'Those lights fuck with your eyes, yeah, but so does the smell in there. The air filtration system is supposed to make everything seem natural. But it's not right, it dries your mouth in your sleep. Then there's the noise! If it's not someone pacin' around it's the pipes or whatever the hell they got runnin' under the floor and in the walls. After years in there, you get used to it. But then sometimes you get pissed off that you're used to it. Then you're lookin' for ways to get rid of it since you can't just fuckin' leave. One thing good about the vault is that it's safe. No serious injuries. So that means they got a whole lot of stuff piled up that'll numb you till you just don't give a fuck anymore.'

03

Med-X is a highly potent and significantly addictive painkiller. In the medical world, it is used on patients to treat their moderate to severe pain and help ease a variety of ailments. Its effects gave it momentous popularity in legal (and illegal) circles.

As with scores of other drugs, testing began immediately on the additional applications it might have. The most notable discovery was on the battlefield. It was found that Med-X could make a soldier impervious to pain and raise their damage resistance to near super-human levels. The downside was that the withdrawals produced soldiers exhibiting lessened coordination and reaction times. With further research however, it was concluded that in small, continuous doses the negative side-effects could be avoided. Once the proper channels were maneuvered, Med-X began under U.S. military direction to be mass-produced and distributed. Because of the nature of the Vaults, those were listed for shipments as well.

Along with the other necessary medical supplies, Vault 101 was equipped with a reserve of Med-X in its clinical facility. The Overseer kept diligent records on distribution of all materials but it wasn't really large enough to garner much attention. With lack of real need for it, it had been left in sealed preservation until the day that James invited his son to assist him in taking the biannual inventory of the clinic's provisions.

It was also a simple enough task for just James and Jonas alone, but lately James had noticed how restless his son was and decided to help him occupy his time. The good doctor was surprised at the boy's enthusiasm but it was a welcome change. He gave his son the responsibility of going through the store room to check expiration dates. Boring, but easy enough for the kid. And safe, or so he thought. It only took him a couple minutes to notice the dusty case of Med-X in the corner and then curiosity got the better of him.

Fox had only snatched a couple vials and syringes, just to have them, not really sure what he was going to do with them. They'd been hidden away in the bottom drawer of the dresser in his room. That was until a few weeks ago when he started to feel empty, to feel like he was trapped. Like the walls were closing in. Like if he didn't do something soon he was going to end up doing something he'd regret. Fucking Amata, for instance.

Even though he could barely stand it when she opened her mouth, he got to thinking that there were a lot of other things her mouth could be used for. That's when he started acting a little more friendlily toward her, as much as he could without wanting to slit his own throat anyway. It was all going smoothly until one day when Amata and the Tunnel Snakes got into a little confrontation. It wasn't a rare occurrence. Butch always liked to mess with the Overseer's daughter but she knew how to handle herself. Fox never paid much attention until that day. He'd gone up to Butch and his gang and made them run along, thinking he'd win a few extra points with Amata.

The points he won were far too many for his liking. At first she only ate lunch with him but after that she started walking with him in the halls and sitting by him in school and going to his room to see if he'd like to read Grognak the Barbarian with her. It was driving him insane. And yet, he'd convinced himself it'd be worth it in the end. That was, of course, until he'd heard a few of the older female Vault residents gossiping. They joked about how he and Amata would be married in the future and have beautiful children. The thought disgusted him.

He hated her, kids, and even the thought of marriage. But that was only part of it. It was more because he hated the attitude that someone could be so comfortable in the Vault. They didn't seem to think that there could possibly be anything else, gossiping about a hollow existence. The resentment toward their words stuck around all day, not even the gnarly fight he'd picked with Butch and Wally at the same time got it out of him. Even with the black eye and bloody nose.

