Chapter 1

How long had this been coming, this battle that coursed deep inside him? It was the one that reared its ugly head when someone pushed him too far, when words that he deemed insulting where thrown at him and threats were not taken lightly anymore. When the match had been struck and the fuse lit, it tapped the cord setting off a chain of events that were out of his control. It was only a matter of time before the demons would refuse to stay caged inside, there constant pushing and shoving broke there hold, the clawing and grating could no longer be tamed. They would finally have their chance to unleash their true rage, show everyone what the he was really capable of. So when that time finally came all the anger, pain and hurt that had been locked up for 20 years just exploded into a dizzying fit of rage.

Everything happened so quickly, so sudden that when the fuse lit everything went black, all he could hear was the blood pounding in his head, thudding viciously as the air around him muffled, darkening, disorientated. There was nothing, his vision wouldn't focus on his surroundings, his body weightless as he felt it hurtle towards something solid, the rush of air against his skin, mumbled cries tried to find their way to his ears but determination of his will to unleash the monster cradled away the beckoning screams. It was only till his heard the stern and familiar voice booming through the thick air that he finally came back to his senses. By then it was far too late.

His whole body tensed, hands flexed round something that was comfortable to him, it clasped easily within his palm, a part of him, something that moved in sync with him. The heaving in his chest was heavy and rapid, an almost panicked motion to the rise and fall of his chest. Slowly his vision came into focus eyes darting at the crowd that had gathered round, some shouting, demanding, crying. He shot them a puzzled frown as he came to realise that the cries where aimed to him, the threats and shouts rose, tearing at his senses trying to piece together what was going on. Trailing his eyes round them as the semi circled round something, his sight fell to where the majority of the crowd where watching. To the bloodied body which was slumped against the cold, harsh metal of the ship, awkwardly twisted into a shape that no human should be able to make. His eyes wide, frenzied, he finally let them drift down to the clenched hand. Blood, it was everywhere. His jacket splattered with the deep liquid, dripping from his hand down to the tip if the weapon. Toothpick, it used to feel so comfortable and secure, but now it was foreign. The one thing that linked to a part of him that he knew nothing about, was now part of him he didn't want to be.

He could hear the gurgled gasps of air, choking on thick blood the air ways desperate to try and grasp at the ait around him, failing slowly in its attempt. As Preston cradled his head he curled his fingers round the kids hand which had clutched the wound in a feeble effort to trying and stop the bleeding. Concerned eyes looked past him, shaking his head softly he let it fall back to the boy adjust his form so the disjointed limbs appeared now more comfortable. What did he mean no? There was no chance, he couldn't have? He fought but he never killed anyone, not in the Rudder. The firm hold on his shoulder grasped on to leather, tugged at him gently but nothing was happening. His body refused to move, forcing him to watch the scene in front of him, making him see the damage that he'd done. He wasn't doing this again. He wasn't staying to watch someone else die from his hand.

That voice again, concerning and soft, coaxing him away from the scene. Uttering his name, one he heard before many times, the same voice but a tone he had not heard before, laced with uncertainty, he didn't know what to do. No, his body wanted him to stay; it demanded him to see what he'd done. To put the pieces together and realise that the day he knew would come, had done exactly that. That one day all that mixture of emotions would spew forth at the complete wrong time, he just thought that damage would have been to himself not someone else.

Finally he felt the release, everything eased up. But time slowed, letting him engrave every single moment in vivid detail. Ted's breathes rasping, the bubbling of blood in the back of his throat as he gargled on the thick substance. The over powering smell of blood hung around him, choking, heavy it drowned all his senses till it fell upon his tongue, the taste of metal tinged his lips and throat not allowing him any escape. Screaming and shouting from the crowd ripped through his head, spiking painful words of hurt in his brain. Trinnie's wails ricochet off the walls piercing the air around him, mumbles of disappointment fell on deaf ears as he tried to block out the onslaught of abuse that was thrown his way. Harkness's words in his ear, they were soothing, telling him to leave, that it wasn't safe. The occasional booming erupted at the crowd trying to get them to remain calm but at the same time putting all his effort into getting Butch to move away from the wreckage. But none of it audible, it was but a sense of tone that he could tell what he was say but the words were incoherent, sad and calming. The blade slipped from his fingertips, his sight cast down watching it drifted from his clasp, metal sliding across flesh and slowly drop to the floor. The sharp pang echoed as it bounced on the floor teetering a moment before rocking against the metal to a standstill. Gently the Chiefs hands tried to wrestling him to the ground ushering him to his knees, he was doing his job, no matter what Butch was to him he had to deal with him, and it would take more than throwing him in the cells or the Potomac. He couldn't put that upon him, he couldn't do that to himself, watch as he dealt out his punishment. What would it be, exile, a sentence in the cells, death? Could Harkness do that too him? It was his job after all Butch knew that that came first but would he be able to go as far as taking him down. No, he couldn't die knowing that it was him that had to do it, so he resisted, violently bucking against the restraints desperate to flee the mess that was before him and that clearly was going to await him. Clawing at the Pip-boy he felt the trigger release, the contraption hurtling to the floor as he reached up, tugging at the zipper the grating sound that usually held so much promise now meant only one thing. Escape. He slipped from the jacket like a snake darting through the grass, smooth and quick, out of the Chiefs clutches.

He'd never run so fast, tearing through the corridors, crashing into the walls at every turn, throwing residents and debris out of the way, determination the only thing on his mind. The thudding of feet and demands of return followed close behind him. No, he couldn't go back there, he wasn't going to stay to see all their faces. He could imagine it, the look of horror in Maria's eye, the disappointment on Harkness's brow he didn't need to see it. He didn't want too.

Finally the bridge door came to view, how many where following him now he didn't know but he wasn't willing to find out. When he pushed through he slammed the door shut locking it behind him and calling the bridge. He fell back against it waiting for it to swig round, the pounding of fists and the calls of his name where ignored. He couldn't go back; he couldn't face what he had done. Sure he had killed before but Ted was innocent, just a kid with a bad chem habit. He'd done nothing wrong apart from be the unlucky one, in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The bridge connected but his body didn't move. Something held him back, keeping him from crossing. That voice pleading him to come back a mixture of the Chief and Harkness all rolled into one tone. He went to run his hands up through his hair, but paused as the deep red that drowned them caught his eyes. He couldn't go back, not now. Turning he placed a hand on the door leaving a crimson imprint behind, listening to the sound of his voice one last time before darting across the bridge.