July 13th 2258, Jefferson Memorial Washington D.C.
The first thing I thought when I peered down at the little pink bundle screeching in Madison's hands was;
She's beautiful, Catherine. She's utterly beautiful.
"A girl! A girl, Catherine! A beautiful, healthy baby girl!" I declare and Catherine sighs deeply; the excitement is so clear on her face. I reach over and touch her pale, sweat-drenched face; exhausted as she is, she is still the loveliest creature to me. I brush away one of those pale strands of hair as she closes her eyes to my touch, trying to regain her breath.
The work, the project, all the toil that we'd went through, all that we had sacrificed. Put on hold. It was worth it. My God, it was so worth it.
Darling, she's perfect.
My mind reeled, but my voice was filled with utter wonderment as I leaned over Madison's shoulder to place a hand upon the blood-stained brow of our little baby girl.
"I'm your Daddy, sweetheart." I cooed gently, "Daddy."
I stressed my new title as if the baby would pipe it back at me, but no. Those black eyes just stared, just as amazed with me as I was with her. There we both were; captivated with one another and I heard myself chuckle and simper, "Look at you...look at you!" The little girl yawned then, her mouth becoming cavernous, completely blasé with the fact that she had just been born.
"You're going to have a bright future ahead of you...what kind of person are you going to be?"
No answer, not that I expected one, surely. But her eyes focused, those black orbs were sharp and I felt myself shiver at the look my baby gave me. It was almost comprehending the way she stared up at me and for the first time; five minutes into her life I was proud of her.
A mechanical whir resonated behind me; the screen lowered itself until it was situated just behind my shoulder. The RobCo Gene Projection Machine's screen flickered on and I smiled behind my surgical mask and said chirpily,
"Looks like they've finished the gene projection. Let's see what you're going to look like when you're all grown up, darling."
Again, the machine's screen jumped and then flickered until a face was there looking down at the baby. My grin was genuine; to see my baby girl all grown and looking just so much like myself was breathtaking.
Catherine's sharp intake of breath came next and I felt my darling wife take my hand and squeeze it feebly. I was too excited to notice just how little strength my Catherine had.
"Oh James!" She breathed; I turned to her as she smiled a little dazed, there were tears in her eyes.
"Our beautiful daughter...just like her Daddy."
The girl in the screen was dark of hair, just like me, dark of eyes and pale of skin. Her nose was small and upturned a pink and twitchy sweet little thing like her mother's. The young woman had lips that were full and vulnerable, I could scarcely believe just how lovely a picture my little girl would become and I could feel the emotion prickling my face, making it hot. My throat nearly contracted and I squeezed Catherine's clammy hand in return.
"She looks just how I pictured her, James...We did it!"
I laughed and glanced back to the baby girl and said happily, "You're going to look a lot like your dad!"
My girl's keen eyes flicked over to her mother and remained there. Catherine's clear blue eyes were foggy, but she smiled her delightful smile and extended her hand to her baby.
"Hello, sweetheart."
She uttered thickly as the child's brow creased slightly at the hand offered, and I watched enamoured beyond my own ken with the two women of my life. The dark-headed little girl gripped my wife's index finger tightly and smiled. Ten minutes into her life and she had smiled beautifully for her Mummy.
My heart began to ache to see them both and I leaned over the baby, drawing her attention for a moment as Catherine turned her head and swallowed hard, her breath seemed to be shortening.
"You're going to need a name," I said to the nameless child before me.
"Your mother and I have been talking. What do you think about Phillipa?"
Phillipa frowned and kicked her little pudgy legs anxiously. I nodded; we had decided to name her after Catherine's beloved grandmother whom she had loved very much before she died. "That's a good name, don't you think?" The baby's gaze darted around and she looked at her mother.
My Catherine had gone awfully quiet.
"Suits you perfectly. Now-"
"James!"
Phillipa began to squeal. The heart monitor began to beep loudly, drowning out everything. Catherine's voice was breathy and laboured as she struggled to speak. Grasping my arm, she managed haltingly,
"James, honey...Something...something's not..."
Something was not right.
"She's in cardiac arrest! Start compressions!" My eyes bulged; I turn and spit at Madison, unkindly and rushed, "Get the baby out of here! Move!" Madison nods and rushes our child from the room.
My child.
She's mine now and mine alone.
We're alone now. I'm alone. Alone, all but for the dramatic black eyes which stare up at me so dependently. I feel a tear escape my eye as the gravity of the situation I now find my girl and myself in and I pick up the warm bundle, my little Phillipa.
"What do I do now?"
I ask the alert child in my arms and she idly shakes her head and peers up at me.
She has not smiled yet for me. I wonder if she ever will...Oh, Catherine. My dear, dear Catherine. God saw fit to take you away from me...our daughter, our work...our life.
Another tear, this time accompanied by a rattling sob. I miss her more than I can bare and I look at my child again.
Our eyes meet for what must be the umpteenth time since she's been born. They are the very same as mine; same shape, same colour with a sweep of long ebony lashes. I remember the girl in the gene projector and I begin to smile. While I grin like a fool at my daughter she giggles. The sound is so sweet and so innocent that I stop smiling; I know my face is severe; Catherine would chide me for it sometimes when I would be grumpy with her. My daughter does not seem to care; laughing hysterically at something only a baby would find terribly funny, but even her gurgles of joy cannot wipe the stern look from my face.
