This chapter is pretty much a bunch of flashbacks since Butch's mind is going psycho crazy bonkers while he's unconscious.

It's bits and pieces of his past and major things that have effected him either negatively or positively. I also wanted to keep it like a regular dream sequence. In dreams we're not really aware that we're dreaming, even though every now and then you get that flash of "this doesn't seem right." He goes along with these like he did back when they were happening, but something just seems off and he can't put his cute little finger on it. Just in case you wonder why he isn't addressing the dream and questioning things too intently but still getting flashes of reality. This isn't lucid dreaming, after all. It's fluid but chaotic and out of order. Much like my mind.

Anyways! Enjoy the extra long chapter!


Chapter Eleven:
"Teenage Wasteland"


Butch paced back and forth wildly. The alarms sounded in a cacophony of chaos, the red lights flashing against steel metallic walls in sync. A scream sounded from the living room and he bolted in, watching her thrash about the floor. Radroaches nipped and hissed at her as she cowered, her arms guarding her face in vain. Another blood curdling scream escaped her throat and she yelled for him, for anyone, to help. Butch's eyes wandered the room frantically, searching for something- anything to help. His eyes wandered over to the small wooden baseball bat in the corner and he swallowed hard, lunging for it. One of the giant insects noticed his movements and let out a hiss, scuttling over to him. It's tiny feet clicked against the steel grating and Butch shivered at the sound. As it came closer he yelped and jumped away, his heart thumping loudly in his ears. Everything went silent as his eyes bounced between his mother and grotesque bug currently hauling ass towards him.

With one fell swoop, he raised the bat and struck down. It cracked against the roach's shell and the bug retracted for a moment to regain composure. Butch noticed the shell had a small crack but that was it. His hands trembled as the creature charged him again. A coldness settled throughout his limbs, a sort of fear he had never experienced in his short life. God, he was such a fucking pussy. The mighty Butch-man, leader of the Tunnel Snakes, was fucking cowering in his room while a stupid bug tried to get at him. His mother continued to shriek, her voice becoming shriller and weaker. He was running out of time. Another crack to the radroach distracted it long enough for him to run past it. With a swift kick he knocked another roach of the way and pressed the button to slide the doors closed. He needed help, and fast.

He ran out into the halls, watching with curiosity as security ran by him, yelling about how someone was escaping. Whatever was going on, it sure as hell wasn't good. He waved his arms frantically at a few of the guards to try to get them to help, but they paid him no mind and continued down the hall. Butch called out a string of profanities at the useless vault security. His only relative was going to die because he was too chickenshit to take care of it himself. A growl emitted from his throat and he kicked the wall, raising his fist to punch it in frustration. Footsteps echoed through the halls over the sounds of the alarms and he looked up. There, in all her dorky glory, was James' kid. She had a 10mm in her hand and was shuffling low to the ground, her head darting around every corner. Her hair was mussed up and sticking to her face wildly, her plump pink lips parted slightly as she tried to catch her breath. As much as he hated to admit it, she looked kind of... sexy. He shook his head to banish the thought. His eyes wandered back to the gun in her hand a thought struck him.

As quickly as he could, he shuffled up to her. Dolly swung around and pointed the gun at his face, her eyes wide with fear. Blood stains spattered her cheeks and her broken glasses were tucked away neatly into the front pocket of her uniform. Her green eyes were wild and she addressed him momentarily, before assessing that he was not a threat, and turned to continue down the hall. His hand struck out and he caught onto her forearm.

"Nosebleed, I'm so glad you're here," he said frantically, "I need your help."

Dolly tried to yank her arm away, "Fuck off, Butch."

"Please, it's my Ma. She's being attacked by radroaches. I don't know what to do."

Her cold, calculating jade eyes turned to him, "Why should I help you?"

"Because she's my Ma! She's... she's," his voice faltered, desperation working its way through his system, "... she's all I got. Please, nosebl- I mean, Dolly. Please? You're my last hope. I don't wanna lose her."

She seemed to deliberate for a moment, glancing between the stairs at the end of the hall and the door to his and his mom's quarters. With a final shrug she let out a sigh, "Okay. Lead me to her."

Butch dragged her to his room and entered the living room, pointing towards his mom's bedroom towards the back, "She's in there."

Dolly nodded to him and crept swiftly towards the door. The door slid open and Butch cringed at the chorus of hissing that sounded from the room. Dolly let out a yelp and began to fire. He hoped with all his might that she knew how to use the damn thing and didn't hit his mom. A few more screams came from the other woman in the room. The room grew silent and Dolly sat against the wall, breathing heavily, her arms trembling with pent up adrenaline. Butch crept towards the room and peeked his head in, letting out a cry of relief as he saw his mom sitting on the bed. Radroaches laid scattered about the room, their blood smeared against his mother's handed down and cheap looking bedroom rug. Without another word, Dolly turned to him with a nod and shoved past him, moving back towards the hallway.

Butch made sure his mother was okay before chasing after her. "Wait, Dolly, can you tell me what the fuck is going on?"

She turned to him with a sad look, "I can't talk about that right now, Butch. I have to get going."

"Go? Go where?" She didn't respond, turning to leave instead. For some reason, Butch felt like he needed to thank her, but more than just petty words. He needed to show her his gratitude. "Wait!"

He wasn't sure she was going to stop but she did, turning to address him with a frustrated scowl. He hated how adorable she looked, her mouth down turned in almost an endearing skulk. With a small smile he moved towards her and began slipping his arms from the sleeves of his jacket. After it was fully removed he held it out to her, watching as her head tilted to the side questioningly.

"I know it ain't much but... I want you to have my Tunnel Snakes jacket," he watched as her eyes narrowed and he cleared his throat, "it's a thank you for saving my Ma."

"Butch, I couldn't..." she trailed off.

"Just take it, nosebleed." When she didn't move to take it from him he shuffled forward, awkwardly draping it over her shoulders. "There, it looks great on ya."

For the first time in a year, he saw her smile, and it was absolutely stunning. His chest clenched at the site and he watched her with pride as she pulled her arms through the sleeves. Her soft pink lips muttered a 'thank you' before she turned to run towards the stairs. All he saw was the hand stitched snake emblem of his gang disappear before his mom called out to him. He turned to take care of her, the mental picture of his little redheaded hoodlum still fresh in his mind. What was a man to do?

