After the Vault: Chapter 08
    
    Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership of Fallout or anything that 
comprises it. This is a non-profit story written solely for my own 
enjoyment and that of anyone who wishes to read it. The story and all 
original characters are mine. Please don't use them without permission.
    
***
    
    After the Vault
    
    -A Fallout Fan-Fiction by Nutzoide-
    
    
    Chapter 08
    
    Equal and Opposite
    
    
    Consciousness was an unwelcome intruder into Abigail's world the 
morning after. She was overly warm, but sleep had been deep and 
comforting for her. Right then she didn't want to think too much about 
the day before. And though she wanted to she couldn't think clearly 
about the night either.
    
    As surreal as it had seemed, that had not been a dream. Chopper's 
body was still along side her own, sprawled uncaringly on her back as 
she continued to sleep. Her right hand still rested on Abigail's thigh, 
while Abigail's legs crossed over Chopper's own. Abigail moved them. It 
wasn't... Wasn't what? 
    
    It wasn't appropriate, she finally explained to herself.
    
    She quickly became aware of how guarded she had become so early in 
the morning, but strangely she didn't feel embarrassed. If anything, the 
naked proof of their night together reassured her. She didn't want it 
to, but the reassurance was welcoming. She had lost her virginity at 
last, and at a time when it had actually mattered to her. 
    
    And Chopper had pretended very well. She had lavished her not only 
with physical attention, but emotional as well. Chopper had whispered 
how she had desired her from the beginning, and how Abigail had tied her 
in knots for so many different reasons. She had made Abigail feel 
beautiful, and desired. Chopper had touched her both with knowing care 
and with untamed desire, and Abigail had been guided across every inch 
of Chopper as well, the older woman sharing her personal secrets while 
she discovered Abigail's own.
    
    So as unwelcome as the morning was, that was as least a good memory 
to wake to. Chopper was a hard person, but she had softened for 
Abigail's sake.
    
    No, that wasn't right. Chopper was not selfless. It had pleased her 
to soften her attitude and work her gentle seductions, Abigail was sure. 
It made Abigail wonder whether Chopper would put the night behind her 
without a second thought, or whether she would continue to play at her 
role, expecting Abigail to be enamoured enough to play as well. 
    
    Abigail already knew the answer, but more pressing than that was the 
other pair of bodies inside the tent. Beneath their own thin blanket 
Kyle slept contented on his side, while Sharn sat cross legged, watching 
Abigail's face. When Abigail realised that, she thought she must have 
looked very slow and stupid, just lying there and pretending to feel 
respectable, staring at the ceiling. 
    
    Honestly, Abigail didn't know what to say to her. Chopper's resting 
hand was still on her left thigh, and though she was being watched, 
Abigail just didn't want to remove it. Not yet. It was reminding her of 
what she had done, and she was afraid that if she removed it she would 
soon begin to wonder if she had dreamt it after all.
    
    Sharn broke the pregnant silence for her. She sounded as uncertain 
and conflicted as she looked. "Why *her*, Abby?"
    
    It was a simple question. Understandable, since neither of them 
liked Chopper all that much. But it shattered Abigail's confidence, and 
guilt filled the gaps that were left behind.
    
    "You wouldn't have," Abigail whispered, looking away. "Who would you 
have liked it to be?"
    
    Sharn didn't know, and said as much. "But I don't get it. I just 
don't."
    
    Abigail felt the need to justify herself, and to explain how 
different Chopper had been that night, but it would have been a lie. 
Chopper hadn't been different at all. She had just been a wonderful 
lover. Not that Abigail had anyone else to judge her against, but she 
had at last been *with* Abigail, instead of against her.
    
    She didn't get a chance to articulate that though. Their whispering 
had been enough to wake both Chopper and Kyle from their sleep. Or maybe 
they had already been awake a while, and leaving their partners to 
think. 
    
    "You don't have to 'get it'," Chopper said. She rolled onto her side 
and propped herself up on her elbow. She finally moved her hand from 
Abigail's body, and Abigail felt even guiltier for wishing she hadn't. 
Was that kind of thinking betraying Sharn's expectations of her? It 
wasn't even any of her business, but Sharn's opinions mattered to her. 
And that wasn't a good thing to be thinking while lying naked in 
Chopper's bed.
    
    "Believe it or not," Chopper finished, "you're not involved."
    
    She then looked down to Abigail's flushing face, and took her chin 
in her fingers. "Good morning, Abby."
    
    So saying she leant down a placed a far too simple kiss on Abigail's 
lips. 
    
    Abigail let her. She had already made up her mind. Chopper might be 
a terrible person at times, but she was deeper than that. If Chopper 
would treat her like a human being, and was capable of loving her as 
one, then Abigail would not turn away. She had felt so small and weak 
and lost after the battle, once the chalky and aromatic drug she had 
taken had been purged from her body. She had longed for someone to hold, 
be it as a parent, child, or lover, just to let her cry out that 
weakness.
    
    Chopper had done more than that. Just like Erin had said, Chopper 
had made her feel like the most special person in the world. With that 
inside her, Abigail's courage and determination had been restored. She 
was not weak. She was as good as anyone else, and what was more, there 
was no reason to prove it. That was where she had gone wrong before. She 
had been out to prove herself against a benchmark that was simply 
unsuited to her.
    
    So who cared what the benchmark was, or how high it was perched? In 
Chopper's arms it had not mattered at all. And even if Chopper would 
soon tire of her, just having her there for a while was all that Abigail 
would need. A last little support, while she shored up her confidence.
    
    "Chopper?" she said. "We're all friends here."
    
    Chopper looked at her, before giving Sharn an amused glance. "Really 
now?"
    
    "Yes, really," Abigail repeated. "And does that kiss mean that we're 
still pretending?"
    
    "You still have to pretend? I'm hurt." Chopper said it with that 
smirk of hers plastered across her face.
    
    "Only a little, I hope." Abigail looped her arms around Chopper's 
back affectionately. She didn't want Chopper to harden again just yet.
    
    On the other side of the tent Kyle did the same thing to Sharn, 
holding her from behind.
    
    "Hey, Sia. It's all good, right?"
    
    A pause, that made Abigail hold her breath without knowing it.
    
    "Yeah. All good, I guess." She stared at Chopper, holding Kyle's 
hand over her chest. "Just don't be fucking about, okay."
    
    Chopper replied only with a smile and a wink. 
    
    Abigail knew the score. She probably knew it better than Chopper 
did, given the confidence the older woman seemed filled with. If Abigail 
had asked her, she suspected that Chopper would have said nothing about 
letting her go, or growing bored of her. That didn't seem to be her way. 
Her confidence in their sexual attraction was what made her seductive 
side so powerful. But that was more than okay for now. Abigail would 
undoubtedly need more harsh guidance as well, and her morals were far 
tighter than Chopper's. Maybe too tight?
    
    So neither of them was perfect, but what was wrong with that?
    
***
    
    The morning lacked any sense of urgency, for which everyone was 
grateful to some degree. They could all bask in the warm morning sun, 
clutching the last of the powdered coffee that Lilis had allowed to make 
themselves human again, now that the bloodshed, adrenaline and looting 
was a full day behind them. Most were happy to go without breakfast for 
once and either didn't bother to hunt up some lizards or conserved their 
rations for the trip home. 
    
    Abigail wasn't one of them though. She hadn't eaten that night, so 
even the bland root paste that Chopper offered her was better than 
nothing. Rathley wasn't about to go without his morning intake of 
reptile meat either, and despite his injuries took fifteen minutes out 
to find himself a nice, fat iguana. Maybe he was gripped by a sudden 
pang of camaraderie for a fellow injured soul, because he gave his 
leftovers to Kirren.
    
    She was in much worse shape though. She accepted the food 
graciously, but her thanks were not reflected on her face. She just 
picked at the carcass with her teeth, chewing each strip of meat without 
any sense of enjoyment. Abigail was gripped by the terrible desire to 
ask if she was alright. But of course she wasn't. Her left arm was 
missing, replaced by a heavily bandaged stump.
    
    In fact, as soon as Chopper had emerged from their tent she had made 
the young woman her first priority, and unloaded another syringe of 
painkillers into Kirren's shoulder. It had allowed the woman to stop 
cringing from the pain, but evidently that pain was all that had been 
keeping her depression at bay. 
    
    "Umm, Sharn?"
    
    Sharn looked at Abigail a moment. She was still obviously affected 
by what Abigail and Chopper had done, but she did at least reply. "Yes?"
    
    Abigail was grateful. "Is she going to be okay?"
    
    Sharn looked toward Kirren, slumped against her rock and paying them 
no attention at all. "Well, I think she'll get over it, if that's what 
you're asking."
    
    She also knew that wasn't what Abigail had been getting at, and told 
her so. "But she'll have trouble with her rifle. No-one tries to aim one 
with one hand. Maybe she'll find a way to work around that, but I think 
she'll be looking for a new line of work." 
    
    It made sense, but it was also very depressing. Kirren was very 
knowledgeable about how to go about Merc jobs, and dealing with raiders 
in particular. "Maybe she can do what Lilis does? Negotiate, or maybe 
teach people about dealing with raiders?"
    
    Sharn didn't look convinced, but she nodded all the same. "Yeah, 
maybe so."
    
    And that was the end of the conversation. It hurt Abigail that they 
couldn't just chat, and that Sharn couldn't offer her past comforts, but 
then maybe Abigail had gone beyond that now. Even apart from Abigail's 
sexuality, Sharn didn't approve of her tryst with Chopper, and Abigail 
would have to deal with that. Hell, Abigail would have to deal with 
whether she approved herself. After all, it wasn't attraction of mutual 
compatibility or anything sensible like that. Abigail wanted to see more 
of Chopper's wonderful and amorous side, and Chopper wanted... whatever 
it was that Chopper wanted. It must have been more than just the sex, or 
else she would not have left Erin behind her. 
    
    Abigail decided not to think any more about *that*. Right now it was 
one more worry that she didn't need. Instead she finished her unpleasant 
breakfast and watched as the more responsible survivors packed away 
their things and loaded up the carts. As before, the second was 
delegated the corpse duty, only this time there was only one body.
    
    "Damn! This bastard's heavy!" Bason grunted as he, Kyle, Harris and 
the driver all dragged the super mutant around to the waiting cart. Once 
they actually hefted it up there, the monster's body would fill it 
almost completely. 
    
    "At least he hasn't started to rot yet," the driver said. He was 
evidently trying to look on the bright side. Either that or it was a 
morbid premonition of what he would have to put up with during his 
return trip home.
    
    Not that he would have to worry. Abigail knew that those monsters 
didn't decay, at least not so quickly, and she told them as much. It 
seemed to put the driver's mind at greater ease.
    
***
    
    "Chopper?"
    
    The medic looked up briefly from where she knelt in the back of the 
mutant's cart, while Abigail walked alone behind. It looked like Chopper 
was rather enjoying the chance to examine the dead brute.
    
    "Just so I know... How mad *are* they going to be that I killed it?"
    
    It was silly that she was feeling guilt over the murder, this murder 
in particular, but with nothing else to do but walk and think it had 
started to prey on her mind. 
    
    "Who knows?" Chopper answered with a shrug. Maybe she had expected 
it to be a more important question. "Lilis might be pissed right now, 
but the Brotherhood must be fucking ecstatic. It'll have saved them from 
having to bother themselves."
    
    "But is that a bad thing?"
    
    "It just doesn't strike me as a good idea to get involved with a 
group that'll shoot you in the back for the sake of a fuel cell."
    
    That struck Abigail as pretty hypocritical. "Jassic was stealing the 
Hearts' boots." 
    
