Fathers are very often heralded as a symbol of strength and wisdom in the family unit. This was true of the Old World. And also true of Max's generation, in the Core Regions of the Republic. Unlike the greater Wasteland beyond, where children were violently separated from their families or never even knew of their dad's identity and whereabouts, young Californians grew up in a secure environment where raiders and beast would not bring a quick, tragic end to their familial bond.
When the occasional dispute arose, he was there to fix it. When something broke in the house, he just knew how to repair it. One day, after an older kid stole her toy in kindergarten, her father personally sought out the kid's own dad, dragged him to school, and had him and his son personally apologize to his daughter in front of all the kids.
He even had them both grovel in front of her before giving her the toy back, with the premise that the kid or his friends wouldn't be coming back anytime soon. Discussions with very concerned teachers aside, the rest of that year was a smooth ride.
She was sure that he'd stand tall as a rock no matter the trouble. So what if Mom was suddenly away? She knew he'd bring her back. But to assist in his endeavor, she gifted him with a red car toy before his departure, in case he'd ever need help to convince her to return, and spent a month and a half telling her younger brother that they'd be back. Things would be back to normal, and that auntie Norma had a lot of toys to keep them busy until then.
Then he returned.
…
Conrad would always end up sleeping early, to the surprise –and eventual relief- of aunt Norma and her husband, Doug. They credited Max for it at the time. Still, she knew that she could only summon forth so much authority as a mere three years old, especially when she already couldn't do it as an adult. And Conrad himself couldn't provide answers years after the fact, owing to a foggy memory. But his sister knew, and she suspected that deep down, so did he: He merely wanted to be up and ready for the day where his parents could come back to fetch them. And the sooner he went to sleep, the sooner that day would come. For, if it wasn't that day, then it'd be the next. And if it wasn't the next, then they were still getting closer to that day with every night. He'd always look a bit disappointed after waking up to see aunt Norma, uncle Doug, and his sister, but no trace of his parents.
Even at that age, he was a sweet kid, so he'd hide it with a goofy smile.
Max was the opposite: She'd stay up late, very late even. It was easy for her since her "auntie" and "uncle" rarely checked on them at night early on. And where other kids would use that opportunity to play some more or sneak into the kitchen and acquire some sweets for themselves, the young girl was content to stay in bed or, when she felt impatient, sneak out of the room and down the hall. After putting the kids to sleep, Norma and her husband went to their living room, and they'd sometimes speak of Roger or Bonnie. Max hoped to glean information out of these little drop-ins, but they used words too complex for her to understand yet when talking to one another. Or they'd complain about the neighbor and describe him as a "dick" amongst other things. When it went on for too long, Max would put them aside and wait to see if her dad wouldn't come back in the middle of the night. It wouldn't be surprising if him, since he suddenly brought them here while it was dark outside, to begin with, before leaving in search of mom.
Sometimes she had to skip out on staying up late, though. As Max figured out, not getting sleep on the bed meant getting sleep at class or while eating with the others, and the other adults noticed that and informed aunt Norma. This caused Norma to patrol more often at night, mainly limiting Max's nocturnal activities to the room she shared with her brother. Even as a kid, Max had the wisdom to know that it was bad to be up for too long and too late, but she had too much energy to waste, and going on her bed did very little to dissipate it. Quite the opposite, in fact: Her thoughts would wander about too much. The question of her father's absence would haunt her. So she found it preferable to slide a red toy car along the ground multiple times or smack it against another black toy car until the latter eventually broke. Norma probably still didn't know that, too, since the young girl buried the toy deep into the chest that their auntie had gifted upon them early on.
But it wasn't so surprising that she'd pick up these habits when her thirst for questions was left unquenched for so long. Dad hadn't given the duo any instructions before leaving, apparently, nor announced when he'd return. He did promise them money, which he had stuffed away in a hidden stash. And every week or so, Doug would come and pick it up. Credits must be given. They did try to keep the children safe and happy while something tumultuous was happening to them. But the more it went on, the more irritated they were becoming with the ordeal. Max and Conrad, in the meantime, tried to act as if nothing was happening. Aside from having to take a different path to go to school, it worked well. The other kids did notice that the same person wasn't coming back to pick her up. Apathy prevailed for most of them, and they were content to ignore it.
It was a particular brand of torture to see them get picked up by their parents, while Norma (or a very tired Doug) was now in charge of getting Max back from school. Not that Max wanted to let the others see it, though, since that'd be admitting there was a problem. However, Andrew did notice a few times and sometimes asked his own parents to pick him and Max up from school. He even asked her if she wanted to come over for a sleepover with "the boys," as he called! She declined, however. Conrad would be left alone and was too young to participate in sleepovers, so she had to stay. Because if everyone in the family was ditching him, what was he supposed to do at this point?
The days would go by, and the guardians grew more and more irritated, even if they'd never let it reflect upon the kids. Their conversations at night would increase in pitch and intensity. Her father's name would come up more and more, tied to words that got her nasty glares and lectures when she used them at school the following day, which by the way, got Norma even more irritated at Max's late-night escapades! Things reached a point where Norma had set up a post in front of the door and would check on the room at the slightest sound heard, no matter what. This worked in confining Max to her bed, but alas, she could still listen. Because it was easy to listen to the sounds coming out of the staircase near the place.
And Max prayed to be able to hear her dad's heavy footsteps once more. And, one random night, after yet another eventless day, she heard him come back.
