Hello everyone! Yes, I am still alive, and this story is still ongoing. A combination of real life getting in the way coupled with this chapter being a pain to write are the reasons for the long layoff. Just as a heads up, there is little action in this chapter. It expands on both Arcade's and Christina's backstories. It also is the first chapter since chapter two in which Mark does not make an actual appearance. He'll be referenced in a flashback, but that's it. Enjoy, and reviews are always welcomed and appreciated.
Christina was in her bedroom, laying on her bed. The room didn't really look any different than when she had first gotten there. There had been a large crate that had been filled with weapons, or so she was told, but it had been promptly removed and taken elsewhere. She didn't have many personal effects aside from a few small trinkets and a couple of books.
She had left her civilian clothing in her locker at McCarran in an attempt to give the NCR the impression that she was still there to delay any search for her off-base. All of the clothes that she now had were either from Vault 21 or taken from the clothing stores downstairs. She was amazed at all of the colors and styles available, and now had a wide selection of clothing to choose from.
She had no idea if her diversion had been successful, as she didn't know when the NCR had officially declared her a deserter. All of her other worldly possessions were back at her home in Shady Sands. No, scratch that, her former home. It, and anything inside, had probably already been seized by the NCR government by now. Since Amata had duped the NCR and made her a citizen of New Vegas, that was the only recourse they could take against her.
She had initially felt sad about the likely loss of her home, but then realized that without Esteban to share it with, it was just a house, not a home. There was nothing really personal left in there anyway. Not that she was planning to go back to the NCR anytime soon. She was perfectly safe and happy where she was.
She turned her head and looked over to her nightstand. On it was a framed picture of her and Esteban, both in full military uniform. The picture had been taken back in Shady Sands right before they had both been shipped out. Draped over the top left corner was the chain on which hung Esteban's dog tags. Not for the first time since he died, tears came to her eyes as she thought about him. She remembered how they first met.
Christina Annalise Freeman was born on February 3rd, 2252 in Shady Sands, the only child of Aaron Michael Freeman and Bridget Marie Freeman nee Emerson, both of them an only child. Both sets of grandparents had passed before she was born. She was supposed to have a younger brother as well, but he was stillborn, and after that her mother was too distraught over losing him that she didn't want to try and have another kid. That had happened when she was about three years old, so she only had vague memories of it. She had always wondered what it would have been like to have a younger sibling, like some of the other kids in town did.
The Freeman family lineage could be traced back to the emergence of the vault dwellers from Vault 15 and the subsequent founding of Shady Sands. They had been one of the very few families that still could have made that claim. Some of the original families had been wiped out through various means, or their descendants decided to live elsewhere. With her being the last Freeman, another founding family was effectively gone.
You would think that being one of the founding families would give them a degree of importance, but you would be wrong. It hadn't always been that way, however. Her ancestors, for whatever reason, had decided to become farmers to help supply the fledgling town that would eventually become the seat of government for the NCR with food. As it was the only farm in town, the head of the family was given a seat on the first town council, helping to make decisions that would shape the town's future.
As time went on, however, the town grew, and so did its needs. The food had initially been given to the town and its citizens for free to help get it started. Once the town became stable, however, and trade with other settlements became commonplace, they started charging the town for the food. The prices weren't exorbitant, just enough to make a profit. Eventually, other people started their own farms, hoping to make some money as well.
This diluted her ancestor's power, but they had retained their seat. However, sometime later they were eventually removed from the town council. The council records that she studied did not give a clear reason as to why they were removed. When she asked her father about it, he told her that he couldn't exactly remember the tale that had been passed down, only that it had to do with a boundary dispute that led to someone getting killed.
Eventually, financial mismanagement forced them to sell their farm to one of their competitors. Then, in an ironic twist of fate, they ended up as employees on the farm that they once owned. Since then, every member of her family had been farmers, and married other farmers. There wasn't exactly a rule in their family about what they could be or who they could marry; it was more of a tradition than anything else.
Her childhood was fine. She had loving parents and a few friends, and the city was safe, being the capital and all. Once she turned sixteen, as was the law, she could start working, so she started to work on the farm with her parents. She didn't really have any other skills. There were…seedier…options she could have looked to for work, but she had no desire to join the world's oldest profession. While it was technically illegal, she had heard rumors about places that offered said services, and that cops would often look the other way.