    Chopper gave her an amused smile. "I wouldn't get too involved with 
him either."
    
    Abigail frowned. "It's not possible to have a sensible conversation 
with you after all, is it?"
    
    Again, Chopper didn't seem to care. If anything, she was thinking 
that Abigail's pouting was cute. "Okay, say Golway *does* take issue 
with this great lump's death. What will he do about it?"
    
    "I don't know," Abigail replied. "That's what worries me."
    
    Chopper sighed, sounding disappointed. "Seriously, think about it a 
moment, Abby. We have fixed his problem, we get paid, he gets to worry 
about what it might mean afterwards. The fact that he hasn't taken it 
upon himself to shoot Rathley yet should tell you something about the 
man. He's not one for rash action or anger. That's something you could 
learn from him, for that matter."
    
    "So you *do* think I should have let that monster live?"
    
    "It would have made things more interesting," Chopper quipped, "but 
I was thinking about you and Lilis. It's never a good idea to hit your 
boss, and you were raring for another swing at her again yesterday. That 
was plain stupid."
    
    "I'm sorry, I was angry. I had a right to be, both times!"
    
    "Maybe so, but a less stable person might have shot you for it. 
Sure, you have a lot to be angry about - vault getting torn up and 
everything, being put through Rathley's shit - but you need to manage 
that anger. Put that into your fights, like you did against this guy."
    
    She tapped the dead mutant's green hide. "You physically jumped on 
him for god's sake. Evidently that kind of recklessness works for you, 
but you took the same anger out on the one woman who saved our asses at 
the Diamond Ring."
    
    It was true. "It just happened," Abigail finally said, though 
afterwards she thought it sounded a little lame.
    
    "So learn to harness it. You think I could unload my gun into 
someone if I wasn't angry enough to kill them right then and there? 
Would you have leaped on this guy if you weren't mad as hell? Though 
incidentally," she added, "that was really fucking stupid, but that's 
par for the course with you and gunfights, isn't it?"
    
    "It didn't seem like I had much choice at the time."
    
    Chopper raised and eyebrow. "Well, at least you didn't die. I'd have 
missed out on a *very* good thing if you had."
    
    Abigail found herself blushing at the sudden and unexpected flirt. 
"... Yeah. I would have too."
    
    "So," she said, changing the subject for the sake of her 
embarrassment, "do you know what it is yet?"
    
    "Nope," Chopper said simply. "I can't even tell what sex it is, and 
it sure as hell isn't human. Or not any more, anyway. But it's not a 
ghoul either. At least they look sort of human when you cut them open. 
This guy's got the basic organ structure right, but he's all the wrong 
shapes when you find them."
    
    Abigail wasn't interested enough to want to visualise that. "Won't 
they be mad if you cut him up too much?"
    
    "Eh, I'm sure the Brotherhood would've done it anyway, so I might as 
well ruin their fun."
    
    "Are they really that bad? Initiate Harris seems nice enough."
    
    Chopper just gave her a look. "Why don't you ask him?"

***
    
    Initiate Harris was, by all accounts, a nice enough man. He might 
have looked thick in comparison to the more cautious and wary castes of 
the Merc faces around him, but if anything he was better educated than 
any of them. As Abigail knew, an academic education was hardly of the 
greatest use out in the desert, but like her he was more intelligent 
than he appeared to be. The fact that he had already deactivated the 
laser gun he had confiscated meant that it was now useless to anyone but 
himself, and most of the Mercs could respect that. His academics, like 
Abigail's, just happened not to be applicable most of the time.
    
    And he did not seem inconsiderate in the way Chopper painted him 
either. As the journey went on he was one of the few, along with Chopper 
and Sharn, who continued to check on Kirren and make sure that she was 
not too uncomfortable in the back of the wagon with them. The raider 
hunter was reluctant to talk to anyone, but she did at least seem to 
appreciate their concern, however unwarranted she claimed it to be. 
    
    But... "Of course, it had to die. Now our scribes can study it, so 
that we can fight them better in the future."
    
    ... he was open about the fact when Abigail asked.
    
    "Had we not managed to kill it," the Brotherhood man went on, "it 
would have taken our lives instead. That we took as many casualties as 
we did is a travesty. That *thing*," he said, stressing the word, "has 
to be the greatest mutant threat to us in the entire Mid-Waste."
    
    "And just how many mutant threats are there out here?" Chopper 
asked, not looking up from Abigail's textbook. She was done with her 
studies on the real corpse for now, and Jassic and Bason had drawn 
walking duty for the afternoon, giving her and Abigail their seats.
    
    It was also the first thing she had said to the Brotherhood man, and 
several of them noticed that fact all too clearly. Except Initiate 
Harris himself.  
    
    "*Every* mutant is a threat," he replied. Abigail was surprised by 
how serious he sounded. "One way or the other. Those that can will 
contaminate our gene pool. Those that can't will use their weakness to 
hang us with our own compassion, or use their strength to destroy us."
    
    He looked straight at Abigail. "Your ghouls will be the death of 
you, vault girl. Just like the whole of Corva."
    
    "Wait, you can't put them in the same bracket as that monster!" 
Abigail replied, stunned beyond belief. "They're harmless! They're the 
*victims* up here!"
    
    Rathley chuckled, though without as much humour as usual, as he 
saved Harris the effort of explaining. "You haven't seen a ghoul beat an 
armed man to death bare handed yet, Abby. They're just as bad as the 
rest of us, give 'em a chance."
    
    "They are disease carriers and carrion eaters," Harris said, without 
Rathley's ironic levity. "And they are sucking up your resources and 
your guilt when they require neither. They are corrupting you from 
within."
    
    "They're not bad people!" Abigail argued back. "And they don't make 
people sick! Do they?"
    
    She turned to Chopper for confirmation. The doctor looked up from 
her book briefly. "Not in Corva they don't. Elsewhere..."
    
    "Abigail," Sharn finally said, "ghouls can be bad people as well. 
After what they've gone through, sometimes they just lose it."
    
    "What they intend is irrelevant," Initiate Harris said, as if it 
would clarify the matter. "A mutant is a mutant. Your sociable ghouls 
should consider themselves lucky that they cannot breed, or else Mr 
Golway would not allow them to remain in his town."
    
    Chopper chuckled at that, and drew their stares, but she did not 
elaborate. Maybe Harris was being too naive, or else the Brotherhood 
were simply being lied to for the sake of Corva's security. From the 
look on Kyle and Chopper's faces, Abigail guessed that the latter was 
probably the case. Good, she thought, if that was the kind of attitude 
these Brotherhood of Steel people had. She never would have thought that 
the most well taught people of the wasteland could also be the most 
bigoted! 
    
    "So where does that leave our little Lilis then?" Kirren asked. It 
was a rather spiteful question, but then the woman was in no fit state 
for consideration to be her main concern. Even though Abigail could not 
tell which side the Merc woman was taking, Kirren looked thoroughly sick 
of the debate.
    
    Rathley raised a curious eyebrow in Harris' direction. "Now there is 
a question." He reached over the empty water barrel behind him up to the 
driving seats, and gave Lilis a smack on the rear that Abigail assumed 
was supposed to be playful.
    
    Lilis did not retaliate with her boot, though she easily could have 
done. Abigail honestly didn't know whether that was a commendable show 
of restraint on her part, or restraint taken too far. After all, Lilis 
had not seemed like a woman to suffer fools gladly.
    
    Harris didn't bat an eyelid at the comment. "She has apparently 
proved her usefulness to Mr Golway, and she cannot have children. I 
doubt she would throw away her only freedoms, however dubious, to go out 
of her way just to prove the necessity of removing Corva's mutant 
population."
    
    "Fuck you, *Initiate*," Lilis replied, angered, but without the 
threat of violence. 
    
    Abigail just couldn't understand it, and her outrage gave way to 
absolute confusion. "How can you say that..?" she asked the armed and 
armoured man.
    
    Harris returned her look levelly, and with neither anger nor 
apology. "It's the truth."
    
***
    
    Abigail did not quite get over her surprise even by the time night 
had fallen. She had kept thinking back to her afternoon with the ghouls 
of Corva, and how hospitable they had been to her. They had gone out of 
their way to make her feel welcomed, to the point that Abigail had 
thought several of them were trying much too hard in order to strike up 
a friendship. Christian had just been charming in his own way, but the 
generous ghoul Albert and poor, rag-lipped Celia had seemed so grateful 
for the honest friendly company, as Abigail had been.
    
    Abigail had never considered that anyone could lump them in the same 
category as the violent super mutant. Or even with Lilis. She could 
understand why the ghouls were disliked - they looked hideous, and 
reminded people both of how vulnerable their own bodies were, and of 
their own mortality - but for there to be a whole 'mutant' subclass? 
That was just unfair. Mutation was a part of evolution, and in this 
wasteland people *had* evolved, if only in their mentality for survival.
    
    And however little Abigail wanted to admit it, it made her feel 
guilty over how she had treated Lilis up to that point. Even if it had 
been inadvertent, she had made Lilis admit to her own status as a mutant 
in front of all the Mercs at the Diamond Ring, which in turn must have 
been why Rathley had talked about it openly that afternoon, instead of 
keeping his vague whisperings out of the woman's earshot. 
    
    Now, with almost half of their party dead, Lilis did not sit with 
company when the time came to set up camp for the night. She ate with 
the two drivers, but retired to her small canvas shelter quickly. She 
did not hide why either. She was still furious at Harris and Rathley for 
their behaviour that afternoon, but could do nothing about it. Neither 
one would listen to criticism, and both could turn any physical 
objection back around on her. Lilis was intelligent and cunning, but she 
was no fighter. She did not even carry a weapon.
    
    "Abigail," the woman greeted, as Abigail waited outside the small 
pyramid of cloth. "What do you need?"
    
    That was allowance enough, and Abigail crawled into the tent, able 
to sit upright only because she was not as tall as Lilis. "I just wanted 
to say I'm sorry," Abigail said. "I was out of line, and I didn't mean 
to give away your secret back then. I didn't know you were, you know, 
different."
    
    Lilis' expression remained blank, but her voice was softer than 
Abigail expected. "Not as 'different' as most. And there was no secret. 
If they didn't know, it's because they didn't need to."
    
    "Oh. I'm still sorry though."
    
    Lilis sat up and hunched over so as not to hit her head on the top 
pole of the tent. As Abigail had spoken her eyes had turned keen, as if 
Abigail was being analysed.
    
    "You are playing a dangerous game, Abigail Iseley."
    
    Abigail blinked. "What? I'm not..."
    
    "Not regarding this. But think about where you are, and who you are 
with. You are allied to worrying people, and it was clear today that 
sleeping with Chopper has softened your attitude towards her further 
still. Now you are pitying a prostitute for the deformities that have 
guaranteed her a high paying line of work instead of having to take on 
any customer possible."
    
    "I didn't mean it like that," Abigail objected, but still Lilis 
didn't actually show any sign of being offended. No more than she had 
already been by the day.
    
    "I appreciate the sentiment," Lilis clarified, "but I have no use 
for pity. Right now, for a sensitive girl like yourself, you should be 
thinking about the people who you *can* help, not worrying about someone 
who is being paid to deal with much worse people than you.
    
    "No doubt Chopper is waiting for you again tonight. While I know 
little of her personally, she has a reputation for taking advantage of 
her women at every opportunity. And of course your sniper friend has 
been looking less than happy."
    
    Abigail could understand what Lilis was getting at. "I know. And 
Kirren needs someone to help her, and Rathley probably had his only real 
friend killed... But this is what everyone keeps saying to me - that's 
all stuff that they'll have to deal with on their own, right? If I have 
to do anything, then I should make up for my own mistakes first, and... 
I don't like what you did, but I know why you did it. I should have been 
thanking you, not getting mad."
    
