The vault was quiet; an uneasy silence had fallen like the eye of a storm. Over the last while, since the vault was twice forced opened to allow both the Doc and Rosalinn to leave, and since the deaths of Jonas and so many others at the hands of security, there had been civil unrest. An internal war had been broiling under the surface for weeks; many older ones blaming the Lawrence family on the surface, but that was only because many were too afraid to point fingers at the real evil – the Overseer. The youngers, though many still disliked Rosalinn, they hated the dystopian hell they'd been thrown into thanks to the Overseer's tyranny. Most had started to hang out together, meeting in secret, in blind spots and parts of the vault with little or no traffic, just to get some semblance of togetherness with like-minded people.

For the first time in ages Butch had been able to get a shred of peace long enough to sleep; not that he inherently needed it, but he supposed everyone had a wall to hit where chaos was concerned, and he'd hit it. His rest was as broken as their vault, ending only a few hours later with him almost jumping out of bed with a start, a cry out. He was sweating bullets, his sheets soaked and his skin and scalp cold with moisture. He'd dreamed he'd been shot by Officer Mack, and that he had turned his gun on Rosalinn. The man gripped his damp tank top with a single fist, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. He swung his legs out of bed and reached for his jacket to pull out the only thing that was giving him any comfort.
Rosalinn's letter slid out of the inner pocket and his stomach churned as he gazed at his name in her writing. He tugged the soft paper from inside the envelope and reread her words, his eyes falling on the part that always caught his attention the longest.

"This is crazy.

I love you, Butch Deloria.

I think I have for a long time."

He could hear her voice saying it, he'd imagined it so often. It rang in his ears in every dream he had of her leaving the vault, or of one of the more civil times between them.
A noise from his mother's room stirred him from his thoughts and he blinked before looking down at the letter once more. He'd been crumpling it in his hands without realizing it, and now it was wrinkled, and starting to tear at the top. Butch panicked and smoothed it out as much as he could, then taped the tear and slipped it back into its envelope and into his jacket, cursing himself inwardly. It annoyed him that she had gotten under his skin to this degree, but he wouldn't deny it anymore, to himself at least.
He loved her - and it hurt.

But there were more immediate things to think about. Like how the hell he was going to bring Wally back to the gang, and moreover; what were they going to do about the vault?
The elder folks were content to outcast their own kids if they couldn't control them - many had started to take shelter in each other's houses, sometimes Butch's if his mother had passed out soon enough. She'd even taken to accept booze as bribery in exchange for a night's sleep on the couch or on the floor in a sleeping bag. Butch was, for once, grateful for his mother's addiction in a way, because it meant the others were safer. No one could be bothered with Butch or his drunkard mother, so his house was open. The Gomez's would take some in as well because while Officer Gomez and his family weren't openly supporting the next generation, they didn't support the Overseer either. It seemed the Gomez bunch was the only full family that knew the real score.

Butch sighed and got up, pulling his shirt off and grabbing a clean one and his box of bathing stuff to go take a shower. Once clean, he dried off, dressed himself, and then meticulously styled his hair. Depressed as he was, keeping up appearances was important. Normalcy was important, tentative as it was. He knew that while few truly cared about him personally, if things had become so difficult that the Butch-Man was no longer interested in looking good on a daily basis, someone may lose hope; and they couldn't afford that if they were planning on fixing things.

