It's been three years ago since I left Vault 101 after my Dad disappeared. Dad left me to fend for myself, though I know he didn't count on the rebellion that happened shortly thereafter. I was thrust from my safe cocoon underground to the Capitol Wasteland. I watched as the people I grew up with killed each other over politics and the fear of change. A fear that I, of course, could understand, yet was forced to embrace.
Wandering around, I'd become something of an unwilling celebrity, even earning the moniker "The Lone Wanderer" by a radio DJ who actually became a friend. When all I had was the blue issued vault suit on my back, a colour that clashed with the drabness of the wasteland, I got noticed.
I'd been training with my dad to be a doctor and scientist like him as early as I can remember. Instead of normal lullabies, my dad James would make up silly songs about the periodic table. I'd been a good student, far surpassing my peers, so it was no surprise when my G.O.A.T. placement test put me in an internship with Dad and Jonas, who was like my uncle. I still vividly remember seeing Jonas' lifeless body, killed by the power hungry and moronic Officer Mack after Dad escaped. His eyes had been open, unseeing, no longer filled with the laughter they were once known for. It was my first real taste of loss and it tasted bitter.
Managing to track down my Dad, who was naively surprised to see me, he let me into his most coveted secret: Project Purity. The dream of my long dead mother and a handful of scientists trying to make the world a better place. Free, clean water for everyone. It was the most noble of dreams. And yet, for all my love and respect for Dad, something had tainted our relationship. He didn't trust me to do much with the science part, and used me and my good reputation as a gopher for the things he needed. I'd wanted, so badly, to be working with him on the project. I'd read his notes, I understood it, yet in his eyes I was still a child. It was Dr. Madison Li that I worked the most with, she appreciated my intellect and optimism. I never knew what became of her.
Two years ago my dad, my mentor, my life, was killed. Any childish annoyance I felt for him disappeared the moment he sacrificed himself to save the project instead of letting it fall into the wrong hands.
With the help of the Brotherhood of Steel, myself and the scientists who survived continued Project Purity, with me now at the helm. It was done. Aqua Pura was bottled and distributed for everyone, freely. When the tests came back that the water was clean, we all held hands and jumped into the water, fully clothed, full of light.
Six months ago, I left the Capitol Wasteland with a caravan full of Aqua Pura and dreams of something new. I went trying to expand on Dad's research. I'd heard that there were some vaults in this area, and I'd hoped a few of them hadn't been scavenged too badly. If I could find another G.E.C.K. I thought I might be able to clean whole acres of land, clean water, clean air, new growth. It was ambitious, but it was the only thing I had. Hoover Dam would be the perfect place to start Project Purity V2. The Colorado River was clean enough, but Project Purity V2 was more about new growth and getting the water to all the small settlements that were too far away from the river itself. With a G.E.C.K. I could restart the growth that was lost from the old world. With my predictions, the areas surrounding the Colorado River would be teeming with trees, greenery, and fertile soil in a decade.
I made it to Goodsprings shortly after that. That was when I helped Doc Mitchell with the hardest surgery either of us had ever done. With two gunshot wounds point blank to the head, how the man had managed to stay alive was nothing short of a miracle, if such things in this world still existed. When the man known as Courier Six's eyes opened in the middle of the surgery and looked right at me -right through me - I felt a terror like I'd never felt before. The kind that starts as a spark and then makes your whole body shiver. How anyone could awaken in the middle of a surgery being filled with so much drugs I didn't know. All I know is that those dead eyes haunted me in my nightmares now. What could I have done? I shot him full of med-x and continued my work. Doc and I operated on him for 18 hours straight. I didn't think he'd make it, but the next day, he was still alive. I waited until he was stable enough before leaving, but I made sure I wasn't there when he regained consciousness. At the time I thought I was just being silly, now I knew better.
Doc Mitchell offered to keep me on, even though he said the work was boring at best. This was the most he'd done as a doctor in years. I had to decline, but I promised I'd be back to visit.
I don't know if I'd ever go back to see Doc again because the guilt of saving the life of a monster haunted me. Now Six was known throughout the Mojave as "Nuntius", the messenger. A minion of Caesar, he'd become a monster: selling slaves, killing NCR pilgrims; the rumour was that he relished in bloodshed. Whole settlements disappeared overnight, the only message left were the crucified bodies of the people who the Legion didn't want.
I'd spent a while working with a few doctors at makeshift clinics and going on rounds with medical caravans. They were grateful for my help and the fact that I didn't really want payment, just supplies and information. I learned a great deal about the different plants that grew in the area, and their medicinal purposes. And, of course, I loved to distribute the bottles of water I had, the freshest in the world, as far as I knew. It didn't take long to run out, but I had the hope I'd make more. Some day. Most of the doctors were just that, medical professionals with basic training trying to save lives with what little they had. They were amazing, but didn't have the knowledge or resources I needed for my dream.
