I think I hate Jericho. I really, really do.
It's not the way he smokes like a chimney, swears like a sailor and drinks like a Lurk. Hell, those things don't earn him gold stars and happy faces but they also don't make him any different from any other asshole Wastelander.
No. The reason I hate him runs deeper than that…
You know, all I ever hear from people in Megaton is how I'm crazy to hire the "ex" raider, the "ex" psycho, the "ex" murderer/rapist. They're always there in my face with a brand new ex every single goddamn day.
Thing is, none of them seem to realise this about raiders; raiding is for life. That's what any of them will tell their little raiders or you if they can stop trying to cut your legs off for the time it takes to chat. That particular disease runs deeper than the flesh; it's like a parasite that bores into the soul. Anybody could see it if they had the balls to look into Jericho's eyes. They're bright black and alive, a stark contrast to his tired face.
And me, the fearless Vault Kid, just had to go looking into his eyes and think how useful he'd be out in the Wastes.
Right. Talk about a fucking big mistake. Yeah sure, he is useful; always pointing out possible sniper positions and warning us when we're straying too far into open ground. Useful. Strictly in a tactical sense.
Charon and Butch don't like him. Of course, they don't like each other either but they get along about as well as can be expected in the Wasteland. When it comes to Jericho, I don't think either has said more than three consecutive sentences to him for the entire time we've been travelling around. Charon of course doesn't say much in the first place, but I get scared that even Butch shuts the fuck up around Jericho. DeLoria would gladly talk a mile a minute to a Deathclaw if he thought he could outrun it, but when Jericho is around he descends into a silence to rival Charon's.
I could handle the smoking and the drinking, the swearing and people's comments, even the uncomfortable silences between him and the others. I could hack all that, but there is the one thing about him that I cannot stand which makes everything else I can meaningless;
Jericho thinks he loves me and I absolutely loath him for it.
I want to scream that it isn't love when we sometimes end up sharing a bed roll when we travel…
I want to kill him because it isn't love when I wake up in the middle of the night to his hands kneading my ass and his hot breath on my ear…
And god… I just want to curl up and die because it still isn't love that I lean into his rough, artless groping and whisper my pleas for him to fuck me.
It would be fine, sick, but fine if he was just using me the way I wish he was because at least then we'd be on the same page. Letting him do those things to me, letting him make me feel all those amazing, filthy things to distract me from my dead father and impossible mission would be oh-so perfect if he would fucking quit thinking its love.
When he rolls off me and I'm staring up at the night sky, sweat-slicked and panting, the last goddamn thing I need is to hear him say "I love you." Because when he says those words, reality comes crashing back down on me like the stars falling out of the sky.
So I hate Jericho. I hate him because he refuses to let me forget that I'm human and he's human and we're both supposed to feel these stupid goddamn human emotions like love and hate. But I can't pull myself away from him because I need the unreal feeling he gives me and I need the hate to sustain me through this world where I am forever surrounded by clouds of blood and pelted by rains of bullets.
I've never lied to Jericho. I'm cruel and I'm a killer and I hate with all that's left of my heart, but I'm not a liar… Because every time he says he loves me, even as the stars come crashing down from the sky, I will whisper the same thing without fail;
"I need you, Jericho..."
I hope that wasn't totally disjointed. I thought it would be good to have a few of these where it's from the Vaultie's point of view. :D