Three days and several miles later, Shiloh was dreaming.

The air tasted familiar. Vegetation and humid air, almost suffocating. She was high, involuntarily so. Only, something was different. She was...older. Instead of a ragged kid dressed in too-big leather armor, she was her current self.

Slowly, she trudged through the swampy waters, desperate to escape the foggy jungle. She avoided the bodies floating in the water, not stopping to identify them. Her stomach was in coils, fearful of the things she would see behind every corner.

Feral ghouls snarled in the air around her, disappearing before they could sink their teeth into her skin. As she looked somewhere, anywhere, for a weapon, she found him. Jericho sat propped against a boulder, a long, rotting radscorpion tail sticking out of his chest. He was still breathing, clinging desperately to life as the poison and trauma made his chest muscles clench in pain. She tried talking to him, asking about the injury and what she could do, but all he could make was wet breathing noises. He looked at her, old eyes marked with wrinkles and bloodshot from the venom. As she had in life, Shiloh stood and left him, trying not to look back. If she had a weapon she would have just put him out of his misery.

Then she came upon an odd scene. Remnants of a building and a bar stood out of the swampy waters. The concrete walls made a corner and in it stood the bodyguard Charon. He stood with his arms crossed and everytime she tried to speak he would reply with a firm "No." She tried to explain to him, desperate for him to understand that she couldn't afford his contract, she couldn't kill an innocent person just to free him. She blinked away tears. In all ways but name he was a slave and he was the only one she'd ever met that she couldn't free.

Dogmeat's bark made her jump. She chased him, barely noticing that he was see-through. When she tried to hold him, tried to pet him, he turned to dust. Just like he had under laser fire. She watched the dust fall through her fingers and let out a sob. Snapping up her head, she was faced with the mighty super mutant Fawkes. A friend, a true friend who made her smile and laugh when she thought the wasteland made her forget.

But Fawkes wasn't a friend here. She dodged a mighty sledgehammer blow, letting him slam the weapon down violently into the water. She yelped when he nearly caught her. Only by luck was she able to avoid his grasp. She ran, boots sinking into the mud beneath the water as she heard Fawkes scream behind her: "You let me die by Enclave fire, girl!"

No, no no no. She didn't mean to. There were too many of them. The Enclave soldiers had power armor. She thought his minigun would protect him. But he was no match for ten soldiers with gamma guns. As she ran, the jungle changed and vegetation grew around her. She suddenly came to a halt when the vines revealed Star Paladin Cross wearing her prized power armor. Only it was dented and scratched. Every part of the skin she could see was marred. Her face barely clung to her skull. Shiloh's eyes widened in horror, unable to speak. Through broken teeth and torn lips, the woman that had helped her father across the wasteland spoke: "Beware of deathclaws."

A growl behind her made a shiver run up her spine. She didn't even turn to look. Desperately, she began tearing at the vines for a path as the footsteps came closer. The deathclaw behind her snorted, growling low in its throat. With blunt nails, she managed to tear through the vines and scramble down the bog.

She couldn't tell if the sound in her ears was drums or her own heartbeat, but it was loud as she tripped and fell into the water. Mud splashed on her face as she braced for the beast's claws in her back. They didn't come, but she looked up to see the alter her mother's skeleton was perched upon. A vision that haunted her for years and years. The balloon floating from it mocked her with its brightness. The messages weren't there, but she could hear it clear in her mind. Blech. If my kid looked like that, I'd abandon it too.

Unable to control her fear at the vision before her, Shiloh clutched her head and screamed, trembling violently. The voice still mocked her. Dead mother, life in a post-nuclear Wasteland and not a friend in it. Yeah, you aren't exactly blessed. She felt the scar across her skull beneath her fingers with its dirty stitches and was suddenly unable to breathe.

-0-

She groaned, a heavy feeling in her head different from the phantom stitches in her skull. Her eyes were closed, but her lips moved as she whispered to herself. "Forget Lookout Point. Forget the Sacred Bog. None of it was real."

She moved to touch her hair, but her arm was pinned down by heavy rocks. Confused, she opened her eyes and saw nothing but concrete above her. Sunlight peered through the cracks. Blinking, she tried to sit up, shifting the material around her.

She was under a collapsed building. The memory came back to her. She had been hunting around super mutant hives for Moira's new book. The crazed woman wanted to know more about their society. Not a particularly difficult job for one who was sneaky enough.