    Lilis nodded, and finally accepted Abigail's apology. "If that is 
the way you intend to deal with it."
    
    Abigail nodded in reply, trying to smile in a friendly way. "Maybe 
I'll find a better way later."
    
    Right then though, she had to follow her heart and allow herself her 
selfishness, or else the wide open space and the sickening bloodshed 
would drive her insane. She needed just a little confirmation that she 
was still human.
    
    That was why she returned to her own large tent after leaving Lilis. 
Sharn was standing outside, but didn't say anything as Abigail 
approached. Likewise, however much she wanted to, she didn't speak to 
Sharn either. Neither of them wanted to think about it, but for entirely 
different reasons. 
    
    As Abigail was about to pass her, Sharn sighed. "Me and Kyle will be 
coming to bed later... So I'll see you tomorrow."
    
    "Yeah," Abigail replied awkwardly. "Sleep well, Sharn."
    
    So Sharn left her to it as Abigail pulled back the tent flap and 
stepped inside. Chopper had her table out and was using it to put her 
medical tin and supplies back in order, but Abigail didn't let her 
finish. She reached for Chopper's cheeks as the woman turned, and pulled 
herself up to meet the older woman's lips.
    
    "No need to pretend, right?" Abigail bit her lip at how hasty she 
sounded, before leaning forward and kissing her deeply again.
    
    Chopper smiled as their lips and tongues met, and pulled Abigail 
around to lean her against the medical table. Abigail did not resist, 
and instead returned Chopper's sudden, strong embrace.
    
    "Sia and Kyle will be coming soon," Chopper whispered against her 
ear, as if the thought was meant to tease her.
    
    Abigail shook her head as her hands began to roam over Chopper's 
clothes. "Not yet."
    
    Chopper grinned and pulled back to face Abigail properly, her hand 
tracing slowly down Abigail's back. "Good."

***
    
    Abigail chose to walk again the following morning. Breakfast had 
been subdued for her, and not only because it had been so meagre. More 
and more the Mercs were regarding her not with curiosity or derisive 
compassion for a little girl out of her depth, but with amused and 
knowing eyes. 'Maybe she's not so sheltered after all,' some seemed to 
say, and 'That's a turn up for the books,' whispered others. Even 
Kirren, tired and hurting in the back of the cart, looked at her as if 
she wanted to shake her head and ask where all those morals and ideals 
of hers had gone.
    
    Or maybe it was just Abigail's own paranoia. None of them actually 
said anything, but Abigail didn't need the worry of their stares as they 
rode through the blank, wasted desert.
    
    At least those she walked with knew it all in full. Sharn and Kyle 
didn't have to stare to make their opinions known, and Abigail had hoped 
that it would give her a chance to repair some of the damage that her 
newfound relationship with Chopper had done.
    
    Not that it would be so easy.
    
    "You sounded like you had fun last night." It was a simple 
observation from Sharn, but there was a hint of accusation there. It 
wasn't new to Abigail, she was well aware how easily she must had 
alerted their camp to her lovemaking. 
    
    But she had already come up with her reply to such an obvious 
remark. "You did as well."
    
    Sharn didn't deny it in the least, for which Abigail was glad. Sharn 
had obviously been letting out her frustrations just as energetically, 
and Abigail would have been lying if she had said it hadn't heightened 
her own experiences. How disgusting was that?
    
    "Kyle doesn't treat me like trash."
    
    "Chopper didn't either," was Abigail's simply rebuttal, but it 
wasn't entirely honest. Chopper *had* treated her roughly, in those 
weeks before their night together, just as she did everyone else. But 
that outward attitude was exactly the reason Abigail found herself 
attracted. She had been allowed behind the roughness and cruel humour, 
into Chopper's rakish and flirtatious fantasies. "Not as a... partner."
    
    Sharn seemed to be trying to accept that, but looked far from 
convinced. "That makes up for her being so unpleasant the rest of the 
time, then?"
    
    "I've been trying not to think about that," Abigail replied 
honestly. Then she corrected herself, now that it was finally brought to 
her attention. "Actually, she would be like that anyway. I guess this 
way I'm just taking the chance to see the nice side of her as well."
    
    "That's like saying I'd sleep with Rathley just because he's 
supposed to be great in bed. It doesn't make him any less of a bastard."
    
    "That's not fair," Abigail said, unable to find a comeback. "I mean, 
her personality is a bit twisted and she seems to have a bad sense of 
humour, but she's also a doctor who goes out of her way to help people! 
You said so yourself!"
    
    "And to be fair," Kyle added, finally speaking up, "Chopper wouldn't 
shoot you in the back for the sake of her own skin."
    
    Abigail looked at him in worry. "Rathley would?"
    
    The gunman just nodded. "If he had to. I'm surprised he didn't take 
it out on you after you put a knife in his arm."
    
    "Hey!" Sharn interrupted, looking betrayed. "Why do you keep taking 
her side!?"
    
    Kyle gave a glace towards Abigail, and then back to his lover. "For 
one - Chopper's less inclined to get nasty when she's getting laid. 
Don't tell me you didn't notice the difference after she dropped Erin."
    
    "Well, yeah, but..."
    
    "And besides, it might do Abby some good having to deal with someone 
like her up close."
    
    It wasn't very flattering, but it was a vindication of Abigail's 
feelings. "Thanks Kyle. I think Chopper can be more pleasant, if she 
wants to be. I know she can, or I never would have wanted to stay with 
her."
    
    Sharn sighed, and accepted it. "She's going to hurt you, one way or 
the other," she warned. "And when she wants to hurts someone she'll be 
worse than Rathley's deathclaws."
    
    "She's not that cruel," Abigail replied. "Not the Chopper I was 
with."
    
    Kyle was non-committal on that point. "As long as she doesn't have a 
reason to be."
    
    But Abigail wouldn't be deterred. Chopper had an unkind sense of 
humour at times, but she couldn't seriously be so vicious about it the 
way Sharn had implied. Not the Chopper who had so expertly guided them 
both to heaven and back last night.
    
***
    
    Come the afternoon and Corva was already within sight, much to 
Abigail's surprise. She had to check her PipBoy's map again just to be 
sure, but they were returning in a much straighter line than the way 
they had headed out. 
    
    "We did waste most of a day going over those raider tracks," Kyle 
said. "Then again, you were playing with your computer or sleeping 
through the last leg."
    
    At the front of the caravan the driver disagreed. "No, we're 
actually taking the *long* way back. We'd've been back by before 
nightfall if we'd made a proper line straight home, but Golway wanted us 
to scout out the area properly while we're at it so we're finishing our 
circle around the east side.
    
    "That quickly?" Abigail marvelled. "I guess I wasn't paying enough 
attention."
    
    "You had things on your mind," Sharn said simply, but Abigail smiled 
in gratitude for a valid excuse. She *had* been worried about the fight, 
and rightly so.
    
    "And our brahmin aren't as slow as they look," the driver added, 
sounding proud of his animals.
    
    "So," Jassic said from his perch, "What do you think the pay's 
likely to get to, eh? Even with this baby," he patted the obscene 
shotgun he had bought off Stephanie, "I was ready to snuff it once I saw 
that bastard."
    
    He jerked his thumb towards the corpse cart and its single occupant. 
"So what do you say, Lilis? You gonna talk up a decent price for us?"
    
    Sitting with the driver Lilis shook her head. "I won't have to. Once 
the Mayor sees that body he should be rather happy to pay whatever you 
ask."
    
    Jassic looked very satisfied by that. "Damn... Maybe it's about time 
I got me some hard caps. I've already bought the best gun in town!" Then 
he lost the top off his enthusiasm. "Feh, must be nice to be rich enough 
to pay out like that."
    
    In the corner of the cart Chopper looked up from her book, and 
closed the page entitled, 'Venting your Spleen: The Surgeon's Way'.
    
    "You think so?" she asked the jealous mercenary. "Having a town's 
wealth at his fingertips doesn't seem to help Golway sleep."
    
    "Why the hell shouldn't it?" Jassic asked in return. "He must be 
richer than fucking God to pay us for these death-runs. Plenty to eat, 
personal police squad, he can pamper his little dyke daughter to her 
heart's content... Hell, he bought in a Brotherhood Initiate! That's one 
secure fucking man!"
    
    Chopper only laughed. "Ha! Plenty to eat, but only when there's food 
to buy after the winds come in off the Cobalt Line. A personal police 
squad so dubious he knows which ones are worth killing off on dangerous 
jobs."
    
    "Hey, we're not all corrupt like Anton was, Chopper!" the driver 
retorted, but Chopper kept going.
    
    "A daughter he has to wall up inside her own personal library, only 
to have her start outsmarting him what with all that educational 
material at her disposal, and it still leaves her bored enough to keep 
chasing someone he really doesn't like!"
    
    She smirked at Jassic's simple-mindedness, and pointed to Initiate 
Harris. "And I doubt getting *him* in was a matter of money."
    
    Harris frowned at her tone, but agreed. "This was a matter of mutual 
information gathering, and of survival. Given the outcome it was a very 
important agreement to have been reached. There is a lot that the 
Elders, and every town of the Mid Waste, will have to decide upon now."
    
    Kirren stared at him without much enthusiasm. "Must be an honour for 
an Initiate. All that tech and blood in one outing."
    
    In contrast Harris regarded her with the compassion that he had been 
unable to show when talking about the ghouls. "Believe me, I do 
appreciate your losses. But what we have won from it will keep us aware 
and alive when more of these super mutants appear. Would you rather not 
have known?"
    
    Kirren didn't answer, but she obviously didn't like what she was 
hearing, though whether it was the truth behind his words or the 
compassion in them that the one armed woman couldn't stomach, Abigail 
didn't know.
    
    But then, that wasn't what she was most worried about. The moment 
Erin's name had been mentioned she had been forced to think about what 
she could do about her when they returned. If last time was any 
indication Erin would be waiting for Chopper's return and she doubted 
that she would be able to hide the fact that, in becoming closer to 
Chopper, she had done exactly what she had assured the girl she would 
not do. Abigail knew that she had a terrible poker face. She was used to 
admitting her guilt on the spot, as she always had inside the vault, so 
she had never needed one. 
    
    Honestly, she doubted she would have to wait before one of the Mercs 
spilled her secret to the mayor's daughter. Either Chopper or herself 
would give it away, and that would be that. So what could she do to try 
and repair the damage? She didn't want Erin to be hurt. If anything she 
liked the girl. She was rather too intense, but it had been nice to meet 
someone who was, like her, more at home *without* a gun in her hands. 
    
    The trouble was she couldn't think of a single thing that would not 
simply upset or anger the girl further. As welcome as the sight of the 
town was, Abigail wished that they would not arrive quite so quickly. 
    
    So of course they were there before Abigail knew it. Once again no 
fanfare welcomed them, but this time Abigail was thankful for that. 
Lilis had taken the trouble to cover the body of the super mutant with a 
folded tent, so that the huge corpse would not alarm the few people who 
were around to see them arrive. 
     
    And, right on cue, Erin was there to greet them outside the police 
building, even before her father had been notified of their return. 
Maybe the swiftness of her appearance was proportional to the level of 
danger in the job, but it made Abigail's stomach churn to think that the 
girl hadn't even waited inside until after the debriefing. 
    
    The way she smiled only made Abigail feel worse.
    
    "Welcome back," Erin beamed. Her long skirt flowed with her 
footsteps. "I am glad you have all returned well. When I saw how sparse 
your group was I began to worry..."
    
    She looked at Kirren as the girl rode past, still in the cart. "Or, 
nearly all of you. It was as bad as you said, Abigail?"
    
