August hummed lightly as she ran a cloth along the barrel of her shotgun. One of those galaxy news radio songs had weaseled its way into her mind. It was rare to have one of these relaxed days in the house she shared with Butch in Megaton; a day without confronting the horrors of the Capital Wasteland.
"Hey,"
August jumped at the sudden sound behind her. She turned and glowered at Butch, lacking a shirt, yet still having his hair in that ridiculous styled do. That bastard had grabbed enough pomade from the vault to last him forever. Even after all the shit they went through on a daily basis, he made sure his hair was to his satisfaction. "Shit, Butch," she snapped, giving her attention to her gun again. "Give a girl some warning next time."
He didn't look like he had any intentions of apologizing as he plunked down on the loveseat beside her, propping his feet on the scratched, wobbly table without a care. She cast him a glance to see him smirking, a challenge in his expression and posture, daring her to react to the invasion of personal space.
Naturally, she didn't give him that satisfaction despite noting his every breath and the eyes boring into the side of her head. She nearly lost it when she heard the sound of a packet opening followed by slow purposeful chewing.
"What a waste," she heard a mutter beside her after nearly half an hour of silence.
August turned and raised an inquisitive brow. "What?"
Butch shook his head, genuine disappointment evident on his face. "Your hair, nosebleed." He took a bright red strand in his hand, running his callused fingers through it. "You let it go to shit."
"Piss off," August flushed, ever aware of his fingers in her loose waist length hair, "We can't all be beauty queens."
With that, she tried to concentrate on her gun. The effort was futile as he continued to keep his grip on that strand of hair. She felt his breath against her cheek.
About to chastise him again, August turned only to be greeted by a smirk—a smirk that was very close to her. "You ought 'a let me do something." He muttered, icy blue eyes smoldering. She didn't know if he was talking about her hair or something entirely different.
His hand travelled to the back of her neck, tangling in the hair there. His eyes fluttered shut and she knew it was because he intended to kiss her. What she was surprised by was that she didn't hate the idea. She was so tempted to just let him do it.
She regained her senses just as his lips were about to touch hers. "Get off me." She half snapped, drawing away from him.
Butch opened his eyes and stared at her in surprise, loosening his grip on her. "Why?" There was no teasing in his voice. He seemed genuinely confused and it only served to piss her off further.
"Why?" she scoffed coldly, rising with the intention to go upstairs where she would slam the door shut behind her. "I'm not your plaything, Butch. If you want a cheap fuck, go look somewhere else."
"Hold on!" She didn't manage to escape as he rose after her and grabbed her arm adamantly. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"You heard me." She shook her arm out of his grasp.
Butch met her glare head on. The distance between them was similar to earlier, but the fire was completely different. "Is that really what you think of me, August?"
"It's what I know about you, Deloria. You don't have the capacity to want anything else."
He almost looked hurt before he gained control of his expression, shifting his features into a snarl. "Fine, then. Be a frigid bitch for all I care." He snapped, marching upstairs to the small room that was his. August stood tensely in her spot, her hands balled into fists as she heard him shuffling about.
When he reappeared in his vault suit, signature tunnel snakes jacket and a pack, she tensed further. "What the hell are you doing?" she asked as he walked past her, to the door.
Butch turned and gave her a mocking smile. "Just what you suggested. If you want me, I'll be having a cheap fuck in Rivet City." A shock went through her at those words.
She was shaking in both rage and hurt. "Why would I want you, asshole!" she screamed at his back as he opened the door and walked through. After spewing several curse words at the now closed door, she gave up and threw a nearby bottle at the wall. Dogmeat jumped at the sound and padded over to her. "Not now, boy." She stared at the shattered glass on the floor and her only thought was about replacing the wasted alcohol.
With that in mind, she went to her stores and took out a bottle of whisky. "Fuck him," she muttered angrily before she began drinking. She went through two bottles and was thoroughly wasted by that night. She shifted from bouts of crying to cursing. All while thinking of Butch making true of his word. Maybe she was drunk enough to feel regret.
Two days passed. Each day without word of him was another few bottles of booze drunk later that night. Eventually, August moved her routine to the bar, where Gob was there to listen to her outpour.
