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"8…9…10." Mark rang the bell, signaling the end of the fight. "Alright you two, fights over." It had taken about twenty-five minutes or so, but Boone and Christine had beaten the crap out of each other. It had been interesting to see the two of them fight. Boone seemed to be a brawler, while Christine opted for more of a finesse approach. There were points earlier in the fight where Mark had nearly gotten to ten when one of them had fallen, but either through stubbornness, or sheer force of will, they continued to fight. Probably a bit of both.
Blood had been spilled, copious amounts of sweat had fallen, and Mark thought that he had seen a tooth fly out, although he may have just been imagining it. Arcade, while initially reluctant about the fight, actually seemed to settle in and enjoy it some. He even told Mark about what he knew about boxing from before the war, including some famous fights. When Mark asked him how he knew about them, he told Mark about how the Followers had established their headquarters in the former Los Angeles Public Library in the Boneyard, and their books and databases were still somewhat intact. He had studied there for a while, and read about a multitude of subjects, including pre-war sports.
In the end, there was no winner, which was what Mark had wanted in the first place. They had both landed one final punch on each other at the same time, knocking both of them to the ground. Boone was sitting against the ropes, using them for support. Christine was lying on her stomach near the center of the ring, trying to crawl to the ropes, but her efforts were unsuccessful. Arcade grabbed his medical bag and got in the ring, first checking Christine, and then Boone. After he had done his initial assessments, Mark joined him in the ring.
"What's the word, Arcade?" "Well," he said as he held a cloth to Boone's mouth, "there are multiple cuts and bruises, and Boone here lost a tooth, but they'll both survive." "Wonderful. Thank you for your assistance, Arcade." He then turned his attention to Boone and Christine. "You two get the anger out of your systems?" He got a weak "uh huh" from Christine, while only getting a groan from Boone.
"Good. Now I expect that what happened last night will never happen again. Oh, and I have good news for the both of you. Neither of you will face Amata's wrath over last night. She agreed that this would suffice as punishment enough for the both of you. Consider yourselves lucky on that front. Arcade, get them cleaned up, if you wouldn't mind. I expect all of you to be in the kitchen in one hour so we can tell our story." That elicited painful groans from the two combatants. Mark then hopped out of the ring, unlocked the door, and headed towards the elevator.
(20 minutes earlier, Presidential Suite)
"Wait, they're doing what now?" Amata and Veronica were sitting across from each other at the kitchen table, eating breakfast. Abby was off to the side, practicing the punches that Veronica had shown her. "You heard me, Veronica," Amata said, pointing a fork in Veronica's direction. "They're currently beating each other up in a boxing match to get the anger out of their systems, and partially as punishment for their actions last night." "And this was Mark's idea?" "Yes, but he was kind enough to run it by me first, and I okayed it. He thought I may not like it, due to its violent nature, but I agreed with him that this was the safest way for them to do it."
"You couldn't think of any other way? I mean, I agree that something needed to be done, but I kinda like Christine's face as it is." "Auntie Ronnie," Abby called out, stopping punching for a moment to catch her breath, "how am I doing?" "You're doing great, kid," Veronica said, without looking away from Amata. "You're not even looking!" Abby complained, huffing and putting her hands on her hips. "No, I am. I can see you in my peripheral vision. Really nice form on that last jab. Keep going." Abby rolled her eyes and continued to practice. Amata snickered. "Well, to answer your question, can you think of a better way?" Veronica thought for a few moments. "Uh, no, not really. Ok, maybe this is the safest way."
"Yeah. Mark and I talked last night. We need to be able to work as a team. If they are continually hostile to each other, that can't happen. We need to be able to focus on the mission at hand, not whether the two of them are going to shoot each other. It would only be a matter of time before Mark kicks them out or shoots them, or both, for being a hindrance. Since everyone believes him to be in charge of this group, or team, or whatever we are, he sees it as his responsibility to make sure we can at least tolerate each other." She took a sip of water and grinned. "I kind of like it when he takes charge." Veronica sensed an opportunity to mess with Amata. "Oh, and does your liking when he takes charge extend to the, uh, bedroom, in any way?" Veronica said, smiling and waggling her eyebrows. Amata blushed. "Veronica! I am not talking about my," she lowered her voice so Abby wouldn't hear, and leaned over the table slightly, "about my sex life in front of Abby."
