Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1: Vaultie

Year 2277

"Girl, this is the most retarded thing ever." Calaway spat, his tone casual though his grey-green eyes were scanning the dilapidated supermarket for signs of danger.

Sadly, the mercenary was right; Faith had to concede, at least in her mind. At the time, it had seemed like a good idea: do some 'research' for Moira and her damn survival book to earn caps and supplies.

"Investigate the Super Duper mart," Moira had said excitedly, twisting a strand of her red hair eagerly around a dirty finger. "See if there's any food or medicine left, you can just keep it of course, I just want to know."

Moira had promised payment on delivery of her precious information. Payment Faith was going to have to split with Calaway.

Mark Calaway, now there was a man who might've scared the living Hell out of her, providing Walter hadn't reassured her that the merc was "good people."

"Shit, we ain't going in tonight; we're just going to have to rough it out till morning." Calaway grunted, lowering his sniper rifle -having been using the scope to survey the surrounding area. "Get some sleep kid; we're safe enough up here."

Up here happened to be the ledge of an old water tower they had scaled to get a view of the now occupied with raiders store. A ledge that was maybe three feet broad was all that separated them from the ground, which was a lot of feet down.

Yet Calaway was leaning back against the tower without care in the world, his feet dangling over the ledge.

Of course they would dangle, Faith thought with a snort, the man stood over six foot five, he was a goddamn giant. Sighing, she tried to get comfortable as well, folding her arms over her chest and lowering her head, her eyes closing.

Mark popped one eye to look at his companion, smirking. "Try not to fall, kid."

The fucking smartass.

Faith had been born underground in Vault 101. Her mother had died during childbirth, leaving her infant daughter and husband with nobody but each other. Life in the Vault hadn't been perfect by any means but after spending a month above-ground, Faith was occasionally nostalgic for her old bed and warm blanket. Other than that (and the bathing facilities) Faith missed nothing and nobody from the Vault. Except maybe Amata, her best friend from as long as she could remember, and Jonas.

Jonas, who was now dead.

She vividly remembered her first step out into the world, the world above-ground. The bright, harsh sunlight had damn near blinded her. The first breath of open air not filtered; stale underground air, had been... an experience of itself. It was bittersweet. She had been able to smell the lingering radiation from the Great War of 2077 -a war that had lasted only two hours but damn near destroyed the planet- but the air had also been... fresh, in an odd way.

The combination of the sun and air had overloaded her already fragile senses after a harrowing escape from the Vault and its recently turned psychotic Overseer.

Faith had had to sit for an hour just adjusting to the new environment.

After that had been the trek to 'civilization', which was a laugh and a half as 'civilization' consisted of small villages clumped together trying to survive or bands of raiders. Megaton had been quite the experience. When she had first glimpsed the massive, rusted dome structure, she had almost thought the files she had read on the Overseer's computer (which she had had to hack out of necessity) were either wrong or very, very old.

Those files had told her everything she knew was a lie, not that her father suddenly taking off hadn't done that either. Supposedly, the Vault had been sealed for about two hundred years, nobody came in and nobody went out. The files about Megaton, about large; mutated ants told her that wasn't true.

In all honestly, nothing could have prepared Faith for the outside world. The bugs that were wider than she was, the arid dry heat that parched her throat. The landscape itself...

Her father had once shown her a book, a very old book, of when the world had been green. Trees had actually had leaves and flowers once existed.

Whatever she had been expecting, this wasn't it. The land was barren, the ground just as dry and baked as her throat. The wars, the nuclear bombs and subsequent radiation had done a number on the world. She supposed this sight was normal to top siders, to her it was just sad.

The wars had been over two hundred years ago and yet the aftermath still haunted what remained of humanity so many decades later.

Once in Megaton, Faith had felt... so alone. Even if she hadn't been well liked by the few in the Vault, they had at least been familiar faces. Everyone in Megaton looked... different. Weathered perhaps, from the elements as well as the harshness of day-to-day living. She had learned quickly that in Megaton you just didn't become a citizen. You either earned your spot or paid for it.

Besides her dull blue, standard issue Vault 101 jumpsuit and boots, all Faith had brought with her was a baseball bat, a bottle of purified water, two stimpacks and a folded picture of herself with her father, taken on the day of her tenth birthday. It went without saying that her Pip-Boy went with her; the small computer never left her left arm, not since she had gotten it, also on her tenth birthday.

The first person she met in Megaton was Lucas Simms, the 'sheriff' and occasional 'mayor' of the town. He had given her a 'welcome' complete with a list of rules. Then she had been directed towards the common house, which was where the folks who weren't lucky enough to be citizens could stay for free. Free because they had crammed a lot of beds in the two-story shack with no blankets or pillows. If you wanted THOSE luxuries, you went and stayed at Moriety's saloon, with or without the working girl, for 120 caps.

The caps were another thing Faith didn't understand. Money had no value in the Vault, you earned your keep and for special items, you did special jobs to earn credits. She had seen pre-war money in history class, one- and ten-dollar bills that used to be the currency. Now the coin of the realm was... bottle caps.

And without those caps, you had nothing. That had been a harsh lesson in reality for her.

So, for her first two nights in Megaton, Faith had slept in the common house, badly. After sharing a two-room apartment with her father, that had been Hell. There had been five other women and seven men. Sleep was hard to come by not only because of the inevitable night noises and smells a body made, or the stench of piss and booze, but because several of the men where lewd and quite vocal about their disgusting thoughts.

On the third day Faith had discovered a friend of sorts.

Walter was the man responsible for Megaton having pure water. He was an older man in his late fifties and cantankerous to boot. With skin as dark as soot and a full head of hair and matching beard the color of the dreary grey mattress she had slept on in the common house. He was so busy in the water plant that he rarely had the time to go out and check that pipes that ran throughout the town. A drop in water pressure had told Walter that there were leaks in those pipes.

That's where Faith had come in.

Gob, a nice if not terrifying looking ghoul, who worked at Moriety's, had idly told her about Walter's problem. Immediately, Faith had sought out Walter and found herself a job. Walter didn't pay in caps, he couldn't afford too, but he did give her a clean bed with a blanket; clean water to drink and a meal a day.

Walter had informed her that her odd appearance would eventually work itself out or people would just get used to it. Which had, in an odd way, hurt her feelings.

She had never considered herself a classic beauty, but she hadn't thought she was ugly either. She was tall like her father and had her mother's build, she was shaped like a pear, meaning her torso was narrow and her hips were round.

Butch, another cretin from the Vault with whom she had shared a mutual dislike, had called her a 'curvy bird'.

Well fuck Butch, he was dead. The 'curvy bird' had split open his skull like a ripe melon for trying to stop her escape.

She had a full head of black hair -just like her father's- that had been cut to her shoulders and then swept back with a dirty bandana as she had quickly discovered that long hair was nothing but a hindrance in the outside world. Her mud-brown eyes were identical to her mother's, as was her full, cheerful mouth.

Living underground without sunlight all her life had left her with pale skin, an unhealthy, wan look. A month in Megaton had changed that, now she was simply pale though no longer unhealthy looking. She figured in six months; she would look weathered and tired just like everyone else.

A month in Megaton had changed several things about her. Doing hard work and being around these people had changed her both physically and mentally. Which was probably a good thing in the long run as she wouldn't have survived without adapting.

If anyone had told Mark Calaway that he would be teaming up with Walter's new apprentice, he would have asked Moriety just what the Hell he was putting in people's booze. As it was, when Walter had informed him that Faith had accepted Moira's outrageous proposition (no one else in Megaton was fool enough to bother), Mark had laughed so hard he almost broken a rib. Then when Walter had informed him that he would be accompanying Faith... well, Mark hadn't found that quite as funny.

Walter wouldn't give a reason why or explain just what was going through the idiot girl's head, much to Mark's eternal annoyance.

As Mark also owed Walter a great deal, he had grudgingly agreed to do it. But he had demanded that Faith learn how to use a gun and that he receive half of her payment from Moira, he wasn't doing this shit for free.

At least Faith had known how to use a gun, and her aim wasn't half bad either.

Maybe... just maybe... they could live through this.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: The Super Duper Mart

"Want some?"

Mark grudgingly cracked one eye open, blearily focusing on what looked like a bottle of water. Pulling himself into an upright position, he grunted.

Faith waved it at him coaxingly. "It's been purified, no rads."

Another grunt.

She watched in disgust as Calaway produced a small canteen of what smelled strongly like booze once he had uncapped it.

"Well," he said gruffly, smacking his lips; obviously enjoying his morning constitution.

"Well, what?"

Calaway ignored her, next fishing in one of the pockets of his leather vest, finally procuring a crumpled half pack of cigarettes. Once he had lit a fag, he inhaled deeply. "Three of them are leaving." He nodded his head towards the supermarket. "I have no idea how many are in there though, five... maybe six."

Those odds didn't sound so good to Faith though Calaway seemed oddly optimistic, if not outright happy about it.

"Course, they'll all be armed, livin' in a place with four walls and a roof, they don't mean to lose it. Assault rifles, maybe."

Way too happy. In fact, he was looking forward to this. Faith felt sick to her stomach.

"Let me take a piss and we'll climb down."

"Wait, what?" She quickly turned her head as Mark stood up, hearing the rustle of his rough leather pants. That was soon accompanied by the unforgettable sound of a stream of urine hitting the rusted metal.

"Shy, girl?" Mark asked, sounding amused. "Can't tell me you ain't seen a fair share of these."

She clenched her teeth.

Laughing, Mark finished his business, brushing his hands off on his filthy pants. "I'm surprised you don't have to go."

"I will when we're on the ground."

"Damn squatter."

When Calaway had oh so casually presented Faith with a combat rifle and asked if she knew how to use it, he had been stunned to see she not only knew how to use it, but her aim wasn't anything to sneeze at either. Not that he would ever let her know that. He was just relieved she wasn't going to need him to do all the damn killing.

They were currently inside the Super Duper mart, crouching in what used to be the women's restroom.

Faith was throwing up in one of the ancient toilet bowls, as quietly as she possibly could.

Considering she had led a very sheltered (literally) life, Mark allowed her a moment, taking another cigarette break, the scent of the smoke much more pleasant than the other stenches that surrounded them.

The building itself was sound, structurally at any rate. Old shelves had been reinforced and moved around to form a sort of maze. Rusted, disintegrating tin cans littered the broken, marble tiled floor along with broken glass and shotgun shells. Amongst other things.

Other things happened to be dried blood and gore, what looked suspiciously like vomit, none of it a pleasant sight.

If one happened to look up, they would have seen at least a dozen corpses in various stages of decomposition, hanging from the stripped rafters. They resembled an old movie Mark had once seen in Paradise Falls. Of course, they had had to watch the film off an ancient computer with a projector aimed at the least cracked wall of the building. The movie was from over two centuries ago, back when people had actually used those large and moronic things called VHS tapes and DVD's.

He knew life had taken a considerable dive since the Great War but he occasionally had to wonder how humans had managed to survive way back when. Obviously not too well as they had managed to almost wipe themselves off the face of the planet.

The Passion Of The Christ, it had been a largely unmemorable movie in a language nobody had ever heard of. Long story short, the entire movie led up to the supposed religious savior of humanity being crucified.

As far as Mark was concerned, that guy had had it fairly easy. These poor saps had probably been starved, tortured, raped and THEN hung up while they were still breathing. More torture had probably followed that. Some of the bodies dangled from barbed wire and chains, gashes running deep in their bellies, their intestines lying on the floor.

By not looking up, a person could avoid this horrific sight. By not looking down, one could pretend the crunching and slickness underfoot was from a jar of broken pickles. It was the STENCH that you couldn't avoid and more likely than not, was what had Faith upchucking.

Decaying bodies, the metallic scent of blood (a lot of blood), piss, shit, vomit, sex and the general smell of the old building along with a healthy dose of the scent of gun oil was enough to get even his stomach churning, almost. Mark had seen and smelled worse than this. It took a lot to make him feel sick to his stomach and even more to make him actually lose his lunch as the old saying went.

Three seconds was all he gave Faith, finally grabbing her by the collar of the armor they had taken off the body of a raider the day before on the trek here. Armor was essential if you were going to wander around the Capital Wasteland, there were simply way too many bullets flying around not too. Of course, most of the time, raiders made their armor for looks rather than protecting their worthless hides.

Faith was a little bigger than the original owner of the studded, faded brown, Brahmin skin vest and matching pants. Both garments had been treated in chemicals to harden them. Sadly, her feet had been too small for the boots the raider had been wearing, which wasn't a really bad thing as the Vault 101 issue black combat boots weren't bad at all. So, she was somewhat protected so long as she didn't take a bullet to the head. She was also a tad bit distracting -when she wasn't puking at least-, the damn woman had an ass like... well, he was having a very hard time remembering the last time he had seen a backside so round and... Vault women were a definite improvement over the scrawny broads usually found in the Wasteland.

"Hey!" Faith choked when Calaway let go of her vest only to slap her ass, fairly sure if she looked she would find a large, red hand shaped print on her right buttock. "What the fuck, Calaway?"

"Had to get you moving somehow." He grunted, flicking away what remained of his cigarette. "When we came in, I counted two up walking the shelves. There's probably a couple in the back of the store. Once we take them out, you can get to scavenging for your food and meds."

"What are you going to be doing?" She demanded, using a small sip of water to rinse her mouth out.

"Browsin' for supplies of my own."

"Whiskey and smokes, right?"

Mark didn't miss the sarcastic, or disapproving tone of voice and smirked, glancing out the broken door. "Little Girl, if you can make it out of here without getting shot, I'll even share some of the adult goodies with you."

"I really, really wish you would go to Hell already, Calaway."

"We're in Hell now, Girl."

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: Pull The Trigger

A purple mohawk. At least that's what Faith thought it was, the way it bobbed, it could have very well been an exotic bird.

"Armed." Calaway whispered in her ear, his unshaven cheek brushing against hers roughly.

She followed his gaze to the bobbing mohawk, taking note of a black rod that was also bobbing. After a moment, she realized it was a gun barrel. Faith took a quick second to wipe her sweaty palms off on her pants, watching the progression of the mohawk. She had killed before, but out of necessity. When her father had left Vault 101, the Overseer had decided she knew about it and basically gave the all clear on killing her, requesting that she be brought to him for 'questioning'.

Thanks to Amata and Officer Gomez, she had known what was very likely to happen to her and had managed to escape. Butch had gotten in her way first, Butch who never liked her from the get go. Faith had taken her baseball bat, a present from Jonas, and bashed Butch's head in. At the time, she had been too frantic to reach the tunnel to freedom to feel bad or squeamish. The blood that had spurted out hadn't phased her in the least, nor had the sounds of a brutal death.

This was a bit different.

Faith told herself she was being retarded. These raiders wouldn't hesitate to kill her just for fun so she would have to be just as cold, as merciless.

"Shoot him." Calaway ordered quietly when the raider appeared in their line of vision, his head turned away from them.

Automatically, Faith swung the combat rifle up, barrel aimed, a finger caressing the trigger.

Mark frowned when she hesitated, his entire body tense. "Shoot, kid."

When Faith didn't take the shot, he leveled his own assault rifle at the raider. He had every intention of killing this punk and then her. He wasn't out here to die just because she couldn't pull the goddamn trigger all of a sudden.

Faith about wet her pants, watching as if in slow motion the raider spun around with an open mouth. The shot had been true, he dropped dead. The shot had also been loud.

"You hear that?"

"Someone's in here with us!"

"Better learn to pull that trigger kid or you're going to die in this pisshole!" Mark snarled at her, letting his rifle drop with a clatter.

Faith could only watch as the mercenary took off in the direction the raiders weren't coming, her mouth wide open. If she would have had the time as well as been in the right frame of mind, she would have appreciated the skill it took for such a large man to disappear the way he did. As it was, he was also leaving her to fend for herself and that was more terrifying than impressive.

"Well looky here, we got us a pretty little kitten right here."

Reality kicked her in the backside, Faith's eyes darting from the last place she had seen Calaway to two out of the guesstimated six (well, now five) raiders left in the building. They both were extremely thin, which was the case for most of the Capital Wasteland's residents -unless you happened to have caps like Moriety or Calaway's strength to just take what you wanted, then you were well fed. Thin and cruel looking, that was pretty much all she needed to know.

"This kitten has claws, look what she did to Buddy, the poor bastard."

Apparently, Buddy had been the guy with the mohawk.

"We should probably just kill her."

"Yeah, we should."

Her reflexes finally caught up with her screaming brain.

"You shot 'im!" Shrieked the still standing raider a moment later, his body facing her though his eyes were fastened on the smoking hole in his friend's chest.

Faith didn't give him time to come out of his stupor, just blew him away too. Three down, three to go. From behind her, Faith heard a very soft; odd noise she couldn't place and then a grunt of surprise. Whirling around, she caught the flit of pain that crossed the raider's face before he toppled. He had been taken out by sniper, which meant Calaway was lurking on one of the shelves watching her.

That wasn't a really comforting thought.

Mark watched as Faith seemed to recover herself and went stealthily from one spot to another, never faltering as she had the first few times. Apparently, after he had saved her ass, she had decided she didn't want to be in that position again. Amusing. He lay uncomfortably on top of what felt like broken glass, the scent of rancid meat and old cigarette butts filling his nostrils as he followed her progress. The final three raiders hadn't come investigating the gunfire like their comrades had. They had gone for a different approach, they had gone into hiding, waiting to spring out on whoever had been idiotic enough to enter their lair.

He approved of that approach; it was one he would have pulled. Dying with 'honor' and face to face to your murderer was stupidity and he let the wanna-be heroes and martyrs have all that crap. Mark was a realist. In his world, there was no room for idealist fools at all.

"You were a big help." Faith said sarcastically when Calaway appeared, snorting when he arched an eyebrow at her.

"I saved your ass."

"Once, what'd you do the rest of the time? Get off on watching me murder people?"

"Yeah, I got a bit of wood from it." His eyes narrowed, staring down at her. "Look, kid, this is YOUR deal, not mine. You handled yourself pretty damn well, you're alive, now quit your bitching and get what you came to get."

She was more than tempted to shoot him but didn't want to explain to Walter why she returned alone. Instead, somehow managing to bite her tongue, she turned back to the actual reason why they were here. Foodstuffs and medicine. The shelves had been stripped bare a very long time ago, what food she did find was what the raiders had brought in themselves. Sugarbombs, Blamco Mac and Cheese, Dandy Boy Apples; mostly sweet things that were generously laced with radiation. Hell, everything had radiation in it; the trick was to have access to Rad-X and Rad Away, or caps to pay a doctor to cure you.

Silently thanking Walter for loaning her a rucksack, she began cramming the foodstuffs into it. Half she would keep for herself to supplement her meager one meal a day and the other half she would sell for much needed caps.

Faith found Calaway in the pharmacy carrying his own satchel, which made a gentle clinking sound when he moved. She was guessing he found the booze he had wanted. He was smoking again; the cigarette dangling from his lower lip as he picked the lock on an ammunition case.

"Find what you were looking for?" He asked without glancing at her.

"Partly, you already raid the drugs?"

"Not the kind you're wanting, I left those for you."

Not bothering to dissect that, Faith headed for the counter, setting her rifle and sack down on it. A quick search was rewarded with three Stimpaks and a half dozen tins of Mentats, which she would sell as she had no desire to fry her brain with the addiction that would come with the brain stimulating, recreational drugs.

"Heh... mines..." The mercenary grunted, gingerly shifting through the now open ammo box. "And a grenade... Might come in handy." He spat out what was left of his cigarette, sparing her a look; eyeballing the Mentats distastefully. "You goin' to take those?"

"Not likely. What did YOU find?"

"Jet... Med-X."

She didn't ask what he was planning on doing with those drugs, not wanting to know.

"Come on, let's get out of here before their buddies show up, I'm ready for a drink at Moriety's."

Faith just rolled her eyes.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: The Ghoul, Merc, and Mommy Hunter

Moira Brown took in Faith's tired, weary posture for approximately one minute before beginning to drill Faith for every single detail about the trip to the supermarket. "So, overall," Moira said after Faith had -in a monotone voice- given her the rundown. "There is food and medicine left to be scavenged?"

Faith had a sneaking suspicion that Leo Stahl was sharing his Jet with Moira. That was the only thing she could think of that accounted for the other woman's sheer stupidity and obliviousness. "Oh sure, plenty of shit the raiders bring in, people included."

"People?"

"You know, the ones they ritually sacrifice."

Moira blinked. "That's your way of saying no, isn't it?"

"Just pay me."

