It had turned out that there was nothing that needed to be done around town, so John had spent the afternoon in Moriarty's, killing a bottle of whiskey with Jericho, his fellow retiree. While the old raider wasn't exactly an agreeable person, John had learned a lot about surviving the Wastes from him in his first weeks out of 101. For that, he would be eternally in his debt. And with John's idealism stripped away and replaced with a distinct brand of jadedness, Jericho found John a much more tolerable person to be around. The two of them would occasionally accompany a caravan to Rivet City, more for something to do and a change of scenery from Moriarty's than anything else. That had stopped a couple months back, though, after the two of them had gotten into a brawl at the Muddy Rudder. Wasteland Messiah or not, Rivet City security had objected to that, particularly when they found out that one of the men injured in the fight was a Brotherhood Knight drinking in his off-duty hours. Rivet City's economy was booming, largely driven by Brotherhood members coming there in their off-duty hours to drink, shop, and generally blow off steam. The one thing that had kept John out of the ship's brig that time was the fact that he had been coming to Jericho's defense. John had been occupied, busily bouncing someone's head off a table when the Brotherhood member intervened; trying to break up the fight, according to him. John had turned to see the Brotherhood member, back turned to him, holding Jericho in a chokehold. John had moved in, hitting the man with a hook to the kidney; before turning the man by the shoulder and, taking a commanding grip on the back of his head, introducing the man's face to his good knee. To be frank, John was mildly disgusted when he had learned that the man was Brotherhood. He had gone down without a fight, and John was far removed from his best. He couldn't move very quickly anymore, on account of his knee being injured; and he was out of shape as well, getting winded alarmingly quickly. All he had going in his favor was the muscle memory, which hadn't completely faded, and his still considerable strength. He hadn't fought in months, and his movements had been awkward and rusty. John thought that mentally most of his opponents were beaten before the fight ever started, having spent years hearing stories of his fighting prowess on GNR. John had managed to get his nose broken in the dust up, flattening the bridge of his nose out a bit more. At least Doc Church had set it straight and it hadn't healed crooked. He was already pretty broken and well on the road to being run down; he didn't need to add ugly to the mix. The entire story had been repeated on GNR by Three Dog, albeit with certain details selectively excluded. Three Dog, ever the Brotherhood propagandist, had made John sound like an asshole that jumped a Brotherhood member. Thanks, Three Dog, he thought. So much for the Good Fight.
The men had spent the afternoon in their normal way, drinking silently while occasionally bullshitting about women they'd had and fights they'd been in. Gob was tending bar, and the ghoul made pleasant company as well, so the afternoon had been acceptable enough. John was pretty buzzed, but not to the point that he couldn't function. Pushing away from the bar, he wobbled to his feet and bid farewell to his drinking buddies as he stumbled to the door, his knee having gone stiff on him. Lucy would be getting off from her shift at the Brass Lantern soon and he figured he'd have something to eat while he waited. Staggering out into the bright afternoon sun, he was greeted by the sounds of commotion below. A woman's voice yelling. By the time his eyes adjusted to the light he realized the woman's voice was Lucy's. And she sounded irate. Looking over the railing of the walkway down toward the Brass Lantern, he saw a crowd forming around the crater as what appeared to be a drunk trader accosted her. He's being way too hands on, John thought as he moved as quickly as he could down the ramps to ground level. Why was no one intervening? As he came around the bomb in the center of town he heard a voice call out.
"Her boyfriend is going to kick your ass if you don't leave her alone!" A woman yelled. I'm not her boyfriend, he thought. The crowd parted as John approached, opening a path that let John see Lucy pushing the man away from her. Past her, he could see Lucas Simms hustling down the hill. The man turned to face John, eyes widening when he saw him. He recognized him.
