Note: I do not own Bethesda or any of its affiliates. Consider this a disclaimer for the characters/ideas presented in this story.

All right, the jig is up. I based this story out of all the NPC conversations and interactions that range from "Oh, they say that all the time," to "OMG WHAT?" which you can view and giggle over on the Gob or Nova page in the Fallout wiki.

Thanks again to Dee Troit for being my beta, and thanks to those of you who read this story. I hope you enjoyed it.

Chapter Twelve

"Are you awake yet?" he asked.

"Um-hm."

"Should we go get the bar ready?"

"Nn-nn."

I was pretty comfy where I was, and I wasn't about to get up so that I could let a bunch of drunkards ruin my day. I wanted to stay right where I was, because it was actually pretty nice to just rest my head on Gob's chest. He was pleasantly warm, and actually pretty cushy. I smiled a bit when I thought that, and I nestled in closer to him.

"'Cause, you know, it's maybe eight thirty or so. Jericho'll be here soon."

"Exactly. Soon." I turned my head up to look at him, and he looked down at me. "Am I that repulsive that you want so badly to get away from me?" I teased.

He squirmed under me. "No," he said shyly.

"Then let's relax," I said, laying my head back down. "Besides, even if he is here, Jericho can wait outside. Maybe we'll get Moira to make him a key. What do you think about that?"

"Oh," he mumbled dishearteningly, and I giggled against him.

"Yeah, maybe not."

We finally got up twenty minutes later after mindless chatter, then went down to the bar to open her up. Jericho wasn't there yet (which figures; he's never been the punctual type) and there was no line-up for whiskey and Nuka-Colas, so we took our time setting up the place. It felt weird watching Gob do his routine, knowing that nobody was watching over his shoulder, waiting for him to make a mistake. I think we both felt a little uneasy about it, like we were walking on glass with bare feet, even though it was the exact opposite. But once we got through it, I doubted either of us minded the feeling. Sorry, Colin.

No-one had come by nine-thirty. Not even Jericho. Oh well, figured nobody would be blowing fire out of their ass just to come sit at our bar, knowing full well the reputation we had for collecting bodies. They'd come back soon enough. But as Gob drummed his fingers on the counter, I knew he was anxious to get things rolling, just so he wouldn't have to feel nervous anymore.

"Gob, why don't you go to Moira's and see her about that sign?" I suggested. "I'm sure she's got the parts together by now."

"Yeah, sure," he said, but it didn't really sound like he was keen on the idea. Better to get him out of the bar than keep him stewing in it, I supposed. Hopefully by the time he got back, we'd have customers to care for, instead of thinking on ghosts we didn't need to be.

Gob went into the back office and took a big satchel full of caps. When he passed me he stopped, then gave me this look that was almost puppy-eyed. I laughed at him playfully before I stood up and kissed him on the cheek. "You big ol' sop, get back to work."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, mocking a salute, then headed out the door. I watched him go, then sat myself down on the stool again. I was pretty sure he'd be gone for a while, and I groaned at the idea of watching the rust collect on the walls while waiting for him to come back. So I flipped on the radio, just like he would've done, and listened to the static. It had been at least a month now. I wondered when they'd get the signal back on.

I could faintly hear Billie Holiday underneath all the fuzz, and I hummed along, watching the old relic with a bit of boredom, like I was hoping it'd grow two legs and dance around for me. Just then, the door opened, and I turned on my stool, putting on a grin.

"Hey, welcome to Gob's, we—"

A Wastelander walked through the door. Well, he was a Wastelander now, from the looks of him. He was covered in spatters of blood and dirt, and he was more haggard looking than I ever imagined him to be.

"Nova," he whispered roughly.

Not the god I thought he used to be. Just a ruined Wastelander, like everyone else.

"My God," I muttered, standing up off my stool. "The hell are you doing here?"

"I need someone to talk to," he said weakly, as if his voice was strained from hours of crying. I scoffed, ignoring it.

"How the fuck did you come in the front gates without being shot?" I snapped. "There are a lot of people who'd be willing to see your head on a plate, you know."

"I know."