So, for the next seven years, she worked side-by-side with her parents on the farm. When she turned twenty-three, tragedy struck. There was a bar in town, the Rawhide Saloon. It used to be just outside the city, but as it expanded, the bar was incorporated into the city proper. It was the only bar allowed to operate in the city, so naturally it drew a lot of business from the locals and travelers alike.
Her parents were no exception, as they frequented the bar often, usually after they were done working for the day. One night, as they were heading inside the bar, a fight broke out just outside, one that they got caught up in. It was a big one, and when the smoke cleared, a few people died, including her mother. She had taken a knife to the gut and bled out, despite her father's best efforts to save her.
Her father had escaped with only a few scratches, but the mental wounds were much worse. The police couldn't determine who had stabbed her, so they would not be getting any justice. She had cried for days, while her father barely said anything, seemingly only going through the motions. After they buried her, they tried to go on as best as they could. She tried her best to fill in for her mother, cooking meals and cleaning the house in addition to working her regular job. She didn't even have anyone else to talk to about it, as she had drifted apart from her childhood friends.
Losing his wife had broken something in her father. He spent more and more time at the bar, drowning his sorrows, sometimes staying there all night. This led to him missing work frequently, and if he did show up, he was late and hungover. She tried her best to get him up on time, but he wouldn't listen. This all came to a head when, after one too many accidents on the job, he got fired. Their employers had been a bit lenient with him after his wife's death, but the last accident almost got someone killed, so they had no choice but to let him go.
This left her as the sole provider for her and her father. She reasoned with herself that they would be alright, as they did not have to pay any rent or anything on the house, a perk of being descended from one of the original families. Oh, how wrong she was. The result of her father being unemployed was that now he was able to spend all day and night in the bar, blowing through their savings. He also got arrested multiple times for drunk and disorderly conduct, so she would have to pay his bail and drag him home.
She tried to convince him to quit drinking and to find a new job, but it all fell on deaf ears, no matter how many times she tried. He never hit her when he was drunk, but when he was able to stay awake, he did yell at her, and occasionally mistook her for her mother. As a last-ditch effort, she went to the bar one day while he was passed out at home and asked the bartender, who was also the owner, to stop serving her father.
He refused. She started begging and pleading, becoming more hysterical as she did. Eventually, he had security toss her out. The security guard grabbed shoved her out into the street. She tripped on the pavement, her body twisting in a way so that she landed on her back instead of her face. She just laid there, tears leaking out of her closed eyes, trying to come to terms with the fact that her father was probably going to drink himself to death.
That was when she heard a man speak to her. "Are you okay, miss?" She opened her eyes and saw the upside-down face of the most handsome man that she had ever seen. He was Hispanic, with short brown hair and brown eyes. He was wearing a farmhand outfit, so he must've been a worker on one of the local farms.
She rolled over onto her front and got to her knees. He then extended a hand to her and helped her to her feet. His hand felt rough in hers, and his touch sent a pleasurable feeling through her body. The look on his face showed that he felt the same thing, although that could have been wishful thinking on her part. Once she was back on her feet, he let go of her hand, with her internally bemoaning the loss of contact.
She had never believed in love at first sight, but she was quickly starting to rethink that. He asked her again if she was alright. She blushed. She had gotten so caught up in the moment that she forgot to answer him. She wiped away her tears and dusted herself off. "Uh, yeah, yeah, I'm fine, thank you," she answered.
He continued to look at her in concern. "Are you sure? You took a pretty hard fall, and it looks like you've been crying." She nodded quickly. "Yes, I'm fine," she said, finding his voice soothing. "That's good. I'm Esteban Morales, by the way," he said. "Christina Freeman," she replied. He smiled at her, grabbed her right hand, and kissed the back of it. Her face went red. "A beautiful name for a beautiful lady." Her face went even more red if that was even possible.
"If I might be so forward, would you care to take a walk with me?" She smiled shyly and looked down. "I-I'd love that, Esteban," she said softly. As it was her day off, she didn't have anywhere else to be. They just walked around the city with no particular destination in mind. As they did, they got to talking. He was a year older than her. He was originally from the Hub but drifted from place to place for the past few years, doing whatever work he could find to earn a living.
His parents were still alive, but he never really got along with them. After saving some caps, he decided to set out on his own, wanting to see the rest of the world. He had recently come into the area, getting work on a different farm than hers, staying in the employee barracks.
