Author's Note: Hello everyone! Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. Writer's block is a bitch. There will be a brief visit to Vault 101 in this chapter, just to see where things stand there. Also, this story now has over 50,000 views! Thank you to everyone for your continued support. Enjoy, and reviews are welcomed and appreciated.
Christine had been directed by the head of security, Ramos, whom she vaguely remembered, to report directly to the Elder. As she made her way through the bunker, she felt the stares and heard whispering as she passed. It was making her feel very uncomfortable, and her claustrophobia in the close quarters of the bunker wasn't helping the situation. Everything felt so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time. Being away for six years will have that effect on you.
Once she reached the Elder's office, she briefly flashed back to the last time she was here, and half-expected Elijah to be sitting at the desk. She shook away that worry, however, remembering that Elijah was dead, as seen by her own two eyes. She found it funny that he fell at the hands of his protégé, the one person he was certain wouldn't betray him. She then frowned, her thoughts drifting back to Veronica.
Schooling her features, she stepped into the Elder's office, seeing McNamara sitting at the desk. The last time that she had actually set foot in the bunker, he had been a Paladin. It was usually Paladins that ascended to the role of Elder, as battlefield accolades earned you a lot of respect. Elijah had been a scribe before his ascension, and a scribe becoming Elder had rarely happened before.
She walked up to the Elder's desk. "Welcome back, Scribe Royce," McNamara said in a congenial tone. "When you didn't check in, we feared the worst." "No, Elder, I was being held hostage and was unable to check in. My apologies for causing any undue worry." He waved it off. "No apologies necessary, Scribe. We live in a dangerous world, and occasionally things happen that are out of our control. So, is your mission complete?"
"Yes, Elder," Christine replied, "the rogue variable Elijah has been killed." "Excellent work, Scribe. You have done the Brotherhood proud." "Thank you, Elder, but, um, I wasn't the one who actually killed him. It was, well, it was Veronica." McNamara furrowed his brow in confusion. "Explain," was all he said.
Christine recounted her experience at the Sierra Madre, all the way from being trapped in the auto-doc until the point where Veronica shot Elijah. McNamara's face remained impassive as Christine told her story. "Well," he said a few moments after she finished, "it was one hell of a coincidence that Veronica and Mr. Franklin showed up, and also very fortunate. So, what happened after Elijah was killed?"
Christine decided to skip over the argument that she and Veronica had. "It took a few days to get back to the Mojave. I've been living at the Lucky 38 with Mark and Veronica and a few others." She paused for a moment and ran a hand over her head. "Sir, I feel that I need to report that Robert House is dead." McNamara perked up at that information. "Really now? How exactly did that come to be?" "House, he, um, threatened to harm the rest of us if Mark didn't comply with what House wanted him to do."
"So, Mark killed him, and has seized control of New Vegas with the help of an AI and has formed a ruling council with those that he lives with." "That is interesting and unexpected news, Scribe. The next time that you see Scribe Santangelo, please inform her that I wish to speak with her immediately." Christine looked pensive, which McNamara took note of.
"Something that you wish to tell me, Scribe?" he asked. "Um, Elder, sir, there are a few obstacles that are going to prevent me from carrying out that order." "What would those obstacles be, Scribe?" McNamara asked. "Elder, Veronica, um, she-she quit the Brotherhood." McNamara raised an eyebrow. "Why did she quit, exactly?" "Part of it is my fault, but since she's been with Mark and the others, she became even more disillusioned with the Brotherhood than she had been. I was told that you spoke with Mark, yes?"
McNamara nodded and motioned for her to continue. "Then you probably know that he worked with the DC chapter, and you know how Veronica wanted us to be more like them. She sees Mark as the embodiment of the DC chapter's ideals about caring for and helping the common folk." She then gave a small smile. "Plus, it probably helped that Mark declared her to be an aunt to his adopted daughter and any other kids that he has."
"And the other obstacles?" McNamara queried. "Veronica, she broke up with me, and if that wasn't enough, I've kind of been banned from the Strip." McNamara focused on the second part of her statement. "Why were you banned from the Strip?" Christine paused before she answered. She had already told McNamara about House, betraying Mark even further. She was about to tell McNamara about the alien weapon and the ship, but then she remembered something that Veronica had said earlier that day:
"…If other people, like the Brotherhood, saw a weapon that they've never seen before, they would be hunting them down to get it, and that would put Abby and their unborn child at risk as well…"
Christine would freely admit that she did care for Abby. Not to the extent that Veronica, who treated the girl like her own flesh and blood, did, but she did care for her. Abby was very intelligent for someone her age, and very observant as well. She reminded her of Veronica in those respects. Even after what happened to her parents, she seemed to have a positive outlook on life.
When Abby had roped in Veronica, Arcade, and herself into telling her a story, she didn't plan on participating that much, but once they got going, she began to enjoy it, and it was the first time in a long while that she felt truly relaxed. If the Brotherhood went after Mark to get that weapon, and Abby got hurt, Mark and the others would know who told.
If that happened, she would be targeted, likely with Mark and Veronica leading the charge. She didn't really know who she would fear more in that situation. The bunker was safe, but Mark had access to House's data network and alien technology. There was a chance that House had blueprints of the place, and while she didn't get to see how the alien weaponry operated, simply observing what was on the ship made her believe that he could easily get into the bunker if he wanted to.
