Hello, everyone! This fic is definitely going to be much shorter than my primary piece, Halfmoon, but it won't necessarily be too short. Probably ranging anywhere from 3-5 chapters.
Also, for anyone who's currently reading Halfmoon and is curious about the identity and name of my LW, Jack was originally my Lone Wanderer, but I did adept him into a different character for that story. Halfmoon's Jack is based off of this one, yes, but no, they are not correlated in any way.
Note that the prologue and the prologue alone of this story is told in this particular tense with more a storybook / flashback feel to it, however all future chapters will be told in a 3rd person tense similar to the one read in Halfmoon. I.E, no more recollection of past events, and instead the character actually going through them.
This prologue is essentially told as if it's a flashback.
The first time Butch had to watch the Nosebleed leave him, it'd been months ago now, on the day he left the vault in pursuit of finding his father. All Butch could remember by now was those brilliant, bright blue eyes and a swollen, bleeding set of lips parting from his for the last time, as they shared a final moment of eye contact before that stupid, determined kid turned and ran, and so with him left Butch's beloved Tunnel Snake jacket.
For months after that day, Butch never said another demeaning, insulting word to Amata, left thumb-tacks on the Overseer's chair, stole sweet rolls from the vault cafe, or do anything that had coined him a bad kid in the past. In fact, Butch hardly even walked the halls of the vault for a good, long couple of weeks. He stayed home, either alone or caring for and loving his alcoholic mother more than he ever had in the past. Otherwise, he would be sitting with an indisputably lost expression clouding his midnight blue eyes, staring down the mouth of a bottle. Butch was hollow for a long time, stuck replaying the image of Jack bolting down that steel hallway, alarms blaring too loud for him to hear the fading footsteps as he left. The image of those stunning bright eyes stayed deep in his thoughts like a scar. Butch swore that if he ever did see the sky outside the vault, the color he'd see couldn't even dream to compare to that in Jack's eyes.
It wasn't till about three months later, when the revolution of the younger vault generation began, that Butch was forced out of his seclusive silence and back out into the simulated sunlight lamps of 101. With the chaos and craze of the revolt recharging his love for mischief and adrenaline-pumped violence, Butch's past attitude of witty, snarky, and yet blatant ignorant teenage-like behavior started to rekindle in his heart. However, the simple notion of having a good reason for him to crack the side of guard's head with a baseball bat wasn't enough to pull Butch out of his slump. Granted, it was plenty to keep him out of his room, but what he was in was far too deep to be solved by just that. It took the knowledge and confirmation that freedom from the vault, a life out in the wasteland, under the real sun and sky, that brought an old light back to Butch's eyes. A light he used to have while Jack still lived in the vault. Of course, that didn't fix Butch through-and-through, it just gave him a new hope to hang onto.
As another month's time passed and the kids of Vault 101 still resided furious under the power of the Overseer, that giant steel door locking away the outside opened up one more time, carrying an answer to a message Amata had discreetly sent out into the wastes.
The message, as it entered from the daylight outside, ran calloused fingertips through a golden blonde tunnel snake, cocked a 10mm pistol, and popped the collar of a worn leather jacket.
The day the Lone Wanderer returned to his home vault was one Butch might never forget, despite how little of it actually stuck with him. Between the radroaches, the gunshots, and the chaos of vault dwellers being turned against their own, there was little clarity that day, if not any at all. Damn near all of it was a blur these days, save for only a few particular minutes and precious moments. The first being the sight of his old Tunnel Snake jacket walking down a hall toward him, covered in a layer of Capital Wasteland dust, and a blonde stubble covered face that smiled as it caught sight of him. Whatever Jack had said to him had faded by now, but what stuck was the lasting warmth of a sudden, firm hug that nearly knocked him off his feet when it hit him.
Jack was taken aback by the sight of Butch, and thought of no better reaction other than to walk right up to him and wrap his arms around him, pulling him close after so many months of having only a memory of him to keep his mind at ease. That stupid, abrasive Tunnel Snake was still a part of his heart, and it was a renewed hope to know he might not never be his again. Butch remembered wanting to grab Jack tighter and hold him closer before he ended their hug, taking a step back to talk to him.
A little dampening wavered over his memory of that day, though, as the only piece missing was his sky in the form of Jack's eyes. The Wanderer wore sunglasses, dark and reflective enough so that he couldn't see those eyes he'd learned to treasure. After a short pass of words between the two men, and a lack of even a peck of a kiss, Jack was gone for a second time, disappearing off into the Overseer's office to talk him down off of his throne.
Not even an hour from that point forward, Butch was declared free, and Jack was gone yet again. The pit in Butch's chest started to grow again, and he hated it more than words could describe. It wasn't like a Tunnel Snake to ache and long for somebody once, let alone twice.
Then there Butch was, standing before the great steel door of Vault 101, and there lie his freedom just outside. As the giant gate screeched on its metal tracks and slid away, sunlight streamed through the slits in the small wooden door ahead. Butch took a breath and proceeded down the tunnel which led to his new life. He had no idea where he would be going other than out, and as he opened that thin wooden door and squinted at the brilliant, bright daylight outside, only one thing seemed clear.
The beautiful blue skies above were complete shit compared to Jack.
