- VII -
Next Phase of Demons
Raine spit out a mouthful of blood in the sink, wincing as the cut on her tongue protested the action. She scooped cold water from the running faucet with both hands and brought it to her split lip, the sensation worsening the sting before helping to numb it. Once she finished gingerly washing off her mouth, she lifted her gaze to the bathroom mirror, barely recognizing the battered visage staring back at her.
"Fuck you, DeLoria," she seethed, although the image of his worse state after their scuffle brought her a measure of satisfaction. "Picking stupid fights like that. Dumbass will believe anything that threatens his fragile ego."
The slandering of her name had escalated to a point where even the Vault's delinquents now fed into the lies. Grimacing at the swelling beneath her right eye, she muttered several obscenities about the hotheaded Tunnel Snake leader and turned away from her reflection. The apartment remained silent as she staggered into the hallway, its deceitful stillness masking the turbulent atmosphere outside. She caught the lingering aroma of her father's morning coffee wafting from the kitchen, and a glance at her Pip-Boy clock told her she'd missed him by mere minutes on his way to work.
Good, she thought while trudging to her bedroom. The less he knows, the better.
Stripping off the top half of her jumpsuit, she let the material hang at her waist as she opened her door. A clash of bright green against black leather met her vision at the other end of the floor, startling her with its unexpected presence. She tensed when the Tunnel Snake jacket triggered a reflexive bout of violence, and her body prepared to fly into action just as the intruder rotated toward her.
"Raine."
She stopped, her outrage dwindling down to annoyance at the sight of the deep brown eyes staring in her direction. "What are you doing lurking around my room?"
Her boyfriend frowned, his brutish features scrunching into an expression of concern. "Sorry… front door was unlocked, and I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Butch showed up at the rec room all beat up and pissed, but he didn't say nothin' more than that you'd been asking for a pummeling. I didn't even know you guys still duked it out with your fists."
Raine scowled and stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. "I didn't, either, until that limp-wristed hairdresser came at me in the corridor. He should've known better than to take on someone who used to lift jukeboxes."
"Jesus, just look at your face, babe." Heavy legs strode forward, his fingers stretching out to her. "What was the fight about, anyway?"
She batted away his hand when he tried to touch her cheek. "Your dipshit of a leader is buying into the new wave of bull about me." Venom seeped into the angry treble of her voice as she glared at him and added, "What, you haven't heard? Apparently, I've been looking to run your gang into the ground by leaking Butch's medical records to the Overseer as 'proof' that he's unhinged. Give me a fucking break. It's like the Overseer isn't satisfied that three-fourths of the Vault already hates my guts. He needs to make sure the last quarter get on my case, too."
"I didn't know about these new rumors, but you're sayin' the Overseer started them?"
Raine moved past him and sat at the edge of her bed to pull off her boots. "Had to be. They're roundabout enough so that he can confirm them if people ask for the truth. I'm so sick of this shit, but it's his word over mine."
The sordid lies ranged from tales of her alleged prejudice toward people of color to accusations of food ration theft. She found it maddening that the other citizens simply accepted these indictments as fact when no evidence ever surfaced to back them up. Then again, nothing new there.
She threw her hefty footwear against the opposite wall and then wriggled out of her jumpsuit, dropping it on the floor. Left sitting in her tank top and shorts, she examined the bruises on her arms and legs. Neither she nor Butch had pulled any punches. The marks trailed across her fair skin, symbolizing the perilous road that awaited her from this point forward.
However, in a way, they had their uses.
The bedsprings creaked underneath a joining weight as her boyfriend plopped down next to her. She recoiled when he reached out and stroked her hair, put off by the uninvited contact. His usual timid demeanor had faded in recent days, replaced by a more assertive disposition. Although she couldn't pinpoint the reason for the change, she got the notion that some opportunistic mentality had come into play as he watched her fall lower and lower on the Vault social ladder.
