A/N: Sorry for the delay everyone. Thank you to my new followers; I hope everyone continues to enjoy this story. For now, we take a step back into the past.
Postpartum
Chapter Ten
Before the bombs fell.
Nora set her briefcase on the conveyor belt and watched as it rolled through the x-ray machine. The security guard watching the screen didn't react as it passed through, except for the slightest of nods of clearance.
"All right, ma'am, if you'll just step through the metal detector," another security guard directed.
Her hand fluttered anxiously to her belly, swollen at thirty-two weeks along. "I'm sorry; I know it's protocol, but I've been careful to avoid any form of radiation as my obstetrician told me. I've even gotten rid of my microwave at home. Can't you please allow this one exception?"
The security guard took in her sugary sweet tone as his eyes trailed the outline of her dress, which was deliberately skin-tight. It flaunted the silhouette of her body and proved her innocence by showing she simply did not have the room to conceal any weapons.
When he looked undecided for a moment too long, Nora offered him a seductive wink. "I'll let you frisk me instead. My husband is currently deployed—"
He instantly flushed a deep red and ushered her through. "That won't be necessary." Of course it wouldn't. A security guard frisking a pregnant lawyer would certainly earn some odd looks and raised eyebrows, especially if her husband was off serving his patriotic duty.
Even so, it did not deter him from sampling a handful of her right buttock as she passed. Nora did her best to conceal her revulsion. She made it through the security check, at the very least. As far as any of the guards knew, she was not carrying any weapons.
But this was Vault-Tec, New England Regional Office, and she was the infamous Hawthorne lawyer investigating HIPAA violations and other unethical practices resulting in a class action lawsuit. Nora wasn't stupid; her 10mm pistol was holstered against her inner thigh.
She soon found herself waiting on an uncomfortably hard bench, the secretary perched at her desk like an overseeing owl busy with the computer monitor before her. The receptionist had accepted Nora's sign-in before instructing her to wait just outside the regional manager's office. Nora obliged, painfully aware that she had arrived five minutes before their scheduled appointment at noon. The practiced lawyer suppressed any urge to squirm or shift or fidget with the hem of her dress. She took the uncomfortable seat and sciatic nerve pain with as much grace as she could manage.
The five minutes before noon blurred by quickly. Nora steadily eyed the analog clock above the office door, the pristine yellow logo of Vault-Tec emblazoned perfectly across the face.
12:00. 12:05.
The receptionist remained undeterred at the quickly disappearing time. She took a phone call with a journalist and scheduled an interview for the regional manager. She made another phone call to human resources, ensuring the next scheduled paychecks had cleared the bank before she returned to the rapid-typing of her computer.
12:10.
Nora cleared her throat, a concise, deliberate sound. "Excuse me, I have an appointment with Ralph Jones."
Without looking up, the receptionist said, "Mr. Jones will see you shortly."
When it was 12:15, Nora recognized this for what it was—a display of power and intimidation. She would not give in no matter how much pain she was in.
Finally, at 12:28, the phone rang, and the receptionist said to her, "Mr. Jones will see you now, Mrs. Hawthorne."
She was not easily intimidated. She stood up, stretching her lower back and proceeded inside the office.
The executive desk was large and ornate, almost swallowing the lanky sliver of a man behind it. The back wall was made entirely out of glass windows, back-lighting him like a silhouette. He did not rise to greet her, only offered a sheer apology, thin veiled by a smug ego. "I appreciate your patience Mrs. Hathorne—"
She would not let him mistake her patience for compliance. "Hawthorne, Mr. Jones. Nora Hawthorne. Surely you've had time since my arrival to properly learn my name."
His smile was wide and toothy. "Of course. Where are my manners? Please sit." The chair opposite of him was, mercifully, padded and lined. She smoothly sank into it, keeping her briefcase by her feet.
When she was seated, Mr. Jones jumped to his feet and went to the minibar behind his desk. "Can I offer you a drink? I have scotch, bourbon, wine—"
"No thank you, Mr. Jones."