He told her about her life, including the loss of her mother and all of the drama with her father. Talking about it with someone seemed to be cathartic, as she felt a bit lighter after she did. Esteban listened attentively, offering her his condolences on the loss of her mother. He even treated her to lunch at a nearby restaurant. Eventually, they ended up at her house. She wanted to invite him in but wasn't sure if her father was home or at the bar, and she didn't want Esteban to meet him. It was her burden to bear.
They made plans to meet again, and right before he left, he kissed her hand again. As he walked away, she couldn't help but smile, feeling happy for the first time since her mother died. That was the beginning of a whirlwind romance. This wasn't her first attempt at dating. She had gone on a few dates before, but they didn't go anywhere, mainly because they were assholes who only wanted to get in her pants.
Esteban, however, treated her like she was a princess. She had always considered herself plain looking, but whenever they were out in public, he only had eyes for her. When she was with him, all her problems seemed to disappear, even if it was only for a short time.
She did her best to keep Esteban from meeting her father, often making plans to meet in the town square, and would only invite him into her house when she knew her father was at the bar. However, he was insistent that he should meet his girlfriend's father. That meeting did not go great, to put it mildly, as her father was drunk at the time. He accused her of sleeping around, which led to Esteban knocking him out with a punch to the face. She made Esteban leave after that. When her father came to, she had convinced him that he got in a bar fight and she had carried him home. He had no recollection of Esteban.
About a month later, her worst fears came to pass. The police came to her house in the middle of the night to inform her that her father had passed away at the bar. It was thought that he had just passed out, but when they tried to wake him, they found he had no pulse. When Esteban had heard what happened, he found her as fast as he could. He just held her, allowing her to cry her heart out.
They buried him next to his wife in a small ceremony, consisting of her, Esteban, and a couple of her father's old friends. She said a few words, choosing to remember him as the man he had been before his wife passed, not the man that he had become, and hoping that he and her mother were reunited in the next life. Afterwards, she asked Esteban to move in with her, not wanting to live in that house alone. He happily accepted.
Time went on, and eventually Christina was able to think of her father without breaking down in tears. Living with Esteban was wonderful. She had never met a man so caring and compassionate before, and she knew without a doubt that she wanted to be with him for the rest of her life. Living with him gave her a preview of what married life could be like.
The night he proposed, he had cooked her favorite foods (he turned out to be a rather good cook; he said he had picked the skill up over the years). While they were eating, when she looked up from her plate, she no longer saw him across from her, but down on one knee to her right. He held a simple silver ring in his fingers. Her eyes widened in shock, and her breath hitched in her throat.
It was then that he proclaimed his undying love for her and asked for her hand in marriage. She was so choked up that she could only nod her head in acceptance. A few days later they had a small ceremony officiated by a local priest, and that night they became one for the first time. A few weeks later, they had been walking through town when they came across a recruiting event for the NCR military.
The NCR and Legion had been locked in conflict for quite some time, with much of the action taking place in the Mojave. They had heard news reports about the conflict, about the Legion's brutality and the rising death counts. A couple days later Esteban had brought up the possibility of him joining the military. She was adamantly against it, wondering why he was even considering such a thing.
He tried to sell it to her that it was better pay than being a farmer, and that he would be doing his part to help make the world safer for any children that they had, a topic that they previously discussed (Christina said that she wanted a large family, something that Esteban was not against). They had argued and ended up not speaking to one another for about a day. It was in this time that an idea came to her. She had initially dismissed it, but it wouldn't leave her alone.
What if they both joined? She had no idea where that thought came from. She wasn't really a fighter, preferring to avoid conflict if she could help it. She floated the idea to Esteban, who tried to convince her otherwise. She would not budge, however, as the thought took hold. If he was going to risk his life trying to make the world a better place, then so was she, goddammit. She didn't want to sit around the house worrying about him, wondering if the next knock on the door was someone coming to tell her that he had died.
Eventually, he relented. The next day, the both of them quit their farm jobs and went down to a recruiting office to sign up. A few days after that, they reported to the local military training center and underwent two weeks of basic training. While she barely made it out of basic, Esteban excelled, which did not go unnoticed by the higher-ups.
After basic ended, they were given their orders: In one week, they were both getting shipped out to the Mojave, more specifically Camp McCarran (the NCR had rules about keeping married soldiers together). From what Esteban told her, the higher-ups had told him that he had promise and could rise through the ranks quickly. That's why they posted him at McCarran, as that was where their most elite units were stationed.