After successfully shutting Moira up long enough to get paid (in ammunition for a gun she didn't possess and a case of even more Blamco Mac and Cheese), Faith headed to Moriety's to deal with Gob as Moira had immediately ushered her out before Faith could resell the ammo. Calaway could have the case of food as his half of the payment, the bastard.

Gob was Colin Moriety's indentured servant, indentured because Colin had supposedly bought Gob off slaver's some odd years back and Gob was now repaying it. Added to that 'cost' was also the fact that Colin charged Gob for food and board. The greedy bastard. To compound the slavery issue, Gob was also a Ghoul. Ghouls were... gross as Hell to look at. Faith had never even heard of Ghouls let alone seen one in all her nineteen years. So, the first time she had met Gob, she had screamed. Gob, to his credit, had been amazingly understanding and reassuring about it. That might have also been his way of ensuring he didn't get smacked around by her too. Almost everyone smacked poor Gob, and Colin, the sick bastard, encouraged it.

Ghouls, for lack of a better description, looked like zombies and pretty much smelled like the walking dead. Flesh rotting off the bone, it wasn't a very pretty sight. Nothing like the view of exposed muscles and tendons to make a person regret ever eating.

"Faith, my favorite smoothskin." Gob greeted her, watching through bright if somewhat drooping eyes as she settled herself on a stool.

"You say that to everyone." She shot back with a tired yet still warm smile.

"True, but with you, I mean it." He placed his palms on the counter, returning the smile though his looked frightening. He was missing his lower lip, his gums an ugly brown, almost black color. "Need a drink?" He rasped knowingly.

"Something that won't turn my innards to shit preferably."

"Vodka it is then."

"Moriety here?"

"He's outside somewhere."

Nodding, Faith took a slow sip from the passably clean glass. She had been back in Megaton long enough to drop her stuff off at the water processing plant -where she stayed in the back room- in the footlocker beneath her bed. She had washed up in the women's communal restroom and changed into her old Vault 101 jumpsuit, which she now wore with the arms tied around her waist with an old sleeveless shirt she had bought off Moira.

Sunburn was honestly the least of her worries; it was simply too damn hot.

She had sold most of the foodstuffs from her knapsack to the Stahl's for their little restaurant, gone to deal with Moira –that had been a headache- and now she was more than ready for a drink.

"How long has the party been going on?" She asked, jerking her thumb in the direction of the 'other' room.

Moriety's was easily the largest shack in town. Two stories, the second floor comprising of several small but adequate bedrooms. The bottom had a bathroom of sorts, the main room with the bar, Colin's room in the back which was also where he kept his stock -under lock and key of course- and a room that his drinkers congregated in when they wanted to dance to the oldies playing off the sometimes working radio Gob kept.

From the ruckus coming from the room, it sounded like Moriety was going to be a lot richer by the night's end.

"Since Calaway got back." Gob shook his head, now focusing on the counter, which he was only half-heartedly wiping down. "He seemed to be in a good mood."

"With good reason, he found enough Jet and Psycho to open his own drugstore."

Gob groaned softly, knowing it was going to be one of those nights.

Faith had had every intention of just having one or two drinks and then heading off to the plant for bed, but distraction came in the form of Billy Creel. Billy kept her entertained with stories from his days working with the caravans, exploits with other guards and the day he found Maggie, his adopted daughter. Faith, who knew she was most definitely a sheltered person (or had been), loved his stories almost as much as Maggie did.

Gob kept refilling their glasses, switching out Faith's vodka for a watered down beer, keeping her from getting drunk. Mainly because while Billy was a likeable enough guy, he was still a guy and from day one had his eye on Faith, mommy hunting for Maggie most likely Gob suspected.

By the time Faith realized the sun was going down, the little party was in full swing. "Gob, ring me up." She yawned, glancing around tiredly for Moriety.

"Sure thing."

"Shoot honey, the night is still young." Billy laughed, clapping her on the back. "Or, we could go back to my place, me and Maggie'll make supper for you."

"Oh, Billy, thanks but I'll have to-"

"I'm here; the party can really get started!"

Faith quietly groaned. Moriety's working girl -Nova- had come down the stairs, looking just as bedraggled as she had the last time Faith had seen her. That was one job she NEVER ever wanted. Sure, Nova had good food, clean water, and a place to stay but her legs rarely stayed shut. She fished in her pocket for caps, ignoring the people who were milling back to the bar for refills.

"Mark!" Nova laughed, her low-heeled boots thudding on the metal floor as she crossed the room. "You looking for me, handsome?"

"Aren't I always?" He chuckled.

"Mmm," Nova purred, or at least that's what it sounded like to Faith, who was watching from the corner of her eye as she counted out caps to Gob. Her nose wrinkled in distaste when Nova's scrawny arms inched around Mark's neck; her body pressed firmly to his. "Sometimes I don't wonder why I don't pay you."

Calaway's laughter boomed throughout the room. "Damn if I don't know either, honey." He caught Faith's eye, smirking wickedly at her.

Blushing, Faith looked directly at Gob, who probably would have blushed too if he had any skin left.

"Gob, give the kid one for the road." Calaway ordered, freeing himself from Nova and strutted to the bar; nodding to Billy as he seated himself on one of the stools. "None of that piss beer you've been giving her either."

Looking disgruntled, Gob busied himself with getting the drink; finally placing a glass of something brown in front of her. "Whiskey." He grunted.

"I don't-"

"C'mon kid." Calaway chided, shifting so Nova could sit on his knee; lazily wrapping an arm around her waist. "If you can shoot someone in the back of the head, you can down some of the good shit."

Nova laughed, swatting his chest. "She's just a little girl; don't make her drink that nasty stuff!"

Knowing she was going to regret it, Faith looked directly at Calaway; picked up her glass and slammed it. She was right, she regretted it, instantly tears filled her eyes. Vodka... she had acquired a taste for, but she was fairly certain that that was due to her father occasionally giving her a taste. Whiskey... burned, made her want to clench her teeth and shudder.

Calaway began laughing.

Billy shook his head, shifting on his stool to look at Faith. "I got to get home to Maggie; sure you don't want to join us for supper?" He asked softly, his one eye studying her hopefully.

"Maybe another time, Billy." Faith said gently, looking at the black patch he wore over his missing eye to avoid looking into the other. "I only got back today, I'm dead tired."

"Considerin' the position you slept in, no kiddin'." Calaway chuckled, his grey-green eyes flashing wickedly. "You were right up against a hard place all night, weren't you?"

Nobody missed the innuendo.

Before Faith had time to even think of a reply, she seen Colin Moriety step through the door, sliding off the stool and going to intercept him.

"Well well, little Faith come to see her deal old Uncle Colin!" He said loudly enough for people to hear. "Shall we go to my room?" He mockingly gestured towards the open door behind the bar.

Hating him as much as she needed him, Faith nodded, leading the way.

Moriety let his palm graze her hip; knowing damn well he was pissing her off and cracked a grin; glancing at Gob. "No interruptions."

"Course not, boss." The Ghoul mumbled, taking the caps Billy had left behind and dropping them into the cash register.

Colin winked at Calaway before he followed Faith into the back room.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: Leo Stahl

Everything about Colin Moriety disgusted Faith, from the tips of his soiled boots right up to his steel gray goatee and cruel, cold eyes.

He knew she didn't like him either, which seemed to make this all the more enjoyable for him. He was standing with his back to the wall, arms folded over his chest as he surveyed her, looking callously amused. "Well, my dear," Moriety began finally, grinning at her in such a way that all his teeth were bared. "What have you come to see old Uncle Colin about this time?"

"You already know what."

He stroked his goatee thoughtfully, shaking his head in disgust. "I suppose you're here for your precious information. You know the drill girlie, if you want to hear what I know, it's going to cost you."

"I got your caps."

Moriety rubbed his hands together eagerly, watching as Faith pulled a small, dirty sack from her pocket. When she held it out to him, Colin all but snatched it, hearing the soft clicking of caps. "I won't bother counting them," He leered, stashing the sack down his vest. "I trust you, lass. You're too soft to cheat people, too honest." He made it sound like a character flaw.

Faith felt her face turning red but ignored the jibe. "I paid, now give me the info."

"Hold onto your pants, girl." Moriety chided, reaching out to grab her arm.

She flinched.

Huffing, he keyed in coordinates on her Pip-Boy. "Your daddy went to downtown D.C., to see that ass who runs GNR, Three Dog."

"GNR?" She echoed dumbly.

"Galaxy News Radio, that shit Gob is always listening too. It's in the downtown D.C. area."

"Did he say why he was going there?" Faith asked eagerly, feeling like her heart was trying to escape her chest it was beating so fast.

"Not that I can recall." Moriety fixed her with a shrewd stare. "You're going to go after him." It wasn't a question. "Why lass? You have everything you need right here in Megaton."

"It's not something someone like you would understand." Faith said dryly, busy with memorizing the coordinates, the Pip-Boy's screen giving her face a greenish tint.

"Course not, I'm a realist. I know the chances of lasting out in the Wasteland are slim. So why bother leaving these safe walls with all the luxuries and necessities I need to risk it out there?"

Sadly, Colin made sense.

He must have realized he had struck a nerve with her because he reached out to wrap what was supposed to be a comforting arm around Faith's shoulders, squeezing gently. "Now, now, Faith. You don't have to go traipsing all over the Wasteland, your daddy knew what he was doing. He's getting on fine without you. In fact, that's probably why he left you in that Vault, so you wouldn't be underfoot and in his way."

Faith swallowed back a sob. Moriety was saying everything she had already thought about in the past few weeks, it hurt even worse to hear those thoughts voiced aloud.

"If you're tired of working for Walter, you could always come work for me. Nova would be grateful for the help."

She tensed again.

"You'd have a nice bed, nice clothes like Nova does." He coaxed, pressing his head to hers. "You'd get free meals, good water, I'd pay you... You'd be safe here..."

Faith shoved him away, scowling. "I'm not a whore."

Colin was laughing so hard his face was turning red. "C'mon now, girlie, ain't nothing to it. Surely sex is better than being shot at?"

"I'll take my chances, thanks."

Moriety shrugged. "If that's your wish, lass. If you ever change your mind though..." He appraised her like she was a prized Brahmin. "You'd always fetch a high fee, men like a woman with some meat on her bones and an ass to grab onto."

Fath was never going to stop blushing, she simply knew it.

"And I'll wager you're still a virgin yet, that alone is worth at least three hundred caps."

By this point, Faith was already leaving, Colin Moriety's mocking laughter echoing in her ears.

Leo Stahl didn't like Faith, he didn't hate her, but he didn't like her either. Mostly because she was the reason he could no longer use the water processing plant at night. He had a chem habit, an addiction and the plant was where he had been able to indulge it without fear of being caught.

Until Walter had moved Faith in.

When she and the merc had been gone for three days, he had been able to use the building once again, safe away from the prying eyes of his siblings and the Doc. Now she was back, which meant if Leo wanted to get high, he was going to have to go crouch underneath Moriety's amongst the old, thick water pipes that ran throughout the town.

"Stupid bitch," Leo thought crossly, watching as Faith walked into the plant, knowing Walter had taken himself elsewhere for the night.

Faith carefully counted the remaining caps she possessed. If she negotiated with Moira, she just might be able to buy a few rounds for the assault rifle Calaway had never bothered recovering. She'd sell her jump suit and a few of the Blamco Mac and Cheese's for stimpacks. If she managed herself carefully, she'd be able to make her supplies last.

Knowing that this would probably be her last night in a bed for a while, Faith laid down onto the mattress, reveling in the pillow that couldn't go with her.

What the fuck was that chem freak doing, Mark wondered, watching from over the wash barrel right outside the men's bathroom. He was naked from, the waist up, his long-sleeved shirt lying on the bench beside him.

In Moriety's upstairs 'preferred' customer’ bedroom, a very tired, very sound asleep Nova was lying; she had had a satisfied smile on her face when he had left her.

Mark splashed water onto his face, still watching Leo Stahl. Somehow, he wasn't surprised when Leo halted his mad pacing and resolutely walked into the water plant. "Son of a bitch."

She sure was pretty, Leo thought as he stared down at Faith. He clenched the inhaler he held in his fist, Jet. After a moment's consideration, he took a quick inhale, feeling the Jet instantly going to work. "Really pretty." He said aloud, rubbing the heel of his hand against his forehead, beginning to scowl. "Stupid bitch... taking over my spot... Putting me out..." Leo gritted his teeth, glancing at the assault rifle that lay within easy reach, for her.

Quietly as he could, Leo moved it, having seen her and that merc practicing, he wasn't being shot.

Mark arched an eyebrow, wondering just what the hell Leo was doing. He could make out the red inhaler in his hand and knew the kid was higher than a kite. When Leo bent down and actually sniffed Faith's hair, Mark clenched his fists. The little pervert. Not that Mark could really say anything, he had smacked Faith's oh so round ass. On the other hand, Faith had also been conscious at the time. When Leo's convulsing hands actually reached out to caress Faith's bare arm, which rested on the outside of her threadbare blanket, Mark had seen enough.

Faith woke up to the sound of rasping, gurgling. Quickly, she sat up in bed, automatically reaching for her gun, which wasn't there. Calaway had Leo Stahl by the neck, one massive arm wrapped around Leo's throat, choking the life right out of him. "Mark, stop! He can't breathe!"

"That's the fucking point, Faith!" Calaway snarled, his eyes seemingly ablaze with anger. "What the fuck do you think you were doing in here, Stahl?"

Leo was rasping incoherently, unable to get enough air to form even an intelligible word.

Faith was on her feet, her tired but now awake brain trying to understand what was going on. "Ease up and let him talk." She said finally.

Looking disgusted, Calaway let Leo drop to the hard floor, watching dispassionately as the other man clutched his throat, sucking in air. After giving Leo the consideration of a full thirty seconds, Calaway planted the toe of his boot firmly in Leo's ass, sending him into a groveling position at Faith's feet.

Leo seemed loathe to actually look at her, his face still an angry beet red. Finally, he muttered something under his breath.

"What was that, boy?" Calaway prompted dangerously.

Leo managed to spit out something that sounded like: "Fuck you."

Faith physically winced at Calaway's reaction. He seemed to just... explode. He moved from his position, towering behind Leo to standing with his foot on the back of Leo's neck, pinning him face down on the floor. Then he bent and grabbed hold of both of Leo's ears, pulling Leo's head back even as he was putting pressure on his neck.

"Mark..." Faith began, horrified as she watched the tendons bulging on the sides of Leo's neck. "What... what happened?"

"This little cow shit sniffing punk was in here messing around." Calaway growled. "Talking to himself, sniffin' at you, touching you."

She shuddered.

"Leo is a chem addict and he really likes his Jet." Calaway explained.

She followed his gaze down to Leo's still clenched fist, realizing what he was clutching finally. "Oh my..." She murmured lamely.

Calaway shot her a disgusted look. "Girl, sometimes I think you got shit for brains."

She gritted her teeth.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6: Welcome to DC

Walter stared at Leo Stahl out of calm eyes. "Sonny, you're damn lucky Mark didn't kill you." He scolded, his angry tone at odds with the calm gaze. "And I wouldn't have blamed him one damn bit for it either."

Leo whimpered around the cloth Mark had used as a gag.

Faith was dressed in her raider armor, packing her satchel in the office, pretending that Leo wasn't tied to a boiler that got scalding hot at regular intervals. Leo would have screamed like a dying man and alerted Megaton if not for the gag. Given what he had been appearing to do, Faith found she wasn't really sympathetic towards Leo.

Walter stroked his chin, contemplating the situation. "Well, the way I see it, we're in a bit of a bind."

Mark grunted.

Walter frowned.

"Look, he's a Jet head and everyone in town knows about it even if they don't talk about it. So, we just use that against him." Mark said exasperatedly when Walter didn't supply the obvious answer. "You keep his ass in here until nightfall, that'll give me and the kid plenty of time to get away."

Faith had halted in her ammo inventory, frowning.

"After we're gone, dose him with some Psycho."

Walter nodded, knowing Psycho was a well-named drug. "Then it'll look like he inflicted all those injuries on himself."

Mark just shook his head. "I'm going to go sleep and get my shit. I'll meet you outside the gate right after sundown."

She couldn't pretend he was still talking to Walter, sighing as she turned to stare at the mercenary. "You're not going." She said as calmly as she could.

"Oh sure, because you're going to last more than a night without me." He snorted, almost sounding amused. "Face it, Vault Girl, without me, you'll die out there."

Walter glanced back and forth between the pair. "You two best not draw arms." He warned, having noticed they were each reaching for their weapons. "Kill each other outside of Megaton if you want."

Mark was the first to relax, flashing Faith his most irritating smile. "Tonight, after sunset." He reminded her before turning and leaving.

Walter let out a heavy sigh, spared a look at Leo and groaned. "Damn me to hell..."

Faith had had every intention of leaving while the sun was still bright, completely ignoring Calaway's order to meet him. Walter, of course, tried to stop her, to make her wait. Faith was having none of that. By the time she had finished trading for more ammo, rechecked her route and pretended to enjoy her Blamco Mac and Cheese meal, it was afternoon and she was ready to go.

She figured she would hike until an hour before sunset and then find a suitable place to bed down for the night, having absolutely no intention of traveling the Wasteland at night if she could help it. There would probably be less raiders out and about but more radiated, mutated animals and insects, like the giant ants. She'd go by day, thank you very much.

Leaving before Walter could talk her out of it -or at least out of not taking Mark- was turning out to be more difficult than she had anticipated. She was heading for the door and he was still insisting she wait for the mercenary. "I'm leaving now, Walter." Faith sighed, turning to stare at him, feeling herself softening as she took in the face of the only person in Megaton who had been truly kind to her. "Why is it so damn important that I take the asshole with me?" She demanded, trying to inject an edge into her tone.

"Because he knows the Wasteland better than most people and more importantly, he knows how to survive it." He began, seeming to know that he had only one chance to convince her. "You're going to need all the help you can get, Faith, there's no use in pretending otherwise."

"But..."

"He's rough around the edges but he's a good man." Walter said gently. "And he'll do right by you."

"Walter..." She could feel herself giving in.

Walter took her by the hand, guiding her away from Leo. "Look, once word gets out about what happened here, truth or not, and people find out Mark was involved, they're going to be after him."

She shot him a disbelieving look.

"He's an outsider, Faith. And a dangerous one at that. People naturally don't trust him, he makes them feel uneasy, the fact that he's so goddamn big and wide don't help none either. The Stahl's are popular around here, even if this plan works, somehow Mark is going to come out the villain."

"Damn it, Walter!"

"We'll stop here for the night."

Faith wearily nodded, glancing at the mercenary.

Calaway was studying a small cave, gesturing her to move out of the way of the remaining sunlight. "Looks like mole rats nested in here a while ago."

"Any chance of them returning?" She asked, hating the note of worry in her voice but truth be told, she wasn't too keen on the idea of waking up to find vermin surrounding her.

"Not likely. I don't think anything will bother us. We're still pretty close to Megaton and for the most part, raiders and the like steer clear of the town. Animals... eh, mostly just the rats and giants ants we got to worry about out this way. But like I said, doesn't look like anything's been up near this cave in quite some time."

Faith was going to take him on his word. She climbed up onto the ledge beside him to have a look inside, her eyes narrowing. "That's an awfully small space." She commented finally, giving him an appraising look.

"We'll manage. Now unless you got business to handle, get in first."

"I'm good, but... I, I don't-"

"Faith, get your ass inside right now before I throw you in."

She scrambled into the darkness head first, waiting for something sharp and deadly to bite her.

Snorting, Calaway followed, his large body all but blocking the rapidly dying light.

As he squeezed into the cave, Faith found herself pressing against the blessedly dry back wall, expecting to be squashed at any given moment.

"Well," He grunted as he shifted into a somewhat comfortable sitting position, his back to the wall so he could see the entrance. "At least we'll be warm." He looked down at her. "You can stretch out."

"What about you?"

"My legs would be half out in the open, no thanks." Calaway chuckled, placing his sniper down carefully by his side, motioning for her rifle. Once the weaponry had been taken care of, he dug around in his satchel, procuring his flask. "I know it's not vodka," He made a very derisive noise, letting her know just what he thought of her choice in drink. "But..."

The last time he had offered her his flask, she had declined. Tonight, she swiped it from him, taking a slow sip, remembering how it had burnt her throat the night before at Moriety's, determined not to repeat that one again. "Thank you."

He grunted again, stuffing the satchel behind his head, pounding it into a sort of lumpy, ammunition filled pillow. "Get some sleep."

Faith personally didn't think that was happening as she made herself a bed next to him, refusing to 'stretch out', instead propping herself up like he was. Which he seemed to find amusing. The bastard.

"Welcome to Washington D.C." Calaway said sarcastically two days later, passing Faith his binoculars.

