Chapter Eleven:
Off the Trail

Disclaimer: I don't own anything of the Fallout franchise. That is all © to Bethesda. I just (barely) own the slightly fleshed out humdrum backstory and writing contents of this story. Any vague mentioning to any shows/ books/ video games/ songs that are mentioned in this story are all © to their respective owners, I do not own them either.

Note: This took a while to piece together and edit but it was worth it. I hope y'all enjoy! And to reply to AlexFalTon, Queenie lost her leg years prior to the start of this story, which is inconvenient, no matter the case! Especially when she liked having two real legs but she's since learned to work around it. Marines do often say, "adapt and overcome," which she took to heart. :D

Alliance: None

Companion: Dogmeat

Horatio:
O day and night, but this is wondrous strange.

Hamlet:
And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
-Horatio and Hamlet, "Hamlet" by William Shakespeare

Quinn awoke alone.

Or at least, as alone as one could get. But her bed wasn't empty. A local cat that the entire community of Covenant cared for was curled beside her, purring contentedly. As Quinn stirred, the cat awakened and instead of getting up, decided to roll onto her back, exposing her fluffy belly. Dogmeat had claimed the end of the bed by her foot and barely roused at first. She sat up and scratched the cat on the head. The cat, in return, peeped its eyes open just a smidge. Dogmeat lifted his head and boofed at Quinn.

"Morning to you, too. Hey, Quill, you up or—?"

She froze, a shudder wracking her body, and it couldn't be blamed on the sudden chill she was feeling in the communal sleeping quarters.

There was tension in her right hand, as if she was being gripped by another too tightly. Quinn glanced downwards and recoiled almost instantly. Flayed, blackened fingers gripped her with such force, tightening their hold when she tried to pull away. A jagged, sneering grin met her gaze when she looked up, a crescent of white against charred flesh that wept against the patches of angry red and raw flesh. Pale, opaque white eyes were locked on hers, the mouth slightly agape. The noxious stench of burning hair and sizzling flesh choked her senses, coating the back of her throat, staining her lungs. It was so overpowering, she almost believed she was choking on smoke.

Quinn fell back with a start. The spectre's hold on her released at last. Her arm slipped off the edge of the bed and she went tumbling further over the side in a crumpled heap. The cat leapt from the bed in surprise, while Dogmeat bolted upright, whining down at Quinn with concern. Quinn's breath stuttered out of her, heart pounding a staccato rhythm against her ribcage.

The ghastly figure was gone, but the cold snap in the air centered around her lingered. No matter how well acquainted she was with these sudden appearances, it was never one of those fun surprises she only sometimes saw coming.

"The lake," a hoarse, strained voice sighed in her left ear, a voice that struggled to breath, to speak. Always the damned left ear. Whispers from the dead were the only things she seemed to hear in that ear these days and it was always with damning clarity. Quinn flinched away, but knew that nothing was beside her, even when she looked. Whoever they had once been, they were gone now.

She focused on the message they imparted her with and shuddered. 'The lake'. Of-fucking-course there had to be something out there, because the Universe just loved to play her for a fool. Quinn, 'the Earth King has invited you to Lake Laogai' and all that jazz. Jesus titty-sucking Christ.

A few of the beds were empty of their occupants, but some were still sleeping. Only one person was in the process of waking up. They paused when they took notice of Quinn crumpled on the floor, intact leg tangled in the sheets.

"Are you all right?" They asked with knitted brows and concerned eyes.

"Y-yeah. Just bad dreams, is all—"

"Queenie! You okay? What happened?"

Quinn's heart gave a start, relief flooding her almost as quickly when she saw Quill filling in the exit doorway at the far end of the house. The tension bled out of her frame, and she waved to him with a grin. The other occupant glanced between her and her brother, before deciding things were well enough that they could move on.

"Oh, you know, just doing some bedside yoga. Care to join me?" She began carefully pulling her leg out of the sheets and sat upright, back pressed against the bed. Her prosthetic was right where she had left it, thankfully. Quinn pulled herself back up onto the bed and Dogmeat nosed her arm. She patted him reassuringly, then set to work with putting her other leg back on. He promptly scooted closer and plopped his head on her thigh with a heavy sigh.