I opened my mouth to keep drilling at him, but I stopped. You're here to finish the job, huh? Well, here I am! Blow me apart like you did Colin, you fuck! The words came out as a whoosh of air. I was too stunned to attack him. Despite what he'd done, I was still a little soft for him. And seeing him broken down like he was... I was a little freaked out. Either he was here to kill me, or he'd been through Hell enough times to be worn paper thin and want to come here to...

"Talk?"

"Yes. Please."

I'd never have expected that. "What makes you think I'll give you the time?" I forced back, trying to growl at him but failing. "The shit you've done here?"

He reached for his belt, still looking at me, and pulled out a handful of caps from his bag.

"I don't want your caps," I said angrily, "I want you out."

"Nova," he said so softly, it was almost silent. His voice trembled as he said: "Do this one last thing for me. Please."

I'd heard the sound of men's voices at their wit's end—even Jericho had been close to tears around me once or twice. All of them depressed about the state of the world, their place in it, contemplating suicide, or murder, or both. But what I heard in that kid's voice was something that went beyond all that. It scared me.

We stared at each other for too long, him breaking me down with his weak, watery, blue-eyed gaze. I gave in.

"All right."

"In the room?"

"I don't do that anymore, honey."

"I know. I just... not where someone can walk in on us."

I wanted to chew him out and spit him up some more, but all I could manage was a nod. "Okay," I muttered after a few seconds.

We both stood still, watching each other. I was stuck between expecting him to make a move and kill me and being so... pathetic looking. I suddenly realized that whatever it was that had made him come all the way back down to Megaton to simply just talk to me must've been worth my time. I almost felt sorry for him.

I was the first one to move towards the stairs, and he waited until I was on the first step to follow me. Each step I took I did slowly, like I was expecting it to be my last before—BANG—there goes my head. But he didn't shoot at me, and my head didn't explode. He kept climbing up after me, and when I got to the door of the room, I stood aside, letting him go in first. His head was low and his body hung like it weighed too much for him to carry anymore; if he tripped and fell he'd break apart into a million pieces.

When he got into the room, I followed him in and closed the door. I turned to see him sink down onto the bed, still hung heavy like a ruined rag-doll. I moved to sit next to him hesitantly, still weirded out by the whole situation, by my problem deciding whether or not to go alert the town or sit there and console the poor bastard murdering cocksucker—

"The night I..." he trailed off. He didn't need to clarify what night he was talking about. "Butch was shot. I don't know if it was me or Jericho... but it was probably me."

He slipped his gloves off and reached up to rub his face. His hands were shaking. "Butch collapsed somewhere between Megaton and the vault. I was chasing after him, ready to kill— until I realized he was already dying—"

His voice broke on the last word, but he hissed sharply, forcing himself not to crumble, or whatever it was he was going to do. I watched him closely, still trying to read the situation, still trying to figure out just what the fuck was going on and what it is John was really plotting.

"I've killed a lot of people," he said, letting his hands slide off his face, "but I've never seen them... die before."

I watched him, seeing how his blank expression was really his reaction to life punching him in the face. "When I went to kill him, I saw him. We were enemies our whole lives, and I'd never really knew him before. He told me that I had to go back, and he did it clutching at me desperately, like I was his only hope in the world, and I... it made me start to realize something."

He stayed quiet, but I didn't dare say anything. I didn't even want to ask him what; I decided just to listen.

"It started to go downhill with that woman who was kept in Simms's house," he said. "I went to see her, ask her questions about who she was and what she was doing—trying to learn more about the Wasteland, you see. She told me she wouldn't talk until I gave her some Psycho, so... I gave her more than she needed, and she died before I learned anything. I left her, deciding I would play her death like I did the others—it was all a game to me, everything was just a suspension of reality. When I left the vault, I went into my own fantasy world where nothing had consequences, and I...."

"So, what stories were true then?" I interjected. "You the one who took down Paradise Falls single-handedly?"

"Paradise Falls," he started with a dry laugh. "They were all bad people, but they got theirs. Some people thought it was me. I suppose it was partly true, but no-one would have known that. I only opened the doors for someone else to get their revenge, and all of them... I was almost proud of it.