"Fine, fine. We'll talk about it tonight, when Abby's in bed." "That's not what I-" Veronica began to laugh. Amata groaned and covered her face with her hands. "I hate you so much." "Oh, you know you love me." Amata was saved from any further embarrassment for the moment when Abby came over and tugged on Veronica's sleeve. "How'd I do, Auntie Ronnie?" She had a hopeful look on her face. "You did great, kid. We'll show your dad later, and then we'll see if you can start punching things." Abby smiled and pumped her fist. "Yes! I'm gonna be the best puncher EVER!" Amata and Veronica both laughed. "Well, Abby, I am currently the best puncher ever," Veronica said, "and I plan on it staying that way for a long, long, time." Abby stuck out her tongue at Veronica, who responded in kind. Amata stood up and put her dish in the sink.
"Ok, children, that's enough." "Hey, I am not a child," Veronica said indignantly. "At most I'm a child at heart." "Yeah, yeah, if you say so," Amata said. "Abby, I think you need a bath. You smell a little from all that working out." "Aww, come on, I don't smell that bad. Why do I need a bath? I took one yesterday." "Well, I believe your daddy would like it if you smelled nice. I also believe that he has a present for you, but he doesn't usually give presents to little girls who don't take their baths." Abby looked gleeful at the thought of getting a present. "A present? For me?" "Yup, but since you don't want to take a bath, I guess I'll tell him not to give it to you." Abby got a panicked look on her face. "No, no, I'll go, I'll go. See? I'm going right now." She then dashed out of the room and into the hallway.
"A little reverse psychology. Nice. But, uh, what's this present? Mark didn't say anything to me or Abby earlier," Veronica inquired. "We talked about it last night. He'll give it to her when Craig and Christine are done and while they're getting patched up. As for what it is," Amata said as she walked to the doorway, "you'll just have to wait and see."
(30 minutes later/10 minutes after the fight ended)
Mark, Amata, Abby, and Veronica were gathered in Mark and Amata's room. Abby was sitting on the bed, bouncing up and down, waiting for her present. "Well, Abby, are you ready for your present?" Mark asked. Abby nodded eagerly. "Yes, daddy. I even took a bath, so I'm all nice and clean." Mark smiled. "Yes, I can tell. Mommy told me, and I'm glad you're listening to her like a big girl." Mark squatted down to get to Abby's eye level. "Now, as I understand it, while I was away, you beat mommy in a shooting contest."
"Yup," Abby said proudly, "I beat her good." That got a chuckle out of the adults in the room. "I'm proud of you Abby. You're continuing a proud tradition. Mommy could never beat me, either." That earned Mark a light slap on the back of the head. "What fantasy world are you living in where that's true?" Amata asked. "Ok, so she beat me sometimes." "You're damn right," Amata said under her breath. Mark stood up and walked over to the bookcase behind the desk, taking the BB gun off the top shelf. He looked at it with a touch of nostalgia.
"You know, Abby, my dad gave this to me on my tenth birthday, and it really meant a lot to me. He took the time to find the missing parts to make it fully functional, even though the parts were hard to find. Your mom and I, we had a lot of fun shooting this thing. As much as this meant to me as a gift back then, your mom has given me three gifts that mean a lot more to me than this ever did." Abby cocked her head to the side, a confused look on her face. "What did she give you, daddy?"
Mark looked lovingly at Amata, and then back to Abby. "She gave me three things that are irreplaceable. She gave me her love, she gave me, or will give me, actually, the child she is currently carrying…" He squatted back down. "…and she gave me you, Abby." Amata and Veronica teared up. "That's why I'm giving this to you. It's the closest thing to a family heirloom that I have." He handed it to Abby, who looked at it with wide eyes. "Enjoy it, Abby. I hope that it brings you as much joy as it did for your mom and me. Just be careful with it. I don't want you to shoot your eye out, kid." Mark stood up and stepped back a bit, and Amata nestled into his right side, his arm wrapping around her waist. He then gave her a kiss. Veronica walked close to the two of them. "You got yourself a hell of a man, Amata," she said quietly. "I certainly do," Amata said, resting her head on Mark's shoulder.
They looked at Abby, who was still staring at the gun. "Well, Abby," Amata said, "what do you say to your dad?" Abby remained motionless for a few more moments, before she tossed the gun on the bed, and then got up and ran out of the room crying. "Abby-" the three of them called out at the same time, but she did not return. They then heard a door slam. Mark looked at Amata, the confusion evident on his face. "Was it something that I said?" Amata sighed. "No, Mark. While you were gone, she told me that she used to have one, and you giving it to her may have triggered flashbacks to when she got the first one from her birth parents, and probably when they were killed. It may have gotten stolen or lost. I should've realized that this might happen last night when you told me what you were going to do."