    Abigail swallowed hard, because she thought that if she spoke her 
larynx might leap out of her throat. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, it was."
    
    To her distress Kyle, Sharn and Rathley did not stay, but only 
greeted the girl in passing before they followed the others to where the 
Mayor was waiting. And the smirk on Rathley's face, as well as Jassic's 
as he passed, were telling.
    
    "Erin, you can stop now," Chopper said, frank as always.
    
    "Oh?" Erin replied. "You know just why I am happy to see you back."
    
    But Erin had not been blind to Jassic's smile though, or to 
Abigail's discomfort. "Though if there is something I should be aware 
of, now is the time, Chopper. Your friends usually prefer to watch your 
little displays of denial. We always make such good comedy for them."
    
    Chopper looked at her, more serious than usual. "Do you want to 
embarrass yourself out here, Erin?"
    
    "Why should I stop now? Well, Chopper?"
    
    Had she already realised? Abigail didn't know, but even after 
fighting for her life on more than one occasion, going as far as to kill 
her attackers, she couldn't bear to let Erin go on like this without 
saying anything. 
    
    "Erin, I'm..." And her wits evaporated half way through.
    
    "...sorry."
    
    It sounded as pathetic as Abigail felt, but it had done what it 
needed to. Erin stared at her for a long time, and then at Chopper even 
longer. Abigail silently begged Chopper to say something to break the 
tension, but evidently the older woman thought better of it. 
    
    Erin's composure never broke. Without a sound, or even a quiver from 
her pale lips, a tear flung itself from Erin's eye as the only evidence 
of her grief. When she moved to slap Abigail, the vault dweller let it 
happen, and the hit sent her head reeling. It was perverse; she was 
slowly becoming used to the terror of being shot at, but this was the 
first time she had ever been hit in earnest and in person. It hurt much 
deeper than the red mark on her cheek showed. 
    
    Beside her Chopper caught Erin's arm after the strike, and held it 
firm until Erin's emotional eyes winced. "That's enough, Erin. Give it 
up already."
    
    "How could you?" Erin accused her old lover, her voice cracking, but 
Chopper just let her free without an answer. The girl stood staring for 
a moment longer before she turned her back and silently walked away. To 
Abigail it looked as though that walk was a terrible one for her.
    
    Then, intruding on Abigail's guilt came the strong reassurance of 
Chopper's arm around her waist, guiding her to follow the girl into the 
building. "Don't worry about her, Abby. It's not her business, and it 
hasn't been for a long time."
    
    Abigail was grateful for the touch, but she knew Chopper was wrong. 
If for no other reason; by going back on her word Abigail had made sure 
that it had become Erin's business.

***
    
    The debrief that had followed had in fact been very brief, even more 
so than on Abigail's first mission. After a short discussion between 
Lilis, Initiate Harris and Mayor Golway the exorbitant payments for 
their services had been meted out, but little else was said or disclosed 
about where either the Mayor or the Brotherhood would be going from 
there. 'The Threat' was mentioned only in passing, and the dead not at 
all.
    
    And none of them seemed to care either. They had their money and 
their loot, and that was the end of it. Until next time, anyway. Chopper 
had even said that, if anyone was to count only in caps, Abigail would 
now be among the town's richest inhabitants. True, she had almost no 
property either, and that was the true measure of wealth, but she could 
now change that at any time if she wanted.
    
    That wasn't what Abigail wanted right then though. She wanted rest, 
comfort, and the weight of her wrongdoings off her mind. She felt guilty 
about Erin, and about Kirren's injury, and about Seb and Old Bert being 
dead. It seemed that the less the others showed about any of that, the 
more Abigail had to feel it was her responsibility, whether or not that 
guilt was justified. 
    
    She didn't let it depress her though. She now knew these people too 
well to get upset about their backwards priorities. She would have 
expected Sharn to be so much more sensitive and affected by what had 
happened to them all, but Sharn had made her peace with the dead back at 
the site of the bloodshed. She had personally buried every body, friend 
and foe alike, so that their souls could rest easily. Kyle had assisted 
her even though he probably saw no point in it. For him, aiding his 
girlfriend was what would keep his mind clear.
    
    Either that or he genuinely felt no guilt. He *was* a gun fighter, 
through and through. He probably had a much more simple view of the 
world than Sharn and Abigail did. The wasteland was a less dangerous 
place now that it had lost the people that he had killed. Abigail had no 
doubt that it was the same for Rathley, except he might not even care 
about the end result. He was alive, and he had been paid. The single 
slip of paper he had been given looked as though it had been worth more 
to him than any amount of bent bottle caps. 
    
    But he had grieved for Old Bert, in his own way. After being patched 
up he had claimed a bottle of lethal old scotch at the battleground, and 
drunk it alone, sitting beside the old pest exterminator's grave. 
Abigail had seen him even if the others had been occupied with more 
important matters. She had been grieving as well, even as she had looted 
the dead. Stealing their possessions herself had made her feel dirty, 
and she had almost run away entirely afterwards. Except that she had 
found no-one to run to, except Chopper.
     
    But what was the point in hating herself for any of that? Her life 
now was not one of a comfortable technician, but of a wasteland 
mercenary and scavenger. If she did not take from the dead, what she had 
fought for would be taken by others. And it was not as if she had stolen 
from those who had meant something to her. The blasted corpses of the 
raiders had held what she wanted, and what she would probably need to 
survive up there in the desert. 
    
    And she was surviving. She was surviving very well. She had allies 
she could trust, if only a few, and she had the caps to make sure that 
she would stay fed and living in relative comfort. She had made her 
mistakes, but she now vowed to herself that she would make up for them 
as best as she could. It might not be easy, and she might not be 
forgiven, but she needed to try. Even if she could only find a little 
empathy for the people of Corva as a whole, they did not deserve to be 
left to fend for themselves against the murderers and monsters she had 
been thrown up against, and people like Erin, Stephanie, Christian and 
Celia deserved it even less.
    
    She was broken out of her reverie by a voice from outside the hall. 
Abigail had collected her pay quickly, and was now waiting alone for her 
companions to finish bartering with the others for more mundane 
supplies. 
    
    "You might dress the part, but you are not like these people," 
Initiate Harris said from the doorway that led further into the police 
building. "You do not act their way, or fight their way, or even think 
their way, do you?"
    
    Abigail could not deny it, but she didn't turn to face the 
Brotherhood man. "No, I don't think I do. But they are my friends."
    
    "Friends? I have heard how you have been treated by them. Your 
skills and education could be put to better use."
    
    "I want to help them."
    
    "You can," Harris insisted, "and you do not need to be on the 
battlefield to do so. If you do have the education that I suspect you 
do, I could put in a petition on your part for entry into the 
Brotherhood. Science, technology, medicine, even social relations with 
these people, what are your strongest skills?"
    
    "... I was going to be a mechanic."
    
    "Repair and maintenance," Harris said with approval. "Those are 
vital skills here in the wasteland. No-one can afford to have their 
water systems degrading, or their weapons malfunctioning. Our chapter of 
the Brotherhood does not recruit, but neither would our Elders turn a 
blind eye to talents that would be lost if you ended up like them. You 
could be an exception. I am certain." 
    
    That was a temptation that Abigail could not afford. With the kind 
of technology that she had heard they possessed, the Brotherhood might 
be able to go a long way to giving her some of her old life back. Maybe 
they lived in a vault, or in a modern town without all the sand and the 
blood sports and the townsfolk who *wanted* to remain oblivious to the 
politics and dangers around them. People who cared for nothing but their 
own skins, their caps and alcohol, and for as long a break as possible 
before the changing of the radioactive winds.
    
    But she could no more abandon Sharn and Kyle and Chopper as she 
could have left her parents and her friends within Vault 42. And she 
could never turn on the ghouls who had show her such friendship even 
despite how poorly they were regarded by the normal people of the town.
    
    "I won't leave them. I don't care what you think. If I'm here, then 
I can help them."
    
    She heard Harris sigh behind her. "You can try, but you won't 
succeed. They will turn you into one of their own before you can change 
them. But," he added, "I will wish you luck. With those people, you'll 
need all of it you can get."
    
    Even as she heard his boots turning to leave, Abigail felt a grim 
smile appearing on her face. "It doesn't matter. Lady Luck and I... 
We've never been on speaking terms."
    
***
    
    "Still brooding?" Chopper asked as she, at long last, returned to 
their inn room. 
    
    "I wasn't brooding," Abigail replied, less than pleased. "It's 
called responsible guilt."
    
    Beside her on the rickety, over-made bed, Kyle laughed. "You don't 
want to be fostering any of that, Abby. It isn't conductive to good 
health."
    
    That didn't sound right coming from a man as otherwise considerate 
as Kyle, but she let it go for the sake of her sanity, and instead 
turned her attention to the oversized bag that Chopper was carrying. 
Just like Sharn, Kyle and Rathley, she had evidently claimed back all 
her worldly possessions from the scavenging company locker as well. 
    
    "Is the storage fee really that bad?" she asked.
    
    Chopper just shrugged and sat down on her other side, giving her a 
rakish wink. "Charging us for taking up a few square feet of locker 
space? I can think of better people to be spending my caps on."
    
    Abigail hoped she was trying to be sweet, because it was working if 
the heat that filled her cheeks was anything to go by! "Err, right." 
Maybe we can get away with a little open affection, she justified to 
herself, and she took Chopper's arm as the woman began to re-pack. "So, 
why are you all really checking your stuff out? Are we leaving?"
    
    Honestly she hoped not, because she still had too many things to say 
to too many people. Besides, "I haven't got back at Rathley for the 
pigrat thing yet."
    
    Rathley looked up from his place on the floor, where he was checking 
over his two dozen or so shells of ammunition. "I wouldn't think too 
hard about pushin' your luck, Sugar. I'm workin' on a nice scar here 
thanks to your throwin' arm. "
    
    True enough, he still wore the bandage around the arm that she had 
tossed a knife into, and Abigail suddenly felt ashamed about 
entertaining the idea at all. "I said I was sorry. I just... I wasn't 
thinking too straight then."
    
    "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," Chopper said, grinning all the 
while as she tossed her own pile of loose bullets into a small pouch at 
the bottom of her bag, with far less care than the other three had 
shown. "We *were* thinking about moving on in a bit, but not for a day 
or two."
    
    "I'd have thought you would want to make the most of your freedom to 
work here," Abigail said, still leaning on Chopper's side, but Chopper 
shrugged.
    
    "Eh, we'll be back this way soon enough. The Cobalt Line's still the 
best Scav ground out here."
    
    "And I got a few people to see now," Rathley added, sounding 
satisfied. "I wouldn't want to keep 'em waitin'."
    
    It was a shame, Abigail thought. There was still so much she wanted 
to do in Corva, and they would be leaving so that Rathley could go and 
kill people he'd got on the wrong side of. Probably kill, anyway. Maybe 
it wouldn't come to that, but she had to be realistic. She just hoped 
that they really did deserve it.
    
    Sharn did at least notice her mood. "Don't worry, Abby-girl. We'll 
keep him in line, right? But there's not much reason to stay for now. We 
don't think that Mayor Golway will be asking for more Mercs for a while, 
and frankly I didn't much like the work."
    
    Kyle agreed. "He is going to be looking at contacting the other 
towns out south and east. If he can get his foot in the door on this, 
especially with the Brotherhood of Steel on his side, he will end up 
being a very important part of whatever they turn up between them about 
the super mutants. But, logistics isn't out thing. We can leave that to 
Bason and Jassic."
    