While she had always held the dominant role in their relationship, she recognized the gradual shift in the balance of power between them.
"I'll always be on your side, don't worry," he remarked, tucking several dark strands behind her ear. She heard the resolute edge, the unspoken declaration that he could do better than Amata had in supporting her. "I'm kinda surprised and relieved, though. I thought the Overseer would do worse to you after the stolen supplements thing."
Raine's gaze hardened and bore into the shiny linoleum beneath their feet. "He did. My job's been changed to clinical test subject."
A few moments passed in suspended silence. She sensed his confusion and uncertainty, knowing he had picked up on the hitch in her words. Going from maintenance to the medical field might have sounded like a promotion, but as always, the Overseer's supposed mercy came with a catch.
Finally, he asked, "Is it that bad? Doesn't that mean you'd be working with your dad in the clinic?"
Raine snickered bitterly. Oh, you simpleton… "No." Her fingertips came up to graze her temples, where the bruises from Butch's blows disguised the electric burns she'd hoped to hide. "It means something else entirely."
With harsh clarity, she still felt the tightness of the straps and binds. The thundering fear. The loss of control.
And the refusal to plead for clemency through it all.
She had stopped worrying about the gaps in her memory upon realizing the contents were better off lost. Her mind recalled nothing of the blank spaces, but her body remembered something painful beyond coherent thought. She peered down at the new customary shakiness in her fingers, suspecting permanent damage in her motor control. In time, more than just neuromuscular ability would break down. But she'd chosen this option. If it meant protecting her father, she could continue on. Endurance. Willpower. She placed significant faith in her strengths.
And yet—
Raine choked back the sting of frustrated tears as her caged spirit decried the injustice.
How much was she willing to pay for the wrongs she'd never committed?
She dropped her head in her hands and fought through the moment of self-pity. A solemn quality filled the air as her boyfriend's palm landed on her knee. He scooted closer, murmuring consoling statements and reiterating his love for her. Sincerity rang in his deep timbre and eased the stiffness of her frame, as it usually did. She allowed the contact of his lips against her ear, feeling herself unwinding enough to lower her walls. He kissed her jaw at her tentative receptiveness, his close proximity surrounding her in the scent of his aftershave.
Raine sighed and pushed her troubles from her thoughts as she leaned into him. She felt no real sense of security or infatuation in his presence, but as a significant other, he'd proven adequate, comfortable. Despite her one-track focus on surviving and pulling through her circumstances, she could appreciate a distraction. And with his fingers making their way inside the front of her shorts, he gave her little choice.
The breath left her lungs when he rubbed the sensitive nub at the base of her sex, instant tendrils of heat shooting through her in response. She clenched both fists into the collar of his jacket, burying her face against his chest while shifting her hips. The rough calluses of his digits brushed against her soft folds as he teased her, and she restrained the small noise rising in her throat when his free hand tugged on her hair to lift her head.
Their kiss tasted of need and desperation, the sort that kept the bleakness of reality at bay. She surrendered to it as he continued his clumsy but improving ministrations between her legs, shuddering when he groaned her name against her lips. The desire in his tone hinted at the hardness straining inside his pants, but she hesitated in reaching for it, still ambivalent about intimacy with that part of a man. Although aware she couldn't put it off forever, only the images of a woman splayed out and wet kindled her true arousal.
Suddenly, Raine's entire body went rigid when his fingers dipped deep inside her, and they both felt the intact resistance that served as a reminder of her former non-binary sexuality.
Seizing his wrist, she growled, "No. You know I don't like penetration."
He frowned in clear disappointment as she shoved him and his intruding limbs away from her. "Come on, babe, we've been goin' out for three months now. Couldn't we just try—"
"No."
"But I even learned to give head for you. If you won't have sex, how about just returning the favor? My dick and I are dyin' here."
She winced as her eyes flickered to the bulge in his jumpsuit. "I… need time for that. A lot. A whole lot."