Mark sat down on the bed and stared at the ground. "Great. I fucked up already. I just wanted to do something nice for her, and all I did was make her re-live the worst day of her life." Amata sat down next to him. "Mark, you didn't mess up." "Amata, she ran out of here crying because of something that I did. How can you say I didn't mess up?"
"Mark, what you did was give her a gift. She's still trying to get over her parents being killed, which you did not have a hand in. If it wasn't the gun, something else could've set her off. She hasn't talked about what happened to her birth parents, and until she does, things like this are going to occur." Mark looked at her. "I know that I didn't kill her parents, but right now, I just-" He clenched his hands tightly into fists and scowled "-I just want to kill the bastard or bastards who did for hurting her."
"I know, Mark. I do too. The only thing that I don't understand is why something like this didn't happen when we had our contest the other day." "I think that I may have an answer to that, or at least a theory," Veronica said, sitting on the desk. "Like you said, Amata, Mark gave it to her, thereby making it hers. Before, it was just a BB gun that she just happened to be holding. I don't know a whole lot about psychology or anything, but I think that may be the reason, or pretty close. She also may feel guilty about losing the one her birth parents gave her."
"Thank you, Veronica. That actually does makes sense," Amata said. She then put a comforting hand on Mark's shoulder. "Mark, I think it's time to go see how good we are at being parents." Mark sighed. "This isn't going to be easy, is it?" Amata shook her head. "No, Mark, it's not. We're her parents now, and we have a responsibility to help her through this, and all the rough times she may go through." They both got up. "Did you guys, um, want me to come with you?" Veronica asked, glancing out the doorway, the concern for Abby evident on her face. Mark and Amata looked at each other for a couple of moments. "We appreciate the show of support, Veronica, but Amata and I need to do this on our own, at least this time," Mark said.
"Oh. Okay," Veronica said, looking a bit crestfallen at not being able to help her niece. Mark, having noticed this, said, "I'll tell you what though, Veronica. When she goes through puberty, you and Amata can deal with all the problems that that brings. I had enough issues dealing with it when Amata went through it. Talk about your feral beasts." Veronica laughed, while Amata glared at him. "Ok, Mark, sounds like a deal." Amata grabbed Mark by the ear and led him out of the room. "I'll show you a feral beast." "Ow, ow, ow, Amata, I was kidding! I was kidding! I thought you could take a joke!"
Amata released Mark as they got to Abby's room. ED-E was floating outside the door. They could hear her crying. Mark reached for the handle, but Amata smacked his hand away. "Mark, we can't just go in there. We have to at least knock first." "Why? We know she's in there." Amata rolled her eyes. "Because it's her room. We have to afford her some courtesy. Remember when we were kids, and Butch would tease me so much that I would get upset and go cry in my room?" "Yeah, and I would come and make sure you were okay." "Well, you knocked on my door first, didn't you? Because you respected my privacy?" Mark ran a hand through his hair as he recalled those days. "Oh, yeah, right, I did."
Amata knocked a couple of times on the door. "Abby, sweetheart, are you okay?" "GO AWAY!" came a yell from inside the room. "Abby, something's obviously wrong. We're here to help." "I SAID GO AWAY!" Amata looked disheartened. "Alright," Mark said, "we tried it your way." Mark knocked on the door. "Abby, we respected your privacy by knocking, but we're asserting our authority as parents and coming in anyway." "Mark, no-" Amata tried to stop him, but he opened the door. The light was off in the room, but there was still some light coming in from the window. Mark turned on the light and saw Abby curled up in the fetal position, facing away from them.
They sat on either side of her, so to avoid looking at them, she turned to lie on her stomach, burying her face in the pillow, continuing to cry all the while. Amata put a hand on Abby's back and rubbed it gently. "Abby, we want to help you, but you need to tell us what's wrong." "NO!" came a muffled reply. Mark decided to be a bit more direct. "Abby, this wouldn't have anything to do with your parents being killed, would it?" Her crying intensified. Mark and Amata looked at each other. Amata motioned for him to continue. "Abby, I know that it's still a fresh wound for you, and you think that you can just bury it away deep inside you where it won't bother you, but eventually, it will come out." She did not respond, so he continued.