She slowly surveyed the ruins, taking in the occasional sight of faint smoke, her ears already picking up the sounds of muted gunfire. "What's going on in there?" She asked, passing the binocs back to him.

"No idea. Turf battle, some poor fool wandered in someplace he shouldn't be, Super Mutants." He shrugged his massive shoulders. "They could just be shooting for the hell of it."

"What's a Super Mutant?"

"Hellfire woman, are you retarded?"

She fixed him with a look that told him plainly to go drown himself in a barrel.

"No, not retarded, just undereducated. What the HELL did they teach you in that Vault?"

"Math, reading, history..."

"Basically, a bunch of worthless bullshit that'll never do you any fucking good." He sighed heavily when he seen her expression, knowing he had just hurt her feelings but damned if he wasn't stunned. How could she NOT know about the Super Mutants? "Alright, time for a quick lesson..."

Faith gave him her complete attention.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7: The Metro

Super Mutants as Faith found out, were a mutated form of humans. Calaway wasn't too sure how the mutation had happened or where the creatures even came from. He had explained how they had been reported to more often than not kidnap people opposed to killing them.

Faith had asked where and what concerning the captives, but he hadn't any answers, nobody knew what the Super Mutants did with the people or where they took them. He had described them as large, freakishly so and an odd yellow gray color.

"You'll know them when you see them."

Washington D.C. was a lot of rubble, stone and steel. Faith was astonished by the sheer size of some of the remaining buildings, wondering how they managed to survive the bombings all those years ago. She did quickly see a problem however. The rubble blocked a lot of paths, it would be very hard, very dangerous to attempt scaling it. Providing they somehow did manage to scale it, they would be open targets to whatever walked these desolate streets.

"What's wrong?" Mark asked, seeing the look on her face, frowning.

"How do we get through?"

Now he was looking a bit squeamish, something Faith was a bit surprised to see. She had been sure that nothing ever bothered him.

"Well?"

Mark let out a resigned sigh. "The metro."

"What's that?"

Her lack of a proper education was going to drive him insane. "The old subway system. Some of it collapsed but for the most part, everything is still intact."

"So... what's the problem then?"

Mark gritted his teeth.

"Well?"

"It's underground."

She looked really confused now.

Mark shot her a deadly look. "If you really must know, I'm not that comfortable with being underground."

"Oh. Why not?"

"Not all of us were born in a fucking vault you know."

She recoiled at the scathing tone, for a moment. "But you slept in a cave last night."

"That was different, it was above ground."

"So, we could have been closed in and that would have been okay?"

"So long as it's topside."

"Fair enough, I guess." Faith hunched down behind the dumpster they were hiding behind, raising her wrist to look at her Pip-Boy. "GNR is three miles from where we are."

"Three miles if we were to take a direct route." Mark corrected, sitting with his back to the dumpster, a cigarette firmly tucked between his lips. "Your little gizmo there doesn't compensate for all the crap in our way."

"Okay." She said slowly, tilting her head back to look up at him. "So how long then?"

"Depends on what we find in the tunnels."

That sounded ominous.

"Why? What's in the tunnels?"

"Besides the raiders, ghouls, mole rats and occasional fire ant?" Mark's lips quirked into a hint of a smile. "Nothin' much."

Growling. Faith snatched the cigarette from his mouth and finished it before flicking the butt away. "Great."

"What the fuck is that?"

Mark rolled his eyes and followed Faith's panicked stare. "Feral ghoul." He said after a moment, sounding disgusted.

"A feral ghoul... like Gob?"

"No, retard, does that thing look anything like Gob?" Mark demanded, shooting her a look that clearly said she was a moron.

Well, physically Gob and the feral resembled one another, flaking, cracking skin that was peeling off in disgusting strips; chunks. The muscle had deteriorated, drawing the skin taut across what muscle mass remained and the skeleton, adding to the overall frightening appearance.

The tunnels smelled particularly foul to begin with, rare it was for fresh air to penetrate the stale, hardly bearable air of the metros. She could smell the faint scent of lingering radiation on the slick, damp stone walls. Wisps of smoke, the unmistakable scent of gun oil, rotting bodies... That's what the feral ghouls smelled like, decaying bodies. Which, was technically what they were.

"We're not going that far down, it won't notice us." Mark assured her, though he was already aiming his sniper.

Mark was handling the tunnels differently than Faith. As she had been born underground -minus the sickening stenches- this almost felt like home, in a very odd sense. Or would have been, if the constant fear of dying wasn't a factor. He was constantly smoking and just about every hour, on the hour, sipping from the flask he kept on the inside of his black leather vest.

She had wondered just how much whiskey was in that flask, at least until she seen Mark pulling out a bottle of the amber liquid from his satchel and refilling the flask. Men. She kept checking her Pip-Boy at regular intervals to check the time and see just where the hell they were. "Where are we?" She held out her arm to Mark, watching his eyes dart back and forth over the screen.

"Well," he said after a moment, frowning slightly. "I have no idea what that thing says but we're in the Farragut tunnels."

"What do you mean you have no idea what the Pip-Boy says? It's plain English."

"Can't read."

Faith could only gape at him, remembering all his little jibes about her not having a 'proper' education and here he was, unable to read. "Okay then, skip the words, can you make out the map?"

"Sure, that's easy." Mark studied it for a moment. "But I don't see the point; I already know where we're going."

"If you can't read, then how?"

"You don't need to be able to read to have a sense of direction you little fucking tart." He snapped, pushing her arm away. "Not to mention I've spent a lot of time in these damn tunnels. Christ kid, you really aren't very smart, are you?"

"I-"

"I don't mean book smart, I mean LIFE smart."

"I manage." She replied frostily, turning her head angrily from him.

Snorting, he began moving again, one sure foot in front of the other, gun at the ready and hugging the wall.

Faith followed him, knowing she really didn't have any other options at the moment.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8: Let Her Scream

"Hey, you hear something?"

Mark held up a hand to indicate Faith needed to be quiet, a warning she didn't need because she had all but quit breathing when she heard a voice not belonging to either of them.

"Probably a feral, nothing to worry about unless it gets any closer." A second voice came.

Mark was inching along in a half crouch, adjusting a silencer to his sniper.

Faith reached back over her shoulder to pull her combat shotgun from its sling besides her assault rifle, feeling the familiar ball of dread building in her stomach as was always the case whenever a situation where people where likely to die occurred. Which, coincidentally, was happening a lot more lately. She knew better than to open fire right away, as that would take away Mark's advantage.

"One on the train to the right, one up on the stairs." He murmured, taking aim.

"Any more than that?"

"Probably, so shoot when I do."

"Won't that be noisy?"

"The silencer will muffle the sound, but I can't silence air or whatever noises this clown might make so... just shoot when I do. We can take out two at once before the rest even know what's going on. Surprise is on our side."

Faith considered that as she was taking aim. They were giving up the advantage of silence but gaining their enemies confusion.

Mark mouthed 'one, two, three' before they each took their shot, she aimed for the raider nearest to her, knowing the combat shotgun didn't have the range of the sniper.

Sprint, duck and fire. Repeat.

She marveled at how graceful Mark looked, each movement he made was fluid yet purposeful, years of practice (and she didn't like thinking of killing people as practice) evident. Whereas she was likely to die at any moment, especially as she kept tripping over chunks of granite and other trash she didn't want to think about. Before she could recover after catching her ankle between the tracks, she felt a bullet piercing the armor she wore, lodging itself in her ribs. The pain was instant and excruciating; she had literally felt the bullet grazing bone, the breath taken right out of her.

Mark was unaware anything had happened to Faith, too caught up in what was going on around him and not getting shot himself. He was taking refuge behind an old, mostly intact billboard that had once been housed as an advertisement in one of the old trains. He was pretty certain it wouldn't survive the barrage it was now suffering.

He heard Faith's assault rifle, figuring she had either run out of ammo for the shotgun or was being surrounded. He went with surrounded as there wasn't THAT many raiders so running out of ammunition was not going to happen. And as for being surrounded, he supposed three would seem like a group to her if they were up close and personal, damn kid. Either way, it wasn't good.

He barely remembered the rest of the shootout but when it was over, he knew he was standing, and the raiders were all dead or well on their way there. "Faith?" Cautiously, Mark stepped over a squirming young man and shook his head.

"Please..."

He took in the tattoos across the kid's forehead, gang markings, and shook his head again. Even if he had felt any bit of sympathy, he wouldn't have acted on it. The kid hadn't looked so heartbreakingly pitiful and sad when he had been trying to blow Mark's head off. Not wanting to waste a bullet, Mark bent and used his hands to snap the kid's neck. The only mercy he showed, a quick death. "Faith?" He called again, fairly certain all the raiders were taken of.

"Over here."

Noting the hint of muted pain in her tone, he hurried. Most likely, she had seen a mole rat and freaked out. He rounded one of the old trains and halted, spotting her. She was leaning against a stone support pillar, her assault rifle dangling limply at her side, her fingers barely gripping it. "Well, that wasn't too bad." He chuckled, reaching for a cigarette as he walked towards her. "Want one?"

"Sure." She smiled painfully, her already pale face stark white.

It was this whiteness that got his attention as he approached. At first glance, Mark had attributed it to dust and flecks of granite, now he could see he had very wrong.

Faith held out her free hand, taking the cigarette he had been about to offer.

Automatically, he stepped forward to light it, eyes searching for a wound. "Are you hurt?"

"Give me your flask."

Confused, he did, arching an eyebrow as she took two large swallows. "Faith, are you hurt?" He asked again.

The tight grim smile didn't fade as she quickly raised her gun.

Instantly Mark was aiming his own rifle at her. "Faith..."

She pulled the trigger.

He felt the bullets whizzing past his head in rapid succession, damn sure one had nicked his ear. He heard the gurgle of pain and death behind him, followed by a thump. He spared one look over his shoulder for the now dead raider, turning back to Faith in time to catch her when she toppled forward. "Christ, what happened?"

She laughed dryly, having dropped the gun in order to clutch her side. "I've never actually been shot before."

Groaning, Mark gently eased her down onto a mostly clear patch of pavement, prying her hands from the wound. "Well..." He held a massive palm over it, pressing down to stop the bleeding.

"Well?"

"I don't know..." He looked towards the stairs. "They probably have a nest up there. I'm going to carry you."

Faith closed her eyes, her mouth a nasty red gash against the whiteness of her face.

Wasting little time, Mark scooped her up, cradling her to his chest and started up the stone steps that led to the ground level floor, which would also lead them out of the tunnels. An old ticket booth had been added onto, forming a sort of lean too out of old wood and tin scraps. Mattresses on the floor, urine and booze stained but they would have to do. After picking out the cleanest mattress and using his foot to flip it over, Mark carefully laid Faith down, putting both their satchels onto the cardboard floor besides him.

"Do you know what kind of gun you were shot with?" He asked, settling himself into a kneeling position beside her, reaching for the hilt of the knife he always kept tucked in his left boot.

She shook her head, her eyes not opening.

Given that she hadn't dropped down dead was a good sign, but he wasn't going to know the extent of the damage until he could actually see the wound. Using the knife, he cut away her armor. The blood looked worse, staining the faded tank top she wore beneath it, an ugly bullet hole wound glaring at him. "Fuck..." He growled, plucking the shirt away from her body to study it.

"How bad is it?"

"I'm going to clean it the best I can, but we got to get to GNR as soon as possible." He said after a moment, not about to lie or sugar coat anything. "Three Dog will have water and... the things I'm going to need."

"Like what?"

"Tweezers. Bits of your shirt are in there, the bullet is lodged, and it'll get infected. Hold still."

Faith didn't have to really worry about 'holding still' as he placed a hand on her stomach, pinning her down while he poured the contents of his flask over the wound, screaming in agony.

He let her scream.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9: Topside Warzone

Getting Faith out of the tunnels was easy; she had walked out on her own two feet. Mark kept giving her stimpaks every hour or so, whenever it looked like she was turning that stark white again. He'd insisted they make regular stops to check her side, much to Faith's annoyance.

He wasn't surprised at all at how fast infection was setting in, even with regular care and consistent doses of stimpaks and a liberal amount of whiskey.

Topside was a completely new ballgame. They had emerged in the middle of a mini warzone.

Sarah Lyons had been listening to a field report when she spotted two civilians slowly approaching, her cool grey eyes narrowing. "Damn it..." She cursed, raising a hand to both silence her underlings and to gesture to the nearing pair. "Civilians," She began briskly, striding towards them. "This area isn't safe; you need to head back the way you came."

"Sarah, cut the shit, no where's safe." Grunted the larger of the pair.

"Calaway?" Her tone was both incredulous and angry, drawing herself upright completely. Her fingers twitched for the trigger of the AER9 laser rifle she carried on her person. Once the urge had passed, she surveyed him and his companion, taking in the way he was half carrying the smaller person, a woman. "Shoot her, did you?"

He grinned viciously at her, revealing his nicotine-stained teeth. "Sure, if that makes you more inclined to help her, I shot her."

"Commander?" Her newest recruit began hesitantly.

Sarah stared at Mark, her upper lip curled into a sneer. "What happened?" She asked finally.

"She got shot." He said bluntly. "I tended to it best I could but... Infection's settin' in, Sarah, she needs medical help."

"We don't have a medic with us, in case you didn't notice, Calaway; we're not here on a vacation." She gestured to her heavily armed troops sarcastically, all of them wearing power armor, just as she was.

He scowled. "I can see that. I need to get her to GNR, that's where she wants to go and I know Three Dog has stuff on hand I can use to help her."

"There's a Brotherhood medic there."

"Even better."

"But getting through the lines is impossible right now."

"It's always impossible, Sarah." Mark replied, glancing down at Faith. "But I have to try."

Sarah frowned, studying Mark intently. "What happened?" She finally asked.

"We ran into a nest of raiders." He explained, gently laying Faith out on an old table pressed against the concrete wall, ignoring the soldiers grunting displeasure as they hurried forward to snatch their gear off the table.

"Mark?"

He inhaled sharply at just how weak Faith sounded; staring at her face but her eyes weren't open. He laid a hand over her forehead, not surprised at how hot she felt. "I'm here, kid."

Sarah was instantly drawn closer to the pair, having heard the dulled confusion and pain in the woman's groggy voice. "Show me the wound."

"Commander, there is no time for this!"

"Initiate, are you challenging me?" Sarah demanded, rounding on her lesser angrily.

"No, Commander Lyons, I am simply..." Reddins blanched under her superior's stare. "No."

Mark fixed the Initiate who had just been reprimanded with a cold stare, suddenly remembering just why he didn't like the Brotherhood of Steel. They were all about technology and had very little patience for actual people outside their clan. Well, most of them. Returning to the task at hand, he gently lifted the bottom of Faith's shirt.

With more patience than she had to spare considering the situation, Sarah waited as he peeled away the bandages and then unpacked the wound, frowning as an unpleasant odor reached her. She had seen a lot of war wounds and injuries in her lifetime, that didn't make them any less pleasant. Finally, she looked into the other woman's face and frowned. "Calaway, she's just a kid!"

He ignored that, busy swabbing the pus-filled hole out with the only clean, wet thing he had. Whiskey. He was definitely glad Faith was unconscious, remembering how she had screamed when he had first done this, only now... the wound was so much worse.

"Calaway!"

"Look, I have no idea how old she is or what the hell it is she's tryin' to do. I'm just along for the goddamn ride!"

"Of course you are!" Sarah sneered, unable to do anything at the moment for the kid, her attention was already being drawn away by the reports coming in through her earpiece. "That's not good." She muttered, eyes darting back to the wound. "That's bad, Mark."

"I told you, it's infected."

"Well, give her another stimpak and a shot of Rads wouldn't hurt either."

"Commander Lyons, we have to go!" Reddin's shouted from the place she had taken up next to a window without a frame.

Mark listened as the recruit began filling Sarah in on the situation as he dosed Faith. He had known it would be bad in downtown D.C. but not THIS damn bad.

"The Super Mutants are rallying near GNR, Three Dog and the others are trapped in there!"

"Damn it!" Sarah cursed; shooting Mark an angry look, now was NOT the time for him to bringing this shit around. "Look, if you want to follow us, that's fine. But we're NOT protecting you; we got our own asses to cover."

"Lead the way."

"Damn, merc, what'd you do? Plant a slug in her?"

Mark ignored that and downed the water Sarah passed him, finally crushing the empty bottle in his fist. He was tired, sore as hell and covered in Mutant blood. He wasn't in the mood for this shit. "Look, Flinty-"

"Finley."

"Just... help her and shut up." He said tiredly, pulling out the sawed-off shotgun he had found on a raider's body. Not the most useful of guns unless you were planning on committing suicide, but at the moment, it was the easiest thing for him to grab. He had kept it tucked in the waistband of his pants. "Now."

Instantly, every gun in the room was pointed at him.

"Calaway put it down." Sarah ordered sternly. "Finley will do all he can, providing you don't do anything stupid."

"No more damn jokes, just get her better."

"Fine, now put the gun down."

Mark lowered it.

Sighing in relief, Sarah shook her head. "Finley, get to work on the kid. Calaway, why don't you come with me?"

He shook his head no, staring at Faith.

"She'll be here when we get back, I promise."

Mark figured a shower was the closest to heaven he was ever going to get, not minding the cold part at all. Sarah had completely disarmed him, for her 'men's sake' but that was all right. He didn't actually need a gun to kill somebody. He was just tired, and more worried about Faith than he cared to admit. He thoroughly washed all the Super Mutant blood off himself, noting with disgust that it was much thicker than human blood, and had a strong scent to it, making his stomach roll. He was just glad Faith had been unconscious when they had encountered the Behemoth, a Super Mutant so old, so large that it had been damn near twenty feet tall...

How they had managed to take it down was beyond him. His sniper had seemed almost useless, the bullets lodging themselves into the thick, muscled hide of the beast but not seeming to affect it. Mark did not like that feeling.

He was still feeling it, but it was different now. It wasn't the helplessness of knowing there was nothing he could do to defend himself, that he could deal with. The helplessness of knowing that Faith's life was out of his hands... He couldn't live with that.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10: Million Cap Question

By the time he was done, Knight Finley had removed enough infected tissue from Faith's flesh to leave a hole the size of an old American half dollar. "Well," He said tiredly, when he had finished. "I've removed the infected flesh, cleaned out the wound and stuffed some synthetic 'meat' into there. A stimpak, some gauze and a shitload of painkillers, this girl will be good to go in no time."

Sarah nodded, busy with a can of Pork 'N Beans, the tines of her fork scraping the sides of the can as she dug out the questionable substance. "Good. Where's Calaway?"

"You mean the mercenary? He's in there with her." Finley jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, helping himself to the food, pulling out a can that wasn't too badly dented. "What's the deal with the merc anyway?"

"What do you mean?"

"You seem to know him."

Sarah rolled her eyes, wondering if Finley was serious. The look on the newest Knight's face said he was. "Mark Calaway."

He just shrugged.

She smiled grimly. "I know a name you'll recognize." She said slowly, with obvious relish.

Finley arched an eyebrow.

"The Undertaker." It was amusing to see his reaction; the way his face went a sheer white; priceless.

"You're- you're joking?"

"Nope."

"WHY did you let him in here then?"

"Because it's not my place to deny him entry, this is Three Dog's place."

"We're using it as a damn base!"

"Knight Finley, if you have a problem with my judgment..." Sarah began in a cold tone, her face set in a stern expression as she regarded him.

"No, no, Commander Lyons, I merely..." Finley trailed off when Calaway walked into the room, shifting anxiously on the block of granite he had seated himself on. "Your... friend... will be fine, she's sleeping right now." He said quickly.

"When will she wake up?"

"No idea."

"Damn, that doesn't feel so good."

Mark pushed himself away from the wall he had been leaning against when he heard Faith's tired voice, moving to stare down at her intently. "Faith?"

Faith was trying to sit up, a hand going to her side. "Where are we?" She asked raggedly, looking around at the dreary, ruined room they were in. She then looked down, taking note of the narrow bed before looking back to Mark.

"GNR."

"GNR," Faith smiled, only to grimace a second later. "Damn, what happened?"

"You were shot in the tunnels, remember?"

"Vaguely. But how did we get here? Did you bring me all this way?"

"Yes, and no."

Faith listened patiently as Mark explained everything that had happened since the Farragut tunnels as she sucked down a bottle of water. He told her about meeting up with the Brotherhood of Steel -who, he was surprised to learn, she knew absolutely nothing about- and then finally about the Behemoth mutant they had encountered. "You know," Faith began when he had finished, leaning back against the wall. "I'm pretty glad I was unconscious for all of that. Doesn't going through all that make you wish you'd of stayed in Megaton like I wanted?"