Shiloh was not sneaky enough. Not clearly thinking, one super mutant in the group activated a mini nuke in his hand as soon as she shot down his comrades. He didn't get very far. She was sure he meant to chase her out into the open, but one crack shot directly at the nuke blew him up and sent the building collapsing on top of her.

She tried not to breathe too much, not wanting to cough up dust for the next week. She wiggled all her fingers and toes and rolled her shoulders. So nothing was broken and she wasn't paralyzed. She had quite a few scrapes and bruises and she was sure her bullet wound stitches were torn open, but she was more or less fine.

Shiloh dug herself out of the rubble, searching for her gun and bag. She remembered Vault 101's lessons about the S.P.E.C.I.A.L. system and decided that all of her points must have been dumped into Luck.

With her bearings gathered, she made her way across the shaky concrete until she found the road again. It was still afternoon and eerily quiet.

She popped her back and stretched her arms, checking her ammo supplies. She'd prepared well beforehand in the little time she had between leaving Maxson and deciding to run away like the emotional coward she was.

She frowned. Physical affection wasn't particularly easy for her either, but she found herself so happy and intoxicated with Maxson. And he clearly wanted her just as much. But afterwards she felt an air of words unspoken and the idea scared her. She didn't know if he was preparing to tell her that he wanted a relationship with her or if he was preparing to tell her that they couldn't be together because she wouldn't fit with the Elder's expectations. Worse, what if he asked her to be his concubine? She'd heard of Elders having them when they were tired of their wives or just not interested in marrying the particular woman. She didn't think Arthur would be the type…

Ok, Shiloh. Slow the fuck down. She groaned, running her hands through her hair in frustration. Part of her, the logical part, knew she should just sit down with him and talk about it. But the bigger, louder, stubborn part of her said to hell with that and kept her running.

She'd been so preoccupied with hovering around super mutant nests and avoiding her feelings, that a sudden realization hit her like a ton of bricks.

The trial.

Shit.

Ripson and the others involved with the Institute were scheduled to be tried the day she left. She'd been actively avoiding it entirely. When asked, she refused to be a witness and just wrote her testimony down. She and everyone else knew that it was all a formality. The crime of treason would end in a swift execution and Maxson wasn't the type to spare someone who betrayed him.

Instead of going further like she'd intended, Shiloh sat down on the cracked road, frustrated and sighing. She suddenly felt immensely lonely. She couldn't talk to anyone about this. Everyone she had a close enough relationship with was either inside the Brotherhood or disliked it. She couldn't imagine telling MacCready about her relationship with Maxson.

She needed to get her shit straight. No stubbornness, it's all got to be out in the open. She unzipped her bag, sipping at a purified water as she squinted up at the sky. I want to be in a relationship with Maxson.

There. She said it. Er, thought it.

Nothing more complicated than that. That's what she genuinely wanted. She liked him. She liked him a lot.

Shiloh groaned, rubbing her face in her hands despite how dirty they were. She loved him.

Finishing the water and standing, she reloaded her modified laser rifle and turned back towards the Citadel. There was a super mutant hive on the way and she could make it back within a day if she kept pace.

-0-

A day and three hours later and Shiloh was back to a familiar position. She was perched on a destroyed concrete porch overlooking the super mutants. With handwriting she would have to fix later, she scribbled down notes on their behavior patterns. She didn't know why Moira was so interested. There wasn't much to them. They didn't breed or form emotional bonds. All they did was hoard and kill. Boring.

She quickly put away her notepad when a chunk of concrete fell off the porch from her weight. It caught the super mutant's attention and, by the time he got close enough to investigate, she had her laser rifle ready and popped a shot right into his eye.

The super mutant shrieked before it collapsed, alerting the whole group. Another one roared and Shiloh braced, but the sound was drowned out by the engines of a vertibird in front of the crumbled building.

Shiloh hopped off the balcony, narrowly escaping the path of the super mutant as she ran around the side of the building. She ducked behind the wall, knocking down the super mutants one by one with precise shots as the vertibird landed and unloaded. She took a moment to peek around the wall in confusion.

Another vertibird landed next to the first one as a group of soldiers in power armor poured out and began firing immediately upon the super mutant hive. Just as Shiloh made her way to notify them of her presence, she felt meaty hands grab her. Before she knew it, she was held up 7 feet in the air, kicking her legs violently.