Working that out in her head, she answered McNamara, deciding to go with a general answer. "What it ultimately amounted to was that I broke their trust, both Mark and Veronica's. It was Veronica's idea that Mark ban me from the Strip." McNamara nodded. "Anything else you wish to tell me, Scribe?" "Permission to speak freely, Elder?" she asked after a moment of indecision. McNamara stared at her, and after a few moments, said, "granted."
"Elder, Mark is a very formidable opponent, and is an extremely skilled warrior. He has surrounded himself with smart and talented people and has made friends with leaders of influential groups in the Mojave. He has resources at his disposal that make what the Brotherhood has pale in comparison, and I have no doubt that he would use all of them to protect his friends and family. I obviously don't know if you have made any plans to move against the Strip, but if there are, I would strongly recommend against it."
Christine finished, and McNamara looked thoughtful. "Thank you for that information, Scribe. I assume that you will be returning here permanently?" She nodded. "Very well," McNamara said. "You have the remainder of the day to get settled. Tomorrow morning at 0700 you are to report to Head Scribe Taggart for a full debrief and to receive your next assignment. You are dismissed." Christine nodded and quickly left the room.
(Same time, Vault 101)
Alphonse was sitting on his bed in his quarters, thinking about everything that had happened in the past few months. A week after Mark had returned to the vault and subsequently left again, his daughter had left the vault to track him down, with no plans to return. She had named her Chief of Security, Herman Gomez, as her replacement for Overseer. Gomez had been shocked when he had been given the note by Susie Mack, who had been looking for Amata when she found the notes that Amata had left.
Allen Mack had voiced his displeasure at the appointment, as it was no secret that he coveted the position of Overseer. He even went so far as to say that it was a fake cooked up by Gomez to take power, but that was quickly quashed as both Alphonse and Mr. Brotch had confirmed that it was written by Amata's hand. The vault had returned to a relative state of normalcy, with preparations being made in the intervening months to venture outside the vault to the nearby town of Megaton to establish a trading relationship.
That day was today, with the group of Gomez, Susie Mack, Butch Deloria, and a couple others having departed a few hours ago. Alphonse had asked Gomez to check on Amata for him, to which he quickly agreed. As he anxiously awaited the group's return, he sat on his bed, staring at a piece of paper, reading what it said, even though he knew exactly what it said, having read it multiple times. It was a letter written to him by his daughter.
Dad,
If you haven't figured it out already, then you should know that I've left the vault for good. I have gone to Megaton to find Mark because I love him. Yes, dad, I said love. Despite your attempts to keep us from having a romantic relationship, I still fell head-over-heels in love with him. I can't be sure, but I believe that he loves me as well. Do not send anyone to try and convince me to come back, because I have made my mind up, and will never willingly return to the vault.
There are other reasons as to why I decided to leave as well. One reason is that I no longer wish to live my life the way others expect me to. I know my GOAT results were fixed. I looked over the parameters for being put on the supervisory track, and then looked over my answers. They didn't come close to matching. On a lark, I decided to look over Mark's results as well.
Imagine my surprise when I discovered that his answers should have given him the long-dormant role of Vault Loyalty Inspector, making him your second-in-command. You obviously didn't want him around you or give him any more reason to be around me, so in the day between when we took the test and got the results back, you changed the results to suit your own needs. What you did was pure and simple cronyism.
Another reason why I left is that you lied to me, and to the other kids as well. You told us that the vault hadn't been opened since the bombs fell, when it was opened multiple times. You said that we were all born in the vault. Obviously, Mark and James weren't. You said the wastes were uninhabitable. Mark was out there for close to two months and obviously still lives.
Humanity survived, and not just in the vault. There are communities out there, some thriving. For years, I believed you, was willing to believe you, because you were my father, and assumed that you knew best. Now I see that my entire life, my eyes were shut, and Mark and James leaving were what finally opened them to the truth. Thirteen people died that night, dad, and I lay the blame for their deaths at your feet. All those people died, yet you continued to live in a fantasy world where the vault would survive as it had been. That is the very definition of delusional thinking.
The crux of everything, dad, is that I no longer trust you, and I believe that you no longer care for me. You have also created an environment where I no longer feel safe. I planned on big changes, and I feel like there would be reprisals from the old guard who want to maintain the status quo.
I have gone to find the one person who I know still cares for me, the one person I trust implicitly, the one person that I have always felt safe with. Mark is more of a man than you will ever be. At least he admits when he's wrong. I had hoped for us to be able to reconcile after the rebellion ended, but like when I confronted you about your drug problem, you wouldn't talk to me.
Well, you won't have to worry about avoiding me, or seeing me ever again. I do need to thank you for one thing, however: letting Mark and James into the vault. If you hadn't done that, I would've never met the man of my dreams, the man who I want to be the father of my children.
Let me leave you with this: I may not have any memories of my mother, but from what you and the others have told me about her, I do not believe that she would be happy with the way that you've been acting. When you pass on to the next life, I hope that you are prepared to face her.
Goodbye forever,
Amata
Alphonse sighed and hung his head. Every time that he read it, it hurt just as much as when he first read it. Why he kept reading it, he didn't really know. He got the gist of it after the first time: he had failed as a father. To have your own flesh and blood tell you that you weren't good enough was a humbling experience, and humble him it did. The fight had been completely taken out of him.
He thought back to the day that Amata was born. It was love at first sight. As he held her for the first time, he promised himself that he would be the best father that he could possibly be, and for the first couple years, he believed that he was. He read her stories, sang to her, all the things a good parent would do. Julie even convinced him to allow Amata to play with Mark, against his better judgement.