She was thankful that that was where they were stationed. They were far from the front lines, inside a walled complex crawling with some of the NCR's most elite troops. She didn't even care that she was only stationed there because of Esteban. While she was in basic, she had heard stories of other camps in the Mojave that were in really bad shape. The worst she heard of was Camp Forlorn Hope, where just getting assigned there felt like a death sentence.
Sure, the training was hard, but she had Esteban with her, and that was all that mattered. Within a year of their posting, Esteban, as predicted, had risen through the ranks quickly and become a Ranger. She had been so proud of him when he told her. As for her, well, her scores on the range and the obstacle course weren't great, but they weren't terrible either. She wouldn't be joining any elite units anytime soon.
She was assigned to be one of the front gate guards. All she had to do was sit in a small shack just inside the front gate and keep a log of who entered and left, and at what time. It was simple enough and she was out of the sun, so she couldn't really complain. She did still have to do drills just in case the need for her to fight ever arose.
Whenever she and Esteban were off duty at the same time, they would usually spend it together on base, talking about the future. They were allowed to go to the Strip if they wanted to, but they decided against it. They had seen far too many instances of their comrades blowing their pay as soon as they got it, hoping to strike it rich. They wanted to save their money for when they eventually started a family.
Then came that fateful day, the day all her plans for the future went up in smoke. She was in her bunk reading, as she was not scheduled to be on duty for a few more hours. Esteban and his squad were out on patrol, and she was eagerly awaiting his return. Hearing footsteps coming close to her, she looked over to see Esteban's squad commander and best friend, Roger Jackson. He was Caucasian, standing at roughly six feet tall with short black hair and brown eyes.
Seeing him, she put her book down and stood up. "Oh, hey Jackson, you're back. Where's Esteban?" The man didn't answer immediately, and that was when she noticed that he had a pained look on his face. She suddenly started to get the feeling that something was wrong. "Jackson, where's Esteban?!" she asked, this time a bit more frantically.
He sighed and then told her the bad news. They had been ambushed by fiends near the REPCONN building. They were beginning to get overwhelmed, so he had ordered a retreat. Esteban tried to lay down some covering fire for the squad and ended up taking a bullet to the throat for it. They couldn't get back to him, as much as they wanted to, as that would have further endangered the squad.
It was then she just lost it. She started crying, latching onto Jackson, feeling like her heart had shattered into a million pieces. Jackson just stood there and held her for she didn't know how long. The next thing that she remembered was waking up on her bed. At first, she thought that Jackson telling her that Esteban dying was just a dream, but when she saw Jackson sitting in a chair next to her bed, she knew that it wasn't a dream. Esteban really was gone.
Seeing she was awake, Jackson helped her sit up. He told her that Colonel Hsu had come to see her earlier, but she had been asleep, so Hsu told him to tell her to see him when she awoke, and that she had been excused from duty. She didn't want to do anything but lay in her bed and cry, but she knew that this conversation needed to happen at some point, so it was better to just get it over with.
Jackson helped her stand up and then walked with her to Hsu's office. Along the way, a couple people offered their condolences, but she could barely give them a nod in response. Arriving at the office, Jackson knocked on the door for her. After being told to enter, Jackson put a hand on her back. "Go ahead," he said, "I'll be right out here waiting for you." She nodded, composed herself as best she could, and went in.
She saw the Colonel sitting behind his desk. She had always liked the Colonel, as did Esteban. He was always going around the base, checking on the soldiers. He had even once told her that she was doing a good job, even though she was basically just a glorified secretary. She sat down in front the desk.
He first offered condolences on behalf of the NCR and informed her that she would be excused from duty for the next seven days, per NCR policy. She would also be given the remainder of Esteban's pay as his next of kin. "What-what about Esteban? When are you going to get his body, uh, sir?" she asked.
"Private Morales, we will get his body back as soon as possible. You have my word on that," he replied. There was something in his body language that seemed off to her, but then thought it was just the grief making her see something that wasn't there. Thanking him, she left the office. Jackson was waiting there as promised. He walked her back to her bunk, and then she asked him to give her some time alone.
