History's Tricks

Summary – Seeing the danger, knowing what will happen, James follows Ben's path.

Note – Season 2, Episode 6 – in the midst of the grand battle

Disclaimer – I do not own or pretend to own anything from either the Fallout games or from Nuka Break, the web-series(but I'm very happy to be a huge fan!)

"You're my family. The last of it." James remembered saying to Ben, after sharing with him what the fate of his Vault would have been minus Clem and her teachings. "Nothin' else matters."

And that was true, in a sense. Water didn't matter - it could be found with hard work, even the purified kind. Food was the same, and from the stories he had heard it was much easier to survive out here in the Mojave than in the Capital Wasteland. Family though - through blood or other ties - family always mattered. Once you lost someone you could never get them back again, and everyone in the Wasteland knew that intimately...although there were sometimes rare exceptions, like when he thankfully had found Bill's daughter alive.

But then, a little bit after that conversation with Ben, James had seen the strength only heard about before in Vault 7 - it had been handed down from generation to generation, becoming almost mythical in proportions with each repetition because time and time again Benjamin and Clem's story had been told to captive audiences, usually with the speakers highlighting certain actions or emotions to further their own agendas of course, but always with Benjamin willingly and diplomatically giving up his spot for Clem. Hah! Wouldn't the overseer have an aneurism if he knew the truth!

And honestly, even when growing up in a safe and stable environment conductive to the idea of selflessness, James couldn't imagine the people he knew calmly going off to die in a nuclear explosion, especially if earlier they had held the much coveted sanctuary in one of the impossibly sought after vaults. They would have fought tooth and nail to get a foot in the door, sneaking in if at all possible, to avoid their waiting fate. And if their own Clem had to be sacrificed, then so be it.

The fact that Ben had done just that, had walked away from safety to face a nuclear explosion alone - there was strength there that was slightly beyond frightening, to be honest.

And he, James Eldridge, had just seen Ben mere minutes before sacrifice himself once again, this time knowing full well what his end would be. Though he probably "knew" what was going to happen when the bombs fell and had been extremely surprised when ghoulification had occurred instead.

But now that presence was gone - Ben's luck having been all used up the first time, over 150 years ago, with nothing left to live through this smaller, more personal apocalypse.

And that was the end of that - until later, when History repeated herself for the third time with the same family.

James knew that pre-war people always complained about Mother Nature bein' a bitch, but he figured that title should belong solely to History, who carried a bigger stick liberally laced with irony.

In front of him was Scarlett, her arms trapped at her sides and the business end of the gun pointing harmlessly away, being pulled away from combat like a toy. Captured. Again. Fuckin' crazy Leon.

Behind him was a groggy goon, down but not out, and pullin' himself to his feet quicker inch by inch. The gas mask wearing man had held a knife earlier, but he could have changed weapons. Gun? Blade? Something poisoned again?

There would be no second chance, no time to ready himself if he didn't take care of the guy now...but then Scarlett could be out of range, back in Leon's arms and making Ben's sacrifice worthless.

A single snide side thought amidst all this - he was gonna die by some nameless mook? Pathetic.

Decide. Now. No time.
No hesitation. Choose.
No time. Now. Decide.

Seconds later, his small hatchet had finished its air acrobatics and thunked solidly into the head of Scar's attacker, spraying blood everywhere - and then he unabashedly screamed, his voice echoing along with the nuclear fire that was now raging along his already hateful torso. Twisting painfully, he drew his gun from its holster, managing to shoot himself free from Leon's goon before dropping to the dusty ground, flat on his back. Spots of rapidly blurring gray obliterated the golden desert before him, taking him far from the fight, the Mojave and most of his cares - although a part of his fighting spirit still sought Leon's death by his hand. An eye for an eye, blood for blood.

Somehow, enough of him stayed coherent to hear something above the rattles of bullets and screams of pain. Footsteps. A gentle raspy sensation, at odds against all else felt so far, as his gun was taken from his slack hand. Someone was standing above him, he could tell by the slightly blacker background against those annoying circles, and while he wasn't sure who, he could take a guess.

Death by gun then - and his own at that. Ben would laugh at the irony, but James felt there was a sense of justice in it, after killing so many others and not just in this fight. If he had any regrets, it was waiting so long before finding Ben - and not being able to personally slit Leon's throat. He could place bets on one of the others doing it though, the odds were good - Ron, Scar, Raz...maybe even Twig if the Vault dweller had any amount of luck.

But before a bullet would burrow into his skull like a frightened molerat, and darkness would permanently claim him...there was pride, a feeling of satisfaction that he too, had that same great strength Ben had possessed.

Calmness settled over him like a warm blanket, blackness stole quietly up on him, and James Eldridge lost his tenuous hold on consciousness with a faint, proud smile, waiting for a death that never came.

History had always enjoyed her little tricks.