Things changed shortly after Amata's second birthday. It was then that his beloved Julie had passed away unexpectedly. He was devastated, so he threw himself into his work to distract himself. He had always been a bit authoritative as Overseer, but Julie kept him from getting too bad. When she died, that calming influence went with her.
Sure, he would still read stories to Amata and tuck her in at night, but these occurrences became few and far between, relying on the other adults to do it for him. His only other interactions with her would be at meal times, and when he trained her in the finer points of how the vault was run, intending her to take over one day. Otherwise, she was left to her own devices when not in class, choosing to hang out with Mark.
Mark. He had never really cared for the boy, even going so far as to "encourage" the Tunnel Snakes to rough him up a bit. James had kept his end of their agreement, however, so he kept his displeasure to himself. When Amata hit puberty, he had a guard with her at all times to prevent any type of romantic relationship from forming. That appeared to have failed spectacularly, as she made it perfectly clear in her letter that she was in love with the boy.
She also hit the nail on the head with the last part of her letter. Julie would not be happy with the way that he acted over the years. That made him extremely conflicted about seeing her again when the time came.
He put the letter down on his nightstand and ran a hand through his grey hair. Where had the time gone? It seemed like one second, she was tugging on his pant leg, asking him to read her a story, and the next second, she was all grown up, leading a rebellion against him. He had wanted to make up with her after the rebellion had ended, but his foolish pride prevented him from doing so. He had no idea if apologizing to her would have kept her in the vault. She obviously had her sights set on the boy, and unless he decided to come back, there was only one way she was going to get him.
Right now, he just hoped that she was alive and well. He hated to admit it, but the boy looked like he would be able to keep her safe. When the boy returned to the vault, he looked battle-tested and exuded an air of confidence that wasn't there before. He had no doubt that the boy would've carried through on his threat to harm the guards that were there when he confronted the boy in his office. He was secretly relieved when he learned that Amata made the boy promise not to hurt him.
He was broken out of his musings when he heard someone say, "hey Alphonse." Alphonse looked up and saw Herman Gomez, the Overseer that Amata had appointed to replace her. He was wearing standard vault security armor, which had accumulated some dirt from the wasteland. Alphonse stood up quickly. "How is she? How is my baby girl?" he asked quickly.
Gomez pursed his lips. "She's, um, she's gone, Alphonse." Suddenly, Alphonse's chest became heavy, and his legs felt weak, forcing him to sit back down. "G-gone? She- she's…" Gomez, realizing that what he said came out wrong, quickly corrected himself. "No, Alphonse, she's not 'gone' as in 'dead', I meant 'gone' as in 'she hasn't been there in months', and neither has Mark."
A wave of relief quickly washed over Alphonse. "Well, do you know where she is?" the former Overseer asked. Gomez took a small notepad out of his pocket and began flipping through it. "Yes, I do. It's in here somewhere…where was it now…ah! Here we go! According to Lucas Simms, Megaton's sheriff, Amata went to the town to see Mark, but he wasn't there."
"She discovered that he was at the…Citadel, headquarters of the Brotherhood of Steel, which is some type of pseudo-military group. She asked the Sheriff to escort her there, which he did. The group was apparently going to the west coast for some reason, and Mark was going with them to get a fresh start. Apparently, Amata decided to join him. The sheriff was informed of their safe arrival, but nothing else since then."
Alphonse sighed. She was truly out of reach now. "Thank you for checking, Her-, I mean Overseer." "I'm sure that she's fine, Alphonse. Mark's got a reputation of being some kind of legendary warrior out in the wastes, and I believe that he would die before he let something happen to her." "Yes, I suppose that you're right," Alphonse replied.
Gomez continued. "You know that he left us some money and a house to use in Megaton? He even set us up with some contacts that owed him favors to help us adapt to the wasteland. Hell of a thing for him to do, if you ask me, although I'm guessing that he did that more for Amata than anything else." "I would probably have to agree with that," Alphonse said, rubbing his eyes. "If you'll excuse me, Overseer, I am feeling a bit tired."
"Of course, Alphonse. I need to go take care of some paperwork. You know how it is." Alphonse gave him a small smile. "All too well. All too well." With that, Gomez left, leaving Alphonse in silence once again. He sat there unmoving, staring at the wall. "Forgive me, Amata," he whispered, knowing full well he should have said it months ago when he had the chance.
(3 hours later, Lucky 38)
After the group had lunch, Mark, Veronica, and Arcade went back up to the Penthouse to start sifting through the data that was on the Lucky 38's mainframe. Amata had gone to check on Abby and decided that since she had her letters down and could write small words, she would start teaching the young girl basic math, as she already knew her numbers.
Amata really enjoyed teaching, and she had hoped to become Mr. Brotch's apprentice, so she tailored her answers on the GOAT to hopefully get that result. When she didn't get that, she was disappointed, but hid it, and accepted the results. When she checked her results when she became Overseer and discovered that her father changed the results, seeing that she should've been a teacher, she was not happy.
She had gone down to a long-abandoned part of the vault and took out her pent-up anger and frustration by breaking anything in sight until she got all her anger out. Finding a hammer down there helped out immensely. Seeing as her father was now a couple thousand miles away, she decided that she was going to do what she wanted to do all along. It also helped that Abby was a very eager student.
Cass and Boone both went out, and seeing as they were both headed to Gun Runners, they opted to go together. Since they were going there, Mark asked them to pick up some ammo for his and Amata's weapons as well. They had returned an hour ago, and Cass found herself in the game room alone, sitting at the bar, drinking a bottle of whiskey while Radio New Vegas played softly from a radio that sat on the bar to her left. Other than the radio, the Presidential Suite was quiet, as Amata was still teaching Abby, and Boone had gone down to the gym.