Max sneaked out of the room and went down the hallway, quietly hopeful. If dad was back, then mom was back, after all! The young child didn't leap at the occasion just yet, though. What if it was a friend or something? But the boots… were proof on their own. And then they spoke.
She set herself down at her usual place: the end of a little hallway from the entryway, giving access to the rest of the apartment. Walking into that little hallway led to a bigger one, with the guest rooms she and her brother were occupying at one end of it and the bathroom at the other. Max was standing in the middle of it and spectated over the entryway and a good portion of the living and dining room that way.
"… Roger? It's quite like you to head back with no warning in the dead of night!" It was worded like a complaint, but Norma seemed happier than she'd been in weeks. "You're soaking wet! Is there still even a desert to be found outside?"
"I guess it's the part where you both fetch your kids and head out?" Asked Doug, sounding hopeful. Like Norma, it was a much different tone from before.
Her father's voice was weak and strained, but it didn't surprise Max as much as what he had to say next. "Both?" He snarled. Something dropped to the floor, and a very, very tiny peek into the entryway revealed to the young girl that her father had discarded his wet coat. To her horror, it and his shirt were soaking wet and covered in holes that definitely weren't there before. The others looked like they wanted to converse further, but he immediately headed for their living room and sat down on a chair with a tired sigh. Norma and Doug followed him like despondent lackeys.
"Yeah, both. Bonnie and you," Doug said, his voice firm, no doubt feeling threatened in his position as the Man of the house by Roger's mere presence. "Get your little runts and leave."
"… We'll wake them up," Norma offered, picking up the coat. To avoid being seen, Max retired a little deeper into the hall while doing so, but it took her three mere seconds before she pulled her head back out again. Norma's decision to off-handedly toss the wet coat on a wooden chair somewhere else before walking into the living room did make it easy for Max to sneak by too. "But knowing your daughter, she's probably still awake! She does take a lot from you, you know?" the older woman giggled but awkwardly stopped after noticing that Roger wasn't even reacting to her rumor.
Her dad was despondent in his chair with his hands joined together over his knees. She'd never seen him like this before. He's had his moments of being tired or perhaps a little upset, but he still insisted on keeping a solid posture when it happened. He'd never be slumped over as he was right now, with his hat masking both his face and expression. But the holes in his white shirt told her everything else she needed to know. There was also dry red liquid over it, and she had to guess it was pretty bad because the last time she saw "blood," he had cut himself and said some unique words really, really loudly. He was like that, and apparently, Doug didn't know.
"… No," he had said, and Max crawled in a little bit closer because his voice was barely louder than a whisper. "Keep them sleepy. I'm going to go home and clean it up for them. I'll show up tomorrow early in the morning to tell them the news myself and will use this opportunity to give you the rest of the money. Thanks a lot for helping me out with the kids, but there's a lot of things I'm going to have to deal with for the rest of the night, and I do not have the strength to tell them-"
Doug walked closer to Roger, cutting him off mid-speech, and stood over his slumped form in the seat. He already was about his size when they were both standing up, and his work at the factory gifted him with a decent amount of muscle mass. Next to him, the tired Roger looked feeble and pathetic, and the bald man saw it as an invitation to divulge his threat. "I'm tired of having to wake up your brats and feed them, and tend to their needs and bring them to school, Roger. I could've kept on going a little while longer, but with you around, they've got no reasons to stick around any longer. Back me up here, Norma!" Max winced at his words. Did he genuinely think that little of them? He got a little bit upset at times, but she'd never imagined he wanted them gone that badly. He always smiled when they asked him questions, and they'd let him play with his beard for minutes at times!
But more upsetting than Doug's "betrayal" for his little "niece" was Norma's seeming agreement with her husband's words. However, the auburn-haired woman looked a little bit conflicted before delivering her next bit of hindsight. Roger, in the middle of it all, was tightening his grasp on his legs. And perhaps they didn't get the hint, but she did and put her hands over her ears in anticipation of some yelling. From that distance alone, she could also see that his knuckles were white from the strain. And the patchwork on his pants was coming apart at the seams, from the sheer force he was exerting on it!
"They're sleeping in the guest rooms, and we haven't had friends come over for a while now because of that. They're good kids, Max's a bit disobedient but adorable, and Conrad is a quiet kid, but we'd like you to get them out by the hour. If you want, we can wake them up, gather them here, you'll tell them what happened to their mom, we gather up their clothes or toothbrushes, and you all head home," Doug glared at his wife, who could only shrug back. "It's the least we can do, Doug. They're children! It'd be cold to kick them out like that, even without the… news."
Her husband sighed and grasped Roger by the collar of his shirt, meaning to lift him up off the chair. "He's got caps. There'll be another dumb broad who will try her luck with a Doleetle, now get your ass-" In a flash, her dad rose from his chair to glare at Doug. The bigger man's composure melted away in an instant, and he instantly let go of him, though he attempted to hold the ground he'd gained on her progenitor beforehand. "D-don't think you can intimidate me like you did back at the village, Roger!" There was tense silence, and he relinquished his meager acquisitions, taking several steps backward before outright lowering himself to his knees.