     "And the Scav company isn't hiring for a bit," Sharn continued, 
"except for surveying work, and that's both boring *and* dangerous 
around here, what with the radiation levels and all that."
    
    "But," she added, "we've got people to see too, and loose ends to 
tie up." There was a glint in her eyes as she spoke, which Abigail 
hadn't seen since Sharn had first found out about her sexual 
proclivities. "And we wouldn't want Rathley to miss his appointment."
    
    The older man looked up again, immediately suspicious. "Eh? You 
girls been up to somethin' again?"
    
    Abigail blinked in confusion. "What did they do the first time?"
    
    Chopper didn't answer her, but she did wrap her arm around Abigail 
and manage to look very satisfied about it. "Well, Sia and myself, we 
thought that Abby would like to see what a real professional looked like 
in the rat pen."
    
    "You conniving little fucks!"
    
    Suddenly Abigail was worried about what Chopper and Sharn might have 
done, especially if it was partly on her behalf. "Chopper? You didn't, 
did you?"
    
    Chopper just smirked, and Sharn looked just as happy.
    
    "Well, I guess if I could do it, at least you'll have no problem," 
Abigail said lamely, but she had somewhat missed the point.
    
    "I doubt he will have it quite so easy," Kyle said, looking like he 
was happy to stay out of this potential disaster area.
    
    "You should haven't have got injured like you did, Abby-girl," Sharn 
said, "but you were just a beginner."
    
    "So, since Rathley's such an expert," Chopper finished, "he gets to 
try the expert level!"
    
    The more they said the more worried Abigail felt, and it showed. "So 
what's expert level?"
    
    "You got me wrestlin' a fuckin' molerat?" Rathley glared. "I still 
got your goddam stitches in my arm!" 
    
    "You're tough, you'll manage," Sharn said, shrugging but also making 
sure she was out of Rathley's reach. "And it's not like you'd use a 
spear even if they gave you one."
    
    Now Abigail wore her apology on her face as clear as day. "U-
unarmed!? Which one is the molerat again? Moles *are* smaller than pigs, 
right?"
    
    "It doesn't quite work like that for mole *rats*, Abby," Kyle said, 
but like the women he didn't seem overly worried either. Which only 
confused Abigail even more. "Don't worry about the unarmed thing. 
Rathley's much better at brawling than he is with a knife or spear."
    
    He gave the man a curious look. "He's handled worse."
    
    What didn't calm Abigail's fears was Rathley looking ready to attack 
them at any moment. "... Alright," he grated out, "eye for an eye, I can 
understand that. But you'd better win me a damn good share, and I'd 
better get the same free fucking first aid that dyke did afterwards."
    
    Anigail frowned at him despite her worry. "Don't you dare call me 
that. I'm trying to be on your side!"
    
    Chopper just smiled at him, still with her hand securely around 
Abigail's waist. She gave her a squeeze to placate her after Rathley's 
outburst. "Naturally, old man. You'll get your stimpaks. And don't look 
like that, Abby. I don't expect I'll like watching it any more than you. 
I hate rats, remember?"
    
    "It's not the rat I'm worried about!" Abigail objected quietly, 
though she still frowned at Rathley.
    
    Chopper gave her a quick kiss, a quirk of amusement in her lips at 
the girl's concern. "Just think of it as furthering your education. 
Besides, this barbarous place likes a good rat fight. If he wins it will 
do his wayward reputation a world of good!"

***
    
    "I guess he brought it on himself," Abigail admitted, "but I still 
feel kind of guilty about it. He did *not* look happy."
    
    She placed her domino at the end of another branching line of 
numbers, without much caring that it would probably hinder her game as 
much has help it. 
    
    Christian however leapt on her move as fast has his ghoul fingers 
allowed him to. "Ah, fin'lly! Tha' double five's been burnin' a hole in 
me pocket for ages!" The he looked up to her as Albert began pondering 
over his turn. "Don' worry about 'im, Abby. Tha' ol' bastard deserves 
most'a what he gets, an' it never seems to hurt 'im too much."
    
    Albert agreed. "Ain't the first time he'll have wrassled a rat, 
either. Back in the day he was a real bruiser, and the years ain't done 
him over too bad."
    
    Both Nigel and Celia seemed less taken with the idea, but theirs 
seemed to be the quiet minority, so they remained as such. 
    
    "Molerats is dangerous," Nigel said, playing both sides of the 
argument, "but at least he can throw in the towel if he gets bit or 
sommut."
    
    "Eh, he ain't gonna let that happen to 'im," Christian shrugged. He 
picked up his bottle of flat cola and took an awkward swig. "He's 
better'n that. He knocked ol' Gabs clean out with one hit, remember?"
    
    Nigel nodded. "Yup, that he did."
    
    Albert blinked, staring at his dominoes. "He did?"
    
    "That he did."
    
    Abigail turned to Celia while the unhealthy men reminisced. "Who's 
Old Gabs?"
    
    "He was onhe of the olhd ghouls," Celia replied. "He died, but he 
whas olhd even befhore the bhombs." 
    
    She smiled sadly to herself, though it looked painful to do so. 
"Heven we die heventually."
    
    "Yup," Nigel agreed, nodding his head, as if it was a sage's 
insight. "But Gabs was a real strong old deader. Nobody'd put him out in 
one before Rathley slugged him."
    
    "Must not have made him too happy, I'd think," Albert agreed.
    
    "If ya've got time to be thinkin' then play a tile already!" 
Christian picked up one of his own pieces and waved it at Albert. "I'd 
'ave time to be growin' a new eyelid before ya've moved!"
    
    "You ain't growing nothin' no time soon you old afro-for-brains."
    
    "Exactly, I ain't, you're bein' so slow!" He sighed and put his tile 
down again as Albert finally played his piece, and now they waited on 
Nigel. "You wantin' us to be down at the rat pen with ya', Abby? I don' 
miss 'em, but these layabouts'd prolly come along too if ya' wanted some 
moral support or somethin'."
    
    Both Albert and Celia nodded, while Nigel was lost in his decision 
making. 
    
    "You don't have to," Abigail said. "I'm only going because Chopper 
wants me too."
    
    "Then mhaybe hyou might nheed some supphort hafter all."
    
    Abigail smiled and shook her head. "Really, she's not that bad. 
Mostly."
    
    That didn't seem to be Celia's concern though. "Hy whill come. Then 
hwe cahn both be rheminded why hwe have to be thankful to what we don't 
like."
    
    "Thankful?" Abigail asked, confused. "For the rat fights?"
    
    Christian gave her a grisly smile. "For us, yeah. If they weren' 
makin' sport outta the rats, who d'ya' think they'd be fightin' 
instead?"

***
    
    Abigail had expected to be the victim of all manner of emotions at 
the side of the rat pen, but jealousy had been one that she *hadn't* 
expected. 
    
    "There are lot of people this time, aren't there?"
    
    Beside her Christian nodded. "Yup. Biggest turnout in years I'd 
reckon, and tha's no small feat!"
    
    "It looks like almost half the town!" was Sharn's quiet exclamation, 
and she wasn't wrong. The rat pen was large but a crowd of almost two 
hundred stood around it, all trying to make sure they had a decent view 
over the shoulders of those in front. Even though they had arrived with 
Rathley they were still several rows back in the wriggling mass.
    
    In fact, having the five ghouls standing with them made the wait 
more comfortable. The rest of the townsfolk weren't too keen on getting 
up close with their green and gory cohabitants. A fact that Albert 
seemed unexpectedly proud of.
    
    "Wouldn't want a smooth-skin comin' away with bits o' me stuck on 
them. I ain't that generous to be givin' away me bits and bobs!"
    
    Kyle, Chopper and Celia were more content not to chat while Nigel 
and Albert started debating the finer points of ghoul etiquette. Chopper 
in particular was keeping her eyes glued to the makeshift betting table, 
where a large proportion of her caps had gone. She hadn't wanted to bet, 
unlike Sharn and Kyle, but she'd had no choice. Rathley wanted to be 
taking winnings away from this fight, and when she had signed him up she 
hadn't banked on having to pay for a share of those winnings herself. 
    
    At least the molerat was getting a majority of the votes, however 
slim it was. Then again, some were betting on Rathley from reputation 
alone. He could, according to some ignorant idiots, take down even a 
Brotherhood of Steel Paladin with nothing but his bare hands. But many 
more people had seen molerat fights before, and going in unarmed was the 
most difficult fight the games offered. Very few people came out intact, 
even those who had thrown in the towel. Molerats were both larger and 
faster than their small, bald cousins, and could do a man damage before 
he could be hauled over the fence to safety.
    
    "ARE YOU READY RAT-FANS?"
    
    The bellow that the announcer got from the mass of fans evidently 
made him a very happy man. They knew what to expect, so he could get on 
with it. 
    
    "We all know our man today! Love him or loath him, the one and only 
Rathley is finally taking on his first rat challenge for ten years!"
    
    The crowd roared as Rathley clambered over the sturdy wood and wire 
fence. All he wore was a grubby white vest, a pair of khaki trousers, 
his boots, and the expression of a truly professional fighter. He raised 
his bare fist and the cheers he got from everyone could be heard from 
one side of town to the other. 
    
    Abigail didn't cheer, and to her surprise nor did Chopper. They were 
the only two people in the entire crowd who were looking for the rat.
    
    "Don' worry none, Abby," Christian beamed. "That ol' fence don' look 
too tough, but even a molerat'd take a good thirty seconds to burrow 
through it. That wire 'n' wood's goin' right under the pen, see? It 
knows not to start diggin' or else the handlers'd start puttin' buckshot 
in it before it could dig out."
    
    Despite his good intentions it didn't make Abigail feel better.
    
    A soon as he could be heard again, the announcer finished. "And we 
know who he's up against, right rat-fans?" Another cheer. "We've had her 
for over a year and no-one's managed to kill her yet, or even claim a 
win! Mean enough to take the name of our old whorehouse madam, we have 
Marge!"
    
    Marge did not show herself right away though. Her handlers hauled 
her up to the side of the pen at the end of three steel poles, and two 
more flanked her with cattle prods in their hands and long barrelled 
shotguns on their backs. A wooden ramp was put into place, and the 
molerat was forced up it until it toppled into the pen with a squeal and 
a huge thump, and the handlers detached their poles from the animal's 
collar. 
    
    It was only then, as the molerat found its feet inside the pen, that 
most of them got a good look at it. Calling the pigrat a 'rat' had been 
pushing it, Abigail had thought. Calling *this* thing a rat, that was 
plain idiocy.
    
    "That's... That's a *bear*!" Abigail exclaimed. "He'll be killed!"
    
    And yet, even as Christian corrected her, Abigail could see the 
differences. It *was* smaller than the brown bears she had seen in her 
vault classes, if only slightly, and its legs looked far less capable of 
running in bounds the way a bear could. But it was a full four feet tall 
at the shoulder, and even though its legs were squat and bowed it still 
ran in fast scampering circles the way the pigrat had done. And while 
covered in rough, wiry brown hair its rodent-like snout was 
unmistakable, complete with huge incisors to match the claws on its 
feet.
    
    Unlike the pigrat this animal obviously knew what was expected of it 
and didn't bother turning back to take a swipe at the handlers' poles or 
at the fence. Instead it stood at the side of the pen and shook itself, 
releasing a cloud of dust from its coarse fur. It let out a short, sharp 
cry in Rathley's direction, which to Abigail sounded like a warning. It 
seemed as though the creature knew the pen was supposed to be its 
territory, and barked out its high pitched warning a few more times, 
edging forward each time and trying to threaten Rathley out of the pen. 
    
    The wastelander didn't budge. He just stood steady as a rock, his 
fingers open and twitching slightly.
    