"You're this little bitch's boyfriend?" he drunkenly slurred out. That word again. Can't a guy have a no-strings-attached physical relationship with a woman anymore? Before John could respond, the man drew a small, .38 revolver from the waistband of his pants and leveled it on him. He heard a collective gasp from the crowd, followed by the sound of people hurriedly getting out of the line of fire. Simms must have missed the gun when the man came into town. Shit. John was wearing a tan shirt and black pants, his standard style of clothing in retirement; but it offered absolutely no protection from gunfire of any type. His childhood BB gun would penetrate these clothes. If he died here he would have some very choice words for St. Peter, after his time in Purgatory was done. He could see Simms behind the man, wanting to make a move but forced to stand still, not willing to risk the chance of the man firing if Simms tried to tackle him. Looks like it's up to me, John thought. Let's see if this man bought in to the legend of the Lone Wanderer.
"A .38? Really? I destroyed the super-mutants, and you think that fucking peashooter will stop me? If you don't drop that gun in five seconds, I swear to God, I'll shove it so far up your ass the bullets will fire out of your mouth. Five…" John began counting. Lucy slipped away while the man was distracted by John. He could see doubt forming in the man's eyes as they flickered around the crowd. John's voice was still commanding when he wanted it to be; he could still present an imposing image to any would-be assailant. He was relying on every bit of psychology he knew right then in his bid to make the man back down. Shoulders square, arms crossed over his chest, feet shoulder width apart. His eyes were straight ahead, locked on to his target like a predator on its prey. At 6'1 and 195 pounds, John still had a size advantage on most people, and the shirt he was wearing did a passable job at disguising the fact that he was about 10 pounds over his fighting weight, as it were.
"Four…" The man began to lower the gun.
"Alright, Messiah," he said, practically spitting the word. "Let's do this like-" he didn't finish the sentence before Lucas tackled the man, hard, and jerked his arm up behind his back. The man yelped in pain. John presumed he was going to challenge him to an old fashioned fistfight. That could have been fun, he thought, watching Lucas zip tie the man's hands behind his back. Lucas looked up at John as he stood back up.
"Stick around, John. I want to talk to you after I put this piece of shit in lockup."
"I'll be here," John responded, watching Lucas violently jerk the man to his feet with some amusement.
"You fucking pussy!" The man yelled, as Lucas began to lead him away. "Both are you fucking - " the man continued, drawing a shot to the back of the head from Lucas. John could only sigh. Hopefully sobering up in the lockup would calm the man down. And dear God, don't let this little story make it to Three Dog, he thought. He wanted his name on the radio as much as he wanted a hole in the head.
He turned to find Lucy walking toward him as the crowd dissipated, going back to their lives. She looked slightly shaken, but otherwise fine. With as much as she had been through in her life, it was doubtful a drunk trader was going to leave an impact on her.
"You ok?" he asked as he leaned forward to give her a kiss. She pecked him on the lips before straightening up, her nose wrinkled a bit. She could taste, and smell, the liquor on him, doubtless. If she was bothered by it she did a good job of masking it.
"I'm fine," she replied. "Just need to finish up work," she continued as John took a seat along the outdoor bar, back turned to the bomb that Megaton was built around. He could hear Confessor Cromwell rambling in the background. As he sat Jenny Stahl, one of the owners of the place, looked up to Lucy.
"Don't worry about it, hon. You can knock off early today," she said. Lucy looked slightly grateful at that. She still seemed a bit rattled.
"Thanks, Jenny" she replied, sitting next to John along the bar and beginning to count out her tips. John looked at her, waiting until she was done counting to speak.
"You want something to eat?" he asked. She smiled at him and nodded, reaching over to grab his hand.
"Sure. Thanks for coming to my defense, John."
"I just couldn't believe no one had sooner," he replied, kissing her on the forehead before turning to Jenny, waiting behind the bar on them. "Jenny, get Lucy whatever she wants, and I'll have a Brahmin steak and a beer." Jenny nodded at him, looking over to Lucy.
