James didn't know what to feel, he was so confused, so full of thoughts...that he was exhausted by the time nightfall had arrived. Or perhaps that was due to John pushing the pace at every opportunity?
Is son...James hadn't recognised the boy...man...when he had first laid his eyes upon him. He had been so different...had that been the face of a nineteen year old man? The face gaunt, body wiry and skin covered in dirt and scars? How could one person change so much? So much that not even his father recognised him?
Still, that had been nothing compared to the haunted look in the boy's eyes... The gentle soul seemed to have been burnt away, replaced by a barely contained rage, even when the man had calmed down, his face still streaked with tears...it had been there. It frightened James, not for his own safety but...he feared for his son, of what he was becoming. It hadn't helped that the boy had instantly changed his behaviour the moment they left the vault.
He had visibly tensed up, and though he still spoke to James, exchanging all the questions and answers they both needed...he had never once looked at him, eyes focused on the surroundings. James had a long experience of the wasteland and the only people he'd seen act like that were caravan guards...but not even they had compared to John's behaviour. It had seemed so...predatory.
And now he sat on a rock, breathing heavily as he tried to recuperate from the march...and John was off fighting. James was torn with his exhaustion and John's very firm order that he would stay put...and the natural inclination to protect his son. Still, the hard eyes staring him down had left no room for disobedience...so James found himself listening intently for any scrap of sound while he watched the events unfold.
Why was his son attacking the raider camp anyway? They hadn't spotted the two travellers and they could easily take a detour around them...James didn't like the conclusion one could draw from that. Or he did...he wasn't sure. What had happened with the boy!?
Ahead he watched as John approached the small hill where the wooden barricades erected sported a few dried up corpses nailed to their outside. Definitively raiders...James forced himself not to retch. His child moved smoothly and quietly, assault rifle half raised and eyes forward...a predator...James looked away, grimacing. This was not what he had wished for him....
A moment later he heard a shout. Forcing himself to look back he saw John move, his suddenly drawn sword crashing through one of the barricades...then he rushed in, shouldering right through the broken wood. James cringed, why!?
A shot.
No!
A scream.
No!
Then two more shots followed by a gurgle and a cry of pain.
Then silence.
No!
"Clear!" John's voice called out...James' felt a flood of relief wash over him. "You can come up now! There's two beds here!"
James rushed up, already counting the injuries his son might have and how he was supposed to save him with what little supplies he had. Maybe John had some? Oh God let it not be...
Stepping out of the entrance he'd created John held two bodies over his shoulders, both quite large men...hoisted up like nothing. James froze mid-step as he watched his boy casually dump the bodies to the ground, two small kicks sending them rolling down the hill. "Got all their stuff already, so don't worry about it." Not looking at his father John went back in, an irritated mutter reaching James' ears together with the sound of something hitting the ground. "Damn...stupid...head..."
James still hadn't moved when John came out with another body, this one he dragged by the collar of her already quite torn shirt...and her head hung in his other hand by her dark hair.
Recoiling James watched in horror as the headless corpse was pushed over to roll down the hill as well. The red eyes stared at him...mouth hanging open in a silent scream. Of course James had been around death, he was a doctor after all, and one who had worked in the wasteland at that...but the brutality of battle still got to him when he saw it...and especially when his son was the cause of it...
He had stayed in the vault for too long...
With a small grunt John tossed the head over towards the pile of bodies. Turning to look at James he said, voice completely normal: "They didn't bleed that much, most of it is on the walls...so the beds are still okay." He shrugged, seemingly a little confounded by James' stare. "Well, as okay as any beds are out here...is it okay by you if I take their drugs? I don't want to use them but they sell for quite a good price...dad?"
Shaking his head James muttered: "I...don't see why not. Erm...do you do this a lot?"
"Do what?" John asked, gesturing for James to follow him 'inside'. The place was a little cramped, the right and left wall being covered by steel shelves cluttered with various items. At their feet two beds lay, almost touching one another. Further off, next to the real entrance to the little camp, a small table stood, a few broken bowls of noodles still lying there.
"Attack people." James regretted the words the moment they left his lips, it came out wrong.
John didn't turn to him though, focus on rifling through the items on the shelves, he didn't even seem bothered by it. "They're not people, they're raiders. And yes, quite often." His eyes narrowed, then focused on James, making him shift in worry. Those eyes...they were so different from the ones he remembered, it made him uneasy... "How did you survive out here without fighting them?"
"I was often in Rivet city or Jefferson memorial, protected by the brotherhood of steel..." James shrugged. "Other times I had guards, or simply avoided them. I have never heard of anyone...not even the brotherhood...just attacking them like this though, not without a specific purpose."
"That's because the brotherhood is busy with the mutants in DC. Besides, they're raiders, isn't that enough of a purpose?" John queried, returning to his work with the efficiency of a professional, which meant lot of experience... "Also, we get beds, more ammunition and some stuff to sell from this. At times I've avoided them for a lack of time...but it's always good to kill raiders. If nothing else but for the proverbial wallet."
"Raiders are people too." James muttered, keeping to a corner as he watched the blood splattered over the inside of the walls. It seemed a lot...but apparently John disagreed.
"Not really." Was the casual reply. "Sure, you can reform them, I've seen one at least who's turned from their frenzied state, he's an asshole though...not worth the trouble if you ask me." Then he shrugged. "Besides, if one doesn't kill them they'll attack others, not that I really care about it but it's a good reason to fight them..."
James frowned, the last seemed...contradictory. "You don't? It sounds as if you do."
