Chapter 13: Smiling Sad

Chapter 13: Smiling Sad

Good morning, to everyone out there in the Mojave Wasteland! You're listening to Radio New Vegas, and I'm your host, Mr. New Vegas. I've just received a news story, and I'll be honest listeners... this one is a bit strange. Apparently, several unidentified aircraft were spotted flying over the REPCONN Test Site yesterday by a local crackpot living in Novac. He spoke to a toy bear near one of our microphones: "It's ghouls, I tell you! Religious ghouls in space rockets, looking for a land to call their own! Don't you laugh at me! I know a spell that'll make you show your true form - a cave rat taught it to me!" This part of the program has been brought to you by the Triple Seven Hotel and Casino: Your lucky number is always Triple Seven. Coming to you next on the airwaves is a personal favorite song of mine. It's Peggy Lee singing that classic song, Why Don't You Do Right?

When I got back to the suite at the Lucky 38, I was still completely wired from the "Wake-Up-Juice." It had been several hours, and I was amazed at how alert I still felt. I checked the time on my Pip Boy - it was just after nine thirty in the morning. So, to help pass the time until my companions were up, I decided to do something that I hadn't done in a very long time.

Take a shower.

Making a big deal out of taking a shower may seem like a very odd thing to do, but keep in mind: even though it's been over 200 years since the apocalypse, most water sources you'll find are filthy, poisonous, irradiated pools of muddy sludge. Out in the wasteland, any water clean and pure enough to drink is too precious to waste on hygiene. Even in the cities of the New California Republic, fresh water is just as scarce. Most of the clean water owned by the NCR is used to grow crops, and everything else is rationed as drinking water. As far as I know, the only place in the NCR with enough clean water to go around so people can bathe on a regular basis is the capital city of Shady Sands.

That's why the NCR is so dead set on controlling Hoover Dam: whoever controls the dam has access to Lake Mead, the greatest source of non-irradiated fresh water still in the wasteland. But the Lucky 38 - at least, according to Victor - has its own water purification facilities and reservoir beneath the casino. It was just one of many... things House had installed under his hotel-casino-fortress to make it almost self-sufficient before the bombs fell. Part of me was curious as to what else House had hidden away in the Lucky 38, but another part insisted that I didn't want to know.

The shower was more refreshing and more relaxing than anything I'd experienced in recent memory. I felt muscles that I had forgotten I had loosen up and relax for the first time in years. As the water ran through my hair and over me, it felt like years of dirt and grime and filth and blood were literally washing away. I stayed in the shower for a good long while after I felt cleaner than I had in years, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I gulped down several mouthfuls of water before I turned the faucet off. I didn't want to waste any more water than I had to... old habits, I guess.

After drying off, I picked up my shirt off the floor, and laughed grimly when I finally got a good look at it. Apparently, I had been walking around Vegas all night in a shirt stained with my own dried blood. I stuck a finger through the hole in the right shoulder, wondering how I'd missed something so obvious for so long. So I took it over to the sink, and tried to wash away at least a little of the blood, but no dice. The blood and dirt had been caked on my shirt all night, so that all it did was turn the water a reddish-brown and make my shirt soggy.

I hung my wet shirt on the towel rack behind me to give it some time to dry out, and turned to look at myself in the mirror above the sink. The wounds on my right shoulder and upper left arm were mended, but still visible. They weren't the only scars on my body, but they did stand out the most, since the skin was still pink where the muscle and tissues had been regrown. My hair was mostly dry, but still damp enough that it was matted and most of it clung to me. I ran my fingers through my hair to get it out of my face, and took a good, long look at my beard.

"I need a shave," I said aloud. I looked around the sink, and my eyes fell on a jar of shaving cream and a straight razor. Five minutes of very careful shaving later, my face was completely beard free... and immediately, I wished I hadn't bothered. The bullet scar that slashed across my right cheek was healed, but it was still deep, and still very visible. It wasn't quite the Glasgow Smile I thought it was when I first got a look at it a few days ago, but it was still pretty gruesome.

When I finally got dressed and stepped out of the bathroom, I was greeted by the sight of a floating eyebot hovering right in front of me, directly at eye level.

"Hey there, ED-E," I said to the floating robot. "So, where have you been all night?" The floating robot bobbed to the left, let out two beeps, then bobbed to the right, and let out two more beeps.

