A.N.
Nope, it's not dead! Just...resting. Really hard. My brain is slowly melting through my eye sockets and it's screwing up my writing schedule...a lot. But here it is, without further ado-
Chapter Two
Jessica woke up in Doc Church's clinic, blinking disjointedly through one eye. Her hand flew to her face in a panic, but fell back to her side after discovering a bandage strapped across her forehead. She opened her mouth to speak, choking on half-formed words; her mouth was lined with cotton, which she pulled out and tossed to one side.
"You're missing a few teeth, I'm afraid," Doc Church's tone was dry and cynical as ever. "The rest of you will heal up eventually. I hope you haven't been blowing all your caps on Jet. I'm calling your tab this time."
"Goddamnit, Church," Jessica spat, wincing at the raw, gaping holes in her mouth. She stuck a finger in and prodded experimentally. So far as she could tell, she'd knocked out two incisors and shattered a molar. Probably from falling off the sewer ledge. Her eyes suddenly opened wide, and she struggled to sit up, staring around wildly.
"Where's Meat?" she demanded, falling back as her hand flew to her side and her face contorted with pain.
"The mutt?" Church rose from his desk, peering briefly into the recovery room. "He'll live. Last time I'm telling you; I'm not a fucking veterinarian, Jessica."
The young woman released a soft sigh.
"I'll make it up to you. I'm getting paid as soon as I get out of here; Moira fucking owes me this time."
Church shook his head.
"Didn't anyone warn you about taking jobs from her?"
Jessica made a noise that might have been a barking laugh or a clot in her windpipe.
"Her merc tried to. Kind of. Wish he'd been more specific. Can you do anything about my teeth?"
Church shook his head.
"They're gone, kid. Stick to soft foods until the bleeding stops and let me know if there's any sign of infection. Might be a few chips lodged up there in your gums."
"Great." Jessica closed her eyes and resisted the habitual urge to grind her jaw. "What's the damage this time?"
"Aside from the teeth, a broken arm, dislocated knee, three fractured ribs, multiple lacerations requiring a total of ninety two stitches, and a concussion. Oh, you're also dehydrated and undernourished...but what's new?"
Jessica sighed impatiently.
"Monetary damage, Church."
The middle-aged man picked up a worn clipboard and flipped briefly through a few sheets of paper, muttering inaudibly under his breath.
"Total as of today is gonna come to four hundred and thirty seven," he finally said. "That's not including veterinary fees."
The woman moaned loudly. "Goddamn it, Church. Have your stitches, I don't fucking want them anymore."
"Fine." Church nodded. "But I charge for removal, too."
The red flashed in front of her vision again. That furious, all-consuming red that made her limbs take on a mind of their own…and that had gotten her into more than a few spots of trouble. It now commanded her to pull out her trusty pistol and plant a few slugs right in the middle of Churches' smug, self-satisfied face.
"Don't give me that look." The man frowned heavily. "I have a pretty good track record as far as not killing patients, so don't give me a reason to fuck up my percentage. If you'd keep your blood on the inside, you wouldn't have to worry about hospital fees."
The woman forced herself to breathe. The old man was nothing short of impossible to intimidate, and she was too tired, anyway. That, and she was fully aware of the semi-automatic tucked inconspicuously on his belt.
"So what happened, anyway?" Jessica lay back and stared at the cracked ceiling through her uncovered eye.
"From those gashes, I'd say Mirelurks. What, you having memory trouble? I didn't think you hit your head that hard." Church gave her another stare.
"I know what happened to ME, I mean how come my body isn't being picked apart by a family of Mole Rats?" Jessica snapped. "I musta been a mile out of town. How the hell did I get here?"
Church chuckled dryly.
"You got damn lucky. Fell right in the middle of Hoff's route. I hope you remember to say thank you next time you're wasting caps."
"Mind your business," the woman snarled. "I work hard for every goddamn one and I don't need your approval."
"No, you need my services, and I expect to get paid for them instead of you wasting all your goddamn money on chems. So here's the deal." Church gave her a disdaining stare. "You wanna go get high instead of paying your hospital bill? Fine, but don't expect any more charity work out of me."
Jessica climbed unsteadily out of bed, legs trembling beneath her weight. She gripped the railing with white knuckles and leaned tentatively forward onto her left leg; the blood drained from her head, and a wave of pain caused her stomach to heave once.
"Fuck me. Where's the Med-X?"
Church smiled thinly.
"You've had a dose. Come back with my caps and I might be persuaded to sell you another."
Ooooh, she wanted to strangle him.
"Can I at least borrow a crutch?" The young woman growled through clenched teeth.
"I'm not a monster." Church shook his head, retrieving a tattered and rather rusty crutch from an unobtrusive corner. "I hope I don't need to remind you that I need it back."
"Guess not." Jessica situated the crutch beneath her left arm and took a hobble forward. With her right arm strapped to her chest, it was proving very difficult to balance, especially since her head wouldn't stop swimming.
"You're gonna have a time with the walkways," Church commented unhelpfully. "The concussion might be worse than I thought. You should probably stay overnight."
"I'm fine," Jessica snapped. "MEAT!"
She heard a yip and scuffle beneath the bed. Peering down, she looked at Dogmeat, who lay on a few tattered sheets. Most of his fur had been shaved off, and he was covered in angry, puckered gashes. Three splinted legs lay out stiffly, and bandages were wound around his head. One ear was torn nearly off, the edges black and cauterized. The dog's tail thumped loudly on the floor, and his tongue lolled out as he made a brief effort to stand. He lay still with a whimper, gazing up at her with apologetic eyes. Jessica sighed loudly.