He lowered his gaze and ran a hand through his slicked back hair. "I'm never gonna get laid," he muttered, pouting. "Guess this is what I get for dating a lesbian. Bet you put out for Amata no problem."
"I'm not—" She cut off her own retort and pressed her mouth into a hard line. Irritation surged forth and ignited, sharpening her tongue as she snapped, "If what you want is someone to fuck, then get lost and don't come back. I've got enough problems without you pressuring me for sex every other day."
She acknowledged the folly of driving away one of her only allies and modes of support, but the prospect of forcing herself to accommodate his carnal wishes took a significant toll. Her evolving orientation aside, she found it bothersome to add yet another topic of debate to her list of worries. More pressing concerns loomed in the foreground, and logic dictated that she eliminate all other sources of stress. If cutting one's partner loose meant traversing this nightmare alone, she'd deal with it.
However, he immediately threw himself forward, enveloping her in a constricting, frantic hug. She struggled to sit upright and free herself, but he had clamped on, everything in his posture reflecting pure anxiety. In light of his increasing self-confidence, she'd forgotten about his baffling attachment and dependence on their relationship, which seemed to trump all other factors. He nearly crushed her with his surprising strength as he held on tight, and he ignored her order to let go even when she kicked his shin.
"Sorry. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry," he apologized repeatedly in despair. "I love you, Raine. You know that. Don't break up with me."
It was a little disconcerting hearing someone beg for her favor. As the resident outcast of Vault 101, she still had no idea what compelling force drew him to her. She stared down at the shine of pomade in his hair as he pressed his face against her abdomen, a wave of perplexity overcoming her anger.
"You can't just go ask someone else out?" Raine demanded. "Maybe someone who isn't on the Vault's wanted list?"
"No," he protested into her tank top. "Only you. You're the only one. I don't want anyone else."
At that point, she'd brushed it off as mere infatuation.
She couldn't have predicted the depth of obsession that ran deep in his core.
When she woke this time, a severe crick in her neck dispelled her bleariness. Sharp prickles shot through her upper body when she lifted her head from her arms folded over the desk, where she'd fallen asleep. The half-repaired radio sat on the other side, wires still hanging out of its open speakers. Raine groaned and sat back on her rickety chair to try and stretch the soreness away. What time was it? What day?
Before she could check the clock on her Pip-Boy, a loud snore drifted over from the bed.
Bryan lay sprawled out on her mattress, limbs splayed in different directions as he drooled on her pillow. One hand still held a screwdriver in a loose grip, and in the light of her desk lamp, she made out the dark circles beneath his eyes, which signified a dire lack of sleep. He babbled nonsensically as he slumbered, with the occasional coherent, "Circuits and volts are fun," thrown in.
Shaking her head, Raine made a mental note to cut the electronics lessons to shorter hours, although the boy's enthusiasm in helping to fix Seagrave's radio did please her somewhat. He demonstrated no particular talent for electronic components thus far, but his eager attitude for learning resulted in enough progress to impress her. She watched his well-earned rest, a ghost of a smile spreading over her lips.
It faded just as quickly when the contents of her latest nocturnal recollection crept along the outskirts of her working memory. She leaned forward and glanced down at her hands in her lap, replaying the scene over and over against her better judgment. Then, lifting trembling fingers, she traced the jagged scars across her chest.
Thus commenced the next phase of demons.
The dreams of Freddie had begun.
x-x-x-x-x
She kept her palm planted firmly against the cantankerous man's back as she steered his resisting form toward the security office. Most of the older passersby did double-takes at the sight, for his reappearance came as a shock. People in the younger age group didn't recognize him, but they gawked all the same. His reputation preceded him in the tales of his past work—almost legendary throughout Rivet City—and he retained enough visible sourness and ego to drop hints of his identity.
Raine shoved him past the unlocked metal door to their destination, weary from the day's exertion and hoping to get the whole affair over with as soon as possible.