"Just here and there?" I must've been right with what was (honestly) just a guess, because ED-E bobbed up and down in the air like someone nodding their head, and beeped happily.

"Yeah, me too. Spent the last few hours just wandering around the Strip. Maybe you can come with me next time," Somehow, I just knew that my problems with insomnia weren't finished. ED-E beeped happily at the offer. At that moment, I heard Veronica's voice and several odd noises coming from the kitchen that caught my attention.

"Don't you worry about a thing, Cass! One sip of this, and you'll be as sober as a Brotherhood Paladin on Sunday," Veronica said. I heard Cass grumble and mutter something incoherent back at her. I walked in, ED-E floating behind me, and saw Cass sitting at the kitchen table with an ice pack pressed against her head. Her jacket, hat, and shotgun were nowhere to be found and her red hair was loose and untied. Veronica on the other hand was standing at the counter and stirring a bubbling and boiling mixture in a pot on the cook top. She turned to me with a smile.

"Morning! No longer Grizzly Adams, huh? You look good." She said, beaming. I didn't believe a word of it. "Did you sleep well?"

"Not really," I deadpanned. "What about you? You seem awfully chipper."

"Bothaya, shuddup," Cass grumbled, lowering her head to the table with a clunk. "Ow..."

"I had a great night sleep!" She said, ignoring Cass and continuing to stir the mixture in the pot. "The beds here are a lot softer than the cots in the Brotherhood Citadels I've lived in, and they're a hell of a lot better than anything I've found in the wastes."

"So, what are you up to?" I asked, honestly curious. "Making breakfast?" I was hoping against that - what she was stirring both looked and smelled vile.

"Sort of. Cass had a tiny bit too much to drink last night, so I'm making a batch of the patented Brotherhood Scribe Hangover Cure to clear her head." I took a look over her shoulder to get a better look at what she was stirring. It was green, it smelled positively rank, and judging by the egg shells discarded nearby, there were Gecko eggs in the mixture.

"Fuggov," Cass' words were somewhat muffled by her mouth pressed against the table. "Ahm f'ne, jus shuddup, n'leave m'alone..."

"So, the Brotherhood has a hangover cure?" I asked. That was a bit surprising, to be honest - I'd always thought of the Brotherhood of Steel as pious religious monks, and the kind of excessive drinking that required a hangover cure didn't seem to mesh with that image.

"Of course we do," Veronica said as she turned off the stove and started pouring the foul smelling mixture into a glass. "Just because the Elders and Paladins have to keep up appearances doesn't mean the rest of us don't know how to party." I chuckled, and took a look at Cass, who was clutching the ice pack to her head tightly, and trying to cover her ears.

"Frankly, I'm amazed she got drunk at all. She knocks back whiskey like it's water."

"Maybe, but I think drinking three bottles of 200 year old scotch in under an hour and a half will knock anybody on their ass, no matter how much they're used to drinking," Veronica did her best to coax some semblance of life back into Cass.

"I take it back," I said, watching the two of them. "I'm amazed she's not dead."

"M'livers ind'structble," Cass boasted, patting her gut with a fist for emphasis. When Veronica offered the hangover cure, Cass screwed her face up and shoved it away. "Dunwanna."This chapter is updated by nov(e)(l)biin.com

"I know it looks disgusting, but drinking this will help your head. Trust me," Cass just growled, and continued to refuse, but Veronica wasn't going to let her go that easily. "Ok, that's how you want to do this? Fine... either you drink it, or I make you. And I can think of a few very... creative ways to distract you."

"My type is a leggy brunette who enjoys long walks in the desert, candlelit metal workshops, and midnight sparring sessions," she said almost immediately. My head perked up as I tried to conjure up a metal image of the kind of girl she described.

"That's... oddly specific," I said.

"What can I say, I know what I like," she replied with a shrug. I didn't buy it. Unsurprising, really: I hadn't known her all that long, but she was becoming incredibly easy to read. From the tone of her voice and her body language, she was hiding something, and the last time she deflected like this was when she was trying to hide her association with the Brotherhood of Steel.

"No, it's not just that... there's a story here, isn't there?" I asked, regarding her much more carefully now. She looked away, and her ever present smile, while still there, seemed to fade just slightly as she spoke.

"It... it was a long time ago. I was pretty young."