Mark shook his head, gingerly perching himself on the edge of the bed, trying not to grin. "Truth be told, I've been in worse scrapes, just usually it's only myself I have to worry about."

Faith bit her lower lip.

"Besides kids, if I'd of listened to you in the first place, you'd be dead."

"Very true." She chuckled, reaching out to take his hand. "Thank you."

"Faith!"

Faith could only stare at the man she was assuming to be Three Dog, arching an eyebrow as he swooped in to give her a back cracking hug; wincing as pain flared throughout her side.

"Damn kiddo, it is so good to see you up and moving. Old Three Dog thought for a while there we were going to have us a funeral."

Three Dog was... exuberant, to say the least, a rather unimposing figure of a man but he had a loud, projecting voice, full of piss and vinegar. Behind the lens of his glasses, he stared at her knowingly; apparently already in on whatever it was she was after.

"Why don't we go talk?" He suggested, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, glancing back at Mark and hesitated. "Your friend can come."

"No, I..." Faith looked at Mark tentatively. "Would you mind?"

He was already backing towards the steps that led down to the bottom floor, where the Brotherhood of Steel had set up their base. "Nope, you go on ahead, kid. I'm just along for the ride."

Three Dog waited until he heard the bottom door shut and then darted lightly down the steps, checking to make sure they were truly alone. When he came back up, Faith was sitting in his bedroom, which was where he also broadcast his news reports, bits of advice, old recordings of Daring Dashwood's 'stories' and music. "Goddamn kid, what the Hell you think you're doing running around with someone like the Undertaker?" He demanded, glaring at her like she had lost her mind.

Faith could only stare at him for a moment, finally recovering herself. "I... What?"

"The UNDERTAKER, why are YOU running around with him? Have you lost your damn mind?"

"I really don't know what you're talking about. Look, Three Dog, I'm here about-"

"I know why you're here, Faith, you're here about your dad, but we need to talk about 'Taker down there first." Three Dog gestured at the floor, his eyes concerned as he stared at her. "How the hell did you wind up meeting him?"

"Megaton."

"Megaton? I thought he was in Rivet City?"

"I um, have no idea what you're talking about."

"Course not; you're fresh out of the Vault, right? You've probably only been to Megaton, right?"

She could only nod.

Three Dog ran a hand down his face, shaking his head. "Dear God... James is a damn fool... Leaving you in that Vault and not expecting you to chase after him."

"You know my father?" Faith demanded, shooting out of her chair, feeling her heart beginning to pound furiously in her chest.

"Course I do, he's a good man, your dad. A bit on the slow side when it comes to knowing his own daughter's fool tendencies but a good guy." Three Dog dropped down on the desk besides his bed, nudging aside some old papers. "Look, how much do you know about-"

"Mark."

He grimaced. "Calaway."

"That he used to be a mercenary? That he saved my life, twice."

"Kid, listen to me, whatever he's done for you, it's going to come at a price, trust me. A man don't get the nickname of the 'Undertaker' just because."

She frowned, feeling curiosity stirring in her stomach along with a ball of dread. "How, how did he get that name?" She asked hesitantly.

Three Dog fixed her with a look that was almost sympathetic, but mostly disapproving. "Use your head kid, how do you THINK a man gets the moniker 'Undertaker'?"

"By um, burying a lot of people?"

"Something like that. 'Taker used to run with the Talon Company, a bunch of mercenaries for hire, and there isn't a job they won't take, you following me?"

She nodded.

"He was a little too good at his job, if you know what I mean. Got himself well known all across the Wasteland, not many people were too keen on even allowing him near settlements to trade, he's dangerous. Well, as it goes, taking contracts wasn't satisfying him, wasn't dangerous enough so he got involved in... other things." Three Dog shook his head. "Whatever it is he's doing now, with you, don't think for one damn minute that there isn't some ulterior motive, Faith, you understand me?"

Faith didn't know what to think, the only thing she could was just nod again.

"Let me have a drag."

Mark arched an eyebrow, glancing down at Sarah and passed over his cigarette; sneering when she took a puff and immediately began hacking. "Did I mention it's unfiltered?"

"No, you bastard, you didn't." She wheezed, refusing to pass it back and waited until the coughing fit had passed before taking a more cautious hit from it, this time prepared. "You never did tell me who the kid was."

He noted the hint of disdain in her tone when she said 'kid', shrugging as he turned back to stare at the rain that was pouring down. Rain was an unusual occurrence these days, a welcomed one, but unusual. That didn't mean he was about to go out into it, hell no.

Rain absorbed radiation, even though it had been 200 years since the Great War, there was plenty of radiation still around. Rain just sort of... 'riled' it up and he wasn't risking turning into a goddamn Ghoul, oh HELL no.

Sarah was staring up at him patiently; she had no intention of leaving until she got her answer, though she DID step back underneath the ledge. "Well, who is she?"

"Just a kid from Megaton."

"Really... Because she doesn't look like any kid from the Wasteland, she's too fucking pale. She got radiation sickness?"

"No."

"Live inside all her damn life?'

The corners of his lips twitched at that. "You could say something like that."

"She's from one of those vaults, isn't she?"

Mark shifted so he could stare down at her, locking eyes with the Commander of the most elite faction in the Brotherhood of Steel. Sarah had earned her spurs so to speak at a very young age. She was a tactical genius, deadly as hell (which he found sexy) and also cold as stone. She was devoted to one man, her father and she lived for one thing only: the next mission.

Sarah's eyes lit up when he didn't reply, just inhaled on his cigarette. "She is, she's from a vault. How did she get out I wonder?" She waited for him to give her some kind of answer, not surprised when he didn't. "But why, and this is the million cap question, are you with her? What's she got that you want? Or what has she promised you, hmm?"

Mark spit out the remains of his cigarette into the rain, inhaling sharply when Sarah suddenly pressed herself against him; his mind automatically going to a few stolen moments with her, groaning. "Damn it, Lyons..."

She reached back to pull her hair free from the ponytail she wore it in, shaking out her blonde tresses. For once, she wasn't wearing her suit of power armor, in plain cloth pants and a long-sleeved coarse shirt, but it did allow for him to feel her body pressing against his.

Even though Faith had never and probably would never press herself like this to him, he could only imagine the difference between her toned yet still curvy body and Sarah's muscular but... not quite so lush figure. Damn that kid... she was really beginning to fuck him up.

"What's the matter, Calaway?" Sarah taunted, her arms snaking around his neck. "You're telling me you don't want me?" When he said nothing, she smirked; actually snickering at him; something not many people could get away with. "I see, that little girl has you whipped, eh? She does, doesn't she?" She continued taunting, feeling him tensing against her. "And she probably hasn't even given it to you either, you poor sap."

Growling, Mark grabbed a fistful of her hair and jerked her up until she was standing on her tip toes, his mouth slamming down on hers in an angry, violent kiss.

Sarah all but purred.

Chapter Text

Chapter 11: Along The Potomac

Faith exited Three Dog's wing of the building feeling emotionally drained. He had wanted her to go recover a dish for him, a communication relay dish to be exact; to replace his now bullet riddled one that wasn't broadcasting very well. Which would explain why Gob was always banging on his radio back in Megaton, on the current dish, clear reception was only going to happen within a few miles. But after extracting promises from her that she would enlist her father's aid in helping Three Dog with more than just the dish, but with helping with the 'Good Fight', he had relented and told her she needed to seek out Dr. Li in Rivet City. He had also told her that if she was going to be asinine enough to travel in Calaway's company, she shouldn't bank on him getting past the bridge into Rivet City.

So tired, but with a whole new slew of questions for Mark, she trudged down the steps; emerging onto the small inner balcony that overlooked the main floor. Gripping the reinforced railing, she stared down at all the crates packed full of ammunition, medical supplies and whatever else it was that the Brotherhood of Steel had brought with them.

"Well, hello there, Faith."

Faith turned around to find Knight Finley walking along the wall behind her, decked out in full power armor minus his helmet, his laser rifle cradled in his left arm. Hesitating for a moment, she managed a smile. "Knight Finley."

"Oh, just call me Finley." He returned the smile, extending his arm.

Mindful of the unforgiving armor, she slowly linked her arm with his, allowing him to guide her down the remaining stairs. "I was looking for Mark."

"Calaway?" He frowned somewhat. "He never came down."

"Oh?"

"There's a back stairwell, he probably stepped outside for a cigarette."

She nodded.

Three Dog had told her about the back stairs, how it would probably be easier for them to leave that way then try braving the square again, even though the Behemoth was dead. Super Mutants still ravaged downtown D.C., this would be the quickest, safest way out.

"Here." He gestured to a crate before disappearing into one of the side rooms, returning quickly with a tin bowl of... Blamco Mac 'n Cheese. "It's fresh." He promised.

Faith stared down at the bowl; really hating this shit but forced herself to eat it, knowing it would probably taste good when she was in the middle of some damn tunnel with nothing but roach meat to eat.

"When you're done, I want to give your side a look."

She nodded again. "Thank you, by the way, for... for taking care of me."

"You're welcome."

The awkwardness that ensued was ended when Mark came thundering down the stairs, a scowl on his face. Sarah was right behind looking very pleased with herself; she was also fastening the clasp on her pants.

He halted at the bottom step when he seen Faith; not even noticing when Sarah collided into his back.

Faith looked at him and then to Sarah, feeling her cheeks beginning to burn harshly.

Finley just cleared his throat, wishing he were anywhere but in this room. "Shall we then, Faith?" He asked after a moment when it became clear nobody was going to say anything.

"Yeah, sure." She set aside her untouched food and quickly got up, following him out.

Mark just groaned.

Three days later, silence was still the rule as Faith and Mark made their way south along the Potomac River towards Rivet City. Faith didn't talk and Mark didn't try to engage her, too busy keeping an eye out for Super Mutants.

Faith wasn't really thinking about anything but getting to Rivet City and finding her father, her mind reeling as she thought of everything she didn't know about him. She had always known he wasn't happy in Vault 101, but she had never figured he'd leave it either. Hell, she had always assumed he had been born in the Vault, recent findings had told her otherwise.

Along with the burning drive to find him was another: to discover the truth. Just what the hell else was he hiding from her? Why did he leave her behind?

"Faith, watch-"

Mark's words came too late, Faith realized with a jolt of pure panic that she was about to walk into a gaping mouth; a mouth that had... three... forked tongues and brown, acidic ooze seeping from all three. She screamed.

If there would have been time to roll his eyes, Mark would have. Instead, he shoved Faith roughly out of the way before a wad of saliva could hit her; none too pleased when it got his chest. Instantly, he began to wipe the radiated goo off of him with his gloved hands. "Son of a bitch..." He growled, keeping one eye on the waist creature that was moving towards him as quickly as it could.

It was a Centaur, another one of the Capital Wasteland's mutated residents. Its head somewhat resembled that of a human and it crawled awkwardly on limbs that were somewhat human-esque but that's where the similarities ended. It did not walk but crawled... the arms and legs splayed like a mutated toad's. On its meaty, flesh covered stomach was a row of upper and lower teeth, jutting out of the skin as if to bite the unwary.

All in all, not a pleasant looking thing. And usually, they were companions of Super Mutants. Thanks to Faith's untimely scream, Super Mutants were now approaching; their rough voices sounding very excited; which wasn't a good thing.

"Faith, into the water!"

"Are you fucking serious?" She shouted back angrily, having recovered her poise though she was still pale; now armed with the Chinese assault rifle Finley had given her. "We'll come out with feelers and webbed feet!"

"Better than either dyin' or whatever it is they do with the ones they don't kill!" He was already running towards the river, grabbing her arm along the way.

Faith had time to take a deep breath before he was throwing her over the edge of the waist high railing that separated broken sidewalk and the icy depths fifteen feet below. She had no idea if Super Mutants or the other monsters could swim, but... it probably didn't matter as the water was radioactive anyways, she was probably going to mutate into some kind of fish spawn and live happily ever after... with her fish spawn idiot mercenary.

Providing she didn't drown first. Living in a Vault did not equip a person for certain physical things... like long distance running, football and swimming. There hadn't been tubs, like she had seen in Megaton, there had been showers. Faith was panicking worse underwater than when she had seen that hideous thing, that she could have shot. Now all she could do was struggle with the weight that was pulling her down.

Mark surfaced, flicking his hair out of his face and turned in a circle, treading water easily. He glanced up, not surprised to see the Super Mutants already walking away. He didn't know if they could swim, but it had been his general experience that they wouldn't. He'd also seen a Centaur drown; those fat globs couldn't swim at all, thank God for small favors.

"Faith?" He called after spitting out water; knowing as soon as they were on land, a healthy injection of Radaway was in order. If he had known they'd of been going for a swim, he would've insisted they took some Rad-X. "Faith?" He scanned the opposite bank, up and down the river and felt his stomach knotting up. "SON OF A BITCH!" He dived back under.

"Mark?" Shivering Faith, kept on clinging to the stone pillar she had caught hold of. She had managed to surface only to find herself drifting down river, having a vague idea that paddling her limbs would have been a good idea but she was just so damn tired. "Mark!"

Fighting back bitter tears, she managed to pull herself around the pillar and onto a slippery cement bank, digging her fingernails into the grit as she hauled herself up; cursing when she lost her grip and went down. When she had caught herself again and worked her way back up; she became aware she was bleeding; her numb fingers going to her chin. When she pulled them away and looked down, she saw blood. "Great, just fucking great." She cursed, knowing she must have scraped it rather badly when she had fallen on that slope.

After getting her bearings, she looked to her left and then to her right. Then she looked directly ahead and wished she hadn't.

"Sweet cheeks," A man around Mark's age said, only he had an accent she didn't recognize. "All those weapons of yours... drop them."

Her eyes were crossed, staring at the pistol aimed directly for her mouth. Nodding, she began disarming herself, not moving for the hunting knife she had started carrying in her boot at Mark's prompting. When she was finished, she raised her shaking arms, feeling the cold and exhaustion taking over. "I'm not looking for any trouble, mister." She said as calmly as possible.

He was holstering his gun, smiling broadly at her. "Hey, no trouble, I just don't like anyone ruining my parties, right girls?"

Faith stared as two women wearing thin robes over sheer... shirts, nightclothes... lingerie, that was the word, approached from behind.

"Right." Agreed the colored one, her eyes thoughtful as she studied Faith. "Dukov, honey, maybe we should get her inside?"

"And dose her, she was in the river." The other added, wrinkling her nose.

"And out of those clothes!" He laughed, slinging her arm around Faith, kicking away the assault rifle. "Come on sweet cheeks, Dukov has JUST what you need."

Faith could only let him guide her inside his home.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12: Go With the Flow

Cherry and Fantasia were the two women, Faith learned. She had been taken into a building that was surprisingly intact for the most part.

"Take her upstairs, Fantasia." Dukov ordered with a lazy wave of his hand, strolling across the littered floor to what looked like a bar. "Get her taken care of."

"Sure thing, honey."

Faith felt herself being tugged towards a flight of stairs, trying to take in as much of the room as she could. It was a large, open room and she easily spotted three doors, not including the one they had come in through. She also noted the many empty bottles of booze, a double amount of full bottles and the red inhalers that made her flinch. Jet. The same drug Leo Stahl had been hopped up on. What really made her worry, and her flesh crawl was the giant, mussed bed in the middle of the floor.

Ew.

Once they were on the second floor, Faith was even more disgusted than before. Eye level with her was now a type of sculpture made out of wire and bulbed lights, a sculpture of that dangled from the ceiling, a sculpture of two people engaged in... sex.

"Come on kid; let's get you taken care of." Fantasia said gently, guiding Faith around the narrow walkway to her and Cherry's 'dressing room'.

"Please, I have to get out of here."

Fantasia shook her head, glancing out the half broken door. "Look, Dukov isn't so bad. I mean, yeah he's got a mouth on him and likes to party, but... Really, that's not that bad compared to what's out there." She gestured towards the outside.

Faith did not find that comforting.

"Damn it..." Mark cursed as he pulled himself out of the Potomac. Drenched and exhausted, worried and a bit pissed off; he made for what looked to be a small camp to his right, just under a stone outcropping.

"Son, don't you know that swimming in a radiated river will kill you?"

Fatigue made him slow on the draw. Sighing, Mark raised his hands up in the universal gesture for 'I surrender'. "Well Sir, it seemed like a good idea at the time." He said, slowly turning around.

An older man, one of the Wasteland's many harmless occupants, a scavenger just trying to get by stood before Mark. His weathered face was focused, as was the standard sawed off shotgun he was aiming at Mark. At this close of range, that piece of shit gun could actually damage something.

"Well son, if you can mind your manners, you're welcome to come dry off by my fire. Not a raider, are you?"

"No, Sir."

"Not one of those damn mercs I seen patrolling?"

"No, Sir."

"Armed to the teeth, I'll wager."

"Yes, Sir."

The man began laughing, shaking his head as he started back towards his camp. "Well, come on then. And if you plan to shoot me, let me get one last meal in first."

Chuckling in spite of himself, Mark followed.

"When I do this, it is going to hurt like a son of a bitch." Fantasia said as she swabbed Faith's arm with alcohol. "When did you last get a dose of Rad-Away?"

"Uh..." Faith frowned, watching as Fantasia rifled in a cupboard, withdrawing a hypodermic needle and pre-filled syringe wrapped in protective plastic. Most likely Finley had given her a booster while she had been unconscious but as she had just gone for an involuntary swim... "I have Rad-X." She offered hopefully.

"That helps lessen the amount of radiation you get but this will take care of what you have."

Faith had never been fond of needles, something her father had understood as he wasn't too keen on them either, even if he was a doctor. Being an only child had its perks as he had usually given her immunization shots with a healthy dose of a pain killer or while she was asleep. Perks. Though the perks of being her father's child had run out when he had left and the Overseer had decided SHE was also a threat to his well-ordered world.

To distract herself from the all too rapidly approaching needle, Faith began studying Fantasia. She was beautifully dark, her skin the color of what chocolate must have been, and her closely cropped hair a dull black and so tight and curly Faith was sure any comb would break instantly. A wide nose, large oval; coffee-colored eyes and a generous mouth, Fantasia really had a lovely face.

Though when she stuck Faith with the needle, all Faith's kind thoughts went right out the figurative window. "OUCH!"

Fantasia clucked her tongue. "Give it a minute and it'll hurt even more."

"Gee, thanks, - SON OF A BITCH!" It was like liquid fire rolling through her veins, destroying the deadly radiation but at a painful price, leaving a slight burn behind.

Fantasia rubbed Faith's back gently, in slow circles, knowing the worst had yet to come.

"Oh..." Faith doubled over, one hand wrapping around her stomach, the other flying to her head.

"Well," Fantasia said, trying to look on the brighter side of things. "At least you're rad free, right?"

"How'd you wind up in the river?"

Mark accepted the steaming mug of tea and whiskey he was passed; sitting on an old cushion with a blanket wrapped around him before the fire. He took a slow sip; letting the liquid warm him from the inside out as he considered that. "Super Mutants."

"Ah... that's a damn good reason for a swim."

"I thought so." Mark studied his new acquaintance thoughtfully; the guy had said his name was Stephen. "Seen anybody else drifting along the river, recently?" He asked in a would be casual tone.

"Hmmm... no." Stephen shook his head, stroking his filthy beard and then frowned. "But I did see the jackass across the way," He gestured across the river. "Hauling someone inside."

"The jackass across the way?"

"Dukov." Stephen made a disgusted face. "He's got himself a nice little set-up in that building, won't let anything that doesn't have tits inside. The caravans stop by once or twice a month, so he keeps himself pretty well stocked, him and his broads."

"Broads?"

"Mmhmm, couple of women living with him, I don't really know the situation, but I've never gotten close enough to ask."

"And you saw him taking someone inside?"

"Yep."

Mark's eyes narrowed.

When it felt like her head and stomach were no longer going to explode, Faith submitted to a cold sponge bath; hating to admit it but being clean felt good. Who the hell knew what was in the Potomac besides radiation and water?

"There we go..." Fantasia smiled, using an old blanket to dry Faith's hair; fluffing the black tresses until she was satisfied with the volume. "You really are..."

Faith waited for it with a sigh. She had been told two different things that conflicted with each other. That with her fair, unblemished 'Vault' skin; and relatively full, healthy figure... she was fat and ugly. At the severe end of the spectrum, she had also been propositioned because men 'liked a woman with meat on her bones', which was apparently rare on the surface.

"Beautiful, you know that? Where the hell do you come from?"

"A vault."

Fantasia nodded, comprehension dawning in her eyes. "That explains it. It has to be hard living up here, after being in a vault, huh?"