In bed, he was stuck just laying there. Not awake and not asleep, staring at the lighted ceiling with what felt like agitated bees buzzing around in his head. He was tossing and turning for hours until he finally remembered the bottom drawer of his dresser. Being around in the medical office for so long, much of what he did was read the files and reports to pass the time. He knew what Med-X could do. Using the syringe, he took up a reasonable dose from one of the vials and injected it into his arm.

The first few moments were awful. As the drug carved its way through his system it felt like lead was being pumped into his veins. It took a considerable amount of effort to hide the evidence and slink his way back into bed. HIs whole body felt heavy and slow, made of stone. Lying there, he saw all of his problems and worries in front of him. But then he gradually realized that he just didn't care. His breathing slowed until he felt barely alive and the buzzing in his head muted into nothing. The room went black and silent and he drifted into a dreamless sleep.

Fox had been using the Med-X to fall asleep every night for the past few weeks. But now all he had was gone. James would've personally denied the thought of his son ending up an addict so it must've been Jonas that got wise and hid the case. That's why Fox couldn't find it when he went searching earlier that day. That's also why his eyes were currently wide open; staring at the blurry green light of the Pip-Boy on his arm which told him it was way too late in the night to be awake. The stomach pain, muscle ache, and sweat made it so he couldn't stay still. He couldn't fall asleep without the Med-X. Every little worry and heartache was prodding at his brain. What were once agitated bees was now a raging hornet's nest in his mind. He needed to dosomething!

Even though the lights in the hall were as bright as they always were, no one would be in them. The Overseer enforced a strict curfew. When your Pip-Boy clock showed 11, you were supposed to be restricted to your apartment. Unfortunately for the Overseer, the delinquents of Vault 101 frequently broke curfew and snuck out often to where the cameras weren't allowed. Due to grievous privacy concerns, Vault 101 was not equipped with security cameras in its bathrooms. The security cameras weren't exactly the most heavily monitored devices in any case, but privacy was completely ensured in the can.

The public bathroom was the ideal place, the restrictions significantly limited traffic to that area. The guards on patrol from 11pm till 4am, when the curfew is implemented, are the only ones passing through at any time. Being so that all guards are male, the female public restroom is normally completely unsecured throughout the night. That in particular was Fox's destination and, after the events of earlier, he was sure to at least find one thing he was looking for. Luckily he never needed to sneak far.

There was Butch, clearly visible, sitting on the floor against the wall of the girl's bathroom. His head was down and inattentive, elbows resting on his crooked knees, the mouth of a whiskey bottle hanging gingerly between his fingertips. Fox entered and pushed a button on the wall to close the door. Making his way over the slumped figure, he knelt down and snatched the bottle from his hand. Almost half empty already, must've taken it right from his mother.
"You're supposed to shut both doors, man," Fox whispered, taking a swig of whiskey. Butch rested the back of his head on the cool metal behind him. After his eyes had adjusted to the light, he gave Fox a hard look and snatched the bottle back.
"Hey there, nosebleed. You look like absolute shit."
"Nosebleed? I'll take it you've calmed down. You should apologize, by the way."
"Yeah, whatever," he droned and took a drink. "You can kick my ass later."

Butch offered him back the bottle but he refused, not liking the way it hitched and burned in his throat. It didn't compliment the pain in his gut. Everything sore, but particularly his legs, he pulled himself over to sit by his only friend. He leaned his back on the wall next to Butch and copied his position. They both stared at nothing for a while before Fox spoke again,
"Hey. What do you think about Amata?"
"Whiny bitch," Butch snorted. "Someone needs t'cut her tongue out so she'll stop runnin' her mouth."
"Ha, alright. How 'bout Christine?"
"Christine's a bitch too." He smirked, "She puts out well enough though."
"You and her? I always thought you and Susie had a thing."
"Susie? Yeah right, Wally would kill me."
"Oh yeah," Fox wiped the sweat from his face with the arm of his jumpsuit. "Slim pickin's, huh?"
Butch took one last gulp of the whiskey before he set the bottle on the ground.
"You got it in good with Amata though, man. I heard old Beatrice and Gloria blabbing 'bout how you twos was gonna get hitched or some shit."
"Oh, fuck that. I'd sooner marry you than her."
"Ha. Yeah, but you're gonna be the bitch 'cause I ain't wearin' no dress."