"I mean, Tunnel Snakes just fucking suck." She slurred, her head on the counter. "Don't ya think so?"
"I think you've had enough to drink." Gob replied. "Go home."
"What if I don't wanna?" August challenged. "Don't cut me off, pleease…" she drew out the word.
Gob looked at her hesitantly before groaning. "Alright, but just one more."
"Whoo hoo!" August cheered. "See, I'm not a frigid bitch." She said victoriously. "I can have fun."
Before she could down the drink presented to her, she was interrupted by someone clearing their throat, "What?" she growled, turning slightly in her stool.
The one interrupting her was a ragged looking man. "You're the gal that does odd jobs around here, right?"
"If the job pays well…" August grinned.
The man nodded hurriedly, looking very desperate. "It will, I promise."
"Promises aren't good enough, pal."
"An advance then, of 500 caps. I'll give you double on your return. "
That caught August's attention, sobering her up a bit. "Now we can talk." she took the bag of caps. "What's the job?" she asked seriously.
The man took a seat next to her and waved Gob away when the ghoul came to take his order. "There is an old hospital filled with preserved pre-war meds." He handed August a piece of paper with a list of medications. "I need these, but I can't dare to go by myself knowing how dangerous the area is. I'm not a fighter."
"Are you a doctor?" August asked, looking at the list.
"No, I got this list from the doctor at the clinic." The man explained. "They're for my daughter. She's very sick and the doctor says these are her best hope."
She felt sympathy for the weathered looking man. "Church is good at his job. When I get these to him, your daughter will end up just fine."
"Thank you. Thank you so much."
The next morning, August lingered in her Megaton house, a part of her expecting her usual travelling companion. "Fuck it. If he decides to come back, he can wait." She announced to Dogmeat. She said this, but inside she was afraid. After their spat, he may have decided to never come back. She wished she could be as apathetic about it as she was before, but found that the idea… hurt.
It didn't matter now. A woman in the wasteland could only survive with a steady income. With her shotgun propped on her back, and her dog beside her, August set out for the abandoned hospital. The Capital Wasteland was a desolate, wild mess. But she saw a beauty in it that only someone who had been trapped in a vault for nineteen years could see.
As they walked, there was silence. An absence. Normally, she and Butch never shut up. She missed their banter, even when it ended up pissing one of them off. Damn it, she thought. I was wrong, wasn't I?
She tried her best to try not to care about anyone. Not after her father died, trapped behind glass that she pounded her fists against even as they bled and he faded. She had steeled her heart then, knowing that such pain could be avoided again if she just stopped caring.
Had she grown to care for Butch? She wasn't supposed to. Their relationship started out as one of mutual convenience. Over time, they became partners and then dare she say friends, watching each other's backs. Whatever there was may not have mattered anymore. She had probably driven him away for good.
"We're here, boy." August smiled grimly at the roughened building from their position on an overlooking hill.
After scouting the area with her sharp eyes, she proceeded to enter the hospital from the front door. There were no signs of raiders or super mutants from the looks of it, but that didn't mean that she didn't need to proceed with caution.
She gave a low whistle as she entered. Damn, the guy was right. The stuff in here was preserved. The shelves full of meds were a goldmine. Even with the stuff on the list, there would be a shit ton left over for her to sell later.
As she began to pick up vials and containers that matched with the names on the piece of paper she was holding, a loud noise rang out from outside of the door she had just entered in. Dogmeat growled lowly, looking to the main door.
August froze, something just registering in her mind with the arrival of the sound and the slow beginnings of loud voices coming closer. How convenient was it for a fortune's worth of goods to just be sitting there, fully preserved and with no danger in sight? How had no one discovered this location? How did that scrappy man conveniently know about this place?
The answer spelled out trap.
"Shit," she swore under her breath, putting what she had collected into her bag and hurriedly pulling out her shotgun. As she loaded it, her eyes scanned the main floor for any other doors. She ran to the end to see that the back exit was boarded up real nicely. "Shit," she groaned again, punching the board and looking to the main door, the only way out.
Her mind was working quickly as she assessed the situation. Quickly, she turned back to the boarded door in front of her and attempted to kick out some of the boards. They were pretty well done, but she was able to clear out a Dogmeat sized hole at the bottom.
