Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Fallout.
Author's Note: Hello readers! I think it's been a short while since I last updated, but I have returned and I come bearing gifts. Well, more like a pre-gift. This here chapter leads into the real gift. As always, I hope you enjoy, and please grace me with your reviews because I love to read them.
Chapter Nine
Surreal
Morning came all too soon.
Jane sat at the small kitchen table yawning widely over a steaming mug of coffee and trying to bully her brain into waking up.
"Long night, honey?" James asked, then almost immediately let out a great yawn of his own as he shuffled over to the coffeepot.
"Yeah, I got home a little later than I planned," Jane said dully over the rim of her coffee mug.
"So you and Amata had a good time?" he asked happily, joining her at their small table.
Jane looked down into her coffee and nodded, trying not to look guilty.
"That's good," James said. "I'll be working late again tonight, so if you want to make plans –"
Jane shrugged. "We'll see what happens," she said quietly. "Amata has her own schedule to keep up with."
"Of course, of course," James said, his good mood undeterred by her evasiveness. He checked the time on his Pip-Boy then drank down his coffee and got to his feet. "I better be off. I'll see you at dinner."
He pecked her on the top of her head, told her to have a good day, and then he was gone.
Jane took a few more swigs from her mug, then decided it was time she got going as well. She quickly washed the mugs and put them away, grabbed her backpack and, still yawning, walked at a brisk pace to room seventeen-B.
Butch wasn't there yet, but that didn't surprise her. He was almost always late. Pushing him from her mind, she went straight to her workbench and, with a small thrill of excitement, began unloading her equipment.
Today would be the day. She finally had the parts she required – all that needed doing was for her to assemble the pieces and then she would finally be able to conduct a proper test fire... though perhaps she ought to wait until tonight to test it. Her father had given her leave to make plans, giving her a full evening to conduct her experiment.
By eleven o'clock Butch had still not shown up for work. Jane had finished her modifications and taken care of a customer, but her mind was starting to wander... and worry. Had he been discovered after they had parted ways last night? She bit her bottom lip and found herself poking her head out and looking up and down the corridor. What if he had been caught? Would he rat her out to save his own neck? Jane almost snorted in answer. Of course he would. In a heartbeat. But if that were the case, she would have already been taken in for questioning and her equipment confiscated.
No, she told herself firmly, the dolt was likely having a lie in, or was off fooling around. Shaking her head, Jane went back to her workbench, but barely two minutes later she heard the salon door slide open and looked over her shoulder in time to see Butch swagger into their conjoined workshop. He stopped when he spotted her, gave her a once-over, and smiled jauntily. "Worried I wouldn't turn up?" he asked arrogantly.
Jane flushed in embarrassment, meanwhile trying to appear completely unconcerned. "More along the lines of worried you'd been caught out after curfew and turned me in," she retorted.
Butch's grin evaporated and was replaced with a scowl. "That's really harsh, baby."
Jane flushed even deeper and turned back to her workbench where she fiddled aimlessly with her tools. "Are you saying you wouldn't? I thought I was dealing with a big, bad Tunnel Snake."
Butch went quiet, and Jane felt a grim relief that at least some things hadn't changed. Then, before the tension in the air could become too awkward, she said, "I finished it."
"Is that right," came Butch's voice from near his shelves. He sounded vaguely interested, and Jane gave him a quizzical glance over her shoulder. He was collecting his tools from his storage shelf; he would have looked cool and uninterested, but his eyes were narrowed and cold, and Jane could see a muscle twitching in his jaw.
"That's right," she said uncertainly. "I already installed the new parts. I'll be orchestrating a test fire tonight. Do you want to join me?"
"If you don't think I'll turn you over to the Overseer," Butch said coldly.
Jane was stunned by his tone, but Butch had turned his back to her and did not see her face.
"What's your problem?" she asked.
"My problem?" he said, turning around to glare menacingly at her. "I don't have the problem, baby. I'm the one who took a chance helping you out. If you don't know who you can trust, I say that's your problem."
Jane was speechless. She mouthed wordlessly at him and nothing came out, but then Butch sneered down at her, sneered as though she were beneath him, and Jane felt a horrible mixture of hurt and burning anger churning away inside her.