"Eh... somewhat. For the most part, I like it." Minus getting shot, the Super Mutants, asshole men...

As if to say she understood, Fantasia flashed another smile; now holding out a garment similar to what she was wearing. It was pink, sheer and made out of a fabric Faith was genuinely afraid to touch in case she might ruin it. If how Fantasia's appeared was any indication, the cups of the thigh high garment would only cover half her breasts.

"I can't wear that."

"Why not? It's clean. Put it on."

"No, I can't wear that." Faith insisted, folding her arms over her naked chest and shook her head.

"Look, if you want out of here, you'll have to talk to Dukov, he won't force you to stay you know. But he's not going to really pay any attention to you unless you... are appealing to him. Then you can actually talk, providing you can keep him off of you."

"Are you serious?"

Fantasia nodded, a moment's regret crossing her face. "Look, it's not... a bad life. We're safe here, we have a roof over our heads and food for our bellies. We just... go with the flow, catch my drift?"

"You're his whore?"

"Basically, yes."

Chapter Text

Chapter 13: A Little Party

Dukov was sitting on the edge of the bed, an inhaler in one hand, a glass of vodka in the other when Fantasia and Faith came downstairs. He smiled broadly when he seen the woman from the river all cleaned up, and in a beautiful piece of lingerie. He took his time in perusing her, starting with her bare feet and working his way up. His smile grew even wider if possible, when he got to her upper thighs and then where the fabric formed a slight triangle where the silk clung to her thighs and sex; absentmindedly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Faith felt practically naked, keeping her arms folded over her chest; her face burning. Her fingers were itching to pull a trigger; to lodge a bullet right between his greedy eyes but he had taken her guns, he had made her drop them outside. Maybe he had retrieved them; maybe she could somehow get her hands on one... Actually, anything that could be used as a weapon was welcomed at this point.

"Sweet cheeks, you are very sexy, very very, sexy." Dukov said appreciatively, letting the inhaler clatter to the floor as he stood up.

"Look, I'm... grateful that you allowed me to be taken care of, but I have a friend out there that I need to find." Faith said, causing him to halt in his tracks. "I need my things back and I'll just be on my way."

"What's the rush?"

"I have business in Rivet City."

"Rivet City is miles away, you spend the night here." Dukov said, still smiling though he didn't move towards her, holding his arms open as Fantasia strolled over to him, leaning into his side as her arms slinked about his neck. "Besides, it's getting dark. Super Mutants will be out, you're safe here."

"But-"

"Tomorrow, you go."

This Dukov lived in what had once been a hotel, or an apartment building. Either way, it had a lot of floors. Mark was studying the place through the lens of his Sniper, across the Potomac. Night was rapidly falling, and he knew he needed to either get across now or wait it out until the morning. Morning wasn't an option, he had no idea what kind of guy this Dukov was and he wasn't going to leave it to chance. In the long run, it was a good thing he had come, for Faith at any rate. Seeing as how he had to keep bailing her ass out of trouble. She would have been dead within a day if Walter hadn't insisted she bring him.

That was one fortunate kid.

Faith would definitely not be getting any sleep. She sat at the 'bar' and kept on eye on Dukov and his two 'female companions', while sipping a bottle of Nuka-Cola. While he had insisted she stay until morning, Dukov hadn't asked or seem to expect her to join in their little 'party'. Which was good because as soon as the trio had hopped themselves up on Jet and started in on the booze, she had excused herself to the bathroom and broken off a piece of the already broken mirror. A shard of mirror didn't seem like much in the way of protection, but it would suffice.

So currently, she was trying to figure out how to sit comfortably without exposing herself and contemplating the idea of hunting up her shit. Fantasia had murmured something about safekeeping, wondering exactly what that meant. In the back of her mind, she was concerned for Mark but on the other hand, he was much better at this Wasteland survival thing than her. A lot better.

Mirelurks, Mark fucking hated Mirelurks. He had NO idea what they were before the mutation occurred and he didn't want to know. What he did know was that they were about as tall as him, had very sharp little teeth, were grey and covered in a hard as hell shell and had giant, razor blade sharp pinchers. As if those pinchers -which were larger than his damn head- weren't enough, the inside of the pincher's, the part that 'clamped' each possessed a fine ridge of saw-like growths.

"Fuck…" He grunted, swimming harder, trying not to focus on anything but the other side of the river. Mirelurks were in the main, water dwellers, so that and given their appearance, he was assuming they were lobsters, or crabs, on steroids. It was hard to concentrate though when he was worried about one of them coming up underneath him; trying not to imagine what one of those pinchers would feel like as it ripped through his body.

"You like that, Cherry?"

Slap.

"Oh yes!"

Another slap.

Followed by a squeal.

Faith clapped both hands over her ears, sitting on the top of the stairs; leaning against the wall and trying not to hear what she was hearing. She already had her eyes squeezed shut, not that she could see anything from this vantage point anyway.

She didn't dare go any further, Dukov could see her from her and apparently that was what he wanted, her in his line of vision. She had tried disappearing into one of the rooms when the 'fun' started, only for him to drag her out with a gun to her head. He had said something about 'stealing', she hadn't tried hiding again.

When she risked peeking again, she found a very naked Dukov standing in front of her, balancing himself on the steps precariously.

"Come on, sweet cheeks," He tried taking her hand, grinning when she scooted back. "Come downstairs and join the party."

"Dukov, let her alone!" Fantasia called, laughing as Cherry added something under her breath. "You got more than you can handle with us, baby."

Dukov snorted, not sparing them a look as he advanced on Faith. "Come on, join the party." He repeated, raising the inhaler clenched tightly in his left fist up; his eyes narrowing as he squeezed the trigger.

Jet, Faith really did not like Jet.

A gun would have been so much easier; Mirelurks were NOT easy to kill with a knife. Mark was going to chalk this one up just too plain old-fashioned dumb luck. Too bad there hadn't been any witnesses though, it would have made on HELL of a story. But then again, there were plenty of those about him floating around as it was.

Glad he had had a shot of Rad-X; Mark crouched down and began creeping towards the building, his eyes narrowing in on all the landmines and tripwires that lay between him and the double doors.

Great, just great.

"Shit, run Faith!" Fantasia shrieked when the kid actually lashed out and kicked Dukov in the lower stomach, her brown eyes wide.

"Cherry, my gun!" A more than pissed off Dukov bellowed, hunched over only slightly. "You stupid little bitch!" He screamed at Faith.

Faith had had enough and if she was going to get shot or something, she was going to earn it. She had told him NO, and he had insisted on trying to have his way with her. He had pinned her on the second floor, backing her into a corner… Faith had attacked.

"Dukov, please, just-"

"SHUT UP, FANTASIA!"

When he spun to peer down at the terrified Fantasia, Faith took the opening. She delivered a spinning heel kick to the back of his head; watching as Dukov went flying over the railing and rushed over to look down.

He had landed on the bed, flat on his back, groaning in pain.

All three women jumped when the bed broke suddenly, Dukov letting out another groan as he was jarred when the mattresses collapsed on top of the shoddy framework.

"Well good goddamn."

Faith damn near fell over the railing herself when she heard Mark's voice.

He stepped further into the hotel, keeping the barrel of his sniper aimed at Cherry, who let the .44 she had been carrying clatter to the ground. "Faith?"

"Up here."

He glanced over his shoulder and grinned. "About damn time you did two things right."

"Two?'

"Finally took care of yourself."

She grinned.

"And showed off what the good Lord gave you."

The grin disappeared, quickly replaced with a scowl. When he actually tilted his head and tried to look UP the nightie, she flipped him off and retreated.

Laughing, Mark turned his attention to Dukov.

Dukov began whimpering as the giant approached, not missing the decidedly evil glint in the other man's eyes. "Please… please, I have money…"

"I don't want your money."

"Jet? Booze?"

Mark shook his head no.

"Broads?"

"Your soul."

Chapter Text

Chapter 14: When She had been Safe

Dukov had mercifully been allowed to put his clothes on. Currently, he was crouching against a wall on the second floor, staring cross eyed into the barrel of a gun that was being held by, of all people, the Undertaker. "Please, don't kill me." He pleaded, bringing a shaking hand up and tried pushing the gun away; groaning when he only got it dug into the flesh between his eyes. "I didn't touch her, I swear it!"

Mark's grey-green eyes flashed dangerously. "You better hope for your sake you didn't." He growled, fighting the urge to pull the trigger.

"I didn't!"

Snorting, Mark hocked a wad of spit right onto Dukov's face, smirking when the other man began squealing in disgust. "Dukov… you have something I want."

"Anything you want, Undertaker, Sir! Jet! Booze, anything!"

"I want your key."

"M-my key?"

Mark nodded, his eyes gleaming. "Your key."

"What is he doing?" Cherry demanded, staring up at the ceiling with narrowed eyes, a cigarette firmly tucked between her thin lips.

Shrugging, Faith finished buttoning her pants. After Mark had established that Dukov was no longer in charge, Fantasia had graciously returned her belongings. "Murdering him slowly, I would hope." She said, her eyes lighting up at the thought.

"Does this mean we don't have to sleep with him anymore?"

Fantasia rolled her eyes. "Who knows?"

"Well, I am getting the hell out of here. I'm going to Rivet City, I can't do this anymore." Cherry shook her head, cupping her head in her hands. "My nerves can't take this anymore."

Faith and Fantasia exchanged looks.

When Mark finally came stomping down the stairs, he looked grimly pleased with himself, his eyes surveying the three women. Cherry and Fantasia were curled up on the broken bed, sound asleep while Faith was pacing back and forth. "You changed."

"Did you honestly expect me to stay in that… that thing?" She retorted, tossing the empty Nuka Cola bottle over her shoulder, ignoring the shattering of glass.

"I was hoping, and it's called lingerie, kid."

Faith wondered if he was serious, leaning back against the bar as he approached, her eyes scanning for signs of blood or something, she hadn't heard any gunfire. "Dukov?"

Mark pressed his body against hers, feeling her sharp intake of breath as he leaned over to reach beneath the counter; pulling back when he had his prize. A bottle of whiskey. "Dead." He grunted, stepping away from her as he unscrewed the cap off the bottle, taking a long swig.

"That's disgusting." She commented, watching with an upturned lip as the brown alcohol spilled down his chin, trying not to listen to his exaggerated gulping sounds.

Laughing wickedly, Mark wiped his chin off with the back of his hand. "Sorry kid, killin' people is thirsty work."

"You're a sick man, Calaway."

He didn't bother dignifying that with an answer, knowing it was true. Yawning, Mark turned to survey the room, arching an eyebrow when he seen the two broads sleeping. "You tired?"

"A bit." She admitted reluctantly, following his gaze, not about to share a bed with them and shot him a 'don't even think about it' look.

Ignoring her, he crossed the floor and lifted the blanket.

Cherry and Fantasia rolled off of it and onto the floor, both waking up to stare at him groggily.

"Find somewhere else to sleep." He ordered, stifling another yawn as he settled down onto the bed; groaning and reached beneath him to pull out an empty bottle; tossing it aside. "C'mere Faith."

"Uh, I think I'll just-"

"Woman, if I have to get out of this bed and get you, you're gonna regret it. Understand me?"

Faith considered him for a brief moment, groaning when he actually made to get up and dropped down onto the end of the bed, pulling back off her boots. "Can't we just leave?" She asked, watching in mild amusement as Cherry and Fantasia hauled their asses elsewhere.

"Not tonight." He scowled, bending forward to grab her by the hair and began pulling her back, ignoring her whines. "Woman, I just swam across that damn river, fought off a Mirelurk and risked my dick falling off from the cold just to save your ass."

For the most part. When Stephen had said the name 'Dukov', Mark had found himself with another reason to come sooner.

He had a point, Faith reluctantly conceded as she freed her hair from his fist; shooting him another nasty look before laying down on the opposite side of the bed; trying not to think of what she could be lying in. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He grunted, draping an arm over his face, laying on his back. "Though… if you really wanted to thank me, you'd go put back on that lingerie."

"I'm not THAT grateful."

"He's dead, he's dead!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Mark bellowed, not pulling his face out of Faith's hair, too comfortable spooned against her; one massive thigh draping over her legs. "Fuckin' women…"

Groaning, Faith nestled back against the warmth; reaching around to pull the blanket over her shoulders and then frowned. The blanket wasn't a blanket but an arm, and the hand attached to that arm was now kneading her right breast. "CALAWAY!"

"You shut the fuck up too, tryin' to sleep." He rumbled, his breath hot against the back of her neck.

Vowing to do him some serious harm, Faith began the process of freeing herself from his grasp; not amused in the slightest when he chuckled and only tightened his grip. "Calaway, c'mon, I gotta piss."

"Hold it."

Cherry came flying down the steps, wearing a pair of tattered brown pants and a tank top, her face pale. "You… you killed Dukov!" She wailed, pointing a trembling finger at Mark. "Why? Who's going to protect us now?"

"I'm sure you'll find someone else to spread them legs for." He snorted, raising his head off the bed in order to look at her. "And no, that wasn't an offer."

"I'm not interested."

"Calaway, still gotta pee."

Sighing, he knew he was up for the day and groaned, reluctantly pulling himself away from Faith. He wasn't surprised when she rolled off the bed and away from him, flashing her a lascivious grin as he purposefully adjusted the crotch of his pants.

"You're a sick man." She muttered, heading for the bathroom.

He was, he agreed. Though… he was also distracted when Cherry and Fantasia -where the hell did these women get their names? - stood directly before him. "I said no." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, tempted to just take them out as well, tie up all loose ends so to speak. "You've got a good deal here, man up a bit and you'll be able to keep it going."

"Man up?" Fantasia echoed, arching an eyebrow.

"You heard me."

They shared a look, both wondering if they could actually do this.

"Well, here we are."

Faith frowned, wondering if Calaway was serious as she looked around. Besides the fact that they were now apparently by the waterfront, she couldn't really tell the difference between this portion of what remained of the city and where they were currently.

Shaking his head exasperatedly, Mark pointed towards the river. "Use your eyes, kid."

It took her a moment to realize she was staring at a boat, a ship. An old ship at that, and remarkably it seemed to be intact, for the most part. "Wow…"

"Yeah, wow. Come on then."

She followed Mark across the street and up what he called a 'boarding plank'.

"Water, please, just a little water."

Faith's attention was drawn to a man sitting with his back against a rusted sheet of metal, what could be seen of his body covered in sores. He was suffering from radiation sickness.

"Please, just a little water, purified water." He pleaded, holding out his hands towards them.

Mark rolled his eyes.

Taking pity, Faith reached into her satchel and pulled out a half empty bottle, handing it to the poor man. She tried not to stare at him, at what could very well be her someday if by chance she was an outcast from the settlements.

"Bless you, God bless you." He whimpered, twisting the cap off with gnarled fingers and took a small sip, offering the bottle back.

"No, you keep it."

"Are… are you sure?" His eyes widened in disbelief. "I don't have any money, miss, I-"

"Please, just keep it." She urged, gently pushing the water back towards him. It damn near broke her heart to see the way he clutched it to his chest. This was one of those moments where she wished she was still in the Vault, where nobody ever went without, where purified water was taken for granted.

When she had been safe.

Chapter Text

Chapter 15: Marketplace

"Halt."

Faith arched an eyebrow, watching as two heavily armed guards approached, both bearing rifles. They had had to wait for the very long bridge (gang plank, or whatever Mark had called it) to be swung around before crossing and now this.

"You're not allowed in Rivet City, Undertaker." One of them said from behind the full-face visor of his helmet.

"Come on, Harkness." Mark growled, ignoring the 'what did you do' look on Faith's face. "That was MONTH'S ago."

"And the Muddy Rudder still looks like it did after you got done."

"It was all just a misunderstanding. I'm sure Sister has forgiven and forgotten."

"Sister wants you dead, 'Taker."

"Yeah, well… a lot of people do." Mark said, spreading his arms wide in a 'what are you gonna do' gesture, shrugging. "Look, my friend here has business in Rivet City, just let us in."

"Is she with you?"

"No, he's with me." Faith said firmly, assuming the air of command. Just from following the short exchange between Calaway and this Harkness, she was quickly gathering he wasn't very popular. How unsurprising.

"And just who the hell are you?"

"My name is Faith."

"Got a last name, Faith?"

She shook her head.

"Got any fancy nicknames, like the Undertaker, here?"

"Um, no. Not unless you'd like to call me 'kid', like everyone else?"

"Smartass." Harkness sighed, pressing the side of his helmet, the visor sliding up and eyeballed Mark. "Listen good, 'Taker, because I'm only going to say this one time, understand?"

Mark nodded, his jaw clenched.

"If you so much as fart in public, 'Taker, we're throwing you in with the Mirelurks, got me?" Harkness didn't wait for his answer but instead turned his gaze onto face. "And we'll throw you in with him, got me, kid? You're responsible for him. If he fucks up, I'm holding YOU accountable."

Faith just nodded too.

"Alright then, let them in."

Faith scanned the market, well aware that a lot of eyes were on the man who stood just off to the side of her and inwardly heaved a sigh. She didn't want to know what the hell he had done, but she did know if there was a repeat, she was going to shoot him herself. Especially since she was now responsible for him. As they passed one of the stalls, a man in well cared for pants, a neat but stained white shirt and green blazer hastily put up a 'closed' sign, eyeing them apprehensively.

"Not interested in your crap, Bannon, you-" Mark broke off when he felt Faith's elbows in his ribs, glancing down at her.

"Do you fucking mind?" She hissed. "This isn't just your ass on the line anymore."

"Then you should have left me outside." He retorted, draping his arm over her shoulders. To Faith it no doubt was a sign of possession or some other shit, to him… he was protecting her as Flak from across the way, one of the proprietors of Rivet City's ammo and guns shop, was eyeballing her in a very unhealthy way. "Come on, it's late and whatever it is you're here for is going to have to wait."

"So, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying, we need to find a place to sleep. There's a common-"

"NO." Faith had been absorbed in the market until he said 'common', not even wanting to imagine a common 'house' on a ship. All the people milling about, hawking their wares, buying things… it was impressive. On the other hand, being aboard a ship… the smells were less than appealing. "No common house, rooms, whatever." She said calmly, trying to shrug his arm off of her. "Is there, is there a hotel or something?" That was highly unlikely but she had to try. To her surprise, Mark nodded, looking a bit amused.

"Sure is, the Weatherly. Run by Vera, we can get a room from her." He hoped, trying not to smirk. "Come on kid, follow me." They had gotten to the other side of the market when they were stopped; this time by a dirty looking woman with short hair. "Cindy." Mark greeted, a half-smile on his face. "Where's that no good husband of yours?"

Faith folded her arms over her chest. She was beginning to get the impression there wasn't a single place or person he didn't either know or know of, and the same could have been said for him, it seemed that almost everyone knew who he was. Her mind replayed the conversation she had had with Three Dog, about running with the 'Undertaker', the mercenary and frowned. She had noticed… he appeared to know a LOT of women.

"He's around here somewhere." Cindy chuckled, glancing down at Bannon's shop and sighed, shaking her head. "Do you have to rile him up?"

"Still crushin' on that geezer?"

She bit her lower lip and then gestured back towards her shop. "I have something to show you, big man."

Mark looked down at Faith, who was glaring at him murderously. "You can come too."

Snorting, she followed him. It was obvious just what kind of booth Cindy was running, a chem shop. She could only imagine the way Leo Stalh's eyes would pop out if he could see all the drugs laying neatly on their shelves and not locked away like Doc had done in Megaton.

"Look." Cindy was pulling something out of a metal lock box; the lock was broken though. She opened it, smiling as he bent down to examine it; opening a bottle, outright laughing when he quickly recoiled. "You know what that is?"

"How the hell did you get it?"

"Trader, just one problem."

Mark rubbed the back of his neck; his nose tingling from the healthy whiff he had just gotten; his eyes taking on a knowing gleam. "Nobody around here can afford it."

"Exactly."

"So, use it yourself."

She shook her head, scowling. "On who?"

"Your husband, I would imagine."

Faith was so lost it wasn't funny, folding her arms over her chest as she kept looking back and forth between the two. "Uh, hello?" She reddened when Cindy pursed her lips at her, not liking the speculative look on the other woman's face. "What's in the box?"

"Queen Ant Pheromones." Mark said, still rubbing the back of his neck, looking down at her intently. "Know what they're used for?"

"I know what pheromones are." Faith replied, looking confused. "But what would humans want with them?"

Cindy began laughing her ass off, turning around and placed the box on one of the waist high shelves. "Oh, she is just too precious. Here…"

"Cindy…" Mark groaned, watching as she took a very small sample and placed it in a phial, shaking his head. "Please, don't."