The days went by in a haze. Jackson, bless him, stayed by her side, helping her with anything that she needed. He told her that he had some time off due to him, so he was using it now. She kept asking Hsu about Esteban, but all he gave her were non-committal answers. She was beginning to get frustrated at the lack of action. He was one of their best Rangers, and they were just going to leave him out there until it was "safe"? What was the point of having elite units stationed on base if they weren't going to use them, to take out some goddamn fiends, no less?
Around midnight on the third day, Jackson asked her to take a walk with him. He led her outside near the monorail tracks, which were vacant, with the train currently in New Vegas, presumably. She was curious as to why he brought her out here, which she asked him about. "Christina," he said, "I know that you're frustrated with the lack of action in recovering Esteban's body. I am too, so I'm going to get him myself, Hsu be damned."
Christina was shocked. "Wh-what? No, Roger, you'll get in trouble," she said in a worried voice. Jackson shook his head. "I don't care. He was under my command, not to mention that he was my best friend. If I had done something different, or tried harder to get back to him, then we wouldn't be in this situation."
She put a hand on his right shoulder. "Roger, I don't blame you. I know that you did what you thought was best at the time." He was silent for a few moments. "Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. It doesn't change anything. I'm going to get him back or die trying, tonight. You're not going to stop me or change my mind. If you're going to go tell Hsu, go ahead. I'll be long gone before you get back. Hell, maybe that'll finally spur him into action."
Christina got tears in her eyes, getting choked up. "No, I-I'm not going to stop you. Just be careful. I don't want to lose you, too. You've been my rock over the past few days, and I don't think I would've been in good a shape right now without you." She then hugged him. "I was happy to do it, Christina. I gotta go. Hopefully, I'll have him back before the sun comes up. You go try and get some sleep, okay?"
She let go of him and nodded. "Okay. I'll see you later." He walked over to the far end of the platform, which lined up with the outer wall of the base. He hopped over to the other side of the railing, lowered himself down, and then dropped down, landing in a crouch on the pavement. She then watched him run off into the night.
She went back to her bunk, and before she went to sleep, prayed to whoever was listening that Jackson would be successful. After an uneasy sleep, she woke up around 7:30. She sat up and looked around, hoping to see Jackson, but the only people she saw were other soldiers getting up for the day. She didn't start to worry yet, maybe thinking it was taking a bit longer than he had thought, or that he was speaking with Hsu or something.
As the day went on, however, there was no sign of Jackson, and now she was starting to worry. As night fell, she began to fear the worst: that Jackson had been killed in his attempt to retrieve Esteban's body for her. She found a secluded part of the base and cried until she could cry no more.
The next day, an MP inquired about Jackson's whereabouts, as he was due back to duty that day, and he was last seen with her. She decided to fudge the truth a bit. She told the MP that she and him had gone outside near the monorail to talk and get some air, but then she had gone to bed while he remained out there. The MP accepted her answer, as well as offering her their condolences.
She muddled through the rest of the day, and then went to sleep. The next day, after having lunch, she went to sit on a chair in the hallway that connected the front of the building to the main concourse. She sat there, for how long she didn't know, slouched over with her head in her hands. Eventually, she heard someone speak to her.
"Excuse me, are you alright?" She looked up to see a man in combat armor down on one knee in front of her, with two others standing behind her. One was wearing a doctor's jacket, while the other one was wearing a First Recon beret. He introduced himself as Mark Franklin, and his companions were Arcade Gannon and Craig Boone. Then she told him about what happened to Esteban, and that they were likely leaving his body out in the desert to rot.
He then went to talk to his companions. She had wished that she could've heard what they were saying, but they were whispering. They came back, and he told her that he and his First Recon friend would be going to retrieve the body themselves.
She was shocked. Why would someone not associated with the NCR, someone she didn't know, go on what she thought was a suicide mission? Then he revealed to her that he was the Courier. She had heard of his exploits on the radio, which included raising a militia to protect the town of Goodsprings from Powder Gangers. There was even a rumor going around base that he gave a dressing-down to General Oliver at the NCR Embassy.
She began to think that maybe he could actually pull it off, especially with a First Recon member with him. While they were gone, she had talked to Arcade about Esteban, his death, the Colonel basically refusing to go get him, and about what Jackson had tried to do for her. It actually felt good to get it off her chest. There weren't any psychiatrists on base, and Jackson, while he did his best, was not one. Arcade, at least, had some understanding of the discipline.
