Disclaimer: I do not own Fallout.
Author's Note: Hey guys. I know it's been a while. Like, a long while. But a LOT has gone on. I'm not going to go into the details. I'm just going to update. This story has lit a fire under my ass, and so I'm continuing it. I really hope some of you are still around to read this. Please enjoy and review.
Chapter Fourteen
Escape
It seemed to Jane that Butch had barely left the parlor when she heard the door sliding open again.
"That was fast," she teased, not even looking over her shoulder as she shuffled her drawings into a semblance of order and placed them high on a shelf. "Was the processed casserole not to your liking?"
"I've never been too fond of casserole, but I might be willing to try some if you're willing to join me."
Shocked beyond words, Jane slowly turned around at the familiar voice that was definitely not Butch.
"Tom," she said dumbly. "I didn't think you'd come."
She blushed almost immediately at unintentional transparency, but for some reason her forthright proclamation made Tom smile at her.
"I wasn't sure myself, but then I realized if I didn't, I would make even a bigger fool of myself than if I asked and you told me off."
"Asked what?" Jane blurted.
"If you'd join me for a bite in the diner," he said, looking a little bashful, but confident and handsome at the same time. "I completely understand if you already have plans. This was a tad impulsive of me, but as I said, the casserole is truly awful, and some pleasant company might make the experience much more enjoyable."
Jane stared at him mutely for a moment, her mind reeling at the sheer incredulity of this scenario. Here was Tom Holden, whom some might call the most eligible bachelor in the Vault, asking her to join him for lunch. Had Butch actually been right, or was this some kind of trick?
"I – I, um – sure."
Tom smiled again, and she could detect no trace of deceit in his expression, which ruled out the theory that she was being tricked.
"Excellent. Shall we go together."
Nodding numbly, she followed him from the parlor and walked alongside him in the direction of the Atrium, then down the staircase that entered the diner. They remained in complete silence the whole way; Jane was too stunned even to think, though she could feel a definite sense of embarrassment at the fact that she could come up with nothing clever or charming to say. He would think she was some kind of simpleton if she didn't speak soon, but at the moment her tongue almost seemed glued to the roof of her mouth.
As they took their lunch trays and chose a secluded booth apart from the ones already filled, she had the distinct impression of dozens of eyes staring at them, and the chatter that had assailed them upon entering the diner had fallen into a hushed hissing sounds, as though thousands of whispers were circulating around them.
"I apologize," Tom said suddenly, breaking their silence. "I seem to have embarrassed you."
Startled out of her silence, Jane said, "No, no you haven't. It's just – I don't quite understand why I'm here."
Tom gave her a small, teasing smile. "I asked you, don't you remember?"
Jane blushed. "Of course. It's just that I don't really know you, and you don't know me, and I was more than surprised that you just spur-of-the-moment decided you wanted to have lunch with me."
"Well, if I'm honest, it wasn't quite as spur of the moment as I portrayed," he admitted, keeping his voice low so others would not overhear. "I thought it over most of the morning, and wasn't even sure if I would drum up the courage to ask. But after our brief encounter yesterday – well, I wanted to know you more."
Jane blushed even deeper. "All I did was sear a graven image into your skin and talk about some outdated Latin apothegms."
"True," Tom said with a wry smile. "But the more I thought it over, the more I kept thinking 'here I've met a beautiful, intelligent, talented girl, and it would be rather foolish of me if I never spoke to her again'."
Jane had no idea what to say to that and for the vaguest moment she had the desire to be like Susie or Christie; they at least would not sit there like a dimwit, unable to speak much less come up with a rejoinder.
"I – I, um –"
"Sorry," Tom said again quickly, looking a little bashful himself now as he lowered his eyes to his tray, then looked sheepishly back up at her again. "I said too much. I'd hope we could just have a simple lunch together, but I seem to have ruined that."
"It's not entirely you," Jane murmured. "Have you noticed everyone is watching us?"
From the corner of her eye, she surveyed the room, and indeed, everyone was watching, some covertly, others less so. She could see Butch grouped with his cronies in one of the corner booths, and even he was watching them, obviously pleased that things had gone exactly as he had predicted.