He turned the corner, feeling a bit naked without his jacket. His mom called for him again and he entered her bedroom. Except... it wasn't her room anymore, it was the cafeteria. His mother was gone and where she sat was replaced with red, dingy booths. The lights were dimmed and the low thrum of chatter filled the room. Confused, he swung back around and looked out the door, only to see an open hallway behind him. No red lights. No alarms. Wait... why were there alarms again? He felt his brain squirm, a memory itching for attention but just out of reach. Kind of like when he would walk into a room for something and forget what it was. He turned back around and saw people awkwardly dancing to some three hundred year old tunes, a few others standing against the wall. His eyes wandered to his feet and he noticed that his boots had been replaced with tacky dress shoes. Surprised, he turned to check out his reflection in the glass of the jukebox. Oh... no, this was bad. He tugged at the horrendous bow tie around his neck and the awful deep blue material of his suit.

Across the room, a scuffle broke out. Butch glanced over curiously, only to realize that it was Paul and Wally picking on poor Christine Kendall. Probably bothering her for a dance. Huh, this all seemed mighty familiar. His hand suddenly felt heavy and he looked down. Curled between his fingers was an edition of Grognak... the very one he stole from James' kid. Something felt off but he might as well just worry about that later. With a sigh he plopped down on one of the booths and cracked the comic open with a grin. As he began to read about Grognak cracking some dragon-looking creature's skull (which was pretty sweet), something caught his eye. He looked up and froze.

It was Dolly, and she was... all dolled up. In that moment he thought any other name couldn't fit her better. She wore a silk dress colored mint green. The collar dipped low and in the shape of a V, subtly pushing up the swell of her breasts. It was cinched high at the waist and the skirt was pleated, coming to a stop right above her knees. Her tawny hair was curled in smooth ringlets with one strand tucked behind her ear. Per usual, she wore a black line across the top of her eyelids. If he remembered correctly, the other girls were calling it "cat's eyes" or something like that. He thought that makeup stuff was weird. He must've been staring, because Dolly looked up suddenly. Her mouth dropped open as their gazes locked and she quickly looked away, abashed. Butch felt his face grow hot with embarrassment and buried his face into his comic.

When he looked back up, she was gone, and the door behind him swished closed. He chewed on his bottom lip. Did she want him to follow her? No. No way. Yet... he wanted to go after her. Why? There was no reason for him to care about where she went. She was just an annoying poindexter. But... she did look quite stunning. The way her curly russet hair tucked beneath her jawline and accentuated the milky ivory skin of her neck... ugh, he shook his head. He had to remind himself that this was the same girl who goated him into a fight on her birthday all those years ago, the same girl who got him in trouble after she jumped between him and one of the guys during a fight. They hated each other so... why was the urge to hop to his feet and track her down so overpowering? For some reason, still unknown to him, he placed his comic on the table and stood up. He straightened his bow tie and walked out into the hallway.

Now, if he were a nerd, where would he sneak off to? He tapped his temple in thought as he turned the corner, walking towards the library. Maybe she'd be reading. He found his way to the library and crept into the dark room, keeping an eye out for any lamps or flashlights. It must've been five minutes that he tiptoed around the room like an idiot before realizing that she most definitely wasn't there. He left the room feeling defeated. Maybe she went back to her living quarters. No one was offering to dance with her. He shrugged at the idea and started over to her room. On his way, he heard two people giggling further down the hall. Sensing something juicy was afoot, he snuck down to the end of the hall and peeked around one of the corners. That was a bad move, because as soon as his head popped over the wall, he met the very red faces of Amata and Freddie. Their hands were intertwined. Amata's lipstick was smeared slightly and her hair was falling from her up-do, while Freddy had a goofy smile on his face. Butch's lips cracked into a incredulous grin as he realized that Freddy had Amata's red lipstick on his neck.

He let out a low whistle and the two jumped away from each other. "Hey there love birds, don't mean to interrupt," he sniggered, "but I'm looking for Nosebleed. Ya seen her?"

Amata's eyes narrowed, "Why are you looking for her, Butch? What are you going to do?"

"Shit, nothin' Amata. Can't I ask where she is without bein' accused?"

"No, actually, you can't," she crossed her arms with a huff. "Every time you and her get together it's like a full out brawl. She looks beautiful tonight and I don't want you to break her nose again."

"Aw, c'mon! That was like, one time, okay? I didn't mean to punch her, she just got in the way."

"It was not an accident," Freddie chimed in. "You bragged about it for a week!"

"Nuh-uh! I just teased her a bit, is all. She could handle it."

"She cried," Amata said as she pursed her lips. "She cried and you called her names."

"Even I thought that was low, Butch." Freddie hastily agreed.

The man was pussy-whipped already. Jesus Christ.

"Whatever, man," Butch glared at his friend. "I just want to give her somethin', okay?"

Freddy's hand wandered to Amata's lower back and he leaned in to whisper something into her ear.

Amata's face grew red, "Fine! We passed her about a minute ago, she said she forgot something in the classroom and was going to retrieve it."

Butch sniggered again as the two retreated, "The cafeteria is empty, and the supply closet has no cameras. Just so ya know!"

He tucked his hands into the pockets of his dress pants and continued on his way to the classroom. Briefly he wondered what she had left there that she needed to retrieve so suddenly. The way she left was kind of odd... but that girl was odd, that was for sure. His mind wandered to the time he punched her in the nose. For some reason, he felt like he had been asked about that a lot recently. Again, his brain twitched, and he struggled for a memory just out of reach. He needed to get more sleep, apparently. Shuffling drew him from his thoughts and he realized he had reached the classroom. He heard a voice softly curse and some light, scratching sounds. He entered the room as quietly as he could but the person heard him enter. A small shock of orange popped up from behind Mr. Brotch's desk. Well, this was a surprise. Dolly sat wide-eyed as she stared at him, bobby pins dangling in disarray from her mouth. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped. Something at the back of his mind exploded and a scene began to unfurl before his eyes.

"My Ma made me go to that damn dance," his face wrinkled in distaste, "she made me wear this dumb suit and dress shoes. All I did was sit in the corner and read Grognak while Paul and Wally picked on the girls."

"Wasn't that the night we...?" Dolly trailed off, searching Butch's face.

His mouth slid open for a second before he let out a raspy chuckle, "Aw, hell! It was! That was the night I caught ya in Mr. Brotch's class stealin' all the test answers. I was sure I was dreaming. Little ol' goody two shoes was actually a bad girl deep down."

"I was so sure you were going to turn me in, but you bartered with me and we came to a truce."

