The clock in James' office had never been louder, Jonas could attest. Another minute ticked by, the sound resonant in the otherwise still room and Jonas heaved a silent sigh, eyes flitting from the wall clock to the teenager before him. Sitting with near perfect posture, her eyes were glued to a point beyond his right shoulder, bored yet attentive. He wasn't sure how the combination worked. But the message was loud and clear and if this was a contest of wills (and he was almost positive it was), he was losing. A quiet 'good morning' was all he'd managed to get out of her.
She was so much like her father, he thought with a mixture of affection and annoyance. Careful. Guarded. Of the two, James was the outgoing one, quick with a hello and a nudge for Mae to follow along. But when it came to getting beyond that friendly doctor-single dad outer layer… Even after nearly a decade of his life working and growing closer to James, as good as their work relationship had become, Jonas was still bumping against a wall. It had gotten to a point that Jonas wondered if James even realized it was there.
"You know everything we talk about here is kept in confidence."
Mae blinked. Ran her thumb over the other nails, back and forth, polish the color of fresh bruises on each finger. It was a nervous tick, something she'd had since she was a kid. He relaxed a little at the sight.
"I won't tell your dad of anything we talk about here," he clarified again.
Her subtle fidgeting stilled, her thumb stopping. And Jonas waited.
"Isn't mental illness hereditary?"
"It's… a combination of things." Jonas answered honestly. "But yes. It can be."
Participation was progress, he reminded himself. Not what he was expecting, but questions of this sort were easy. And the doc's kid was nothing if not a hoarder of information.
"So, do you play therapist for my dad?"
"Yep." His answer had Mae's brow rising, a dark curve of skepticism. Jonas swallowed, tried to moisten a suddenly dry mouth. He'd never been good at hiding from the kid's eyes. They were a pale gray, sharp as the scalpels she polished when helping at the clinic and they pinned him, like an entomologist with an insect. "You're getting the family discount."
He almost cringed at his poor joke. But her mouth twitched, a half smile nearly forming. Jonas had a small moment of relief before her expression went back in a blink.
Two steps back, zero steps forward.
"So, you have the G.O.A.T this year... Are you nervous?"
She shook her head.
"Good. No reason to be, in my opinion. They don't always get it right, anyway."
Mae's eyes bore into him as he said this and the silence stretched between them, uncomfortable. Until Jonas finally caved. He handed her a refill of pills, but before he could he could send her on her way-
"You know the drill, sport." He held out a water bottle for her.
She sighed, popping one into her mouth and taking a quick swallow of water. He waited until she opened her mouth to show him it was gone before she left.
In his notes, he scribbled "chose to spend her hour in contemplation." He didn't include her question or the multitude of answers she had gleaned from his response. Mae was intelligent. No one in the Vault had been trained in psychiatry, they merely did the best they could. Without an active chaplain, the duty fell on James to figure out. And while all the others had their sessions with the Doc, Mae was the lucky one that got Jonas.
The school year was in full swing already and with the baseball season drawing near, Mae was coping with her VDS. The doc had even lowered the dosage upon her request, so long as she sat in for her weekly therapy sessions. James had done the best he could with Mae, given what the Vault provided. It was all he could ever hope to give his Wasteland born daughter. Jonas was sure even as a pang of nostalgia hit him.
He wouldn't concede he'd he lost sight of the little girl with loose curls and the shy smile. With an inkling on how to approach their next meeting already growing, he returned to his duties with a firmer resolve.
He put his notes on their session away, forgetting to tick off one of the boxes on his checklist.
The nausea wasn't the worst part.
Throwing up had become almost welcome when faced with the alternative. When the meds dissolved within her she'd turn into a zombie, and that was the worst. She had lost entire days, especially in the beginning when her dad had first prescribed them. They'd all run together into one colorless blur, a fog that wouldn't lift.
Mae dry heaved again but nothing came out, her insides already long gone in the toilet. She flushed, huddling in the stall and wiping her face with her sleeve. Checked her Pip-boy for the time. She had missed the end of history and the first few minutes of her free period. With Freddie out again, she had left Amata alone and that wouldn't do. She rinsed out her mouth and splashed cold water on her face before heading out of the women's restroom.
The sound of a woman crying as she passed the men's restroom stopped her in her tracks and she pushed the men's door open, following the sound. She wasn't sure what she'd find, but the sight of Ellen DeLoria sobbing and fighting Butch off as he held her over the sink was… it was…
"Get the fuck out."
Butch was trying to soothe his mother. The hand brushing the hair away from her swollen face was gentle and a complete contrast to the venomous look he shot Mae's way.
"Do you, um…" She faltered as she backed up, at a complete loss on what to say. "Do you need-"
"Get. Out."