After finishing his routine, Butch headed to the normal gathering place his generation mostly called home – the clinic. Once he rounded the last corner, he caught the gaze of Officer Gomez, who was standing guard outside the clinic. He looked white as a sheet, and there were tears in his eyes.
"Officer Gomez, what's goin' on?"
The guard near jumped out of his skin as looked at Butch like a teen caught by his mother sneaking out after curfew. Once he registered who he was looking at, the officer let out a long and shaky breath as though he'd been holding it in for a long time.
"It's Paul Hannon…"
Amata came out of the room before Gomez could finish, looking crushed. She looked up and saw Butch and burst into tears. Butch didn't know what to do, but his throat felt like it was collapsing.
Gomez put a hand on her shoulder, and she cried harder.
"What's goin' on here, guys? Why are you-…what happened to Paul?"
Amata spoke up between sobs.
"He…stuck up for me last night. Officer Kendall and Officer Mack…they got him. They beat him, Butch."
Butch felt his knees buckle and he planted a hand on the wall to stop himself from dropping to the floor.
"No, tell me he's okay…"
Amata looked at him and shook her head.
"I'm so sorry…"
Butch ran past her and into the room to see Paul lying on a gurney, surrounded by Wally, Freddie and some of the others.
He was still, way too still.
Wally and Freddie turned at the footsteps. Wally looked down and Freddie bit his lip to keep from crying. Butch took another couple of steps towards Paul and collapsed to his knees. Paul's face was swollen everywhere and even under Paul's jacket, he could see one of his arms had been wrenched from its socket. He was almost unrecognizable. Even though he was no doctor, it didn't take a PHD to see his head wounds had killed him.
Wally and Freddie stepped back and helped the greaser to his feet. Butch's face was twisted in fury and it was then he chose to turn and aim himself for the door, poison in his eyes.
"I'll kill him! I'll KILL THEM ALL!" Shouted the enraged youth, his voice cracking from the force of his cries and the heaviness of his sorrow. Freddie and Wally grabbed an arm each and held the gang leader fast in an attempt to stop him from getting himself hurt or killed.
"Oh boy, Butch-man, c'mon, you know you can't – they'll shoot you!"
"Smarten up, Deloria. We don't need another death."
Amata came in and rubbed her face free of tears.
"They're right, Butch. You know Paul wo-"
"SHUT UP!" He shrieked, tears streaming down his own face.
Amata pressed her hands to her mouth and sobbed, before coming forward and hugging the angry serpent.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Butch." As she spoke, he started to calm, resorting to dropping to his knees again and allowing Amata to hang on to him, likely for the comfort of both.
"Paul would want you to live; so as much as I hate your stupid gang, don't do anything stupid and go ruining the thing he loved most."
This resulted in a small chuckle.
"He really loved every minute with you guys. I guess what I'm trying to say is Tunnel Snakes kind of rule, especially because he was one."
"He is one. And always will be." Said Butch as he pulled away and stared hard at Amata. He stood once more and went to Paul's still form. He put his hand on Paul's chest and gritted his teeth."
"Birth to Earth, Womb to Tomb, brother. Y' did good."
Amata softly wept again at Butch's words as the Serpent King turned to look at Officer Gomez and the crowd of scared youths.
"This ain't gonna go down without justice bein' served." He began, his right fist tight as his left hand rested on his dead brother's chest.
"This ends here and now. We ain't gonna take this shit. We can't. All those old farts out there, scurrying around with their heads down ain't doin' anyone any good. They know the Overseer ain't good t' be in power anymore. We can't oust him – but we can protect ourselves. We'll start right here in the clinic - we'll bunk down and stay here, wait until they need medical shit and we'll negotiate with 'em. They can't do anything if someone's real sick!"
"But what if someone dies because they can't get in here?" queried Suzie, looking nervous.
Butch gave her a wry but bitter grin.
"They've killed a few of us already, and on purpose. I know it fuckin' sucks, but with their guns at our heads, someone's gonna die, and it may as well provide to the cause."
Wally looked at them and nodded.
"He's got a point. If they start figuring they need this area, they'll do something, and it'll be something we can fight against."
Amata shook her head.
"This is wrong…so wrong. But…" She looked up at Butch.
"You might be on to something."
Butch nodded.
"Let's start moving anything important into the back room and lock it up. Who knows where the key is?"
"I found it," Came Freddie's voice, holding it up before handing it to Butch. "I found it earlier lookin' for somethin' to eat."
"What are we gonna do about food? And places to sleep?"
Suddenly voices started murmuring.
Wally put a hand up and cleared his throat.
"We can drag mattresses in from the storage room. It's never locked. And as for food, I'm sure we can get a hold of some food from storage by going shopping for our parents, and just bringing it here before they realize what we're up to."
The group nodded and started talking amongst themselves. After a while, the group was split into three. One part to guard the clinic and halls around it, another to get food and the last, mattresses. Butch and Wally stayed behind with Amata, while the other less conspicuous youths split up and did their parts. Officer Gomez walked back in and looked at the three.
"Good luck. I'll do what I can, but you'll understand if I don't stick around much."
"Of course, Officer Gomez." Amata said with a sad smile.
"Thank you for not saying anything in the first place – I know what you're risking."
The officer nodded and gave the kids one more look before leaving the room. Amata looked at the boys before looking at Paul, her heart crumbling. Butch put a hand on her shoulder, before moving to Paul's body. He gently lifted the young man and slipped his jacket off, before laying him down again. Butch folded it, and looked at it fondly, his thumb rubbing the painted snake.
"I remember paintin' this jacket for him. The day he got it, he was stoked, and he always treated it like gold. I think though…" He looked at Amata and held it out to her.
"You were his girl, an' everyone knows it. Th' guy loved you, and even if you never really had a chance t' hit it off, I think you loved him too. So, I think that he'd want you t' have it."
Amata stood, stunned, looking at the jacket as she almost too carefully accepted it. She stared at it for a moment, maybe two, before gathering it to her chest and hugging it to her.
"Thank you…" She said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Wally and Butch exchanged glances, and Wally nodded at the Serpent King.