"Look, Abby, I'm sorry if giving you the gun reminded you of your parents. Your mom told me that you had so much fun with it, that I thought you might enjoy it as a gift. I didn't know that your birth parents had given you one. If you don't want it, you don't have to take it. I won't be upset if you don't." Abby stopped crying somewhat and rolled over to her side to face Mark. Her eyes were bloodshot, and there were tear tracks running down her face. "It- it's not the gun, well, not entirely." "Then what is it, Abby?" Amata asked, on the verge of tears herself. "Please, tell us. We can't help you if we don't know what the problem is."
"I'm scared, okay? I'm- I'm just scared. I'm a big scared baby. I'm not a big girl." She buried her head back in the pillow. "Abby, you are not a baby," Mark said, grabbing one of her hands to try to comfort her. "Admitting that you have fears is a very grown-up thing to do." "He's right, sweetie," Amata said. "Having fears does not mean that you're a baby. We all have fears. I have fears, your daddy has fears, your Auntie Cass and Auntie Ronnie have fears. Does that make us or them babies?" "No," came a muffled reply. Mark and Amata looked at each other for a couple moments. Mark nodded. "Maybe," Amata continued, "maybe it would help if we each told you one of our fears, then maybe, if you want to, you can tell us yours. Would that be okay with you?" Abby looked at Amata. "I-I guess."
Amata smiled. "Ok. I'll go first." She closed her eyes and tried to steel herself. "One of my biggest fears is that one day, I'm gonna wake up back in the vault, and this weird, crazy, wonderful life that I've had out here with your dad, will have all just been a dream." Tears fell down her face. She hadn't even admitted this to Mark when they were by themselves in Goodsprings. Abby sat up and gave Amata a hug. "Please don't cry mommy." Amata sniffed a couple of times. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I just can't help it." Mark had tears in his own eyes as he watched his girls hold one another. That thought brought a smile to his face. His girls. It sounded perfect.
Mark reached over and pinched Amata on the leg. "Ow! Mark, what was that for?" "Proving that you aren't in a dream. You can't feel pain in a dream. This weird, crazy, wonderful life with me? It is one hundred percent real, baby," Mark said with a sly smile. Amata chuckled, and wiped away her tears. "You always did know how to cheer me up." "You know it." Mark then motioned for Amata to hand Abby over to him. "Abby, I think your dad wants a turn to hold you. Thank you for the hug, though. I feel much better." "You're sure?" Abby asked. "Yes, I am extremely sure." Amata handed her over to Mark.
"Ok, Abby, now since your mom admitted one of her fears, it is only fair that I do the same. My biggest fear is that your mom, at some point, would realize that she doesn't actually love me." "Mark, that is never going to happen. Not now, not tomorrow, not ever. I may want to strangle you sometimes, but I will never, ever stop loving you. Besides, I've invested too much time and effort into you. It'd be stupid of me to let some other woman take advantage of my work," Amata said, that last part a bit tongue-in-cheek. Mark chuckled, and they were both glad to see a small smile on Abby's face. "I know, but fears aren't always rational." Mark looked Abby square in the eyes. "Tell me Abby, do you think it was brave for your mom and I to admit our fears?" Abby nodded. "So, can you be brave for us and tell us why you're scared?"
Abby looked down at the bed, seemingly still hesitant. "Abby," Amata said, "we're not going to judge you. We're only going to listen. There is nothing that you could say that would make us think any less of you." Abby took a couple of calming breaths. "I-I'm scared of getting you guys killed." Mark and Amata looked at each other, both sporting confused looks. "Abby," Mark said, "why do you think that you're going to get us killed?" She didn't answer, burying her face in Mark's chest. Amata spoke. "Abby, do you think that because you think it was your fault that your parents were killed?" They got a muffled, "Yes."
"Abby, I'm sure that whatever happened, it wasn't your fault," Amata said. She looked at Amata. "Yes it is! I'm the reason that they're dead!" "Abby, look at me, please," Mark said. Abby looked in Mark's eyes. "Abby, you are not going to get us killed. Do you know how I know that?" The young girl shook her head. "I know because…well, tell me Abby, have you heard of the guy they call "The Courier?"" Amata suddenly realized what Mark was doing. Abby smiled. "Yeah! My, um, other daddy-" "Your birth father, sweetheart," Amata interrupted. "Right, well, he said that the Courier saves towns, and killed a bad man, and not even bullets could stop him! He's like a superhero!"