Fox tried to laugh, it was funny, but a catch deep in his throat made him cough instead. The rapid, painful expulsion of air reverberated through his whole body. He coughed again. Then he started to shake, started to feel horribly nauseous, a cold sweat blanketing his forehead. Before he knew it, he'd busted through one of the stall doors and was over the toilet, emptying his stomach. It felt like his lungs were dissolving and the rest of his organs were burning their way up into and out of his mouth. He threw up a few times, gagging until there was nothing left. The acid burned worse than the whiskey.

"Dude! What the fuck?"
When the convulsions stopped, reality slowly became more apparent. Warm hand was firm on his shoulder, comforting, but not much against the stinging smell of vomit in his nostrils and sour taste burning his mouth. Fox didn't want to collapse over the bowl so he turned and fell back against the inside wall of the stall. Butch was stooped down by him, hand now holding open the door.
"I thought you could hold your drink, man."
"That's not it." Fox wiped his mouth on his arm. "Fuck. Fuckin' Med-X, man. I just- fuck!"
"Well, whatever," Butch's tone was hasty, "We should get outta here."
If anyone was around outside, they'd probably heard the heaving sounds. Fox got a grip on the wall and tried to push himself him. Sweaty palms made him slip but Butch was there to catch him. The older male slung the younger's arm behind his neck and slipped a hand around his waist in support. It was quite a maneuver in the small stall but both managed to get out and make way toward the door.

"I can't believe this shit, gotta carry your junkie ass home." Butch sighed as he dragged him out of the girl's restroom and into the boy's, the only shortcut.
"I didn't ask for your help, dipshit," Fox grumbled. Butch made move to let go of his arm and he frantically clung to the leather of his jacket, feet almost slipping out from under him. His stomach lurched, "Oh, fuck you."
"Yeah, that's what I thought," he scoffed, helping him back up, "Now shut your trap before Gomez finds us."

Quietly as they could, they made way into James and Fox's apartment. Butch set the other down on the couch, not willing to take him any farther. Despite that, he stood there for a while looking down at the rather pathetically sprawled figure.
"What, you want a kiss goodnight or something?" Fox sighed, agitated, "Hurry up and get the fuck out."
Butch rolled his eyes and stuck a hand in inside his jacket, pulling out a silver flask. The snake emblem of his Vault gang was crudely etched onto its face.
"Here," he mumbled, holding it out to him, "Just give it back to me later or I'll murder you."
Fox reached out and grabbed the flask, surprised at how full it was. After fumbling around with it for a few seconds he slipped it into the pocket of his jumpsuit.
"Thanks, man."
"Yeah, whatever," Butch grunted. After a quick wave, he didn't stick around.

Fox watched the door close and then kept lazily staring at it. He eventually passed out with the dizziness and whirling sensations of pain and dehydrating sweat. A half-hour or so later he was woken gently by his father. Despite everything or maybe because of it, he smiled to see a familiar face, blurry as it was.
"Son? Son, are you alright?"
He sounded so concerned. A cold fabric was dabbing at the sweat on his forehead.
"The Overseer contacted me on the intercom. Stanley has fallen ill. I am supposed to go check up on him but you… I could send Jonas if-"
"N-no," Fox interrupted, "You go see, um, y'know, the Overseer called you. Let Jonas take care of me."
He felt a warm hand on the side of his face.
"Are you sure?"
Fox brushed the hand of with his own shaky one.
"Mmhm... You go and then call Jonas."
"Alright then," James whispered, placing the wet towel on his son's head. "You just stay here."
"Yeah, dad."
"Alright."
After draping a blanket over the boy, he left. Jonas appeared a while later and escorted Fox to the clinic where a cot was waiting, special just for him.