"I have to keep you safe."
May 21st 2258, Vault 101
The lights are blinding.
Blinking, I cradle Phillipa as she tugs at my hair laughing all the while as she does. I try to remain stoic for the Overseer's benefit but I fear that a smile tugs at my lips right along with the tugging at my dark hair.
"Stop it, honey." I say as I gently pull my daughter's hand away from my head.
"You will stay here, close to the clinic."
"That will be fine," My eyes stray and the Overseer's dark brow rises,
"Something wrong, Doctor?"
"Oh, no. Thank you, Overseer. This will do perfectly."
I can hear the shudder in my own voice as I say this. Everything is so clean and sterile here in Vault 101, but...Anything is better than what is out there. I look at Phillipa. She mustn't ever go out there.
The Overseer is standing with his back to us; he is washing his hands. With clean water. Fresh and sparkling...
God, Catherine...Forgive me, but our girl...
I peer back to the Overseer. He's an aged man, but I doubt he's that much older than myself. I'd say that the toil of leadership has taken its toll on him. Dark of skin with suspicious hazel eyes, his hair is nothing but a light dusting of white atop his head.
He holds out a package and says stiffly,
"Welcome to Vault 101, Doctor. I hope you will come to call this vault home in time."
He bids us farewell, and little Phillipa gurgles a babbling goodbye in baby speech. The Overseer does not even so much as smirk before he departs; his spine just as rigid as his tone.
The package is propped underneath under my arm, barely balancing. I click my tongue and set Phillipa down on the cold metallic floor. Just shy of a year and she's already standing on sure feet; she blinks up and I put the package down on the bed; inside is my new uniform. Bright luminous yellow digits indicating 101 are printed on the back of a set of bright sky-blue jumpsuits and there is a crisp white lab coat. It's strange that the lab coat should hurt my heart, but it does. So I look away.
Phillipa has found a cabinet and is making a project of trying to get in one of the drawers head-first.
"No, honey! Honey!" I fret but she's in already, squealing as her legs are almost vertical. Panic buzzes through me as I pull her free, but when I have her in my arms face-to-face with me, she's laughing. I chuckle too, never in all my life have I seen such a happy little fellow. I love her so much.
"It's just you and me now, kiddo...you and me."
I know in my tone there is melancholy, but the mirth of my darling daughter blots out any of that.
I am thankful for it.
9th of January 2259, Vault 101
Vault 101's residents have been kind enough. Old Lady Palmer has knitted Phillipa a closet's worth of booties and vests, she is a sweet old lady and Phillipa seems to like her a lot. Her grandson, however, Jonas, is who I am really interested in. He's one of the few brilliant minds in this vault...I daresay, the only one. He's young and ambitious, he wants to become a doctor and I have decided to take him under my wing. I think he has great prospects for the future.
The Overseer seems suspicious of me. I know very well why and it would be naive of me to expect any less, but, he does allow his own daughter, Amata, to have play-dates with Philly – they seem to get along famously. She's a lovely little thing, Amata. Just like Phillipa, she's always smiling. I would make a comment about her and her father being incompatible, but I must reserve judgement for the moment, it's only been a year since we came here, to this Vault 101.
I'm not sure that I am entirely comfortable where the Overseer has placed us, to be perfectly honest. The other residents of the block of apartments we are in are...loud. The mother, Ellen, I think is her name seems to be a drinker.
She has a son, a little scallion of a lad; he's barely older than Phillipa and seems to be being affected by his mother's ailment. I found her slumped outside her apartment door the other night as I returned from the clinic. I helped her indoors and to my surprise, the boy, Butch, wasn't even in the slightest bit startled at the state of his mother.
I pity the boy, he must feel very alienated from his mother...Perhaps there is something I can prescribe to Mrs. DeLoria? She says that she drinks heavily because she cannot sleep...but I fear that this is just her excuse and that she may be suffering from VDS (Vault Depressive Syndrome).
VDS seems to be quite predominate in here...I am frightened for Phillipa.
My head rises from the terminal that I am squinting at; I check the time, it is three forty-five in the morning. I wipe my eyes sluggishly. Poor Beatrice.
I gather up my things and shut the terminal off before I make my way back to our quarters. The moment the door to my apartment rises I see that Beatrice has fallen asleep on the little green sofa in the living area; I clear my throat quietly and gently shake her shoulder.
"Beatrice?" Her eyes flutter open and she smiles,
"Oh, Doctor. Hello, what time is it? I must have nodded off for a moment there..."
"It's ten to four, maybe you should head back now and thank you for watching Phillipa for me."
The younger lady beams and waves a hand at my thanks,
"Oh it's no problem, Doctor. That girl is such a sweetie. And I want to help in any way I can! After all it must be difficult for a young father to take on so much."
I smile. Beatrice is only being kind I know, and I would not turn away help where it's needed, but I can look after my own child, but things at the clinic have been...hectic.
"That's my way of saying "any time"." She adds with a small nod before she gets up and waves her goodbyes. Exhausted, I fall heavily onto the sofa and sigh.
Three births in as many months! Before Philly I had never delivered a child before and to revisit such a...memory again was nearly too much. But my patients must come first and if I want to remain here in the vault then I'll have to pull my weight. Phillipa is depending on her Daddy...
With that thought I can feel sleep overtaking me.