"I was such a child," he hissed sharply. "I never once felt any remorse or responsibility for my actions; I was untouchable, I was a god—above everyone else—and I could do with my world what I wanted. Yes, a lot of rumours started to spread about me—including that one. Some were true, some false. I was becoming a legend, and it didn't matter if I'd committed the act—I fed off of it."

He turned to me, and I could see there were tears in his eyes. I felt like I'd been snared by barbed wire then, trapped and doomed. He freaked me out. "Going back to Vault 101 made me realize what had happened to me, how easily I let myself go. Because, even with my sterling reputation with heroism—or lack thereof—" his voice started to shake, "I wasn't able to save any of them. Not even Amata."

I finally started to understand the situation, and a little gasp ran past my lips. "A lot of them died because of me, and I've never really realized until now just how much I fucked up for everyone here. All because I'd spent my life trying so hard to be the antithesis of what my father was.

"And Nova, after all that's happened, you're the closest thing to a friend anymore, and you're the only person that I can confess to. That won't clear my slate, clean my hands... but I can't go on without saying I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

This was the last thing on my list of Expected Events Today, and I was far too shocked to say anything to him. My jaw worked as I tried to think of something to tell him, but I couldn't think of anything. He was still watching me, and I couldn't tell if he expected me to say something, needed me to say something, wanted me to say something, or if he was actually considering murdering me to add my name to his little list, too.

"John...?"

He laughed a little, looking me over with a watered-down grin. "I suppose we've never been properly introduced. It's a bad habit of mine not to leave my name; I'm so used to everyone knowing me, I suppose—small-knit community in the vault." He held a hand out to me. "Adam."

"Adam," I said, thinking it sounded strange. Too normal, too human. I looked at his hand, then took it a little awkwardly.

"Nice to meet you," he muttered, trying to sound cheerful. I flashed a little amused grin before it disappeared just as quickly. I was still trying to sort out everything he was telling me, let alone the fact that he was here pouring his heart out to me. I let go of his hand and watched him. He turned away from me.

"The people wanting to leave the vault and the older ones wishing to maintain order and discipline pitted themselves against each other, and when thing became too uncertain between the small war, the Overseer instructed an attack against the rebels. Amata was leading them. And she... was the only person I cared about my entire life. When I found out they'd killed her, I found out just what kind of person I'd become without her. I realized that Butch was right: I was at fault for their misfortune, along with the Wasteland's blunders that I was involved in. I... to say this bluntly, I fucked up.

"I'm going to go after my father, see if he's still alive somewhere," he said, nodding to himself, affirming it. "And I won't ever come back here, Nova. I won't ever see you again. I promise."

Part of me wanted to be a little comforting to him—that was probably my old career habits kicking in. But I somehow knew that would be against the point he was trying to make. He didn't want sympathy. "How do you think you'll get out of here without being seen? Someone's bound to shoot you down as you go."

"I know. Which is why I intend to leave the way I came in."

He pulled this thing from his belt, which I hadn't realized he was wearing before, and he attached it to his wrist. I looked at it, then looked at him, trying to figure out just what the hell he was doing (a watch is gonna save you?) when he pressed something, then looked to me.

"Thank you, Nova. It was a pleasure."

Then he disappeared.

"Holy shit!" I shouted, jumping up off the bed. I watched the spot where he was, absorbing the fact that he'd just went up into nothing right in front of me, when I saw a little bit of movement. The bed shifted up from where he was sitting, and then I heard his footsteps across the floor. The door opened, and then it closed.

I watched the door for a little while, piecing every little thing together, letting it click into place. And the funny thing? I woke up that morning hating John—Adam, I mean—in the very back of my mind, and after he'd come and told me a story of all the reasons why I hated him, I found that I couldn't despise the guy anymore. It felt weird. I tried to hate him, but it didn't work out that way.

When I went back downstairs, Jericho was standing there, arms crossed over his chest. "What the fuck were you doing up there?"

I stared at him, dumbstruck, then shook my head. "I was looking for something."

"Well, at least no assholes came in looking for a drink. I don't pour drinks, I just drink 'em. Oh, speaking of drinks, you mind if I have a bit of whiskey here and there during my shifts? I could use a pick-me-up. You know, numb the pain in the shoulder."

