Author's Note: It was pointed out to me by a guest reviewer that sometimes it was difficult in the story to determine who was talking when I have two or more people having a conversation. I looked it over and saw a couple of parts where they may have had a point. I will try my best to make sure everyone knows who is saying what in the future. Enjoy, and reviews are always welcome.
(Old Mormon Fort, 2 hours later)
Amata struggled to open her eyes. Her head was pounding, and she felt a bit queasy. Once she got her eyes open, and once her vision cleared, she saw something white. 'Where the hell am I, and why does my head hurt?' she thought. The only thing she knew for a fact was that she was lying down. She turned her head slightly to the left, and saw two people talking to each other. Julie Farkas and The King were talking. Amata tried to get up when the two of them noticed her. Julie walked over. "Don't try to get up. Please lie back down," she said. Amata ignored her and sat up, regretting it instantly when she felt the world start to spin. She looked like she was about to fall off of the cot she was laying on, but Julie caught her and got her to lie back down.
"I warned you not to get up," Julie said. Amata held a hand over her eyes and asked weakly, "Where-where am I?" "You're at the Old Mormon Fort, sweetie," Julie said. 'Well, that answers one question,' Amata thought. "What happened? Why does my head hurt?" The King, who had been waiting near the entrance of the tent, spoke up. "You were attacked and knocked unconscious. Couple of my boys saw it and told me. Told 'em to get you here on the double." "How long was I out?" "It's been a couple of hours, at least," Julie said. "King," Amata said, "if your boys saw it, then who attacked me?" The King hesitated. "You know what," he said, "you need your rest. I'll, uh, I'll come back later." The King made a turn to walk out of the tent when Amata said, "King, wait." He turned around.
"You said you wanted to speak to my husband about some business. Now, I could not tell him, and even if you got to him first, I have ways to dissuade him. He may be a bit hard-headed, but he's also very protective of me. I know him, and if he thinks that I'm afraid of you guys, there's no way he'll want anything to do with you. I mean, my memory is a bit fuzzy, but maybe I'll suddenly remember that it was one of your guys who attacked me. He listens to me more than anyone else. You give me what I want, and you'll get what you want." There was no expression on his face for a couple of seconds, but then he gave her a small smile. "So that's how it's gonna be, huh?" Amata just smirked at him. "I knew there was a reason that I liked you." He sighed. "All right, before I tell you, know this: I have the person responsible being guarded, so he's not going anywhere. You have to promise me that you'll stay here and rest, because Julie thinks that you have a concussion. Ok?" Amata nodded. "It was Pacer."
Amata started to seethe in anger, but calmed back down a bit when her head started pounding. "Pacer, that idiot who was rude to me at your headquarters, he attacked me?" The King nodded. "I'm gonna fucking kill him." Amata tried to get up, but Julie pushed her back down. "You're not going anywhere. You have a concussion. You need to rest," Julie said. "She's right. Like I said, he isn't going anywhere, and you just promised me you'd stay here. You told me before that your husband was busy. Do you know where he is? If he's anywhere in Freeside, I can have my boys find him."
Amata brought her left arm up to check her pip-boy, when she remembered that she had left it at the 38. 'Fuck,' she thought, as she brought her left arm back down to her side. 'Brilliant job, Amata. You just had to prove to Mark that you didn't need him to watch your back, and then you go ahead and get knocked unconscious. He's probably on his way back here now, thinking you're dead or something since you didn't answer him. Really, brilliant fucking job.' "No, King, he's not in Freeside. He should be back at some point tonight, though." "Ok," said the King, "I'll post my boys at both gates to Freeside, and when he gets back, we'll get him. I just need to know what he looks like."
"Um, he's about 6' 2", wearing green armor, has shaggy brown hair, and he's got a scar on the left side of his head. Oh, and he's traveling with a few other people." "Thanks," he said, "I'll put the word out." "Uh, King," Julie said, "I don't mean to be rude, but I don't want her over-exerting herself right now." "Sorry Julie," he said, looking at her. He looked back to Amata. "I'm gonna go now, but I've got a couple of my guys guarding this tent, and I've told them to protect you by any means necessary, ok?" "Thank you, King," Amata said. "Think nothing of it, little missy." With that, he turned and left the tent.