"Ah, yes," he said, glancing around himself. "When you're the son of a high-ranking member of the Vault, everyone tends to watch every move you make. Perhaps this was a bad idea –"
"Oh," Jane said, feeling a sudden drop in the region of her stomach. "Th-that's okay. If you'd prefer to go –"
"I didn't mean coming here with you," Tom corrected himself quickly. "I meant coming here, where everyone could gawk and stare like we're a pair of animals in a cage."
Jane was so relieved at his words that she smiled, but then immediately wondered at her reaction. What did it matter if he changed his mind or not?
"Well, since we're here, we might as well talk," she said. "How was your morning?"
"Positively dull," he said with a wry smile. "Being a junior adviser to the Overseer isn't nearly as thrilling as some might expect. In the morning I have tutoring sessions with old Mr. Abernathy."
"Tutoring sessions?" Jane asked. "I thought you would already have finished with schooling."
"Formal schooling, yes, but there is still much I must learn," he said. "I'm expected to memorize the codes and laws used to govern the Vault's day to day life, law's that have been outdated and struck from the codex, and how each previous Overseer ruled over the Vault and the how's and why's of his decisions concerning judicial matters." He paused for a moment and smiled again. "Very boring stuff, I'm sure."
"Actually, I find it rather fascinating," Jane said sincerely. "I would never have considered it as a career for myself, but it must be empowering to have that much information at your fingertips."
"It keeps me busy," Tom conceded. "In the afternoon, I'm closeted away with my father, other advisers and junior advisers, and the Overseer himself. Basically it's several hours of the Overseer making decisions and the rest of us just nodding our heads in agreement and praising his wisdom."
Jane grinned. For a moment, it was as though they were sharing the same thought, and it was a comfort to know that someone so deep in the Overseer's circle could see him just as clearly as she did. She wanted to voice her own opinion, but was well aware of everyone listening. "Well, at least you've got that to look forward too every day," she said. Every word sounded sincere, but the twinkle in her eyes gave Tom a brief glimpse of her true thoughts.
"Indeed," Tom said. "But enough about my day. How was yours?"
"Oh, I'm afraid it's not nearly as riveting," she said airily. "I woke up, I came to work, I set up shop. Then I take appointments, go to lunch, take more appointments, close everything up, go home, then start over the next day. It's work, nothing more, nothing less."
"Do you like it?"
Jane paused and picked at her food for a moment, having never truly thought about it. She'd railed against it so much in the beginning, and after a time it simply became something she did day after day.
"I – I think so," she said uncertainly. "It's not my dream, but it has its moments. It can be satisfying at times. But it's no where near as demanding as what you do."
"I can imagine that it leaves you with considerable more free time than if you'd become a doctor," he agreed, but immediately regretted it as her eyes became clouded. "Sorry," he apologized quietly, horribly aware that almost everyone in the diner had witness his blunder and her embarrassment. "I only meant that -"
"No, you're absolutely right," Jane said with a steely glint in her eyes, refusing to be brought low before all of her peers. "Family, friends, projects... I never would have had time for them." After a few seconds of silence during which neither of them knew how to proceed, Jane glanced at the time on her Pip-Boy and got to her feet. "Speaking of which, I had some side work I wanted to finish before my next appointment. I'll see you around."
"Right..." Tom said quietly, clearly embarrassed as he got to his feet. "I won't keep you."
Completely humiliated, and doing her best to hide it, Jane dumped her tray and left the diner. The moment she was alone in the stairwell, she was consumed by feelings she hadn't felt in months. Anger. Shame. Hatred for the vault and everyone inside it. Fury that her life had been stunted and there was nothing she could do to help herself. By the time she had enclosed herself within the workshop behind the parlor, she even hated Tom Holden. He had everything he wanted. A career. Social standing. Security of knowing his life was going in the direction he wanted. Knowing he hadn't meant to humiliate her didn't soften the blow of being publicly reminded of what her life had been reduced to. In a way, her encounter with him had been the exact kind of thing she'd been trying to avoid by keeping Amata out of her life. It was bad enough to be forced into a life she had not chosen and did not want. It was even more painful to deal with when she was face to face with those who were permitted to live up to their real potential. And to have it happened like that! Unexpectedly, out of the blue, and publicly to boot. It wasn't right! It wasn't fair!
