Babysitter

"Gotta say, boss, I never thought you had it in you."

Sarah froze as Gage's drawling voice floated up through the stairwell. She'd stayed put like he told her to, but he'd been pretty mad over his belt when he'd left.

Mrs. Bossanova laughed merrily and Sarah felt herself relax a little bit. If she was here, things wouldn't be so bad.

"I'm impressed," Gage went on. "I knew you were a bigshot back in the day, but...damn." He paused. "You alright? I know you get all...sentimental and shit."

"I'm fine." Mrs. Bossanova sounded quite happy. "Mason needed to know his place. They all did. I feel...I feel like my old self again. Thank you."

"No problem."

The two of them rounded the corner and spotted Sarah. She suddenly felt sick—both of them were covered in blood. Mrs. Bossanova smiled at her, while Gage's face remained blank—Sarah found this worse than his scowls. At least when he glared she knew what he was thinking.

"Kid," he said with an odd jerk of the head. Both Mrs. Bossanova and Sarah stared at him, surprised.

"Let's get you back into the den," Mrs. Bossanova said after a moment, still looking puzzled at Gage. "We cleared most of the rubble out. How's your head?"

"It's...it's fine," Sarah mumbled as Gage picked his old belt off the floor and walked past her as if she didn't exist. She accepted Mrs. Bossanova's helpful hand reluctantly, trying to avoid the skin with blood on it, and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. She limped on into the next room.

Gage had set down his old belt on a counter and was pulling the grenades off with ill-disguised contempt. Sarah watched him work, unable to help comparing him to Mr. Glass, who hated weapons and refused to work on them, but had been a master of making toys. Beautiful toys. The way his hands darted over all the bits and pieces, turning them into her favourite Buttercup doll, kept Sarah entertained for hours.

Gage was the opposite. His methods were rough—forceful, but Gage was skilled in his own right. Weapons were his playthings, and she saw the focus in his piercing eye as he set about fixing up his new belt—and for some reason, repairing the old one. When Gage took out a knife, however, Sarah backed off. Something about knives made her feel sick and shivery, and especially when they were in Gage's hands.

"When was the last time you ate, Sarah?" Mrs. Bossanova called from across the room. Sarah shrugged, eyeing the blood all down the boss' front. She didn't know where it had come from, and she was afraid to ask—no one covered in that much blood should be so cheerful. It reminded her too much of the Disciples.

"I'll fix something up for you in a minute," Mrs. Bossanova said, not noticing Sarah's wariness as she clattered around the stove. "Damn thing's all busted up from the bomb. But I'll see if I can't get it working. We're not eating stale pre-war food, that's for sure."

"Nothin' wrong with scavenged grub," Gage grunted, banging his fist down repeatedly onto the counter so the pieces on it rattled and bounced. "You're just too damn picky."

"It's called having standards."

Gage snorted but didn't bother to reply. Instead he looked at Sarah. "Here." He tossed something at her without warning—it hit her hard in the face. She yelped and staggered back, almost tripping and falling over a piece of rubble. Unconcerned, Gage said, "Keep your hands to yourself next time, yeah?"

Sarah rubbed her stinging cheek, hating him, and looked down at the object in her hands. Her heart jumped to her throat. It was his old belt, just as worn and threadbare as ever, but with new holes punched into the soft leather—far neater than her messy attempt.

"Yeah?" Gage repeated, giving his usual glare.

Sarah met his eye and tried to speak, but her mouth was bone dry. She attempted to swallow, gave up, and nodded.

"Good. Fuckin' kids." He picked up one of the grenades and began strapping it onto another belt—Mrs. Bossanova must have kept her word and bought him a new one.

Sarah twisted the precious offering in her dry hands, blood pounding through her ears. If Gage was aware of her watching eyes, he ignored them, his lips pressed together in a thin, harsh line. With trembling hands, she looped the old belt through her pants and wrapped it around her waist twice. It fit snugly, Gage's handiwork providing a superior fit.

Sarah looked up at him, and for a moment she thought she saw his eye flick away back down to his makeshift workbench. But she couldn't say for sure. Sarah rocked on her heels, her face still smarting, and then said quietly, "Thank you."