"Right, a superhero. Well, Abby, I have a secret that I want to share with you. Are you ready?" Abby nodded. He leaned in close to her. "I'm the Courier," he said in a loud whisper. Abby gasped, and her eyes widened. "Really?" "Yup. I did save a couple towns, and I did kill a bad man. You know why I killed that bad man?" She shook her head. "I did that because that bad man threatened your mother," he said, indicating Amata. "You see, Abby, there are two big rules to being a superhero. The first is that you must always protect the innocent. The second rule is that a superhero is never allowed to make promises that they know they can't keep."
"I swore to your mother that I would never let anything bad happen to her or our family if it was in my power to prevent it." Amata smiled. "He's right, Abby. He has never let anything bad happen to me, and I know that he never will. He is my hero, my knight in shining armor, and he always will be. He has come to my rescue many, many times." "So, Abby," Mark said, "When I tell you that you are not going to get us killed, you know it's true, because, as a superhero, I can't make a promise that I can't keep. OK?" Abby nodded and gave Mark a big hug. "This is so cool! My daddy's a superhero!" Mark and Amata laughed. "Yeah, he is, Abby."
"Now, Abby," Mark said, his voice becoming serious, "I know that you are a brave girl. I believe that you are brave enough to tell us…what happened to your parents." Abby's face fell, and tears were threatening to come out again. "Abby," Amata said, once again rubbing the girl's back, "I know that it hurts right now, but there is a saying that time heals all wounds, but those wounds need to be treated. If you don't talk about it, it won't heal. It'll just grow bigger. Please, tell us. Let us help you heal that wound. Like I said earlier, we're not going to judge you. Be the brave girl that we all know you are." She took one of Abby's hands in her own as Mark continued to hold her. Abby looked at Mark, and then Amata, who were both giving her reassuring smiles. "Ok," Abby said, "it happened like this…"
(9 days ago, 9:44 AM)
The day had started out like any other for the Fields family, a small family of three. There was the father, Christopher, or Chris Fields. Chris, 35, weighed about 195 lbs., was about 6' 1" tall, with short brown hair, brown eyes, and a two-inch scar on his right forearm that was from an incident with a bighorner in his teens. There was the mother, Hannah Fields, formerly Hannah Knight. Hannah, 31, weighed about 150 lbs., and measured 5' 8" tall. She had long blonde hair and had green eyes. Finally, there was the daughter, Abigail Fields. Abigail, 7, weighed just under 40 lbs., and was about 3' 9" tall. Her appearance was a nice mixture of her parents. She had Hannah's green eyes and blonde hair, but her facial features more closely resembled Chris'.
They lived in a small shack out near an old air force base, which was currently occupied by the group known as the "Boomers." Threats of death from heavy ordinance kept travelers and raiders alike away from the area. The shack they lived in was only one large room, containing three beds, a table, and a few chairs. There was a refrigerator that functioned thanks to an old generator that they kept outside, but ran the wires in from outside. That generator also powered the light hanging from the ceiling, and the hot plate that they used to cook their meals. They also had a couple of brahmin that they primarily used for milk in a pen near the house.
They had told Abby a bit about their lives before she was born. They were both from the NCR, Hannah from Shady Sands and Chris from The Hub. Hannah had come to the area eight years prior, wanting to see New Vegas. When she realized that she didn't have enough caps to get in, she instead volunteered her services with the Followers of the Apocalypse, assisting the doctors with whatever they needed. While she was not adept with medicine, she had a very kind bedside manner and provided a sympathetic ear to the patients. She found the work very rewarding. She had been there for three months when she met Chris.
She had been on break, sitting against the wall that separated Freeside from outer Vegas, looking out over the open desert. She noticed a caravan passing by, and she caught the eye of a guy with brown hair that she thought looked kind of cute. He came over to talk to her, not noticing his caravan leaving him behind. They got to talking and agreed to meet at the Crimson Caravan Compound later that night. That began a whirlwind romance for the pair, with Chris asking Hannah to marry him two weeks later. She resigned from the Followers, joining Chris on his travels. Eventually, after learning that Hannah was pregnant, they found a place to settle down. As Abby grew, Chris continued his work with the Crimson Caravan, staying on routes that kept him in or close to the Mojave. Hannah stayed at home, raising Abby and tending to the brahmin.