Looking around the room, taking in her tools and her sketchpads and her workbench, she felt a sickening burst of rage inside her. She was sick of this! She was sick of making the best of a life she did not want! She was tired of this joke of a job and the mind-numbing monotony of it!
Picking up a box of colored crystals in her hand, she regarded it for a moment with an expression that might have been cold and scientific, but then her inner turmoil broke through the surface, and without another thought, she hurled it against the cold metal wall.
With a loud crash, the hard plastic box ricocheted of the wall and popped open. All of the colored crystals flew in every direction while the box itself skidded across the floor. Jane looked around the at the mess, feeling a fleeting moment of satisfaction, but it wasn't enough. Baring her teeth in frustration, she grabbed one of her sketchpads, tearing out the pages and throwing them violently around the room, eventually throwing the whole book against the door. But it still was not enough. Her tools, her spare parts, even the HoloInstructors that she learned her trade from. She took them and destroyed them, threw them, whatever it took to ease this horrible feeling consuming her and bursting out of her!
"I hate this place! I hate this life!" she screamed, grabbing the heavy terminal still on her desk and with a great heave, hurling it as far as she could manage. It hit the floor with a loud crash that probably could have been heard down as far away as the atrium. But Jane didn't care. She was done. She was finished. Swearing to herself that she wouldn't spend one more day in this room, she turned around and marched out of the workshop, through the parlor, stopping only to grab her backpack and the tattoo gun. Stuffing that into her backpack, she marched down the hall leading back to her apartment, a wild, vague plan already forming in her mind. She'd go back to her apartment, pack up her belongings, and then –
"Hey!"
A loud shout made her swing around irritably. She was not in the mood to be stopped, but when she saw Butch chasing her down, she waited until he caught up to her before taking off again.
"Hey, Jane, hold on a sec," he said, grabbing her shoulder and spinning her to face him. "What the hell's going on? Have you seen the shop? Looks like somebody trashed the place."
"So what?"
"So what?" he asked, glaring at her. "Your stuff is all over the place… Your pictures are all torn up!"
"I know," she said patiently, taking off again.
"Okay, so you know," he said, keeping pace with her. "And I take it you don't care?"
"Nope," she said.
"Okay, I'm done with the twenty questions," he said. "Tell me what's going on. Did Holden do something to piss you off or what?"
"No," she said. "But talking to him made me realize how sick of this I am," she said. They had reached her apartment by now, and she touched the sensor to open the door, not caring when Butch followed her inside. No one was home. Her father was still at the clinic.
"Sick of what?" Butch asked, following her into her room and leaning against the door frame.
"Sick of this!" she shouted, gesturing around the room as though the answer was blatantly obvious. "I'm sick of the Vault! I'm sick of this life! And I'm so sick of being held back!"
Slamming her backpack onto her bed, she ripped the zipper open before tearing open her dresser drawers and hurling her jumpsuits out of it. Most of them landed on the bed, but some just flew across the room and hit the walls.
"So… you're leaving?" Butch didn't mean to say it like a question; her intent was obvious, but he almost couldn't believe the words.
"Yes, I'm leaving," she said calmly, not realizing that she was even planning it until the words came out of her mouth.
"Okay," Butch said, fishing a smoke out of his pocket and lighting it. "Not that I'm not all for it, but what exactly is your plan?"
"Simple," Jane said, now hunting down the parts to her BB gun and quickly assembling the weapon. "I'll pack up all my clothes and grab some rations from the diner. And thanks to you, I know where the front door is."
"So what? You're just going to march up to it and demand to be let out?"
"Something like that."
"And if they say no?"
"That's what I've got this for," she said, clipping the last piece of the BB gun into place a loading the small metal BBs into it.
"You're toy gun?" he scoffed. "You do realize those guards are armored, right? And carrying real guns?"
"Well, my tattoo gun doubles as a laser weapon now. That should do some damage. Now, which one do you want?"
"Which one?" Butch asked, glaring at her warily. "Are you expecting me to go along with this suicide mission?"