A few hours later, everyone had returned with supplies, and were prepared enough to say goodbye to Paul.
A small procession of people followed Butch as he pushed Paul's gurney down the hall, Amata on one side, gripping the bar, and Wally on the other. At some point, Officer Hannon walked out of a room and stopped in front of them; and the crowd of teens became tense.
Until he took off his helmet, revealed the face of a very broken man. He took off his armour, dropping it piece by piece to the ground until he was just in his vault suit. He walked forward, step by uneasy step, and pulled the white sheet back.
Hannon's breath hitched as he laid a shaking hand on his son's cheek. Butch and Wally backed up and gave the man a moment. The broken father looked behind him, and nodded grimly before his wife came out of the room as well. A single, choked sob escaped her mouth and she collapsed across her son's body, her husbands shaking hand on her back.
He looked at the group.
"The other officers said Paul was attacked by rad-roaches, but no roach is capable of this. This was them, wasn't it?" He growled.
Amata nodded.
"I'm so sorry, Officer Hannon."
"Not Officer, not anymore. Like hell I'm leading a bunch of brown-nosing, cold-blooded murderers that are willing to do this to my only child."
The grieving parents joined the procession as they wheeled Paul downstairs and to the cremation room.
Paul's parents kissed his brow and Paul Snr held onto Vikki to both comfort her and himself.
Amata kissed his lips and whispered a pained
"I love you, Paul Hannon. I'll never forget you."
Wally, Freddy and Butch gave Paul one last bro-fist, the latter two choking up once again, and Wally gripping their shoulders.
Once everyone had said goodbye, they slid his body in and Wally, being the only one who was strong enough in a few ways, pulled down the handle, turning on the flames.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Hannon."
The former officer shook his head.
"Not your doing, Deloria. Not at all." He said through gritted teeth.
"He was happy, with you all. He was happy."
When the flames died down, Paul Snr carefully swept his sons ashes into an urn, a look of anguish on his face and, his wife's, as they left wordlessly, clinging to the jar that had what was left of their only child.