"Noodles and a glass of water, please," she said. Jenny nodded at her as well before returning inside to get the food started. John looked back to Lucy once they were alone.
"How was your day, then?" he asked.
"Quiet until the end. Made 20 caps in tips, so not too bad a day. Am I sleeping over again tonight? I have off tomorrow, we can start the weekend early."
"Every day is the weekend when you're retired, dear. But that sounds good to me." She smiled at him. John was very torn about this entire relationship, truth be told. He liked Lucy, cared about her; but he didn't love her. And he didn't do relationships. The closest he had come was with Sarah Lyons. But even that hadn't been real. Might as well admit it, he thought. Three and a half years and he was still in love with Amata. He had been angry and hurt the last time he saw her, when she told him he had to leave the Vault again, this time for good. The years had passed, though, and those feelings had faded. He realized they didn't matter in the end. Amata had been doing what she felt was best for the Vault. And the traders he had seen from 101, namely Susie Mack, had told him that Amata missed him. Butch had confirmed it when they had last seen each other in Rivet City. Butch had spent time with Amata and the other traders from 101 when he had seen them there. John had left Butch with a message for Amata, should he see her again. He was still holding out hope that maybe their lives would overlap again. At the same time, he wasn't exactly waiting around, he thought, looking at Lucy. What could he say. He still had desires, and Lucy satisfied them extremely well.
"Want to just go back to your house after this, then? Listen to the radio or something?" she asked.
"That sounds good," he replied, noticing Lucas coming back down the hill. He stood up from his chair as the sheriff approached, extending his hand to shake John's before turning to Lucy.
"Did he hurt you at all, Ms. West?" She shook her head.
"No, I'm fine. Thanks for helping," she said, smiling faintly. Lucas turned back to John.
"Sorry about that business back there, John. He was wearing a duster when he came into town, and he seemed nice enough when he was sober." Lucas took John in as he spoke. He's drunk, he realized. Lucas felt something akin to pity in his heart. John behaved when he drank, so he never had cause to threaten him or put him in the lockup, and he was a good guy to have around town, always willing to lend a hand. And as a person Lucas liked him. He'd known the kid since he came stumbling out of the Vault. The town owed him big after he disarmed the bomb for good. Lucas didn't know what exactly had happened to make the kid step back from life, but he knew every man had their point. There had been that business with the Brotherhood as the war wound down. Lucas knew that John's old friend, the super-mutant, was heading to Megaton. Maybe that will lift the kid's spirits, he thought. Lucas had a lot more to do than babysit a scarred young man. He was sympathetic, but eventually enough was enough. Lucas had lost his wife and been forced to raise his boy by himself, but he didn't sit around getting drunk and abusing Med-X every day. The kid thought he was smart, shooting it where the track marks weren't visible; but Lucas knew how to tell the signs. It was his eyes that gave it away, early in the day. They couldn't stay still. Lucas figured he was injecting in the morning to deal with the pain in his knee. He and Doc Church had considered staging an intervention, but they weren't entirely sure they could restrain the kid if he got squirrely while he was getting clean.
"Thanks for helping out there, John. Don't know what he may have tried if I had gotten there before you."
"Probably nothing. He was drunk and belligerent, he would have backed off when he saw you. Only reason he drew on me was because I'm unarmed."
Why aren't you carrying?" Simms asked. "You know no one in town will complain if you do. You've been here long enough now." Lucas had been trying to make the kid feel like he belonged, hoping that it would help his mental state a bit.
"What's the point? I have you to protect me now," John replied, smiling. Simms rolled his eyes. The kid blew off every serious question with jokes.
"Someday I won't be. You take good care of yourself, John. Treat Ms. West here right," he said, tipping his hat before walking away. John looked back at Lucy. She was fighting back laughter.
"What's so funny?" he asked, sliding back into his seat as Jenny brought the food out.
"Just Lucas and his Wild West dream. Giving you a stern talking to…it was funny to watch, at least."