Faith couldn't remember if she had ever heard him use that word before, mildly surprised and was even MORE curious. When Cindy handed her the phial, she arched an eyebrow, staring down at it. "What do I do with it?" She asked cautiously.

"Mix it with something to eat, it's good for you, trust me." Cindy chortled, looking downright devious as she surveyed the pair. "I won't even charge you, just this once, and only because you're new here… and funnier than shit."

Mark was just shaking his head.

"I thought you were on good terms with Vera?" Faith asked a half hour later, walking out of the hotel 'lobby' and into the narrow hall, where Mark was currently leaning against one of the steel doors, a key in her hand.

"I am, I'm not on good terms with Sister however."

"Who the fuck is Sister?"

Mark shook his head, glancing towards the door. He was half tempted to go in there and finish what he had started some time ago in the Muddy Rudder but… he didn't doubt Harkness' threat for a second. While he wasn't really that concerned for himself, he was -reluctant to admit as he was- concerned for Faith. Her being such a great swimmer and all.

Scowling, Faith started looking at the numbers on the doors, noting how they didn't have handles but big round wheels, arching an eyebrow. She could only afford one room, even with the numerous caps they had taken from Dukov's place, but she had every intention of making the merc sleep on the floor; having not forgotten the whole sharing a bed thing.

When she got the door open and stepped inside; she damn near screamed.

Mark stared over her head, just shaking his head, trying not to smile. When Faith rounded on him, he shrugged, plastering an innocent expression over his face, knowing that definitely wouldn't look right. "It's not MY fault this is a SHIP, and the cabins are SMALL."

"You can sleep in the commons."

"Not likely kid, looks like we're bunkin' again."

Chapter Text

Chapter 16: In the Muddy Rudder

"You're in luck; usually the cots are really small." Mark knew he shouldn't be provoking Faith, not after the long day they had had but he couldn't help himself. Tormenting Faith was currently his favorite pastime.

Faith just glared at him; her hands balled into fists and planted on her hips. "I want to know just what it is you did to piss everyone here off."

"I don't think so, not tonight." He yawned, eying the bed longingly.

"No, tell me now." She insisted with an uncharacteristic sternness. "Everywhere we go it seems like everyone knows who you are, you know of so many places… I feel like I'm the only person in the Wasteland who doesn't know you but I'm the one person who should."

"Not tonight, Faith." His tone of voice was clipped, becoming colder with each word. "Why don't you go find yourself something to eat?"

She recognized the dismissal and wasn't having it, growing angrier by the second. "Why can't you just answer me?" She all but screamed at him.

Moving faster than his size should have allowed, Mark had her pinned against the steel wall, his upper lip curled into a snarl.

Automatically, Faith tried pushing him away but that was like pushing a brick wall, immovable. "Mark!"

"You want to know why everyone fears and despises me?" He demanded, leaning in so their noses were almost touching, the rage in his eyes quite visible. "Really Faith? Are you sure you want to know? Because if you want to know all about the fuckin' Undertaker, you had better be damn sure you really want to know."

At this point, all Faith wanted was for him to get away from her and made it happen by kneeing him between the legs. When he backed away, cursing and hunched, she bolted from the room.

"No running!" One of the security officers patrolling barked at her.

Faith ignored him, having absolutely no idea where she was going but kept on running anyway.

It took Mark a few moments to calm down and when he did, the realization of what he had done struck him. "Son of a bitch…"

Somehow, Faith found herself at the bottom of the deck, on the lowest deck, standing in front of a door that had a crudely painted sign with the words Muddy Rudder on it. This was where Calaway had apparently caused a ruckus at. Snorting, she pushed open the door and stepped inside; instantly assaulted with stale smoke; the disgusting scents of booze and sweat. It was a bar, why was she not surprised?

After navigating her way down to the actual bar, she glimpsed the other patrons; ignoring the dirty look a woman with burnt blond hair shot her. Unless she missed her guess, a whore. Well, she wasn't here to earn tricks, that woman's job was QUITE safe.

"What can I get you honey?" A tired looking woman from behind the counter asked, wearing a blue rag tied around her head along with a dirty pale grey dress that covered her from the neck to her ankles. When Faith hesitated, the woman's eyes narrowed. "Look, there ain't no freebies down here. You either drink or get-"

"Vodka."

"Alright then."

When Faith hadn't returned in an hour or so, Mark pulled himself off the bed where he had been laying, staring up at the ceiling and wearily set out to look for her. He probably shouldn't have let her wander around by herself but given what he had also done to her… He figured she needed some 'alone' time and he knew he needed 'alone' time to simmer down. The security in Rivet City was fairly good, all things considered, but that didn't mean that shit didn't happen. And if shit was going to happen, he automatically knew it would happen to the naive kid from the damn Vault.

The marketplace was closed so he didn't even bother heading in that direction, knowing damn well Harkness made sure it was cleared out every night before sealing the doors. He had no idea what the Hell she was looking for in RC to begin with, making a mental note to ask. He worked his way down, from deck to deck, room to room and nobody had seen her; well… he was assuming nobody had seen her. Most of his questions were met with quick shakes of the head followed by closing doors.

Sometimes, being him wasn't so good.

In one hour, Faith had a nice buzz going on. She was not much of a drinker, and she usually nursed her drinks, but tonight… tonight was different. There was simply too much on her mind, too much she had dealt with lately. It seemed like the constant thoughts of her father, the near surface tension and fear she was always trying to battle away had broken through tonight.

Undoubtedly helped along by Calaway.

"Hey kid, didn't you come in with 'Taker?"

Sighing, she turned on her stool in order to look at whoever was addressing her, examining the man siting besides her. She recognized him from the marketplace though she didn't know his name. "Yes."

"I'm Shrapnel."

Shrapnel looked older than Calaway, and he was also looking at her in a way that made her uncomfortable. Not sexually, but… like he was sizing her up, determining her worth. That was not a very good feeling.

When she didn't offer her name, he smiled grimly. "Should I just call you kid?"

What the hell was it with people calling her that? Faith sighed and just shrugged. "Sure, everyone else does."

"So, Kid, how is it you're actually traveling with 'Taker and not…" Shrapnel seemed to be considering his next words carefully, staring at her intently. "Do you know what Paradise Falls is?"

"Shrapnel!" The bartender, Belle Bonny gasped, staring at him like he was crazy. "Don't you dare be tellin' them stories here, you understand me? I won't have it; I simply will not have it! He's on the damn ship, don't you even THINK about it."

"She has a right to know, don't you THINK?"

"Who's to say she don't already?"

"Be serious, Belle."

Faith kept glancing back and forth between the two; really wishing she was in on whatever it was everyone else in the world seemed to already know. "What the HELL are you guys talking about?" She demanded, alcohol making her even more pissed off as she took another long swallow.

Belle glanced towards the door, hissing anxiously. "If you INSIST on being a fool, go in the damn backroom!" She muttered, shoving a bottle of vodka in Faith's hands. "Go on, git."

More confused than ever, Faith allowed herself to be dragged through the bar; stepping into what was obviously Belle's sleeping quarters; flinching when she heard the door closing behind them. She was definitely good and buzzed, possibly even drunk. Because if she had been stone cold sober, she never would have allowed herself to be led off like that by someone she didn't know.

Shrapnel sat at Belle's small table, taking the bottle from the kid's hand and poured them each a healthy drink, passing her a glass and gestured to the opposite chair. "Ever heard of Paradise Falls?"

She shook her head no, dropping down heavily into the chair; impatiently pushing strands of hair back from her face.

"You've heard of the slavers though, right?"

"Yeah." Walter had warned her about slavers, along with raiders, before she had left Megaton. "People who round up other people like cattle, right?"

"Round 'em up, tag them and sell them."

"Sell them?" She echoed, frowning. "Can they do that?"

"Why not? Who the hell is going to stop them?" He shot her an 'I know you're drunk but don't be stupid' look. "Only place with law and order are the settlements."

She nodded.

"Anyways, Paradise Falls is the place where the slavers… live, basically. They go out on their little raiding parties, taking people from their homes and dragging them back to the Falls to be sold to the highest bidder, or… other places."

"Okay… So, what does this have to do with Cal- the Undertaker?"

Shrapnel hadn't missed the fact that she had almost said something besides Undertaker but didn't say anything. That definitely answered his question about her association with the man. She wasn't a slave or something. "He used to run with the slavers." He said matter-of-factly.

Her jaw hit the floor.

Chapter Text

Chapter 17: Finding Faith

"Where the fuck is she?"

Belle Bonny had been in the process of ejecting a very drunk Tammy Hargrave from the bar when she heard the angry baritone of the Undertaker. Gasping, she let go of the other woman.

Tammy took one look into his stormy face and threw herself out.

Belle's eyes widened as the Undertaker advanced on her, her gaze darting towards an empty beer bottle within easy reach.

"I wouldn't." He cautioned darkly. "Where is she?"

"P-please, 'Taker, I didn't-"

"WHERE IS SHE?"

Letting out a rasping sob, Belle pointed a trembling finger towards her bedroom door.

Growling, he cracked his neck.

Shrapnel was not surprised in the least when the door was all but torn from its rusting steel frame. If not for two hundred years' worth of wear and tear, lack of general upkeep, that door would have held. As it was, it wasn't any match in its current state against the sheer rage of the Undertaker. "Can I help you?" He asked, draining his shot glass calmly.

Mark's eyes were scanning the room, not finding any signs of Faith and then finally landed on the open porthole, knowing damn well she wasn't going to squeeze her curvy body through that hole. "Where is she, Shrap?" He demanded, his tone daring the other man to fuck with him.

"She left." Shrapnel said after a long moment, frowning. "She took off after finding out who you really are."

It took every ounce of self-control Mark possessed to not wrap his hands around Shrapnel's throat and squeeze the man to death. Taking a deep breath, he counted backwards from ten. "Where'd she go too?"

"No idea, she just took off."

"If you hurt her-"

Shrapnel actually began laughing; being drunk meant he wasn't so concerned with his impending death, finding it oddly amusing in fact. "Me? Hurt her? Nah, why would I have too? You can do that all on your own, 'Taker."

Ten minutes later Mark walked out of the room, leaving behind an unconscious Shrapnel who now had his bleeding head sticking out the porthole.

Doctor Madison Li was… well, not what Faith had been expecting. But then again, in her current inebriated state, she really wasn't expecting anything besides monsters. Faith hadn't even been actively looking for Dr. Li, knowing most souls onboard had to be asleep at this late -or early, depending on how you looked at it- hour. Faith had been trying to find her way to the common rooms, knowing there was no way in Hell she would be able to face Mark, not tonight, not yet. If ever. Instead, she had found herself at the end of a hall with a sign that read 'Science Lab' and trying to figure out where she had made the wrong turn.

Now that she was halfway to sober, it dawned on her that she could have used her Pip-Boy to find her way to the common rooms as it was constantly graphing wherever she went, always providing her with a current layout of the terrain. She really was losing it.

"Here."

Faith snapped out of it when she realized Dr. Li was refilling the tin cup with more coffee, shifting it in her hands so she was holding onto the handle. "Thank you." She murmured, bending down to inhale the steam, trying not to look around the room.

"You're welcome." Dr. Li seated herself on the small couch that rested against the wall opposite her bed, pouring herself a cup as well. "You really do look so very much like James." She commented softly. "But I can see Catherine in you as well."

"You knew my mother?"

"Yes." Dr. Li nodded, studying Faith thoughtfully. "I knew them both; we all worked together… a very long time ago, before you were born."

"What was she like?" Faith couldn't help but ask. She didn't have many stories of her mother. Her father had told her some things, but… it was a painful topic for him.

"Catherine was… She was intelligent, brave, kind… not so much unlike yourself, from my understanding."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your father, he described you to me… He said you possessed all of Catherine's good traits as well as a few of his own. Though he considered his traits… not so good."

"How do you mean?"

"Curiosity, stubbornness, tenacity."

"How is that not good?"

"Well, of themselves, they aren't bad. But when you combine them… Trouble usually follows."

Faith understood that one only too well, lapsing into silence and sipped her coffee.

After a few moments' silence, Dr. Li stood up. "I understand you're traveling with… a mercenary." She said, obviously trying to be tactful, something most others seemed to be unable to do. "Will he-"

"We're not getting along right now." Faith murmured. "I was actually looking for the common room but I got lost."

"Understandable, this is a large ship. You are more than welcome to stay here tonight; of course, you'll have to take the couch." Dr. Li smiled self-deprecatingly. "I'm an old woman and I prefer the comfort of my bed."

"Oh no, Dr. Li, I can stay in the common room, if-"

"I insist Faith." The older woman said gently but firmly, standing up and gave Faith a look that said she wouldn't accept no for answer. "We're almost family. I delivered you, you know."

"No, I didn't." Faith replied, the shock showing on her face.

Li smiled, patting Faith on the shoulder. "Well, I did, I was there when you were born and when Catherine… well, you know." She managed a tight smile, her mouth compressing into a thin line. "You take the couch."

Faith didn't argue.

"Have you seen a young woman? Black hair, brown eyes… she was-" Mark shook his head when he got told 'no' yet again. It was like the entire ship was purposely trying to piss him off when they all knew better.

"Haven't seen her since yesterday when she was with you, sorry."

That was becoming the standard answer. And the guards hadn't seen her leave, that bridge was the only way on and off the boat unless you were a suicidal fuck and dived off the railing and into the water. Instant death. So, where the hell could she be?

"Project Purity was…" Dr. Li shook her head, smiling almost as if she was trying not to laugh at herself. "It was a dream, a foolish, stupid dream. Right from the beginning we had problems."

Faith had gathered that Dr. Li's time was valuable, reinforced by the fact that Li's assistants had all told her to hit the bricks and let the doctor work, but Li was being nothing but cordial, insisting Faith join her in the science lab. Which was utterly amazing, she had never seen anything like it. They were actually growing real vegetables. Just seeing the juicy tomato was enough to set Faith's mouth to watering, remembering the processed tomatoes they had eaten in the Vault.

"We wanted to clean all the water in the Capital Wasteland, the Potomac River would have… carried fresh, clean water to everyone. But… it was impossible. Not only did we lack the resources, but even with the Brotherhood of Steel-"

That got Faith's complete attention.

"Helping by… watching over the project, it wasn't enough. The Super Mutants were too bad; tension was running high… And then, you were born."

Faith tried not to look shocked or upset that she apparently had been a cause in the end of Project Purity.

Dr. Li correctly interpreted the expression on Faith's face, shaking her head quickly. "No, my dear, don't blame yourself. By the time you were born, it was really the end anyway. James was struggling to hold things together but… Family comes first, as it should. When your mother -Catherine- died, he lost his will… his drive to see Project Purity succeed. We tried to carry on after he had taken you and gone to the Vault, but… it was James who held everything together, who made it seem like an attainable goal…"

"I'm… sorry." Faith murmured, hating how inadequate that seemed, even to her.

"Don't be, like I said, it's not your fault." Dr. Li waved her off briskly, her eyes scanning the room.

"But my father, he came back, right? You did see him."

"Yes, he was here, some time ago. He wanted to restart the project but… I didn't… I…" Li hesitated, fixing Faith with a somewhat desperate look. "I am doing good here, for the people of Rivet City, and eventually, for the world. I can't waste, lose, all the progress I've made here just to chase that dream again."

"But he thinks it will work? My father thinks Project Purity COULD work?" Faith pressed.

"Well, yes, he does. But James is a dreamer, Faith. You must understand… wait, wait, before we have this conversation… James said you were intelligent but… do you know anything of-"

"You won't have to explain things to me, just tell me about the project and I'll understand." Faith assured her. "I'm… not my father, but I'm fairly good when it comes to… science. Just… try me, please?"

Li smiled somewhat. "I do believe I will."

"She went WHERE?"

"To the Jefferson Memorial." To her credit, Dr. Li did not flinch, even though the Undertaker's face was inches from hers and he was looking downright murderous. "She's a grown woman, capable of taking-"

"Lady, don't you DARE tell me what Faith is and is not capable of! I've saved her ass so many goddamn times that I should have partial interest in it!" Mark roared, the only thing stopping him from killing this Asian bitch was the amount of witnesses present. In fact, he was fairly certain someone had already gone to fetch Harkness. Well fuck Harkness, and fuck Madison Li. "You sent her to a Super Mutant infested building that's situated off the mainland and only accessible by a fucking BRIDGE?"

"You can get there by swimming, if you have enough Rad-X and Rad-Away."

"Faith can't FUCKING swim you stupid bitch!" At this point, he had snatched her up by the collar of her dress, not caring that her feet were hanging in the air. "You just sent her to die!"

"No…" Li whispered, shaking her head uncertainly. "She'll be fine, she-"

"Taker, put her down, you're coming with us."

"Fuck if I am, Harkness." Mark snarled, dropping the doctor and whirled around, his eyes brimming with rage. "I'm leaving, I have to-"

"You're going in the hole for a day or two, however long it takes Shrapnel to wake up from that head injury you gave him."

"No-" He didn't get any further before he was dropped from behind; falling heavily to his knees; vision blurring. He seen Rivet City security surrounding him, taking note of the assault rifle aimed at his head and groaned, right before passing out.

Chapter Text

Chapter 18: The Jefferson Memorial

The bridge had been a small mercy. Faith had idly wondered just how she was going to get her ass to this Jefferson Memorial let alone a cross that bridge without getting shot. Luck had been on her side. Just as she was descending the gangplank, her attention was drawn to a caravan. After a quick discussion with the man in charge, a pessimistic bastard who called himself Doc Hoff, she was allowed to tag along with him and his guards as far as the bridge since they were 'going that way themselves'. Hoff's guards had both eyed her suspiciously, so she kept her hands well away from her weapons, not about to get shot, not this close to her goal.

It wasn't a very long trip, but each second felt like an hour, she was so close. Her father was so close.

"Alright kid," Hoff said several hours later, halting at the bridge, studying her intently. "You cross here; that's the Memorial."

Nodding, Faith surveyed the building, marveling at its construction. A small part of her wondered if mankind would ever recover and once more build wonders like this. Highly unlikely.

"Faith," One of the guards, a woman with a crew cut who said her name was 'Joe', was frowning as she stared at the Memorial. "There are Super Mutants up the ass here, you sure you wanna go in there?"

Faith simply nodded.

Joe slapped Faith on the back, shaking her head. "It's your death wish kid, it was nice knowing you."

That was not reassuring.

"You awake yet, 'Taker?"

Sadly, he was. Mark kept his eyes closed however, knowing that as soon as he opened them, a massive headache was going to take hold. "Fuck you, Harkness." He muttered, gingerly reaching around to feel the back of his head.

Yep, he had one hell of a lump. And dried blood on his hair. Nasty.

"Now son, that's a real good way to make sure you never get out of that cell." Harkness chuckled, setting comfortably on a stool with his back against the wall whereas Mark was lying on the cold, hard floor. "You ready to play nice yet?"

"How long have I been out?"

"About a day or so."

Cursing under his breath, Mark pulled himself up into a sitting position. "Harkness, you got to let me out of here, I have to find Faith." Before she got her fool ass killed… or worse. And there were things much worse than death out in the Wasteland.

"What is your deal with that kid?" Harkness asked curiously, ignoring the other man's words completely. "Got big plans for her, don't you?"

"It ain't like that."

"Sure, it's not. That's why she took off from you after Shrapnel told her all about you and the things you're about."

Mark let out a warning growl.

"I will admit, she's one fine looking woman, looks real healthy. Must come from living in a Vault all her damn life."

"Harkness…"

"Were you planning on taking her to Paradise Falls? I bet a beautiful kid like that would fetch one hell of a price."

Mark gripped his head, trying not to get frustrated; being pissed wasn't going to get him out of here any sooner.

"The batch of tests was inconclusive, but Madison and I are convinced it's a problem with the second filtration system. We're going to try to recalibrate the equipment and try again tomorrow so that… James, please, I'm trying to work."

Faith didn't bother wiping away her tears, listening as her father interrupted her mother's audio log. So, this was what her mother's voice had sounded like. She hit rewind, just to hear it again, smiling as Catherine reached the point where she was telling James she was trying to work, more amusement and love in her tone of voice than annoyance.

"Now's not the time! …So that's the next step. Assuming we get the results we need, we'll move on to… James! Stop, I need to finish these notes! …We'll move on to diagnosing the issues with the radiation dampeners, that should… Owww! James! Now? We really shouldn't!"

Still smiling, Faith recorded the tape into her Pip-Boy, just so she could hear it later. It was like having a piece of her mother with her.