When the memory cleared he felt deeply confused. That was Dolly he was talking to but her hair was long and she was wearing funny looking clothes. It almost looked like armor. He remembered the weight of a gun in his hand as they walked through some building. Was that a dream? It seemed too real. She looked older and they were acting like close friends. No... more than friends. The feeling he had in that memory was one of strong affection and a desire to protect. Now that was odd. Incertitude grabbed at him as he wracked his mind. When he finally remembered where was and what he was going, Dolly was staring at him like he had suddenly sprouted a second head. Butch shook his head to banish the crazy thoughts in his mind and languidly walked over to the desk. Dolly had barricaded herself behind it.

"Whatcha doin'?" He asked casually.

"None of your business," she snapped, spitting the bobby pins into her hand. "Why are you here?"

Butch ignored her query, "Are you trying to break into Mr. Brotch's desk? Well I'll be damned, if little miss goody two shoes has a bad streak."

Deja vu.

"Fuck off, Butch," she swallowed hard.

"Make me."

"Look, Butch, can you please just go away? Go read that Grognak that you stole from me and leave me in peace I'm- I'm," she waved towards the desk in frustration, "I'm trying to do something here and it would be wonderful if you left."

"I'll leave, buuuuuut," he pressed his back to the wall and crossed his arms coolly, "you have to tell me what you're doin' first."

"No! Absolutely not, you'll get me in trouble."

Butch examined his hands, trying to act disinterested, "No I won't."

"And why should I believe you? You've spent your whole life making me miserable," she regarded him warily, "what's your angle?"

"Look, Doll," he paused. Why did he call her that? It felt so familiar to call her that. He hoped she didn't notice his awkward pause and stared down at her with a sheepish grin, "I dunno what you're up to but it seems pretty damn sneaky, and I want in on it, yeah?"

"What if I turn you down?"

"You won't," he said with a smug grin.

At this, Dolly laughed. "I can't fucking believe you. Get out of here, you're so ridiculous."

"I told you I'm not leavin' until I get in on this."

She rolled her eyes and banged her forehead against the desk, letting out a groan. "Fuck me... ugh, I really don't want to but... fine."

Butch mentally patted himself on the back for his amazing bartering skills.

Dolly pointed towards the bottom drawer of the desk, "I'm trying to sneak a peak at the grading guide for the GOAT and maybe steal away with a few answer sheets for other tests while I'm at it."

"Why? Ain't that your thing, ya know? You're the bookworm, you actually study for tests," Butch gestured towards himself, "I'm the delinquent who needs to steal all the test answers to get by."

"You know," Dolly sighed, "I hate studying. I'm going to have to take over the clinic after my dad retires and I need to make sure I ace every test. No one wants to go to a doctor who flunked test after test. Besides, it'd be nice to have a night off from hitting the books."

"So... why the GOAT grading guide, then?"

"I need to make sure I get the doctor career assignment," she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "If I don't, my dad will kill me thrice fold."

Butch pushed himself off the wall and went behind the desk, "I'll cut ya a deal."

"You don't have anything I want," she snorted and began to work on the lock again.

"For one second will ya listen to me? Fuckin' hell, Doll face, you need a little faith."

He realized his mistake as soon as the nickname left his mouth.

Dolly paused her ministrations for a fraction before continuing, not looking up. "Why did you call me that?"

Butch felt defensive. He didn't know how to answer her and in situations like this, he usually punched or cursed his way out of it. "I dunno, it just... seemed, uh, right I guess?"

"It's better than Nosebleed," she giggled, prying the lock open with a small congratulatory gasp.

"Hey, ya got it open!" Butch knelt down beside her to peer into the drawer.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye. Her plump lips grew into a smile and she looked back at him with sheer elation. Her jade irises twinkled in delight and she began to shuffle through the drawer. To Butch's complete horror, he began to feel nervous. His stomach twisted and did a flip and he swallowed the lump of anxiety currently lodged in his esophagus. Dolly said something, but he couldn't hear her over the clamorous thumping of his heart against his sternum. Oh, this was bad. What was wrong with him? Was he sick? All he could think about was how delicious the skin of her neck looked and how he wanted to just push her up against the wall and... nope. That was not a place for his mind to go at the moment.

"Butch, hello?" Dolly was waving papers in his face. "Earth to Butch, do you read me?"

He swatted the papers away with a growl, "Quit it. What did ya find?"

She smiled with feigned meekness and held the papers out of reach, "And why should I tell you?"

"Because if not," he moved forward to grab the papers from her fist, "I'll beat ya up."

"How about..." she said slowly, keeping the papers away from him, "I'll agree to give you the answers for every single test for the rest of the year, but-"

"Aw, c'mon," he groaned.

"- but! You have to stop bullying me."

"No deal," he said quickly.

"That is a stupid decision on your part," she said matter-of-factly. "I'll give you one more chance to decide."

Butch felt so insulted. Like he'd give up bullying her just like that. But then again... he would get good grades on all of his tests. Damn, his ma would be so proud of him. Maybe she'd stop drinking if she had someone to be proud of.

Butch dropped his head in defeat, "Fine."

"Fine, what?"

"Fine I'll..." he looked up at her and glared, "I'll stop bullying ya."

She stuck her hand out and they shook on it. "There, was that so hard?"

"Yes, it was. Thanks," he said sardonically and reached to snatched the papers away from her.

Their hands touched for a moment as he took the papers from her hands and he felt something spark between them. His cerulean eyes met Dolly's dazzling jade and for a moment he couldn't breathe. This was fucking stupid. It was just Dolly, the loser of Vault 101. She should not be making him feel like this. And yet... there he was, struggling for air as her dazzling viridian eyes bore into his soul. He bit onto his bottom lip as his eyes wandered to her mouth. The urge to kiss her was astounding. Okay, he must be getting sick because that was not an okay thought to have. But he noticed that Dolly's eyes weren't on his anymore. She was staring at his mouth as well. Did she feel that same urge? Butch swallowed hard and began to lean in apprehensively. Dolly didn't move for a moment after he leaned in, but after a few seconds he found that she was beginning to close the gap between them. Their faces were so close he could feel her breath fanning his face. Her lips parted and his eyes slid closed.

A shout echoed from the hall and they stopped, their eyes shooting open. Dolly gawked at Butch and bolted upright, folding the tests and shoving them into her bra. Butch caught on and tucked the others into his coat. She slid the drawer closed as quietly as she could and they crept towards the door. Another shout. Dolly flinched and glanced at Butch as people began to yell.

"That's the Overseer," she whispered. "He's yelling at someone."