Having finally gotten closure concerning the ransacking of her caravan, she reminisced about all the good times that she had with her fellow caravaners. She did miss being on the road, truth be told, but she had been doing it since she was a teenager, and she was now thirty-five years of age. Her caravan was a small outfit, nothing anywhere close to the Crimson Caravan, but she was still pretty successful.
To last as long as she did in the caravan business, you generally needed three things: the ability to read people, skill with your guns, and just a little bit of luck. Her luck seemed to come and go, she had an innate ability to read people, and while she had a pistol and a knife as back-up weapons, she was absolutely deadly with her shotgun. She preferred to do her fighting like she did her negotiating: up close and personal.
Sure, that type of fighting had probably caused her to get stabbed and shot more often than normal, but she just saw it as the cost of doing business in the wasteland. She made sure that the people that she traveled with were skilled with their weapons as well. If you couldn't shoot straight, or well, then you weren't coming with her. It was her caravan, after all, and she had standards.
When she was at the Mojave Outpost and learned that her caravan had been attacked, leaving no survivors, she was devastated. She couldn't even go pay her respects, as the NCR and their goddammed rules and regulations prevented her from leaving. She cursed up a storm, but it all fell on deaf ears, as there was nothing that could be done. She thought about sneaking out in the middle of the night, but there were two problems with that.
The first was that by nightfall, she was usually drunk, and wandering out alone in the dark while drunk was a recipe for disaster. The second problem was that if she did leave before she was cleared, there was a chance that the NCR would likely revoke her trading license, making it illegal to trade in NCR territory, and since that was where most of her business came from, she didn't want to risk it.
So, for a week-and-a-half, she spent her days drinking, walking around the outpost, drinking, complaining about not being able to go anywhere, and more drinking. One day, a runner who worked for the Crimson Caravan Company approached her with an offer to buy her caravan. At first, she told him to go to hell, not wanting to sell her name. When she looked at the offer, however, the negotiator in her realized that it was a good one, considering that her caravan only existed on paper.
She thought that her probably-dead father wouldn't like her selling the family name, but he wasn't around, and she needed the money. So, she signed the offer sheet and got paid. Since she no longer owned Cassidy Caravans, she was free to leave, but the problem was that she had no place to go.
She had no desire to start another caravan anytime soon, the wounds being too fresh. She had no family to turn to, well, none that she knew of, anyway. She had sold the family home to get the caps to start her caravan. Plus, it had been over twenty years since she was last there anyway. Going back to the NCR with her tail between her legs held absolutely zero appeal. Vegas would only be a temporary stay, as with all the distractions, her caps would run out quickly.
She was fresh out of ideas, so she stayed at the Outpost, and had mentally prepared herself for the likelihood that she would be staying there indefinitely. It was a few days later when Mark and Amata came into her life. When Amata asked her to join them, she was initially hesitant. Going off in the wasteland with two people you just met was a risky proposition, not to mention that she thought that Amata just felt sorry for her.
Her years of negotiating experience, however, told her that they were genuinely nice people. Plus, Mark already had a girlfriend, a very serious one at that, so he wouldn't try to pursue anything with her, which was a plus in her book. Not that he wasn't good looking; quite the opposite, in fact. She just wasn't interested in any long-term relationship. So, she decided to go with them, hoping to never see the Mojave Outpost again. She also hoped that being back on the road would help her determine what her next steps would be.
Looking back on it now, going with them had been one of the best decisions that she had ever made. She had done some interesting things in her life, but everything that happened since she left the outpost easily topped anything that happened during her days on the road. She had gone from running a small-time caravan to being part of a ruling council that would determine the future of Vegas and the Mojave as a whole.
There were some pretty good side-benefits to it all. She now lived rent-free in a high-class pre-war hotel, had all the booze she could drink, all the money she would ever need, and some pretty good friends as well. Mark was a damn good leader, one that the NCR would kill to have in their ranks. He was charismatic, a hell of a fighter, and had resources at his disposal that made anything the Brotherhood or NCR had look like rocks and sticks.
Amata and Veronica were her sisters in all but blood. Boone tended to brood a lot, but she sensed that he was an okay guy. Plus, he was a member of 1st Recon, and everyone in the NCR knew that they were the best snipers around. Arcade was a nice guy, a member of the Followers. He tended to give long-winded explanations to things, but she did end up learning new things when he did.
Christine, well, all that she really knew about her was that she was Brotherhood and that she had been Veronica's girlfriend before they were separated and had been making another go of it. That is, until Veronica broke things off with her and had Mark ban her from the Strip. She shrugged. Personally, she thought a ban from the Strip may have been a bit much, but it wasn't her call. Veronica appealed to Mark directly, with him only seeking Amata's counsel before he made the decision.
Finally, there was Abby. Her niece. She didn't have any siblings, so she never thought that anyone would ever call her "Auntie". Hearing Abby call her that for the first time, and every time thereafter, made Cass smile. Even with witnessing her parent's deaths, the girl was optimistic about things, and she was just a joy to be around.
Overall, she was happy with where she was in life. Helping others simply because it was the right thing to do made her feel warm inside. She wondered if this was how her dad felt when he followed that guy that she remembered him talking about. 'Like father, like daughter, I suppose,' she thought. She took drink of whiskey and smiled. "Wherever ya are, dad, I hope that yer proud a me," she said quietly.