"Listen boy," she crouched beside him, burying a hand in the fur behind his ears. "You need to leave. Go back to Megaton and wait there for me." Dogmeat whined in protest. August removed her hand and pointed to the hole. "Now." She ordered sharply. If she couldn't talk or fight her way out of this one, then at least Dogmeat would be alright.
Dogmeat lingered as she turned her back, but she heard the sound of him padding away. August propped her shotgun in preparation and moved to hide behind a pillar.
The doors slammed open rudely, and three raiders walked in. "Where are you, bitch!" the one leading them called out, firing a shot into the ceiling.
August responded by giving him a clean shot in the head.
As he fell back into his brain splatter, more raiders poured in through the doors. She paled as she saw the sheer number of them. There were at least twenty. If she were in a more strategic position instead of being caged in like this or even had the element of surprise, she could have taken care of them.
She ground her teeth together and prepared to give them as much hell as she could.
…
August awoke groggily, unaware of anything save for the pain in the back of her head. Her eyes forced themselves open and saw her lap from the hunched position her neck was in. She straightened her neck to get a better view of her surroundings. Perhaps it was because it was so dark, or merely because she still needed to adjust to the lighting, but she couldn't make much of the room out.
A few moments in this state passed before she realised that her wrists and legs were tightly bound to the arms and legs of a chair. With what strength she could summon, she struggled against the bounds only to hiss as she steel wire cut into her skin further.
"Just great," she muttered, slumping in defeat. She waited for half an hour, repeatedly trying to weaken the hold of her constraints with no results. Eventually the silence in the air was broken by the sounds of footsteps coming towards her.
"Ah, the hero of the Wasteland is awake." A bulky raider stepped in front of her, a grin lighting his ugly, scarred face up. "That's what you think you are, right? A damn hero?"
"I usually just do things for caps." August lied with a smirk, looking the raider in the eyes. "But hey, hero sounds pretty cool too."
He backhanded her roughly. "We'll take care of that smart mouth of yours, bitch." He threatened.
She spit out a mouthful of blood onto his face. She thought he was going to hit her again, but he merely wiped his cheek with his sleeve. An almost gleeful look crossed his face. "You really fell for it," he laughed. "Did ya feel bad for a sick little girl?" he mocked, crouching in front of her. "Wanted to help her Daddy save her life with some nice medicine?"
August's cheek throbbed, but she ignored it as she stared at him apathetically. "Helped that he gave me caps. I guess I should've known it was too good to be true." She slapped herself mentally for falling for that man's sympathetic story. "But now I have to wonder what gives me the honour of being here? What have I ever done to you?" she asked, matching his mocking tone.
She caught his face twist into a nasty snarl before she recoiled at another punch. "You bitch!" Another punch. "Acting like you're all innocent after murdering a whole bunch of us without a care!" Smack.
August had lost all her breath at this point, but still managed to weakly laugh, "As if you bastards actually give a shit about each other."
"You're right," Another voice broke out. Another raider walked into the room, thinner and scrappier then his partner, but still a commanding presence. "It's more of a principle thing. Besides, you're just a damn pain in the ass. Avenging all you've killed will help with morale too." He smiled to reveal yellow teeth. "Leave this to me." He said to the other raider.
"Have fun." The first raider said, turning to leave, but not before giving a vicious grin towards August's direction.
August swallowed as she saw him pull a cart forth with various jagged weaponry. He ran his hand over various devices before settling on a pair of pliers. "Please," August said in a fragile voice. "Could you please…. shove that up your ass." She asked, refusing to break eye contact as he approached her.
He ignored her. "I want to hear you scream, bitch."
"You see, when I look at your ugly mug, my first reaction isn't to scream, but to puke." August said casually. "Unfortunately, I seem to have nothing in my stomach to upchuck. I guess that means I must have been here for a few days, right?"
"Shut up," he scowled.
She smirked. "I thought you wanted me to scream."
Her smile slid off her face as he roughly shoved one side of the pliers underneath one of her fingernails.
To give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry out was not something she wanted to do. So she bit her lip harshly, drawing blood as he slowly and gruesomely ripped out her fingernail. "Bastard," she gasped out as it was finally over.