About three hours later, one of the MP's came to her and told her that she was needed in the main terminal building. She looked at Arcade. "You think?" He nodded. She got up and ran to the front of the building, Arcade jogging behind her. She went down the stairs, getting near the front doors. She waited a couple minutes before the door opened. Boone held the door open, and Mark came in, carrying a body over his shoulder.
When she saw who it was, she just broke down, crying into Arcade's chest. She couldn't believe it. They had done it. They had brought Esteban back to her. She tried to give him caps but he refused them, saying all that he wanted was her friendship. That ratcheted her opinion of him even up higher than it had been if that was even possible.
A little while later, after the trio had left, Colonel Hsu informed her that a small memorial service would be held on base the next day. That night, she had slept a lot better than she had been. The ceremony was only attended by the Colonel, herself, a couple MP's, and Esteban's squad mates. Set on a stand was the coffin that held his body, draped in the NCR flag. Only she and the Colonel spoke, and then the MP's folded the flag and presented it to her, per tradition, along with Esteban's dog tags.
Once it was over, she was given a few minutes alone with him. She opened the coffin and just looked at the body of her beloved husband, in full uniform. Eventually, she gave him one final kiss on the lips, told him that she loved him, and closed the coffin. He would be transported back to Shady Sands for burial, which she could not attend, given that the trip would take too long.
Then came the whole situation with General Oliver, which led to her deserting the army and hiding out in Vault 21, eventually making her way to the Lucky 38. What followed were a series of crazy events that she could never have imagined in her wildest dreams. Coming back to the present, she sighed. "Oh, Esteban," she said softly before she closed her eyes.
What felt like seconds later, she opened her eyes to find the room bathed in darkness. She reached over and turned on the light. She then sat up and rubbed her eyes. 'Damn, I must've been out for a while,' she thought. Checking the clock, she saw that it was a little after nine. "Guess they let me sleep. Well, might as well get something to eat."
She went into the hallway and started walking to the kitchen when she realized that she couldn't hear anything else. No voices, no footsteps, no anything. "Hello?" she called out. There was no response. "Could they have all gone out?" she asked herself quietly. She checked the kitchen and the game room, finding no one.
She went to check the bedrooms, finding the doors on the all the rooms locked. This was starting to get very weird. She went to the elevator and pressed the down button, but nothing happened, and continually pressing did nothing but frustrate her. She then tried to open the door to the stairs, but that was locked as well. "What the hell is going on here? Is this some kind of joke?" She raised her voice. "Okay guys, you can come out now. Joke's over, very funny."
She turned around to see someone standing in the middle of the hallway, smiling at her. Her eyes widened in shock because the man standing there was supposed to be dead. "Esteban?" "Hello there, my love," he said. She ran into his arms and started crying. She didn't know how long she held onto him before she pulled back.
"Oh, thank god you're alive. I just had worst and weirdest dream where you died." That was when she noticed that he had a sad smile on his face. Then she looked around. She was still in the Lucky 38, which she wouldn't have been in had Esteban still been alive. Things suddenly started to make sense.
The reason that the doors to the other bedrooms and stairway were locked was because she didn't know what the insides of them looked like. "This is the dream, isn't it? You really are dead, aren't you?" she said, sounding despondent. "I'm afraid so, my love," Esteban said sadly. This started a fresh round of tears.
He pulled her in for another hug. "I miss you too, Christina, but know that I am watching over you. I am immensely proud of what you did after you heard what the General was up to." She looked up at him. "You-you are?" He nodded. "I am. That took great bravery. I am also happy that you found people who were kind enough to take you in and make you part of their team."
"Yeah," she muttered, looking down. He put a finger under her chin and lifted her head, so that she was looking him in the eyes. "I sense a great doubt in your heart. Let me guess: You still don't feel worthy to be among them, despite what they told you." She sighed. He could always read her so well.
"It's just…everything seemed to happen so fast. You died, and then Jackson went missing, and Hsu kept lying to me, and then everything with Oliver, and then Mark and them took me in, and I think that they expect me to help fight the Legion, but I'm not a fighter. I only joined the military because I didn't want to be away from you."
He simply smiled at her. "My love, I do not think that they expect you to do anything other than what you are comfortable with. I know that it is not in your nature to be a fighter, but perhaps there is something else that you were meant for." She looked confused. "Like what?" "If I remember correctly, you always seemed to be reading books on first aid and medicine, as well as talking to the base physicians. Perhaps that is what you are meant for."