Butch's mouth dropped open and he stifled a laugh, pressing his hand to his mouth. "Oh! Oh! This is fuckin' great!"

She looked horrified, "Why? Have you lost it?"

He pulled Dolly into the hallway, "Earlier, I saw Amata and Freddie getting pretty friendly," he wiggled his eyebrow suggestively, "If ya know what I mean."

At this, Dolly smiled daftly and giggled, "I bet the Overseer caught them!"

"I sent them to the cafeteria," he shrugged, "the supply closet has ample space and privacy for activities."

"I don't want to know how you know that," her laughter ceased and she furrowed her eyebrows. "But we should get out of here. It'll look... suspicious."

"Suspicious that we're in the same room and I'm not wailing on ya?"

Again she smiled, and he found himself breathless. "Something like that."

They stood there for a moment just smiling at each other stupidly. A million thoughts buzzed around his brain and he wanted to ask her what had just happened. Did she even want to kiss him? If they hadn't been interrupted by the yelling, would've they have gone through with it? How did she feel about him? He licked his lips and his eyes wandered to her mouth again. A part of him was yelling to just kiss her and get it out of his system, but the other half of him feared being kicked in the balls. His body went rigid as Dolly hoisted herself up on her tiptoes. His heart screamed wildly in his ears and his skin suddenly became very hot and tingly. Without hesitation, Dolly chastely kissed Butch's cheek. The spot where her skin touched his burned and ached and he fought the desire to pull her into him. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to bury his face in that beautiful red hair. He wanted to... he wanted to...

A deep, stern voice broke the silence. Dolly's pipboy lit up as someone sent her a video message, "Dolly Marie Murdoch, it is way past curfew. Time to come home."

"I'm sorry daddy," she muttered with a smile and hit send, looking back up to Butch. "That's my cue."

"Don't tell anyone I was nice to ya," he muttered as he tapped her forehead with his finger. "I have a reputation, ya know."

"I won't tell a soul," she pretended to zip up her lips and lock them, then throw away the key. She was so goddamn awkward, but he was beginning to like it. "As long as you keep to your promise, that is."

"Everyone is gonna wonder why I don't pick on you anymore," he smoothed back a lock of his hair nonchalantly.

"Let them talk," she shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

With a small flip of her hair she spun on her heels and clicked her way down the hall. He watched as her silhouette faded into nothing. The lighting began to darken to a deep red and then flicker in warning. A loud horn began to blare over the intercom and Butch suddenly found himself back in his mother's room. Dead radroaches laid scattered about the floor surrounded in dried blood. His mother was knocking back a bottle of vodka and fell backwards onto the bed. He let out a sigh and shook his head, wondering if maybe he had accidentally ingested something and had just had a very intense trip. He looked up through the window his mother's room. The staircase that Dolly had escaped from was in view, and he silently hoped to see her small red head poking out from behind the wall and yell "just kidding!"

But it never happened.


Butch let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and closed his eyes tightly, rubbing them with balled up fists. To his confusion, the alarms stopped blaring. A soft ringing echoed in his ears and he opened his eyes, glaring through the static that came with vigorous rubbing. He was in the hallway outside the Barber Shop. His icy blue eyes darted to the darkened room, its windows cracked and shattered, with various hair equipment scattered across the floors. Every now and then he'd dart in and grab some pomade for his hair, but since that night everything went to hell, he tried to stay away from this side of the vault. His eyes wandered to his pipboy. The date flashed in the right hand corner. It read "March 23rd, 2278." That didn't seem right. His eyebrows furrowed. Why didn't that seem right? He shook his head and looked up, the urge to move forward pushing him to continue.

Butch kicked his feet in frustration as he wandered down the hall and away from the broken down barber shop. The fighting had died down and he spent a majority of his time guarding the entrance to the sanctuary they were holed up in. It was hard trying to sleep there at first, since he was so used to his comfortable mattress and fluffy pillows. During his down time, when sleep refused to find him, he'd aimlessly wander the vault. Sometimes he'd run into security and they'd chase him back to the clinic, other times he'd go hours before encountering anyone. They had lost a lot of people since the night Dolly left. If they thought their numbers were small before, they obviously didn't realize it could get much worse. The time on his pipboy read that it was six in the morning.

He ran his hand over his tired face and grumbled. His mom was probably wondering how he was. It had been hard to see her since his living quarters were so close to security and that damn Overseer. Maybe if he made his way there now, he could sneak in before anyone was up to scare him off. The lights of the hallways flickered as he walked beneath them, items tipped over and random items dumped all over the floor. He stepped over the remnants of a radroach and turned the corner to his mom's living quarters. Instantly something felt off. He never believed in superstition or anything remotely close to that, but for some reason he felt his stomach drop into his knees and he just knew something wasn't right.

The air was awfully still and had a chill to it and it nipped at his senses as he pushed his feet forward. Delicate hairs on the back of his neck rose as he approached the door to his old home. The light above the door was off and he took it as another bad omen. He stepped beneath it, silently crushing the immature sense of dread that had its cold fingers wrapped around his throat. He pressed the button to the door and it slid open with a "swoosh." A smell hit his nostrils and he took a step backwards. He coughed and covered his mouth with his sleeve before entering. The lights in the house were all on, the radio sitting idly upon the kitchen table hissing as static filled the room. A cooking pot was perched upon the stove, a wooden spoon still precariously balanced on the handle.

"Hey Ma?" He called out, "Ma, you home?"

No response. He rounded the hallway and headed towards her bedroom, a sudden urgency shocking him to life. The door to her room was open ajar, the darkness behind it beckoning him. The smell from earlier became stronger and he tried not to gag. It was a stale smell, rancid even. He pushed the door open apprehensively and flipped the light switch on. What he saw before him made him freeze. His mother was draped awkwardly across the bed. Her nightgown was tinged yellow and her hair fanned around her face like a halo. Her once dazzling eyes were now dull, half-lidded and glazed over. Her mouth was open slightly and dried, frothy vomit clung to her chin. What disturbed him the most wasn't his mother's barren, empty stare, but the pallor to her skin. It was ashen and gray. The area where her body met the bed was lined with deep black bruises.

He swallowed. No, this wasn't real. This didn't happen. He inched towards her bed. A bottle of vodka was a few inches away from her hand, and he noticed a little orange bottle was gripped loosely in her elegant fingers. He wanted to scream. He wanted to throw a tantrum and shake her until she came back to life. He wanted to yell at her that this wasn't fair, she had no right to leave him like this. He fell backwards, his back meeting the wall. With one weak drop, he slid to the floor, his eyes never leaving his mother's lifeless form on the bed. She left him just like that.