"Sure, whatever, Jericho." I was still dazed and confused from the entire encounter with the kid that I couldn't really keep up with, so I probably sounded ditsy and far-off to Jericho. I probably didn't even fully register what he'd said.

I glanced at the front door of the saloon, wondering where he'd gone, while I moved to the bar to turn the radio off.

I never saw him again. No-one in Megaton did. And, to be honest, I kind of regret it. I would have wanted to thank him.

Moira and I put up the new sign after I went to meet her. It took us the better part of an hour, five hundred caps, and a promise that I'd come over to her shop so that she could poke and prod me for a while to do some experiments. I agreed under the condition that none of her experiments would dismember me or screw up more of what was already screwed up, and she agreed. She sounded a little disappointed, though.

Gob's Saloon. I stared at the thing for what seemed like hours, still not believing it all. It looked a little shabby, but Moira said she'd patch it up later, once she found some better parts. It didn't matter how run-down the sign was, because it was mine, and this really was happening. My saloon. Of all the things on my list that I'd never consider happening in my sorry lifetime, this was at the top.

We had one customer the entire day. It was a little disappointing, but a little relaxing at the same time. We'd never had so much free time to just screw around and talk. The three of us, even. Jericho didn't once make a remark about me being a zombie or how he'd like to pummel my face in, and I suppose it was because he realized I was sort of his boss now. I knew he'd never admit it, he'd always hold that title for Nova and Nova alone, but I was okay with that. We all knew deep down that I could fire him, and I had a high off of that idea for a really, really long time.

In the evening, Leo and Jenny walked in the door. Jericho lifted his hand to his assault rifle, and Nova rushed to back him off. I guess he still needed some training on who and who not to shoot.

"Evening," I said.

"Hey, Gob," Leo said a little dully, moving up the the bar. "Listen, Jenny and me are here to do some discussion about business in town on behalf of our brother. We didn't think he'd be in any condition to do any negotiations with you, so he agreed to let us come talk to you."

To talk to me. "Okay," I replied, hiding the excitement and uneasiness that was boiling under the surface. I was an important figure in this town now, ghoul or not, but I wasn't so sure I could live up to the title. I shuffled my feet a little, watching them both.

"We just want to clarify business, now that the saloon's yours. Want to know how things are going to run, you know." Leo scratched at his head, like some sorta unnatural twitch.

"I'm starting a hotel business," Nova said. We all looked to her. "Bedrooms are my thing, I guess. We're going to keep the bar, and a little bit of food service on the side. You guys can do whatever you want down there."

Leo fidgeted nervously, scratching at his shoulder a bit. "You sure?"

"Positive. All we want is a humble piece of business."

I was glad that Nova stepped up to do the talking, but I felt a little ashamed at the same time. I had to say something. So I took in a big gulp of air and said: "Moriarty's property is still ours. If Andy wants to buy any of it, he can come talk to us." While Jericho's here pointing a gun in his face.

"Okay," Jenny said, but she sounded a little unsure of that. I was pretty certain that was Andy's biggest beef with us, and I wasn't about to give up to him that easily. Not while I had a bit of backing and a sense of self-esteem on the rise.

"So, you have any other questions, don't be afraid to come up and visit," Nova said forcefully. In other words: "Okay, get the fuck out now."

"Sure," Leo said, nodding. "See you later."

After they left, Nova shot me a bright smile. "Look at you, wily business man."

"Huh?"

"You're made of steel underneath all that, aren't ya?" she said, giving me bright eyes. "Standing up to those guys."

"Whatever. They come in here again, you just give me the word, Nova, and I'll shoot 'em dead."

"Not so fast, hon," Nova chastised, giving him a bit of a dirty look. "You won't be shooting anyone unless they're shooting us first."

He scoffed. "You're no fun."

I was a little scary to hear him say that, but we all chuckled a bit anyway. Victory number two for Gob's. Man, it felt great to think that.