"It's only a suicide mission if they kills us," she said, "which I really don't think it'll come to that."
"Why not?"
"Because firstly, we have the element of surprise," she said matter-of-factly. "Second, I really don't think they're going to want to hurt us. We're still under age. The guards just see us as kids. And even if it comes to a fight, we'll both be armed."
He didn't say anything to that, but Jane could clearly see the skepticism in his eyes. "Come on Butch, you've already told me how much you want to leave this place! So lets go! I'm ready!"
He still didn't say anything, and Jane could feel herself getting angry again. Why wasn't he agreeing with her? She knew how badly he wanted to escape this place. That single desire was one thing that had bonded them together in the first place. Hissing furiously, Jane turned her back on him, grabbing her jumpsuits that had landed on the floor.
"Fine," she said. "If you're too chicken to come, then I'll go by myself!"
"Who's chicken?" Butch said, his own temper rising. "I just don't want to get involved in a shoot out with half of vault security. There's no glory in that. If you want to go, fine, we'll go. But first you need to cool it. We need a real plan, not some half-baked scheme you thought up in the middle of your temper tantrum."
"Temper tantrum?!" she shouted. "Do I look like some five year old, pouting and stomping my feet because I have to clean my room or do my homework? I am not pouting! I am furious! And I am fed up! I'm tired of pretending that my life has any meaning to me anymore!"
"Don't talk like you have nothing!" Butch retorted hotly. "You actually have a family. People that care about you. I would kill for that, you know? What are you going to do, just leave them behind?"
"So what, because they care about me, I have to stay locked in here forever?" Jane cried in disbelief. "They can't even see how much I'm hurting. They're so lost in their own world, they'd rather see what they want to see than face the truth. And as for my father – my father! He's so busy with his work he barely has time for me! He just buries himself in it, so he doesn't have face the fact that my mother is gone, so he doesn't have see how miserable I am! I love him, but I swear when he looks at me he doesn't actually see me. How much it hurts. How I'm suffocating and being smother out. He only sees what he wants to: his daughter, happy and safe. He just doesn't see me anymore!" Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment, her face drawn in long lines of agony. "I just want out. I WANT OUT!"
Butch could not speak. His own anger did not abate; in fact the words she'd shouted only inflamed him further. But he was not angry at her. No, he was suddenly fuming, furious and hating the world around him with a red-hot anger that he hadn't felt in years. Anger at the Overseer. At the stupid rules to tried to confine him at every turn, smothering him, like Jane had said. At the father who had left him before he could even remember him. And at his mother, especially his mother… always drunk and passed out on the floor of their apartment, burying herself in alcohol, too far gone to care for him, too see him. To see how much he was hurting, how much he needed her. The words that Jane was shouting seemed to come straight from his own lips, if he had dared to acknowledge his own pain. And suddenly he was consumed by the rightness of this moment. Him and Jane, standing toe to toe, engaged in a shouting match that could probably be heard clear down the hall. But something was wrong. They shouldn't be shouting at each other. He wasn't really mad at her. And he knew she wasn't mad at him. They were angry at the people who had hurt them, at their confinement. And Butch couldn't escape the realization of how right this felt. Burning with anger and something else he couldn't name, he threw his smoke on the floor, snuffing it under his boot at he took a deliberate step toward her.
Jane didn't flinch away as he would have expected. Instead she mirrored him, throwing aside the armful of jumpsuits and stepping toward him challengingly, almost as though she were daring him to come closer. It was a challenge that he would never turn down. With another step he closed the distance between them and roughly pulled her against his chest. When their lips met, it was just as intense as last time. The fire between them escalated, burning hotter, and there was no room for gentleness. He kissed her with with a passion bordering on violence, and Jane knew her lips would be bruised from it. But she didn't care anymore. None of it mattered. She kissed him back with the same ferocity, letting out all the pain and rage that scalded her insides. She almost growled at him when he pulled his lips away from hers, but he forced her to look into his baby-blue eyes.
"You're mine," he hissed. "You know that, don't you."
"Am I?" she asked menacingly. "I thought you didn't want me like that."
Butch shook his head. "I want you. Just you."
