That was the thing about Wanderer. Nothing ever died. Not her father, not Dogmeat. Not history. She had this insatiable urge to know everything there was to know about anything. It reminded him of his wife, the school teacher, and he smiled every time he pried a book from her hands after she fell asleep.
But there were things that were better left unsaid, and she never had the good sense to leave them alone.
Of course she jumped at the chance when Doc Barrows offered it. After researching feral ghouls for so long, and making little headway, he decided to study genealogy. Naturally, Wanderer begged for the chance to be his first subject.
“Tell me some good news, Doc,” she says, leaning over his clipboard. He ‘harrumphs’ and thumps her nose. Rubbing it, and giving Charon a sly grin, she asks, “So who am I related to? Famous pre-war movie stars? Presidents of the former United States?” Barrows waves a hand dismissively.
“Nothing so glamorous,” he answers. “I was able to trace your ancestry on your father’s side as far back as when the bombs dropped.” She lets out a low whistle.
“Impressive. Who is it?”
“A woman who managed to survive ground zero.”
“At least we know where you get your damn tenacity,” Charon says, fondly ruffling her hair.
“She kept extensive records, as did your father. Diaries and the like. I wouldn’t have found anything if it weren’t for those. She and her child were among Megaton’s first citizens, all vying for the chance to get in Vault 101 where you, coincidentally, grew up.”
“Life’s crazy like that,” Wanderer says. “What was her name?”
“Charlotte Grey,” Barrows answers, and Charon feels his blood run cold. It couldn’t be. “Before the bombs fell, she was a school teacher. Married to a sergeant, Samson Grey.”
That’s a name he hadn’t heard in a while. He thought he would never hear it again. Hell, he’d almost forgotten it over the years. Almost convinced himself that he had always been Charon, and never had any other name.
“A sergeant, huh? Did you know him, Charon?” she asks innocently. His stomach churns.
“Yeah,” he answers softly. “He was a selfish bastard. Reckless. But he always tried to do the right thing.” His hand ghosts over hers, and he grasps it, fighting down the horrid feeling of dread. “He would have loved you.”
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timeasmymeasure
Take it Further 1c/2
Date: 2012-01-18 05:09 pm (UTC)That was the thing about Wanderer. Nothing ever died. Not her father, not Dogmeat. Not history. She had this insatiable urge to know everything there was to know about anything. It reminded him of his wife, the school teacher, and he smiled every time he pried a book from her hands after she fell asleep.
But there were things that were better left unsaid, and she never had the good sense to leave them alone.
Of course she jumped at the chance when Doc Barrows offered it. After researching feral ghouls for so long, and making little headway, he decided to study genealogy. Naturally, Wanderer begged for the chance to be his first subject.
“Tell me some good news, Doc,” she says, leaning over his clipboard. He ‘harrumphs’ and thumps her nose. Rubbing it, and giving Charon a sly grin, she asks, “So who am I related to? Famous pre-war movie stars? Presidents of the former United States?” Barrows waves a hand dismissively.
“Nothing so glamorous,” he answers. “I was able to trace your ancestry on your father’s side as far back as when the bombs dropped.” She lets out a low whistle.
“Impressive. Who is it?”
“A woman who managed to survive ground zero.”
“At least we know where you get your damn tenacity,” Charon says, fondly ruffling her hair.
“She kept extensive records, as did your father. Diaries and the like. I wouldn’t have found anything if it weren’t for those. She and her child were among Megaton’s first citizens, all vying for the chance to get in Vault 101 where you, coincidentally, grew up.”
“Life’s crazy like that,” Wanderer says. “What was her name?”
“Charlotte Grey,” Barrows answers, and Charon feels his blood run cold. It couldn’t be. “Before the bombs fell, she was a school teacher. Married to a sergeant, Samson Grey.”
That’s a name he hadn’t heard in a while. He thought he would never hear it again. Hell, he’d almost forgotten it over the years. Almost convinced himself that he had always been Charon, and never had any other name.
“A sergeant, huh? Did you know him, Charon?” she asks innocently. His stomach churns.
“Yeah,” he answers softly. “He was a selfish bastard. Reckless. But he always tried to do the right thing.” His hand ghosts over hers, and he grasps it, fighting down the horrid feeling of dread. “He would have loved you.”