"Are you suggesting I should trust you?" she demanded, taking refuge in anger. "Like you've never given me good reason not to? Or does everything get washed away because you've helped me out once?"
"You know what, forget this," Butch growled, shoving his tool case back onto the top shelf. "I'm outta here." Halfway through the door, he stopped and glared back at her. "And next time you need something, you can just go ask your friend Amata. I'm sure she'll go right behind her Daddy's back to steal something for one of your little pet projects."
And then he was gone.
Jane stared at the door he'd disappeared through in complete silence for several minutes, and then, seething indignantly, grabbed the tools of her trade and dumped them haphazardly in the parlor. Muttering to herself, she went about setting up her station in preparation for her afternoon appointments.
"Who does he think he... never asked him to... my problem... he's the one with a problem –"
"Bad timing?"
Jane spun around to see Freddie Gomez standing alone at the entrance of the parlor, looking both apprehensive and amused. "If you like, I can come back tomorrow."
"No, no, it's all right," Jane said, trying to force her lips into a smile. "Please come in and take a seat."
Freddie sat on the tattoo bench while Jane gave her equipment a final once-over, double checking that her tattoo gun was adjusted back to the lowest setting.
"So, you finally made up your mind?" she asked, trying to sound pleased rather than impatient.
"Yep, I'm gonna do it this time," Freddie said pleasantly.
"Same thing as last time?"
"And the time before that," he affirmed.
Jane gave him a curious look; Freddie was unusually cheerful. Typically, he was morose and moody, not sitting and smiling vaguely to himself as though all was right in the world. Shrugging to herself, she began riffling through her drawings until she found the design she had originally made for him weeks ago. She found it near the bottom of the pile; it was a simple design of a heart with the initials C.K. drawn ornately in the center. Jane had little doubt who the initials referred to, and she had even less doubt that Freddie's affections were vastly misplaced.
Not unlike my own, a wayward voice muttered inside her head, and Jane froze where she stood, staring blankly at the picture. I do not have misplaced affections, a very indignant and stubborn voice insisted, not for anyone, especially that stupid Tunnel Snake. Determinedly she pulled herself back to the task at hand.
"Have you decided where you want it?" she asked.
"On my left bicep," Freddy said, already stripping off the upper half of his jumpsuit. Jane watched indifferently until he was situated, then began preparing his skin by cleaning it and removing the fine hairs. When she finally touched the laser to his skin for the first time, he did not cringe away as she had expected, or even squeal like a little girl, but sat completely still, humming tunelessly to himself and barely paying attention to what was going on around him.
"So... how're things going?" she asked tentatively, stealing curious glances at him whenever she lifted the laser. "How's work?"
"Work is good," he replied placidly. "It's the same thing everyday, but at least it's not so bad when Amata supervises."
"I see," Jane murmured, still observing his unusually good mood with confused curiosity. "And how're things at home?"
"The same," he said indifferently, and did not elaborate.
"Uh huh." Then, a few minutes of silence later, "So... you seem rather cheerful. Has anything good happened?"
Freddie shrugged his other shoulder vaguely and did not answer. He did not look irritated by her questioning, but she decided not to press the issue and was left to silently wonder what had suddenly possessed Freddie to have the initials of a woman who cared nothing for him seared permanently into his skin.
By the end of the day, Jane's ire had fully returned. Butch had not reappeared all afternoon and it had been she that had had to send away his clients and make excuses for his absence. The least pleasant by far had been Christine Kendall, who had not wanted to believe that Jane had no idea where Butch had wandered off to and had demanded that Jane make it her top priority to alert her when he finally returned.
By dinner time she was muttering angrily to herself all the way to the diner where she joined her father, grandmother, and cousin at the table in the far back.
"Hello, sweetheart. Bad day at work?"
Jane forced a smile as she sat down with her tray.
"Not really. Just a difficult customer this afternoon."
"Oh? Did you handle it all right?"
"Yes, Daddy," she answered, a little exasperated. "I haven't forgotten your lecture on being gracious even when others make it difficult."
James smiled. "That's my girl. Just don't forget that these people will be your clients for the rest of your life. A little patience now can save you unneeded hardship latter."