There was no room for words after that. Jane pulled his mouth back to hers, not caring in this moment whether he meant the words or not. The fire inside her would not be extinguished. When his fingers began pulling down the zipper at her throat, she knew she wouldn't stop him. Her own hands were preoccupied anyway, pushing and pulling his leather jacket from his shoulders. Almost violently they were tearing at each others clothes, practically fighting each other in their efforts to get the other undressed. Of course, Butch had the advantage. He was much bigger, much stronger, and wrenched her jumpsuit down in such a way that her arms were trapped at her sides. Jane struggled at first, but when Butch knelt down in front of her and took one of her nipples into his greedy mouth, she ceased almost instantly, her body quivering with pleasure. His arms were wrapped around her, holding her against him while he sucked at her. He was not gentle, and she cried out in shock at the intense pressure.
"Butch," she said, practically growling at him. "Let me out of this thing."
He ignored her, kissing, sucking, and biting his way down her stomach, following the open path that her zipper left. It wasn't enough. She wanted to be even closer to him.
"Please," she finally said. "Now. Now!"
His sharp eyes looked up into hers, and with a sharp tug he pulled her jumpsuit down, freeing her arms. Whereas before they had fought each other, now they were working together in unison, one mind if not yet one body. She quickly removed her boots, then shimmied out of her jumpsuit as he pulled the heavy fabric down her legs. When she was completely naked, she pulled down his zipper while he shrugged off his jacket. Within seconds they were both naked and falling into her bed, kicking and swiping her backpack and the jumpsuits out of their way before pulled her against him and covered her body with his. Her legs were already around him, and though she expected him to enter her immediately, he did not. He hovered over her looking down into her eyes as he supported his weight on his elbows, careful not to crush her small body beneath his.
"What?" she hissed impatiently, flexing her hips beneath him. "What are you waiting for?"
"You're my girl," he said. "I want you to know that. This... this means something to me."
His words were simple, but she knew the enormity of the meaning behind them. She felt a tightness in her throat and chest, and nodded in response, sealing their lips together before she could make an idiot out of herself by spewing mushy, romantic declarations.
And then she felt it, the tip of something thick and hard pushing itself into her body. She knew she should try to relax; she'd read enough pre-war romance novels and medical material to understand how this was supposed to work. But she was too riled up. Her frustration at her own circumstances, her hatred for the Overseer, her anger at her own father, her burning desire to escape, and this… her inexplicable connection to Butch DeLoria, the fire that burned inside them both… She couldn't relax. She didn't care if it hurt her. She needed him inside her right now. Arching her back, she lifted her hips and squeezed her legs around him, forcing him into her much faster than he had intended.
He hissed at the unexpected movement, then obliged her without thinking, thrusting himself into her in one motion. Their cries mingled together in a melody of ecstasy and pain. Instantly, Butch froze. Partly because the sensation of her wrapped around him was so intense he almost forgot how to breathe, and partly because he could almost feel the pain ripping through her. He knew she had to be hurting. Looking down, he could see her small teeth biting into her lower lip.
"Damn it, Jane," he hissed, "what did you do that for? Are you okay?"
She nodded, taking quick, shuddering breaths as she breathed through the pain. "I'm fine," she finally said. "Don't stop now."
Common sense told him to wait. Common sense told him she needed more time. But common sense flew out the window when he felt her moving her hips beneath his. His hips began to move in response, though he was able to hold himself back just a bit. He wanted to thrust into her violently until coherent thought was nothing but a distant memory, and he sense that that was what she was trying to get from him. But she was his girl now. He wouldn't hurt her like that. So he fought himself, going to far as to pin her hips to the bed so that she could no longer egg him into going faster. He moved slowly, gently, listening to her responses and only moving faster when he felt the edge of pain in her cries give way to pleasure. And then there was no more thought for either one of them. Her arms wrapped around him of their own accord, holding him close as their bodies began to move together. The burning between them became almost painful in its intensity, but that only made their movements more frenzied. The friction and the heat became their whole world. Nothing matter beyond this moment, and it felt as though there could never be anyone else in the world for either of them. Nothing could match this thing between them, or even hope to overcome it. Butch looked into her eyes as he thrust into her, something he'd never done with Susie or Christie. It was too much. Too intimate. But with Jane, he needed it. If she looked back at him, then he knew this was real. That he wasn't alone anymore.
