"Son? Are you down there?" The deep, kind voice echoed in the halls of Vault 101. Ryan began to panic and scrambled to put the crates back in place.
The sound of scrabbling legs against the cold metal floor and walls of the cage they were kept in echoed through the underbelly of that great series of tunnels. The boy, who was barely six years old with a mess of chestnut hair obscuring his face, jumped to his feet to greet the tall man in the doorway.
"Ryan, what are you doing down here? You know this area is off limits." He walked towards the little boy and knelt down to look him in the eyes. Ryan sniffed and wiped his face with a sleeve.
"I know, Dad. I'm sorry." The chubby kid kept his eyes firmly on the ground. He didn't dare lift his gaze for fear of all the trouble he was going to be in. His father frowned and placed a hand on Ryan's shoulder.
"What's the matter, kiddo? Why are you down here?" The man's soft hazel eyes drifted over to the pile of empty cans of two-hundred year old lunchmeat. "And what's that about?"
Ryan's eyes began to sting a little bit, a lump developing in his throat. He knew that his dad could tell he was hiding something, but he needed to keep this secret so badly. If anyone found out… He didn't want to think about it.
"Ryan. I need you to tell me the truth. What are you doing down here?" His gentle voice was firm now. The boy turned his head to face his father and looked through milk bottle lenses into those soft old eyes, unable to stand the pressure anymore.
"I-I'm s-sorry, Dad, I wuh-wanted to t-tell you, but the Overseer was g-gonna be angry about it an-and I d-d-don't wanna lose my b-b-buh-" Ryan dissolved into hysterical sobbing, lifting a chubby hand to wipe his now bloodshot eyes. A look of concern and profound sadness crossed his father's face and the delicate little boy felt himself being pulled into a warm, comforting hug. "It's okay, son," he heard his dad say softly. "You can tell me when you're ready to. Not a second sooner."
It took a few minutes of the gentle embrace and some soft rocking back and forth before Ryan's sobs began to fade out. Sniffling and rubbing his eyes, he pulled away from the kind man and took in a deep breath, waddling over to the crates the way only a rotund six year old can. He pulled one away to reveal a huge brown insect which hissed and chattered, shaking its antenna frantically in fear. It was missing a leg, but had been carefully bandaged up. Ryan's father raised his eyebrows and looked down at his curious little boy, who was now beaming with pride through his tears.
"His name's Jacob an-and he's my bestest friend!" He grinned, all of the previous upset seemingly forgotten. "I found him down here when I was…" he hesitated before continuing, "… well, when I was hiding down here." He took a deep breath, ready to continue with his story before he was stopped by his father's inquiring gaze.
"Wait a second, kiddo. You were hiding? From who?" He ran a hand through his greying hair. Ryan shifted uncomfortably and looked down at his feet before bending down to pick up the reproach for a cuddle.
"… Butch chased me down here. He was picking on me again."
Ryan's dad furrowed his brow. "How long has he been picking on you? If you want me to have a word with his mother, I can."
"No! No, that'll just make things worse. He'll find out and then he'll be even meaner to me." Ryan sighed. "I usually just come down here when he picks on me. I found Jacob when I was down here… he was pretty hurt. He'd lost a leg an-and he was hungry and he couldn't run away… I gave him some cake left over from my birthday party and patched him up with some of your bandages. I guess he just took a shine to me, 'cause he started following me around after that." He sniffled again, obvious tears starting to make his eyes glisten once again. The menace-turned-companion jumped out of his hands and helped itself to some of the canned food on the floor, leaving its master to thrust his hands into his pockets and shift awkwardly.
His father sighed. "Ryan, you know that radroaches are pests, not pets. They breed rapidly enough as it is without you feeding them." He stood up and ran a hand through his greying hair, a million questions running through his mind. "I didn't even know they could be domesticated."
"I only feed Jake! I don't let any of the others touch his food! Please let me keep him, Dad, please, he's no trouble and he really likes me and I can talk to him about everything. He doesn't care that I'm weird or a freak or a dork, and he likes cake just as much as I do!" He threw himself at his father, clinging to the tall man's legs as though his young life depended upon it. "Please let me keep him, Dad, pleeeease!"
Another deep sigh and the greying gentleman knelt down to pick his son up and put him on his shoulders. "Alright, champ. We've got to keep Jake a secret though, right? So don't tell anyone else about him."
He felt the little boy nod his round head violently, chin connecting with the top of the older man's skull. "You know, you're your mother's child. She always had a soft spot for underdogs and runts." A fond smile crossed his face.
"Is that why she married you?" Just when he thought his little boy was the sweetest, most unassuming lad in the whole world, the git said something like that.
"Hey, cheeky. Is that what I get for letting you keep your little pet?" He chuckled regardless. "Right, let's leave your little buddy to it. I know a certain entomologist-in-the-making who deserves some pancakes…"