That fateful day found Abby shooting the BB gun she had gotten for her last birthday at a tarp they had hung for her to shoot at. Hannah had just brought in some milk in a bucket and put it in the fridge. She watched Abby shoot the gun, Chris standing behind her, both of them smiling. They had tried over the years to give Abby a brother or sister, but it was not meant to be, so they decided to be happy with the daughter that they had.
Chris gave Hannah a kiss, and then went over to kiss Abby, saying that he had to leave to pick up his payment from the Crimson Caravan for his last delivery and to get the order for his next one. Abby pouted. "Aww, do you have to? Can't you stay and shoot with me?" That elicited a chuckle from both of the adults. "Abby, sweetheart," Hannah said, "you know that your dad has a job to do." "No," Chris said, "it's alright, Hannah, honey, they can wait another hour or so. My darling daughter wants me to shoot with her. Who am I to deny such a request?" Abby's face lit up. "Yay!" she exclaimed.
A half hour or so had passed, father and daughter shooting the BB gun while Hannah watched. That was when they heard a noise from outside. Chris walked over to the window and looked outside at their brahmin pen. When he looked outside, he quickly turned around, a look of fear on his face. "Chris, what is it?" Hannah asked, becoming increasingly worried. "Raiders. Take Abby, go behind the bookshelf in the corner. I'll try and get them to leave." He kissed her and Abby quickly. "Whatever happens, I love the both of you." Hannah grabbed a 9 mm pistol and Abby, causing Abby to drop her gun. "Daddy, what's going on?" Abby asked as her mother took her behind the tall bookshelf.
Chris moved the bookshelf as close to the corner as possible. "Abby," Chris said, the worry evident his voice, "whatever happens, I need you to stay quiet, Ok? Can you do that for me?" Abby, not used to seeing her father act this way, but not wanting to disappoint him, said, "yes, daddy." That was when the door burst open. Hannah held Abby close, and kept her hand over Abby's mouth, just in case. They listened as Chris tried to tell the raiders to take whatever they wanted and leave, but they laughed at him, and there was a gunshot, apparently the one that ended Chris' life. They heard one of the raiders tell the others to loot the place. Fortunately, they did not look behind the bookshelf.
"Alright, we're done here. Torch the place." They heard the door close, and then they began to smell smoke. Hannah quickly moved the bookcase away from them, toppling it. "Abby, we've got to get out of here." She looked out a window. The raiders were heading towards the air force base. The smoke became thicker as the house started to become consumed by the flames. Hannah grabbed a sack of caps they kept hidden in a hole they had dug under a floorboard. She ran towards the door, Abby right behind her. Seeing Chris' body nearly drove her to tears, but she had to be strong for Abby. She opened the door. Abby, having noticed her father's body, stopped running and tried to shake him to try to wake him up. "Daddy? Daddy, wake up!" Hannah grabbed her hand. "Abby come on, we have to go! We can't do anything for him now."
Seeing her mother in a state of near-hysterics told her that this was a serious situation. Then she realized something. "Mommy, my gun! I have to get it!" "Abby, no, we don't have time!" "No, I want my gun!" Abby screamed, tears in her eyes. Hannah reluctantly relented. "Okay, Abby. Stay here. I'll get it." She ran back over towards where Abby had last had the gun, trying to wave away the smoke. Unfortunately, the roof partially collapsed right onto Hannah. "Mommy!" Abby screamed, running back in to get to her mother.
The section of roof had collapsed right onto Hannah's midsection and legs, appearing to have crushed the lower half of her body. She was coughing up blood, and she looked near death. Abby ran up and tried to lift the wood, but it was too heavy, even with Hannah helping her. Hannah coughed. "Abby, go. Run. Take the pistol and get out of here." "No! I'm not leaving you!" Hannah smiled at Abby and had tears in her eyes. She stroked Abby's face. "Abby, my big girl. I'm not gonna make it. You need to go. It'll be fine, sweetheart. I'll be with your dad again. My only regret is that I won't be around to see you grow up. Take the pistol and go, Abby. Please." Abby was crying. "Mommy, please, no, I need you! Please don't leave me!" The walls began to break down, and shards of wood were falling from the roof. "Abby, please go. Just know that your dad and I love you with all our hearts, and we will always be with you in spirit."
