James pressed his forefinger and thumb to the bridge of his nose where a dull throb was threatening to turn into a full-blown headache. A bunch of papers were spread across the entirety of his desk, each one informing him of a different thing that needed to be done. At the moment, he was focusing on a series of calculations from the previous evening's small-scale experiments on the water chip. He'd read the number "17" at least three times over when the sound of a knock crashed through his thoughts.
He jumped visibly as his heart rate shot up. He placed a hand to his chest in shock and glanced up. Sara stood in the doorway, looking like a like a terrified young child in blue pajamas, not a seventeen year old young woman.
"If this is a bad time…" she said.
"Not at all," he told her. "I was just catching up on some work."
As he looked at her a few seconds longer he realized the look of terror on her face ran deeper than a childish fear of interrupting a parent at work. The blood was draining from her face, and she kept curling and uncurling her hands into fists.
"Honey, what's wrong?"
"Dad, I'm gay."
He was simultaneously shocked and not at all surprised. His first, and perhaps most irrational, thought was that at least he didn't have to worry about threatening any touchy-feely boys.
"Okay," he replied, unsure of what she needed to hear him say. He would tell her anything to quell the terror in her eyes.
"Do you hate me?" she asked, addressing the question to her feet because she suddenly seemed unable to look at him.
Her words cut him like a knife. He knew she had not meant them to hurt but rather to express a truly deep-set fear. But the idea that she could ever even dream that he didn't love every bit of her, from the top of her red hair to the tips of her toes, made him want to die.
"Do I…honey, how could you even think such a thing?" A second of silent understanding passed between them. James rose to his feet, and Sara ran into his arms.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she sobbed into his shoulder.
"Don't apologize," he insisted, kissing the top of her head and pulling her into the tightest hug he'd ever given. "Don't you ever apologize for who you are. I love every damn aspect of you, Sara, and don't ever forget that."
He placed a gentle hand on her back and swayed slightly on the spot, rocking her just as he'd done seventeen year earlier in the long nights they'd both cried: she because of a demand for formula and he because of Catherine's absence. She shook as she bawled, half from lingering terror at telling her father the truth and half from relief that she'd finally told someone.
"I wanted to tell you ages ago," she said, several minutes later. "But I couldn't. I thought you'd be mad, and I don't want to disappoint you. Or Mom…"
"I know for a fact that your mother would be prouder than you can imagine." Sara sniffled but did not protest, and he took this as a sign to continue. "Let's see, you're seventeen years old and already on track to become this Vault's next doctor. You can mend broken limbs just as well, if not better, than your old man. You can figure out math equations I didn't understand until I was thirty. You're a sincerely kind person. And, so you like women. Hell, I do too. Personally, I think you lucked out, and the only men you'll have to deal with are me and Jonas."
She laughed into his shoulder which caused her to hiccup, and that set him off laughing too.
"You could come in here and tell me you'd killed everyone in this Vault, and I'd still love you, sweetheart. Granted, I'd be mad, but I'd still love you. Got it?"
"Yeah…thanks, Dad." She made no motion to indicate that she wished to be let go of, so he held onto her and thought.
He supposed, when it came down to it, he wasn't surprised much at all. There had been indications: the way Sara doted on Amata, how she'd asked if two people of the same gender could have sex when she was only nine. He'd chalked it up to her being an exceptionally kind-hearted and intuitive girl (although, he admitted to himself, he was, perhaps, a bit biased). But this made sense too.
"Is it Amata?" he asked.
"Yeah," she admitted, still speaking into his shoulder. "It's always been Amata."
"Hey James, I finally got those files you asked for! The computer's been on the fritz lately, so that's why it took me so…oh…sorry." Jonas stopped abruptly in the doorway, a computer chip in hand and his glasses askew with excitement. He strongly resembled a mad scientist.
"No, it's okay," Sara told him, pulling free of her father's hug and wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands.
"What's going on, kiddo?"
She glanced back at James, as though asking his approval. He nodded, knowing Jonas would understand.
"Uh…I'm a lesbian."
"Oh, cool," Jonas said. His expression did not even change, and James silently thanked him for this lack of reaction. "Should I…congratulate you?"
Sara laughed, and her father was glad to hear the sound of it echo off the Vault walls.
"No, that's okay."
"Okay. Hey, did you want to see these files too? They're from about 85 years ago. This lady was out of her mind. She was convinced dead people lived in the walls so she went around 'bleaching' them out with Sugar Bombs."
"Definitely!"
Sara sidled into her usual place, hunched over the glowing computer screen, squished between Jonas and her father. She was exceptionally adaptable. That would make everything easier in the future…
James put his hand on her face and smiled at her.
"You know you've always got Jonas and I, honey."
He could not admit to himself that he was lying to her, and that soon he wouldn't be in this Vault at all.