"Auntie Cass?"
(3 minutes later)
Mark, Veronica, and Arcade walked off the elevator and into the Presidential Suite. They had spent a few hours going through the data on the Lucky 38's network, downloading non-sensitive information onto holotapes. They had made some progress, but there was still much more to go through.
He looked at the holotape in his hand. This one he needed to deliver to the King. Mark had asked Yes Man who the person was that the Kings worshipped, and it turned out that the man's name was Elvis Presley, known back then as the "King" of Rock and Roll music. The three of them listened to his songs, and they all found the music to be very good. According to Amata, the holotape that the Kings had had of his music wore out a long while ago. He figured that they would like a copy of the man's complete works.
The three of them were about to head their separate ways when they heard Abby yelling. "MOMMY! DADDY! SOMEONE!" The three of them ran down the hallway, Amata joining them as they went. When they entered the game room, they found Cass lying on the floor on her stomach, unconscious, and Abby kneeling next to her, crying her eyes out. Abby immediately went to Amata, and Amata picked her up and tried to calm her down, taking her out of the room.
Mark and Arcade quickly kneeled on either side of Cass and flipped her over. Not seeing any physical wounds, Mark went to check for a pulse. "No pulse," Mark said to Arcade. He started to do chest compressions. "You think that its her heart condition?" he asked the Followers doctor. Arcade nodded. "Looks like it." He then reached into his jacket and pulled out a syringe, a cardio booster shot, and handed it over to Mark.
Mark took off the safety cap and injected the syringe into Cass' left arm. Mark tossed the syringe to the side as Arcade checked for a pulse. "Is she alright?" Veronica asked as she looked on. Arcade nodded. "Yeah, she has a pulse. She'll probably be out of it for a little while, but she should be ok." Veronica looked relieved. "Can you help me carry her into her room?" Mark asked her. She nodded, as they picked her up and slung one of her arms over their shoulders and brought her to her room.
(4 hours later)
Cass groaned and opened her eyes slightly. She appeared to be in her room, although for the life of her, she couldn't remember how she got here. The overhead light was off, although there was a light on in the room. She looked over towards the desk in her room, seeing Mark sitting down reading a book. Mark noticed her stirring and put down the book and got up. "Oh, good, you're awake. How are you feeling?" he asked as he moved closer to the bed.
"Ok, I guess," confusion on her face. "What happened?" "Cass, what's the last thing that you remember?" Cass scrunched up her face. "I remember…Abby goaded me into chasing her, and then I think I fell down…and that's it. What happened?" Mark nodded. "That matches what Abby said. You were carrying her on your back when, well, your heart gave out, and you collapsed on the floor." Cass sat up. "Fuck. It was ma condition, wasn't it?" "That's what Arcade believes, yes."
Cass ran a hand over her face. "Wait, is Abby okay? I didn't hurt her, did I?" Mark shook his head. "No, she's fine. Well, relatively fine." Cass raised an eyebrow. "Relatively?" Mark looked over to the door and then back at Cass. "Abby believes that she hurt you, seeing as how she forced you to play with her." Cass scoffed. "It ain't her fault. I chose ta play with her, and tha attack coulda happened at any time." "Yeah, we tried telling her that, but she isn't listening."
Cass waved a hand towards the door. "Go get her. I'll set her straight." "Tomorrow, Cass," Mark said. "It's after nine, and she's already asleep." Cass looked over to the window and saw that it was indeed dark outside. She started to feel bad that her niece was feeling guilty. "So, um," Mark said, "there's a glass of water and a cardio booster syringe on the nightstand, and a few more in your desk. From now on, carry one at all times." "Yes, dad," she said sarcastically.
Mark ignored it and kept going. "Arcade said that he wants you to stay in bed tomorrow, and he'll reevaluate you the day after." "Fuck that. I feel fine. I ain't stayin' in bed all day," she said defiantly. Mark ran a hand through his hair. "Cass, you nearly died today, and you probably would've had I not had the foresight to have Arcade get a few of those syringes from the clinic." He sighed.
"Look, Cass, I know that you're not used to just laying around doing nothing. I understand. After I woke up after getting shot by Benny, Amata confined me to our house for three days and wouldn't let me do anything. I couldn't even work out. It drove me nuts, but I put up with it because she only wants what's best for me. Was she being overprotective? Yes. Paranoid? Maybe, but I realized that was the first time since I left the vault and gotten seriously injured that she could do anything about."
"Cass, everyone here cares for you, and wants what's best for you. So please, please, please, just stay in bed tomorrow. If not for me, then do it for Abby. For some unknown reason-" he grinned at her- "-my daughter seems to like you, and would probably like for you to stick around for a while." He didn't want to have to guilt-trip her by using Abby, but she really did need to rest, and if that was the only way to do it, then so be it.
Cass thought it over for a minute before sighing. "Alright, fine, but I'm not jus' gonna be lyin' here doin' nothin'." Mark smiled. "Don't worry. We'll find you some books to read or something." Cass groaned. "At least make it somethin' interestin', will ya? Nothin' too educational." "Nothing too educational. Got it." "And I want a radio, too, so I can listen ta some music."
Mark nodded and looked at his pip-boy. "Well, I'll get out of your hair. Goodnight, Cass." "G'Night, Captain." Mark opened the door, but before he left he turned and looked at Cass. "Oh, by the way, Arcade also said to refrain from any alcohol for tomorrow as well, and all alcoholic beverages in this place have been moved to a secure location that only I know of. And yes, your room was searched as well." Cass groaned again. "Fuck. Why don't ya jus' shoot me?" Mark just smiled before he left the room and shut the door.