Briefly, he wondered what she was going through that was so horrible, that the only way out was to swallow an entire bottle of medication and chug alcohol. Why didn't she talk to him? They never were awfully close but the loved each other. She did the best she could. It was odd to see her lying there and come to terms that, that wasn't his mother anymore. It looked like her, but she wasn't in there. She was gone.

Something clenched in his chest and he felt a lump rise in his throat. His eyes stung and his hands began to tremble. His chest rumbled and a strangled cry escaped his throat. Quickly, he slapped a hand over his mouth and clenched his eyes shut. He couldn't stop it anymore, he lost control. Sobs shook his lean frame and he tried to blink away the tears. Although his hand was covering his mouth, the pitiful hum of his pain echoed through the room. It was eerily still. God, he felt so alone. He always felt alone but now he realized that he actually was alone. The only person in his life who remotely gave a damn was gone. He felt so weak crying into the stillness of the room. He hadn't felt such hopelessness since he was a small child. The overwhelming sense of loss struck him and he tilted his head backwards, banging his head against the wall.

"Oh, god damn it," he choked out, his eyes boring holes into the ceiling.

His mother wasn't a saint. She was more in tune with her alcohol than she was with parenting, but she was his flesh and blood. If she didn't care about him, she wouldn't have pushed him to be a good man. To be a better man than his father was. She always saw the potential in him and wanted him to strive to be the best he could be... he was sad that he couldn't have been a better son. It was always one disappointment after another. As soon as he hit puberty he couldn't control the rage. He couldn't care less about grades, he just wanted to do as he pleased. The look on his mother's face the day he came home after he failed his umpteenth test in a row was one of shame and defeat. She had given up. If only she knew how much he appreciated what she did for him. The way she'd call him "Butchie" and pull on his ear when he was bad, or the way she'd smack the back of his head when he got too mouthy. She always tried to instill good manners into him and they stuck somewhat. She tried her best.

And now here he was, sitting on the floor of her bedroom sniffling and crying like a pussy. Why didn't he come to see her more often? Why didn't he show her his appreciation? Pain throbbed in his chest and he choked out another sob. Oh, god, he never told her he loved her- and he did! He loved her like no one else, she was his Ma for Christ's sake! She was the light of his life, even if she was drunk off her ass most days. What if he had been nicer to her? What if he had tried hard to be a good kid? What if he had just visited her more often instead of getting swept up in the rebels and plotting to abandon her? This was his fault. If he had been more attentive...

Another sob threatened to break through but he pushed it away, instead he let out an angry scream and banged his head against the wall one more time. No one could know she died like this. With no doctor to examine her, he knew that if he could just hide that pill bottle no one would know she did this intentionally. Everyone knew her fondness for alcohol and it seemed much more likely that she would die in her sleep from alcohol poisoning. Not suicide. That word seemed so foreign to him. He stood up shakily and moved to the bed. His hand found the pill bottle and he took it from her, pocketing it to dispose of later. He looked into her eyes. What was she thinking in those final moments? Did she regret it? Was she thinking of the son she was leaving behind? Did she believe he wouldn't care? Nausea wracked his body and he doubled over, crumbling to his knees and vomited into the tacky shag carpet.

Butch wiped his mouth and shakily climbed to his feet. He had to get out of here. He idly patted his pocket where the pills were and shuffled towards the living room. It didn't take long to get out of the apartment and he felt like he could finally breathe. He inhaled deeply and trembled. His mind was in a haze and his legs felt heavy, like he was walking through water. Breathing began to grow harder and his chest ached. A hand wandered to his heart and he gripped the fabric of his vault jumpsuit in vain. It felt like he was having a heart attack. As his body slowly lost oxygen he found his vision growing fuzzy. The last thing he remembered was someone calling his name as his body hit the ground.


Anxiety rose in Butch's throat and he paced in circles. Music lofted lazily across the air, filling the room with the distant, hollow sound of Billie Holiday and her bluesy voice. The music was making him even more nervous and he angrily unplugged it from the wall, tossing the small stereo onto his bed. The clothes next the stereo stirred languidly and he glanced at the outfit with distaste. This was a bad idea, this was not going to work. Out of all the lousy ideas his dumb brain had come up with, this was most certainly the worst one. It was not going to work. He rubbed his hands together nervously and moved to his dresser, rifling through his multitude of vault suits and various other shirts.

He wasn't sure what it was like out there- outside the vault. All his life he heard from the Overseer that it was a barren wasteland filled with mutated monsters straight out of some Twilight Zone episode. But that was long ago when the Overseer was trying to keep them isolated. His lies hadn't worked. Allen Mack's lies hadn't worked. Dolly came back and she was living breathing proof that there's more out there than anyone down here knew about. The first night back, Dolly and him spent the majority of their time talking. He had intended into buttering her up so that she'd be more inclined to help him, but failed miserably. Instead, he ended up actually enjoying their night catching up. She was still that dorky redhead from their teenage days, but she had changed.

Butch didn't like to admit it, but... he was kind of scared. All he wanted since that fateful night all those years ago was to leave the vault. He knew it was possible and he was itching to experience the wasteland. Now as he sat here pacing the room, trying to find an outfit befitting for a first day in the real world. No more synthetic sunlight, no more Overseer, no more being a dumb barber. He was his own man. He puffed his chest out at the thought.

Amata was having a meeting about opening the vault and he was intent on attending. This was the first time he gave a rat's ass about anything happening within the vault community, and this only mattered because it effected him directly. He paced the room gathering a few more things. All he had was a small duffel bag and was trying to cram as much in there as possible. He tossed in a few combs, some tubs of pomade, and a bunch of white shirts and pants. After this, he wasn't quite sure if he was going to need his vault uniform anymore. Something caught the corner of his eye. He turned to his dresser and saw a small necklace glistening in the fluorescent lighting. He eyed the small jewel wearily.

It had been a while since his mom died. The room where she was found had been sealed due to contamination worries, at least until they could get a team in there to disinfect and clean. Before they closed it off, though, he had managed to lift a few of her belongings. The most important one was the small scarlet pendant she wore around her neck. Mom always said that she got it from his dad, whoever that was. It was so important to her that he rarely saw her without it. It was a gem passed down from their descendants hundreds of years ago, and the necklace still shone like it was new- aside from a few rust stains along the tiny chain links and some scuffing on the gem.