(Same time, 2 hours from Freeside)
The walk back to Freeside was mostly quiet, but in a bad way. The tension in the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Mark and Cass were kept as far away from each other as possible, with the rest of them acting as a buffer. Arcade tried to break the silence a couple of times, but when no one responded, he gave up. Mark looked at Cass with a scowl, but she just kept staring straight ahead. 'How dare she tell me that I don't know when something's wrong with Amata,' he thought. 'None of them have any goddamn idea what I've been through, all the shit I've done, only to almost lose her. I'll be damned if I lose her now.' As he continued to walk, he drifted back to what happened after he was kicked out of the vault, the last time he thought he lost her.
(Megaton, three days after getting thrown out of the Vault)
Mark was awoken by someone knocking on the door to his house in Megaton. He snorted, and tried to turn over, only to fall on the floor. He rubbed his eyes and looked around, and he realized he wasn't in his bedroom. He had passed out on the couch, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and his underwear. He rubbed his head, as it was pounding like hell, and his mouth was dry. He checked the time on his pip-boy: 10:43 am. There was another knock on the door, followed by someone speaking. "Hey, kid, you alive in there?" It was Sheriff Simms. "Go 'way Simms," Mark said groggily as he lifted himself off of the floor. "Are you alright, kid? No one's seen you in three days, and people are starting to worry, myself included. Can you open the door?" "I said go away, Simms. M'fine." "Kid, either open the door or I'll bust it down. Your choice."
Mark sighed and staggered over to the door. He opened the door, and saw Sheriff Simms. "See, Simms, I'm fine, now please go away." Mark went to close the door, but Simms held it open. "Kid, you're not fine. Can I come in?" Mark rolled his eyes, and motioned for him to come in. Simms looked around the house. There was a lot of empty beer bottles scattered around the room, some of them broken. It also reeked of alcohol. He also noticed that Wadsworth was motionless in a corner. "What's happened to the robot?" "Shh," Mark said, putting a finger to his lips while trying to contain his laughter, "he's sleeeeping." Mark stumbled as he made his way back to the couch. Mark had been drinking heavily since he returned from the vault, and Wadsworth complained so much about the mess that Mark put him in hibernation mode.
"Kid, are you drunk?" Simms asked, looking at Mark, whose hair was disheveled, and whose eyes were bloodshot. "Technically I'm hung over, since I haven't had a drink in oh, five, six hours." "Mark," Simms said, sitting on the stairs, "no one's seen or heard from you for three days. Three days ago you said you were going back to the vault. What happened?" Mark looked for a bottle of beer around him with something in it, but found none. "Didn't you hear Sheriff?" Mark said sarcastically, waving his arms demonstratively, "I'm a hero! I saved the fucking vault! Amata, my best friend, is now in charge, taking over for her psychopathic father! Everything's fucking great!" "Um, correct me if I'm wrong, kid, but from what you've told me about the place, isn't it a good thing that your friend took over?" "Oh yeah, Sheriff," Mark said, suddenly frowning and pointing a finger at Simms, "you would think that, wouldn't you? You wanna know what I got for saving their collective ass? Exile. My best friend of twenty fucking years exiled me from my own damn home, because I'm the reason the vault went to shit in the first place."
"So you think that she was wrong, and that she should have let you stay?" "No, Sheriff, that's not fucking it. In fact, it's the exact opposite. She said she didn't blame me or my dad for what happened, and she was god damn right that I had to leave. Me being there was only going to make things worse." "So, did you tell her that you understood why you couldn't stay?" "No Sheriff, I didn't. I just fucking went off on her, saying everything short of telling her to go fuck herself." "Couldn't you go back and just apologize to her? I'm sure she knows that you were just angry and needed some time to think about things." Mark started to laugh. "After the way I acted? Firstly, she's probably already changed the door code, and even if I got through that, she'd probably have me shot on sight. Fuck, she'd probably want to do it herself." Mark picked up and empty beer bottle and threw it at the wall, and it shattered on impact.