"You think that I should be a doctor? But they already have Arcade." "I think that you should do what makes you happiest. As for that Arcade fellow, well, he seems like the type of guy who would teach someone who wanted to learn."
She thought about it, and she realized that he was right. She did enjoy reading those books and talking to the doctors. A smile came to her face. "I see you made a decision," Esteban said. "I have. I'll become a doctor," she replied. "Then be the best damn doctor you can be." He pulled her in for a kiss.
Her eyes shot open, and she looked around. She was still in her room at the 38, light streaming through the window. She stood up and looked at the picture of her late husband, feeling energized at having a newfound purpose. "Thank you, Esteban," she said quietly as she walked towards the door.
(10 minutes earlier)
Abby and Amata were in the young girl's room. Abby was sitting at her desk, a sheet of paper and groups of bottlecaps in front of her, with a pencil in her hand. Amata was looking over her shoulder, showing her how to do some basic multiplication problems using the caps. Skye was laying at their feet, taking a nap, while ED-E flew around the room.
Both humans looked over when there was a knock on the open door. It was Arcade. "Hi, Uncle Arcade!" Abby said, smiling at him. He wandered over to the desk. Skye opened one eye to see what was going on, but quickly went back to sleep. "Hey, Abby. What're you working on?" "Mommy's teaching me multiplication," she answered. "That's good. Multiplication's important." He looked over at Amata. "Hey, when you have a second, can we talk, uh, in private?" he asked.
"Just give me one second, Arcade. Abby, keep working on those problems, and I'll check them when I come back, okay?" Abby nodded. "Good. Lead on, Arcade." She followed him out of the room and into his own. Looking around, she saw stacks of papers and books on his desk and on the coffee table. His Followers jacket was hung over the back of the desk chair, and his medical bag was right next to the desk. All-in-all, nothing that seemed out of place for an academic such as Arcade.
She then looked over in the back left corner of the room and saw something that did seem out of place: The Enclave armor that he had come back in. Absentmindedly she wandered over to it, Arcade watching her as she did. She touched one of the tubes on the left shoulder. "What're these tubes, and what're they for?" she asked. He walked over to her.
"Those are Tesla attraction coil rods. They increase energy resistance by dispersing a large percentage of energy attacks through them. It was one of the last major armor advancements they made before Navarro fell." Amata nodded and walked over to the couch. Arcade sat down next to her.
"Okay, so what did you need to talk to me about?" Arcade didn't answer, his gaze on the suit of armor. "Arcade?" That snapped him out of his daze. "Oh, sorry. I'm just not sure where to start." "Well, the beginning is usually a good place," she said. He smiled. "That's true. I-I'm facing a bit of a conundrum, and I need some advice."
Amata had a concerned look on her face. "What sort of conundrum?" she asked. His eyes went back to the suit. "That suit…it's not just some random suit of power armor. It was my father's." Amata's eyes widened at that revelation. "Wow. Really?" "Yeah. Normally, they would've just given it to someone else after he died, but my mother and the rest of the squad convinced the higher-ups to put it in storage, with the plan apparently being that I would one day wear it."
"When the NCR overran Navarro, they destroyed as many spare suits as they could to prevent the NCR from getting their hands on it. My mother absolutely refused to destroy her late husband's suit, so, after a quick lesson in how to use it from the others, she donned it. I was still too young to fit in it at the time."
"Me, my mom, and the Remnants were on one of the last vertibirds out before the base fell. The others knew of an old bunker out here near Mt. Charleston that reportedly hadn't been used in a while, so that's where we headed. It was empty when we got there, so we hunkered down for a few days while we planned our next move."
"We knew that the Brotherhood and NCR would be hunting for any Enclave members that escaped, so it was decided that it would be easier to avoid detection it we went our separate ways. So, we mothballed the armor, uniforms, and vertibird, changed the password, and set the security. Before we left, we made a promise to each other to meet there once a year on the date we separated just so we could keep in touch with each other."
"That's where you went a few days ago, to this bunker, isn't it?" Amata asked. He nodded. "When we first arrived, we found these basic communication devices tied to a computer there that would start buzzing if an alert was sent out. We each took one so that if there was an emergency, one of us could go there and activate it. This was the first time that they had actually been used."
"Like I told Mark, with the situation out here the way it is, I figured that maybe the Remnants could help, maybe atone for some of what the Enclave has done." "Well, Arcade, I appreciate you telling me all of this, but nowhere in there was an explanation about what this conundrum is that you're facing." Arcade took a deep breath.