And just a week ago I made it to New Vegas, hoping that the city would offer answers. And safety. The Mojave was in turmoil, with too many pieces on the chessboard. I wanted no part of it.
I had always been grateful for the progressiveness of Elder Lyons and the Brotherhood of Steel because their views aligned with my own: that good things should be free and shared in a world where people had to scavenge daily just for radiated water. It made perfect sense to me, and it is hard to live in a world where that wasn't the common goal of everyone. Here though, in New Vegas, every faction had an agenda. The NCR was where I thought I'd get the most help, but the Legion was giving them a lot of pain. The Legion...I'd never seen them, thankfully, but I'd heard about them. I'd heard about this Caesar, the slavery, the killing, and of course, the Messenger. My monster.
I could see the ambition in Ambassador Crocker's eyes, when I finally got to meet him. Even though he seemed like a peaceful man, his statements on "benefits for the NCR" made me wary. He hadn't heard of any vaults that had a G.E.C.K, but he was going to try to help me find one, of course only if I swore loyalty to the NCR, which left a poor taste in my mouth.
When I told him that I wanted the G.E.C.K to be used fairly, he'd smiled chidingly in my face like I was a child and said, "Honey, here everyone fights for everything."
So now here I was, sitting at the bar at The Tops casino, drinking an agave juice and wondering what the hell my next move was. The people here needed this, not just the NCR, or New Vegas, but everyone. I sighed and leaned my chin on my hand. I'd even dressed up for my meeting with Crocker, now I wonder if presenting myself as a lady instead of a doctor was the real problem. I'd wanted to show him intelligence and sophistication, instead I felt like a fool in a blue dress. My father hadn't given up, even trapped in the vault. He'd always been working on Project Purity, even though it had taken decades. It was frustrating to know that now the only thing that was keeping me from starting a new one was politics. Politics and a G.E.C.K.
"Hello." A silken male voice woke me from my melancholy thoughts. I hadn't even heard him come up beside me. I looked over to see a handsome man dressed in a dapper suit with a matching fedora. He was wearing dark sunglasses, even inside.
Nodding back, I hoped to convey disinterest. I was used to these guys here at The Tops coming over and using awkward and frankly embarrassing pick-up lines on me. I'd shut enough of them down that I thought they'd gotten the message.
"Can I join you?" He gestured to the empty seat across from me. I'd chosen a table in the far corner hoping to be alone, but since it was pretty dead tonight, it looks like I wasn't really that well hidden.
"I'm not very good company right now." I desperately wanted him to take the hint and leave, but he stood there, unsure, looking about like he was lost.
"To be honest, neither am I. I've had a rough week. Misery loves company." He ran his hand over the fine, barely visible stubble on his chin. I looked closer. His shoulders were slightly slumped, and his fine suit had dust by his shoes. He did look miserable.
"All right. Maybe some company isn't so bad after all."
When he took his hat off, I was surprised at how fine and light his hair was. It was almost white. It was cut close to his head and slightly wavy. He put his sunglasses on the table and smiled at me with the bluest eyes I'd ever seen. I'd read about seas in exotic places where the waters were so clear and blue that you could see all the way to the bottom. To me, his eyes were like this. So transparent and bright. I realised I was staring and I blushed, taking a sip of my juice to do something other than look like an idiot.
"My friends call me Fox." He reached over and softly shook my hand. His skin was calloused, but soft. He obviously worked with his hands a lot. His fingers were long and tapered, suited for an instrument. His voice was like a low purr. I had the feeling he never had to yell to get anyone's attention; his was the kind of voice you just wanted to listen to.
"Eve, nice to meet you, Fox. Is that a nickname?"
He gestured the waitress over. While waiting for her, he answered, "Last name. My first name is embarrassing."
Thinking of Knight Captain Gallows of the Lyons Pride, I smiled. Gallows, fiercest, most intense man I'd ever known with the first name of Irving. I understood what Fox meant.
Fox ordered a whiskey neat, and looked at me expectantly.
"I'll just have another agave juice, thanks."
The waitress nodded and gave Fox a once-over with a very interested look in her eye. It was interesting how he didn't even give her the time of day.
"You don't drink?"
"Not often, no. Only when there's something to celebrate. Hasn't been enough of that lately." I rubbed my thumb along the glass absently.
Fox made a sympathetic sound. "Tell me about it. I came here looking to trade, but my caravan was ambushed by raiders. They killed my brahmin and took everything from me. I barely managed to make it here in one piece." He shook his head and sighed, looking sadly at the table. "All that medicine...gone." The waitress brought our drinks.
"Medicine?" That piqued my interest, being a doctor myself. "Are you a doctor?"
"No, no. I'm not smart enough for that," he laughed ruefully. "I own - owned, now I guess - a caravan with my uncle. He asked me to send his extra medical supplies to places that were short, for a small profit. I just came from Goodsprings. I was going to try to make a deal in Freeside but I only made it with the clothes on my back and a few caps."