"You're still pretty young," I countered with a smirk.

"Shut up! I'm trying to be serious here," She stayed silent for a minute or two, as if she was trying to pluck the right words from the air. Finally, she asked me "Have you ever been in love?"

Oh wow. Was THAT a loaded question. How the hell should I answer that? Should I be honest, and tell her the truth? Hell, that was a long story in and of itself, and for all I knew, the story she wanted to tell me was just as long, if not longer. Should I deflect, like she seemed to like to do? Would she be able to tell that I was deflecting, since I really didn't want to talk about it? Should I just flat out deny it? Would she be able to tell I was lying through my teeth if I denied it?

Then I realized, I was thinking about this way too much. I'm not the type to spill an encyclopedia's content of my personal history at the slightest provocation anyway.

"Yeah," I finally admitted, trying to sound as noncommittal as possible, and then very quickly added "Why?"

"Well, because... I was in love, once. She and I were both young, but... I mean, I'd like to think it was love." She sounded nostalgic as she spoke, but my mind caught hold of the 'was' and wouldn't let go.

"Was, huh?" I asked. "So what happened?"

"Her parents happened," I cocked an eyebrow. I didn't quite understand, so I motioned for her to continue.

"The Brotherhood of Steel doesn't take on new members... not really," Veronica said, sounding almost like she was quoting directly from a Brotherhood book of bylaws and regulations. "For the most part, nearly everyone can trace their lineage back to the original soldiers and civilians who left the US Army in The Exodus after the bombs fell."

"The US Army?" I asked. I'd never heard that before. She nodded in response.

"Yeah. It's a bit complicated, I know, since the Brotherhood has styled itself on the armored knights of ancient times, but the discipline and structure is all very old world military. And like I said, most of us can trace our roots because we don't take on new members. And that means a lot of members think that obligates all of us to procreate."

I could see exactly where this story was going.

"And her parents couldn't accept that their daughter was gay."

"It wasn't just them," Veronica said. "Our Chapter Elder, Father Elijah... he wasn't exactly supportive on my end, either. I admit, having your mentor tell you your interest in women is 'just a disgusting, unnatural, childish phase that you'll grow out of' stings for quite a while, to say the least. So, she left the Brotherhood the first chance she got."

"What about your parents?" I asked.

"They..." she paused, and rubbed the back of her neck (or, she rubbed the back of her hood where her neck was underneath). "My parents never found out, actually. They died a long time ago, in the same battle trying to hold off the NCR from... something." She let out a short, sad sigh. "I don't remember what it was. Guess it seemed important at the time."

"Didn't you want to go with her when she left?" I asked. I couldn't imagine why she'd want to stay if her parents were dead - she wouldn't have anything left keeping her there. She was quiet for a few minutes, not answering right away. Finally, she spoke up.

"No. I couldn't bring myself to leave everyone behind. I know it sounds stupid, and like I was trading happiness for living in a bad place with bad people, but despite it all the Brotherhood is my family. Even if most of them don't... can't accept who I am. You see, after my parents passed, Father Elijah looked after me. The whole Brotherhood brought me up, really, but he made sure of it. Still... I couldn't convince her to stay. I had hoped that love would influence her decision, but... we were both too stubborn. And she was always just so driven. In hindsight, it's... actually kind of funny. One of the best things about her, and one of the things that attracted me to her, making me fall in love with her in the first place... it's the very thing that kept us apart."

She hid her face from me, but I didn't need to see. I could tell from her words, from her voice, and from her body language that she was holding back tears. Suddenly, and without warning, words flashed across my mind: the words of the boy at the 188.

"With regret comes a girl smiling sad...wraps her and her heart up like a pack..."

She composed herself quickly, and turned back to me. Her ever present smile was spread wide across her face... but now I wasn't sure I'd ever seen a real smile. I'm amazed I hadn't picked up on it before, but now I finally saw her smile for what it really was: a mask. It was a way for her to hide what she was really feeling. A way for her to deal, day to day, with the harsh realities of the world and all of the pain in her heart that she would never be rid of.

"I don't know where she is now," she said, looking away and up towards the sky. "... but I'm sure she's moved on. I still think about her, though... once in a while..."

"What was her name?" I asked, genuinely curious. I knew it didn't really matter, but it felt like asking was the right thing to do.

"Christine."