Quill came to sit on her other side, elbows resting on his thighs as he slumped forward. He scanned the room, satisfied to find it empty, but his voice remained hushed when he spoke next. It took Quinn only a few seconds to recognize he wasn't speaking to her in English, but in Japanese. She sighed and lashed the last latch into place.

"No dice today, huh?"

She shook her head, and replied back, but not in Japanese like her brother had. She replied in Apsáalooke. It was something that they had been doing ever since they were children. Sometimes, they'd even mix it up and speak to one another in their opposite language—Quinn in Japanese, Quill in Apsáalooke.

It seemed the safest option, considering the idea of someone spying on them, listening in on their conversations seemed high.

"Maybe we need to be outside the walls, vulnerable in the wilds for them to take us. That's what happened to this…Stockton girl, right?"

"Something like that." Perhaps they had gone about things wrong. Maybe they weren't ticking off the alarms for people that they believe a synth should. It was possible that the Covenant people won't make a move in their own community—especially since they were a mixture of residents and travelers. They might be waiting for a potential target to be outside, far enough away from Covenant, but close enough for a speedy retreat to the hidden lab.

Maybe we just need to leave, Quill thought, once more thinking the decision to abandon the endeavor to solve Amelia Stockton's disappearing act was the better idea. But with his twin, her mind was set—and he was not leaving her behind.

"…Do you have a plan?"

"What happens if they take me and not you?"

"They'll torture you until you either die, them trying to prove that you're a synth, or—"

"—until you come for me. And if they take you instead, it'll still the same results."

They were silent for a long while. They kept their heads on a swivel, amber gazes scanning their surroundings with prickling sensitivity. Even out here, Quinn felt eyes on her and her brother. Dogmeat sensed the twins' heightened alertness and tension, so he too joined in with being on high alert. Every noise had him bristling, and Quinn wasn't going to stop to correct him. His hearing was supersonic compared to hers or her brother's.

Their second day had begun much like their first in Covenant. There had been nothing dramatic that occurred, no sinister kidnappers spiriting them away in the middle of the night. It had all gone very…normal.

They had eaten breakfast, chatted with some of the locals. Quill had been surprised to see two children—a boy and a girl—running around between the tables, playing with a pair of wooden car toys, giggling hysterically as they went up and down the lanes. The adults had watched with affection, and only one or two had told them to slow down or they'd trip and hurt themselves.

Quill had found himself smiling at the scene, seeing his sister relaxed, the kids at play, and he had almost found himself lulled by the tranquility of it all.

But the thought of Amelia Stockton came trickling back to him, and he had to yank himself away from being distracted by the saccharine-sweet falsity that Covenant masked itself with. It was meant to do that: to tug on the heartstrings, to be appealing to travelers, to have them let their guard down. To make them feel safe. The walls and the turrets were just icing on the cake to sell that illusion further. Or maybe it was a matter of hiding their sinister dealings in plain sight: it was a prison more than anything, and the locals were the prison guards, waiting to strike.

Quill shook the thoughts of their rendezvous at breakfast away.

He followed Quinn, her rifle clutched tightly in his hands. Quinn was taking to her bow. Once more, they had left under the guise of hunting, only today, they really were hunting. Quinn crouched, tracing her fingers over the marks that looked like scratches to him—but to her, they were the animal tracks they were following. He could, at best, make only a few clear tracks that alluded to several elk, or maybe even deer.

"What if they don't try to come after us right now?" Quinn's voice remained quiet, and yet the words themselves cut deep and sharp. The unknown variables were making this hell trying ponder over. But he had to try and muscle through it all. Their survival was dependent on figuring it out and fast. A game had set coding that more or less worked, if one did it right. Life was a minefield and one wrong step…boom.

"Then they might try when we leave for good. Or maybe they'll take one of us when we're sleeping tonight. Or…I don't know."

"What happens if they take both of us?"

