milliways_bar | (no subject)

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ellen park

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Ellen stumps into the Bar in her power armor, because even with the Capital Wasteland having gone quieter over time, it is still not a particularly pleasant or peaceful place, and also because when the best sharpshooter in the garrison is the chaplain, then the chaplain gets to do the deathclaw's share of the shooting. It was... hm... something of a messy day today. Leave it at that.

Anyway, she pulls off her helmet and clatters over to the Bar, Dogmeat at her heels. "I could use some whiskey, please, Bar," she says. "And a bowl of water for my dog... and if you have a book on how not to punch somebody you're supposed to be counseling I could really use it."

The beverages appear. There does not appear to be any such book, however.

"Oh well. Thank you anyway," says Ellen, and makes her way over to one of the stronger chairs. Taking that armor off is a job in itself, and she'd like her drink first. Feel free to interrupt, though- she's okay with that.

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"Ellen," Diana says, moving from her own table to that of her armor-clad friend.

"It's good to see you. I hope things are well?"

"Oh! Hi, Diana," says Ellen, looking up with a smile. "I'd say they're well, more or less- it's been a while, hasn't it?"

Oh, thank God, someone she can talk to about this.

"For you and me, both, it seems."

Diana smiles in turn, warm and bright.

"How has your world kept you busy, since last we spoke?"

"Well," says Ellen, "I'll start with the biggest thing; I got married a while back. His name's Jerald, and he's one of our Scribes, and I didn't have the opportunity to come here and get anyone to see otherwise I would've invited you."

"Congratulations!" Diana says, genuinely pleased. "May your life together be long, happy, and productive."

The Wasteland will need it.

"And I do thank you for the thought. Perhaps I'll manage to meet him someday, whether or not he comes here. I would like that, I'll admit."

"Thank you," says Ellen. "One day maybe I'll bring you over to meet him. It's not like I don't have a reputation for knowing people from outside the Wasteland, after all... speaking of which, we've been thawing out a bunch of the people from that alien ship and helping them resettle."

"How are they coping? I hope they're responding well to whosoever is helping them to resettle?"

Diana presupposes there are counselors, at any rate.

Frozen victims of alien abduction tend to need them. Non-frozen victims, too.

"It's been difficult for some of them, but we're working on it," Ellen says. "We've got a small Brotherhood garrison keeping watch over them and working with them. I've been assigned to the garrison for a few months on the grounds that a chaplain is probably the closest we're going to get to anyone who can do real counseling or psychological work."

Which isn't to say that Ellen isn't quietly hoping for them to find a psychologist or something among the frozen subjects, but as long as she's dreaming, she'd like a one-headed cow.

Diana's eyebrows hit her hairline.

"That's a tall order."

She should know.

"How are you holding up?"

Unless she's just gotten there, Diana bets that counseling has been wearing on Ellen. Holding up other people's burdens, even for a short time, can be exhausting.

"I've been better," Ellen admits. "My job was easier when it just involved a lot of shooting and a lot more trying not to die."

And that includes the parts where she had to fight in the fetid gladiatorial arenas of Pittsburgh, and the bit with the near miss with involuntary brain surgery.

"On the other hand, I'm better at dealing with these people than the rest of the garrison, which helps, and I have Jerald to fall back on, which helps a lot."

"I can see how it would. The weight of other people's lives is a heavy one. I prefer defending the world against overwhelming odds to that, on occasion."

It never lasts, but --

"Jerald is not a counselor-type himself, then?"

"Afraid not," says Ellen. "He's a Scribe, but he's Order of the Sword- he designs and builds and maintains weapons. Including this one."

She indicates the shocksword she's got strapped on; it'd be a respectable Chinese straight sword anywhere else if it weren't for the Brotherhood emblem and the microfusion cell built into the hilt.

"He's better at understanding and at talking than he is at fighting, but he's about a million times better at designing and building things than at either of the others."

"There's much to be said for that particular skill set."

Diana cannot deny it.

"But does that mean you are in some need of a counselor of your own, Ellen?"