Her eyes did not hesitate to meet his.
Groaning, he picked up his pace, relishing the sheer intensity of this moment. On the one hand, it scared the hell out of him, but on the other, he never wanted it to stop. Threading his fingers through his hair, he pulled her mouth up to his.
Jane kissed him feverishly, unable to stop herself from holding him so tightly. She had never imagined she her body could feel this way. The pleasure was almost unbearable. She couldn't think. Everything she'd been so upset about a moment ago, all of the pain and anger that had consumed her, none of it mattered anymore. The feel and taste and smell him surrounded her was near overwhelming, and just when she thought the pleasure couldn't get any more intense, she felt an intense tightening deep inside her that brought on a stab of pleasure that was almost painful.
"Butch?" she whispered urgently, crying out when it happened again, this time even more intense.
"Shh, it's okay baby, I've got you."
She could barely hear him over the sound of her own cries. Each thrust wound her up tighter and tighter, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. The loss of control frightened her, but Butch was there, his husky voice whispering to her, though she could not make out most of what he said.
Butch watched her face as he pushed her closer. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and she was so close he could almost feel it. Fuck, he was so close he could barely hold back...
Finally he heard her scream, felt the flood of wet heat around his cock and her back arching beneath him, and he couldn't resist joining her, groaning as he came deep inside her. He wanted nothing more than to collapse, but feared he would crush her, he rolled them over, switching their positions so that she was laying on top of him, shuddering against his chest.
When it was over, they did not immediately separate. They lay together, panting and sweating, still joined. Jane was still acutely aware of every minute sensation. She could feel him inside her even when he was soft. She could hear the roughness of his breathing. Could feel the moisture on his skin. She could even feel his heart pounding against his ribs, though she couldn't hear it over her own pulse. It was long time before either of them could move, much less speak, but when they did, she could only think of one thing to say.
"You meant what you said."
He didn't need to ask. "Yes."
"Why did you change your mind?"
Butch shrugged. "This is right. We're right. We're the same. Whether we escape tonight, or stay here until we die, who else are we going to find this with?"
She laughed at the question. "You've got me there."
Butch laughed with her, but then abruptly went serious. Looking at her, he said, "I wasn't wrong, was I?"
The brief glimpse of insecurity she saw in his eyes stunned her. She swallowed thickly. "No."
He grinned, immediately arrogant and cocksure. "I knew that. Just wanted to hear you say it."
She giggled and snuggled into his chest, sighing when he squeezed his arms around her and started kissing her tender mouth. It was a moment that could have gone on forever, and she wouldn't have complained. But when she heard the muted hissing of the apartment door sliding open and shut, she shot up like someone had electrocuted her.
"Janie? Sweetheart, where are you?"
It was her dad. He sounded anxious to her ears.
"Shit," she hissed, and Butch would have laughed to hear her curse if she hadn't jumped out of bed like she had been launched out of it, pulling him with her. They began to dress as quickly as they could, but they weren't even completely in their jumpsuits before the door to her room slid open, causing her to yelp and clutch the first thing she could lay her hands on to her naked chest. It was Butch's leather jacket.
"Dad!" she exclaimed, her cheeks flaming as she faced him. At first there was nothing but silence. Her father's eyes flashed between the two of them. He looked almost too stunned to understand what he was looking at. But James was an intelligent man; she could see understanding quickly replacing confusion, and that was soon followed by shock and anger.
"What the hell is going on here?"
To his credit, Butch refrained from making a sarcastic retort, letting Jane take the lead.
"Dad, what are you doing here?" she stammered, moving in front of Butch in a futile attempt to hide him from her father's piercing eyes. "You were supposed to be working."
"As you should be," he said shortly, still looking at her with anger and disbelief. "Officer Gomez came to find me. Said he was looking for you. You'd missed your appointment with him, and no one seemed to know where you were. He said it looked like your shop had been ransacked."