(8 AM, the next morning)
Cass was sitting up in bed, the radio playing softly on the nightstand. Arcade had been by to check on her and to reiterate what Mark had told her the previous day. He gave her a couple of books he thought that she might be interested in. Veronica came by with breakfast, and Boone had popped in to see how she was doing. Mark, Amata, and Abby hadn't been by, although she was told that the three of them were down in the gym.
She grabbed one of the books, cracked it open, and started reading. She stayed like that for a few minutes before there was a knock at her door. "Come in," Cass called out, marking the page and putting the book down. The door opened, and in came Amata, followed by Mark, who was holding Abby. The young girl had her face buried in Mark's chest.
"Hey," Amata said, "how are you feeling?" "Eh, fine, I guess. Not too thrilled 'bout stayin' in bed all day, but what're ya gonna do?" She then looked at Mark and Abby. "Hey Captain, rugrat." "Morning, Cass," Mark said. "Abby, don't you want to say good morning to Auntie Cass?" Abby made no indication that she heard him. "Mark, 'Mata, I think me an' Abby need ta talk in private."
"I think that's a good idea, Cass," Mark said as he put down Abby. The young girl tried to make a break for the doorway, but Mark grabbed her before she could and sat her on the bed. "Abby," Amata said, "Auntie Cass is fine. She just wants to talk to you." Abby snuck a glance over at Cass, who smiled. "Now are you going to stay?" Mark asked. Abby nodded. "Good."
Mark and Amata left the room, leaving Abby and Cass by themselves. Abby sat cross-legged, facing Cass, her head bowed. There was silence for a minute or so, before Cass spoke. "Abby-" "I'm sorry," Abby said cutting her off. "I'm sorry I hurt you, and I'll understand if you hate me now." Cass' heart went out to the young girl feeling guilt over something that wasn't her fault, guilt that she needed to absolve her of.
"Abby, look at me please." Abby looked up slightly, her hair blocking her view. "Abby, there are two things wrong with what ya said. First off, ya didn't hurt me, and second, there is no way that I could ever, ever hate ya, so get those thoughts outta yer head right now." Abby raised her head a little more. "Huh?" Cass patted her lap. "Come here, Abby, please. I promise yer not gonna hurt me."
Abby slowly crawled up to Cass, who picked her up, turned her around and put her in her lap. Cass then wrapped her arms around Abby protectively. "There? Ya see, ya didn't hurt me at all." Cass paused for a moment. "Listen, Abby, what happened yesterday, it wasn't yer fault. I have a heart condition, one that I've been dealin' with ma whole life. The…attacks, fer lack of a better word, happen when they happen."
"I've had 'em happen when I'm in firefights, and I've had 'em when I've been sittin' an' doin' nothing. Tha only difference was that I was stupid an' didn't have any medicine on me. Lucky fer me yer dad was smart enough ta have some available. Good guy, yer dad." Cass saw Abby smile, which made her smile as well. "So ya see, Abby, ya don't need ta feel guilty because ya did nothin' wrong."
Abby looked back at her. "You-you scared me, Auntie Cass," Abby said softly. Cass gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I know, and I'm sorry fer scarin' ya, and I'm sorry that ya had ta see that. I can't promise that it won't happen again, but I'm gonna make sure ta keep tha medicine on me, so that way I can stop the worst of it when it does happen again. I don't plan on takin' a dirt nap anytime soon, 'cause I got things that I wanna do, like watchin' ya grow up."
Abby giggled, and Cass gave her another kiss. "We good?" Cass asked. "Yeah, we're good. I love you, Auntie Cass." "Love ya too, rugrat. Ya wanna hang out with me fer a while? I could use tha company, and I'll tell ya more stories 'bout my time on tha road." "Ooh, yes please!" Abby said excitedly. She loved hearing her Auntie Cass' stories.
Cass grinned. "Well, then settle in, rugrat. So, there was this one time when my friend Zeke and I…" Unbeknownst to the two of them, the door opened slightly, Amata peeking in. Seeing both Cass and Abby laughing was all that she needed to see. She turned around to find Mark and Veronica, waiting expectantly.
"They're good," was all she said. Mark and Veronica both smiled, and Mark gave her a kiss. "Wonderful," Mark said. "Veronica and I going down the street to link up Sarah's pip-boy with her brother's." "Ok, have fun you two. Tell Sarah that I said hi," Amata said as she made her way into the kitchen.
(15 minutes later)
Mark and Veronica made their way to Vault 21, finding Sarah in her room. She was at her desk, doing some writing. Mark knocked on the doorframe. "Hey, Sarah." Sarah looked up, and when she saw them, she jumped up and gave them both hugs. "Hey, you two. What are you doing here?"
"We're here to make good on that promise I made the other day to modify yours and Sheldon's pip-boys," Mark said as Veronica looked at the pictures on Sarah's desk. Sarah's face lit up. "Oh, that's wonderful! Have you met Sheldon yet?" Mark shook his head. "We're saving him for last. You did forewarn him, right?" "Oh, yes, absolutely. He's looking forward to it." "Good," Mark said. "Is it okay if we use that conference room again to work in?"
"Oh, definitely. Did you guys eat yet? Did you want me to bring you breakfast?" "I think we're good, Sarah," Veronica said, "but thanks anyway. We should get to work." "Ok, but please don't hesitate to come find me if you need anything." The group then stood in silence for a few moments. "Uh, Sarah, your pip-boy?" Mark asked.