"That…" Quill paused to think. He hadn't even considered that. What if he and Quinn were both taken? What then? Would Honest Dan bother trying to find them? Or would he end the search and give up, go back to Bunker Hill to report his failures?

"Let's just hope it doesn't come to that."

"I thought I was selling it with popping my leg off yesterday. I can't believe I tripped on purpose for a stupid scratch on the arm for nothing!"

"You might have oversold it, actually. Or maybe they don't see it as any kind of sign that says 'Look at me, I'm a synth!' I'm…not sure how common a lost limb replaced by a prosthetic is out here. It…wasn't something that came up in the…the game. I don't think there were any in the base coding or character designs. But…adjusting for reality, it might just be more common than we know."

Quinn grumbled to herself. "Ugh."

He agreed on that singular grunted word. Ugh, indeed.

They traipsed through the underbrush and around the skeletal remains of trees, skirting around bushes that still held much of their density despite being just as barren. A carpet of leaves lay strewn about on the forest floor, most rotted by the coming winter and muted their steps. Some were partly frozen from the chill that still clung to the air. Quinn's steps were careful and measured, especially when she picked up on signs of recent traveling marks from their quarry. Dogmeat, who seemed consistently glued to Quinn's side, stopped growling when she patted him along the hackles.

She began using hand signals, and Quill moved when and where she told him to. They finally caught up to the herd they'd been tracking. Radstags, big as hell, both the bucks and does. Quill's hands tightened on the rifle. Old tics began to reassert themselves in him, old habits he'd thought he had long forgotten. Truly, he did believe he hadn't retained anything, and yet his body was moving to old muscle memory. Just like at the Museum of Freedom, the familiar feel of a rifle wedged into his shoulder and held firmly in his grasp was suddenly so easily remembered.

They took cover and Quinn had them pause as she assessed things. He split his attention between her and the herd until she flagged him down for his attention. She drew her index finger to her lips. He nodded. She motioned towards the stragglers at the edge of the herd. He nodded again. When she took aim, he did as well. From the corner of his eye, he saw her release her arrow, and so he pulled the trigger. The crack of the rifle sent the rest of the herd scattering, squeals and bellows following in their wake.

Her arrow and his bullet, however, found their marks. The bucks they were aiming for squealed and kicked their back legs in protest and shock, stumbling over their suddenly uncooperative limbs and went crashing to the ground. The rest of the herd was already disappearing from sight over the crest of a ridge towards the west.

By the time he and Quinn came to the fallen radstags' sides, hers had already passed away. Dogmeat sniffed away at both bodies, tail lightly swaying. Quill's was grunting in pain, eyes rolling in terror. He knelt, drawing his knife and quietly apologized and thanked it before sinking the blade in. Both heads collapsed and the struggle ended. Quinn planted her hands on her hips as she assessed their work. He stood back up, cleaning his blade before returning it to its sheath.

"So, you two really can hunt, huh?"

Quill jumped at the sound of an intruding voice, fumbling to get the rifle into position and whirled with a yelp. Quinn was more leisurely in her movements, turning to face the newcomer and grinned lazily. Honest Dan stood between two oak trees, leaning on one and smoking. He eyed the two bucks they'd taken down with approval.

"Glad you could make it," she said, digging into her back pocket for her own packet of cigarettes. Once she had it lit, she puffed away and stowed the packet back where it belonged. Quill wrinkled his nose and coughed, stepping away from the drifting smoke.

"Gross. You seriously need to quit."

"It's been over two hundred years since my last one, relax. I think I've been a good girl and deserve a smoke break every once in a while."

Honest Dan ventured closer, raising a brow at the pair. "Sorry to interrupt your little domestic dispute, but you asked me to come out here, so here I am."

That sobered the pair. Quill cleaned his knife and returned it to its sheath. Dogmeat began thumping his tail on the ground, looking up at Quinn with a soft whine. She stroked his head and he quieted down.

"Well, we have a few ideas that might help you find Amelia Stockton, since you're coming up short lately," Quill began. A sour expression crossed over Honest Dan's face, but he gave a grudging nod.

