AN: This is another old one, and I don't think it reflects my current writing ability. Still, it's brief, and I'm awfully fond of it.


Dogmeat's Vacation

Synopsis: When Dogmeat is injured, the Lone Wanderer must find a place to keep him safe. (K+)


Capital Wasteland, 2280.

Considering that the top of his head didn't quite reach a human's waist, Dogmeat was a beast of remarkable tenacity. The fallout must have altered his ancestors' genetic code; he wasn't anything like the dogs Aniss had read about in Vault 101. He seemed to age slower (if he aged at all). At his angriest, he could take down men five times his size. He'd weathered bullets, grenades, stabs, stings, and everything in between. Inevitably, something had to take him down.

Star Paladin Cross hummed bleakly at his furry mass huddled on the slick dirt. "Faithful Dogmeat, what happened to you?"

"Come on, boy," Aniss crooned from where she kneeled at his side. "Let's go, buddy." She whistled for his attention but got no response. "I know it hurts, but I've got a stimpak and some yao guai that'll have you feeling right as rain."

Dogmeat placed his nose in her hand. He didn't seem particularly enticed by the hunk of meat cut from his attacker. It was a bit tough and rich for humans, but usually Dogmeat would eat it up. Aniss smiled grimly and rubbed his head.

"Sister, a stimpak will not heal your pet." Cross advised softly. "He has been gravely injured."

The flesh of the dog's side was torn worryingly deep by claws of the great black bear. Cross held pressure on the wound so Aniss could administer the medicine. Dogmeat lay peacefully on his side for the injection, though weak whimpering drew from his throat. One leg curled close to his body; it seemed broken.

"This may have been Dogmeat's final battle, Aniss," Cross returned to her point.

Aniss's features contorted briefly, as Cross had expected them to. A girl of 22, she had particularly nasty attachment issues that Cross found unbecoming of a Knight of Steel. The super mutant and the ghoul had eagerly and resignedly (in that order) accepted their fates as her best friends. She had lost James over two years ago, but she got an abundance of fatherly praise from the omnipresent voice on her radio. Cross suspected that she herself was filling in, at least partially, for Aniss's departed mother, though the young woman seemed to respect the paladin too much to voice these feelings.

And the little dog was practically the love of her life. Most wastelanders didn't form such attachments with animals outside of a shared survival instinct. The scarcity of food and the fragility of life saw to that. But Aniss wasn't your average wastelander, and now here she was, laying on her stomach to gaze into Dogmeat's mismatched eyes.

She stood, still speaking to the dog. "Well, the stimpak should stop the bleeding soon, so we'll try to move you then. That okay?" Steel, that was a lot of blood for such a little animal. "What's the closest settlement to here, Arefu? I could use some help with the stitching." Cross realized Aniss was now addressing her. "Unless we should try our luck at Paradise Falls? Sometimes you'll find squatters there, but a doctor would be a lot to ask for..."

"Aniss, your sweet boy has fought valiantly for years. Let him rest."

Aniss straightened with the force of a striking power fist. "You're absolutely right," she decided firmly. Cross raised her eyebrows, skeptical of the sudden show of pragmatism. "Dogmeat deserves a monster of a vacation."

Cross opened her mouth to clarify what she'd meant, but of course Aniss understood. She was counting on one of her lucky breaks to get them out of this, stubbornly ignoring the information she didn't want to hear. Maybe Cross really was becoming her mother; the two looked almost similar enough.

Briskly, Aniss skinned the yao guai, and Cross helped fashion a stretcher from the hide. The end result was shoddy, but it served its purpose. Though Cross would have preferred to see the creature out of his pain, he seemed content enough with a quarter-syringe of Med-X.

As late as three years ago, no one would have dreamed of traipsing through the wilderness with their hands full and stinking of blood, but they arrived in Megaton with no trouble at all. There was no denying that the Capital Wasteland was safer than it had been before the Purity War, and the dangers that did still exist were sure to steer clear of the Lone Wanderer.

Aniss deposited Dogmeat carefully on the picnic table in her foyer, shoving stray bullets, thank-you notes, and half-full cups of pure water onto the floor as she did so. Wadsworth whirred with discomfort and busied about picking up the debris.

Charon appeared in the doorway of his room, summoned by his employer's arrival. His scarred and pitted face tightened in concern when he saw Dogmeat, and he quickly took his place at Aniss's side.

With practiced care, she cleaned, stitched, and bandaged the three long gashes still weakly spurting fresh blood across the dog's side. With that handled, she set about splinting his injured leg and assessing the rest of him for injury. Cross and the bodyguard helped when asked, but Aniss had her father's aptitude for medicine, even if she didn't put it into practice very often. Finally, Dogmeat was stable and no longer suffering.

"Now then," Aniss began, tidying her workspace. "Which one of you wants to help me move him into the city?"

Cross made herself comfortable, settling her super sledge against the table. "What is in the city?"

"Many things. Most notably, Galaxy News Radio. That's where he'll be staying."

"Why send him there?" asked Charon, tousling the dog's ears. Dogmeat sleepily licked his hand in thanks.

"Why not? It's protected. Three Dog is an ally. Dogmeat can rest and listen to music. He likes music." She trailed off, voice heavy-laden.

"Very well. I will accompany you," declared Charon, stoic and professional as always.