"Let them have one last night of peaceful sleep," Roger commanded, motioning to Norma as well. Exhausted as he was, his anger gave him more presence than Norma or Doug combined. It was a bit upsetting to watch and fascinating for the young Max, how effortlessly her father could get the attention of a whole room upon himself. "It's the last night of their old lives. Let them have their dreams for the remaining hours of darkness. All you need to do tomorrow is go through the usual morning routine and tell them I'm coming, alright? I'll give you the rest of the suitcase before lunch, and I'll pick them up. You're free to use the money however you like, but I'm sure you're going to blow it on your little sins before the end of the month," he gave Doug a contemptuous glare and began walking out of the room towards the entrance. While his voice could intimidate a whole platoon of rangers into dropping their weapons and leaving, his exhaustion was nonetheless reflected in his walking. He walked with a slight limp, now, and it only grew more and more noticeable as he unwittingly stepped closer to Max's location. "… If Max or Conrad complains once about either of you, I'm coming back for you. And believe me, traveling all the way to Zion and beyond will give you a lot of insight into the fucked-up tortures that these barbarians get up to. It's not too hard to replicate them, got it?"
"Got it!" Norma and Doug replied in perfect unison. Satisfied, Roger got his hand on the doorknob to leave, and Max decided that she couldn't wait for another day before meeting up with him again.
"Daddy!" She yelled, running over from her hiding spot. Snapped out of whatever dark thoughts he had on his mind at the moment, her father turned to her with a joyous, if tired, expression on his face and snatched his daughter into his arms. Max giggled at that: How good it felt to be in his arms again!
She could hear Norma in the very back. "Maxine!"
Roger gave a proud laugh. "Max! It's been a little while, my little treasure!" he said, using his left arm to support his daughter's back and his right one to tickle her right below the arm. She didn't quite laugh as she should have; Her father's face was, to put it plainly, a mess. His eyes had bags under them big enough for the three-year-old to fit her whole hand unto now. And his face was covered in grey facial hair, clumsily hiding several new scars and marks underneath the mass. Putting her hands all over them revealed to Max that some of the injuries were fresh enough to still leave a small quantity of blood on her palms. The young girl pulled back, staring at the liquid, and absent-mindedly smeared her hand against her father's shirt to get rid of it.
He gave her a sad look, enhanced by his bloodshot eyes. "I… I got into a fight with a bunch of nasty naked savages from the East. They're really silly people who fight with spears and have clothes made out of feathers!" he moved to put her down, but Max held tight unto his calluses-covered hands. Roger did not try to get her off: Instead, he stared at her some more before pulling her much closer in for a hug. He was always quite physical in his displays of affections with his loved ones, but this particular embrace had an earnest aspect that troubled the young Doleetle. That or she could hear him sobbing over her shoulder. And that was surprising because her dad taught her that crying is for "very stupid kids" before. This particular display of emotions worried Max much more than anything else said in the previous discussions between the adults… but what could she do? She was but a child, and these were adult matters far beyond her ability as a kid to comprehend, let alone solve.
But she did give it a shot by wrapping her tiny arms around her dad's neck and hugging tight to try and comfort him. It worked for a solid five seconds before Rogers began crying again, a bit louder this time. Was Max doing it wrong? Her friends at school never complained when she did it, even if Andrew sometimes said that she did it too hard. She was about to ask if she was hugging her dad too hard, but then he took her in his arms again and stood up.
"Max! Your mommy is… she's fine," Father and daughter smiled alike, and he rubbed the tip of his much bigger nose against hers. "I got her back! But she's very tired. So I couldn't bring her up! And it may be a bit overwhelming to take care of you three for the night, right? Especially you, my little treasure! It can be hard for the both of us to keep track of you at night, some alone… I've got no chance!" to prove his point further, Max grabbed at her dad's shoulder-length hair and pulled on it as hard as she could, giggling along. "So, Max! Could you be a dear and go to sleep? I'll get you and Conrad first thing tomorrow, but there's still stuff I need to attend to first! You understand, right?"
Max's smile dropped into a frown. As a succinct answer, she pointed at the wounds on his face. "… But you're hurt!" she said, alarmed.
"I may be… but at least you and your mother aren't, and that's what matters to me," like his daughter, he also got a bit more severe at that part. "I'll always protect you three, alright? If you want to help me, you should go to bed!" His frown once more made way for a cocky smirk, and he lightly tapped his daughter on the forehead. When she felt something wet upon it, he very briefly panicked and proceeded to wipe it with the fabric on his shirt. "You might get grumpy when you wake up otherwise!"
Max laughed. "I'll go to sleep then! See you and mommy tomorrow, daddy!" The young girl spun on her heel and cheerfully walked out of the room and back to her bed, without Roger needing to check on her. She could hear him sigh wearily in the entryway before apparently turning to address the others.
"That's called fucking parenting if you're curious," he addressed them with the warmth gone from his voice. "We do as we said. If I hear a single complaint from my kids regarding either of you, you'll hear from me. And I can kick your asses with a limp at any time if you're curious."
"No need to be so violent, Roger…." Norma chided in. Clothes ruffled as he apparently began to put on his coat again. "We'll take care of them just fine… how the hell did you make it here with all those injuries? You should've seen a doctor."
"I took the shortcuts. The guys in uniforms don't patrol around these parts," he answered her succinctly. "But if you're worried about these little scratches on me, know that you'll be getting much nastier ones if I hear a single complaint from Max or Conrad after picking them up."
Doug sighed tiredly, missing his earlier defiance. "Roger, we're in the core of the Republic. It's civilization. Death threats and tough guy shits aren't accepted."