The super mutant holding her cackled as it tugged her backpack off and tossed it aside. Her hands held as tight as they could, but it easily ripped her rifle away too. It scoffed at the weapon. She struggled in its grasp as it walked with her to the front of the assault, where the Brotherhood soldiers were meeting the super mutants. Most if not all of its comrades were mowed down by the superior weapons. Avoiding direct fire, the super mutant took a route around the side of the building to carry her off to where less soldiers stood. It was effectively using her as a meat shield.

She took an opportunity when the super mutant was distracted to pull her arm free and plunge the knife from her boot into the super mutants neck. It gargled and screamed, dropping her immediately. She coughed with the impact, but made it to her feet to get a running start.

The broken stitches in her leg were making it more difficult to run and she was reduced to limping through the excruciating pain. She tripped across broken concrete, stumbling but running for her life. She yelped when the super mutant picked up a hunting rifle and popped a shot at her. She felt the bullet graze her side, tearing the skin under her shirt. She cursed, wondering why she chose not to wear the heavy armor on her 's not easy to sneak in, she reasoned to herself as she collapsed onto the ground. Crawling as fast as she could manage with her bleeding leg and side, she clawed at the dirt when the super mutant came behind her and grabbed her leg. She yelled, making it as hard as possible to drag her back.

She closed her eyes, preparing to be shot in the head or dragged off to be a meat shield again, but a shot rang out. The super mutant collapsed behind her, the knife still sticking out of its neck. Glancing quickly at the dead abomination, she continued her crawl.

Apparently she'd run pretty far. She was positioned on the front lines now, to her luck. Struggling through the pain, she looked up to see a pair of soldiers in power armor. The one on the left was reloading his gun, having just shot the super mutant down. Her attention focused on the one on the right. His armor was dark, almost black. Elder armor. She blinked in surprise. Maxson in the field?

A woman in fatigues came to her side, telling her to hold still. She ignored her, trying to struggle to her feet, but as soon as she stood, she slumped over. The woman caught her and another man came over to help. The blood was soaking through her shirt and her vision became blurry as she looked to the woman holding her up.

She put a hand on the woman's shoulder, barely noticing that it was covered in blood. "It's not safe for the Elder to be out here," she muttered.

The woman stared at her, wide-eyed, "Th-the Elder is very capable, ma'am."

She didn't understand. Shiloh was a bad omen in the field. It was bad enough she had to be with others in the Commonwealth. Rhys had barely survived their partnership. She remembered her dream, remembered all those who died when they tried to work with her. She struggled to slur again, "It's not safe. For any of you." With a ringing in her ears, she felt her weight overwhelm her and she couldn't hold on. She was tired. Everything went black.

She didn't dream this time.

-0-

With a dose of super stimpaks, stitches healed much faster. That's why, when Shiloh woke up from the blood-loss coma a week later, her side was almost fully healed. She frowned, knowing immediately they used super stimpaks on her. Those were neither cheap nor plentiful and shouldn't have been used on her. She was fine with regular stitches and healing, even if she broke her previous ones.

Her tired back popped as she sat up, dressed in only a tank top and her underwear. When she was able to stand, she began rummaging through the drawers by the bed for a pair of pants. She slid them up her legs as a scribe came through the door.

The old woman frowned, shaking her head at her patient's stubbornness. Shiloh frowned right back. She wanted a bed, not some cold medical room with people watching her. Instead of lecturing her, the old woman handed her a pair of combat boots and a hooded jacket to wrap up in. Shiloh nodded in thanks, "I'm just going to my bedroom. I won't exert myself."

"Sure, dear," the scribe seemed to believe her, but was still none too happy she couldn't monitor her in a medical environment.

She weakly made her way to the officer's quarters. It was getting chilly outside, the temperature making her toes ache in her boots. Luckily, she was able to walk on her healed leg and her side looked fine save for an ugly scar. The bullet had apparently torn the skin, but didn't take a chunk out of it like a laser weapon would have.

She was so tired. Emotionally, physically, mentally. If things were easier and she was bolder, she might have knocked on the Elder's door. But she didn't. She couldn't just put her heart on the line like that when she didn't know what he pictured their future to be.

And there was the very likely fact that he was angry with her. She'd bailed without saying a word and got herself into a world of hurt. Yeah, make that a guarantee he was mad. She'd never faced his wrath personally before, but she'd heard about his temper when he was pushed to the edge. She couldn't handle that right now.

She found her room, pushing open the door with the key from her muddy backpack the scribe had returned to her. There was nothing personal inside the small room, but it was warm and the blankets were thick. Not taking off her pants and hoodie, she slipped under the covers. She tried not to think about the nervous looks the other soldiers gave her as she slept the day away in warmth.