Chapter Two

It was funny how in a vault full of people you could still be completely isolated. Perhaps funny wasn't the right word, ironic, maybe? Unbelievable? Zoey wasn't sure how someone else would describe her life, but she knew that isolated would be one of the main descriptors.

She had never had many friends. Amata during their younger years would play with her and talk to her at school, but as they got older it became clear that the Overseer's daughter, although friendly, was more interested in becoming friends with the popular girls, like Susie Mack. It almost felt like by the time they were sixteen that Amata's interest in her was nothing more than some need to be nice to everyone. Zoey couldn't help but resent her for it.

Still, after the GOAT results sent their class in different directions, she barely saw the girl or really any of her counterparts. While they went on to be engineers, supervisors, security, and whatever else, she was tasked with being the person to clean up the messes after everyone had already left. Empty halls and rooms became all that she saw most days, trash cans and a broom her only companions. Even when she got home her father, like he had most of her childhood, was rarely there. Work was more important than caring for her. He could call her sweetheart and honey all he wanted, but one birthday party at ten and a few little endearments couldn't make up for a lifetime of playing second fiddle to whatever it was he and Jonas labored over for years. So rather than feeling love and respect towards her only parent she was filled with an angry bitterness that ate away at her day after day.

Sweeping the empty hall that led to a rarely used lounge area, she let her mind wander to all the attempts she had made to reach her father, to get him to show that she mattered in his life. They all ended in him giving her an indulgent smile, talking about her mother, and leaving just the same for his clinic. She had spent most nights eating alone and tucking herself into bed. Her father was merely a ghost in their apartment, appearing only in the late hours of the night and disappearing early in the morning, leaving her to wander the cold, lonely halls by herself. Even most birthdays, with the exception of her tenth, were spent in her silent apartment without even a card to mark the occasion. It was really no wonder that she had started to ignore her studies, instead focusing on breaking into her father's computer to see what was more important than she was. In the end, she thought he could only blame himself when her best skills were shooting a BB gun, hacking, and rigging things in their apartment to blow up in a desperate plea for attention. Still, he had looked at her with disappointment when she announced her future as a waste management specialist.

That had hurt the most. Not the disappointment, so much, but the fact that he didn't even care that she was a failure compared to him and her dead mother. He had just given her a small shake of his head and left without a word. No yelling, no lecture, just silence. She wasn't even worth his breath.

But, being actively angry at her father after years of resentment and rage was just exhausting. There was no satisfaction in blaming him anymore or even trying to get a rise out of him. She didn't even care enough to stop Jonas in the halls and check to see that he was still breathing. There was no point. She knew she would get the same line about being close to a breakthrough like she had been since she was six. She had long ago lost the hope that her father would choose her over his work, knowing it was nothing more than a stupid kid's dream that would never come true.

Sighing, she gathered up the dust and dumped into bin. At least her father had taught her how to manage being alone all the time. It came in handy as her job required her to work nights when the common rooms weren't being used, which meant there was very little interaction with anyone in the vault anymore. All she had was her daily list that popped up in her Pip-Boy that dictated when and where she should be with her best friends; a mop and a broom.

"Just the lounge and I'm done," Zoey muttered to herself as she checked off the hall and pulled her equipment into room at the end of it.

At first she didn't notice him in the dim lighting the vault used to conserve resources. With his dark hair and the worn leather jacket he seemed to never take off, Butch almost blended in with the dark corner of the room. If it hadn't been for his intense stare making her skin crawl she probably wouldn't have even looked up until it came time to mop that part of the room.

Meeting his gaze, she felt her mouth press together at the deep gash on his cheek and the dark smudge that was beginning to form under his eye. It wasn't an uncommon sight on Butch, but normally he acted like it was nothing and went on with taunting and picking fights. Tonight, though, there was something lurking behind his cold baby blues, something fragile that made her stop and stare.

"What are you looking at, nosebleed?" he snapped as if realizing that something akin to empathy was bubbling up in her. "Don't you have some garbage to pick up?"