"Please, call me Ralph."
"Ralph."
He returned to his desk with two champagne flutes anyway, both filled with the bubbly golden liquid. "I don't usually care for dry champagne, but I had this shipped from California. It's your favorite, correct?"
Nora felt her fingers tense and her throat tighten. She didn't bother to ask him how he knew that. Vault-Tec had many resources, spies, surveillance. Of course he had taken time to research her. She gave him a thin smile. She would not be intimidated.
"Normally is it my favorite. However, given my current state, I have abstained from alcohol for the time being."
"I'm sure one drink wouldn't hurt," he said with a wink before draining his glass.
Hers remained untouched.
He set his empty flute down. "What can I do for you?"
"I believe you were the one that asked me to come here, Mr. Jones."
"Ralph," he corrected harshly. Before she could respond, he picked up the phone and dialed his secretary. "Marisol, I want no interruptions," he ordered curtly before slamming the phone back onto the receiver.
Nora didn't flinch.
"You've been making waves, Nora. Not just here in the Commonwealth. You've got HQ nervous. The only lawyer brave enough to file and investigate a class action lawsuit."
"Vault-Tec's nervousness just confirms that there should be a lawsuit," she pointed out.
"Why hasn't it been done before, then?"
Nora's smile was confident. "I don't scare easily."
He chuckled. "You're right, of course. I've read all of your public hearings, cases no one will dare to touch, yet you always come out on top."
"So you must know that you and your bosses aren't going to win. If you want a settlement, I'll have to speak to your CEO."
"My CEO doesn't intend to get involved. It would just further validate your crusade. He's delegated the task to me, and I don't plan on settling."
"How could you not?" she asked incredulously. "I have countless documented interviews proving poor and unethical working conditions. And your vaults? Little more than demented torture projects that you're calling 'social experiments!'"
"That won't matter soon. Your law office has already agreed to not push legal action. Something about pissing off a government-backed corporation just doesn't sit right with them. But that just leaves you, Nora. You've established yourself enough as a fearless attorney that you don't need the support of the your office. But how hard can silencing one woman be? There's a few simple answers. Kill you or bribe you. Killing you would only make you a martyr—bad public image for us, even if it was staged as an accident."
"I don't accept bribes, Ralph," she said. "So you might as well accept defeat."
He continued as if he hadn't heard her, standing up to turn and face the city behind him. "Have you been following the news with China? I'm sure you have since your husband is deployed in Alaska. You must be following it very closely, checking the Killed-In-Action list daily."
"What does my husband have to do with this?" she snapped.
"Everyone has something they hold very dear to them. With that baby in your belly and your patriotic husband, I'm guessing yours is your family. It's an honorable priority, Nora. Do not be ashamed."
"Are you threatening my family?" she asked in a low, thick voice.
"Of course not, Nora. The very opposite actually. I'm offering them asylum. You see, there's a reason Vault-Tec has grown so rapidly. The threat of nuclear war increases each day, as I'm sure you're well aware. What would happen to your family then? Your child you've gone to such lengths to bring into this world? If you dropped this whole case, I can reserve spots for you and your whole family in a vault."
"Knowing what I know, why would I want to stay in a vault? I don't want to become part of your social experiment."
"You should know that not every vault is designed the same way. We have controlled variables, non-sinister options. Here is the vault I have available for you. It's even close to home."
He passed over a file folder labeled Vault 111. She cautiously took it into her hands before slowly flipping through the pages of protocols, Overseer instructions, and personnel files.
"Cryogenics?" she said.
"Not the most glamorous one, I admit. But imagine waking up to a time in the future when there is no more war, nuclear bombs and radiation. Civilization starts anew. A new chance for your family, for your child."
"Why would I accept this?" Noras hissed, her composure faltering. She could not deny the temptation was certainly there.
"You accept it for your family," he asserted. "Protect them."
