Anya was doing her best to keep herself busy. It seemed, if nothing else, to help with the shakes. And the urges. The junk was out of her system, and with it, the addiction. She knew that.
But there was physical addiction, and then there was living almost a decade of your life with the chems in your system. Growing accustomed to them, expecting them. Needing them.
She had thought about tracking down the man who holed up in the same building that housed the water filters. She didn't even know his name, but people talked. They said he was a junkie too, she had even passed him once or twice. He seemed harmless, just as normal as the rest of the folk in town. But there was a hollow edge to his eyes, a distance that he couldn't disguise. It was all the proof she needed to know that he was either using, or thinking about the next hit.
But she didn't seek him out. Not yet anyway, though it was a struggle some nights, when she was awake much later than she should be.
Instead, she occupied herself with little tasks. Helped around the house where Lucas was letting them stay. And she constantly reminded herself about the people who had helped her. Gabriel, Fisher. They were her friends. If she slid back into the jet, even once, she'd be letting them down. She owed them so much already she couldn't bear the thought of being such a disappointment.
Gabriel knew, or at least suspected she was struggling. He was always keeping an eye on her, asking her how she was getting on. He was about to drive her crazy with his mothering when one afternoon he showed up with a small tool kit. Nothing fancy, and it had a heavy layer of grime on it, but it felt familiar in her hands. A reminder of the person she used to be. It was like the first set Phil had given her back home.
Home. The concept was a foreign one now. That home had burned, and there was no one left behind to make it a home again. She wasn't sure she would ever have a home again. A home was just something that could be taken from you.
Still, the tools had given her that sense of familiarity, and something to do with her spare time. She found an old jukebox in Lucas' home, it hummed with power when the switch was plugged in, but nothing actually worked. When she offered to take a look at it, the Sheriff had laughed at her.
"Go ahead, can't break that hunk of garbage any worse than it already is."
Of course, he was surprised when he came home that afternoon and she had broken it down into its individual pieces. It was all scattered in a corner of the room, and she had promised him she was going to piece it all back together again. Even Gabriel looked like he had his doubts about that happening.
It had taken her a full week to piece it back together again. She had seen one, before. A working unit, lit up and glittering. It had been so long ago, maybe she had imagined it, maybe it had only been a picture. But she felt confident she could make it work again, if for no other reason than she needed a reason to keep working. The most of it was getting it clean again, it looked like it had sat out in the wastes and the elements for years. Gabriel helped by finding new bulbs to replace the broken ones inside. The innards of the machine were largely okay, and what couldn't be salvaged, was just rewired. In her search for more wires, Gabe had brought her a junked radio. And that was when she had decided to make the radio part of it. There had only been two records still in the jukebox, and she wasn't entirely sure that they would still play in the condition they were in. It was hard work, and complicated, but she didn't mind. The more she worked, the easier it came back to her, and the less she thought about needing jet.
Harden, Lucas' son, had been eager to help once he had gotten over his initial shyness with the new strangers. As it came closer to getting finished, he spent more and more time watching Anya, eager to retrieve tools as she needed them. When it was finally complete, she let him push the power button, and it whirred to life. The lights flashed in multiple colors and the plastic disc was dropped onto the table inside where it spun and produced a warbling tune. The wide grin on his face had been as equally rewarding as her own feeling of accomplishment. They spent the rest of the afternoon learning how to work the buttons to select new songs, and how to get the radio to play.
Gabriel and Fisher rolled in that evening, just as the sun was beginning to set, and found Anya and Harden dancing up a storm in celebration. Lucas had brought home several bottles of wine inexplicably, but when he saw cause for celebration, he produced several Brahmin steaks and they made a feast of it.
"How bout I take you down to Craterside Supply tomorrow?" They were all sitting around the table, enjoying the delicious meat. The Sheriff was overindulging in the wine he had brought home, his mood somewhat subdued when compared with the rest of them. Harden jumped up every few songs, just to change the selection. It rotated on its own, but Harden seemed to enjoy showing that he knew how to switch it, so they let him be. "Things are still a little wild in town tonight after the dust up, but I reckon Moira would be real pleased to meet you. She owns that supply shop. I bet she'd pay good caps to have you fix up her radios."
"Really?" Anya grinned. "That'd be great." It hadn't occurred to her that her old skills might come in handy in the real world. It would at least be an opportunity to try and pay Gabriel and Fisher back for all they had done. Something she was still eager to do, despite Gabriel trying to reassure her they were square.
"Dust up?" Fisher asked around a mouthful of steak. Lucas looked over his shoulder to see that Harden was still busy at the jukebox before answering.
"Yeah, out of town fellah. Came in more than a week ago. Classy looking guy, plenty of caps. Pays his bills, kept an open tab at Moriarty's. Figured he was harmless. Stupid rich, but harmless." He took another swig if the red wine, his eyes starting to go glassy. "Never misjudged someone so bad in my life. He's been trying to pay folk off to detonate that bomb in town. Lord knows why." He shook his head, tracing the rim of his cup with his finger.
"Could someone do that?" Gabriel's face had turned dark.
"Only if you're some kind of tech genius." Lucas shrugged, and then gave Anya a quick glance. "Anyway, some wastelander tipped me off. I went charging into the bar, chest all puffed out. Acting like he'd just have a listen and then I'd run him out of town. Well, he had other plans. Pulled a gun on me before I could even spit." He let out a shaky breath and the table had gotten very quiet.
"Jesus," Fisher let out a low whistle. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah," Lucas snorted bitterly, refilling his glass. "Lucky that wastelander was around. Hardly more than a boy really, but I'm not too proud to admit that youngster saved my skin. And probably a bunch of other folk."
"I'm glad you're okay." Anya said after the silence had dragged on. Town was somewhere you could forget how dangerous the wastes were, but there were always vicious reminders that everything you had could be taken away. Harden returned to the table, a grin plastered on his face as another song erupted from the jukebox.
"Me too." Lucas said with a chuckle, ruffling his son's hair. "Anyway, I'll bring you around in the morning. Moira's a sweet girl, I bet you two will get along just fine."
"That sounds great." Anya smiled again, trying to forget the shooting. Lucas watched Harden for a moment, maybe realizing just how close he had been to not coming home at all.