This is a series of one shots from Fallout 3, Fallout New Vegas, and Fallout 4. I do not own any of the characters, of course.
All One Shots are in alphabetical order for your convenience.
Anything with an ➵ and a title has been reread, and (hopeful...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"I listened to your tapes. Put them on repeat for the past few days, trying to understand your language."
I was currently back in the Divide. After sorting things out with Ulysses, we actually became friends. He was an interesting man, who spoke of everyone's past except his own. And when he did speak of his past, he used such language so that I could not decipher his metaphors. When walking to and from places in the Mojave, I would listen to the holotape he left me. The last holotape he had. Numerous questions had arisen after listening to it, and I finally started to understand, even if only a little bit. And so here I was. Sitting next to the man on the rocky veiw of our ruined home. I had so much to ask him, but due to my errands I had to run, so little time.
Hoover Dam had already been seized by me and Yes Man, making New Vegas and the rest of the Mojave indepentdent. Both Legion and NCR had walked away, tails between their legs and heads cut off. Ulysses looked to me, and then back to his everyday veiw, "Learned something? Heard you stole the Dam. Made it yours. Tell me, Courier, who's flag did you wear on your back?"
I stared him in the eye, captivating him so that the first to look away would be rendered weak. Or maybe strong. I sat next to him on the rough rock, "Yours. I wore your flag when I took Hoover Dam."
Ulysses seemed to think about this before speaking in his dull, deep tone, "Not my flag. The flag of the Old World. The one that has yet to awaken."
I rustled through my bag before pulling out a heavy book, "I found this in a Pre-War classroom. I thought you might want it."
I handed him the history book of the old world. The pages were dusted and some stuck together, but for the most part, it was in extremely good condition. He took it into his calloused hands, rubbing his thumb over a corner of the cover and staying silent. He looked to me, and then flipped through it, "This book holds only words, not actions. And that's what history is. Real history is actions." He closed it, but kept it in his hands, "When coming upon this, you got it because it made you think of me. Is that correct?"
"I guess so."
"That indicates that through me, history is seen. That is a greater gift than anything imaginable." He paused, never before saying the words he was about to, "Thank you."
I blushed slightly at his heartfelt words, "It was no trouble. You live and breathe Old-World history. How could I not see it through you and your actions? No matter. I had some questions."
"I may or may not have answers."
"Well, you should. Our past. You say we never spoke, but that you followed the path I made, in my footsteps. You, quite literally, followed in my footsteps. That's besides the point." I took a deep breathe, "I found a place back in the Mojave. It was an abandoned apartment complex. Near Legion territory."
He stayed silent, keeping his eyes off of me.
"I decided to explore, because curiosity, as you know, is my favorite sin. I entered a room, 2B to be exact, and... there was a photo... of us. We clearly knew each other... We were more than just strangers, I mean."
"We were."
"Why lie about it? What were we?"
"Lied because the truth couldn't be told to someone of your manner." He stayed quiet for an uncomfortably long time, trying to build up the reason in his mind, and I stayed silent, letting him ponder. "Didn't tell you because you would think me a liar, and that would be a much worse pain than keeping to myself."
I stayed silent, blushing against the nighttime wind, "Then tell me the truth now. Our whole situation is over, and now, we're friends. So tell me the truth."
He stayed quiet, gripping his history book with white knuckles. He released it, and fished in his pockets. He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, and handed it to me. I unfolded it. Had he kept this in his pocket this whole time? I read it with careful eyes:
Hey, love! Are you still in that Legion camp? You should move down here with me! The trees are glowing this time of year. Literally. Anyways, I want you to know that I love you and I'm always thinking of you!
It had my signature at the bottom. My signature was the only thing I could remember since I got bullet-taken. And here it was. I held it in a slightly shaking hand, and swallowed thickly, "So we were..."
"There's many words to describe what we were. Lovers. Friends. Both. We-"
"What did I do to betray your trust to the point where you wanted to kill me?"
He looked down at his history book, "You... We got into something we shouldn't have. Buisness with Graham. Can't recall."
I knew he could. I know he knew exactly what had happened, but if he didn't want to talk about it now, I wasn't going to force him. Instead, I moved closer, holding his hand on top of a history book as he continued to mutter things about our past adventures with one another.