"Oh, right, of course," Sarah said, lightly smacking her own forehead. She took it off and handed it to Mark. "Thanks, Sarah. It should only take about an hour or so before we're done." "No problem," Sarah said. "Take all the time that you need." Mark nodded and left the room, Veronica trailing behind him.
A little over an hour later, Mark and Veronica were just finishing up as Sarah came in. "Hey you two. How's everything going?" Mark stood up. "Ah, Sarah. Perfect timing. We just finished." He handed the pip-boy to Sarah, who put it back on. "Ok, so how does everything work now?" she asked. Mark walked her through how to use the new features and advised her to set a security code in case it got stolen or lost for some reason.
"So now you have a direct line to myself, Amata, Veronica, and once we're done, your brother." Sarah looked at the screen. "It's been so long since I've spoken with him," she said, the longing obvious in her voice. Mark pulled her in for a hug. "Hey, it's alright. In a little bit, you'll be able to talk with him as much and as often as you want."
Mark pulled away, and Sarah gave him a beaming smile. "I can't thank you enough for doing this, Mark." "Sarah, we're family, and this what we do for each other. Now if you will excuse us, we need to go see your- I mean our brother. You ready, Veronica?" he asked looking over to her. "Yes, Captain," she said cheekily, saluting him. Mark rolled his eyes, while the two women shared a laugh.
They left Vault 21 and walked over to what the sign indicated was Michael Angelo's Sign Shop, which was a repurposed H+H Tool Factory. "It's interesting, isn't it?" Veronica said as they walked across the street. "They live across the street from one another, the buildings maybe only fifty feet apart, yet for them it probably feels like a million miles." "Yeah, I suppose it is, but fears are rarely rational," Mark replied. Veronica was expecting him to keep talking, but he didn't, so she dropped it, seeing as they were at the entrance to the sign shop.
They walked in to a waiting area and looked around. There was an L-shaped desk directly in front, rows of cabinets along the wall to their left, and to their right was a seating area. On the wall behind the desk was a large H+H Tools sign, and to the right of that was a door that likely led deeper into the facility.
They went to that door and opened it and went through, walking down a short staircase onto the factory floor. There were various machines and conveyor belts running around the area, although none were active. There was also a series of catwalks overlooking everything. They didn't see anyone, but did see a ramp that led up to a large open doorway along the wall to their right from where they came in.
They walked over and up the ramp, coming into an L-shaped hallway with a Sunset Sarsaparilla machine with a fake plant next to it. A woman carrying a clipboard came around the corner. She had shoulder-length brown hair and was wearing a red mechanic's jumpsuit. "Uh, hi, excuse me," Mark said, trying to get her attention.
She looked up, seeing the two of them, although her eyes seemed to linger on Mark, and she licked her lips. "Hello there, handsome. I'm Kate. What can I do for you?" "Yeah," Mark said, getting a bit creeped out at how she was staring at him, "my name's Mark, and this is Veronica. We're looking for Sheldon Weintraub." She looked confused. "Who?"
"Uh, Sheldon Weintraub? You know, the guy who runs this place?" "Oh, you must mean Michael Angelo. If you take this left and go straight down, he'll be in the back. He's wearing a vault jumpsuit." "Thank you, Kate," Mark said. "You're welcome, stud," she said, her voice taking on a sultry tone. She fanned herself with the clipboard. "It sure is hot in here, isn't it?" She then pulled down the zipper of her jumpsuit partway, showing off a good amount of cleavage. "How about when you're done, you come find me and maybe we could go get some drinks."
Mark looked at Veronica for help, but she was biting a fist trying not to laugh. "Uh, thank you for the, uh, offer, Kate, but I'm married." Kate narrowed her eyes and looked at Veronica. "What? To her? You can certainly do better than that." "Oh, she's not-" Mark said, but Veronica cut him off, putting an arm around Mark's back and leaning into him. "Yeah, he's all mine, so you can put your boobs away, and if I ever see you near him again, I'll rip your hair out," Veronica said menacingly.
They walked around her, and then around the corner like that, and once they were sure Kate wasn't following, disengaged. "Thanks for that," Mark said. "No problem. Some women have no class. She was basically undressing you with her eyes." "Yeah, I got that vibe, too. Good thing Amata wasn't here. She would have knocked that woman into next week."
They walked into a workshop area, which was about the size of the bedrooms at the 38. There were cabinets all around, tools scattered on the floor, and on the far wall to their left was a man in a Vault 21 jumpsuit, leaning on a workbench, seemingly muttering to himself. "Hey there," Mark called out from just inside the room. There was no response. Mark then walked to just behind the man and tapped him on the shoulder.
He nearly jumped out of his shoes and turned around. He was slightly shorter than Mark, with messy black hair and brown eyes. There were bags under his eyes, indicating a lack of sleep. He also appeared to be depressed. "Oh, Jesus, you scared me. Who are you, and what do you want, exactly?"
"My name is Mark Franklin, and this is my friend Veronica Santangelo. Am I correct in assuming that you are Sheldon Weintraub?" He looked Mark and Veronica over. "Ah, yes, the mysterious half-brother to my half-sister. And yes, I am Sheldon Weintraub, or as I am called these days, Michael Angelo, artist extraordinaire." He paused for a moment. "Is it true what Sarah's told me about you, that you are the Courier?"