"And those ideas might be…what, exactly?"

"We drug them all."

Surprise coloured the other man's face and he very nearly drops his lit cigarette.

"I'm…what? Drug them? What in the hell are you talking about? And with what exactly, Jet?"

Quinn appeared nonplussed, taking in his surprise in stride. She took her time in answering, drawing out the silence like the end of her cigarette: slow and steady. "There's a plant I can crush up and spike their drinking water with. It's largely harmless in low enough doses, and it will send everyone off to dreamland within minutes of ingesting it. That's when we can make our move. But we need more information. Right, Quill?"

Quill cleared his throat and nodded, swallowing past the lump lodged in it, right alongside any objections he might have had as well. This was her area of expertise, and he trusted her on this. Honest Dan, in contrast, was openly skeptical.

"And you're sure this'll work? What if someone doesn't drink any of it?"

"We'll cross that bridge if we have to. Quill, can you start making litters for these two? And you, help him."

"Where do you think you're going? You're not helping us?" Honest Dan growled, to which Quinn gave him a courteous pause.

"I need to go collect those plants and prepare them for tonight. I'll be back soon. Dogmeat, come along."

She gave a sharp whistle and Dogmeat loped after Quinn, tail wagging madly behind him. Quill watched his sister go before he was left completely alone with Honest Dan. He politely cleared his throat.

"Do you want me to show you how to make a litter for these radstags, or…?"

"You're seriously going to give all this meat to those people?"

Quill hesitated. "Not for free. For gear, supplies, caps. Whatever we can get. Right now, from where we stand, you don't have a lot of support back in Covenant. They've closed ranks on you. But for me and Quinn…"

Honest Dan seemed to understand and he grudgingly nodded. "And you two are new faces. You can build up rapport with them, get on their good side, weasel out some information. I gotcha."

The caravan guard grunted as he finished off his cigarette. Once it was done, he dropped it and stamped his boot to snuff it out. "Let's get this prepped, then."

"I…actually have another idea too. If you'll hear me out," Quill said, testing the waters. Honest Dan gave pause and waited. Encouraged, Quill continued. "Mayor Ogden might have something filed away in his place. It only makes sense, right, with him being so important to Covenant? Maybe you and Quinn can go digging. I can provide a distraction when we get back so you two can do that."

"Whoa! You weren't kidding about hunting, were you?"

Brian Fitzgerald was, once again, on gate duty. He rose from his desk and came around to stare in wide-eyed appreciation at the haul the twins were bringing. Dogmeat loped ahead and doubled back several times—dashing to the twins, back to the door, and then returned to the twins again.

"Nope. My sister's the best tracker I know. She can find just about anyone or anything," Quill stated. Quinn flashed him a warm, appreciative smile at the compliment. They paused at the front of the gate, wiping the sweat from their brows. Brian looped around the two deer, tied down to the litters they were dragging together.

"Impressive, I'll give you that. This for us?"

"For a price, or for trade," Quinn answered, to which Brian nodded understandingly.

"Sounds about right, but we'll be fair on our end, so long as you are on yours. Go see my wife, Penny. She can set you up with the best prices this side of the Commonwealth."

He waved them on, returning to his desk to admit them inside. The twins continued, and as they entered Covenant proper, they quickly drew in a crowd. They caught sight of Honest Dan, lingering on the fringes of the travelers. Once Quinn had returned with her bounty of plants, he had left them and gone ahead to Covenant, leaving the twins to dragging the radstags on their litters.

The two children from the morning came to ogle up front and up close, poking at one of the radstag buck's antlers with delight.

"Is it dead? Can we eat it?"

"Gotta cook them up before you can eat them, but we also need to clean and cut up the pieces. We're willing to trade or sell the prime cuts for supplies or caps," Quill answered.

"And just because we're so nice, we're even willing to share our share with you two, when it gets cooked up. Ever had venison steak? Delicious," Quinn added with a wink and a smile to the children. That earned another round of happy giggles from them. That seemed to put the adults at ease, and that was something Quill noticed almost at once. The residents were visibly relaxed, and the visitors…they were already so. It was such a startling contrast, it pulled him up short.