Gage's hand slipped and he swore. He shot her another burning scowl. "Stop fuckin' distractin' me. I'm busy." He sucked on his finger and returned to tinkering with his belt, a slight flush in his dirty, hollow cheeks. When she didn't move, he barked, "Go on! Git!"

He was so horrible. A comfortable anger washed away the awkward moment—Sarah stuck her tongue out at him and flounced off. But she'd barely taken two steps when Gage suddenly said, "Hey, asshole."

She whirled around, ready to stick her tongue out at him again. Then she stopped. His face was calm and blank, like a doll's. It was a little unnerving. "What?"

Gage twisted his mouth to the side, as if struggling with himself, and then muttered, "You did good today. With the grenade, I mean."

Sarah blinked. They stared at each other in silence, neither one of them scowling. Then Gage's brow furrowed, and he lowered his head again, ending the interaction. Sarah continued to watch him, utterly confused.

Raiders were weird. Gage was weird.

Shaking her head, Sarah limped away. Maybe the bottles she'd been playing with this morning had survived the blast?

"Don't get too comfortable," Mrs. Bossanova said, testing the stove as it clicked stubbornly at her. "Once we've eaten and I've set up a few surprises, we're relocating for a few days. I need to crack down on this place quickly before it gets out of hand again."

"Surprises?" Sarah didn't like the sound of that.

"Some traps of my own. This place is already about to come down. Anyone stupid enough try the same trick twice is in for a shock."

"I don't see why we can't just leave her behind."

"The situation has changed." Bossanova gripped her sword as she strode through the streets of Nuka World, barely casting a glance at Sarah as she stumbled along behind them. "The Grille isn't safe. Until I establish a better hold of Nuka World, she's not staying there alone." Mrs. Bossanova shot Gage a sly look. "Unless you want to leave one of your grenades with her?"

He snorted but didn't answer.

All eyes were on Sarah as she struggled to keep up. The supply pack was heavy and bulky, the straps slipping in her sweating grip. The uneven ground made things worse, leaving her staggering down the street.

"Hurry up!" snapped Mrs. Bossanova. Sarah jumped and rushed forward, tripping over her own feet and landing in a painful heap on the ground. She glanced up to see Mrs. Bossanova rolling her black eyes. "Pick her up, Gage."

Gage strode over and dragged Sarah to her feet. Mrs. Bossanova had warned her before they left the Grille, but this didn't make her situation sting any less. "They have to think you're just a slave," Mrs. Bossanova whispered as she'd handed Sarah the bag and ushered her out of the door. "They have to think you're owned. Untouchable."

Sarah believed Mrs. Bossanova was faking. She just wasn't so sure about Gage. He smacked her hard across the back of the head. "Move."

Sarah obeyed, comfortable in hating him again. The burning fury was a shield, staving off the piercing looks of the raiders watching their progress through town. It didn't matter that they were twitching their hands over their guns, or running their fingers over their blades while staring directly at her—Sarah had her hate, and it raged like an inferno.

They made it to the wilderness of Nuka World without incident, the fierce sun beating down on Sarah's neck as she continued to stagger. The burden on her back was becoming unbearably heavy, and she didn't know how long she could keep this march up.

Something grabbed hold of the bag and wrenched it away so hard Sarah was pulled over backwards. She hit the ground with a painful bump, almost knocking the wind out of her, but immediately rolled to her feet, ready to run. Then her breath caught in her throat. Gage swung the bag over his shoulder with a grunt and walked past, not even bothering to look at her.

Sarah glanced at Mrs. Bossanova and saw she was staring at Gage in surprise too, before blinking, smiling, and nodding to Sarah. "Come on. We still have a little walk ahead of us yet."

She stayed rooted to the spot, her heart racing as she watched the two adults stroll further and further away. This wasn't how raiders acted. They hit and hurt, cut and killed, and they did it for fun.

Gage whipped around, glaring. "You heard the boss! Keep up!"

Sarah scurried after them, his barking tone settling her again. It was amazing how quickly she could move without the horrible weight of the pack and for a moment she felt a twinge of guilt for Gage. It quickly disappeared as she drew nearer to his scowling face, and he turned away with a snort of disgust.

Sarah hoped it was hurting his shoulder.

"You're dumping this on me?"

Gage shuffled his feet, looking startlingly like a child as he avoided the pretty lady's sharp gaze. "Yeah, well, it's not my ide—"

"I need someone to look after her," Mrs. Bossanova said, shoving Gage aside and staring defiantly up at the other woman. "Gage trusts you, so I will too."

