Chapter 12: Taking a Breather
Tyler eases himself down into the armchair that has sort of become his and sighs in content. It has been nearly a month since their happy little band got back together and things have been nonstop ever since.
First there were the issues with Nick and Jane. The two of them seem to have completely different takes on their reunion. Nick could only stare at her and answer in question with a slightly hurt look on his face. Jane only seemed interested in finding out more about herself. It is understandable, Tyler supposes, for one who has been dealing with amnesia, but you could at least pretend to be grateful towards the one who spent three years of their life searching for you.
Perhaps that is part of the problem. While Nick can tell her all about the time they spent together, he has no idea what happened to her in the two years she was absent from him before becoming the infamous Courier Six, saint and devil of New Vegas.
With tensions high between the two people who are, admittedly, the leaders of the two groups that are now attempting to work together, things haven't been easy.
Tyler never saw himself as the type to just follow orders, but since hooking back up with Nick he has found that he mostly just stick by what he suggests. A lot has changed over the years, and Tyler is more than confident that Nick could get them out of anything. He isn't all that sure about Jane though.
Sure, the woman has done well for herself. She has ensured that House keeps her around by making herself invaluable to Vegas, and she has the loyalty of the people she works with, but she just seems too self centered to actually lead all that well. Sure she can fight and kill just as well as the rest of them, and she has a way of getting under your skin and exposing all your dark secrets, but she just isn't the type of person Tyler can see himself following into a fight.
So with that happy little detail, things could have been going worse. After the encounter at McCarran, Jane took them all back to the Lucky 38 and introduced them to Mr. House himself, sort of. Since coming to Vegas, Tyler has heard all sorts of stories about how House has been alive since before the war and has been running Vegas ever since. He expected to meet a ghoul like him. Instead all they see is a bunch of large computer screens and a condescending face. Just a little disappointing.
House didn't seem very interested in them. He gave off the feeling that he only cares about results, not the means to achieve those results. Considering the way Jane acts, that makes a lot of since to Tyler.
In they end Luther and Nick had a long argument over the proposition House put to them. House offered them the shelter of his casino in exchange for their loyalty and service. That and a lot of caps weekly. Nick liked the offer, though Tyler can't shake the thought that it is only because it allows him to be closer to Jane. Luther on the other hand wanted to get out of town as quickly as possible.
Nick eventually won out and they stuck around. They have been getting all sorts of jobs from House. Jane says this level of activity is not normal for him. She feels like something is going to happen soon. Tyler cares about as much as a deathclaw cares when you hit it with a stick, which is to say not at all. The only thing he cares about right now is how badly his knees are hurting after all the extra walking he has had to do with House as his employer. For example, he just got back from delivering a message to some people in a town called Novac. Seriously, that is all, a fucking delivery job. He is starting to agree with Luther on packing up and leaving. Then again...
Tyler has traveled with Luther for a long time. Hell, the met because Tyler saved Luther's ass, but the way he has been recently has got him worried. Luther tries to hid it, but everyone can see the way he zones out. The way he tilts his head as if there is someone speaking whom only he can hear. They way he gets into moods and cuts himself off. Jane told him about the seizure. Tyler wouldn't really call Luther his friend, but that doesn't mean he isn't concerned.
Preoccupied with these thoughts Tyler doesn't notice when Kc enters the room. The junkie girl sits down opposite him and hold her chin in her hand. Realizing that Tyler isn't aware of her presence she snaps her fingers.
Tyler jerks his head towards her and scowls. "What? You need something girl?"
Kc rolls her eyes. "You were out of it. What, you hit the jet already?"
"Jet gets you hyper idiot!" Tyler stands and walks over to a liquor cabinet. "If you want to zone out you used med-x." He takes down a bottle of something and a glass. As he pours his drink Kc stand stands and joins him.
"Make me one too?"
It is a question. He considers being an asshole and saying no, but decides he is too tired for it. He takes down a second glass and fills it. He lifts his and they clink their drinks together. Tyler throws his back easily, but Kc gags and nearly spits her out with a sound of disgust. "What is this some sort of poison? it is disgusting!"