"Well, the man has a point," John began as he cut off a piece of steak. "I should treat you right…" he finished suggestively, before popping the steak into his mouth. Lucy laughed.
"Maybe you can try tonight. I am a shaken woman, after all. I need comfort," she replied, in a tone that was anything but shaken. She loved teasing him. Lucy didn't know what exactly it was they were doing, but she enjoyed having the living legend to herself. And he treated her well, so she was willing to overlook the other things, the alcohol and chems and the façade of detachment he put up about his old life. He was fooling no one with that. And who knows, Lucy thought. Maybe with enough time he'd get over the back-to-back let downs of his Vault girl and the Brotherhood woman and be willing to settle down. They could have a quiet, peaceful life here in town, or back in Arefu if they wanted. In her heart of hearts, she knew he'd never be satisfied with that, but she could fantasize. He raised his eyebrows at her, staring at her with eyes that were greener than anything she'd seen.
"I don't try, I just do," he responded, his tone thick with cockiness. Sometimes Lucy forgot that she was actually several years his senior; that underneath everything else he was still just a 22 year old, someone that should be looking forward to a whole life in front of them.
"Well then do it, Messiah." She looked ready to continue before Jenny Stahl cut her off.
"For Christ's sake, will you two get a room? This is a family establishment," she huffed, turning on her heel and stalking back inside. They both burst out laughing as soon as the door closed.
"Good job, Luce. You made Jenny blush," John said, calling her by his pet name for her as he killed the last of his beer.
"She'll live," Lucy responded, before sucking down the rest of her noodles. "Want to head back to your place?"
"Sounds good," John replied, turning to leave before freezing in his tracks. Lucas Simms was standing there, and next to him was a face John hadn't seen in years.
"Holy shit. You're back," John whispered, jaw agape. Lucas had a huge grin on his face, obviously pleased with his ability to surprise John.
"I am back, my old friend," Fawkes replied. They stared at each other for a moment before John started laughing and covered the short distance to embrace Fawkes. He was absolutely dwarfed by the mutant, but he didn't care. When they broke apart John wore a wide smile on his face.
"I missed you, you old bastard! How was it? How is the world?"
"Huge," Fawkes responded. "Do you have time to talk tonight?" John looked over to Lucy. Her face made it clear she knew what was coming.
"Go ahead, John. I'll see you when you get home tonight," she said. He kissed her quickly before turning back to Fawkes.
"How about we take a walk, Fawkes? Stretch our legs a bit?" John asked, noticing people beginning to stare at the mutant in the middle of their town.
"I've just walked across the continent twice, but as you say, my friend. Lead the way." John knew where to go.
"Lucas, I'll be back late tonight. Don't send out the search parties. The duo is reunited," he said, slapping Fawkes on the back. Lucas just laughed and nodded as the two turned and walked toward the gate. He looked over to Lucy, staring after them as they left.
"You really care about him, don't you, Ms. West?"
"I guess I do. And I think you may have just started the end of it." Lucas was taken aback by that.
"What does that mean, Ms. West?"
"Didn't you see how he looked when he saw Fawkes, sheriff? He hasn't had that look in his eyes since the war."
"That doesn't mean he's going to leave you, Lucy. Who knows, maybe we can even start to get him back on track between the group of us." Lucy just smiled sadly at that.
"I hope so, Lucas. But I doubt it," she replied as she turned to walk away.
Emily McPherson closed the book and put it down next to her. It had been an absorbing read, to say the least. The Capital Wasteland, as the authors referred to it, was utter chaos. It was the sort of place that needed an organization like the Followers. If the writings of Mr. Thompson and Ms. Brown were to be believed, the only organization enforcing any semblance of order was the Brotherhood of Steel, which was utterly unlike the Brotherhood she knew. Their whole purpose was to preserve and acquire pre-war technology, not help the average person. She hadn't known Owyn Lyons outside of his reputation, but she had heard her parents talking about him in the evening after sending her and Liam to bed. She remembered them talking about the disputes Lyons had found himself in with the Elders over their disregard for civilians in the pursuit of technology. If that was really what Lyons was like, he was the sort of man that she would have stayed in the Brotherhood to serve under. But none of the Elders in the West were like that.