    Abigail's breath caught in her throat when the molerat finally 
charged, but her little sound was drowned out by the cheers of the 
crowd. Rathley moved only a second later, making sure that he was out of 
the way when the molerat reached his position and slammed itself into 
the wall where he had stood. 
    
    The section of wooden wall cracked and bent outwards as Marge 
slammed shoulder first into it, but the wire held it together even as 
the ripple of the audience pulled back. Rathley made a grab for the 
molerat's side, but the creature was already turning to face him from 
its shoulder-side impact into the pen wall.
    
    This wasn't the kind of fight Abigail had expected, as she watched 
it play out. Rathley couldn't afford to box the creature's nose for fear 
of the teeth and claws that would have reached him first. Similarly, he 
couldn't wrestle the creature from the front or it would have torn him 
open down his sides. What Rathley was trying to do was catch hold if its 
fur and get himself onto the animal's back, safely out of the way of its 
stumpy legs, and then attack its head and sides from there.
    
    But that was no small feat. The molerat turned quickly, and soon 
Rathley's left forearm was pouring blood after he had tried and failed 
in another grab and had to shield himself with his already bandaged arm. 
That was what the crowd wanted to see, and they bayed for more as 
Rathley had to put the distance between himself and the gargantuan rat 
again. 
    
    "He can't really do this, can he?" Abigail asked, unable to take her 
eyes of the spectacle.
    
    "He can," Kyle replied. "If he doesn't take to long about it."
    
    The problem was that Rathley was not as fast on his feet as the rat, 
and was relying on the animal's blind savagery to give him an opening to 
escape or to make a grab. He was also losing blood too rapidly, so he 
would have to finish it quickly or give in. 
    
    "That's not arterial," Chopper commented dryly, "but it looks like 
I'll be wasting more stitches on him soon."
    
    Her unemotional commentary was cut short though, and even she held 
her breath as Rathley finally managed to grip some of the short hair in 
his right hand and pull himself behind the animal and onto its back. He 
had no time to perform his rodeo though, however much the announcer 
called for it. The rat couldn't jump properly, but it tried to rear up 
and shake him off as furiously as it could.
    
    And that had been what Rathley had wanted. The rat was not big 
enough for him to be fully safe on its back, and it caught his shins as 
it scratched away at its sides. However, once it had reared up Rathley 
could put his feet down and push them both forward with all his might. 
The rat, still trying to reach around itself to get him off, was not 
ready for the sudden fall and collapsed onto its belly with Rathley 
still atop it, its forelegs trapped beneath itself. 
    
    After that all Rathley had to do was wrap his good arm around the 
animal's throat and start choking it. Looking on in a mixture of worry 
and relief Abigail thought she understood why; the animal's fur would 
soften any punches he made against its head. 
    
    Not that it stopped him from bringing his blood drenched elbow down 
on its skull as he tried to drive the molerat into unconsciousness. With 
no leverage the molerat could do little more than wriggle and drive 
itself forward with its hind legs. The crowd was cheering now and the 
fight looked won, but that didn't stop Rathley shouting out an expletive 
as the rat finally freed its front left paw and clawed at the arm around 
its neck. 
    
    They were facing away from her, so Abigail couldn't see what it had 
done to him, but the unexpected attack just drove Rathley to pull the 
molerat's head back tighter and bring his elbow down into it again. That 
was enough for the rat, and any more clawing it did was too feeble and 
dopey to cause any more harm. Rathley lay there strangling it for a few 
moments more before staggering up and accepting the cheer of the crowd. 
    
    "I can't believe it guys, girls and ghouls! Marge has finally met 
her match! Rathley may be ten years older, but that's just been ten 
years more fighting practice! Now let's get him a medic, losing that 
finger looked painful!"
    
    Sure enough, as Rathley approached them from the pen Abigail could 
see that his right hand was covered in blood as well, and missing its 
little finger.
    
    "Oh god, Rathley!"
    
    "Sympathy, Sugar? I'm touched."
    
    "Now that," Christian complemented, "that was a proper fight! You've 
gone an' shown 'em how it's done, ya hardy ol' bastard!"
    
    Chopper was much more matter of fact about what was needed. 
"Alright, let's see it, old timer."
    
    Rather than offering her his right hand Rathley swung out his left, 
wincing as he did so, and knocked her out cold. The brief look of shock 
on her face was all she could manage before Kyle and Abigail were forced 
to catch her, and Sharn hid behind them all as Rathley turned to her.
    
    "Hey, it's your fault! You made Abby fight too!" Sharn said 
defiantly, but Rathley just glared at her and turned to Abigail.
    
    "Wake your girlfriend up, Sugar, I need some doctorin'. And get me a 
stimpak, this hurts like a bitch in heat."
    
    Before Abigail could comply the announcer broke through the tumult 
around them. "Rathley may have won folks, but this rat isn't dead yet! 
How are you going to finish her off, Rathley?"
    
    The audience shouted all manner of suggestions, but Rathley 
evidently didn't care one way or the other. "Let her live," he shouted 
back to him. "I'm the only one to beat her so far, so there's a target 
for the rest of you punks!"
    
    "A challenge!" The announcer called as Rathley turned away. "He's 
laid down the gauntlet rat-fans! Who will be the first to try and claim 
his trophy!"
    
    By the side of the pen Rathley ignored both the announcer and the 
back slapping fans. "Fuck trophies," he grumbled, taking a stimpak that 
Kyle offered and sticking it into his bloody hand, "just get me my caps 
and a conscious surgeon."
    
    "You're the one who knocked her out!" Abigail exclaimed in 
incredulity as she woke Chopper up.
    
    Rathley held up his gently numbing hand. "Ask my pinkie if it gives 
a fuck." He was beginning to slur his words.
    
    Then, from Abigail's other side, came Celia's breathy voice. 
"Mhister Rhathley, thank yhou for not khilling it."
    
    Rathley spared her a lazy glance. "Whatever you say."
    
    But his attention shifted back to Chopper as she found her feet 
again. The glared at him, while he looked pleased with himself through 
the pain and fatigue. 
    
    "Now," she asked, "would you like to let me work or would you prefer 
to bleed to death? That stunt has already cost you your anaesthetic."
    
    "You know you like hearing me scream, Marie."
    
    "Don't call me that."
    
    Abigail watched as Chopper led Rathley away to sit down, but paused 
as she thought she also saw Erin slipping away from the edge of the 
crowd. That was something she would have to deal with soon. But not yet, 
she told herself, and she and the ghouls followed Chopper to watch her 
work.

***
    
    Rathley's injuries, though bloody, were not severe by Chopper's 
assessment. Sure, he had lost a little finger and a lot of blood, but 
given a few days, a few stimpaks and new bandages every now and then he 
would bounce back in his own gruff way. 
    
    It came as no surprise to Abigail that, while she and Sharn observed 
the medical process out of desire for knowledge and practical skill, for 
the ghouls it seemed to be a minor talking point that they might have 
discussed over tea. Only natural, she realised, when they spent all day 
every day wearing their own perpetual wounds. 
    
    "Lost a bit have ya'?" Albert laughed. "Now we got somthin' in 
common! Bet that pinkie'll go for a good few caps ta some ol' sticky 
fingered poacher out there."   
    
    Yuck, was Abigail's only reaction. 
    
    But the rat fight, nerve racking though it had been, was not the end 
of her day. She had other business to finish, and she had already 
procrastinated enough with Christian and his friends. 
    
    "Come see us again before ya' leave, Abby," the old ghoul had said. 
"We aught'a say g'bye proper-like."
    
    After all of that, even missing a finger, Rathley was more than 
happy not to sit around and wait to heal up before heading out of Corva, 
and Chopper seemed similarly happy to allow it. So before then some 
apologies still had to be made.
    
    That was why Abigail did not follow her team mates back to their 
inn, or the ghouls back to their games house. Instead she left the 
fighting pens by the path that took her beside the merchant street, and 
past the pockets of more obscure traders and their homes. A fusion 
battery charging service, an ammunition filler, and someone carving dirt 
cheap furniture out of old wasted tree trunks that were lined up beside 
his unassuming looking shop. It was a very eclectic selection, and while 
Abigail couldn't think why, this was the way that Erin had left from the 
rat fight. 
    
    The reason for that was a long time in coming, and Abigail had begun 
to think that she had left it too long before following the girl when 
the outer end of houses could be seen. It was only when she saw a 
gunsmith's shop beyond the end of the market street, hidden a few houses 
deep into the edge of the town, that she realised why Erin might have 
gone that way. 
    
    Sure enough, inside the garishly painted shack of the Carbine Kitten 
Stephanie sat at her work bench, surrounded by defunct or cannibalised 
weaponry. She still wore her frivolous straw hat, and Erin sat on the 
stairs that must have led up to Stephanie's tiny room, perched like an 
oversized outhouse on top of the shop.
    
    They both looked up as she entered, and Abigail's stomach sank when 
Erin could only glare at her and look back down to the floor. Stephanie, 
however, was more hospitable. 
    
    "Hey, Abigail. What can I do for you?"
    
    Straight to the point, Abigail thought. Yeah, she's pissed at me 
too.
    
    "Hi Stephanie," Abigail greeted, trying to mask her unease. "How 
have you been? I think Jassic really likes your gun."
    
    Stephanie gave her a careful look, and seemed undecided. "Good, I 
liked that one too." The tension in the air was far too much for her to 
be able to miss what Abigail was here for though, and she long knew what 
Erin's expression meant. "But I know you're not the shooty type. So, you 
know, if you two want to cut to the fight already you can do it 
upstairs."
    
    Erin stared at Abigail for a moment, waiting to see if the girl 
would just make it easy and leave, before leading the way up.
    
    "And don't touch anything," Stephanie warned. "It's not all been 
deactivated yet."
    
    The upstairs room was just as small inside as it looked from the 
outside, and the metal shelves were stacked floor to ceiling with yet 
more arms and armament. That included several hand grenades hanging 
precariously above the bed.
    
    This girl is nuts, Abigail thought, but then she had known that 
already. Erin didn't seem to mind a bit, and took a seat on the small 
bed in the centre of the room; it was the only space that wasn't taken 
up by shelving. 
    
    Abigail closed the door - was that a land mine hanging on the back 
of it?! - and sat down nervously. 
    
    "You'll forgive me if I'm not really in the mood to be talking to 
you right now," Erin said frankly.
    
    Abigail could believe it. "Look, I just wanted to say I'm sorry, 
okay?" Abigail said, without returning a hint of Erin's confrontational 
tone. "I really am. I didn't plan for it to happen. I mean, I don't even 
like her a lot of the time."
    
    "'Like' and 'Love' are not always mutually inclusive."
    
    Abigail grimaced a little. "Tell me about it."
    
    "But you've fallen for her copious charms none the less."
    
    Abigail nodded in defeat. "Yeah."
    
    Erin closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Well, if it hadn't 
been you, then it would have been someone else. At least you have the 
decency to admit it. I will just have to wait for her to get sick of you 
like she did me before I can try to win back her heart."
    
    She gave Abigail a dark look. "Or do you expect to be exception in 
her line of past girlfriends."
    
    "I don't know, do I?! Erin, I admit it, I now know what you see in 
her, but even so... With the way she talks to you now, does she really 
warrant all that energy? You've been there watching opposite her at the 
rat fights, and waiting around with amoral mercenaries just so you can 
see her come back into town again. Isn't that a bit much?"
    
    Erin just stared at her. "I want to get back the feeling I've lost. 
When she was here it was almost a game: remaining inseparable in spite 
of my father and the Diamonds and those wanting to catch us in the act.
    