He was startled by the happy squeals of the kids throwing themselves at Dogmeat, latching themselves to him and once more complimenting on how much of a good boy he was. Quill's eyes darted back around the crowd of faces, but he lost track of who was who at a split second's glance. They all blended together, shared the same grateful or delighted expressions.

One came forward, breaking the spell: a woman clad in a green dress that hugged in the right places and flared out in others, giving her a demure yet hospitable appearance. She waved to the twins before motioning to herself.

"Hi there! I'm Penny Fitzgerald! I'm Brian's wife, you've already met him, I'm sure. I run the general store here at Covenant."

The edges of Quill's lips pinched upward, and he stepped forward, intercepting the woman from reaching his sister. "I'm Quill King, and this is my sister, Quinn King. Sorry we didn't introduce ourselves sooner. We just thought it'd be nice to pay you folks for your kindness with something more tangible than just words."

"Well, that sure is mighty kind of you two! We can get you settled over by my shop. Talia, Ted! Could you two be a pair of a dears and drag these over so our two friends can do their thing?"

A man and woman materialized from the crowd, and it grew a little thinner as the throng parted and broke apart, allowing a clear path up the hill. Quinn hung back with the kids and Dogmeat, while Quill marched alongside the radstags. He gave a glance back over his shoulder and caught his twin's eye. She seemed busy, entertaining the two kids by having Dogmeat do a few tricks for treats—but she caught his gaze and gave a wink before turning back to her adoring fans. She always had treats on her when she had her dogs at hand. He remembered the first time he had met Tigress. She had probably been one of the best dogs he ever had the pleasure of meeting, and the best behaved.

Quinn always said she was better with animals than people. Kids were probably an exception that rule.

"Their security is not that good, is it? Beyond the turrets, I mean."

"Good enough that I can't make a move on my own," Honest Dan spat before taking a puff on his cigarette. Quinn lightly tapped her own, letting the ashes tumble to the ground before taking another long drag.

"Misdirection, my dear Watson. You must employ a little bit of misdirection."

"What? My name's Hone—"

"Yes, yes. Clearly you don't get the reference, so let's move on." Quinn interrupted and waved a dismissive hand in Honest Dan's face. His face pinched into a scowl, but Quinn wasn't paying him much mind. She motioned toward the open square in the middle of the neighborhood, where her brother was. He was quickly drawing in a crowd, pantomiming motions that seemed overly exaggerated and wild.

The deer they had brought in was now cut up and the larger pieces were now inside a smokehouse of Quinn's design. The pelt was drying, stretched out on a rack to keep it in a fixed position. Other cuts of the meat had been packaged and shuttered to the communal kitchen, ready to be cooked immediately.

Her eyes were drawn back to the wild motions her brother was going through.

"What do you think he's doing out there?"

The man behind her didn't hesitate in answering.

"Being the biggest fool in the Commonwealth."

"He's telling a story. Of course he's got to act like a fool. It's the role of a storyteller." Quinn gave pause and huffed a laugh, smiling. "He's good at that, ya know? He can spin a good story, get everyone involved. Bet you two-to-one, he's retelling The Lion King."

"What the hell is that?"

"An adaptation of Shakespeare's Hamlet. The future king is being prepped to one day rule by his father. But, the future king's uncle plots the king's murder, and when he succeeds, he gaslights the future king into thinking he killed his own father and the uncle banishes him from the kingdom. It's all a ploy so that the uncle can steal the throne for himself. But it's with lions, hence the title 'The Lion King'. The difference is, The Lion King has a happier ending. Hamlet was a tragedy, not unlike Romeo and Juliet."

"I know that last one you said. Romeo and Juliet was supposed to be…something romantic, right? True love and all that, it just ended in a tragedy."

"It's a cautionary tale, and you are surprisingly well-read for someone who's essentially a mall cop on the go."

Honest Dan bristled, teeth snapping over the end of his cigarette's filter. "I read what I can get my hands on and there ain't a lot out there. Not like we can just stroll down to the Boston Library and check out any books."