Emily's mind was beginning to process all that she had read. If this book was even half true, then reporting it to her fellows took priority over her report on Mexico. She hoped that with some discussion she could persuade the Followers to approve an expedition to the D.C. ruins. She would lead it herself if they would let her. And maybe she would finally know what had become of her family, if her father and mother were still alive at all. She had spent 30 years wondering what had happened to them. The last communication the Brotherhood had received before she left had reported that the Brotherhood expedition had reached the D.C. ruins and discovered incredible pre-war technology in the ruins of the Pentagon. The only reported casualty had been Paladin Ishmael Ashur; so, at least as of 20 years ago, her parents had been alive. Emily leaned her head back and looked up at the sky. It was mid-afternoon in Shady Sands. Maybe she could catch the man she wanted to talk to at dinner this evening back at the Followers headquarters. She stood up and, dusting herself off, began walking back down the street. The occasional bus or truck rumbled by on the street, but most people, even in Shady Sands, continued to travel on foot around the city. She made the short walk back to the Followers building even more quickly than normal, anxious to talk to Dr. Parker about what she had read. Dr. Daniel Parker was one of the most respected members of the Followers of the Apocalypse. He was an older man, in his 50s, and an absolutely brilliant mind. He had been Emily's mentor when she joined the organization all those years ago, and had taught her some of the finer points of his field of expertise, medicine. While Emily would never be as gifted a surgeon as him, she did have enough functional knowledge to treat people thanks to him. And outside of his technical expertise, Dr. Parker was respected for his wisdom; for his insights into the problems of both the NCR and the larger world.
Emily found Dr. Parker in the cafeteria of the Follower's building, surrounded by a group of younger men and women. They'll be the newest group to catch his attention, she thought. Dr. Parker was in the habit of finding the most promising minds amongst the newest members of the Followers and fostering their development. He smiled when he was her approach.
"Emily! Come sit, join us!" he was always happy to see her. She had been one of his favorite protégés, and he was proud to see how she had developed.
"Thank you, Daniel," she replied, smiling at him and nodding at his group of mentees.
"Emily just returned from a research expedition to the Mexican side of the old world border," Parker began, addressing his group. "Emily, have you been able to begin your report? Can you share what you found there?"
"It was quite interesting, Daniel," she began. "But I actually wish to talk to you about something else," she continued, holding up the copy of the Wasteland Survival Guide she had bought from Ms. Cassidy.
"And what is that, Emily?"
"A book I bought from a trader today. It was written about the Washington, D.C. ruins. I think you should read it," she said, passing the book to him. He took it from her hands and glanced at it before setting it on the table.
"And what will I find in it?"
"A place that needs the Followers. The D.C. ruins are in total chaos, according to this book. Aside from adding to our knowledge of the post-war world and societies that have developed…I think we should send an expedition east." Parker gaped at that.
"East? To Washington? My dear, do you have any idea how long of a trek that is? How dangerous? We aren't the Brotherhood, we don't have near the equipment or weapons needed for that sort of trip."
"Please, just talk to the others about it. That's all I ask," she replied.
"Emily, how much of this is about helping others, and how much is about your past?" he asked, forgetting the group that didn't know her around them. She gave him a look and he quickly realized his mistake. Her past in the Brotherhood was not something she wanted being common knowledge. "I'll take it to them, though. At the least, we will read it. I can't promise any more than that, Emily."
"That's all I ask," she replied, turning back to the rest of the group. The atmosphere relaxed and they returned to their previous discussion. Emily pretended to be listening, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She couldn't stop thinking about what the book had described. She knew that she had to go, with or without the Followers approval.