Tyler shrugs his shoulders and looks for a label on the bottle, but isn't one. "I don't know, tastes like the stuff I once had back east in an area known as Point Lookout. Folks there made their own drink. Maybe this is something similar." Kc puts her glass down and glares at it distastefully. "If you don't like it then just don't drink it for fucks sake. Spoiled little princess."
"You don't know anything about me!" That came out of no where. "I am not a fucking princess! I am not fucking spoiled!"
Tyler shrugs. "How the hell am I supposed to know anything about you? You never told us where you are from, who you are, or even what had happened to you when we found you? Not my fault if I make assumptions based solely on your attitude, princess."
Kc deflates noticeably. She takes her glass and returns to the chair she was sitting in. Tyler follows and eases himself back down into his armchair. They are quite for a long while as Kc appears to think deeply. She looks up at him and pushes some of her hair out of her face. "I haven't told you, because I wasn't sure I trusted you."
That makes no sense to Tyler, which is exactly what he tells her. "That makes not sense. If you didn't trust me then why did you follow me and Luther around for so long?"
She looks down into her glass and swirls the liquid around. "I don't know, you two were the first to show actual concern for me in a long time." She takes a sip of her drink and grimaces at the taste again. "Suppose I really needed some company for a while and you two were the only ones around."
Tyler sits forward. "What happened to you?" Kc stiffens slightly. "When Luther and I found you out there, it was clear you had dragged yourself a long ways. Not to mention the state of your legs and fee. According to him, you were near a grenade when it went off. That right?"
Subconsciously the girl reaches down and tugs at her pants. she has worn the same pair ever since Tyler lifted them off a merchant a few weeks before arriving in New Vegas. The wounds from whatever happened to her left nasty scars, and Tyler was easily able to tell she was ashamed of them. That is why he got her the pants. Not because he cares or anything.
"I..." she starts slow, "I was once part of a tribe." Tyler had guessed that already. The girl was wicked good with a knife. Hell, any melee weapon for that matter. Not to mention her severe addiction to chems. All sights of being a tribal. "We were the toughest around our area. No other tribes messed with us." She takes another sip of her drink and this time shows no reaction to the taste. "One day my parents took me out on a hunt. It wasn't my first time, but I was still new at it. While we were gone, the camp was attacked."
"When we got back, everyone was dead. Their bodies were piled up in the middle of the camp. They were riddled with bullet holes and gashes, but there were no other bodies around, only ours. From the looks of things, the camp was set upon suddenly and without warning. Our warriors had no chance of defending themselves."
"My father took my mother and me to the tribe he hailed from. The Great Khans. They would not let us in. They claimed we were marked by death and that by letting us in they would be bringing death upon themselves. Again and again we were turned away. Wherever we went misfortune followed. Nearly a year after our tribe was wiped out, my father was killed by a band of raiders. My mother and I escaped, but shew as never the same again. She became distant, reclusive, she stopped talking and eating. She wouldn't sleep. I woke up one morning, and she was gone."
There is a pause before she continues. "I kept moving. I knew that if I stayed still I would die like they did. I stole. I killed. I stayed alive by being smarter or higher than everyone else. I am not as affected by chems as others. Instead of impairing me they wake me up." Tyler shakes his head. Not a very long ago he was carrying her around because she overdosed. So she is either lying, or he was right and she doesn't know when to quite. As if reading her thoughts she continues, "But sometimes I overdo it. Just to get an actual high. I need an escape. Just like everyone else. Just like you and Luther. That is why I steal your chems sometimes."
"Because you have exhausted your supply." Tyler comments dryly. Kc flinches slightly at the tone of his voice. Damn, he didn't mean that the way it sounded. "You still haven't told me what happened to your legs."
She rubs her knees. "I was out on my own. Some merchants came up and offered to trade. I tagged along with them for a few days. A few of the guards kept making advances on me, but I always found ways of avoiding them. Then one night they all came at me at once. They... They..." She trails off. Tyler is able to put two and two together.
"You don't have to say any more."
She nods. "When they were done, they left me lying there and stood around laughing. They didn't realize how close I was to the brahmin. I dragged myself over and took a grenade. I pulled the pin and rolled it towards them. I didn't care any more if I lived or died. I just wanted them dead. The grenade went off, killing many of them right away and tearing the others into pieces. I am lucky I was so close to the brahmin, the beast took a lot of the damage for me, but not all of it."