"I know, I know," Jane muttered, prodding her food aimlessly with her fork.
"Now, James, don't lecture the poor girl here," her grandmother intervened with a small wink in Jane's direction. "I'm sure she did everything you would have expected of her and more."
"Of course, Mama Palmer," James said. "Jane knows she has always made me proud."
Jane glanced covertly at her father, feeling faintly nauseous. Would he be proud of her if he knew what she'd been up to last night? Or if he knew she was building a laser gun, all the while knowing full well that the possession of weapons was explicitly forbidden to all but the Overseer and Security personnel? No, he probably wouldn't. He would be angry at worst, and certainly disappointed. For all her life he'd tried to impress upon her how imperative it was that she follow the rules and remain in the Overseer's good graces... but then, he'd also nurtured her ability to think for herself and had even broken the rules himself by giving her a BB gun for her tenth birthday. He'd warned her himself that even if it was just a toy, the Overseer would still consider it a weapon. Was what she was doing so much worse? It wasn't like she wanted to hurt anyone with it.
"Jane... sweetheart, are you all right?"
Jane started as her father's voice broke through her private musings. He was watching her with an expression of concern, and she force another smile.
"I'm fine, just a little tired," she said lamely. "I think I'll just go home."
"Of course, honey," James said, though he continued to watched her worriedly. "Would you like me to come with you? The Clinic can always wait –"
"No... no," Jane said quietly. "I'll probably just turn in." She was already getting to her feet and collecting her tray. "I know your work is important. I'll be fine."
"All right, honey. I'll be home late again, so I'll see you in the morning."
Jane nodded, bid goodnight to her grandmother and Jonas, bussed her tray and left for the small apartment she and her father shared.
Once there, however, she did not go straight to bed. She spent at least an hour tidying the apartment, lost in her own dark mood as she cleaned every surface, vacuumed the floor and the furniture, and disappeared into her room to pick up the general clutter that built up throughout the week. Only when she sat down on her bed and looked down at the backpack near her feet did her mood solidify into thoughts. Carefully, she opened the bag and tipped it over her bed. The plastic cases tumbled across her pink quilt and she opened the largest among them to reveal the laser gun. It looked so small, so harmless. Just another tool. But through her actions it had become something more. Now it was a weapon, and though she never intended to use it as such, it was still just as dangerous. She had yet to give any serious thought to how much trouble she would be in if this were ever discovered. She'd stolen the parts she needed with very little hesitation and even lied about where she was going and what she was doing. She had impersonated a fellow Vault resident who would very likely take the fall if her pilfering was ever discovered; even if Christine was as unpleasant as anyone could be, she didn't deserve to be disciplined for something she hadn't done. She had done so much wrong, and for what purpose? For a morbid desire to pursue a mere shadow of the life she believed she should have and couldn't let go of? To gain knowledge she could never apply, or even discuss with her loved ones? She was risking so much by her own recklessness, not just for herself, but for her father as well. The Overseer could so easily punish him for not knowing what was going on inside his own home.
When it came right down to it, she didn't have much of a choice. She would have to undo what she'd done. It just wasn't worth the risk.
With grim resolution, she opened her tool box, but as she was poised to pry open the casing, she hesitated, her fingers hovering over it. Despite all reason, it seemed like such a waste to take it apart, to throw away all her hard work when she hadn't yet gotten the chance to test it. It couldn't hurt, could it? She had the whole night ahead of her, and first thing tomorrow she could take it apart. After all she'd done to get to this point, she at least wanted to see if it even worked.
Decided that her course was reasonable, she quickly packed away the gun and stuffed the cases back into her backpack, then slung it over her shoulder and dashed out the door.
Now the question was, where should she go? She could go down the Reactor Level, but she had been going there quite regularly as of late. While she had carefully avoided both cameras and Security, someone might have noticed her coming and going, and besides, it didn't seem like the smartest place to test an energy weapon –
"Evening, Jane. What has you out at this time of night?"
Having been lost in thought, Jane looked up just in time to avoid colliding with Officer Gomez. She stopped dead, uncertain what she ought to say, but Officer Gomez kept on talking before she could speak.
"It's just past curfew, you know. You really ought to get back home."