"Oh?" That drew Quinn's attention, and she turned her head, raising her brow as she considered the taller man. She waited and was eventually rewarded for her patience.

"…it's occupied by Super Mutants. Big, green, nasty. Dumb as hell, but just barely smart enough to set up a defense inside any place they deem their own. Oh, and did I mention that they eat people?"

"What doesn't eat people these days? I'm sure that's a more feasible list to keep track of." Quinn said nonchalantly, but the information was good to know. The library was full of man-eating monsters. So, if she wanted to check out a book, she'd either have to be sneaky as hell or she'd have to raise hell to do so.

But not now. Right now, she was watching her brother put on a one-man play that soon became two, and then three. He got the kids involved. He had them playing parts, drawing them into the story. It didn't take long for the self-appointed "Mr. Mayor" of Covenant himself to step out of his designated home to see what all the hubbub was about. Honest Dan patted her shoulder, and she dropped her cigarette to the ground. She smashed the butt with the sole of her boot.

Honest Dan took point, and she followed him. Dogmeat was close on her heels as they skulked up towards the mayor's house and slipped inside. Even Deezer was enraptured by Quill's good humours and came to hover in the pack of people. She couldn't do what Quill was doing; making that split second connection with someone she had no interests in. The kids were an exception, because they were contagious in their glee and wonder. Give her a microphone, a guitar, and a stool to sit on and she'd be fine with that kind of entertainment, though.

But Honest Dan, she understood him to a degree. He wasn't necessarily military—but he had the inklings of many a lifer she's met. She just hoped it wasn't all a front. Quinn didn't need him pissing his pants at the first signs of pressure.

Quinn stationed Dogmeat right by the front door, closing it just enough that it blocked the immediate view inside. Dogmeat could stick his head out, and act as a lookout. If he growled, then the jig was up. They'd have maybe a good twenty seconds before they're caught.

Twenty seconds of insane courage and the right amount of time to cobble together a hasty little story.

Honest Dan immediately went for a computer screen (Quill had called it a terminal). It reminded her of the outdated computers she and him had worked with up until they were nearly graduating out of high school. (Rural Montana schools hadn't exactly been rolling in excess funding in the early 2000s.) The caravan guard cursed after a few seconds.

"Dammit, it's password protected. See if you can find it around here. Some folks write it down and keep it close."

"You really think Mister Mayor is stupid enough to leave it lying around here?"

"Let's hope he might be while you're looking."

Quinn said nothing and set to work. The humble home the mayor had claimed for himself was single-story, with everything except the bathroom being in one room. And he didn't seem to have any setup for a kitchen. There were a few filing cabinets in his living space, and she dove into those.

A few hanging folders with tabs caught her eye. She pulled one at random, bringing the paperwork out and scanned the words. Her stomach clenched the more she read.

'Abigail Pond was not a synth, unfortunately. However, her death brought to us invaluable data for our screening process, even if said death had been particularly gruesome. The smell of her burning flesh had almost been appetizing when I went down to the Compound. But that was before I knew what the cause and source it had come from. I don't think I'll eat meat for a while. Still churns my stomach.'

Quinn's stomach twisted into knots, a shudder rippling down her spine. She had a name to the ghastly burnt figure she'd seen this morning now. She moved on to the next file.

'Steven Thompson was not a synth. I'll never get the image of his flayed limbs out of my head, even if the ends justified the means. He did not contain any synth components, nor the metallicized skeletal structure that Gen-3 synths possess. The Institute will not win. We'll make sure of it.'

Another case of 'not a synth'. Just how many people that walked through the gates did Covenant think were replacements?

'Talia had a breakdown when one visitor came through our gates earlier this year in February, when visitors were rare enough because of winter. She's usually more friendly with them, if a bit jumpy, but this man sent her fleeing to my home for refuge, the poor thing. Said the visitor looked like her dead brother. We took him after he left Covenant, just like our previous operations, and found that the man—he called himself David Reed—was indeed a synth. Finally, some progress, but we need more data. Doctor Chambers assures me the process is working, so I suppose we have no choice but to trust her. She's all we've got in testing for these mechanical things.'