"And forsake my clients? Everything I've worked for?"
"The way I see it, Nora baby, you ain't got much choice. Because if you accept this, my only choice is to kill you, and I will do it, even if it's a PR mess. Save your family or get you and your child killed.
The gravity of her position weighed heavily upon her. She was not afraid of dying, but she thought of Nate, of their baby. She cast around for some way out. "Wouldn't it be obvious that I took a bribe? That I just mysteriously dropped this case? That would look bad on both of us. I can't have my reputation ruined like that."
"I've thought of that, because you're right. If you dropped the case altogether, it would be too suspicious. I've arranged for you to run into an accident once you leave this building. You'll be attacked, injured, but nothing serious enough to harm you or the baby. But, it will cause enough concern to force you to go onto maternity leave. You won't be bothered by the press or clients."
"That still looks bad on you if I'm attacked outside your building," she pointed out.
"Rogue muggers are easier to deal with than lawsuit settlements, publicity wise. You play your part, speak to no one, and I'll get you into a vault. I might even pay your medical bills. You can only benefit from this."
Nora was quiet for a long while thinking of the inevitable outcome. She finally managed through clenched teeth, "My husband can't know anything about this."
Ralph Jones gave a short laugh, triumphantly clapping his hands together. "It will be our secret then."
He circled the length of his desk, and suddenly his eyes looked hungry, making her skin rise with gooseflesh. He positioned himself directly between her and the desk, leaving little space between them. She could guess what was coming next.
"As a gesture of your obedience—"
"No," she said thickly.
He was undeterred, reaching out to stroke her collarbone. "No one will interrupt us or discover us. Now you wore that skin-tight dress for a reason, to flirt your way through the security check so no one would find that pistol you've sneaked in."
She said nothing.
"Come now. The successful female attorney rises through the professional world without a single dalliance? We both know the truth. Seal the deal. Pregnant women are a turn-on for me. Your breasts are very much alluring. Seal the deal; your husband will never know."
With a defeated sigh, she stood. He grasped her hips and turned around until her back was against the desk. He picked up her untouched champagne and offered it to her a second time.
She emptied it in one draught and then lay back as he removed the hidden pistol and pushed her dress up, caressing her thigh, her hip, her buttock.
"You remember my name?"
"Ralph," she gasped breathlessly.
"Good, get used to saying it."
Staff Sergeant Nate Hawthorne was deployed in Anchorage, Alaska, ready to battle-test the new shipment of power armor, when news of his expecting wife reached his ears. A fusion core had just been inserted into his suit when the dispatch was recited to him.
"I'm afraid, sir, there has been a mugging in Boston—"
The rest of the words had difficulty reaching him as blood rushed deafeningly through his ears. The ensign attempting to fit the suit on him gave him adjusting instructions to no avail. Nate only saw the dispatcher's lips move, mouthing inaudible syllables as he found it difficult to swallow.
"N-nora?" he managed through a hoarse throat.
The dispatcher and ensign were oblivious to his condition, deaf to his words.
"The good news is that your child—"
"Please, sir, if you could just move your arm—"
Nate punched the wall of the armory, heeding very little to the fact that ranking officers were nearby. "Nora. Tell me about Nora. What happened? Is she all right?"
The ensign appropriately stepped back, rather jumped back. The dispatcher fumbled with his words. "She was, erm, mugged, stabbed in Boston. She's fine, recovering in the hospital. There was some concern over your unborn child, but there is nothing to worry about. Your family is safe and healthy."
Nate exhaled slowly. Nora was fine. Nora was fine. No need to get worked up. "A pregnant woman mugged?" he repeated suspiciously. "Where in Boston was she?"
"In broad daylight, actually. Just outside the New England Vault Tec offices—"
Nate immediately understood. Nora was pursuing that class action lawsuit against Vault Tec. He knew she would be getting attention. Now it seemed, she was getting the wrong sort of it. It was so obviously staged, an intentional attack.