"There's your collateral. I'll be back later." She hobbled unsteadily to the door, turning around as Dogmeat barked loudly.
"Stay here, Dogmeat," she directed firmly. The Australian shepherd whined softly, laying his head down on the floor in dejection.
"If you fall, I'll give you a discount if you hit Cronwell," Church told the woman as she limped out the door. Jessica threw him a parting sneer before slamming the door, turning and blinking in the late afternoon sunlight. Megaton's citizens milled around the crater's bottom and sides, enjoying a brief respite from the oppressive heat before the chill of night descended. Jessica managed to drag herself up the catwalks amidst incredulous stares, nearly falling through the door of Craterside Supply. She caught herself on the counter's edge, giving a startled Moira Brown a scathing stare.
"I want my fucking money," Jessica snarled, glaring through her good eye.
Moira's hands flew over her mouth.
"Oh my goodness," she cried, "what happened out there?"
"I got bored, thought I'd juggle a few live grenades," Jessica spat sarcastically. "I almost got torn to shreds, that's what the fuck happened. Why the hell would you send me to a nest of mini armored tanks?"
"How many were there? Are they intelligent?" Moira's eyes were glittering at the prospect. Jessica heard herself snarl, and she wobbled unsteadily for a moment as she lurched for the redhead. She froze as something hard and metallic dug into the small of her back.
"You better calm down," a guttural voice rumbled in her ear, "Moira don't like me killing customers, but it's my favorite part of the job."
Shit. She'd forgotten about the bodyguard. Jessica raised her hand to shoulder level slowly, turning her head to glower at Gun. The merc gave her a leering grin, jabbing the barrel of his assault rifle into her back again.
"All right, that's enough," Moira's tone was unusually stern. "I think you've been through enough violence for one day, Jessica. Let's all calm down and talk about this like grown-ups."
"I just want my payment," Jessica forced herself to keep calm. "I didn't count, and I sure as hell didn't ask them to do math. Your observer-thingy is right were you wanted it, so I did my job."
Moira nodded briefly at the mercenary, who reluctantly pulled his rifle out of Jessica's back. He glared daggers at her before retreating to his spot beside the work bench, watching her distrustfully.
"Next time," he mouthed. Jessica clenched her fists tightly and took a deep breath, giving Moira her full attention once again. The redhead ducked beneath the counter briefly and returned with two small devices.
"Here you go. Two brand new Stealth Boys."
"That won't even cover my hospital bill." Jessica frowned. "Come on, Moira, I've been risking my life left and right to help you write your stupid book, and you can't even give me health insurance?"
"I'm really sorry," Moira told her apologetically, "but I have a business to run, and we had a deal. It's…well, I can't really be held responsible…"
"Ain't her fault if you can't keep your blood where it belongs," the mercenary interjected caustically. Moira shot him a warning glance.
"Well, I wouldn't put it like that."
"But it's what you mean." Jessica swore fluidly under her breath. "Whatever." She snatched up the Stealth Boys and tucked them into her shirt, turning and limping for the door.
"Later, Jet-ica." Gun simpered at her, making a lewd gesture just out of Moira's line of sight.
"Go get gang raped," the young woman snarled, slamming the door hard behind her. The exertion sent her head spinning again. She steadied herself against the scaffolding for several minutes, breathing deeply and fighting off the bright spots in her eyes. The sun was dipping toward the horizon, throwing long shadows across the town.
"Hey you," she called to one of Megaton's many settlers, a dark-haired man who gave her a distrustful glance. "Want a free bottle of booze?"
"Why, whadda you want?"
"I need you to carry my dog. It's not far, just from the clinic to my house."
The man folded his arms across his chest, giving her an appraising stare.
"What kind of booze?'
"Oh for fuck's…whiskey, all right?"
"Hm. You got vodka?"
God, she was going to kill every one of them.
"No, I don't have vodka. You want to get drunk or not?"
The man contemplated for a long moment.
"All right. Let's go."
She gave the Stealth Boys to Church without a word, leaving the clinic and nearly crawling the steep incline to the ramshackle building perched on the crater's lip. Allowing the man carrying Dogmeat over his shoulder inside long enough to hand him a bottle of amber liquid, she dismissed him brusquely, locking the door behind him. She stared blearily at the set of stairs for a moment before sinking heavily to the floor, curling up beside Dogmeat as her exhausted and battered body screamed for rest. Tears sprang unbidden to her eyes as she lay on the cold, hard ground, occasional tremors shaking her body. Oh god, she needed some Jet. Just a hit. Just a little one, to take her away from everything even for a moment.
She hadn't thought it would be like this.
What's up there…it's not the life she wanted for you.
But what was a life in the ground? Pretending they were the only humans left on the planet, fading away little by little as the years filed away their numbers. And he'd left her in there without so much as a goodbye.
"I hope he's dead," she grated under her breath. Dogmeat whined sympathetically.
He was a prick. An asshole. An inconsiderate bastard.
"Daddy, why'd you leave me? Did I do something wrong?"
That tiny, wretched voice couldn't be hers. Dogmeat whimpered softly, licking salty drops from her cheeks as she lay sobbing on the floor. Daylight faded slowly, and the soft hum of the nighttime generators filled the air. Jessica slept, curled up in a ball while Dogmeat lay beside her, chin resting protectively on the woman's shoulder.