"I don't care how tough you think you are," he seemed to be enjoying himself. "I'll crack you."
He took two more fingernails, seeming to choose them at random, going slower with each nail. Her instinct was to scream her lungs out each time, but she held check of herself. He finally chucked the bloody pliers across the room, probably having grown bored with this method of torture.
August didn't have time to summon the energy for a retort before pain blossomed in her left arm with the sound of a sickening crack. She finally did scream as he carelessly twisted her limp, broken arm further. She saw dark spots in her vision as he continued to put pressure on her arm.
"I'll save your other limbs for later," he said, a victorious note in his voice.
She was left in the dark, feeling nothing but pain and fury as she slowly started to fade. Her arm was a horrid sight, twisted in a way that was not natural, broken in a few places. Gingerly, she tested the motion in her grotesque looking arm by wiggling it and muffled a pained scream at the fresh pain that unleased.
She fell in and out of consciousness, giving her a warped perspective on her sense of time. It had felt like forever since she had been sitting in this damned room but she really didn't know how long she had been left alone. A few hours? A day? A week?
Eventually, she gained company once more. "Miss me?" it was the first raider, the one who had gloated so arrogantly to her. August wanted nothing but to put a bullet between his eyes.
She would have spat at him, but her mouth was terribly dry. None of them had given her food or water in her stay here and she was feeling it.
However, she forgot about her hunger as the torture began again. This one clearly had no creativity as he continued to beat at her face, chest, and stomach with his large fists. Punches were easier to take, but drained her of all her energy. Her face was swollen and her jaw and nose were most definitely broken. So were a few of her ribs, from the feel of it. After a while, it almost stopped hurting. All she could register was the muted thuds of his fists. "Stop it!" she groggily registered another voice snap. "Do you wanna kill her?"
Why didn't they just kill her? She found herself wondering this before she faded once more.
The one who liked her fingernails so much was back the next time she woke up. This time, he had a burning poker.
As he pressed the heated metal against her broken arm, August realised she was so very glad that she and Butch had fought. She couldn't bear the thought of having to see him face this.
She screamed her throat raw from the most horrible pain that she had ever felt. The bastard only laughed as he pressed the metal into her arm further.
She wanted nothing but to be dead as the pain finally began to cease. "Nothing smart to say now, huh?" her broken jaw was gripped roughly and then released. "Sleep well, bitch. Next time I come by, I'll carve my name into you."
With a dry throat and weak voice, she summoned the strength to say "Fuck… you."
August blacked out with a punch to the head.
She couldn't open her eyes the next time she heard footsteps. She tensed the muscles in her body as they grew louder, shuddering in preparation for the torture that awaited. Strangely, the footsteps didn't grow closer. And was that the sound of gunshots? Perhaps she was just delirious.
August could feel herself losing consciousness just as loud footsteps thundered down the stairs.
"Shit, shit… no!"
What a comforting voice. If she was to die now, she wouldn't hate it. The thought of being taken down by scum like raiders was an infuriating one. But it was what awaited her, was it not? Especially with all the enemies she had made. It was only a matter of time someone came after her in revenge. If she had to choose, she would have preferred going down in the fight rather than being captured. At least it would soon be over.
"August!" callused hands grabbed her bruised face, causing her to release a quiet whimper. "Wake up, dammit!" the voice was panicked.
"That's not going to help," a calmer voice intercepted. The first voice swore loudly in response. August barely registered the sensation of her bounds being cut and being enveloped by warmth.
The next time she came around, she was surprised to feel that she was lying in a bed. She willed herself to open her eyes, which took a few moments. The yellowish light in Doc Church's clinic was still enough to be blinding to her after so long in the dark.
Her first instinct was to try and get up, which she discovered was a mistake as pain washed over several parts of her body, most specifically her arm. She remembered how it had looked before it was wrapped up tightly and put in a cast and felt nauseous at the thought.
Her other hand was very warm, being loosely gripped. She turned and felt a lump in her throat to see Butch sitting in a chair beside the bed she was laying in, fast asleep. She inspected him quietly for a moment, debating whether or not to wake him.