"Wait, Goodsprings? Do you work with Doc Mitchell?" I asked excitedly. I hadn't heard from him in a few months, not that I was worried since I'd been traveling. I was eager to hear about him.
"Yes." Fox gave me a suspicious look. "Do you know him?"
"I met him a few months back. I assisted him with a surgery." I left out who the surgery was for, knowing Six's reputation, people might not take too kindly that I'd saved the life of a sadistic murderer. "He's a very kind man," I added.
"Yes, he is. We must have just missed meeting each other. To a small wasteland and meeting new friends." He held up his glass and we toasted. A few moments of comfortable silence came between us. I found myself blushing under his intense gaze. "Can I ask you why you look so…sad?"
Ah hell, Eve, take a chance, open up, a voice in my head was telling me. "I have a dream that...is proving more difficult than I thought." I found myself telling him all about Project Purity and my father. He listened so patiently, with the right sympathetic noises as I explained how I wanted a better world. "Sounds so naive, doesn't it?" I snorted. "Like the dream of a child."
"No, not at all." He reached out and put his hand on mine. "It sounds noble. It's...refreshing." There was a flutter of electricity that danced in my stomach. He slowly rubbed his thumb over my knuckles.
The Tops lounge had filled up quite a bit since we'd been talking. A live band was going on the stage. They started playing an upbeat, jazzy tune. Some couples got up to dance. I was just grateful to have something to take my mind off the fact that his hand was still on mine and he was still staring at me. I was no good in these kinds of situations. Give me a man with two gunshots to the head and I was as calm as could be. As soon as anyone took a romantic interest in me, I was like a deer in the headlights. In my experience, men were like Butch and his dumb gang, all hands and groping, like you owed them something for just being a woman. But Fox's hand was soft and patient. He wasn't staring at me anymore, but at the band. I took a moment to study him. His face was chiseled like a marble statue I'd seen in the Arlington Library. Fox's nose was long and straight. A strong nose which would overwhelm a less handsome man's face. The bottom of his nose formed a perfect 90 degree angle with his lips, the top one slightly bigger than the bottom, meeting a strong chin and sharp jaw.
Perhaps he felt me staring, because he turned and smiled slightly. He said something, but I couldn't hear over the music. "What?"
He didn't answer but stood and held out his hand, nodding to the dance floor. Taking it, he led me to the other couples. The music was fast-paced and fun. I admit I was nervous at first, but Fox easily took the lead, and guided me expertly around. I was out of breath from laughing so much. Even if I was a horrible dancer, Fox didn't seem to care. Near the end of the song, he surprised me and twirled me away from him, my dress floating up around my knees. When I spun back, he bent me down in a dip. It was graceful and frankly flattering to be partnered with an expert like that.
I laughed out of breath, not remembering having so much fun in a long time. Not fun like this, fun with someone else physically. I'd read about an dancing sport called ballet, was this what they felt like? Moving in time with the music and with another person? It was fun and intimate.
"This one's for all you lovers out there," the band's singer announced. The music started with a soft saxophone. It was a slow song.
I started to walk back towards their table, but Fox held on tight, pulling me closer. "Don't go yet," he whispered in my ear, his breath tickling the sensitive baby hairs there. I shivered. One hand held her possessively around my waist. Chest to chest, we slow danced. After a few seconds, I relaxed enough to put my head on his shoulder. He smelled like the desert, with sweat and dust, and something like leather. I was sure many men smelled similar, but for some reason it was the nicest smell I could remember. He still commanded the dance, and I could only sway with him, but it was more like a long, intimate hug than anything. We could be stepping out of time with the music for all I knew or cared.
The music came to a soft close, ending with the saxophone's gentle stop. I stayed close. Fox didn't seem to mind. It wasn't until the music started up, to a fast tempo again that I shakily stepped back. I was overcome with shyness and didn't want to make eye contact.
Fox pushed the tendrils of hair that had escaped the ribbon holding it all together "Thank you for the dance, Eve," he said softly.
"I always thought I was such a bad dancer," I replied with a lame laugh.
"Maybe you just needed the right partner." He was smiling slightly when I finally looked at him. The smile didn't reach his eyes, which were still so intense. "Would you come up to my room, Eve?"
I swallowed. I'd never done anything like this before. I could talk for hours about enzymes, and the medical properties of common plants in the area, but when it came to romance I was the first to admit I am a bit behind. I blame it on being raised in the vault, where the male prospects were less than suitable. Dad always made certain that I knew my worth, and so I aimed for better than Butch's rude comments and snide smiles. Yet, not having much male companionship had stunted me, it was true. I wasn't sure how to be flirty or play coy.
Fox must have sensed my inner battle because he stepped back and held both my hands hands gently. "You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with. Come have one drink with me."
"Okay." Okay.