She shrugged, but didn't drop her gaze as he continued to stare daggers at her. It had nearly been four years since he had called he anything but daddy's girl, using the ammunition she had stupidly given him that night he caught her shooting. The sudden change back to her childhood taunt made her all the more aware that something was not right with slick-haired hairdresser.

"Seriously, nosebleed, whatcha lookin' at? I know I'm good lookin' and all but that don't mean I want some poindexter, daddy's girl polluting my personal space."

He gave her one of his sneers, but the look didn't reach his eyes. It was as if he was just going through the motions for the sake of routine rather than actually wanting to get under her skin. So instead of answering or going back to her job, she kept looking at him, watching for some sign of what it was that was underneath his tough guy act. There had to be some reason he was putting on his smug, arrogant performance despite no one being around except for them. It wasn't like his reputation for being a dick would be tarnished if he just got up and left so she could do her job without interruption. Besides, she didn't anything better to anyways.

Butch let out a small, disbelieving laugh that sounded forced. "You just don't understand what get lost means, do ya? But you know what? I'm feelin' generous tonight. I'll give you what you want, sunshine, since you don't look like you'll be leavin' before I do. If you want a round with the Butch-man I'll show you what a real Tunnel Snake can do."

Zoey felt a smile pull on her lips as he made a crude gesture with his hips. He wanted her to leave and thought the best way to do that was to make her uncomfortable. It was too bad for him that this was the most interesting thing to happen to her in months, if not longer. He could taunt, threaten, and talk big all he wanted, but she knew he was bluffing and she wanted to prove it for no other reason than to break up the monotony of her day.

"I don't know how you'll show me anything from way over there," she finally said, breaking her silence.

She watched him as his smile fell for a fraction of a second before sliding back up on his face. He clearly hadn't expected her to say that, but other than the brief crack in his mask he didn't miss a beat. Butch sauntered towards her, stopping only once he was close enough that she could feel the heat coming from his skin. She felt her blood rush to her face as she realized she hadn't been this close to anyone for ages and by god she actually missed it.

"Is this what you want, lil' miss goody two-shoes?" he asked, putting his hands on her hips with a whapping dose of bravado.

Zoey felt something inside her twist with the contact, something raw and instinctive. It made her heart pound and her skin to grow hot and itchy as the feeling made her mind feel hazy. When was the last time someone had touched her? Graduation, maybe, when the Overseer shook her hand? She couldn't think of anything since then. Not a hug from her father, or even a brushed shoulder from someone passing by. It made the contact with Butch all the more electrifying as her body reacted more than she had thought was possible, making her want more. She barely even registered what she was doing as the rush of adrenaline pushed against her toes, making her body move up until her lips crashed into his.

Butch let out a surprised gasp, but didn't move as she moved her hands up the back of his jacket and she pushed her body against his. It was almost as if he needed a second to process what was happening before he finally responded by moving his lips against hers.

Zoey let out a small moan at the electric heat that rushed through her, her hands clinging to his shirt as he pushed her up against the opposite wall. She felt like she was drowning with the air rushing out of her chest all the while a surge of energy made her feel like she was never more alive. This only grew as he groaned and pushed against her, letting her feel his own excitement that mimicked hers. Just as she felt herself on the verge of a new level of feeling a loud crash filled space around them.

Butch pulled away from her, his eyes wide and face flushed where it wasn't black and blue. Both of their eyes fell on her broom that had fallen from where she had leaned against the cart. She silently cursed the damn broom as the cocky hairdresser sputtered some nonsense about curfew before pushing past her. Zoey watched him speed down the hall, her body screaming at her to call out to him while her mind was too numb at the sudden aloneness to do anything but stare.

She stayed like that for what seemed like days, her eyes staring at the empty hall while her body grew cold and rigid. It had been a damn mistake trying to see what made Butch tick. She should have just marked the room as clean and went home early. At least then she wouldn't feel the strange ache that clawed at her stomach and made her hands fidget anxiously. And no matter how isolated she felt, she was certain that never knowing what she was missing out on was better than having a taste of human passion only to be left alone and wanting.