"Maybe." Another shrug, the man heading for the next shelf. He seemed agitated, like a trapped animal. James grimaced, his son...he didn't recognise him. "Well...maybe...I don't rightly know." The man pulled a hand through his hair, gaze sweeping over the shelf in an oddly stressed manner. "I just do it alright?"
"Okay...I'm not sure I like you attacking people on such a loose premise." James crossed his arms in front of his chest, forcing himself not to jump at the sight of John turning to look at him with those angry eyes of his. This was his son dammit! "Though I suppose getting rid of raiders is good...one should do it for the right reasons."
John's eyes narrowed, don't swallow...don't let him see you're scared of him...your son. "I attack them as freely as they attack me, the laws of the jungle apply here..." Damn, should never have let him read that damn book... "It's justification enough."
"Reasoning like that is what created the Talon company and the slavers..."
"Don't you lecture me!" Suddenly James was pressed against the wall, squishy blood pressing into his jumpsuit as he found John's face inches from his, hot breath brushing against him and narrow eyes glaring at him. James caught himself tensing for a blow that never came. "I have done more for Megaton, Rivet city, Arefu and Big town since I came here than you've done your entire life! So don't come telling me what's right and wrong!"
"Wh-"
"What I've done?" John dropped him, quickly going back to working through the last shelf, as if nothing had happened. His face smoothing as the rage was pushed back, burning just behind his eyes. "I've practically wiped out the super mutants from outside DC, I've turned the area around Megaton almost completely safe to travel, I've fixed Three Dogs stupid radio transmission, I've deactivated the bomb in Megaton, I've wiped out enough Talon company mercenaries to hamper their activities for years...and saved too many prisoners to count." James blinked, wow... "Stupid idiots, bet they don't even put up a damn fight..."
"That's...quite impressive." James admitted even as his thoughts raced. How much had his son fought? How many had he killed? Because he had left John in the vault...to fend for himself...and who no doubt had moved through all of that to find James. The guilt raked him as he watched John rifle through the last shelf, the intent glare almost burning a hole through the stocked items.
The man guffawed, reaching down he grabbed something he apparently found valuable before turning to check the table. "Don't blandish me. " Huh, he didn't think James, his father...was honest? One could understand it but...over such simple words? Was he really that bitter? "I do what's needed to be done, any good it does is just a bonus." He shrugged, tentatively poking the content in one of the bowls on the table. "I'm...sorry if I snapped at you. I've been a little...tense as of late."
James relaxed a little, feeling his shoulders drop...it was a bit of a task to keep up with John's mood. "I know son. And I do understand." Walking forward he carefully placed his hands upon his son's shoulders. They tensed under his hands, turning into twisted cables of steel...James almost expected the man to rush off. "And I am proud of you...as any father would be. But you must understand that I'm worried as well."
"Funny way of showing it." John snorted, grabbed a fork and stabbed at another bowl. "This food seems okay. At times they grind some buffout in the bowls...these ones had none apparently."
"You suggest we eat it?" James felt a hint of disgust, God...he'd been stuck in the vault for far too long...
"Of course, I don't have that many supplies, barely enough for me while pushing the pace...so we should take any given opportunity to eat other food and to stock up." John gestured for the table, commanding James to get around and move to one of the leftmost bowls. Command...when had his son begun to order him around? James hadn't really thought about it, but now he saw it, the kid didn't even seem to hesitate about it. When had their relationship changed so completely? Of course it was probably his own fault for leaving like that...
Hesitantly jabbing the noodles with an offered fork James kept his eyes on John, the man had already scooped one of the bowls into his hand and was pushing the meal into his mouth at a tremendous rate, barely bothering to chew. Where he once would have poked at the food, enjoyed it piece by piece...he now just poured it down without a hint of caring about the taste.
James' gaze went to the hands, so bony and leathery...a mark of starvation. Guilt...
"Eat up." John ordered, already tossing an empty bowl aside and reaching for a second one. "It's good."
"Surprised you can even taste it." James muttered, then forced a smile as he pulled up a few strands of noodles. "I thought I taught you manners."
John laughed, a short and honest bang of air. "Sorry, when in Rome you know..." He actually slowed down on the second bowl. Hm...the noodles weren't that bad, James shifted focus to the meal just in time to choke on them when John continued: "So...doctor Li huh?"
Looking back up he found John intently focused on his food, fork mechanically stabbing down and pulling them up to a ravenous mouth. "I'm not sure I understand son..."
"Meh, maybe it's nothing." The man shrugged. "Not like I care."
"When you say that I find myself preparing to be thrown into a wall."
John's face split into a grin, the still somewhat white teeth seemingly glowing through the dirty face. "Heh, guess I earned that." He shoved another large chunk out of the bowl's content into his mouth, two quick bites and it disappeared. "Still, it was a little cute, you should have seen the way she lit up when talking about you."
"Perhaps, but I'm a little old for such things, besides..." James looked away even as he felt his son's eyes on him. "...it would be too painful." And I'm married to my work...John probably understood that.
There was no answer save that of cutlery cutting into ceramic bowls.
Then James forced himself to look up, to see John placee a now empty bowl unto the table and kick his boots off with a weary sigh, eyes closed while he leant against the wall. With his eyes closed he was so different...simply a tired old man. He's nineteen...James didn't like that he had to remind himself of it all of the time. "And you? Any girls I should know about?" James almost laughed, this was a talk he had expected to have in the vault at times, but here? Never. In fact, without Amata around he couldn't be sure about the answer...
"Wha...no, not really, I've been busy."
"What was that? You hesitated." James caught himself grinning, ah...so his son was still the same in some aspects?
John's eyes opened, but he looked away, the rage in the eyes muted to a mere flicker. "N...no nothing. Really."
"Really?"
"Really."