Her dad huffed, and the door creaked open. "You'll forgive me for forgetting what civilization is after dwelling amongst these fucking tribals for so long!" It slammed, and the conversation ended abruptly: Immediately after his departure, both Norma and Doug put out the lights before heading back into their bedroom on the right side of the apartment. They had to be shaken, and Max could get them, even if she found it rather unpleasant to realize how much Doug loathed her in secret. Three-year-old or not, that kind of betrayal stung! But Max tried not to think about it on her bed. She thought happy things: Her dad was back, so was mom, they'd be leaving Norma and Doug soon, and life would begin again as usual. The young child repeated in her head as much as she could to better drown out the negativity building up from within and was rewarded for her efforts after ten long minutes of struggle as her darker ideas scurried back to another corner of her mind.
But they didn't because she was that good at convincing herself, oh no! Max had merely been distracted by something so much more important than her inner turmoils. As said earlier, her room made it easy to hear the sounds in the staircases. So she could listen to her father slowly walk it down to head home… and sob, after one minute of relative silence. He wasn't a loud man when it came to crying. He has a pride to maintain and tend to. Still, she'd heard enough lament in her very young life by now to understand that Roger was sobbing in the staircase. He was sad and only a few meters away from his daughter technically, and yet she could do nothing to help him out against the sadness gripping him.
It was the realization she'd needed. Years before actually accepting that fact, Max got in her the idea that her mother was gone for good. Once more: What could the young girl do? It was an unusual situation for anyone to deal with, let alone a child of her age. She thought, pondered, and imagined, perhaps too much for a child, and sleep ambushed her after her father's sobs went silent.
…
The next day, the kids were woken up, dressed, fed, and pointedly didn't get to go to school this day, having been announced that their dad was back and coming to pick them up. Conrad didn't quite get it but was happy about not having to go to school. Max meanwhile pretended that she didn't see what had happened yesterday night and quietly bid her time awaiting him. Or she thought she did, but she accidentally told her younger brother that their dad was there yesterday, only to fumble on her statements each time. Being the little bundle of naïve sunshine that he was, he didn't get it and reacted to his dad's return with unabashed joy, running into his arms outright like his sister did.
Roger grabbed his son with one arm, used the other to hand a wallet to Norma and Doug, and then swept Max off the ground with it as well to hug them both. He looked much cleaner than before, but his fatigue from the night back was still here and even worse than before. But he didn't see fit to complain about it. He grabbed his children's stuff, neatly put it all into a bag, put Conrad on his shoulders, and had him hold tight to his neck, and then he and Max both walked out of the apartment in a hurry. She didn't even salute Norma and Doug, their "betrayal" still fresh in her mind, and instead went back home.
After returning to their apartment, he sat them down on a couch and knelt in front of his kids, looking like he meant to say something. But he didn't, and for several seconds at that. His lips at times, but they'd be kept shut. Tears were building up over his half-lidded eyes to the gradual concern of the children.
"… Your mom's okay!" he said, widening his arms and standing up with a big goofy smile. "But she's very tired after the trek! So she's going to rest at a nearby hospital. It's a place where a lot of nice people will be looking out for her! And we'll get to visit her soon. Let's go to the park!" roger added hurriedly. Max and Conrad alike lightened up at that. It'd be the park with the statue of the big man on it, and not the tiny boring park near Norma and Doug!
"Go!" Conrad cooed, and Max repeated. And for the remainder of that day, their mother's status became secondary for the two children. The second day, their father slept for twenty-four hours straight and couldn't answer any questions (he'd left both with a lot of food and water, and the energy he'd regained from his nap was promptly well-spent on cleaning up the living room, left exposed to the wrath of children as young as they were clumsy). The third, they returned to school.
But soon, Conrad and Max noticed that their mother wasn't returning. Roger said a "one-week check-up," which stretched for a month, and then two. And then it became a different story because their mother had friends to visit first, and so forth. He'd maybe build up the courage to try and tell them that she was gone, at times, but Roger would always end up relenting beforehand. In hindsight, spilling the beans much earlier would have been preferable for Max. Was he aware of how much it had hurt her? To know that her mother would rather see these "friends" before going back to her family?
It didn't take long at all for the young Doleetle to figure out that the story was, as they'd put it up north, brahmin crap. But she tried to believe in it day by day! It's what made it worse for her. To, at such a young age, know that her male progenitor was hiding something from her. Mom wasn't coming back. He knew it, she knew it, and only Conrad, a blissful one-year-old, was utterly unaware of their plight.
He was still in an old world of his own, separated from the anxiety and sadness already dawning on Max. He'd go to kindergarten to play with toys and learn colors and return home to play with toys some more or go to one of his classmates' homes when he was feeling a bit bored of his sister. It was simple yet, from Max's point of view, outright idyllic. In that little bubble of his, Conrad couldn't worry about his mother's absence. Because these matters went over his head, and he'd buy everything his dad would say to him. But his older sister was already old enough to have been pulled out of her little bubble, and that made her jealous of him.
The malice that only children could ever wield compelled Max to grasp him by the shoulders and tell him that mummy had left. To almost… spite him and his joy and pull him into her own world. Of course, Max refrained from her little devious schemes when she realized that it'd meant hurting her dear little brother, and she'd run up to hug him right after realizing this, but the thought was there.
And it wasn't only with Conrad: School had become a taxing experience because all the kids here had their moms to pick them up at the end when they weren't discussing their merits. And she couldn't tough it out and sit in the back to wait the day out too. The longer Bonnie was absent, the more "rumors" spread. Of her father, his origins not as a citizen of the Republic but a common Wastelander in one of those dead-end towns in the desert, his anger issues with others, and, lastly, miss Bonnie going missing shortly before the sudden absence of mister Roger. Doug must have had talked with the authorities at a point because the young girl would see people in suits or brown coats hang around the entrance of their building. Each time her dad would put his hands over her ears and tell them to fill their cavities with sharp objects.