    "But being around town, that's not all down to Chopper. I make sure 
I'm there for every one of my father's mission reports, and for every 
birth and every funeral. I know who won every major rat fight or 
shooting contest for the last four years. I know who I could go to for 
finances, protection, weapons, information or emergency labour. I bet I 
could say how many times your friend 'Chris'chun' has been spat on and 
get it right to the nearest half dozen."
    
    "What?" Abigail asked, overwhelmed by all the sudden information. 
"Why? Chopper says you are so coddled you couldn't want for anything!"
    
    A sudden look of betrayal appeared in Erin's eyes. "She doesn't 
think that. She can't." Then she sighed. "No, you're right, the only 
thing I could want is her. But that won't last. Whether it's the 
radiated air or just a bullet, one day my father is going to die, and 
I'm going to be there to take his place. I don't intend to be shoved out 
of the way or snuffed out by an ambitious landlord or businessman. I 
intend to own this town in spirit long before it is mine by inheritance. 
I am obsessive by nature, Abigail, and that is only making it easier to 
learn everything I need to know."
    
    Then she looked down into her hands, the hard edge fading from her 
voice. "And if offering her a town is what it would take to win Chopper 
from you, or from whoever she has found by then, I'm obsessive enough to 
do that too. So I will take her back, Abigail. No matter how long it 
takes."
    
    "But even if I *didn't* care anymore," she added. "I'd still advise 
you not to get too attached. She dropped me suddenly enough, and sooner 
or later she'll probably do the same to you."
    
    Abigail wanted to defend herself after that, but really what was 
there she could say that wouldn't have been a lie? She already knew what 
Chopper was like in her love life, even before experiencing the truly 
attractive aspects of it for herself. "I guess that's that then," she 
sighed, getting to her feet before Erin could add anything. "I will 
consider myself advised, and you needn't worry about ensuring my silence 
or anything either. I'll leave your plans alone. I wouldn't even know 
who would actually want to know what you have in mind anyway."
    
    Erin smirked, and to her surprise she could see a little of Chopper 
in that amused smile. "I was just going to tell you to look after her. 
She might be better than me, but she is still a bad enough fighter to 
need your group to keep her alive out there."
    
    "You aren't worried about your secrets?" Abigail asked, attempting a 
joke. 
    
    Erin shrugged. "Most people will expect me to take over anyway. They 
just don't know how many people already consider me a worth keeping 
around."
    
    Cute, Abigail thought sarcastically as she left. 
    
    Downstairs again and Stephanie looked back up from her tinkering, 
and finally gave Abigail a genuine smile. "Ambitious thing, isn't she?"
    
    "Very. I guess you're on her side already?"
    
    "I was from the very beginning."
    
    "I don't suppose you mean that you might *like* her," Abigail 
ventured.  
    
    "Me? No, sorry, I definitely like my men. So how are you feeling?" 
    
    Oh well, Abigail thought, it was worth a shot. It might have made 
Erin happier. She sighed, and told the truth. "Crappy."
    
    Stephanie gave a look of sympathy, both to Abigail and towards the 
stairway. "Yeah. I guess that makes two of you." 

***
    
    After that, Abigail felt very much in need of a pick-me-up. Erin was 
un-assuaged in her intentions towards Chopper, and if anything Abigail 
had ensured that the girl's desperate affections would remain simmering 
unhealthily beneath the surface while Chopper got this latest 'fling' 
out of her system.
    
    Abigail didn't like that either. Sure, it might not last - enough 
people had been telling her so, including her own sense of insecurity - 
but at least for the moment they did mean something to each other. 
Abigail got the feeling that Chopper's heady affections were there 
precisely *because* the older woman meant something to Abigail.
    
    But she wasn't going to dwell on that. Her apologies and admissions 
hadn't made her feel better, but they had been said and that was all she 
could do. She had tried, and everything else was up to Erin to work out 
for herself. A colder rationale than she liked, but that was that. There 
was someone else who Abigail had mistreated, and while they had cleared 
the air between themselves Abigail did still want to say goodbye 
properly.
    
    And unlike some of the Mercs, she knew where to find Lilis. The 
brothel was a difficult building to miss, and was probably the largest 
structure in the whole town in terms of the ground it covered. It was 
two floors tall, and the front of the upper floor was taken up by a neon 
billboard that Abigail guessed was supposed to be provocative. It 
certainly made an impression surrounded by earthen and scrap-made bars 
and shops, and it was probably the only building in town to have 
electricity. Abigail guessed that was part of the reason why the fusion 
battery re-charger could stay in business.
    
    A couple of prostitutes were looking out of the windows between the 
neon strips, trying to entice passers by and succeeding every now and 
then. Abigail had to admit that they were physically attractive, at 
least compared to the dusty and sun-grizzled majority of Corva's 
population, so they weren't relying on pure brazen immodesty. The 
redhead had taken the trouble to do her hair up in a nice and ornate 
fashion, even though it would probably not survive her next customer.
    
    Enough of that, Abigail decided as soon as she realised she was 
appraising a *brothel* of all things. She was better than that. She 
plucked up her courage and used it to hide her embarrassment as she 
walked over and in through the open and pockmarked double doors.
    
    "Well now, if it isn't Miss Iseley!" exclaimed the old woman from 
behind the main desk. "You don't *look* as strong as they've been 
saying... but, if you took down the terrible Heart mutant we can't be 
arguing with that, can we, Stanley?"
    
    The large, half dressed man beside her desk cocked his eyebrow at 
Abigail. "I guess not, Marge. You know how the small ones get 
energetic."
    
    Abigail had been expecting a fat, matronly type, but it seemed like 
the madam of the brothel was a skinny and wrinkled old girl fast 
approaching her centennial. Her amazingly heavy tan only worked against 
her as well, and Abigail hoped that it was just the sun she had been 
soaking up.
    
    "Uh, right. Look, I'm here to... umm, could I speak to Lilis quickly 
please?"
    
    Marge's ancient and wrinkled eyebrows made a break for her silver 
hairline. "Lilis, is it? My my, well I guess you do look strange enough 
in all that black, right to the glasses. Always the ones you wouldn't 
expect. Who referred you?"
    
    "Referred?" Abigail blinked, and wondered just what the old woman 
was implying. "I, uh, I don't want to sleep with her or anything, just 
say thanks for helping us out there."
    
    Marge frowned and crossed her hand in her lap. "You come into my 
whorehouse and you *don't* want sex? What's wrong with you girl!? I'm 
not going to be having you waste my time - and my time is very expensive 
where our most exclusive girl is concerned! - just to chat about the 
moonlighting she does for the mayor!"
    
    "But..!"
    
    "No ifs!" Marge snapped, shooing her away. "And no butts for you or 
anyone else without paying for them, and for the stud or sexpot they're 
attached to! Now go on, unless you're wanting the best shag of your life 
you have no business being here! You shouldn't even know to ask for her 
by name unless you're a potential customer! Stanley, escort her out."
    
    And that was that. The fit, muscular man took Abigail by the arm and 
marched her from the building as gently as Abigail's futile protesting 
would allow. In the back of her mind she wondered what he could eat in 
the desert town to maintain that kind of body, because so far the 
strongest people Abigail had seen were those with more bulk to them.
    
    Abigail stood flabbergasted for a moment, barely able to believe 
that she had just been thrown out for wanting a few minutes of someone's 
time, but evidently naming Rathley's molerat after her had been very 
apt.
    
    Stanley let go of her arm, and gave her a much more friendly smile, 
holding out his open hand. "If you like, I could pass on your message. 
My time isn't quite as pricy as the madam's."
    
    Abigail looked at him a moment, before digging into her jacket 
pockets to see what spoils she still had in them after the battle with 
the Hearts. Most of it had been packed away in her travelling bag, but 
there were still a few things she had wanted to keep on her, and a few 
she hadn't wanted the others to see. 
    
    She did have a handful of bottle caps nestled in there, for use as 
small change. She still had little real idea what they were worth, 
besides their use for sweetening a trade, but she offered them to him 
none the less. He took five and slipped them into the waistband of his 
shorts, leaving Abigail the rest. She looked at him steadily, and told 
him what he should pass on.
    
    "Head around the back and you'll get your reply."
    
    Abigail did so, though not quite knowing why she would need a reply 
- it was as if he thought she wouldn't trust him without confirmation - 
and a minute later the reply came in the form of an empty half bottle of 
whiskey that almost fell on her head. Abigail looked up, but the thrower 
had already retreated back into the room, hurriedly closing the wooden 
shutters again.
    
    Abigail took the bottle, and gently pulled out the note that was 
lodged in its neck.
    
    'You are welcome.'
    
    Abigail left the seedy district with a smile that she had not been 
wearing ten minutes before.

***
    
    One perk of her new relationship, Abigail thought in her sleepy 
satisfied haze, was that it made sharing a bed at the inn much less 
awkward. There was no need to worry about where she kept her legs now 
that she was cuddled up against Chopper's comfortable side. Right then 
her legs were happily wrapped around her lover's thigh, while the hand 
that wasn't trapped between them wandered in circles over Chopper's not-
so-flat but pleasantly soft stomach, making a wandering bulge in the bed 
sheets.
    
    "Chopper?"
    
    The woman looked down into the eyes that stared up at her from the 
edge of the sheet. For once it was them that were visible, while the 
lower half of her face was hidden instead. "Yes?"
    
    "This is about more than just the sex to you, isn't it?"
    
    Chopper stifled a laugh. "You're not bored of it already are you?" 
She leaned over to tickle Abigail's side, and gave the girl's ear a 
little nibble. That never failed to make Abigail giggle in the most 
unlikely and girlish way, and it had the desired effect once again.
    
    "Hey, stop that!" She writhed a little, her voice muffled as Chopper 
'inadvertently' smothered her with her chest. "No foreplay when I'm 
trying to fish for compliments!"
    
    "Then what if I said," Chopper breathed as she continued nibbling 
around Abigail's ear, "that you are so pretty, so quaint and move so 
damn beautifully that I'd have tied you to the bed then and there when 
you first asked if I was queer, if you hadn't been so quick to shoot me 
down."
    
    "I'd say you're still talking about sex!" But Abigail did stop 
resisting, and instead turned to Chopper so that she could kiss her 
properly. She was already blushing scarlet, and the kiss only darkened 
the shade. "But I guess Jaqueline was right. Fishing for compliments 
does work after all!"
    
    Chopper smiled, and pulled their hips together out of wanton 
mischief making. "Who's Jaqueline?"
    
    Abigail returned the smile and kissed her again, gently pulling them 
apart again. It wasn't the time for that kind of playfulness when she 
was feeling so nostalgic behind the heat in her face. "Just a friend. 
From before."
    
    Chopper took the hint and backed down a little, simply tracing her 
short nails across Abigail's hips. "So why did you ask? I suppose Erin 
said something?"
    
    "I just want to hear it from you," Abigail admitted. "I know I'm 
just your latest girlfriend, but I'd still like to know. You mean 
something special to me, you know. You are my first, and you were there 
when I really needed you."
    
    Chopper seemed to wonder at that. "If all I wanted was good sex, I'd 
buy it. I could afford the best queer prostitutes in town these days."
    
    Abigail frowned, and looked down between them under the sheets. "... 
Don't say something like that when you're supposed to be holding me." 
    
    Chopper ignored her and held her closer. "I'd rather have someone 
who can learn and explore, and who wants *me* to explore *them*. I want 
someone who might actually give a damn that I want to find every little 
thing that turns them on, and what brings them the most pleasure. 
Someone who makes me *want* to please them."
    
    She pulled Abigail closer again, and her breathy whisper returned. 
"And you do that. If you didn't care then I wouldn't be bothering, but 
you do. And that makes me want to please you..." she laid a kiss on 
Abigail's cheek.
    