Quinn shoved the folders back into place and moved toward the personal mahogany desk. She flipped through the drawers, shuffled through papers atop the desk, and nearly screamed in triumph when she found a slip of torn paper hidden underneath a globe display that had "password" hurriedly scrawled at the top. She crossed the room and thrusted it into Honest Dan's hands. Quinn leaned on his shoulder as he typed it out. The screen went blank for a split moment, and then flashed its acceptance. A levy of files billowed down the screen, each on the locals that called Covenant home. The ones they've been interacting with.

"Seriously? He keeps files on his own people?" Quinn scoffed under her breath, but then again, did she have much to say on the matter? The military was much the same, except…this place wasn't a unit. It had no military connections. It was a community, trying to fill in the blanks of the ghostly remains of such a thing in this world. Or at least…that was the illusion they were trying to manufacture.

"If they turn out to be more trouble than their worth, what do you think they'd do to their own if they're willing enough to torture strangers? It sure as hell won't be a pat on the head and a bag full of supplies once they get the boot out the front gates. They'd be damn lucky to get even that," Honest Dan groused bitterly, shaking his head.

"And you're willing to move heaven and earth for this one girl," Quinn prodded with a raised brow. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

"Old Man Stockton is one of the heavy hitting traders up at Bunker Hill. Good ole Mayor Orden here mentions wanting to hook up a trading route with him in an inquiry he sent to Stockton, almost immediately right after his daughter went missing from here. These people kidnap her and then have the balls to try and swindle even more out of him? Not likely."

Honest Dan snorted and dislodged Quinn from her perch on his shoulder. She took it in stride and instead leaned forward on the desk to get closer to the screen.

"There's no Doctor Chambers here in Covenant, right?"

"Not that I know of. Just Doctor Montgomery."

"Do you know what this 'Compound' is?"

He gave pause. "Wait a sec…hold on. Ah, here it is. Huntley's their runner, it looks like. He takes messages to this Compound. And in this file, yeah…I've noticed a guy fishing out on the lake a lot more since I've been here. They've probably been there before I even got here."

"Looks like there's more people to this place but they're elsewhere…"

"And the lake is hiding a facility out there." That she already knew thanks to Quill, but other pieces were coming together. Sleuthing around for more information had been Quill's idea. What pieces they've gathered together, Quinn didn't like it. The spectral figure's words echoed in her mind, and she shuddered. The more she thought on it, the more she could see something else, and she was close to realizing it—

Dogmeat began growling. She smacked Honest Dan in the shoulder and straightened. He tapped the keyboard, and the screen went dark. He hurried out of the computer chair and tugged Quinn to the couch—a nice, inviting little setting—and threw them both onto it. Honest Dan plopped his arm over the back, very nearly draping it over Quinn's shoulders and she leaned into the scratchy material just as the door swung open. They were the perfect picture of patient visitors.

Mayor Ogden jumped when he nearly trod all over Dogmeat. The German Shepherd yelped and came rushing over to Quinn, tail tucked between his legs as he sought shelter by her. She leaned forward, hands reaching, open and inviting, as she cooed soothingly at him.

"Oh! What-what are you two doing in here? Did we have a meeting set up?"

"Ya know, I thought we did, but now that I'm hearing it out loud, I think I might have mixed you up with…who runs the general store again? Parker?"

"Penny," the mayor said stiffly, crossing his arms over his portly chest. Quinn groaned.

"I'm sorry. I'm not great with names or faces. Not unless everyone's wearing nametapes. I was just telling…I'm sorry, who are you again?"

"Honest Dan," said Honest Dan, looking appropriately miffed by Quinn's sudden dismissiveness.

"Oh. I thought you were…you know what? Never mind. I was thinking of someone I met on the road. You caravan workers all look the same. You all got that…that gritty road warrior look, ya know?"

Honest Dan grunted back at her, and she turned to Mayor Ogden. She could understand body language enough to get her by. His stiff posture lightened somewhat, and the height of his shoulders drooped into a more relaxed position.