"Well," Harkness commented straight away as he narrowed his eyes at the pair striding into his office. "I can't say I expected you to actually succeed in prying this man from his workshop, Sinclair."
The security chief's recent unsettling civility still rubbed her the wrong way, and she sent him a sharp look before pushing a reluctant and sour-faced Pinkerton front and center. "When persuasion and reason didn't work, brute force did," she replied, slamming the door behind them. "All right, he's here. Let's get on with this council hearing or whatever the hell it is."
Pinkerton took the time to communicate his aggravation by glowering at everyone in the room. He straightened his disheveled attire and then crossed his arms, almost like a petulant child. Danvers had stationed herself at the corner near the lockers, possibly to act as a mediator in case the impending discussion grew too heated. Meanwhile, Bannon coughed into a handkerchief from his seat on the couch at the other end of the room, where he'd apparently been quarantined.
Harkness stood as the overbearing authority figure from behind his desk, hands resting on his hips. Raine took the opportunity to study him from beneath her lashes, something she now did with increasing frequency. He reflected strict professionalism at the moment, but his off duty disposition as of late had thrown her for a loop. Small things here and there, but enough to perturb her. A nod of approval whenever he spotted her and Bryan together in the corridors, talking electronics and engineering. A long but placid stare whenever he caught her peering at him across any distance. Not so much as a neutral, "What are you doing?" whenever he saw her standing idly about. The suspicion, the nagging, the threats of deportation… all of it had almost desisted.
Dare she say he'd actually listened to her version of the "assisted suicide" incident?
Raine shoved the possibility from her mind and leaned against the door, stuffing her hands into her pockets to wait out the meeting. Head in the game, Raine. I swear, after all that trouble, this had better go well…
Switching trains of thought only exacerbated her ire. The weeks it had taken to finally schedule a council hearing and ensure Pinkerton's attendance left her chafing. For a man who wanted such extensive administrative privileges in the city, he had demonstrated an infuriating lack of personal effort in obtaining it. She'd resorted to physical manhandling to fulfill her part of the deal, and she refused to leave this office until someone agreed to give her paid work. Vera's willingness to defer her room payments allowed for some leeway, but Raine hated debt and sought to pay off her outstanding balance sooner rather than later.
She tapped the toe of her boot against the floor when the silence lengthened.
"Welcome back to Rivet City proper, Pinkerton," Harkness started, watching him with a veiled intensity that snapped her out of her musings.
"I still don't see why I have to come all the way over here to present my case when Raine could have just relayed the message," Pinkerton barked and turned to glower at her.
"Because I'm not the fucking Pony Express."
"Look," Harkness rumbled, "you wanted the chance for an appeal regarding your former council seat, right? This is what it takes." He ignored the scientist's indignant grumbling and gestured to the papers on his desk. "On these documents, you have both my and Bannon's votes pending, but we need to hear your intentions. You've been around the longest, and with Dr. Li gone, it would be natural to appoint you in her place. However," he went on when Pinkerton opened his mouth to jump on that point, "I can't just relinquish the science lab to you."
Pinkerton's gaze went dark. "And why not?"
Raine noted the crackle of challenge between them, and she quirked an eyebrow at their unexpected enmity.
"From what I understand of your work, it doesn't fit into the city's interests right now," Harkness declared in an unyielding tone.
"We're focused on water distribution, not bringing this boat's systems back to life," Danvers joined in, supplementing Harkness's blatant rebuff with an explanation. "The lab is being used for shipment inventory, and we're considering forming a joint science team with the Brotherhood to develop new technology for repelling the attacks on our caravans."
Pinkerton appeared both dumbfounded and outraged. "What a waste of time and facility space. Hire out more bodies for your deliveries; don't have clueless buffoons tinkering around with equipment and instruments they don't know anything about. If it were up to me, I'd reprogram a heap of robots and other AIs and send those off to hold your caravan escorts' hands. Wouldn't even take me more than a month."