She tried not to pay attention to them. Adult problems for adults to deal with. He would tell her to be very careful with leaving the school, however... No more sleepovers: He'd be here all the time to pick her up, and she wasn't to go without him at all. This fended them off his daughter for a little while, but not forever.
"Maxine," mister Krapt had walked over to her, looking somewhat worried for his young pupil. He knelt down next to her wooden desk and glanced around the room, glaring at those, like Andrew, who tried to eavesdrop on the story. A (small) upside to the matter at school is that Krapt took her side more often. He'd never glare, never act dismissive, and he'd always ask to tell him if she was feeling alright today or not. Oh, he wasn't a bad teacher, but he had all the affability of a brick wall at his best. "There's a young man who wants to ask you questions over… matters regarding your parents. But he's going to wait outside. Ask to go to the toilet sometimes during class, and I'll say yes, and you'll leave. He'll be there to ask you one or two questions, and you'll be back in, alright?"
She didn't get it but agreed anyway and drew the park with the giant statue in it in the meantime. Once satisfied, Max held her hand up. "Mister Krapt! I want to go to the toilets!" and promptly set out for her "journey" since she knew that he'd answer her question with a yes. Quite a few classmates stopped mid-drawing to witness her seemingly defying the dreaded . She was sure in hindsight that she'd done the exact opposite of what he wanted to accomplish with the maneuver. Still, she was out of the room and into the school's hall regardless. As promised, a young man was waiting for her in front of the room next door. Upon noticing her, he quietly approached the young Max.
"Hey, Maxine," he whispered to her, getting down to one knee to better stand on her level. "I'm sorry about disrupting your drawing session, but I need your help to find your mum, would you like to help with that?" he didn't look like the other persons in suits: he was wearing a plain white shirt with dark pants, no hat to hide his brown hair and no sunglasses. He didn't look creepy, so she trusted him and took his hand when he offered it. They both walked into the next room, this one emptied, and he very carefully sat her down behind one of the countless wooden desks in the room before fetching a chair for himself. He sat down, realized that it was too small for him, got up to get the teacher's chair for himself, and sat down on that. "So, Maxine… Do you mind if I call you Max?"
The young child smiled slightly. "People call me Max a looott, so I'm fine with that."
"It's a good name, isn't it? Mine's Geoff. It doesn't sound as cool!" He fumbled into his pocket to pull out a card with his face and his name on it as proof. It was for her and Mister Brand, who was standing at the door watching the process. He was a harsh man, like Krapt, but he was big and tough, so she knew that he'd stop Geoff if he turned out to be evil.
"Alright, Max..." he proceeded to put the ID card back in his pocket, and from the other pocket, pulled out a notebook and pen. "I'm going to ask you some questions. There's no hurry. Feel free to pick your time, alright?" she gave him a slight nod but began to grip her leg in anticipation. It didn't feel natural. "… Say, what was the relationship between your mother and your father before she took a hike out of Shady Sands?"
Max tilted her head. "What's a hike?"
He laughed in an embarrassed manner, the one Andrew did when his mother hugged him in front of everyone, els-and now she was back to feeling bad! "It's huh… a long walk. It means taking a very long walk!"
"… Oh, huh…" Max thought back to her mother, Bonnie Doleetle. Loving, yet distant with the neighbors, co-workers, and even children at times. She was calm, unlike Roger, maybe too quiet at times. When the "toy accident" happened, the young girl remembered her mother not being that upset. Instead, she calmly suggested her daughter write the offender a letter to ask him if he took any pleasure out of the act, and promised that she'd write his parents one as well, to ask them to better educate him. And when her husband went ahead with his plot to humiliate the bully, she had her husband and daughter write an apology letter to him. He actually listened to her with nary a complaint. It wasn't that she disliked violence. No, she cleaned and maintained a grown-up thing, a "gun," very often. But she thought that in more civilized lands, violence should not beget violence.
She had those books she'd sometimes read to her daughter, even if she hardly understood them. They spoke of a big Father, with the human race as his progeny, and how his influence impacted the world all around him. Max could think of all that the big Father had to be pretty crappy if he let the world be like that! But she never spoke of it because her mother smiled a lot, reading these stories and teaching them their meanings. While the young Doleetle never truly understood them, she nonetheless appreciated the bonding times it'd offer with her mother.
But near the "end," her Father began to dislike that. At first, they kept it small. Sometimes, while eating or playing, dad would say something, and mom would reply with unusual quickness. Or she'd be the one speaking, and he'd talk back, without the usual warmth in it.
"Mom and dad had disputes… we heard them yell," Geoff winced in empathy but didn't stop her. "… They were a bit angry with one another and and… sometimes, huh, sometimes we went to the food place outside."
"Did your father ever get… well, would he sometimes make a threatening gesture or?" She frowned, not understanding what he meant until he punched the air. Her eyes widened in horror.
"No," she mumbled, repeating it over fifteen times in a row before shaking her head again. "They'd still kiss after…. Huh… but one day, they had a huge dispute while we were at school. And dad slept on the couch!" Max smiled, but the memory wasn't too funny. When their dad made food, unusual in itself, he took the fourth plate meant for mom, yelled at her, and threw the plate at the door to the bedroom door before sitting down to eat in absolute silence. She knew mom was in there because she answered back and told him he was… a complicated word, but neither seemed to care about what their kids would think of this.