Looking around the room, he noticed for the first time that her things were scattered all over the floor. Her jumpsuits were everywhere. One of her dresser drawers had been ripped completely from the dresser in her haste. Her BB gun was laying haphazardly in the corner of her room. And her bed… all the blankets were messed and askew, and clear as day were several splotches of blood right in the middle of the bed. Eyes bulging, he looked over his daughter, taking in the bruises on her arms, around her neck, even on her lips.
"What happened here?" he demanded, his voice low and strained. He looked at Butch, who still hadn't said a word, standing their with jumpsuit around his waist and his chest still bare. Butch could immediately see the conclusion the Doc was drawing, even if Jane hadn't. "Get away from him, Jane," he said harshly, grabbing her bare arm and yanking her behind him. The moment she was out of his view she began forcing her arms into the sleeves of her jumpsuit. Just as she was pulling up the zipper she realized her father was still speaking.
"– knew you were a miscreant of the worst quality, Mister DeLoria, but even I wouldn't have thought you'd have the audacity and poor judgement to force yourself on my daughter!"
For a moment Jane was stunned speechless, unable to comprehend what her father was saying. Her fingers went numb, frozen at the neck of her jumpsuit as she started in shock at her father.
"So you attacked her at work, and then followed her home and… and did this?" her father accused, practically shaking with rage. "I'll make sure you're arrested for this, Mister DeLoria. Mark my words, you're not going to weasel your way out of this one."
"Dad, what're you saying –" she gasped.
"Now hold on a minute –" Butch started.
"Don't even speak," James barked at him, angry in a way that Jane had never seen before. He did not raise his voice. He was still soft-spoken as ever, but he would have sounded less terrifying if he'd yelled. Even being in the same proximity with him like this sent a chill up Jane's spine. "I know your kind," he went on. "You pick on those weaker and smaller than you. It always starts as bullying. But then the bully grows up. Gets older. His needs get more complex. The desire for violence gets stronger, runs deeper. And an innocent young girl makes an easy target. You know where she works. Where she lives. She can't fight you and can't get away from you."
"Dad, stop! You don't –"
James didn't seem to hear her as he took a menacing step toward Butch. "Oh, you'll pay, Mister DeLoria. One way or another, I'll make sure of that. I did not sacrifice everything to keep my daughter safe so she could be raped by a monster in the safety of her own home!"
"No, Dad, no!" Jane cried, struggling against her father as she tried to get between them. "Dad, stop, please! It didn't happen like that! Butch didn't rape me!"
Finally, he heard her. He stopped speaking, though it seemed like several minutes before he could turned to face his daughter. He was still angry, but his voice was slightly less menacing as he directed his attention to her.
"If he didn't hurt you, then how do you explain these bruises? How do you explain this?" he gestured at the mess on the floor.
"I did that," she said timidly.
"Jane, would you ransack your own room?" her father demanded.
"I wasn't ransacking it, Dad, I was…" For a moment, she was afraid to say it; she almost felt like a frightened little girl, afraid of angering her daddy. But then she remembered what had brought her to this junction, and she felt her temper rising all over again. Her eyes and voice hardened as she looked at her father. "I was packing."
The words hung in the air between them, and it was a moment before James could speak.
"Packing?" he asked, almost as though he did not understand the word.
"Yes. We're leaving."
"Leaving?"
"Yes, leaving. Forever."
Finally, she could see he knew exactly what she meant. Several emotions passed through his eyes. Disbelief. Confusion. Fear. Anger. Over his shoulder, Jane could see Butch's expression. He was clearly impressed at her audacity, and it almost made her smile.
James did not miss her glance in Butch's direction, and it suddenly clicked in his head. "You said 'we're leaving'."
"Yes. I found out I'm not the only one who wants to get out of this horrible place. I'm leaving with Butch."
The meaning of her words finally got home, and he turned on Butch with a cold glare. "Get out of my house. Now."
Butch stood with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the doc, then looked at Jane, gauging what she wanted.
"Don't look at her. Look at me," James snapped. "This is my home, and she is my daughter. And I want you gone from both. And I'm going to say this once, Mister DeLoria. If you you ever come near my daughter again, if you speak to her, if you even so much as look at her, it will be the last thing you do on this earth."