"So let me just see if I understand what's going on," Simms said. "You went back to the vault, and saved it from descending into any further anarchy. Then your best friend, the girl you won't stop talking about, exiles you from your home, even though she doesn't blame you or your old man for what happened. You have an argument with her, and then you come back here, and for the past three days, you've been locked in here, drinking yourself into a stupor. To top it all off, you're angry, not because she kicked you out when you thought you deserved to stay, but because you knew she was right, and you think that your relationship with her is over. Did I miss anything?"
"Nope, that's about the gist of it, Simms," Mark said as he got up and got some water out of the fridge. Simms started to chuckle. "You think this is funny, Sheriff?" Simms didn't answer, offering a question of his own. "Kid, are you in love with her?" "It doesn't fucking matter, Sheriff. Nothing's ever gonna happen," Mark said as he rubbed his eyes. "I think it does. If she didn't mean anything to you, then you wouldn't have locked yourself in here. Do you love her?" Mark didn't say anything. "Mark-" "YES, I'M IN LOVE WITH HER," Mark yelled. "She's- she's perfect, she's the only girl I wanted to be with, and I royally fucked up." He started to cry. "My one ch-chance at love, and now it's g-g-gone." Simms looked at Mark sympathetically. If there was any proof that God existed, it was evident in the fact that the mighty Lone Wanderer was sitting in front of him, half-drunk, and bawling like a baby over a woman.
"Kid, I can't tell you what to do," Simms said as he grabbed his Chinese Assault Rifle and walked to the door. "These days, true love is hard to find, and keeping it is even harder. If she cares for you like you care for her, then she'll forgive you. Kid, you're lucky. She's sitting safely in a vault, and not wandering out in the wastes where she could get killed." Simms opened the door. "You've only got one life. Don't make it one of regret." He paused. "I'll, uh, I'll let everyone know you're alive. You don't have to come out, but at least promise me you'll take a shower. You smell like you took a bath in all of that beer." With that, Simms went outside and closed the door, leaving Mark alone with his thoughts.
Mark just sat on the couch, holding the bottle of water in his right hand. Despite what Simms had said, he still didn't think he could repair his relationship with her. He was pretty sure he had burned that bridge. 'I need to get the hell out of town,' he thought. 'Maybe the Brotherhood has some mission that I could help them with.' He went to the HAM Radio on the side table next to the couch and tuned it to the Brotherhood's frequency.
"This is the Lone Wanderer calling the Brotherhood. I repeat, this is the Lone Wanderer calling the Brotherhood, over" There was static for a few seconds, when someone answered. "Go ahead Wanderer. This is Scribe Marquez, over" "Hey, uh, Marquez, is Sentinel Lyons around? Over." "Yeah," Marquez said, "I think she's around here somewhere, hang on. Over" Mark waited for a few minutes, before someone came back on the other end. "This is Sentinel Lyons. Go ahead Mark. Over." "Hey, Sarah, how are you doing? Over." "I'm fine. How about you? Over." "I've uh, I've been better. Sarah, listen, does the Brotherhood have any missions planned right now? I need something to keep my mind occupied right now. Over"
"Well, as a matter of fact, my father has organized a trip to the west coast so we can try to reconnect with the other chapters out there. You're more than welcome to join us. Over." "That sounds great, Sarah. When're you guys leaving? Over." "In about four, five days. We're still figuring out the details, but I'll let you know when we have specifics. Over." "Thanks, Sarah. I'll be here. Over and out." Mark leaned back in the sofa, rubbed his face, and groaned. "I'm so sorry, Amata."
(Back to the present)
By the time they saw the east gate to Freeside, it was close to 7:30. Once Mark saw the gate, he broke into a dead sprint. It took the others a couple seconds to realize what he was doing, and had to start running to keep up with him. At this point, there was only one thing on his mind: making sure that Amata was alright. 'Hang on, baby. I'm on my way.'
I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. To all of you who celebrate it, have a happy Easter. Until next time, and reviews are always welcomed and appreciated.