Max's smile dropped, and she focused intently to get the words out, a problematic fact for a three years old such as her. "… dad slept on the couch the whole night, and she left during that time. I missed school that day because she wasn't there to wake me or Conrad up, and dad did. He told us to stay put and left… and when he came back, he told us we were going to auntie Norma and uncle Doug and left to go find Mom…." Geoff began to furiously write on his little yellow paper at that. "He looked terrified when he woke us up and was really panicked… I didn't get what was going on, so I hugged Conrad until he came back." Max added, looking to absolve her Father of any potential sin.
"I understand, that's a shocking thing to wake up to, Max!" he concluded his writing frenzy by putting down the paper. "That seems to line up with what Roger described of the situation. Is there anything else you remember? Anything helps in finding your mother."
Max began to think as hard as her tiny brain could, desperate to find evidence that would get her mom back. "I… I looked for her room while dad was gone though… her big books on the big dad in the sky-"the inspector blinked a little at that. "and the grown-up thing was gone, mom kept it in a little locked box, and it was open and empty. And later… after dad returned, the books are back, and the little box is closed again."
More of that scribbling. The sound of the pen on the paper irritated Max slightly. "You're a bit of a young detective Max, huh?" he smiled, and she imitated him right back. "Well, I've had the answers I was looking for thank to you, at any rate. I'm going to have to watch my back when you're all grown-up. You're going to be the best detective in town!"
"Will you get me my mom back?" Max asked, dispensing with the pleasantries. Geoff's smile died down instantly, and he lightly fumbled with his little notebook, awkwardly glancing back and forth at the young girl and Mister Brand.
"We will, Max. And we'll help your dad with it too. But for now, stick to making pretty drawings, alright? It's boring adult things. You're young, go do funny children things, hm-hm? You're going to miss those years one day." Mister Brand rolled his eyes, and the young man shrugged. The young child did as agreed, intending to return to her drawings and (briefly) forget about today's events. Once she was out of the room, the supervisor closed the door to discuss further with Geoff. Would he be okay in there? Mister Brand was pretty scary for sure. The urge to go back in and ask him to go easy on the young man prompted Max to stop and stare in silent contemplation. Should she go back in and help him?
"Ewwww, you didn't go to the toilets to pee!" Max turned around to spot the ever-so-smug Andrew, standing just outside the room in the hall. He was staring at her in distaste and squinting his eyes hard at her, the way adults sometimes did when one of the children was hiding something. "It's gross! Mister Krapt said I should walk you back to the class, but I don't want to! You're gross!"
"I didn't need to go to the toilets because I didn't want to pee! You're dumb!" she defended herself before realizing that she spoiled the big secret thing to Andrew! Growing coy, the toddler huddled a bit closer to her classmate and brought her lips to his ear. "Now…" she didn't even attempt to whisper. "You can't say you heard this or… or… or mister Keoff will kidnap your family!"
"Eww, cooties!" Andrew walked back and fell on his rear, inadvertently giving Max the upper hand in their debate. Seizing the opportunity now that her rival was down, the brown-haired child pointed at him.
"I'll tell your mum that you fell if you tell everyone that I do… secret things!" Andrew grimaced at the thought and got up in a huff, looking for payback. Even at his young age, he was already a bit of a weasel (an extinct, devious animal). He didn't struggle much finding out an insult. With a nasty little smirk, he pointed at his classmate.
"Well, at least I have a mum you get to tell that to!" The words hit Max harder than absolutely anything else he could have said, and she froze in shock, almost falling to the ground. The young boy, to his credit, realized he'd hit a nerve and hurried over to her. Once there, he stopped in the middle of his attempt at recomforting her, not being too sure on how to do it, and leaned in for a hug, which she accepted, tempted as she was to refuse for what he had just said to her. "I'm sorry…."
"Don't worry, the nice man will find her!" They pulled out from the hug. Max patted him on the head a few times to show him that she was okay now. "He told me I helped him with it!"
"Hm-hm!" Andrew nodded, glad but focused on something else. "Mom told me that she wanted to know… do you want to go to go see her after we're done at class because she said that she misses you and she's worried about the people in coats asking questions about your dad and one day a lot of them were gathered at your place, so she's worried!"
Andrea was nice. Andrew wasn't a lot of the time, but his parents were kind. "Yeah! She'll bake me a cake again!" The young boy glanced at Max, envy in his eyes.
"She never makes me cake when I ask her!" he bemoaned. Max laughed, and the two toddlers awkwardly walked back to their classroom.
…
"… I'd always ask him what truly happened to mom because he had to know, right? But each time, it was a different story," Max continued on, fiddling with the helmet on her laps. "When he got a bit too drunk, ten years ago, he started saying that she'd left on her own because of us, and I could believe him, you know? She couldn't have been kidnapped in the heart of the Republic, her belongings were gone, and nobody in the building heard anything too suspicious. My own mother decided to walk out on her family, just like that," Max raised her left arm and swiped it to the side, like a blade. "Phew!" Arcade nodded, signifying that he got her meaning.
"Far as I can tell, that's a pretty cold-blooded thing to do to a child. Telling them, it's their fault for the departure of another parent..." Arcade said after a moment of hesitation. Max hardly objected, though her expression was unreadable. He did note these little details she mentioned, like those bibles on her. They had to be, with these stories of a heavenly father above. Max pursed her lips before he could interject further, so Arcade let her know she was good to go with a nod.