Once everyone had returned to the clinic for the night, Butch leaned against the wall outside the little barricade they'd created to section off the hall and give the clinic more defense. He was deep in thought on the events of the day when something touched his arm.
Wally had tapped on the Serpent King's forearm with his knuckles, and without meeting eyes, he leaned against the wall too.
"Did good, today." He muttered, barely above hearing.
Butch stuck one hand in his pocket, the other lighting a cigarette with a slightly shaky hand that didn't go unnoticed to Wally.
"Would'a been better with Paulie alive." He said as he leaned forward to look through the window, his face falling as he saw Amata curled up on a mattress with Paul's jacket over her.
Wally sighed beside him, his head dropping back to stare at the ceiling.
"Paul would have been excited to be a part of what you started. 'Bout time you acted like a leader."
Butch looked at the taller man and gave a small huff and a smile.
"Yeah, guess so."
"More than what I did."
Butch's eyebrow raised and Wally looked at him.
"I've always pushed you for leader, but…I can't do that. I don't deal with other people's shit well, but you…you feel, and you get people's feelings. Can't lead without that." He looked down and ran a hand through his crew-cut ginger hair.
"I almost left the gang because of Paul's death and me thinking you were a good for nothing, now that your girlfriend's skipped town."
That stung Butch, but he let it go.
"What stopped you?" He questioned, curious.
"You standing up the way you did. We might have a shot, now."
"Y' think so?"
"Yeah…I do."
Wally held out his fist, and Butch cautiously bumped it with his own.
"Birth to Earth," He started.
"Womb to tomb." Finished Wally, smirking.
"Go, Butch, I'll take first watch. I know you haven't slept much."
"And you have?"
"Go." The taller serpent sharply thumbed towards the clinic's door.
Butch put his hands up and pushed away from the wall.
"Alright, I ain't arguing."
"For once." Came Wally's amused rebuttal.
"Night, Wal."
"Yeah, yeah. Fuck off."
Butch chuckled, and he was sure he heard Wally do the same, as he headed into the clinic and took a mattress nearest the door, next to Amata. He took off his jacket and removed the letter from inside, yet again. His bedtime ritual to try and have an easier sleep. Losing Paul had made the pain of missing Rosalinn worse. As he read the letter again by the light of his pip, he felt his chest constrict so tightly it stole his breath. He closed his eyes and let a couple tears slid down from his eyes past his ears.
"Butch?" a voice whispered.
He looked up and saw Amata sitting up, Paul's jacket in her arms.
"What?" He asked, sitting up as well and rubbing the tears away as quickly as he could.
"Can I read it?"
Butch looked down at the letter and sighed, then to Amata's surprise, he held it out to her. She gently took it, holding it out a little longer in case he changed his mind; that way it wouldn't tear if he ripped it back. When he didn't, she opened the envelope and slid the letter out.
After reading it in its entirety a couple of times over, she put the letter back in the envelope and handed it back.
"Wow…I had no idea." Butch looked incredulous.
"No, Butch I really had no idea. She never told me. I don't think she told anyone."
Butch looked at the envelope a moment longer before tucking it under his jacket.
"Makes sense – someone woulda just used it against 'er. Maybe even me."
"Would you really?"
"Yeah, back then."
"What's changed?"
Butch thought for a moment before answering.
"I feel th' same about her."
"Oh-OHH. That's why you were so upset the day she left."
"…Yeah."
"I'm sorry about Paul, Butch…and I'm sorry she left."
"I ain't sorry about her leavin' – 'cept not bein' with 'er. An' as for Paul, he was too good for this shithole."
"He was. He died protecting me from them - from my Dad. I'll never forgive him for this."
"You an' me both. We'll avenge Paulie. Don't worry about that."
"I…yeah."
"Get some sleep, Amata."
"You too."
The two uneasily settled down after turning off their pips, thoughts of their loved ones and better times playing through their minds like a holo-tape on a projector screen.
Tomorrow would be a lot harder, and the following days worse, because even inside the vault, war never changes.