He ran his thumb over it and let out a breath, pocketing the necklace. Maybe someday he'd find a dame worthy enough of his mom's necklace. An image of a certain redheaded poindexter flashed across his mind and he frowned. That was weird. Since when did he see her as anything other than, well, her? He shook his head and forced an image of some busty blonde wearing nothing but his Tunnel Snakes jacket and the necklace and smirked. Yeah, that seemed more fitting. With one final look at his room, his home for the past twenty-two years, he turned off the lights and went to join the rest of the vault for the meeting.

The room was sparse and empty and it took him a moment to realize that no one was missing. Their numbers had dwindled so horrendously, all that was left was a handful. It was a good thing they were going to introduce more people. Butch tossed his duffel bag to the floor and took a seat at his old desk. It was odd that Amata chose the classroom. He looked to the door and saw Freddie enter. As soon as he noticed Butch was there, Freddie gave a small smile and a wave and took the seat in front of him. That's where Dolly used to sit. He had a vague memory of kicking her and flicking the back of her head. Nostalgia crept over him and he shifted uncomfortably. Finally, after the rest of the surviving vault dwellers found a seat, Amata went to the front of the room. She had re-situated Mr. Brotch's desk so that it was more centered.

Her face was grave, her lips pursed into a thin line. "I'm sure you all know why I called you here."

There was a murmur amongst the group and he heard Christine speak up, "Are we here to talk about you-know-who killing another Overseer? I feel like that warrants some discussion."

Amata bowed her head and grimaced, "No, Dolly did us a service. She didn't have to answer my emergency transmission, but she ran to our aid without a second thought. She did her best. "

"That dumb bitch took the easy way out," Wally piped up from the back of the room, "she didn't have to kill my dad but she did, so let's stop treating her like some goddamn hero already, okay? She's a fucking cunt."

"Hey, watch your mouth," Butch snapped, turning to address the angry Mack boy. "Your dad was fuckin' crazy, man. She tried to talk to him and he drew a gun on her, does that sound like a rational person to you?"

"Oh, since when did you start sticking up for that bitch?" Wally snorted, "She comes back one night and somehow convinces you with her big green doe eyes that she's innocent and you trip all over yourself like some fink."

Butch rose to his feet, his fists balled and poised at the ready, "What did you say to me, you fuckin' asshole? Come here, say that to my face!"

"Butch, calm down," Suzy whispered, giving him a stern look.

"I AM calm!" he shouted at Suzy and she flinched. "It's your inbred brother who ain't calm!"

"The fuck did you say?" Wally pushed himself off the wall and started to walk over. "Don't get all pissy with me because your girlfriend doesn't know how to control herself. If it wasn't for her, Amata and I would still have parents, you fucking prick."

Butch glowered at the usage of "girlfriend" to describe Dolly. He felt rage begin to boil in his stomach and stepped out into the aisle, preparing himself for a scuffle. Things had been rough between them since Allen Mack took the position of Overseer. Wally took his place next to his dad and joined security, smiting down anyone who didn't agree with his old man's crackpot theories.

Officer Gomez grabbed Wally by the collar and yanked him back, "Now is not the time for this. Maybe you two should sit down and shut your mouths so Amata can talk."

Butch planted himself in his seat with a huff, his hands still clenched into fists. Where did Wally get off talking like that? He felt a twinge of defensiveness run through him and it was confusing. He didn't know why Wally saying that shit bothered him so much but it did. Maybe back when they were younger he would be fine with that but now... things were different. Dolly saved them and all Amata and everyone else did was give her a kick to the ass and showed her the door. It wasn't right. If he had been in Dolly's position, he would've done the same thing. He knew everyone else felt the same way, well maybe not Wally. Regardless, Dolly deserved some damn respect and he was ticked off that no one was willing to openly side with her.

"Thank you, Officer Gomez," Amata nodded to the man and crossed her arms. "We are missing a few people tonight," her eyes wandered to Paul's empty chair, "people who died senselessly amidst the chaos. But I know a lot of you agree with me. You stood by me for almost two years and defended our right to leave the vault. I implore you to think carefully about this. We open the vault and we're opening ourselves up to risks. This won't be easy, but it will be worth it. I need to preface this by saying that our success in this endeavor lies solely on the shoulders of those wiling to cooperate."

She swallowed hard, her honey brown eyes wide and shiny from unshed tears.

"I wish that things would've been different and that this opportunity would've arisen with the entire vault in agreeance. Yet, here we are," she gestured to the room with open arms, "we've made it through all of the bloodshed- through all of our losses and struggles. We've survived. Let's ensure that our fellow vault residents didn't die in vain."

She licked her lips and opened her mouth as if to continue, but she didn't. The room was silent with only the sound of a few emotional sniffles here and there. Butch stared down at the speckled classroom desk with furrowed brows. She didn't have to say it, but the way her eyes wandered to Paul's old desk spoke volumes. It wasn't just random people who had been taken from them, it was their friends. Their family. His mother came to mind and he wilted, leaning back in the chair with a sigh.

"So... what do we do now?" Freddie whispered gently to no one in particular.

"I need a scouting party," Amata's eyes instantly went to the group of security officers. "I need people who can take of themselves and know how to hold a gun."

Butch's face lit up. His heart began to thump wildly in excitement, "I volunteer!"

Someone snorted behind him. It was Wally again. "What makes you think you can survive out there? You couldn't even save your own mom from a couple of bugs."

Butch was seething at the apparent slight. Everyone knew about that after his mom stumbled to the clinic looking for some pain medication for her radroach bites. She babbled on about the "cute redhead" who came in and saved her! Of course she didn't leave out how Butch was too afraid of the radroaches to do anything about it. He grit his teeth together stared straight ahead.

No one said anything for a while until Amata spoke up again. "Gomez, Hannon, and Richards. I need you three to get some supplies and travel to the nearest town."

Butch craned his neck to check out the three security guards mentioned. He liked Gomez, he was the one who helped Dolly get to the clinic without being harmed. Hannon was a piece of shit. He never liked Paul's dad. Hannon tried too hard to be by-the-book and more often than not caused more damage to the vault security team than anything. The man always liked to act smarter than he was. Richards was a decent guy, soft spoken and never really pushed any of the kids around.

"I must decline, Amata," Hannon said sternly, crossing his arms.

"Look, Mr. Hannon, I know we don't meet eye to eye on many things but you're the security chief. It'd seem wrong to not have you in the scouting party," Amata brushed a strand of chocolate colored hair from her face.