"It's disconcerting to have almost no memories of your mother, you know? The sound of her voice, the little intricacies on her face, her personality even… I'm beginning to forget it, and I'll forget it all later on. And the worst part is that at least I've got a picture of her and descriptions by her past friends or dad when he's in a good mood," Max paused to look at the room and set her elbow on the arm of her wooden chair. She then tapped her finger against her left cheek in quiet ponderation. "Mom didn't borrow a thing. I don't think she'd recognize either Conrad or I if we met; by that point, I don't think we'd even recognize her. I've almost got no memories of her! Conrad… he doesn't even have any! His own mother, and he knows her just as a picture!" growing more and more incensed by the minute, Max uncrossed her legs and began sitting up. "Do you imagine that?! Not being given a shit about by your own mom? Abandoning your own daughter to prowl the irradiated Wasteland? FUCK!" With strength bestowed by anger, the brunette violently threw her helmet in one of the corners of the room. By some miracle, it did not violently embed into the wall but merely bounced off it.
"Max, calm down." the blond doctor got up, the mere act somewhat placating Max. She began to sit down again, and so did he, before a flash of anger got the young woman to cancel the process and sit straight back up again.
"Can you imagine your alcoholic dad being right on something like that? I thought he meant to spite me at the time, but he was warning me in hindsight! Because nobody gives a shit about…." As quickly as it ignited, Max's fire vanished, and the young soldier was left in an uncomfortable situation, standing over Arcade with her fist raised overhead like she was about to hit him. Before any guard could wander in, Max sat back up and brought her index to her lips, hoping to silence Arcade that way.
"… I don't think too many people care about me," she admitted, with one of her sheepish smiles. "Mom was just the beginning on that, and so did Dad, eventually."
"It's not my position to judge, Max, but I would disagree on that. Would we be here, sitting (and sometimes standing, I'll note) in this very room if I didn't care?" he gave a broad sweep of the arm around the room as if reminding Max of its existence. "Or if Dr. Usanagi didn't care? Or that woman, Veronica?" It can be hazardous to think themselves unloved."
"I can comprehend you somewhat, Max, but there are people who care about you and your well-being. Try to think of them, alright?"
"Well, my brother comes to mind…." Max half-lied, even if the clock indicated that such a topic would be for another life. "Nolan is nice to me too. Hector is kinda jumpy, erm… I don't… I always stuck by Emma, you know? Now that she's gone… It's hard for me to make new friendships because what'll happen if they... well…" the damn golf club sails through the air and smash her friend's head into a gory mess in front of Max's eyes, again.
"It's entirely understandable to be wary of that, Max," Arcade's voice yanked Nephi and his victim out of her mind, something for which she expressed gratitude. "… But what I can say about it is that you'll further isolate yourself if you think that. If you want me to be blunt?" he raised an eyebrow, and she agreed with a quick nod. "The Wasteland is dangerous. You're bound to see a lot of people die, and not all of them will be bad guys. Bonding with someone in the Mojave… it means knowing that it could be severed at any point, any day because one of you will turn the wrong corner or say the wrong thing. I'm confident we Followers will turn things around, but for now, we've got to make the best out of a bad situation." the blond man stopped mid-speech to plot it out and glanced at Max. "Apologies. I'm not exactly the Followers PR guy."
"That's fine. Take your time!" Max used this little bit of pause to get up and pick her helmet up from the ground. Once safe in her hands, she checked it for any potential damage, knowing that it'd be on her pay. After seeing that it was okay, she patted it with her right hand before moving to sit back on her chair.
"… But if we refuse to make friendships, or meet people, or even trust them, then we'll lead quite a sad life, won't we? Besides the boons of cooperation, it's healthy for the mind and body to have companions to fall upon when things get rough." Arcade concluded.
"That's true, but Emma… I feel like I'd be betraying her if I form another strong friendship, you know?" the Follower wrote that on his little notebook. Max, for a time, wondered if he was putting something like "crazy, crazy, crazy" on it. "She cared about me, she taught me to shoot, to survive, to survive in fights, I… Without her, I feel lost, but I can't discard her because she's dead, right? I'm sorry, I probably sound crazy…."
There's a lot of focus on Emma in Max's psychology. Arcade wondered if Max was perhaps substituting "Bonnie" and the fallen soldier in her mind. And, while he wouldn't say it yet while the "wounds" were fresh, he wasn't too sure about Emma's influence being all that positive yet.
"You don't, but consider that she wouldn't want you to be stuck on her. I'm sure she'd like you to move on; never forget that. If you really need to, you could always find a way to say goodbye to her the way you would've wanted to. It'll be bittersweet, but you may be more in a mindset to move on." Max thought of his words and imagined what Emma would be saying, right here, right now, if she was a ghost standing in this very room…
She'd probably tell her to just run to Nolan, right now, or another figure like that. Or maybe she wouldn't since she always was a mysterious person. But the private Varzi she knew… she'd tell her to move on. Because she cared about her, right?
Maxxie, you're this close to me coming down here again to kick your ass! Quit moping and find a new friend prompto!
The trooper smiled. It was slight but genuine. "… Thanks, I… Well, if I'm honest, I've still got a talk to talk to you about. With my family and…."
"Trauma like yours isn't defeated too easily, but you made the first steps," he reassured her, quickly brushing off her budding stress. "To be blunt, it'll be a long process. But understanding any past trauma or issue will be key to fighting it. Needless to say, we're probably going to be meeting each other a lot in the forthcoming weeks, so… try not to be bored to tears during the session, hm?" Max giggled. Like her previous smile, it didn't feel like an attempt at one to reassure.
"We'll be meeting each other in a week, same day, same schedule?" she asked. The clock was almost up: how bizarre! It felt like she'd spent only minutes in here.
