Author's Note: James has always been a patient man and he will remain so to get what he wants.
James considered himself to be a patient man which had been tested time and again throughout his life.
In the Capital Wasteland, the progress he'd made with Project Purity had been earned with years of taking two steps forward and five leaps back. He'd bled and fought for every scrap of information or technology he could find, while working alongside a mixed team of hard assed Brotherhood of Steel soldiers, anxiety filled scientists and his beautiful, brilliant wife Catherine.
Losing his wife while gaining a wailing baby girl then leaving his life's work behind in a hail of gunfire and explosions had stretched his sanity thin but even then he'd kept his head on his shoulders.
Paladin Cross, one of the Brotherhood's best and brightest, had offered him her protection wherever he needed to go next which he accepted, then put her through hell as they traveled day and night until they reached the settlement called Megaton. Staying the night with the Irish bastard Colin Moriarty in his saloon was one night too long. James had never wanted to throttle someone more but, after a few drinks, his patience won out and the trio left at first light without pissing off the town's sheriff.
Gaining entrance into the sanctuary of Vault 101, however, was another thing.
The Overseer, Alphonse Almodovar, was a stubborn man to negotiate with but James had talked his way through tougher situations and this time his daughter's livelihood was on the line. He wasn't going to take no for an answer. In the end, however, it was pure luck that gained him entrance. The vault's current doctor passed in the middle of the night and wasn't it just handy that James showed up?
The baby girl in his arms screamed as an alarm began to blare and the screeching of the huge, solid steel door slid open to reveal a handgun wielding welcoming party covered head to toe in kevlar. His weapons were confiscated and his crude armor was stripped from his body until he was only left in his underwear. He wasn't sure if his guards looked away to preserve whatever modesty they thought he had or to avoid the scars that littered his body.
Only Jonas Palmer, the Vault's only medical assistant, hadn't averted his eyes once. Doe brown eyes behind wire framed glasses had practically devoured every bruise and dip with awe. The kid couldn't have been older than 18, yet, he'd poked and prodded at James' body with skill that spoke of years of practice.
James' mind whirred with possibilities as he considered the dark skinned man in front of him. They hadn't exchanged any words that weren't related to his health or that of his daughter but he attributed that more to the guards that still surrounded them in the Vault's main medical office than any nervousness from Jonas.
James was going to be there for the long haul, however, and he was nothing if not patient.