Hannah's body went limp as the life left her. "Mommy! No! Mommy, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry." She shook her mother's body, but to no avail. Seeing no other options, she grabbed the pistol and ran out of the open doorway, right before the roof and walls finally gave in. Abby ran, seeing the brahmin dead in their pen as she went. Once she got about fifty feet away, she turned to see that all that was left of her home was a flaming pile of wood. She looked around and saw New Vegas in the distance. She had heard her parents talk about it sometimes. Having no other options, remembering that going near the air force base was certain death, she started towards New Vegas, leaving all she knew behind.
(Present Day)
As Abby finished her story, all three of them were in tears, and they were now in a three-way hug. They stayed like that for a minute or so before Amata spoke. "Abby, I am so sorry that you had to see that. It must've been horrific for you." She gave Abby a kiss on the top of her head. "Abby," Mark said, trying to compose himself, "what happened, it wasn't your fault." "Yes it is! My dad's dead because I wanted him to stay, and my mom's dead because I wanted the gun. It's all my fault!" Mark and Amata realized that trying to convince her that it wasn't her fault was going to be difficult.
"Sweetheart," Mark continued, "there is no way that you could've known that those raiders would come when they did, and there is no way that you could've known that the roof was going to collapse at that exact moment. You can't blame yourself, and I doubt that your parents would blame you, either." Mark paused for a moment. "Look, Abby, I know what you're going through. I saw my dad die right before my eyes. He sacrificed his own life so that I would be able to live mine. I blamed myself for a while, too, but I had a good friend knock some sense into me, and she made me realize that there was nothing that I could've done, and there was nothing that you could've done either."
"The thing is, Abby, parents are supposed to protect their children. It's in the job description. My dad, he knew that he was going to die, yet he did it anyway. Your dad knew the risks of dealing with the raiders, and your mom knew the risks of going back in the building. They did those things because they loved you and wanted you to be happy, and I'm sure that they would do it again, given the same situation."
"Abby," Amata said, "remember the other day, when you had that dream about your parents?" Abby nodded. "Did you get a chance to say anything to them?" She shook her head. "It-it all happened so fast and-and then I woke up, so I didn't get to." "Well then," Amata continued, "I think we need to have a bit of a memorial service for your parents." Abby looked up at Amata. "Wh-what's that?" "A memorial service is, well, it's sort of a chance to say a final goodbye to our loved ones who have passed on. Like, if your parents were here right now, and you had one last chance to talk to them, what would you say?"
"I-I-I don't know. I don't know." "Well," Amata said, "how about your dad and I say something first? Here, I'll start." She broke off the hug, leaned back against the headboard, and looked up. "Mr. and Mrs. Fields, I know that we never met, but you seemed like good people. You would have to have been to raise such a wonderful daughter. Abby has been such a joy to be around, and has brightened up my life, and the lives of everyone here." That got a small smile out of Abby.
"You know, there is some dark humor in the fact that two of the most important people in my life only came into my life because others died. Even though Abby is not our biological daughter, we will treat her like our own. We will raise her the way that I believe that you would want her to be raised. To treat everyone fairly, and to try to see the best in everyone. I know that you are looking down on her, and that you are proud of her. We will make sure that she grows up into a woman that you can continue to be proud of."
Mark leaned over and kissed her. "That was beautiful, babe. Now it's my turn." He spoke, running a hand through Abby's hair as he did. "Chris, Hannah, even though I've only known Abby for less than a day, I already love her dearly. As long she is under my care, no harm will ever befall her, and she will never want for anything. That is my solemn promise to you. As my darling wife said, we will raise her like our own. She is surrounded by people who love her and care for her. You gave birth to her and raised her to be the person that she is today."
"You worked hard to make sure that she was happy, but your work is done now, and you have earned your rest. My wife and I, along with our friends, will finish the job that you started. You two set a high standard for excellence in parenting. I just hope that we can match what you've done, because Abby deserves nothing less than the best." Amata and Abby both had tears in their eyes. "That was wonderful, Mark. I knew that I married you for more than just your good looks." Mark chuckled, and then they both looked at Abby. "Sweetie," Amata said, "did you want to say anything?" "I-I don't know if I can. What you guys said was beautiful. How can I top that?"
"Abby," Mark said, "this is not a competition. You don't have to try and top anything. You just have to say what's in your heart. Your mom and I are both here for you." Abby squirmed out of Mark's arms, and sat between the two of them. Both Amata and Mark took one of Abby's hands, channeling all of their love and support into her. Abby took a couple of calming breaths, and then began to speak.