"I can't promise I'll be here in a week, but I do have something of a counter-offer," he got up from his chair to stretch his arms. "I've noticed the problem of getting back to the camp has been slightly stressful on you. I can escort you back to McCarran. I'm unathletic, after all, so the odds are that the raiders will catch me if we happen to be ambushed."
"N-no, I'd fight to save you," the soldier retorted immediately before grasping his immediate sarcasm. Blushing slightly at her mistake, she continued on. "O-oh! Well, that's very kind of you, but don't you hate the NCR? And McCarran is…"
"I would not say I… hate the Republic. I'd use that word for the murderous army of rapists farther east, in fact." He jerked his thumb in that direction and then crossed his arms over his chest. "I am not impressed or particularly enamored with its policy of annexing peaceful settlements or villages, though. And I'm especially not fond of them dumping taxes on these towns, but not soldiers or supplies when raiders or slavers start to get menacing. They had good ideas, once, but their imperialistic habits won over, and now they're throwing soldiers at problems until they go away. And when they do, instead of consolidating, they expand even further, into more problems to throw soldiers at, et sic Sequitur."
Max let him finish but struggled with the urge to somehow get Arcade to meet up with Conrad. Well, she wouldn't want to be here for their little dumping on the Republic's army, though. Without the sacrifice of privates like her, the Followers wouldn't even be able to operate in the region with all these crazed legionaries and Fiends! But he'd helped her, so she didn't want to seem rude by getting upset.
"… So I'd like to see it for myself if you don't mind. Oh, I'm not going to aggressively interview officers and superiors!" I'd just like to see the NCR's organization for myself and the way they think. I could always make myself useful to the infirmary, and we'll have more sessions directly in the base, does that sound convenient?" He held his hand out, and she shook it, accepting the offer.
"Deal! I'm going to show you that we're here to help the Mojave and not conquer it, promises! But before we go…" she smiled sheepishly. "Do you mind if I buy a little something here? I don't think that I need to pay for the therapy, but this place deserves to have a lot of caps thrown at it!"
"Knock yourself out, Max!" Arcade walked out of the room and headed to the right, perhaps to consult Usanagi on leaving matters. On the way out, he peeked his head out at her. "… Metaphorically."
With a giggle, the brunette escaped the room to reach the reception. Acting fast, she took some caps tied to a string and laid them down the wooden desk. That bald guy glared at the money, then her. "I'd like a Stimpak, please!" the receptionist acknowledged the order and opened a little safe in her side of the desk to grab one of them, leaving the guard to stare contemptuously at the soldier.
"You look healthy." he scowled.
Max prepared to retort, but then a thought slipped into her mind. With a smirk that'd make Andrew reel, she slowly moved in to swipe the money off the desk. "You're right. I guess I'll use that money to buy myself more ammo to shoot at folks with then." the tattoed man moved in to acquire the caps before Max could take it back with an irritated sigh, prompting the Shady to smile at him. The clerk then returned with the Stimpak and put it on the desk for Max to grab.
"Keep the change," the soldier pulled her sleeve on her left arm, took the needle in, and injected the regenerative soup directly into her body. She'd never been conscious when they gave her on. Thus it was her first time experiencing the regenerative process for herself. And what process! Pain that she never even knew was there faded away instantly. Most importantly, the pain that she knew was there, on her throat or chest, melted away, the remaining damage mended away in seconds when it should've taken days to go away completely.
It felt good; how could you not get addicted to the stuff?
"You, erm, looked healthy, miss." the clerk said timidly.
"… Not really, but I'm all good now. I…" Max glanced at the locker with her weapons inside and smiled. "… I gotta be at my best. I've got a friend to say goodbye to."
…
Witnesses reports of the sighting of a group of Legionaries prowling around Outer Vegas, though the NCR affirms that no agent of Caesar could make it so far within their territory.
"I believed that all Legionaries fought with spears, but those guys had carbines and enormous hammers on them. What the fuck!" Decries a witness.
Could this be Caesar's elite assassins, sent to kill those who wronged the Legion? Well I certainly wouldn't want to be their target! And I doubt that our journalists will be getting close enough for an interview! Our intrepid listeners should be careful to steer clear of them. And as for their target, if you happen to be listening to the radio, I would recommend you hide in one of these fancy Vaults you can find all across the Mojave. Those things withstood the apocalypse, so what are the odds for you, huh?
Or you may be in one of these, waiting it out! In which case, I'll be playing a little song for you to wait it out.
Ladies and Gentlemen: "Sit and Dream."
…
First off, thanks a lot for the reviews RedShirt! I'm glad I kind of turned around on your opinion. I was looking forward to how you'd react to some events in story and your investment in it warms my heart! I'll definitely retool the first chapters someday!
How are you guys? I've been seeing movies last week, including "Last Night in Soho". The main actress is who I'd pick if I had a headcanon voice for Max. Would you agree? It's a good film by the way. I love myself some horror. You might see that down the line with the Courier!
There'll be more to Max's family down the line. Also I was hoping that the mystery around her mother would be tighter, but I guess I may have played my hand too much at the whole foreshadowing bit. Perhaps I've been influenced by the "Tale of Courier Six" fic? I hope you guys will like this chapter though. It's very key to Max. I'll admit I'm embarrassed at writing dialogue for Arcade, he's a very well-written character, so I'm hoping you guys will find him faithful.
Next up, Wayne! Andrew! And a canon character! I guess you know who.
See ya later, alligator!