"Look, girly, I only take orders from the Overseer," his voice was harsh and cold.

"Well, the last time I checked the Overseer was dead. Everyone agreed I'd be the one to step up and take his place, like I should have when my father died."

"You mean when he was killed," Hannon corrected. "I don't know if I want you to be Overseer, seeing as your judgment is pretty poor. Anyone willing to let that psycho Dolly back into the vault to slaughter yet another Overseer has to be lacking in common sense."

"I wasn't given very many options, seeing as the security team became our enemy the day Dolly left," Amata shrugged. "I told her to talk him down from his pedestal but he wouldn't listen."

"He was just another senseless murder," Hannon barked, his face growing red. "The day she left, we lost so many people- including my son and my wife! Wally over here lost his brother and his dad by that girl's hands. You lost your dad because of her. You're off your rocker, and I swear if I ever see that girl again I'm going to put her on a pike!"

"Enough," Amata commanded, pushing herself from the wall. She was a small woman but she could be intimidating when she wanted to be. "I understand your pain. I was mad at her for a long time but I know what my father did wasn't right either. If he hadn't sent his goons after her with orders to kill on sight, maybe she wouldn't have felt the need to do what she did."

"And what of my brother, huh?" Wally seethed, joining in. "All he wanted was to serve his vault and his Overseer and he got two to the face."

"Everyone knows your brother was just as crazy as your old man," this time Butch chimed in, raising himself to sit on the desk with his boots on the chair. "Must be all that inbreeding makin' you all crazy, huh?"

Wally didn't hesitate this time. He lunged from across the room and grabbed Butch by the collar, lifting him so that their faces were only inches apart. Butch felt fear paralyze his limbs for a moment as the shit eating grin faded from his face. A part of him was sad to see this is where their relationship had gone. He had already lost Paul and he lost Wally the day his brother died. Wally stared back into Butch's face with intense fury, his eyes burning holes into Butch's olive skin. Butch tried to pull away but found that the grip his childhood friend had on his collar was vice.

As he raised his boot to kick Wally's knee, Wally brought down a fist square into Butch's jaw. Instantly, he saw stars. An explosion of pain shot up through his chin and he let out a angry moan, ignoring the blood that dribbled from his split lip. Butch fumbled around his jacket pocket and withdrew his pocket knife and took a slice at Wally's face. The man let go, shocked, and tripped backwards. Butch had gotten him right below the eye. He would prove to all these assholes that the Butch-man ain't a coward.

Wally touched the gash on his cheek and pulled away, staring at the blood with bemusement. His eyes snapped back to Butch's face and he took a step forward, ready to lunge again. In a heartbeat, Officer O'Brian was holding one arm and Officer Gomez grabbed the other, pulling Wally to the opposite side of the room. Amidst the scuffle, Amata had closed the gap between her and Butch and was currently standing in front of him, defensively blocking him from Wally's view. Freddie had also joined the fight, standing next to Butch at the ready with one hand holding Butch in place.

"Do you see how you two are acting?" Amata shrieked, looking between the two men. "We are supposed to be together on this and you two are tearing each other apart. It's juvenile!"

Butch's lip was swollen and he couldn't shake the feeling that this had happened to him before. His brain itched at the memory and an overwhelming sense of deja vu came over him. Had he been in a fight recently? No, that wasn't it. He hadn't fought anyone down here since before Dolly left. A brief memory of a small cell and darkness flew across his vision and he gawked. That was odd. Maybe he was remembering a movie he had seen. Amata turned to Butch with a scowl scarier than any he had ever seen before. She could out-scowl his mother.

"Butch, I need you to keep yourself in check," she whispered, the scowl never leaving her face. "I know how intolerable those men can be, but can you really blame them for their anger?"

"Wally's just a bitch," he said with a slight lisp, patting his split lip in afterthought.

"Butch," Freddie said softly at his side, "stop."

"I know you two had resolved your issues before Dolly left and you see her like a friend, so I understand why you're so ticked off and defensive about this. I know Dolly helped you save your mom and she's done right by you," she exhaled a shaky breath, "but please for all that is good and decent in this world, can you please just cool it?"

"Why aren't you over there yellin' at that fuck face?" Butch kept his voice down but didn't attempt to hide his frustration. "He's the one who attacked me!"

"But you antagonized him," she said smoothly. "Trust me, I'm going to go over there and give that boy a piece of my mind too. But be the bigger person for once, Butch. We're not children anymore. Stop acting like one."

Amata turned on her heel and marched over to Wally, who was still being coaxed out of his rage by the two security officers. With one fell swoop she brought her hand down and slapped it across Wally's face. Wally went still and stared at the small woman through wide blue eyes and nodded along at what she was saying. Butch couldn't discern her words but he knew she was telling him off ten times worse than she had done to Butch. Freddie shifted uncomfortably next to him and Butch turned to address his friend.

"Are you leaving?" Freddie's voice was small and filled with concern. The kid was nice, way too nice to have ever joined the Tunnel Snakes. Try as he might to be a hard ass, he just didn't have it in him.

Butch wiped away at the blood on his chin and pointed to his duffel bag. "I've been planning to leave for years now."

"Where will you go?" Freddie's tan face was twisted in unease. "What will you do?"

"I dunno," Butch shrugged. "I haven't really planned that far ahead."

Freddie's eyes fell to floor as he seemed to deliberate over something for a few seconds. When he looked back up his mouth was drawn into a straight line, "I guess this means the Tunnel Snakes are through, huh?"

At this, Butch guffawed and slapped the younger man on the shoulders, "Freddie, the Tunnel Snakes rule! We don't quit. We're gonna take over the wastes, ya hear?"

His friend smiled daftly, "Promise?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die," he crossed his chest like they used to do when they were kids, "stick a stimpak in my eye."

He went to turn and join Amata but paused a fraction, turning to regard Butch once more. "When you see Dolly... tell her thanks, okay? For me."

"Why?" The word slipped out a bit more protective than he intended.

"She was always good to me," he smiled sadly. "The night she left, she stopped by to tell me to stay put so I could be safe, that my dad was helping her and I had nothing to worry about..." he trailed off.