"I don't..." Gage muttered.

"Shut up."

Sarah watched the argument from the other side of the parlour with mild interest. The taller lady—who Gage called Jack—was tapping her foot irritably, her arms folded tight across her chest. She was quite pretty, despite the scars on her face, and while very slim, also had a very big bottom, which Sarah only noticed because Gage kept looking at it every time Jack turned away from him to argue with Mrs. Bossanova.

"I know she's a slave, but she's my slave. I don't intend for her to die anytime soon and this seems like the best place to put her. Have her mop the floors or something if you don't want any dead weight here."

The bickering continued in the background as Sarah turned her attention to the parlour instead. It reminded her of the Operator's hideout, with plush red curtains hanging around the walls, and little tables lining the walls against squishy old sofas. Peeling posters were nestled in battered wooden frames, and there was even a little shelf with books.

It was also very clean. There was no trash on the floor or dust on any of the furniture. Sarah liked it.

"Alright, alright. Fine. I'll look after your damn brat," Jack sighed, pinching the bridge of her wonky nose.

"Thank you." Mrs. Bossanova paused, her eyes briefly flicking over to Sarah for a moment and then returning to Jack. "There's just...one thing."

"What?"

"I know she's a slave and she's to help here, but under no circumstance is she to become part of your...merchandise."

"Excuse me?"

Something about Jack's tone made Sarah pay attention again, and she glanced towards the raider. What she saw made her shrink back into her seat. Jack's face was twisting into an ugly expression, her entire body trembling as she clenched and unclenched her shaking fists.

Mrs. Bossanova seemed unimpressed, her face impassive as she surveyed the other woman. "It's a prudent request. You run a brothel that promises to satisfy any taste."

"Not that."

"Really?" Mrs. Bossanova tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. "A raider with scruples? I find that hard to believe. What's the issue?"

"What's the issue?" Jack repeated incredulously. "Sounds like you're the one who wants to put kids on the menu." She shot Gage a murderous look, and Sarah was surprised to see he didn't meet her eye. "The fuck is this?"

"What I want is to hear your reasoning," Mrs. Bossanova interrupted loudly, her own features blank. "So I'll say it again: what's the issue?"

"You ask me to keep her safe, then start doubting me straight away?"

"Answer the question."

"Boss—" Gage began, but Jack finally snapped.

"Because I ended up in a place like this!" she hissed, her voice strained, as if every word was costing her. "And I...I know what it feels like." Jack opened her mouth, maybe to say something else, but then clamped it shut again, her dark eyes overly bright. Sarah wondered if she herself looked like that when Gage was mean to her.

"Boss," Gage tried again, his eye fixed determinedly on the ceiling. His voice was low and quiet, almost like he was trying not to draw any ire upon himself. "The kid's in good hands."

Mrs. Bossanova considered Jack. After a while she simply said, "I believe you."

Jack didn't reply straight away, silently composing herself. Then she pointed a shaking finger to the exit. "Get the fuck out before I change my mind."

Bossanova nodded and left without another word. Sarah watched her from her seat on the other side of the room, silently begging her to stay. This Jack was scary and she didn't want to be left alone with her.

Gage, however, hesitated. He gazed at her for a second, his rough face softening. "Jack, I—"

"Money," Jack snarled, extending her palm to him. He quickly dug in his pockets, handing her a handful of caps without question. She counted it, stashed it in a pouch on her belt, and pointed in the direction of the exit again. "Out."

Deciding he better do as he was told, Gage stumped after Bossanova, slamming the door behind him. From the other side Sarah heard him yell, "What the fuck was that about?"

Jack dropped into a nearby chair and put her face in her hands.

Sarah stayed where she was. This woman seemed like all the rest in Nuka World—angry and shouty. Also not paying much attention to Sarah, which was always a mistake. Making her mind up to follow Gage and Mrs. Bossanova to see whatever they up to, Sarah carefully eased herself out of her seat and crept towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Sarah jumped and turned to find Jack staring at her, a slight frown on her face. She shrugged casually, causing her slave collar to bump against her neck.

Jack's eyes looked a little red, her cheeks clearly wet, even though Sarah was standing by the door. Jack sniffed and wiped her nose noisily, getting to her feet. "You ain't going anywhere. So don't even think about it."

