Trust Me

Summary – Scar and James have a little...chat...about Ben's sacrifice.

Note – AU – after Season 2

Warning: some cursing

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!)

"Look Scar, I know you don't want to talk about it, but I-we need to."

"What are you goin' do then?" She snarled at me, pacing in the tight quarters. "Hold me back again? Pin me down so I'll listen?"

"He told me to!"

"And it's not going to change anything; that Ben died because he was going feral. The real Ben, the Ben I traveled with, he wouldn't have killed himself like a fucking moron!"

Both of us knew this fight had been spoiling for a while. First, emotions always flared while traveling the Wasteland, which was why Larry was Twig's and Bonnie's new shadow. Second, the numbness was finally wearing off of Ben's death and it was starting to hurt. A lot. I eyed Scarlett and figured the emotional pain might be joined with some physical pain in the near future. It just wasn't yet decided for who - I wasn't going to hurt family just as sure as I didn't want to be a punching bag.

"He told me to." I repeated, tossing my helmet onto an empty bunk. 4 beds at the local shit hotel had been cheap enough. Let's see, where should the others be...Twig seeking Nuka, well, that was a certainty, Bonnie was either for asking around after information, or possibly grabbing some food, and Larry...well, Larry was causing trouble that would bite us tomorrow morning, no doubt about it. Ass early too if previous towns had been anything to go on.

"And do you feel good about that, asshole?!" Scarlett spun around, striding across the room and punched me in the jaw - or at least tried to. I, still having no interest in being a mobile punching bag, simply slid to the side. "Congrats, you were following orders, you're not guilty, we're done, conversation over."

"He was TURNing feral-" I tried again. My hand shot out at top speed and the force sent Scarlett's new handgun to the floor with a clatter. "Muzzle discipline dammit! Ben was TURNING feral! He-"

"Oi!" There was a shout outside their door, followed by pounding. "Shut the fuck up or takkit out!"

"Mind your own damn business!" Scarlett yelled back. There was a distinct clicking sound and I rolled his eyes. Of fucking course.

"We're going, you can put your safety back on." I snapped, snatching my helmet and snapping it on before grabbing Scarlett's slender wrist. "Where's a place to talk around here?"

"If yall're gonna chat like decent folks, Diner. If slugin' and yellin', Bar."

"Bar." Scar said curtly.

"Fine." I bit off.

The two of us passed the old man and his trembling shotgun in the hallway, my shoulder blades twitching as he turned with the damn shotgun! to see us off. In a town of three places, it wasn't hard to find, we just followed the the sounds of horrible singing, drunken slurs, and shouts of cheating. I should probably keep Sacr away from the card sharks.

"You're going to drink one of these and then we'll talk." I ordered, slamming two lukewarm beers in front of us. Scarlett gave me a killing look and popped the top off, drinking in one long gulp about half the bottle.

"You know-"

"-he was going feral, yes, I know. If you remember, I was the one he choked."

"But he wasn't feral at the end." I said it in a rush and saw Scar's eyes narrow.

"What does that mean?" She asked in a low voice. "That he would have been fine?! That he did it for nothing?!"

"No."

"Quit playing with words, Jimmy." There was disgust dripping off the word. Fucking nicknames.

"Do you remember that sound...?"

"After Ben grabbed my throat?" Scar took a pull of her bottle. "My nightmares remember it very damn well thank you."

"He was feral then."

"And...?" Scar made a continue on motion. "Your point?"

"He didn't do that before he died." I said bluntly, crossing my arms. "His choice, his decision, his actions to save us- they were 100% him."

"No, they weren't." Scar said bluntly.

"What's your problem?!"

"My problem? I don't have a problem, I have reality. I've thought about it long and hard - the asshole I knew, and liked," she added quickly, "he was a friend – but he wouldn't have sacrificed himself. Hell, he had a rifle before and didn't even try to help us out of ambush!"

"That wasn't him!" I shouted, open palms striking the sticky table. I dimly heard bets being placed on myself and Scar. "The Ben I know left a place in the fucking Vaults and faced a nuclear explosion to save his wife!"

"I'm not his wife!" Scarlett screamed back, acing me across the table. "And it fuckin' was him 'cause he did it!"

"Fuckin' distustin', talkin' 'bout fuckin' ghouls." Muttered a voice nearby and I saw red. Without even thinking about it, my fist drew back and I twisted my torso as I let it go, connecting with a punch solid enough for a Rad Scorpion. The asshole dropped to the ground, not even moaning. That felt great. Oh hey, bonus points for the pile of puke.

"James," Scarlett said as she eyed the people around us getting to their feet. No one was taking bets anymore...apparently the bigoted asshole has friends, although they're stepping right over the unconscious moron. Maybe they're just spoilin' for a fight. "Did I ever tell you that you're an idiot?"

"Many times."

"Did you ever think I was right?" She ducked a swing and gave a sharp elbow back.

"Many times." I blocked a knife thrust with my vambraces and chucked my wobbly stool in a general direction – it didn't matter to me as long as I didn't hit Scar.

"You're an asshole, you know that?"

"I know." A feral smile lit up my face; not like anyone can see it from behind my helmet. "Family trait."

"Look James," She started, grabbing her forgotten beer and gulping the last of it. Then she smashed the bottom of the bottle on the edge of the table, flipping it for a more comfortable hold. "Ben had no reason to do that, other than he didn't want to turn feral and this was one last spit in life's eye."

"One word." I protested, losing wind as someone knocked me down from behind - it wheezed out anyway as I hit the diseased floor. "Family."

"That word doesn't magically solve anything." Scar was nice enough to kick a man before his foot connected with my ribs.

"Ask Larry what he'd do if he had family." Rolling away from several feet, I got back up, back to back with Scar as we faced the room. At least no one had pulled a gun yet.

"Sell them."

"I think you'd be surprised."

"Depends on the caps I guess. So what was Twig then?" Scar slashed at a man twice her size, and he had enough brain cells to think twice about attacking her. Attacking me, not so much.

"Not family." I grunted, vision doubling slightly from a lucky head shot. Hooray for helmets. "I honestly think you reminded him of Clem, at least close enough to be a daughter. It would explain why he was so protective of you when I appeared. Twig had no such connection - Ben didn't know he had a son."

"Clem?"

"His wife."

A pause, then a shrug. I thought I could detect a hint of tears in her eyes, but those could have been just as easily caused by the smell of rotting trash, stale piss, and over-fermented beer. A cyber-dog would have loved this place.

"Whelp. You'd know." She finally said, shrugging. It's not like we can ask him to confirm or deny it either. A last imbecile charged us.

"You weren't some last 'fuck you' to the world from a dying ghoul." I reassured her, ducking a fist and giving a punch in return. "Trust me."