A bark distracted her as Dogmeat rushed to her and padded onto the bed. "Careful," she winced as he brushed against her ribs. Despite this, she buried her face in his fur and felt reassured.
This commotion woke Butch with a start. He and August looked at each other for a long moment in silence before August finally smiled with her split lip. "Hey Butch-man, you look like shit."
It was partially true. He had deep dark circles beneath his eyes and looked pale. He hadn't tended to his hair, causing some of it to fall limply into his eyes and it didn't look like he'd shaved in a few days.
He looked stunned before scowling at her. "Like you're one to talk, nosebleed."
"This time it wasn't you who did a number on my face, huh."
"It was one time!" he protested like he normally did when she brought that incident of them as kids. But a serious look crossed his face as he inspected her. "Dammit." He muttered, tightening his grip on her hand. "What were you thinking, going on a job like that by yourself."
"Gotta work," she shrugged, wincing at the pain the motion brought.
"You could have waited for me."
August met his fiery gaze. "I didn't know if you'd come back." She admitted softly. A silent question lingered in the air. "Besides," she said in a lighter tone, turning her attention to Dogmeat, "Even if you were there, we'd have still fallen into that trap."
"You don't know that." He shook his head. "I was real pissed after that fight," he began to explain. "By the time I made it to Rivet City, I'd cooled down a bit and turned right around. You weren't there but the dog was, barking like crazy."
"You couldn't have raided that place alone." August's eyes widened.
"C'mon, have a little faith in my skills." He smirked. At her look, he rolled his eyes. "Alright, the Brotherhood helped out."
"That was Sarah I heard then." She muttered.
They were silent for the next few minutes, but he kept his hold on her hand. She found more comfort in that little action then she would ever admit to him.
"Are you ready to talk?" Butch asked bluntly, breaking the silence.
August huffed. "You really wanna do this now?"
"Don't see why not," Butch shrugged. "At least you won't run away again."
"You're the one who ran away!" August turned her head to snap at him.
Her rage was interrupted by a sharp burst of pain in her arm which caused her to gasp. "Hold on, I'll get the doc," Butch said, the tone of his voice oddly familiar.
She clung on to his hand as he rose, causing him to give her an inquisitive look. "Butch… I-I'm glad you came back." She said quietly, with vulnerability neither of them had heard before.
His eyes softened as he rubbed her palm with his thumb. "Yeah, me too."
She watched him go and began to feel incredibly drowsy. Wrapping her good arm around Dogmeat, she shut her eyes and fell into a sleep that was much more comfortable with the warmth of her dog.
Her dreams were not pleasant as she fell through a spiral of recollections of torture. Scream, bitch. She heard over and over again as he used her as a punching bag. She jolted awake as she began to get burned in her dream and bit down on her fist to stifle her scream.
Her breathing was terribly ragged and she felt wetness on her cheeks that burned the wounds on her face. As soon as she trusted herself not to scream, she furiously wiped her cheeks.
"August?" Butch blearily asked. She must have woken him up. "Hey," he looked at the state of her and sat up straighter in his chair, reaching a hand out to her hesitantly before drawing it back.
"It's nothing," she controlled her voice, forcing it to come out in her defensive apathetic tone.
"Don't pull that shit with me."
She turned to the other side as best as she could without disturbing her arm or the sleeping dog lying half on top of her. "Just go back to the house."
He never did what she told him to. Instead, she felt further weight on the bed beside her and a hand softly stroke her hair. "What did they do to you?" he asked quietly. "My ma always said it gets better if you talk about it." He said sheepishly.
She drew a long shuddering breath. "You can see what they did for yourself." The black and blue patterns scattered across most of her body should have been indication enough.
"Shit advice, I guess." He sighed.
August hesitated before choosing her impulsive desire. She turned back towards him and rested her head on his shoulder. He seemed surprised at first, but shuffled so that they were both lying a bit more comfortably.
Nothing more needed to be said between them as Butch wrapped an arm around her waist gently. She nuzzled her head into the sleeve of his shirt and sighed. He smelled of the closest thing to home that she knew of. The smell of cigarettes, pomade, and leather had never been more comforting.
They would argue about all that had happened later, there was no doubt about that. But at that moment, they gave into peace.