    "In every..." a hand stroked down Abigail's scarred back.
    
    "Way..." another kiss on her neck.

    "Possible."
    
    It had been too long in coming for Abigail when Chopper finally 
slipped a thigh between Abigail's own. Her heart had been set racing and 
her hot blush had returned with a vengeance. She pressed herself into 
the older woman's body, driven by the desire to kiss her or else combust 
right there and then. Chopper's words hadn't even made much sense to 
her, or given any real answer, but they were loving and earnest and 
passionate and that was all that mattered right then.
    
    "Oh god, how did I manage to fall in love with someone like you?"
    
    Hearing herself say it only made her heart beat more strongly in her 
chest. Even though she had already spent three nights in Chopper's arms, 
she had not admitted it to her until now.
    
    "Who knows?" Chopper beamed with that rakish smile of hers as she 
climbed on top, and they began in earnest for the second time that 
night. 
    
    "Who cares?"

***
    
    When morning came the first Abigail knew of it was the unpleasant 
sensation of Chopper leaving to join the rest of the vertical world. It 
was still dark beyond her eyelids, but Abigail knew that would be 
changing soon and she groaned, pulling the thick covers over her head.
    
    "We're heading out soon, Abby," came Chopper's muffled voice. "Are 
you planning on sleepwalking out of here?"
    
    "It's still early," Abigail protested, her brain foggy and non-
cooperative.
    
    "Not according to the sun," Chopper replied, and Abigail heard the 
shutters opening up. "We're not going to wait for you to see your ghoul 
friends just because you can't get up in the mornings."
    
    "Well opening the window isn't going to make me want to! I haven't 
got my sunglasses!"
    
    Then she felt the sheets being thrown back and the pair of shades 
were placed smartly in her hand. "Either put them on or I'm getting 
undressed again, and then you definitely won't have time to say your 
goodbyes."
    
    "... What kind of choice is that? You're mean."

***
    
    Despite the disappointingly short delay Abigail did manage to visit 
the ghoul quarter with a few minutes to spare. Quite a few of the ghouls 
had crowded into the 'Seven Feet Under' Clubhouse, more than Abigail had 
seen even at the sending off gathering before she had gone off to battle 
the super mutant. 
    
    As she greeted many more of these half-dead but kindly people it 
struck her how surreal and how terrifying her life now would have looked 
had she been told of it before leaving Vault 42. Getting involved in 
lethal gunfights with wholly immoral surface gangs and making friends 
with the still living victims of the war would have sounded have sounded 
like something from a comic book nightmare. 
    
    And there she was, drinking her grandmother's favourite Nuka Cola 
with Christian, Celia, Albert and their friends and thinking herself 
fortunate to have had the chance to meet them at all. 
    
    "Soo, will wee see youu agaain Abbyy?" Mona finally asked when 
Abigail's companions appeared to collect her.
    
    Many gory heads nodded in agreement. "Hy hope yhou whill come 
bhack," Celia said. "Whee whill miss yhour company here."
    
    "Don' start layin' it on all thick like, ladies" Christian chastised 
them. "Abby ain' gotta stick aroun', she's got places ta go. Gotta see 
the wastes with your own two eyes, eh girl? Getting' out there an doin' 
some good jus' like ya did for us mangy lot."
    
    "Who you calling mangy?" case an indignant voice from the bar area, 
but that just made the rest of them laugh, which turned into a 
collective coughing fit. 
    
    "Don' interrupt me when I'm sendin' our smoothskin off!" Christian 
shouted back amidst the coughing, but Abigail just laughed with them.
    
    "Don't worry," Abigail said, "I'll come back. I have friends here, 
right?"
    
    "Right," Christian agreed, giving her a wide, five toothed grin. "Go 
on now, your folks are a'waitin' for ya."
    
    Abigail did as she was told, but before she could leave Celia called 
after her. In her single hand she held a holotape. The casing was 
cracked and rusted, but the interface side looked undamaged enough to be 
readable.
    
    "Habigail, plhease take this." She handed her the tape. 
    
    "This whas my bahckup tape. I lhost my Pihpboy, but mhost of my 
rhecords and mhaps are here."
    
    Abigail looked at the holotape in shock. Celia had once had a 
PipBoy? No wonder she seemed younger than the other ghouls. Her family 
had also taken refuge in a vault somewhere. But why had she left? So how 
had she become a ghoul after the war? Why would she give Abigail 
something so personal as what amounted to her diaries? How had she lost 
her Pipboy?
    
    She looked to the bare, bony stump of Celia's right elbow. That was 
probably how. She had so many questions for the ghoul woman, but found 
her throat too dry to ask them. 
    
    Celia must have sensed at least at least some of her questions. "Whe 
are sahfe here. Hy have no nheed of it nhow, lhike Halbert has no nheed 
of his ghun."
    
    "But your memories..?"
    
    "Hy have plhenty of mhemorhies of my hown, these dhays. Hy don't 
nheed rheminders of a lhife I have outlhived, bhut hyou might fhind them 
huseful."
    
    Abigail had always told herself that she was not one to cry at 
partings or funerals, but right then she knew here eyes were growing 
wet. She would not have wanted to part with her PipBoy and her diaries 
for anything in the world, and Celia had given hers so freely, even if 
the data was only a copy.
    
    "Thank you. I promise I'll look after it."
    
    From the door Rathley called, sounding impatient. Or if Abigail was 
lucky it was the pain in his bandaged hand. "You comin' Sugar? Noon's 
gonna catch us up already."
    
    "Alright!" Abigail said, if only to keep him quiet for another 
moment.
    
    "Thanks, everyone," she said in genuine appreciation. "I'll make 
sure to visit when I come back to Corva."
    
    "We'll be waitin'" Albert said, as they waved her off. "Ain't 
nothing else to do around here!"

***
    
    Outside, once Abigail had joined them, the quintet made their way 
back towards the rest of town.
    
    "Ready now?" Chopper asked.
    
    "Yeah. Sharn, did you get to see Kirren at all?"
    
    Sharn nodded. "She wasn't in the mood for company, but she was okay. 
I told her you were worried."
    
    "And did some trading too," Abigail added for her, noting that the 
rifle sticking out of her pack was not the same string and tape bound 
affair that she had used up until now.
    
    Sharn didn't deny it. "She said she wasn't going to be hiring on for 
Merc jobs. I doubt she would have parted with it if she's been lying. 
She might have been down, but she didn't cheat herself either. It's a 
pricy gun." 
    
    "I hope she'll be okay."
    
    "She will," Kyle reassured her. "She's a pro."
    
    Abigail sighed and nodded, happy to believe it. "So, where are we 
actually heading?"
    
    "Probably to make the most of Rathley's list," Sharn grumbled.
    
    Though it was accurate enough, Chopper corrected her. "Anywhere that 
isn't here. We'd rather not be in Corva if and when the Hearts decide to 
follow up on losing that little camp we took out."
    
    "Getting caught up in that kind of thing is either pointless or 
dangerous, neither option with anything else to recommend it," Kyle 
said.
    
    "Anyway," Chopper added flippantly, "there's an awful lot of nothing 
out there, so villages in the Mid Waste tend to be very varied. It'll be 
a good learning experience for you."
    
    "Right. So we're running just for the sake of it."
    
    "*Explorin'*, just for the sake of it," Rathley corrected her. 
"We're Scavs, it's what we do. Find shit, sell it, kick back live it up 
'til next time. Most towns have people wantin' to buy cool junk, or find 
more of the stuff they're runnin' out of. If we can find some town wreck 
or wasted caravan first, we get the pick of the loot."
    
    He shrugged. "Just as well we don't need the caps though, because 
there's no caravans headin' out for the next three days. Most took the 
opportunity to go early and got the Mayor's messengers to play guard at 
the same time."
    
    Abigail looked at him, a thought having struck her. "You mean we're 
going to *walk* to the next town? It took days to get to the Diamond's 
fortress even *with* the brahmin pulling us!"
    
    "Suck it up Sugar, we don't take guard duty too often. Nothin' to 
find on their routes." Rathley turned to the others. "I was thinkin' of 
Micasa, and takin' a north-ish route. We've done the Line up that way, 
but not further out."
    
    "It's pretty barren up there," Sharn said, sounding unsure. "Worse 
than just empty desert."
    
    Rathley agreed. "There's probably nothin', but there's also less 
fuckin' wildlife nearer the Line. After that super mutant, I could do 
with an easy run."
    
    Kyle chuckled. "You know you've jinxed it now. We'll probably run 
into that *real* deathclaw of yours this time!"
    
    Abigail sighed at the thought, and the unintended jab she felt from 
hearing her old and hated nick-name. "Please don't say that."
    
    "We'll be fine!" Sharn said, bringing in a more level and reassuring 
atmosphere. "Really, it's fine Abby-girl. We walk most everywhere unless 
there's a reason not to. We'll have some fun, you'll see."
    
    "And since we have the caps," Chopper added, "let's actually buy 
some provisions this time. No wildlife means less hunting, and the less 
we have to resort to root gruel the better."
    
    Sharn gave her a sideways glance. "Especially since you'd have to 
chip in and help cook then."
    
    Abigail decided not to see whether Chopper would take the bait for 
fun. "Well I've had enough root paste to last me a lifetime, so let's 
get some food. As long as it's not that dry stuff in packets."
    
    "It's better than those nasty water-noodles," Rathley replied. 
Evidently he liked the coarse, bready instant meals. "Especially if 
there's no water to cook 'em with.
    
    "So we'll buy something else," Abigail justified. "I can cook as 
well you know, if I have anything to cook with."
    
    "Then lead on," Chopper grinned. "Just don't buy us anything 
poisonous for dinner."
    
    "... Okay, you show me what I can cook, *then* I'll try cooking it. 
You'll help the first time, right?"
    
    "You were the one who offered."
    
    "Huh? Oh fine, don't give me an excuse to spend time with you! Sharn 
will help me, won't you, Sharn?"
    
    Sharn nodded, amused by Chopper's sudden change in expression. What 
had been a teasing smile now showed a woman who knew she had shot 
herself in the proverbial foot. "Sure. Let's find something expensive to 
make!"
    
    As they walked ahead Kyle smiled next to Chopper. "I think you 
picked the wrong answer."
    
    "Yes, thanks for noticing."
    
***

To be continued...

***

Author's Note: 

    Well, this marks the end of the 'first arc' of this story. The first 
thing I will say is that this is NOT the end of the story, but at the 
same time I have now written a book's worth on a project that was 
originally intended to be an idle story I could keep coming back to when 
I got stuck on my other writing projects, hence its length and openness 
for further developments. 
    Since this is the end of the first major plotline it's as good a 
place as any to start using it that way. As such I hope anyone reading 
will forgive me, but future updates will now be even fewer and further 
between, and I can't promise any kind of regularity.
    It is NOT being dropped though. After the Vault has become a very 
important project for me, and there is still a lot that I intend to do 
with it, both in longer story arcs (though maybe 100,000 words long 
again for a while!) and in shorter encounters. I'll just be doing it in 
the background, behind whatever project I have going at the time. It may 
be a while, but keep your eyes open for more every now and then, or just 
sign up to the Story/Author Alert feature on fanfiction.net if that 
seems like too much hard work!
    Thanks to everyone who has read this far, especially those who have 
sent feedback or left reviews. The next chapter will appear sooner or 
later.

Please send any comments and constructive criticism to:

nutzoide@nutzoide.net

They are always greatly appreciated, and there is no better reward for a 
writer than to hear back from the readers.

Many thanks to Richard King for his proofreading assistance.

(c) Nutzoide 2009

http://www.nutzoide.net