"Oh!" Jane said, thinking quickly. "I'm sorry, Officer Gomez. I just realized that I'd forgotten my sketchpad at the parlor and I have some work to finish – you know, before I open up tomorrow. I was just going to get it and forgot to check the time."
"Oh, I see," Gomez said genially, glancing at her backpack and accepting her tale without question. "Would you like me to escort you so no one gives you any trouble?"
"No, but thank you," Jane said politely. "I won't be long. I should be fine on my own."
Gomez hesitated over accepting her refusal; the Doc had always done good by him and everyone else in the Vault, and it seemed only proper that he at least watch out for his daughter, but on the other hand, he knew Jane to be more than capable of handling herself and didn't think much of intruding when she obviously preferred her own company right now.
"All right then, if you say so," he said.
Jane had no choice then but to take off in the direction of the Atrium. Now what was she going to do? Could she conduct her tests in her workshop? The area was a little cramped, but if she proceeded cautiously it should be safe. The back room was well insulated by the parlor, and unless someone actually came inside, she wouldn't likely be discovered. It seemed like a good plan for the moment, so with a new spring in her step, she picked up her pace.
Minutes later she was closing the door behind her in the darkness of the parlor. She didn't dare risk turning on the lights, so she was forced to walk blindly across the floor to the next door, but before her fingers reached the touch-pad, she heard a sound that made her heart go still in her chest. There was soft laughter coming from the other side of the door; a soft, feminine giggle followed by a lower, more masculine laugh. She knew of only one man who would be in there for any reason, and at this time of night, given what she'd just heard, that reason could not be anything good.
Jane stood there in the darkness and pressed her ear to the cold steel of the door, straining to hear more while a small battle ensued inside her. There was a voice in her head, the good Jane who followed the rules and lived to make her Daddy proud, that was ordering her to simply turn around and leave. Nothing good could come from opening that door. She was smart enough to guess what was happening on the other side, and she would be better off returning home and forgetting the incident.
Not so, argued the other voice, the one less spoken, but all the same, the one that had been growing more and more active over the past several weeks. This voice whispered inside her mind, egging her onward, until her fingers almost itched to activate the touch pad. Why shouldn't she open the door? This was her place of work. She had every right to be here. And just maybe she would finally see that Butch was the exact same good-for-nothing Tunnel Snake she'd always known and that would be enough. She could stop feeling so confounded by this friendly-enemy relationship that they had somehow started and everything could go back to normal.
Taking a deep breath, she brushed her fingers over the touch pad; the door slid open and she switched on the lights.
Three loud gasps echoed throughout the room, and the loudest came from Jane's own lips. She wanted to blink, to look away, but it was like watching some horrifying trauma in the Clinic. Standing before her, locked in Christine's embrace, was not Butch DeLoria, but Freddie Gomez! They both stood there, staring at her in stunned silence, and she stared back, equally speechless, unable to assimilate what she was seeing. Christine... and Freddie... Freddie and Christine... It was so... so... laughable. So surreal. So impossible! How could something like this even happen? The notorious snob Christine would never give Freddie the Freak the time of day. But here they were, in her workshop no less!
"What are you doing in here?" she finally asked, unable to think of anything else to say.
Freddie and Christine looked at each other, and after a prolonged silence, Freddie spoke up. "I was walking by on my way home, and I saw the lights still on. When I looked inside, Christine –"
"– was looking for Butch," Christine cut in. "He missed my appointment this afternoon, and I thought –"
"That he would be here after hours?" Jane asked incredulously. It sounded like a ridiculous tale to her ears.
"Yeah, something like that," Christine said lamely, looking more embarrassed than Jane had ever seen her.
"Well, as you can see, he's not here," she said. "And you two really shouldn't be here either."
There was an awkward pause, and then Freddie spoke up again. "Right, lets get going then. Shall we, Christie?"
"I – I'll catch up to you," she said, giving Jane a shifty look. "You go ahead."
Freddie looked wordlessly between the two of them as though he wanted to object, but apparently he did not have the nerve to contradict her. He nodded and dashed past Jane on his way out, then disappeared into the darkened corridor.