If Butch didn't already know that Freddie was smitten with Amata, he'd have an inkling suspicion that Freddie was sweet on Dolly. The greaser gave Freddie a light slap on the back and a happy nod before the young man turned to join Amata across the room. The classroom was alight with babbling and arguing, it was the most lively he had seen this bunch in years. His offender was currently being hauled off by security. With a deep breath he contemplated just grabbing his bag and running out of there, but for some reason he knew he owed the lot of them a goodbye. Not that they'd miss him, but it was polite. His mom always tried to get him to be polite and considerate. Maybe it was time to turn over a new leaf.

Butch cleared his throat, "Alright everyone, shut your mouths. I got somethin' to say."

A sea of curious faces turned and stared at him. Butch brushed away the growing nervousness that crept up his spine. "I'm leavin'."

A quiet murmur spread across the group and Christine crossed her arms with a huff, "Butch, we all knew you'd try to break out of here the first chance you got."

"Get the fuck out of here," Amata began to laugh. "I didn't actually think you'd work up the courage to do it!"

Butch felt his face grow hot. Damn, was it so hard to get some faith around here? He shifted his pack uncomfortably, readjusting, and stared at the ground. He heard them grow quiet and Amata walked over. Her feet slid across the metal floor and came into Butch's line of sight, but he didn't want to look up. He didn't want everyone to see how red his face was. With a gentle, almost nurturing touch, Amata placed both hands on Butch's shoulders. Reluctantly, he tilted his head to meet her gaze. Her honey brown eyes were sad and her mouth was twisted into forlorn expression. Was she sad that he was leaving?

When she spoke her voice was soft and he knew what she was about to say was only for his ears, "Butch, when you get out there, just guard your ass, okay? I know we haven't always been close but... I know you're a good guy. Try to not let the wastes suck you in."

Butch couldn't fight the gentle grin that spread across his face, "Thanks, toots. It's been great."

"Oh, and, one more thing..." she leaned in close, "take care of Dolly when you find her. She's been through a lot and I know she'd love to have you with her, even if she won't admit it."

"I don't know what you're tryin' to say," he sniffed. "What makes you think I'm gonna stick with her?"

"Just a hunch," she laughed. "Help yourself to supplies. Make sure to stock up on stimpaks and a lot of clean water."

Frankly, he was touched. He didn't know Amata actually cared about him at all. He always said the good thing about her was that she was always willing to give people second chances. Those kind of situations either go one way or the other, but Amata always tried to be understanding. Maybe that's why she was being so nice to him. This may be the last time he ever sees these people. With a final look he glanced around the room, saying his goodbyes. After a few minutes of awkward side hugs and halfhearted farewells, he found his way to the clinic to stock up. It was weird seeing the place empty, as this had been his home for almost two years while they struggled. It seemed like just yesterday that he was walking home from lunch with Paul and the alarms sounded.

As he reached the front of the vault he felt his nerves begin to worsen. He could always come back, but they would never stop giving him shit for it. He wiped his sweaty palm against the cotton fabric of his vault suit and swallowed hard. The small control panel near the opening flashed and beeped, welcoming him. He typed in the new password, his finger hovering over the enter button for a fraction of a minute. After some mental deliberation and a desperately needed pep talk, he pressed it.

The hatch creaked and groaned as it disengaged and retracted. One foot went forward, and then another. The next thing he knew he was jogging towards the rickety wooden door at the end of the tunnel. His breath was coming in short bursts and he let out a joyous yelp as he finally reached it. The tunnel was cool and smelled of earth and musk, something he was not used to. The hatch closed behind him in one final groan and locked, sealing his fate. This was it, this was his moment.

With a shaky hand he pressed onto the door and watched as it popped open. The light was blinding and he covered his eyes with his hand. Shit, that burned. After a few moments of blinking away the tears and rubbing at his eyes he tried looking once again. He must have trouble adjusting or something because all he saw was a white void. Trepidation kept him from running full force into the wastes and instead he settled on putting his hand out into the light. It was warm and tickled his olive skin, something the fluorescent lighting in the vault did not. He exhaled a trembling breath and stepped into the light. He lost all sense of direction and rubbed his eyes furiously, still having trouble focusing on anything within close proximity.

Once he was done rubbing his eyes for the second time he opened them, only to see darkness. Oh god no, the sun fried his eyes! He was blind! Why didn't he just listen to that educational video about wearing goggles when they first leave? He let out a frightened yelp and stumbled forward. Finally, something began to appear as the tunnel of darkness began to ebb away. It was a room. It was small and poorly constructed, with awkward tin roofing and horrible flooring. In the corner he saw a bed. There was someone tucked beneath a mound of blankets and a person at their side. What the hell? He looked around to try and discern where he was or what was going on, only to hear someone whispering his name.

Slowly his gaze wandered back to the bed and he moved closer to it. What he saw baffled his mind and he had to fight the urge to scream and run away. In the bed was himself, a giant plastic tube shoved down his throat and a small monitor poised above the bed. Was that all just a dream? Was he dying? The person sitting next to the bed lifted their head. It was Dolly. Her face was reddened from tears and she dabbed at her face futilely. Her russet hair was tucked into a messy bun and her makeup was slightly smeared across her cheeks. She looked different, older- more dignified. Even with grime and smeared makeup he found her breathtaking. A sparkle near her collarbone drew his gaze and his jaw went slack for a moment. There, around her slim ivory neck, was his mother's necklace. He patted his pocket and found it was still there.

His head began to throb and he dropped his bag, gripping at either side of his face. Memories and images began to flash and invade his mind. His first night out of the vault when he stayed in Megaton and talked to that Irish bastard. The day he was close to Rivet City but was ambushed by raiders and tortured for twelve hours. The elation in his chest the moment he realized Dolly was the one who saved him. The night they fell asleep in each others arms in post coital bliss. The way he stole her caps under the premise of gambling, but he had actually sneaked away to the raider's compound to get his ma's necklace back.

It all offended his senses at once and his knees buckled. He crumbled to the ground, mumbling to himself and gritting his teeth as shocks of pain rocked his body. This was his life. The vault he had just emerged from was just a conglomerate of his past experiences. The man lying in that bed was him and he couldn't help but feel that this was it. He groaned as the pain faded and he laid on the floor in exhaustion.

Darkness encircled him once more and this time he embraced it with open arms, ready for whatever awaited him.


A/N: If you guys liked this well enough, I may consider doing a prequel story about Dolly and Butch in the vault :) I rather like their awkward teenager-ness. Sorry for the sad scene where Butch found his mom. I think that she'd realize the hopelessness of her situation and take her own way out, leaving Butch behind because she thought he was capable of moving on. But I also have this idea that Butch is a mama's boy deep down, even if he didn't want to show her.

Thanks for reading!