Mark nodded. "Yes, but I don't like to advertise that particular fact unless I absolutely need to." "Yes, yes, of course. I understand. Sarah also told me that you live in the Lucky 38. Has House mentioned me at all?" He looked a bit worried when he asked that. "Uh, no, why?" Mark said. Sheldon sighed. "It's just- I've been spending myself to the edge of artistic oblivion for Mr. House ever since I've left the vault. It's this place…my inspiration ebbs, and I don't know how to stop it. I can't feel the warmth anymore."
He wrapped his arms around himself. "Geez, dramatic much?" Veronica said under her breath. Mark heard her and elbowed her in the side. "So, what you're saying is that being trapped in here by your agoraphobia has caused you to lose your inspiration," Mark stated. "Yes! Exactly! I am an artist! I need to draw ideas from all kinds of sources, but the signs here have done nothing for me in a long while, and this building, well, frankly, it is depressing."
He paused, and then his eyes lit up. "Wait, you go out a lot, like outside Freeside and the Strip, right?" "Uh, yeah, why?" Mark asked. "I-I could use your help with something. Give me one moment." He turned and went over to a steamer trunk that was to the right of the workbench and began to look through it. "Where is it? Where is it?" Veronica looked at Mark, who merely shrugged.
"Eureka! I've found it!" Sheldon cried out. He turned back around, and in his hands was a camera, one that Mark noted looked like the one that his dad had in Vault 101. "I was wondering, if it wouldn't be too much of a hassle, if you could take a few pictures of some notable landmarks for me." "Like what, exactly?" Mark asked.
"Well, my assistants, Kate and Jessica, have told me about a few that might pique my interest. There's a dinosaur thermometer in Novac, a giant bottle at the Sunset Sarsaparilla headquarters, and really anything else that has a lot of colors or fancy designs and whatnot. I would be more than happy to pay you for your troubles, of course." He handed the camera over to Mark, who examined it, seeing that it was in decent condition. "How much film do you have?" Mark asked. "There's some already in the camera, and I've got boxes of the stuff, so if you need any more, just let me know."
After a few moments of contemplation, Mark spoke. "Tell you what, Sheldon. I'll offer you a trade. As Sarah may or may not have told you, I have a family, and I'd like to have some pictures for posterity. Here's my offer: I will get you the pictures that you requested, and in exchange, I keep the camera, and you develop any pictures for me. Seeing as I'm doing the legwork, I think that it is a fair trade."
Sheldon thought it over, and then extended his right hand. "Deal." Mark shook his hand. "Good," he said as he put the camera in his bag. "Now, did Sarah tell you about the intended nature of our visit?" Sheldon perked up. "Yes. She said that you could make it so I could talk to her again. Can you-can you really do that?" he asked hopefully.
"Absolutely. Mine, my wife's, Veronica's, and Sarah's pip-boys have already been modified. Give us about an hour, and you will be able to talk to her to your heart's content." He nodded, took off his pip-boy, and handed it to Mark. "Please use this workbench, and whatever tools that you need. If you need anything, yell for myself or Kate. Jessica took the day off. Come find me when you're done. I'll be around here somewhere."
Without any acknowledgement, he took off. "Well, he seems…interesting," Veronica said. "Yeah, interesting is one word for it, I guess," Mark said as he put his bag on the ground, opened it and took out his tools. "Are you really going to go traipsing all over the Mojave to get pictures for him?" Mark shook his head. "Hell no. I'm sure there are pictures of what he wants on the Lucky 38's network. Hell, I'll even see if there are any art books in the 38 somewhere. I'll ask Arcade later if he's seen some."
As with Sarah's, it only took about an hour to finish, and they tracked Sheldon down to his bedroom in another part of the facility. He was sitting at his desk when they entered, and stood up when he noticed them come in. "All done?" he asked. "Yup. Here you go," Mark said, handing it back to him. He put it back on, and then Mark showed him how to use it. Once Mark was done explaining, Sheldon just stared at the pip-boy. "Well, go ahead," Mark said, "Sarah's expecting your call."
Sheldon looked nervous as he brought a shaking hand to the screen and pressed a button. "S-Sarah? Are-are you there?" A couple moments later, Sarah's voice came through. "Sheldon? Is that you?" There were tears in his eyes and a smile on his face as he answered. He became so overwhelmed that he had to sit down on his bed. "Yeah, it-it's me Sarah. It's so good to hear your voice again. I'm ashamed to say that I'd almost forgotten what you sounded like."
"It doesn't matter, Sheldon. We can talk to each other again. That's what does matter. I wish that I could see you, but this is the next best thing. So, you've met Mark. Isn't he the absolute best?" Sheldon looked up to see that the space previously occupied by his two guests were vacant. He got up and looked out the doorway, but they weren't out there, either. "Sheldon? Is everything okay?" Sarah asked. "Uh, yeah, everything's fine. Mark, yeah, he's a great guy." He went back into his room, seeing a piece of paper on his desk that wasn't there before. He picked it up and read it, half-listening to what Sarah was saying.
Sheldon,
I wrote this while we were working. Veronica and I took off. Didn't want to intrude on a private moment. If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to call me. By the way, House is dead and I'm running Vegas. No, that's not a joke. Sarah already knows, just please don't tell anyone else, and destroy this letter after you read it. I'll bring my wife and daughter around at some point to meet you.
Your brother,
Mark Franklin
P.S. Get some sleep, man. You look like hell.
Sheldon smiled, put the letter in his desk, and went back to talking to Sarah.
Hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Until next time, and reviews are welcomed and appreciated.