Danvers blinked at him as Bannon went into another coughing fit in the background. "Other AIs?"
"No," Harkness snapped a bit too harshly. "We already have a set of goals as a community, Horace. And we have other problems to take into account." He motioned toward the couch, where the ill merchant rasped for breath.
"I'm not buying the excuses," Pinkerton stated as he drummed his fingertips against his arm. "Is there a real reason you don't want me around the science lab? Something you think you can't trust me with, son?"
The direct inquiry caused Harkness's features to harden, and Raine ran a hand down her face as Pinkerton's arrogance placed his case in jeopardy. Whether or not he believed he was above them all, Harkness still had the final say in his potential reinstatement. Raine contemplated how to drive that fact into his skull before he managed to turn this meeting into one big waste of time for everyone involved. Danvers maintained a look of puzzlement while glancing between them, apparently aware she had missed something. All the while, Bannon filled the dead air with his complimentary soundtrack of relentless coughing and hacking.
Then, before anyone had a chance to throw the next verbal jab, an idea struck her.
"Hey, why not merge the science team with Pinkerton's plan of reprogramming robots?" Raine suggested, stepping forward as four heads swiveled in her direction. "This guy's an insufferable asshole, but a smart one. Form the team under his lead for that project, and you'll have a small army of synthetic troops ready in three weeks tops."
Danvers frowned at her. "Why should we put him in charge? Also, a project of that magnitude will require a collection of neutralized units. Where are we going to find enough decommissioned robots to even consider it?"
Raine smirked. "I could draw you a map from here to Raven Rock listing all the Protectrons, Securitrons, and Mister Gutsies I've put down over the last seven months. As for making Pinkerton the big science boss, do you really have to ask? You give him control of the lab, he gives you the means to defend the water caravans, everyone's happy."
"It's not that simple," Harkness told her, moving around his desk to stand closer. "We're looking at sending people we can't spare to retrieve those units. Our manpower has already decreased by fifteen percent since this outbreak started, and more residents are getting sick every day. Then there's the issue of Pinkerton using up resources to fuel his research, not to mention some ethical concerns over his medical-based procedures…"
He trailed off when he met Raine's knowing gaze.
Oh, I see now. Looks like I'm not the only one who holds grudges.
"Write up a contract for his ethical use of the lab," she said, venturing a guess on Harkness's reluctance to hand it over to Pinkerton. "Establish a limit on resource consumption. Outline the terms of confidentiality that he has to follow. If he breaches any of it, revoke his rights to the lab and send him back to his shitty workshop. Hell, boot him from the city if that's what it comes to. But honestly, I don't think you have to worry about it. I've got a feeling that from now on, when he makes an agreement with a patient, he'll follow through."
Pinkerton had quieted down while she spoke on his behalf, and Harkness drew himself to his full height as he watched her. Raine noticed the repeated dilation and contraction of his pupils, a subtle tic she'd come to recognize as his computational reasoning process. Although she harbored no doubts that he could throw out an unremitting stream of rebuttals to her points, an exclusive understanding formed among the three of them in the stillness that followed. And as she searched Harkness's eyes, she suspected something more.
Perhaps he was computing not the logic of the suggestions, but whether or not it was time to place his trust in her.
"Say I agree to this, we send out the chosen members of the team to bring back the robots, you program them for our cause, and we stop worrying about water transports," Harkness remarked, proving he'd already intellectualized the viability of the plan. "Would you be willing to fulfill one more condition in exchange for complete control over the science lab, Pinkerton?"
Raine elbowed the old scientist when he hesitated.
"All right, all right. Yeah, sure, what is it?" he growled, rubbing his ribs.
Harkness's expression became grave. "Find the root cause of the epidemic spreading throughout the city. Accomplish that after the reprogramming project, and you'll have the lab at your disposal for whatever scientific pursuits you wish."
Raine chewed the inside of her cheek as Pinkerton scratched his head furiously.