Sarah shrugged again and tugged absently at her collar.

Jack walked over, frowning at the device. "How long have you had that on for?"

"Dunno."

She crouched down in front of Sarah, gaze boring into her. "If you get your hands on any soft fabric, wrap it around the collar. Then it don't rub so much." Sarah stared back. Jack's brow furrowed. She stood up straight and moved away. "You'll be expected to earn your keep while you're here. You can clean up the rooms when the clients have left, and help with the day-to-day chores. Stay out of the way of the adults, keep to your room until you're called for, and we'll have no problems. Got it?"

Sarah nodded. But that didn't mean she was just going to toddle off to her room like some silly little kid. She had questions and lots of them. As Jack took hold of her chair and began to tuck it back under the table, Sarah asked, "Were you a slave?"

Jack froze. She suddenly looked years younger, a girl caught doing something bad. Her eyes met Sarah's and they stared at each other in silence, waiting to see who broke it first. Jack licked her lips and opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Slowly she nodded.

"What happened?"

The knuckles of Jack's hand—which were still gripping the chair—turned white. She bit her lip, dropping her gaze to the floor. "You really want to know?"

"Yes." Sarah folded her arms. "I want to go home. Maybe you can teach me how to get free." She didn't know why she was talking to Jack about this—Jack might tell Mrs. Bossanova after all. Or even worse, Gage. They'd punish her for sure. But they wouldn't be back for a while. "Tell me." Her voice sounded oddly commanding. Sarah liked it.

Jack lowered herself back into her chair. "Truth is, kid...I don't remember. First memory I had was a cage. A few days later, a different kind of prison." She crossed her legs tight, gripping at her knees, her head bowed.

Sarah waited, wondering. Her thoughts drifted back to the raiders who chased her to Kiddie Kingdom, and what they'd been doing to the man. She shivered, feeling slightly sick.

"But I got out eventually," Jack said, straightening up a little, her face vacant and hollow. "When I'd done my time. When I was as tall as them. They weren't expecting it, see. Thought I was broken." Her eyes narrowed, and for the first time a gleam of emotion flickered through them. "They strayed too close to my cage."

"You killed them?" Sarah whispered, eyes wide. She couldn't imagine any of the slaves in Nuka World daring to attack a raider. But maybe that's why they were stuck being slaves.

"Reached through the bars and took a gun right out of its holster," Jack replied, a horrible smile spreading across her lips. "Blew the Madame's fucking head off and stole her keys." She rested her head on her knuckles, staring dreamily at the wall. "My first kill. I'll never forget it."

Sarah bit her lip. She'd never killed anyone before directly before—dropping the grenade was the closest she'd come to it, and anyway, the bomb was the raiders' fault, not her's. But killing someone properly seemed so scary, so...unfair. But there were so many people trying to kill her here, and for no good reason. One day she might have to. "What...what does it feel like?"

Jack blinked. "To kill someone?"

Sarah gave a small, nervous nod.

Jack's grin widened, revealing some of her blackened teeth. "God...it's a rush like no other." She shivered, her eyes growing distant, leaning back in her chair and propping her feet on the table. "To take the power from your keepers and strangle them with it...I won that day. And every day, every kill, shows I am the strong one. Not them."

"So you do the same thing to other people?" Sarah asked, a prickling heat creeping up her neck as she glared at Jack.

Jack shrugged. "Survival of the fittest. My ordeal shaped me. Changed me. Whatever I could have been was snatched away the moment the collar was put around my neck. I could have accepted my fate, or attempted a normal life. But I knew what the outcome would be."

"But…" Sarah stared at Jack, completely confused. "They hurt you. Why would you be like them?"

Jack flinched, recoiling with a pale face. She stared at Sarah for a long time, her lips slightly parted and trembling. Then she pushed them together, her expression hard, before relaxing into something casual and uncaring.

"Better a predator than prey." Jack sat up straight, her boots hitting the floor with a heavy thud. "I'll never be someone's bitch again."

Her eyes narrowed, the smile slipping from her face. "One day you'll get your chance, kid, and I hope you take it. Slaughter us all. Earn your place at the top."

A/N: I got a little distracted by NaNoWriMo. On the plus side, I'm writing consistently again!