your scars." She closed her eyes and held him to her for a long moment.
Calli traced the intricate pattern going up his arms and across his chest. "I like this. It's very interesting. I got a tattoo once. Jack and I were in Baton Rouge, and we were feeling, well, very safe. He knew of this artist, so we had them done. It was just for fun, you know? They were gone by morning. You should have seen the look on his face when he went to admire his tattoo and it wasn't there." She smiled softly at the reminiscence.
"By morning?", he queried.
"Not a trace left. Same as any wound." , she explained. "Even the ink was absorbed."
"Won't he mind? About this?", he asked, tightening his arm around her. She stroked the pattern on his chest.
"I don't think he would have. He never asked me, and I never asked him if he had anyone else when we weren't together. It doesn't matter now anyway, he's been dead for 4 years. I buried him in the wasteland the night I took him back from the Enclave.", she said sadly.
The wasteland had been lead to believe Jack was alive. He realized she must trust him completely to reveal to him this secret. He pulled the covers about them. Holding her close, he told her his name. She snuggled against him with a soft, contented sigh.
Calli stirred, mumbling under her breath, whimpering agitatedly. His arms tightened about her as he pulled her close so she could feel his strength, his nearness.
"It's all right. You're safe, Calli. I have you. I won't let the demons get you. Shhhh, go back to sleep. I won't leave you." He gently stroked her, holding her tight, whispering comfortingly to her. She stilled, her breathing become light and regular. It was a long time before he fell back asleep. He knew about nightmares. They couldn't do what they did without paying for it.
Calli stretched languidly, feeling the hard, scarred body of the man beside her. In the years since her husband's death she hadn't been with another man. This man was very good at whatever he did. She wanted to touch him again, to feel the strength and passion he had brought her during the night, but she felt it would be a bad idea. They couldn't afford to get too involved.
She slipped from the bed and went into the adjoining restroom. It was still functional, it was one of the reasons she had chosen this place for the test, the test to see if the wasteland still held onto her. She had left herself open. If the wasteland no longer needed her she would be dead now. Well, she wasn't dead. The wasteland had kept her safe from her enemies and brought her this man to comfort her.
She came from the restroom and smiled at the man on the bed. He was watching her, a slight smile on his scarred face. She dressed in her combat armor as he rose to take his turn in the restroom. By the time he came out she had breakfast going. They ate in silence, then cleaned up and put out the fire.
Calli shrugged into her pack and walked with the stranger to the door.
"Calli,", he began.
"It's all right.", she broke in. "There's more than one kind of need, Stranger. I needed you, and you came. I'll be all right now". She looked into his ice blue eyes, her storm grey roiling with her intensity and renewed verve. "You saved my life." In more ways than one went unspoken.
"Maybe we'll meet again someday.", he said. She flashed him a smile.
"Maybe.", she replied, and snapped her helmet into place to hide her from the world. They walked away from the building each going their own way in the brilliance of the morning sun. The dark storm had passed.