It was almost beyond comprehension. Who was this man? Looking into his eyes, Jane could find no trace of her gentle, indulgent father. The man before her now appeared cold and deadly, and quite frankly, he terrified her.
Ripping Butch's jacket from Jane's arms, he threw it at the Tunnel Snake and pointed menacingly toward the door. "Get out."
Again, Butch looked at Jane. Her expression was still angry, but she nodded at him. He knew this wasn't over, but he understood. He wouldn't want her there when he was fighting with his mom.
Shrugging his broad shoulders, he pulled his jumpsuit the rest of the way on and slammed his feet into his boots. "Whatever, Doc, I was on my way out anyway," he said indifferent. "I'll catch ya later, doll."
A vein twitched in James's temple to hear the Tunnel Snake address his daughter in such a way, but he said nothing as he let the Tunnel Snake pass. When Butch was finally gone, he turned toward his daughter. "I meant what I said, sweetheart," he told her sternly, his voice losing some of its menacing quality now that they were alone. "For your own good, I don't want you having anything more to do with that boy. I don't know how you got this mixed up with him, and it doesn't really matter anymore. What's done is done. But it ends now."
Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Jane looked her father in the eyes and said, "No, Dad. I won't do that."
James sucked in a harsh breath, almost unable to believe his ears. His daughter had never before spoken to him in such a way and it deeply concerned him.
"Jane, sweetheart, I only want what's best for you," he said, trying to soften his tone. His daughter always listened to reason, and he appealed to that now. "Butch isn't a good influence for you. He's always been a cruel, violent bully. He cares nothing for anyone but himself. And now he's encouraging you to leave the vault! Is that what a good friend would do?"
"He's not encouraging me to do anything, Dad!" Jane almost yelled in exasperation. "Don't you understand? I want to leave. I hate this place! I'm tired of having my life decided for me. I'm leaving and you can't stop me!"
Fear overwhelmed James in a way it hasn't in a long time. This could not be happening. He did not want that life for his daughter. He couldn't allow it. He had to stop her. And he would, no matter what it took.
Stepping closer to her, he took his precious child in his arms, holding her close and placing a tender kids on her forehead. "I love you sweetheart. You have no idea how much. And I am not going to do whatever it takes to keep you from ruining your future. So I am going to the chief of security to warn him that I've heard rumors of citizens wanting to escape the vault."
Jane gasped and wrenched herself from her father's arms, unable to believe her ears. If security was tipped off before they had a chance to escape, the guard around the vault door would be doubled around the clock. Security all over the vault would be on high alert. She'd never be able to get out.
"No, Dad, you can't do that!"
"Yes, I can," James said sternly. "I will not allow you or that delinquent punk to ruin your life. This is your future were talking about here, Jane."
"What future?" Jane cried, almost yelling again. "I have nothing here!"
"You have everything, Jane! You have the best future this world has to offer!" James said vehemently. "Do you honestly believe if there is anyone alive beyond that door that they really have a better life than you do? Do you think they have a safe home, a bed to sleep in, meals provided to them, clean water to drink, or even something so fundamental as an education?" James was almost careless in his frustration, and he did not mind words as he normally would have as he fought to drive his point home to his stubborn daughter. "Worst case scenario, they're all irradiated mutants, or deranged savages. Best case scenario, they're all dead." Jane winced at the cold, heartless way he said the words, but her father did not relent. "And I will not let your own foolishness condemn you to the same fate."
Jane had never fought with her father this way, and hated the way it was making her feel. Against her wishes, her lower lip began to tremble, but she refused to back down.
"I don't believe you," she cried, although she knew she was contradicting him on the basis of no knowledge whatsoever. "I can't accept that this is the best life has to offer. How would you know that there's nothing better out there if you've never even stepped outside the front door!"
James shook his head. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but my decision is final."
And Jane knew that it was.
"I'll never forgive you for this," she whispered brokenly.
Tears streaming down her cheeks, she dashed past her father and ran from the apartment, but she had no idea where to go. Where, in this entire vault, was there to go? These tunnels just went around and around, leading nowhere and always arriving back at the same place.
Even though there could be no escape, and she was almost blinded by tears, Jane began to run.