"Actually…I don't think I made any meetings with anyone. But I think I might have dreamt it. I think that's it. With someone named Lake or Pond. Something about…cooked meat. Some long pork, or some such."

Quinn stood and brushed off the front of her pants and motioned to Dogmeat. The defensiveness was back in Mayor Ogden's frame, a flash of fear etched in his eyes. "C'mon boy, let's get out of here. I have a hankering for some venison steak. Oh, don't you worry, you're gonna get your share. You've been such a good boy, yes you have!"

Quinn slipped past Mayor Ogden, who gave her a wide berth. He watched her for a long time before turning his attention back to Honest Dan. He straightened from his seat on the couch, eyes narrowed, and arms crossed over his chest.

"I don't have any news for you about this missing girl, the same as every other day you've pestered me about it! Now kindly get out of my house!"

"So?"

"Planted some seeds. Now let's hope they take the bait. Which reminds me…"

THWACK.

"OW! What the hell was that for!"

Quinn took a calm sip of her water, despite the sudden and vicious punch she'd just delivered on her brother's shoulder a few seconds ago.

"You know what it was for, you lousy cheat. You know where we need to go. What's the point in doing all this crap again?"

Quill blanched, shoulders hiking upwards apologetically.

"I…do," he said lamely, still rubbing his arm. "And we needed to leave those breadcrumbs, if we're still going to do this. And we. still are, I'm assuming."

His sister bobbed her head and slumped across the patio table that they were sat at, arms stretched out as far as she could get them. She wiggled her fingers, and something glinted from one that caught Quill's eye. It took him a moment to recognize what it was: Quinn's Marine Corps ring. Tun Tavern was etched on one side, Iwo Jima on the other, and a pretty pink tourmaline gemstone topped it all off.

She'd gotten it twelve years ago, straight out of boot camp. He remembered that hot South Carolina summer day, watching her march so smartly in unison with her graduating platoon. It seemed like a series of lifetimes ago…

"Rock, paper, scissors to see who gives up the ghost?"

"I think we both know who they're most likely going after. Just…tell me what I need to do, when that happens."

Quinn picked herself back up, straightening in her chair to stare at her brother, assessing his face. She could sense his fear, in the way his voice quavered at the edges, and the nervous bouncing of his left leg. Always the left leg, never the right. The earnest look plastered across his countenance, however, contrasted with whatever reservations he might have been feeling inside.

Quinn then glanced around them, taking note of the sidelong looks they were receiving from the locals. A lot more than usual, ever since she had had her little spy escapade with Honest Dan earlier. They weren't the same starry-eyed stares that had greeted her and Quill when they'd brought in the radstags.

"Drug them tonight. Just dump this in the water before dinner. You'll need to do it, since I most likely won't be here." Quinn tugged a makeshift pouch from her belt and handed it off to Quill. He reluctantly took it and tied it off onto his.

"It…it won't kill anyone, right?"

"Only in high enough doses. But you know I wouldn't do that."

There were words left unspoken hanging between them, so many to say and yet neither one of them knew what to say. And that was partly because they didn't have to. It was then that Quill realized that his twin was tapping on the table softly. So softly, that at first he almost believed it to be his imagination.

He glanced at her hands and watched and listened. He recognized the pattern after a few tries in deciphering it. It was morse code.

'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.'

Over and over and over again.

He hesitated before returning a reply.

'I know.'

Additional Notes: I'm not going to put Japanese, Apsáalooke, or any other language through a translator and slap it into the story, because it will most likely be wrong in many ways. I'm not a language expert, I'm not fluent in anything but English. Any languages used will be italicized to indicate it's being spoken.

Apsáalooke (ap-SAH-loo-gah) is the language of the Crow Tribe, which is spoken by about 11,000 people. Sadly, like a lot of languages spoken by the many indigenous tribes, it faces the threat of dying out. So, yeah. The more you know!

Lastly, if anyone knows how clingy a German Shepherd is, you're the real ones. They just love being snuggly and it melts my heart.