"It would help," Ellen admits. "The other Capital Brotherhood chaplain is assigned to a different unit, and he's a little weird anyway. And Reverend Avellone died some time ago, even if they'd let me back into Vault 101 to see him in the first place."

"I'd ask how 'weird' this man might be, but that would derail our own conversation."

Alas.

"If there's anything I might do to aid in this, I would be glad to help. Some of the members of the psychiatric profession that frequent this place are -- less reliable than I would prefer."

To talk completely around the subject.

Ellen nods. "I think I would rather talk with you anyway," she says. "I don't know how much any of them would necessarily understand. They haven't seen, you know?"

"I know."

They both do, really.

"So, then. What is troubling you?"

Ellen takes a deep breath, steeples her fingers.

"We've been thawing people out," she says slowly, "and most of them are- are just people. They've been- you know- they've been through a lot. And some of them... well, a lot of them are from before the War, and they never knew it happened until we thawed them out. Some of them ask to be put back in the tubes, but we don't know how to do that, so the best I can do is listen to them and try to point them at things getting better."

"But there's this one guy..."

"It can be quite an adjustment, traveling through time -- insofar as that is what they've done."

Ellen seems to know that well.

"Is this man's story particularly hard to bear, or are there . . . other concerns?"

Ellen nods. "Some of them are managing better than others," she says. "I can't say I've had to face that kind of thing myself, but I can at least understand what it's like to lose a decent world, which is something."

She grimaces. "It's the other one. His name is Giles Wolstencroft. He was kidnapped during the building of Vault 76... he used to work for Vault-Tec."

Diana's eyebrow rises.

"The ones who built all the vaults?"

"The very same," Ellen says. "He was their assistant chief executive officer... which, unless he only got the position because of nepotism or something, means that he knew about the Societal Preservation Program, and the experiments it was going to be running on all those people."

"Ah."

Hera help them all.

"I can see where counseling such a man would be -- more demanding than most."

For one.

"I haven't had to work with him very long yet," Ellen says. "I keep wanting to punch him anyway."

"I've known that feeling before, myself."

Diana's voice is wry, and her smile is slightly crooked.

"A good friend of mine once made a terrible mistake that cost many people their lives. I wanted to punch him for quite some time after that."

Brother Eye was -- a significant error.

"At least that was a friend of yours," says Ellen. "I would imagine that-"

She was going to say, I would imagine that helped, but she's just remembered Amata. You're a hero, and you have to leave...

"-never mind," she finishes. "How did you handle that?"

"Berated him, then went away for a year. When I came back -- "

She spreads her hands.

" -- there were enough other troubles that I could leave that one behind. I'm afraid you don't seem to have that option. Punching a proxy might help to let go of the frustration in advance. Somewhat."

"I suppose there's that," Ellen agrees. "I could probably use the practice, to be honest. It's been a while since I had either John-117 or Voodoo to work with on hand-to-hand."

"We can work on mindfulness, too, if you like. As an ambassador, I had to learn to keep my temper even with the most abhorrent government and private business functionaries. But the offer to spar is always open, as well."

"That would probably also be helpful," Ellen says. "Everything I've had in the way of training so far has focused on people who were in the same situation as me, either in the Vault or in a field unit of the Brotherhood. Not so much with dealing with outsiders."

"I have no end of experience with that, and also of being an outsider, to one degree or another. Experience with both sides of the issue is -- more helpful than it isn't."

Ellen nods. "I'm going to owe you fairly big for this one, I think," she says. "Thank you in advance."

"It's not a question of owing, when one is among friends, Ellen."

Or sisters, in the way of the Amazons.

"Sorry. Vault habits," Ellen says wryly. "But seriously, though, if there's ever any kind of favor or assistance I can offer you..."

"No apologies necessary. But you can rest assured that I will ask, if the need is great enough. We both have too many people depending on us for anything else."

"No kidding," Ellen says. "How have things been in your world, anyway? I don't think I got to ask."

"Less quiet than I'd like them to be," Diana admits. "But politically, not cosmic catastrophe. I'm wearing out on delicacy, I will admit."

Governing bodies are great. Getting governing bodies to agree on anything is -- a nightmare.

"Lobbyists are my bane, I'm afraid."

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