"Mommy, daddy, I…I miss you both. I'm beginning to understand that you probably don't blame me for what happened, but I still feel a little guilty. We didn't have much, but it was enough. Mommy, I miss how you would sing to me at night. Daddy, I miss your hugs, how they made me feel safe. My, um, my new mommy, she sings to me, too, and she sings just as well, and my new daddy's hugs make me feel safe and loved, too. Umm, I can read and write now, well, a little bit, at least. I'm getting better at it every day. You guys already know that my new mommy is pregnant. I hope that I can be a good big sister to him."
Amata and Mark noticed Abby start to smile as she continued to speak. "Everyone here is treating me really nice. Auntie Ronnie is teaching me how to punch things. She's really funny, and she's fun to play with. She's like a big kid. Auntie Cass tells me stories from when she caravanned, so I'm learning more about what you did, daddy. She's nice, but she does say weird things after she drinks a lot, though. I don't understand some of it, but I hope to one day. Um, Mister Arcade is a doctor. He, um, he works for the Followers, like you did, mommy. I wonder if you knew him." Mark made a mental note to ask Arcade about that later.
"He's teaching me all about medicine, so I'll be able to help people if I need to. Mister Boone and Miss Christine, I don't know them that well yet, but I hope to get to know them better. ED-E, he's a flying robot. He's so cool. He follows me everywhere, and he plays music whenever I want. The place we live, it's really nice, and I'm safe here, so you don't have to worry. I'm happy here, and I feel loved." She paused for a moment. "Mommy, daddy, I love you guys, and I will never, ever, ever forget you. I guess…this is goodbye. Although, my new mommy said that I'll get to see you again someday, so I guess it's not goodbye. More like…like see you later. Yeah, I'll see you guys later."
Amata and Mark each gave Abby a kiss on the cheek, and she giggled. "Abby," Amata said, with pride in her voice, "that was beautiful, and you sound so grown up." "Yeah, are you sure that you're only seven?" Mark teased a bit. "Yup." That made all three of them chuckle. "So Abby," Amata said, "how do you feel?" She thought for a moment. "I feel…I feel lighter. What does that mean? Is it good?" Amata nodded. "Yes, Abby, it is very good. It means that the wound that I talked about earlier is starting to heal." "Abby," Mark said, "if you ever need to talk about anything, like if something's bothering you, we'll always be around to listen. Or if we're not around for some reason, your Auntie Cass, Auntie Ronnie, or Mister Arcade, one of them will probably be around, and I'm sure they'll be glad to listen. Ok?"
Abby nodded. "Ok. Umm, daddy, I'm sorry about before. Can I- can I still have the gun?" Mark smiled and ruffled her hair. "You're forgiven, sweetheart, and yes, you can still have the gun, as long as you promise that you'll be careful with it." "I promise, daddy." "That's great, Abby," Amata said, "now come on, I think we need to wash your face. Mine, too, probably. Crying may be good for the soul, but not for your face." Amata stood up, picked up Abby, and went into the bathroom.
Mark smiled at them as he watched them enter the bathroom. As soon as they went in, however, his face took on a more focused look. He looked through the files on his pip-boy, searching for the financial records he copied from the computer in McLafferty's office. After about a minute, he found what he was looking for:
Fields, Christopher-95 caps owed
Mark stared at that one line. Chris earned that money, but since he was no longer around to collect it, that money rightfully belonged to Abby as his next of kin. The only things that Abby was able to take with her were the clothes on her back and that pistol. The clothes had been trashed, and, according to Amata, the pistol wasn't in great condition and would need a good amount of repairs, or possibly just scrapped altogether. Everything else they had was probably destroyed by the fire, so she basically had next to nothing tangible from her old life.
That money wouldn't come anywhere close to replacing Chris' love, but he worked for that money with Abby and Hannah in mind, so in a way, it was proof of his love, and Mark was certain that Chris would want Abby to have it. He knew it was a bit of a stretch, but short of raising Chris and Hannah from the dead, it was the best that he would be able to do. 'McLafferty,' Mark thought, 'you and I now have a couple of accounts to settle.'
Hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Just as a bit of a fun fact, when I was first deciding what to name to give Abby, my final two choices for names were Hannah and Abigail, so I decided to make Hannah her mother. There is a reason I picked Abigail, and you'll see why in a future chapter. Until next time, and reviews, as always, are welcomed and appreciated.