So two weeks passed without anything exciting happening. People slowly started to come back, chatting amongst themselves about more rumours they'd heard. A lot about John went flying around all the time, and I was a little sick of hearing it. They were putting him on a pedestal he didn't deserve, and man were the stories ridiculous. Acts of heroism and grandeur, but of course a bit of evil on the side, just to keep him constant. I just thought everyone was a little too worked up about him, and I just wished he'd up and disappear.

One night, as we were winding down to close, Jericho and Rag left (Rag moved out of the saloon, and he'd picked up sleeping at the common house) and it was just Nova and I cleaning up the saloon. We were quiet for a little while, but then she broke the quiet.

"Everyone's still talking about him." She picked up another glass and brought armfuls to the counter. "About John."

My spine tingled and my heart skipped a beat. Not her, too. She was still enchanted with him. "Oh," I said quietly. This wasn't a topic I was interested in getting to, especially not after letting myself think that things between me and her were going so well.

"He's done a lot of shit," she said, leaning on the counter in front of me, scratching at a black spot on the top, avoiding my eyes. "But... I can't help but think that he's the best thing that ever happened to me."

That did it. Dammit, I was a fool for letting myself believe for a second that things were getting better for me, that she actually cared about me, and fucking shit bitch goddamn—

"If he had never come here, Colin would still be alive, and you..." she finally looked up to me, smiling a bit. "I never would have saw you. I wouldn't be as happy as I am now."

I watched her, kicking myself mentally. I really was a sensitive pushover. But who could blame me, looking the way I did? I never got ahead of myself just so I could avoid being rejected over and over like I had been for the better portion of my life, so I guess it was easy for me to jump to those conclusions that I really was worthless to everyone, especially her. To hear her say that, though, to say she was happy....

"Sorry," I muttered, and she recoiled, still smiling.

"For what?"

Oh, right, she couldn't hear what I was thinking inside my head. "I, uh...."

"How many times have I told you to stop apologizing for everything?" she said, laughing. "What do you have to be sorry about? Making me happy? Is that such a bad thing to you?"

"No!" I shouted a little too loudly. "I, uh..." Don't say it, Gob, do not say "Sorry."

"I've gotta wonder sometimes, just what is going on in there." She grinned and brushed a bit of hair from my forehead. I grinned back.

We looked at each other for a long time, me wondering what I ever did to deserve a girl like her, when she broke away, saying: "You know, sometimes I can hear music underneath the static if it's quiet. Let's see what's on...."

"...lost all ambition for worldly acclaim..."

Both of us jerked out of surprise. The transmission was completely clear. I felt my jaw drop and my eyes widen, and after the reality sank in, we both started laughing breathlessly, still shocked beyond belief.

"Holy shit!" Nova said, and I just laughed in response. She leaned over the counter and threw her arms around my neck, and I hugged her back. The radio was working. It felt like years since I heard music.

"...And with your admission—"

"I never thought I'd miss this damn thing," Nova said, pulling away from me. "We must have Lady Luck on our side."

"Yeah." I really did miss the radio. About a month ago, it was all my life was, it was the only thing I had to hang on to, the only escape door there was for me to take. But that had been a month ago, and a lot had happened in a month. I'd forgotten all about the radio, and I hardly noticed that it'd slipped from my mind over the days. Now I didn't need an escape from my life; the life I had now was the fantasy I'd always wanted but didn't dare dream of.

"I don't want to set the world on fire, I just want to start a flame in your heart..."

We were watching each other again. It felt too good to be true when she looked at me like that. "You wanna dance?" she said, cupping her chin in one hand as she leaned on the counter and looked up at me.

I nodded, my smile growing. "Yeah."

I rounded the counter, and when I got close, she held her hand out for me to take. She snorted a little.

"Ma'am," I said, kissing the top of it. She laughed again, and then I took her hand while she put her other on my shoulder.We started a slow waltz, and I led her around in circles as the melody played out.

"This is nice," she said softly.

"Mhm."

I twirled her around slowly, and when she came back, she was beaming brightly. "I've always wanted to do that," she said.

"No-one's ever twirled you?"

"No-one's ever danced with me."

"Really?"

"Nn-nn."

"Well, you're a natural."

"Why, thank you."

"...And that one is you, No other will do..."

And, oddly enough, I thought that maybe that kid was capable of doing good after all.