She did. Hurriedly, nearly tripping on her feet as the door closed behind her hasty exit.
She dropped numbly on a chair next to Amata's things in the library, not noticing her with Beatrice at another table. She laid her head on the cool surface and closed her eyes. The sight of Ellen's rumpled vault suit, the bruises Mae had seen on her arms… they were seared in her mind along with the look on Butch's face before he had spotted her.
She wasn't surprised when she didn't see Butch or his mother for the rest of the day.
Mae scrolled through the charts quickly while her dad was in his office. She wondered if his busy schedule had anything to do with Freddie's health issues or Ellen's current condition. As she skimmed through their files, she found nothing to help figure it out. Ellen's chart was surprisingly light, a woman who missed her yearly physicals as often as she showed. And although everyone knew she was an alcoholic, there was no mention of it in the chart she pulled up.
She frowned.
Going over her own chart, she found nothing to indicate her own issues and her relief was quick and unexpected. Amata knew. And Freddie. The notes that her dad probably had about her... Mae could only guess what he'd jotted down in the handwriting only she and Jonas were able to decipher. Withdrawn, uncooperative, sullen. She ticked them off mentally, listing what she would write about him if the tables were turned. Secretive, crafty, detached.
Liar.
She logged off, tired and anxious to stop her mind from buzzing.
"Cohen."
Mae froze for a second but picked up the pace when his voice registered.
"Hey. I'm talking to you."
Butch grabbed her arm and pulled her aside before she scurried into class. He loomed over her and the tension in his grip, in the rough pull had her landing against the wall hard.
"Let go," she muttered, gaze averted.
"Did you open your big mouth?"
She rolled her eyes, "Because that's what I'm known for, right?"
"Don't get smart with me, twerp," he growled, shaking her and his grip tightened, forcing her back against the wall.
She tried to shove past him but he pressed closer and a cold sweat prickled under her vault suit. She swallowed, forced herself to glare at him even as her heart thundered in her chest. "Get off me."
"No. Not until you fucking get it in your head-"
"I said get off me!" She shoved harder but she barely moved him and a wildness grew in her, a desperation that she couldn't keep a lid on, no matter how hard she pushed it down. Her breathing would give her away. Not again, not again.
Knees buckling, she dropped like a stone and used her stature to her advantage. Slipping under his legs, she darted out with a burst of speed that made her lightheaded. Twerp, he called her. She caught him right in his junk with her shoulder and an awful groaning-whine followed her as she ran past.
She skittered to a halt when she took the stairs down to the reactor, crashing into the wall after she lost her footing and slipped down the last few steps. Her heart nearly stopped when she landed on her hands instead of her face, her lungs burning for oxygen. But the fear had subsided, left behind with Butch and his bruised… ego.
She giggled. Couldn't stop once the first one escaped her. Muffling her laughter, she crawled the last couple of steps until she got to the storage room door. She jimmied open the lock after glancing behind to make sure she hadn't been followed. Locked it shut and collapsed against it to finish what she was almost positive was hysteria after getting so close to another attack.
After twenty minutes of not hearing anything but the hum and crackle of the reactor and her occasional giggle, she slumped on the floor. Stared at the ceiling in wonderment.
Playing hookie in her old shooting range was surprisingly easy. She wasn't looking forward to facing Butch and whatever he'd want to do to her after what just happened. Her BB gun was in one of the lockers and she took it apart to clean before taking a knee and aiming. She shot ten careful rounds into the green toy soldiers she had repurposed from one of the empty apartments in the level below hers. Some kid had played with them once when the Vault had housed more than what they currently had. They had talked about it, she and Amata. About what they would probably be forced to do once their time came.
She collected the little green men again, one by one lined them up for another round. No use thinking about the lottery, either.
"Where have you been?" Amata asked, setting her schoolbag down.
Mae was halfway through her soup and already contemplating another serving so she didn't respond immediately. She loved soup day, had smelled the split pea and fake bacon in her sleep. She might've napped through lunch had it been cold sandwiches again.
"Downstairs," she shrugged, taking another spoonful. It was a thin soup today, but it was smoky.
"What happened?"
She hesitated, catching sight of Butch as he walked into the cafeteria. Her eyes met his for a brief moment before she turned back to Amata, feeling a heat creeping up her neck.
"Just a bad day," she murmured, looking back at him as the lie slipped past her lips.
She met his eyes. Frowned at his obvious anger as her own clawed at her insides. Felt his eyes burning a hole into her from the other side of the room as she went back to her soup.
Nope, she wouldn't say a word about what she'd seen. She wouldn't prove him right. He had no idea how quiet she could keep a secret.