She had gone through all the audio logs she had found, except one and just stared down at it, feeling the exhaustion she had forced aside beginning to creep up on her again. She had arrived only two hours ago and yet she was ready to collapse. Of course, fighting off Super Mutants had contributed to that quite a bit. Joe had not been kidding when she had said the place was infested. Working her way through the upper floor and then down into the basement, Faith had systematically cleared the place of the Mutants and their Centaur watch dogs. That had taken forever it seemed, not helped by the fact that one of them had all but body slammed her into a wall, crushing her arm against cold steel.

After making sure she was by herself as well as doing her best to keep the bodies in piles -she wasn't super woman and those mutants were heavy sonbitches, she hadn't done so well on that pile thing- she had locked herself in what had appeared to be her father and mother's room. She had been bitterly disappointed when she discovered her father wasn't here, but then again, with all the Super Mutants around, she wasn't too surprised. But some of the audio logs she had found down in the purifier room told her James had been here recently.

For some reason, fighting alone didn't seem right… and inwardly, Faith knew it was because Mark hadn't been there to protect her back, and it wasn't a comfortable feeling. She hadn't realized until now how much she had come to rely on that rotten mercenary, frowning at the thought.

Groaning softly from pain, she managed to push herself up and stumbled over to one of the bunk beds, dropping down onto it. It took a moment, but she inhaled several times, realizing she could smell a lingering scent of her father, bringing fresh tears to her eyes.

But it was still Mark on her mind. After everything Shrapnel had told her… she had been so drunk and so scared after hearing it. Was that why Mark had been taking such good care of her? Making sure she didn't get banged up too bad? Because he wanted to get a really high price for her at that slaver's camp? Paradise Falls?

So she had finished her business in Rivet City and taken off, going as quickly as she could in order to avoid the merc. It helped a little -but also had brought some odd sort of pain- when Harkness told her they were going to detain Mark, to put him in a holding cell.

Was he still there?

Cursing, Faith shoved it all out of her mind. She needed to rely on herself, when it came right down to it; there was nobody in this world she could trust but herself. Not even her father, as much as she loved him… She didn't trust him, just as he hadn't trusted her.

He had taken off without telling her anything, thinking to keep her safe in ignorance instead of trusting that she could have helped him, helped his cause.

Easing herself onto her left side so she wasn't applying pressure on her injured right arm, Faith closed her eyes. She just needed a little bit of sleep, a few hours, then she would listen to that last audio log and hopefully it would give her some much needed info.

Like where the hell her dad was.

By the time Mark was released, he was fairly certain Faith was either dead or had been taken by Super Mutants. He had heard that they sometimes took captives, though nobody knew why. Not a pleasant thing to speculate on, at all.

He had been told he had exactly an hour to get the hell off the boat before they either locked him back up or fed him to the Mirelurks down in the hull. Mark had quickly taken care of some business with Strayer's kid, Ted -who was a chem addicted moron-, got his shit and booked it.

First stop, Jefferson Memorial.

And if Faith was dead… he was going right back to Rivet City to murder that bitch Madison Li.

Chapter Text

Chapter 19: Destination Vault 112

Gone, she was already gone. Mark had entered Jefferson Memorial with guns at the ready, expecting to find himself in the middle of another war zone. Super Mutants versus Faith, with her on the losing end. Surprisingly enough, Faith seemed to have come out the victor if the bodies of Mutants were anything to go by. So, the Kid had actually cleaned the place out, he was mildly impressed. Given that he had seen her in action, he would have figured she'd of taken down a decent handful but eventually got herself shot. He was pretty glad to be wrong.

Of course, Mark had scoured the Memorial from top to bottom, finally returning to what appeared to be a bedroom. The signs of fresh blood and recent disturbance told him that Faith had spent a bit of time in this room. When he had first passed through, he had given it a cursory look over, now he took his time; noting what looked like it had been disturbed. The bed definitely, seemed like Faith had gotten herself a bit of rest. He noted a half-eaten meal left on the table; stone cold.

With a sigh, he lowered himself down into a chair at the table and kneaded his forehead. He had absolutely no idea where to look next. Where the hell was she going? Who was she looking for? What was she looking for? She had never bothered to fill him in on these details and he had never bothered to ask, figuring it was something he didn't need to know. Just as he had figured she hadn't needed to know about his past, idly wondering just how much of his past she DID know.

She definitely knew about his slave running days. Did she know about the Talon Company? Or that he was currently doing some business even while trying to help her? Groaning, he left his head drop to the table. "Fuck." He should have asked her something, anything, he had never before gone without information; he had always wanted to know just what he was getting himself into and everything that went along. This time he… had slipped, he had underestimated this vault brat and now she was off somewhere in the Wasteland without him.

Hell, this was what he wanted, wasn't it? He had never originally wanted to get involved with Faith, especially after that incident with the research for Moira. Just what kind of fucking imbecile purposefully walked into a place they knew was being used as a base for raiders? The fucking suicidal kind. And he wasn't suicidal.

Mark had just gotten himself a free pass.

Vault 112, that was where Faith was heading. According to her Pip-Boy, it was East and then somewhat North from the Memorial. Knowing damn well she was a fool, she had headed out after a few hours' sleep; knowing she was walking out into the night but… She was just too eager to wait, too anxious, too scared.

She was so close to finding her father, she knew it. She now knew why he had left her and what he was now trying to accomplish. Granted, she didn't agree with him leaving her behind but she understood now. She also understood what he was trying to do, and she wanted to help him in any way she could.

After salvaging what could be salvaged from the Memorial -ammo, food, medical items along with a new set of clothes- she had taken off. As if he were mentally with her, she could practically hear Mark telling her to 'watch your ass, keep them eyes and ears open, don't want to get shot again, hmm?' and proceeded cautiously. She had learned a very harsh lesson in Rivet City. She was the only one who could watch out for herself.

Yao Guai was descended from black bears that much Steve Austin knew. He also knew that they made for good eating, providing you didn't wind up on the dinner menu for them. He had been stalking his prey for an hour now, trying to get close enough to make a clean kill -even wounded these things were still a lot faster than he was- and yet keep downwind. Not an easy feat. It was well into the night and he was glad for the clear skies, at least the billions of stars weren't as hideous to look at as the rest of the scenery.

When the Yao Guai suddenly let out a shrill growl and launched itself at something, Steve inwardly cursed and began running to keep up; knowing he was probably going to lose out on a meal. He skidded to a halt when he seen what had set the Yao Guai off. A woman, no… a young kid, was fending the damn thing off with what looked to be a hunting knife. She was flat on her back; a few feet away from a dying fire; apparently having been sleeping when she was attacked. The soles of her feet were pressed against the creature's abdomen; one arm being used to keep the sharp teeth from her throat and the hand clenching the knife was stabbing wildly.

As he neared, he realized it wasn't wild jabs she was taking but aiming for the throat, hacking the Yao Guai's neck and spraying the nearby ground with its foul, sickly smelling blood. Steve arched an eyebrow when it suddenly collapsed on top of her; hearing her muffled groan of pain. His combat boots made no sound as he continued walking towards her; watching as she struggled to push the dead weight off of herself.

By the time she had managed to get whatever the hell this thing was off of her, Faith was gasping for air. Her arm was paining her again, having been crushed when the monster crashed down on her and she was fairly certain it had scratched her with its long, razor sharp claws. But there wasn't time for that because as soon as she had gotten a quick breath in, she found a knife poised at her throat. Confused, she looked up into the coldest eyes she had ever seen, blue and icy; they sent shivers coursing throughout her. Even though it was night out, there was enough light to see that this man did not look like a friend.

He was a bit smaller than Calaway but was just as muscular; radiated the same amount of danger that the mercenary had. But with Calaway, it had been a sort of wild danger, always a hint of humor in it. This man was just plain out deadly, in a cold and… efficient manner, as stupid as it sounded, that was her immediate thought. Bald, with a mustache/goatee combo surrounding his expressionless mouth and he would have been handsome if not for the way his eyes glinted at her. It all went back to those damn eyes.

Mentally cursing herself for her shock -which had lost her precious seconds- she belatedly brought her fist -still clenching her own knife- up, only for her knife to suddenly be on the ground and her arm being wrenched in a position that was not natural. Suddenly, she was eating dirt; confused beyond belief and that only served to take more time from her before she realized her clothes were being tugged off of her. Once again, she began fighting a bit too late and grunted when a hard hand slapped her between her shoulders blade, coughing violently.

"Hold still."

The voice was just as icy as the eyes.

"Well, here we are again. Project Purity and me. It's been close to twenty years since my last entry, as I left all of this behind to make a life for my daughter. We spent that time in Vault 101, tucked away from the rest of the world. It wasn't perfect, but it was safe, and that's all I could have hoped for. Now, my daughter is a grown woman. Beautiful, intelligent, confident. Just like her mother. And as hard as it was to admit it, she doesn't need her daddy anymore."

She was looking for her father, that much had become clear. Mark felt like he was listening to something he shouldn't but… when he had found the audio logs, he had started playing them, wondering if they contained some hint as to where Faith had gone.

"To be honest, the GECK sounded like pure fantasy, even for someone of Braun's capabilities. It was nothing short of a miracle. A terra-forming module, capable of producing life from complete lifelessness. But not only was this thing a reality, it was actually distributed to several vaults to be used after an atomic war. Vault 101, sadly, was not on that list."

Her father had a very soothing sort of voice, but it was also a voice of reason, of the kind of intelligence Mark did not have any interest in. Book smarts, the kind of smarts that had gotten humanity into the mess it was currently in. This was the kind of smarts Faith had, the kind to raise civilizations… and destroy them. She had apparently gotten it from her parents. He did not need that kind of 'intelligence'.

He also did not to hear anymore bullshit he didn't understand. He had no idea what a 'geck' was, nor who Braun was. He didn't get what the science hack was saying and as much as he hated to admit it, it made him feel… stupid. He skipped to the last audio journal.

"I'm off to Vault 112 to search for anything of Braun's that might help me get this purifier up and running. All I know is that it's West of some place called 'Evergreen Mills', and it's well hidden in some sort of garage. But I'll find it, I have to. It's so close, but that's the story of Project Purity, isn't it? An eternity of "almost there's". Let's see if Braun has the missing puzzle piece."

West of Evergreen Mills, beneath a garage… Mark knew exactly where he was going and stood up, cracking his knuckles one by one. Some of the puzzles that was Faith had just been fitted together. She was searching for her father who had left her in that Vault; her father was searching for some pipedream called Project Purity and looking for shit to make it a reality.

He could work with that.

Chapter Text

Chapter 20: The Waiting Game

Faith was hopeless, utterly, totally confused. She was sitting in front of her now renewed fire, wrapped in what could have been called a blanket, nude. Across from her, the ex-soldier who had introduced himself as Steve Austin, was skimming the beast that had attacked her. The Yao Gaui.

He had explained that Yao Gaui blood had a very pungent aroma -which she had already noticed for herself- and would attract more Yao Gaui, or possibly even Deathclaws. He had taken her clothes and buried them several yards away.

"Won't skinning it attract other beasts?" She asked hesitantly, not looking at him. He scared her, worse than Mark ever had. He had handled her body in a cold manner, like she was a specimen when he had undressed her. He had even gone as far as using his canteen of water to wash the blood off of her body, not bothering to let her do it herself.

And all in a matter of minutes, something she wouldn't have accomplished so fast.

"Yes, which is why I'm doing it quickly." Steve replied, not looking at her. He could all but feel the fear radiating off of her, and he didn't care.

Knowing that was about all she was going to get out of him, Faith looked away; spotting her rucksuck and reached for it. She knew her old amour -the Brahmin skin Calaway had scrounged for her- was at the bottom and began unpacking it.

Steve was more than aware of what the girl was doing and paid no attention, or tried not to at any rate. When he had seen her clothes were drenched in blood, he had reacted immediately and stripped her, not in the mood to deal with anymore Yao Gaui.

While systematically removing her clothes, he had noted that she wasn't the usual specimen for a generic Wasteland female. Even if he was now just… another Wastelander, he prided himself for not taking advantage, though he hadn't bothered to keep his thoughts locked away.

When she turned her back to him and began redressing, he lowered the knife he'd been using to skin the beast in order to watch her. He noted the scar on her side; a distorted circle that looked like it was in the final healing stages and arched an eyebrow. "How did you get that?"

As if she knew what he was talking about, her fingers curled around the spot for a moment. "Tunnel fight with some raiders." She replied finally, her tone clipped.

They lapsed into silence again while she finished dressing and he finished skinning the modern bear, finally beginning to carve off the meat. Yao Gaui was one of the Wasteland's prime meats, providing you weren't killed by one. Not only was the meat delicious, but it also providing a temporary boost to resisting pain and the like.

When Faith had finished dressing, she hunkered in a half crouch and began quickly repacking her sack; intent on getting the hell out of there and continuing on her way. She kept glancing across the fire at Austin, not trusting him in the least. She didn't trust anyone, not anymore.

When the kid took off into the night after securing her rucksack across her shoulders and back along with her two guns, and a few other weapons tucked into various places; Steve was not surprised. His eyes narrowed as he watched her disappear, darkness quickly swallowing her. Ever since he had left Raven Rock, he had been wandering the Capital Wasteland, skirting away from the tiny towns and settlements. While the civilians might not realize who and what he had been, he wasn't taking any chances. He didn't need any reminders anyway…

Like he could ever get away from it.

"Fucking scorpions!" Mark cursed; firing off another round that did absolutely nothing as the giant rad scorpion approached; trying not to look at the pinchers that were bigger than his head; keeping focused on the stinger; which was infinitely more deadly. When he found Faith, he was going to kill her; there was no way around it. He was going to plant a bullet right between her eyes.

He had gone through an emotional war back at the Jefferson Memorial over her. Part of him had rebelled and said 'fuck it', she was on her own. That was the survivalist mentality, along with the mercenary ideals of 'what's in it for me'. And then there was a portion of him he hadn't been aware existed. A part that told him if he didn't go after her, she could die. That there was something bigger than either of them at stake here. Something larger than anything he had ever dared to dream of.

And that was the voice he had listened to.

Which, at the moment, he thought was a pity because he was tired, roasting his ass off in this barren stretch of land and not in the mood to become fodder for this overgrown insect.

After killing the damn thing, he began stomping on it, venting all his anger and frustration. Why hadn't she just stuck around to hear him out?

"Because I'm a goddamn jackass." He answered him in a growl, wiping sweat from his brow, glaring up at the sky.

It had not been easy finding this place, but somehow, she had done it. Of course, her Pip-Boy was a big help. Her odd luck had swerved towards decent and she had run into a scavenger who had pointed her in the direction of Smith Casey's Garage, which hadn't been hard to break into. She'd dealt with the rad-roaches and the mole rats, raided the ammo and med kits and then hunted around for the entrance to Vault 112.

"Oh, come on…" She growled, having just made two very thorough inspections of the place and still hadn't found anything. Groaning, she eased herself onto a sitting position; frowning as metal flexed beneath her. She moved into a kneeling position and took a good look at the floor, arching an eyebrow.

One bright side to all this was that there was no one around to witness her supreme stupidity. She had looked everywhere but directly down. It took a much shorter amount of time to locate the control switch that opened the doors and then she was staring down at a set of stairs, knowing she had reached her destination. She had found Vault 112, and her father.

She had been here. Mark stared down the steps that led underground, wondering if he really wanted to go down there. Chances were, she had already come and gone, with her father. But… what if she hadn't…? Cursing the day he had ever met Faith; he started down the steps.

He wound up going down two flights of steps and taking a turn before spotting the huge vault doorway, arching an eyebrow at the sheer size of it. What the hell did they have in there? It was open though, someone had definitely passed through.

Assault rifle at the ready, he stepped inside; keeping an eye open for anything that didn't seem right. Technically, all Vaults were supposed to be sealed and filled with the ancestors of the original people who had gone into them. But nothing in this life ever seemed to go as it was supposed too so he wasn't banking on anything. He damn near blew the head off a robot when he stepped around a corner and came face to face with it, a Robobrain.

"You are two hundred and two point three years late." It said in what was supposed to be a soothing, feminine voice.

"I'm looking for a-"

"Please sir, go to your appointed pod and pre-"

Mark wasn't listening anymore, pushing past the damn thing and followed the path; coming to a window and peered through it. He wasn't entirely sure what he was seeing but it creeped him out just a bit. Anything remotely to do with science and technology, he didn't trust. Just look where technology had gotten them after all.

He finally reached the lower floor that he had seen through the windows, staring at what looked like a very thick tree trunk, but it wasn't, it was… a computer, or something. A circular computer, with pods surrounding it, each pod was big enough to fit a person.

Frowning, he began circling the pods, peering inside each one of them. Inside were people, sleeping it almost looked like though he couldn't see their chests rising or falling. People of all ages, and as he progressed, he also seen children. According to the monitors, these people were all… over two hundred years old.

How in the fuck were they still alive? More technology, science bullshit that he wouldn't understand. Forcing his gaze off the living mummies, he continued on the loop, finally halting when he seen a man, one who was somewhat older than him resting comfortably in one of the pods.

This had to be Faith's father, James. He could see the resemblance, their hair for one. Thick and black, though James had liberal streaks of grey and white sweeping at his temples. His face was lined, but it didn't detract from his looks, just made him look…

Anyways. James must have been here awhile. Mark peered at his monitor, a month according to the little green numbers.

Shaking his head, he continued his inspection of the rest of the pods, finally halting. He had found Faith. He was tempted to just rip the damn thing apart and haul her unconscious ass out of there but he had no clue what that would do to her. She was in the pod, which was hooked up to this mega computer… No, he couldn't just rip her out; it'd be his luck her brain would fry or something.

Sighing, he rested his head against the cool metal. Now he played the waiting game…

Chapter Text

Chapter 21: Meet Betty

This must have been what the world was like before the Great War, Faith mused as she looked around. According to her old teacher, this was what was called a neighborhood. And the houses in the cul-de-sac were all… intact. She seen people walking around, wearing beautiful if not old-fashioned clothing, all of it crisp and clean.

Trees, there were actual trees. And flowers. She crouched down to study one, hesitantly reaching out to feel it. She knew this wasn't real; it was a virtual reality simulation, but… She hesitated when she seen her hand, her brow creasing in a frown and flexed her fingers. Her hand looked so much smaller than it should have been. Straightening back up, Faith looked down and finally realized that she wasn't wearing her Brahmin skin suit of armor.

She was wearing a pink and white, checked dress with white stockings and… black, shiny shoes of an impractical nature. Her hands skimmed up her body, noting the distinct lack of curves and then finally to her face and over her head. Her hair was hanging down to her mid back, longer than it actually was. She felt a bow… She was a child.

Before she could do much else, a dog came running up to her; nuzzling her hand with a familiarity that was disturbing. Her experiences with dogs weren't much, but she knew most of them would attack on sight just for a meal.

"Hey c'mon now…" She tried to push it away, frowning when the dog whined even more incessantly. "Please, go away doggie…"

Ugh, she even sounded like she had at ten.

Ignoring the dog, Faith began wandering around, searching for someone who could help her. Theoretically, if all these people were the sleepers from the pods, then they should know where to point her. To wherever Braun was, because where Braun was, she'd find her dad.

"Hey, hey you!"

She turned in a slow circle until she was staring across the street into a park, an actual park, without mines littering the ground waiting to take out unwary people treading nearby. With actual grass, and toys… She smiled wistfully.

"C'mere!"

Another little girl -and she hated thinking of herself as a little girl - was waving at her from across the way. Sighing, she quickly hurried towards the girl, ignoring the dog's louder whines.

"Go away, shoo!" The other girl scowled, aiming a pointed toe at the dog, catching it in the ribs.

Yelping, he scampered away, but not too far, keeping a wary eye on the humans.

"I'm Betty." The girl said with a sweet smile; her eyes speculating.

Something about this kid set Faith's teeth on edge; a twisting sensation occurring in the pit of her stomach as the girl's eyes flashed malevolently. "Faith."

"You're not from here." Betty said matter-of-factly.

"Passing through."

"Ah… you must be searching for the G.E.C.K."

"Yes, I am. Do you know where I can find Dr. Braun?" Faith asked eagerly, ignoring the disturbed feeling that was nagging for her attention.

"Maybe." Betty said, her tiny mouth twisting in a smirk that didn't look natural on her face. "But I'm so bored! Maybe we can play a game, you and me. And if you keep me entertained long enough… I might even tell you where you can find him."

She did not like the sound of that, at all and hesitated.

"Oh well…" Betty made a great show of dismissing her. "I'll just go play with James then… he's such a good boy…"

"Wait-" Faith grabbed hold of Betty's arm, pulling her back harshly. "You know my father?"

"Course. He came through about a month ago." Betty replied, wrenching her arm free with a scowl. "He wasn't very much fun though."