He disengaged from the power suit. "I need to speak to the CO."
If Vault Tec wouldn't hesitate from assaulting a pregnant lawyer in the middle of the day, it meant that there would be little else they wouldn't resort too. They would attack Nora again if it meant getting her off the case. And Nora was stubborn enough to push it. He knew that they had both agreed—they wouldn't allow the pregnancy to stand in the way of their professional careers. She would continue with her law firm, and he would fight wherever his country deemed it necessary. But his staggering reaction to the possibility of Nora being harmed, or worse, told him that he had made the wrong choice.
"You just got back. Why would we discharge you?" Corporal Chase asked with some measure of humor. The man was tall, severe, with a respectable mustache.
Nate looked down at his hands. He could give so many answers, but he needed to choose the right one. "My wife has been hospitalized. Please, sir. I'll come back as soon as she's recovered."
"I heard about the incident with your wife, staff sergeant," he said ungraciously. "She had it coming to her, don't you think?"
"Excuse me, sir?" Nate asked with no small amount of disgust.
"She's poking the bear. Taking on a big corporation like Vault Tec. I mean, what else do you expect?"
"She's pregnant—" Nate started, incredulously flummoxed.
"Then maybe that's your fault for not covering your junk. Look, I cannot discharge men left and right just because they're a little bit scared. We're fighting a real world here, sergeant. That's more important things than some nosy lawyer."
"That 'nosy lawyer' is my wife," Nate pointed out flatly.
Chase wrinkled his nose at Nate's tone. "I've given you my answer. If you don't report on the line tomorrow morning, I'll have you looking down the barrel of my pistol for desertion. Am I clear?"
Nate looked at the ground, fuming, his jaw tight. "Yes, sir."
Nora woke up, blinking uncomfortably at ugly, warm hospital lights. Her mouth was dry, and her lips felt cracked and caked with nasty mouthfeel. She tried rubbing her tongue against them to alleviate the discomfort but to no avail. Her back and neck hurt, and she felt exhausted despite being unconscious for what she was sure was several hours.
Then she realized she wasn't alone in the room, and it was the face of the last person she'd ever want to see. Ralph Jones.
She fixed him with the most hostile glare she could manage. "What are you doing here? I've done my part."
He gave a half-smirk. "PR clean up. On behalf of Vault Tec, I'd like to apologized for the unfortunate attack you experienced outside of our building." He gestured to a rather large bouquet on the nearby table, filled with dahlias, carnations, and garden roses.
"Okay, you've apologized and dropped off your gift. Now leave. I never want to see you again." Humiliatingly enough, Nora found she could not even look at him. She was disgusted in him and herself for forsaking her career and committing a moment of infidelity. She rubbed her swollen belly, yet that also alleviated nothing.
"Never again? Come on now. I thought we had a great time."
She fixed her gaze to the window and was ashamed to admit to herself that tears threatened to spring loose.
Jones seemed to take the hint and pity her. He made a move for the door, but then he hesitated. "Actually, I did hear a rumor—"
"I don't care about your fucking rumors." Her voice was thick. The tears were dangerously close.
"Right, you don't care about a certain staff sergeant from the 108th infantry battalion getting injured in combat."
This seemed to break her. A tear leaked down her cheek. Her voice cracked. "Nate? What have you done?"
"It's not what I have done, Mrs. Hawthorne, but your husband. Energy weapon misfiring. Did a number on his leg."
Her chest was tight. She was almost too afraid to ask. "How is—"
"He's fine. Discharged, though. I'm sure that's a sting on his pride. Scheduled to come home in two weeks."
She finally looked at him, still glaring, without a word.
Jones gave a careless shrug. "Don't worry. I'm not stupid. I know he gets a spot in the Vault with you and your child. Good day, Mrs. Hawthorne."
He left her alone then, the heart monitor pulsing metronomically, as Nora clutched desperately at her heart and belly.