"You want him to figure out what's slowly killing that guy?" she questioned, ignoring Bannon's noise of indignation when she jabbed her thumb toward him. "What if he can't?"
"Yeah," Pinkerton agreed at once, the objection written all over his countenance. "I'm an electrician, a general scientist, and a surgeon, not a pathologist. You're barking up the wrong tree for that."
Danvers, who had hung back to analyze the situation, piped up. "As a council member, it will be part of your responsibility. Harkness is already handling the security side of the investigation. If you want to be the science representative of the council again, you need to try to help us out with this."
"He will," Raine answered for Pinkerton when he paused again. We all know he's going to end up going along with it, anyway.
He bristled at her interjection. "Now wait just a minute—"
"We're not asking you to go into the specifics of pathology and disease." Harkness glanced at Danvers and then returned to the other side of his desk to sift through the papers, evidently brushing aside his personal hang-ups with Pinkerton. "My personnel tracked the outbreak to the upper deck, but we haven't discovered anything else. And we can't keep up the investigation for much longer since I need my officers back on their regular patrols. We're looking to you to find the source, Pinkerton."
Raine witnessed the intense deliberation on the scientist's face, but also picked up on the implication Harkness seemed to send her way. Regular patrols?
If he was suggesting what she thought, and the security force would no longer have to tail and harass her, she might start hating the chief a little bit less.
"So how about it, old man?" she pressed, turning to Pinkerton. "You do a few favors for the city, make me your assistant, and then you get that sweet facility to claim as your retirement package. It'll work out."
He glared at her. "Already offering yourself up for hire, huh?"
"As if you didn't see that coming," Raine shot back. "Electronics and computer programming are my field of specialty, so at least I'll know what the fuck I'm doing with that job."
Pinkerton held his glare for several more moments before sighing in resignation. "You know, this isn't what I was thinking when I said you'd be able to 'figure it out,'" he told her, wiping his forehead. "So my own research goals are on the backburner again, eh? I'm going to be dead before I can pick up where I left off on my work."
"Get real. You're too much of a stubborn bastard to die before you finish your life's calling."
He grunted. "True."
Harkness leaned over his desk, using his palms to brace himself on the surface. "What do you think, Bannon?" he called to the other council member. "Is this basis enough to grant Pinkerton's reinstatement to the council and appoint him head of the science lab?"
Bannon shot them a baleful stare over his handkerchief. "Like I said when you dragged me in here," he wheezed, "I don't give a molerat's ass either way. I just want to go back to sleep."
The security chief straightened and nodded. "All right, then. Welcome back to the council, Pinkerton. Follow Danvers, and she'll work with you on a schedule and a list of tasks. We've got some major plans coming up, so don't skimp on the paperwork."
Raine felt a surge of relief as Pinkerton muttered a taut, "Hallelujah," and accompanied Danvers out the door. Bannon hopped up as quickly as his weak body could manage, stumbling after them while Raine prepared to follow suit. Now that the primary hurdle had passed, she grew more optimistic about her prospects. If everything went well, she anticipated returning to work on electronics and banking on caps in the very near future.
The instant she took a step toward the exit, however, Harkness's voice stopped her.
"Sinclair."
She slumped her shoulders and let out a long, exasperated breath. "Now what did I do?"
"If you have a minute, I want to talk to you."
"I don't," she replied, eyeing him tersely.
While she appreciated the gradual alteration in his opinion of her, she found their one-on-one conversations unnerving. Something in his recent demeanor hinted at a new interest in the truth behind her reputation. And although she understood that he merely sought to make sense of her confounding nature, she had no desire to share any details of her thought process, her background, or her history.
Public liberation ranked low; acceptance, lower.
Unfortunately for her, Harkness would not be denied.
"Close the door."
x-x-x-x-x
A/N: I went on an international trip last month and couldn't find time to work on this chapter, but I'm back now, so here it is!