Now she knew there was definitely something wrong with this little girl, just the way her entire face darkened. "Can you tell me where he is now? Did he find the G.E.C.K.?"

Betty seemed to be contemplating, staring beyond Faith musingly. "Sure, I'll… throw you a bone. But you're going to play a little game with me first. I've been so bored here… all these years living with these people…" She made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. "You have no idea how boring two hundred years with the same people can be, even if you can change the scenery."

It took a moment for that to sink in but when it did, Faith reeled backwards. "Dr. Braun?"

"Betty" giggled maliciously.

Faith literally fell onto her ass, her mouth wide open.

"Play a game with me. We'll take turns." The 'little girl' wheedled. "You do a task and then I'll answer a question, that's fair, isn't it?"

All Faith could do was manage a weak nod.

"Goodie!"

Faith's heart was racing and there wasn't anything Mark could do but stare at the damn monitor and watch. He had figured out the basics, the vitals, but other than that… He was still playing the waiting game.

After a few moments of silence -other than the Robobrains that made their rounds, checking on the inhabitants of the pods- Mark became aware that he wasn't the only conscious human in the Vault. He whirled around, drawing the sawed off shotgun he had kept from the Farragut Tunnels.

He was aiming directly at a bald man's forehead, inches away. The bald man also had a Chinese assault rifle, and it was aimed at Mark's chest. They were at a standstill. "Who the fuck are you?" He spat, not pleased that someone had gotten so far in without him noticing until the last moment. Maybe he really was getting old because he knew in the past he would have never been anything but alert, nothing would have made it past him.

That or it was Faith, distracting him… Damn woman.

The bald man didn't answer, his eyes darting to the pod behind Mark and took in Faith, arching an eyebrow. "What's she doing in there?" He demanded in a monotone voice; eyes moving back onto Mark.

"Sleeping." Mark fingered the trigger, wondering what the robots would do if he shot someone in here, tempted to test it out.

"I followed her."

To his surprise, the other man slid his gun into a rigged carrier, folding his arms over his chest. Mark wasn't as quick to withdraw his own weapon, slowly lowering it. "Why?"

"Because I ran into her the other night, she killed a Yao Gaui with just a knife."

Mark could detect just a smidge of admiration in the other man's tone, his frown deepening. "And?"

"And I burnt her clothes, shared a fire with her for an hour or so and she took off."

He really did not like this guy.

"Steve Austin."

Mark eyed the hand that was being held out to him disdainfully, not taking it. "'Taker." He finally drawled, purposefully dragging out his moniker.

A hint of recognition flashed in Steve's eyes, but he didn't comment, instead skirting around 'Taker and approached the pod. "Stasis… very impressive." He murmured, ignoring the other man as he turned to an adjacent monitor.

He would be lying if he didn't admit -and only to himself- that he felt like a bit of a jackass when Austin pulled a sliding keyboard from beneath the monitor; eyes narrowing slightly. "What're you doing?" He brought the gun up again, not about to let this stranger do anything to jeopardize Faith while she was in that thing.

Steve ignored the gun. "I'm checking her vitals, her condition… and… I think, I can pull up just what's going on in there, if you'll give me a moment."

"What do you mean, pull it up?"

Yet again, Steve was ignoring him, his mind going a million miles a minute. He had of course known about stasis chambers, but nobody at Raven Rock had been totally sure if any had survived the fallout of the Great Wars and they hadn't gotten around to building their own yet, there had been too many other pressing matters to attend too.

But he was familiar with the principal, and he was also familiar with the Overseer of this fault, at least familiar historically. Nobody had ever actually figured on locating Vault 112, there had been no need.

Until now apparently.

"All these people are in stasis chambers; time essentially stops inside of them. The bodies are suspended, the aging process halts, the only thing that doesn't stop is their consciousness but that has been channeled with Braun's virtual simulation."

"So if we were to just open up these pods?" Mark asked curiously, somewhat surprised that he had actually followed all that.

Steve shook his head, shooting 'Taker a look that clearly indicated he thought the man was a complete and utter moron. "They'd die. The shock alone would be enough to do them in but… If you were to just 'open up a pod', you'd probably fry a brain or two. This is delicate machinery and their brains are all running off of it. You're not that bright, are you?"

It was a bit amusing. With Faith, he had been so silent; so stoic… but that was because he had been sizing her up and even now he didn't quite have a measure of her. But this 'Taker guy, the Undertaker -yeah he knew who the cretin was, who didn't?-, well… He already had the man pegged and felt no need to restrain himself.

That and he had his own, private thoughts, concerning 'Taker, that he wasn't going to address because it made him uncomfortable, it made him think about the past. His past.

"And… a failsafe… interesting." He stroked his goatee thoughtfully, knowing damn well he wasn't activating the failsafe. It would kill everyone in a pod, except maybe Braun.

"You said you could pull up what's going on in there?" Mark interrupted Austin's musings, still gripping his sawed off shotgun.

"I can try… "

"Well then try."

Chapter Text

Chapter 22: Mercy Murder

Faith was trying not to throw up. She was behind little Timmy Neusbaum's house, sprawled face down in the crisp grass beneath a tall tree. She could feel the wind cooling her skin but took no relief in it. It wasn't even real wind. By the same reasoning, she supposed she shouldn't have felt bad about what she had just done… But she did.

Dr. Braun, or 'Betty', as he was currently masquerading as, was playing a game alright. One that she would lose no matter what. He had told her that she had to be 'creative' when doing the tasks he'd given her, that if she did the tasks in a straightforward and 'boring' manner, it wouldn't count and he wouldn't answer any questions. He had also laid down the ground rule that if she tried to attack him, he would kill her; viciously explaining that he alone controlled this reality and he could kill her ever so easily simply by shutting down her mind. And her father's. So, her father was trapped here somewhere.

He was so close, he could be anyone, or anything… but that wasn't giving her any comfort. If anything, that was making things worse. Braun had intimated that James hadn't agreed to play his 'game’ and had been punished for it. She was nothing but a little girl in a checked dress, with a dirty tear-stained face crying in someone's back yard. And none of it was real.

From Braun she had learned that if the Tranquility Loungers were tampered with, the people inside them would lose their 'life support' and die instantly. Not a pleasant thought considering these people were all theoretically dead outside of their stasis state. Save for herself and her father, they would survive, though they'd definitely have lingering mental scars from this entire experience.

Braun had obviously lost his mind somewhere along the way, if he hadn't been downright insane to begin with. He had made that unpleasantly clear from the get-go, telling her how he had made several scenarios after wiping his fellow 'roommates' memories in order to start over. Each scenario all ended with him killing them off in one way or another.

His first task had been 'relatively simple'; all she had to do was make poor Timmy cry, without violence. And she had. She had told that poor kid that his parents were shipping him off to a military school because they didn't love him anymore, and she had showed him a brochure just to back it up. She had felt like shit for that. And for being amused, Braun had answered a question. Then set her another task. She had to break up a happy couple. Which she had done, pushing aside her guilt and regret. Another question answered, another task.

It was that final task -which she had completed- that had made her finally break down and cry. She had killed a woman, all so a psychopath could have a few hours amusement. Afterwards, she had trudged back to Braun/Betty and asked her question, ignoring his glee over how 'marvelously inventive' she had been in poor Mrs. Henderson's demise.

She had blown that poor woman to hell and back. It had been so damn simple too. She had found out from Mr. Simpson that Mrs. Henderson liked to bake… It hadn't been hard at all, sneaking into the Henderson's house while they were out doing whatever it was these people did. She had tampered with the oven's pilot light and left; using her sweet, innocent child's face and voice to speak with Mrs. Henderson when she had returned, mentioning how she adored apple pie.

One house explosion later…

Now Braun wanted her to be his own personal 'Pint Sized Slasher', an urban myth from back in the pre-war days of a tiny killer who had no M.O. and was known by a clown mask and butcher knife, apart from the size. He wanted her to kill everyone in the neighborhood, wearing a mask and wielding a knife that he had brought into the reality, hidden in an empty doghouse beside an abandoned house. Technically, she knew that they would survive it; Braun would wipe their memories and then bring them back in another simulation. In another scene that would only wind up with them being murdered again.

But that didn't change the intent.

"Shoo dog, go away…" She muttered hoarsely when she felt the stray's wet nose nuzzling against her arm, batting out her hand blindly. When a growl reached her ears, she sat up; brushing tears from her face and glared at the mutt. "I said go away!"

The dog just sat there and stared at her, tilting its head to the side and letting out a low, urgent whine.

Faith glared right back, making eye contact. To her surprise, he didn't look away like she had expected and that was just as unsettling as everything else she had encountered here. "Mutt, I'm not in the mood, you go on now, git!" She could have sworn the dog rolled its eyes at her, huffing.

And then it clicked. Betty/Braun's words came back to her 'Sure, I'll throw you a… bone.' and it all made sense. He had said James was still around here, but she hadn't seen him. But then again, maybe she was looking for the wrong… thing. "Dad?" She asked hesitantly.

The dog barked excitedly, dancing around her.

"Oh my God!"

Old Lady Dithers knew for a fact that this wasn't right. She knew none of them -and by them, she meant her 'neighbors'- belonged here anymore than they had in the last world they had been in. While the rest of them succumbed to the mind wipes, she, for some reason unknown to her, was never affected by them. She had no concept of time anymore, but she did know that she felt… old, weary. Her mind was exhausted.

There was a little girl on the playground, a little girl who was not a child. She was evil, playing cruel pranks on the unsuspecting folk. And now 'Betty' had new playthings. Some time ago a man had appeared out of nowhere. He had spoken to 'Betty', gotten into a heated debate and the next thing she knew… They had a stray dog roaming the cul-de-sac.

And now there was another little girl, one she didn't recognize at all. She had seen this little girl speaking to 'Betty' multiples times, always with a sad; resigned air about her. This last time, Betty' had been insanely happy, and the other little girl had taken off running; tears streaking her tiny face. Tabitha -the fools in the neighborhood called her Old Lady when it was simply Tabitha Dithers- had followed that child; going as fast as she could, which wasn't very fast at all as she was an old woman. She knew when she had first entered that cursed Vault, she hadn't been this old; but then again… Maybe this was a reflection of her true self, so many years later.

She found the child behind the Neusbaum's house alongside that stray dog, who she secretly suspected was really the man who had come through not so long ago. The girl had her arms thrown about the dog's neck and she was certain she seen the fur beneath the hound's eyes streaked with tears. "Child, you need to get out of here." She said urgently, knowing that if 'Betty' caught them talking, something bad would happen.

Faith raised her face from where it had been buried in her… father's… fur, staring suspiciously at the old woman. "Who are you?" She demanded, wincing at how high pitched and childish her voice sounded; she would never get used to that.

"You can call me Tabby, child, listen… this isn't real," Tabitha knew her time was short. "This place, it's all wrong, we're not supposed to be here, this is-"

"A virtual reality world."

"Yes!" Tabitha almost fell over, feeling something akin to hope fluttering through her and swallowed hard, glancing over her shoulder. "Listen, listen child, that abandoned house, hidden back off the street down that way," She pointed, making sure the girl was paying strict attention. "She don't like us going anywhere near there."

Faith knew 'she' was Betty and nodded, wiping tears off her cheeks.

"There's a failsafe in there, every world Braun's stuck us in has one. But every time I get close, someone comes by and hauls me off, thinking I'm a nutty old bat. But you, he won't stop you child, you could get in there and end this!"

She frowned, staring at Tabby thoughtfully. "Wouldn't that kill you?" She asked finally, her tone subdued. "I mean, really kill you."

Tabitha nodded eagerly.

Faith had blood on her hands already; her conscious was in turmoil over blowing up Mrs. Henderson and her house, even if she would be respawned whenever Braun started a new simulation. Just going through the act… she felt her stomach do its familiar twist and groaned. What Tabby was now suggesting involved the mass murder of everyone in the simulation, really murdering them…

Sensing the girl's distress, Tabitha managed to kneel down until she was resting on the grass; glancing at the dog who had been… watching them, that was an insane thought but she knew better than anyone else that anything was possible in this virtual world. Carefully, she wrapped her arms around the child's shoulders; smiling when the girl allowed herself to be held. "What's your name?"

"Faith." She whispered sadly.

"Faith…" Tabitha echoed, closing her eyes, a tear sliding down her wizened cheek. "Such a beautiful name…" And it was, one thing other than her mind that she had kept in all these years was her faith, and now it seemed God had finally answered her prayers. "Child, don't look at it as murder so much as a mercy. We've been here so long…"

'Over two hundred years." Faith thought, knowing better than to voice that aloud.

"And every time, it ends the same. He kills us all, makes us start over. It's nothing but a game that he plays and I'm the only one who knows it." Tabitha sounded exhausted again, pulling away to stare into Faith's eyes, smiling slightly. They were brown, a muddy brown; too large for her gaunt face but Tabitha had a feeling Faith wasn't a child. There was too much pain in those brown eyes, too much worldliness. "Please, end our, end my, suffering."

Both Mark and Steve jumped backwards when two of the Tranquility Loungers opened of their own accord, watching as a man all but leapt from his after shaking off the effects of having been in the simulation before rushing over to the other pod.

"Faith, Faith honey, can you hear me?"

Mark arched an eyebrow, watching as the man gently pulled Faith out of her chair and into his arms; cradling her against his chest as he checked her pulse.

So, this was James.

Chapter Text

23: The Keys

James ignored the men behind him, focusing only on his daughter. Gently, he eased her out of the tranquility lounger pod, relieved when her eyes blearily opened once she was disconnected properly; somehow managing to hold herself up on her own two feet though she did lean heavily on him for support. “Faith, do you know how I am?”

“Sure as Hell not a dog…” she mumbled, raising a trembling hand up to her forehead; squeezing her eyes shut even further in a futile attempt to block out the light as well as keep herself from crying. She knew who he was, she knew who she was, she knew what she had done, even if it hadn’t counted. The flatline sounds echoing around her told her plenty.

Smiling, James wrapped his arms around Faith and just held her. When he had seen her in the simulation, he had about had a heart attack, wondering just what the Hell she was doing there. He had left her in Vault 101 for a reason; he hadn’t expected to ever see her again. If he knew the reason he was seeing her again, he would have wept. As much as it had hurt him to think that he would never see his beautiful daughter again, James had known that she no longer needed her daddy, she’d be fine in the Vault, live the rest of her life in safety. Of course, he hadn’t accounted on her being stubborn and taking off after him, she was definitely her mother’s daughter.

Then James felt a streak of guilt fly through him. Apparently, Faith hadn’t taken kindly to being left behind. It was more than obvious what she had done, she had hunted him down. How she had managed to track him all the way out here was beyond him. How she had known to climb into the pod… he had severely underestimated her. When he was sure she’d be able to stand on her own, he slowly let go of her; finally becoming aware of the physical changes time had wrought in his daughter. Gone was the gangly teenager on the cusp of adulthood. Before him stood a woman and he wasn’t sure how to handle that.

To buy himself some time, he finally took in the two men standing off to the side. One was just watching them out of cool, veiled blue eyes while the other was staring at Fatih like he couldn’t believe he was seeing her. Something in those hazel green orbs made James want to wrap his arms protectively around Faith or maybe just hide her away.

Faith was staring at the men too, questions written all over her face as she finally focused on Steve. “What are you doing here?”

“I followed you,” he said, his tone just as emotionless as his gaze.

Snorting, she glanced back at her father, completing ignoring Mark. “Did you get it?”

James felt his spirit crumple as he shook his head, a reflection of what he was feeling cast back at him on her face. “No, Braun wouldn’t even talk about it.”

“Braun is insane.” She managed to make her words sound casual though she couldn’t keep the waver from her tone. “But…”

Now it was James shaking his head, seeing the anguish cresting in her eyes and felt his heart break for her. “Faith, it was a mercy, what you did in there,” he soothed, not entirely sure if she would believe him, allow him to hold her. “Those people have been living in Hell for two centuries, you did the right thing.”

Faith simply nodded. She didn’t feel like she had done the right thing. Not at all.

“Are you going to keep ignoring me?” Mark demanded later that night, watching as Faith repacked her satchel to fit the medical supplies she had scavenged from the vault. Somewhere between then and now the bald guy had disappeared, they had made it outside and been walking. Mark wasn’t exactly sure when the man had slipped off, his mind had been elsewhere.

Faith and her father had walked away from them, lost in their own brief conversation before heading off in the general direction of Rivet City, a place he was no longer allowed to set foot in, with or without supervision. Mark had followed from a distance, taking in the similarities between Faith and James. Not just the physical ones but things such as the way they walked, both took long, purposeful steps, even when they seemed to both be suffering some inner pain. When they spoke, they were both articulate and gestured quite a bit. They shared a similarity in how they grew passionate when speaking, their voices rising and falling in similar cadences.

It was unnerving to hear the ‘dumb Kid’ rambling on about that Purifier of Jame’s and the G.E.C.K. and a million other things he didn’t understand nor would he ever. He had also noticed how James kept glancing at her, as if he wished to speak to her only to wind up looking away, obviously unsure of what to say outside of ‘business’.

Honestly, what could the guy say? He had left his kid in a Vault, figuring she wouldn’t come trailing off into the unknown after him and had been dead wrong. His miscalculation had cost him more than he would probably ever know. Not to mention James probably was aware that it hadn’t been easy for her to find him.

Mark had no sympathy whatsoever. As for Faith, he had noticed the change in her almost immediately, it was impossible not too given how much time he had spent with her. Before their rather bad parting in Rivet City. Which made him inwardly flinch, remembering how he had gotten somewhat violent with her in their room.

Even though it had been about a week since she had left his ass behind, such a change had occurred in her that she seemed to have aged. Mentally of course, but it showed in the way she carried herself. How her eyes seemed to draw everything in but showed nothing, the way she reflected before speaking.

James was making himself a bed on the other side of the fire, currently pretending not to be constantly glancing over at them or listening in on their one-sided conversation.

Faith sucked in her lower lip, still not looking at him.

Mark was growing just a bit impatient with her. He had not chased her little ass down just to be treated as if he didn’t exist. “Faith, whatever Shrapnel might have-“

“You were a slaver.”

“Yes, but-“

“And with the Talon Company.”

“But-“

Faith held up a finger, silencing him. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about all that, Mark.”

He noticed she was back to calling him Mark now, opposed to Calaway. “And?”

“And if there is anything else I should know, you need to tell me right now before anyone else does.”

He considered that, reaching into his vest pocket for his cigarettes and flask, offering both to her.

James shot upright from his bedroll when he seen Faith not only take a sip from the flask -and he was fairly certain it wasn’t water- but also accept and light a cigarette. “Faith!”

“What?”

“Those things will kill you!”

“So will radiation, Super Mutants, and Blamco Mac ‘n Cheese,” she pointed out dryly.

James managed a slight smile, slowly laying back down. His glittering eyes reflected at them in the firelight, letting them know he wasn’t even close to asleep. He was blatantly listening in.

Faith turned back to Mark expectantly, taking a long draw off the cigarette. “Well?”

Grimacing, he helped himself to another heavy swallow from the flask. “You know I was a slaver.”

She nodded.

“And a merc.”

Another nod.

“I also do some freelance stuff every now and then. I’m actually doing a job, sort of, while we’re doing whatever it is we’re doing. I have a client down in Underworld.”

“Underworld?”

“It’s an all Ghoul city,” he wasn’t surprised she hadn’t heard of it. “They’ll let fleshies, or smooth skins like us, stay for a night or two but nobody with all their skin still on stays longer. Anyways, a ghoul by the name of Crowley hired me to procure him some keys, three of them actually. Each from a different mark. There was an optional to the contract but…” he already knew she wouldn’t approve of it.

“But…”

Knowing he was about to offend her precious morals, Mark heaved a deep sigh. “At first the contract was for a hundred caps per head kill, at the time there were four marks.” He ignored her raised eyebrows. “But given what I know of the marks, I asked around and did my homework, Crowley was really after the fuckin’ keys. So now he’s paying a hundred caps a key and a hundred a head if I do decide to blow them off.”

“And have you blown off any heads?” She demanded, fixing him with a dark look.

“Just one, while I was with you anyway,” his tone was just as dark as her stare.

It didn’t take long to figure that out. “Dukov.” Faith said after a moment, not really surprised by her lack of emotion regarding that. Considering that Dukov had been making unwanted advances on her, gotten a little violent, sucked to be him. “So, how much do you have now?”

“Once I get back to him, five hundred caps.”

“That’s a lot of partying.”

Mark half-smiled. “No, I’m saving.”

“For? I was under the impression you just took what you wanted.”

His smile disappeared.

Faith got the distinct impression she had either offended him or hurt his feelings. Maybe even both. She was also a bit shocked to find she actually cared.