"You know, the Remnants always treated me like one of their own, even though I never fought with them or anything, probably out of respect for my mom and dad. I just- I've been wondering if I should honor my father's memory and finally don that suit for battle when the Legion makes its move. If I should become the warrior that my mother told me he wanted me to be."
"On the other hand, I know that when the Legion attacks, all hell is going to break loose in Freeside, and the Followers are going to need all the help they can get." He looked at her imploringly. "Amata, what do I do?" Amata didn't answer immediately, appearing to be deep in thought. "Arcade," she said eventually, "before I give you my opinion, I am going to preface it by saying that no matter what you choose to do, you have our support."
"That being said, you are not a fighter, Arcade. You are a doctor. Look, any idiot can fire a gun. It takes a lot of training and smarts to become a doctor. Well, a good doctor, anyway. You are your own man, Arcade, and you don't have to do anything that your father wanted you to do. Like, I'm sure that mine and Mark's mothers would've wanted us to turn out a certain way, or do something specific with our lives, but like your father, they died before we could remember anything about them."
"Would we have been different people if they were still alive, or if we had been able to remember them? Who knows, and honestly, who cares? We could ask "what if" about a thousand different things that have happened and if they could have happened differently. All that's going to do is drive you insane."
"Is it wrong to want to honor my father, even if I don't remember him?" Arcade asked. Amata shook her head. "No, it's not wrong, Arcade, but pretending to be something that you're not is. You were born to heal, not to hurt. Besides, between the Securitrons, the Brotherhood, and the others, we already have enough fighters."
"But the Remnants-" "-Are soldiers. They fight. That's what they do, or what they did. They have the memories of your father, so let them fight in his memory. If you want to do something in someone's memory, then be a good doctor in your mother's memory." The room went silent, with Arcade looking at the suit again.
"You know, I've always wondered how much of my father the Remnants see in me. When I called them to the bunker and explained what was going on, I think they got the impression that I was going to fight alongside them like my father did." He paused. "I guess they're going to be disappointed."
Amata smiled. "I knew that you'd make the right decision, Arcade. And if they're disappointed, well, they're adults. I'm sure they can deal with it." Arcade nodded. "Yeah. I'm glad they've watched out for me all these years, but they need to realize that I'm not him. My allegiance is to you guys and the Followers, not the Enclave." He sighed. "That's going to be a fun conversation. The only question is, what do I do with that suit now? I guess I could say I found an abandoned suit and give it to the Followers to see if they can adapt the tech for anything useful."
Amata patted him on the arm and stood up. "Sounds like a good idea, Arcade. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to Abby." She opened the door, only to be met with the sight of Christina about to knock on the door. "Oh. Pardon me, Christina," Amata said, side-stepping the former soldier and walking into the hallway.
Christina looked into the room. "Uh, Arcade, can I talk to you for a second?" "Sure. Come in and have a seat." She shut the door behind her and sat down in the seat Amata had just vacated. "What's up?" Arcade asked.
"Arcade, I want you to teach me about medicine, and healing, and all that. If-if you have time, that is." Arcade looked at her curiously. "Can I ask what brought this on?" She sighed. "I have my reasons. Could we just leave it at that, please?" He looked at her for a moment before he nodded.
"Ok. I won't pry. If your goal is to become a fully-fledged doctor, then I would normally suggest that you go back to the Followers headquarters in Los Angeles to do so. While I am one, I don't have the time or the resources to teach you everything that you would need to know. They have a whole program that would be extremely beneficial for you to go through. However, in the current climate, sending you back to California on your own would be a bad idea."
She nodded in understanding. He stood up and walked over to the bookshelf, scanning it for a few seconds before pulling a couple books off of it. "Right now, I think that it would be more prudent for you to study up on first aid and battlefield medicine." He walked over to her and handed her the books.
"Read those books. They've helped me immensely over the years. Once you've read them both, then we'll move on from there." She looked at him, a fierce determination in her eyes. "I won't let you down, Arcade." 'Or you, Esteban.'
Hope you enjoyed the chapter. When I was first planning this chapter, I was going to have Christina ask Boone to help her become a better fighter, but along the way I decided to switch it to how it is now. Being a doctor just seemed more in line with her personality. Until next time, and reviews are welcomed and appreciated.