Now that she was alone with Christine, Jane felt a bit nervous. What could Christine possibly have to say to her? Could she know that Jane had impersonated her and stolen Vault supplies under her name? Would Butch have told her? Or had she already been questioned by Security?
"You won't tell anyone, will you?"
Jane started, looking at Christine as though she'd lost her mind as the words sank in. Was she seriously asking her to keep her secret?
Trying to act indifferent, Jane shrugged. "Who would I tell?"
"Oh – well, you know..." she said, trailing off meaningfully.
Jane stared at her in confusion, but when Christine looked around the workshop, it suddenly clicked. "You don't want Butch to know?"
Looking very uncomfortable, Christine nodded.
"Why?" Jane asked, still confounded. "You don't think he's faithful to you, do you?"
Christine flinched at her bluntness, but it was a well-known truth. "It's not just that... it's –" She looked out the way Freddie had left.
"Oh. I see," Jane said coldly, suddenly understanding. "You don't want anyone to know you were with Freddie."
Christine looked even more embarrassed and even a bit ashamed, though of Freddie or herself, Jane couldn't tell.
Jane glared at her. She wasn't exactly friends with Freddie, but all the same, he was Amata's cousin, and he had it bad enough without this floozy stringing him along. "So you don't mind using him on Butch's night off, so long as no one knows about it. That would just destroy you, wouldn't it? Imagine what everyone would say if they knew Christine Kendall had to resort to Freddie the Freak."
Christine didn't reply, but glared defiantly at Jane, who was surprised by her lack of retaliation. "Nothing to say?" she asked. "Or does it not matter to you that that poor guy has been pining after you for years? Who cares if he gets hurt so long as no one finds out about your dirty secret?"
Christine looked furious, but for just a second, Jane thought she saw a flicker of pain beneath her perfect, delicate features. How could that be possible? What reason could Christine have to feel hurt? Jane watched her uncertainly as Christine still refused to speak, would say nothing to defend herself. How... unusual. Christine wouldn't take a verbal assault like this from anyone, least of all her.
Seeing that she would get nothing more out of her, Jane shrugged. "It's your business," she said. "I just stopped into work to fetch something. So far as I'm concerned, I didn't see anything."
Christine looked stunned by this sudden change of tactics, and even looked as though she wanted to ask why she was suddenly letting it go, but then she simply nodded and left quickly.
Jane stared after her, then vigorously shook her head. What was this Vault coming to? She hadn't felt so befuddled since she'd gotten her G.O.A.T. results. Had Christine simply reached a whole new level of deperate? It didn't seem possible when Butch had just been with her the night before. Maybe she really liked Freddie? That seemed even less possible. Shaking her head again, Jane turned off the light and left the parlor. She had come here looking for answers, but all she seemed to have was more questions. Even worse, it was no longer a good idea to conduct her experiment here. There was always a chance Christine and Freddie could come back.
But where could she go now? Aside from the Reactor Level, she didn't have any other place where she could count on being left alone. There was the science lab; at this time of night it was almost guaranteed to be empty, but with her father working tonight, it was too risky when he might possibly need use of it.
Her feet wandered aimlessly for several minutes as she instinctively avoided the cameras. Perhaps it would be better if she gave up the whole idea and went home. She could only find trouble if she stayed out wandering around like this –
As she turned her steps back in the direction of home, an unexpected noised startled out of her reverie. Laughter was coming from around the bend at the far end of the hallway. Loud, crude, rancourous laughter. It didn't take her more than one guess to know who it was coming from, and mere seconds later, three tall, burly, teenage boys wearing identical leather jackets rounded the corner.
Jane's heart began to pound; she had no time to flee, had nowhere to hide. The only hallway leading off this corridor was on the far side, closer to the Tunnel Snakes than to her. They were laughing and talking amongst themselves, and it was Butch who glanced up first and saw her standing there. His expression turned to one of mild surprise; their eyes met and locked, and Jane was vividly reminded of their harsh words to each other that very morning. Would he take this opportunity to retaliate? She glared at him just in case he would, daring him with her eyes to try something, and for just a moment, he looked like he would happily take her up on that offer, but before he could decide, Wally Mack looked to see what had Butch so distracted, and immediately his thin lips cut a malicious grin across his brutish face.