"Charon never volunteers for assignments," Cross remarked with incredulity.

"For Dogmeat."

"If only he would serve the Codex with such fervor," she added. Aniss spared her a dark look.

Cross didn't have anything in particular against the ghoul, but she had always objected to Sarah Lyons's decision to knight him into a cause he didn't seem to care about. Even as good as Aniss had been to him, he still kept up a compulsively sour attitude toward everything, including his duties as a Brother and her bodyguard. Aniss had explained it away as his personal form of protest against the injustice of his existence, or some such nonsense. Apparently that rule was relaxed when it came to Dogmeat.

"Alright," Aniss declared sternly. "We leave in ten."


"— so I'm going to need you to take care of him for a few weeks, while he heals up."

Dogmeat doggy-smiled up at the three of them from his lounging position. He couldn't stand, but he was in admirably high spirits for an animal injured so badly.

Three Dog threw back his head with a wide grin. "My favorite meandering mutt and I, for a whole couple weeks? Like Christmas." He kept up his disc jockey demeanor even in private. Charon found it hard to trust a person like that. The muscle twitched where his nose had once been.

"Meandering mutt?" Aniss repeated, flashing an uninhibited grin. Three Dog had the opposite effect on her.

"I'll come up with something better. In the meantime, Dogmeat and I are gonna be closer than twin heads on a Brahmin. Three-Dog-Meat. Four dog!"

"Thank you, Three Dog," Aniss said seriously. "This means a lot. You've always been there for me. I hope you know I appreciate it."

"My sister, you brought the good fight to the STREETS. I owe you some lip service and a fortnight of dogsitting. Don't worry your curly little head about it."

"Perfect. Gonna be okay, Dogmeat?" she asked. Dogmeat woofed quietly, as if he understood.

"Smart mutt," remarked Three Dog.

Aniss turned to leave, but her bodyguard had other ideas. Charon strode smoothly to Three Dog, landing an uncomfortably short distance from his face. The ghoul's expression was inscrutable. "This is no game. You will care and provide for the dog?"

"Of course, pal."

"You will respect him as the hero he is?"

"You can count on it." Three Dog didn't drop his easy smile.

Charon stared at him suspiciously for a few moments longer, searching for some hint of treachery behind the announcer's dark glasses.

"C'mon," Aniss chided him. "Three Dog is gonna be the best dogsitter this side of the Pitt." Charon harrumphed and followed her down the stairs.

"Ball of energy, that one," Three Dog informed Dogmeat once they'd left. "I think his brain's seen as much mileage as his genes." Dogmeat huffed happily. "Of course I know you're a hero."


"How's it hanging, Wash-ing-ton? You're listening to GALAXY NEWS RADIO, with me and my favorite fearless fleabag, Dogmeat! Dogmeat?"

"Ruff!"

"That's right, buddy! Today, Dogmeat and I have been thinking about caps! Is Three Dog going Scrooge on you? No, Wasteland, I've been getting reports of traders finding rare caps with STARS on them!"

"Bark! Bark!"

"What could it mean indeed, Dogmeat? From what I'm hearing, these caps..."

Aniss smiled down at her screen as they traipsed uphill, the dust underfoot polluting the joints of their armor. "Sounds like he's doing alright without us."

Charon grunted affirmation. "He has improved. I'm pleased."

A show of positive emotion from Charon was rare, and it elicited a smile from Aniss. "What made you act so..."she chuckled drily. "Neurotic? When we dropped him off?"

He didn't acknowledge her for a few moments. Aniss knew he would always answer his employer's questions, so she patiently watched him stare at the road ahead.

"A person can say what he wants. His actions define him. Putting a life in a man's hands based on his words alone... he could fail us. And Dogmeat will have no defense."

The corner of Aniss's mouth twisted. "Trust issues, huh?" There were six signatures on the contract above her own. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to have her life in those hands. She didn't dare ask.

Charon answered slowly and deliberately. "The worst suffering comes for those who think they are secure. You know that. Better when the evil is clear from the beginning. Better not to trust."

Aniss hmmphed with grim amusement. She'd have liked to unpack that, but it was better to to let him volunteer information without feeling interrogated. But there was one think she wanted to know. "Bet I freaked you out at first then, huh?"

His eyes narrowed at the rocky hillside. An outsider would have read it as vague disdain, but Aniss knew his spectrum of emotions extended much more broadly than his facial expressions did. "Deeply."

They continued in silence for a moment. "Watch your step," she advised, glancing as a trickle of stones dislodged and cascaded down. "So. Charon."

"Yes."

"Ask you another question?"

A shelf of eroded dirt stood in front of them; he knelt to boost her up. "As you wish."

She wasn't sure if that was assent or resignation, but nothing in his voice or body language gave her pause. "Do you feel like you can trust me now?"

Charon hauled himself onto the shelf and met her eyes, his brief words speaking volumes. "I do."

They'd reached the top of the rock face, framed by brilliant color. Radioactive debris impeded breathing in the Wasteland, but it made the sunrise radiant.

"That's all the news this segment, Wasteland! This is Three Dog — and Dogmeat — wishing you a magnificent Monday! OWWWWWW!"

"arOOOOOO!"

"OWOOOOOO!"

"aROOO!"

Three Dog laughed joyfully until the broadcast transitioned to "Happy Times."