"As I dragged myself away I could hear some of the guards who were still alive. I looked back. There was this one whose arms were useless. He was glaring at me and spitting up all his blood. There was a pleading look in his eyes. He couldn't shoot himself. He couldn't end his suffering. He wanted me to do it. He wanted me to take mercy on him. I just crawled away and let him bleed."
There is a long silence as she lets her last statement hang in the air. There are not a lot of things that can disgust Tyler, but what those men did is one of them. As far as he is concerned, they got off easy.
"I don't know how long I dragged myself like that." Kc continues. "Everything is a haze. When I felt someone messing around with my legs, I panicked. I thought one of the merchants had found me again. When I opened my eyes and saw Luther and you, that didn't help. I had no idea who you were or what Luther was doing to me. All I knew was that it hurt. So I struggled. It took you grabbing me and shouting that you were trying to save my pathetic ass to make me stay still long enough for Luther to bandage me up."
"After that, I just needed some decent people to be around. You two are not exactly decent, but you are better than what I have been with before. At least with you two I don't have to worry about accidentally leading someone on until they decided to take action themselves." Tyler stares at her. Not understanding what she is saying for a moment.
"No," he growls.
"What?" she appears genuinely confused.
"That was not your fault."
"...But I didn't do anything to make them think they shouldn't..."
"No!" Tyler stand and takes Kc's hands. "What they did was wrong. What they did they did because they wanted to. Nothing you did caused those dirty scum bags to act like that. None of it was your fault. Stop being a child and blaming yourself. Let others take responsibility for their actions while you take responsibility for yours. They came onto you, and you made them pay. It is as simple as that."
"I..."
"It is as simple as that." Tyler growls forcefully. He refuses to break eye contact with her. She tries to look anywhere in the room except at him. Eventually she is forced to look up. She holds his gaze for a few seconds, and then nods. "Good." He sits back down and throws back the rest of his drink. "Never let me hear you try and take the blame for something someone else did ever again. That is a road to sever pain. Trust me, I know."
Luther stares at the stumps on his hand where two of his fingers used to be. The two stumps twitch slightly when the flexes his remaining fingers. The wound is getting old now and he has long since learned to operate his rifle with only two fingers and a thumb, but every now and then some phantom pain shows up, like now.
He sighs and looks at his other hand. This one still has all its fingers, but they move stiffly and he has no feeling in most of them. All of these wounds came from the same incident. When he had to hold himself and Tyler up from a collapsing building. Nick was the one who stitched up up later and removed the two useless fingers. Having received some medical training while in the Enclave, he knows that taking them was the right choice, yet he still harbors some resentment towards Nick for actually doing the deed.
He just wants to make you weaker so he can kill you and take over.
For fucks sake. He tilts the bottle of whiskey he has been nursing up and drains the whole thing. Previously drinking has made the voice shut up and bugger off, now it only seems to make it angry. He has been sitting out on the roof of the Lucky 38 for almost two hours now and the voice hasn't let him have a single moment to himself.
To yourself? What ever do you mean? You and I are one and the same. You do not end and I begin, we simply are. But you feel it don't you? You can feel yourself loosing control. Good. The more you fight me, the stronger I will become. The more you resist, the more persistent I will be.
As if to demonstrate its new found power, Luther's hand moves up on its own. His two good fingers curl inward and then flex back out. He strains, attempting to put his hand down.
You see? I am taking over. More and More I become a part of you. Why don't you just accept it? Why don't you just lie down and rest for a bit? I will take care of us. I will make us great again!
It sounds good. He is so tired. He needs a chance to sleep. To rest. Part of him wants to give in. To let the voice take over and run his life for him. How bad could it be? It isn't like he is dying. He would just be taking some R&R. He starts to feel himself slip into the void again. So easy. To just. Give. In. Good. He wants to. He wants to just be left alone. To not have to worry about going mad any more. To just feel empty. To live in the darkness. Yes. This is good Luther. Give in. I will take care of us. don't you worry. Just sleep.
Sleep...
Sleep!