June 2287

When I was younger, Dad taking trips away had seemed so thrilling.

Back then it would only be a few days at a time, maybe a week and a half, while he scouted the area outside Diamond City and traded with outside traders. I missed him in those days but I loved having special time with Mom- she would let me sleep in the big double bed and get me an extra treat with a wink and a whisper not to tell Dad. I'd sit in front of the lit stove and nibble on my treats while Mom brushed my hair and sang old songs. When Dalis was born it was still as special, he grew old enough to join in games and we'd play outside until it was dark or if it was raining we'd put on puppet shows for Mom with old socks. Then Dad would come home with things to sell and for a few weeks we'd have caps to spare and Dad would be in such a good mood he'd tickle us until we begged for mercy, even joining in with our silly games. We didn't have much, but we had a roof over our head and always had at least enough caps to keep the stove warm.

Then Mom and Dalis were killed. The house felt empty after that and if I hated it then Dad hated it even more so. His visits started stretching from a few days to a couple of weeks and then it stopped being a surprise when he was gone for over a month at a time. There was no more laughter in our house, no more games or cakes in front of the stove.

My new routine consisted of the same things while Dad was away.

I woke up and automatically sparked up a hand rolled cigarette, taking a long drag while my eyes were still barely open and washed it down with whatever was left among the half empty bottles next to my bed.

It was home brewed beer that tasted like piss, but it was better than nothing. Plus, I'd spent good caps on it so there was no way I was letting it go to waste. I took a couple of swallows before leaning back against the wall and yawning. It felt too early to be awake and I would have given anything to roll back over and go back to sleep. But I knew that was just my hangover talking so I forced my eyes to stay open and tried to enjoy the first cigarette of the day.

It was only a few minutes of the morning, but the drink and the smoke together were enough to stop the shaking and make me feel more ready to force myself out of bed. After draining the last couple of swallows of beer I flicked the still smouldering butt of my cigarette into the empty bottle. My eyes still felt gritty and my head throbbed from the alcohol I'd managed to get through last night but at least I was awake.

Dragging a hand through my hair and internally cringing at how greasy it felt, I tried to guess at what time it was. I knew that it was still early since there wasn't enough noise outside for it to be past breakfast time. But early was good. Dad had been gone for almost two months now. It was hard to predict when he'd be back, so I tried to be prepared every day, just in case. I knew that if he came in and I was still lounging in my underwear surrounded by empty beer bottles he would be pissed.

We had an agreement that while he scavenged the areas outside of Diamond City for things to sell, I was in charge of picking up extra work to make sure there was enough caps to keep us afloat. I'd had my own job since before Mom and Dalis died, cleaning and helping out in the market and even though I had to give most of the caps to Dad he was 'generous' enough to give me a small allowance. I saved it up and bought new clothes or comics and sometimes a bowl of noodles if I felt fancy. Everything else I bought with money from my chems.

I'd gotten into the chems in a strange way. It had been the year after the incident and I missed Mom and Dalis so much. Dad was in his own spiral of grief and I didn't know what to do. I took to hiding out in different bolt holes in the city, dark corners where I could sit and sob in peace. One of those days, a visiting trader stumbled upon me. She didn't say much, just sat down next to me and offered me a drink of her beer. I already had experience with binge drinking, so I took it. Drinking beer and crying with a stranger lead to my story spilling out between hiccups and swallows. I'd expected pity but instead she offered me a hit of jet. I didn't hesitate. The feeling was different to alcohol, everything seemed slower and calmer and I finally stopped crying. Since then, I didn't look back.

Then last year I made a deal with one of the more relaxed guards. They brought me in large chem supplies for cheap and I sold them on for a profit- and there was no need to pay the tax, so Mayor McDonough didn't get his cut.

It was slightly illegal and pretty damn shady, but it got me extra caps and a share of the chems, so I was passed caring. Dad however hated chems almost as much as he hated ghouls- he barely tolerated Stimpaks unless it was an emergency and he thought chem addicts should be kicked out the city too. I made sure my stash was hidden or sold when he was home and tried to ignore the withdrawal until he left again.

The last thing I wanted was for him to figure out all I had done was curl up in bed in various stages of semi-consciousness and with varying company in bed. My habits while he was gone were strictly between me, the bar and my chem dealer.

I untangled myself from my blankets and stretched, cracking something in my back and almost stumbling on legs that were still a little unsteady from the night before. Still yawning, I reached into the pile of clothes next to my bed and pulled on some trousers and a semi-clean flannel shirt. They still had a layer of dirt and sweat but at least they didn't completely stink or have any worrying stains. Nothing screamed 'unhinged civilian' like walking around in a top with blood all down the front after all, even if it was only from a nose bleed.

Through the thin walls the sounds of the market started to filter through, people chatting and going about their day and I had to steel myself to go out into the crowd. I wasn't really a social person, especially when I was sober, and the people here tended to frustrate me more than usual with each passing day. I knew from my Dad's stories that Diamond City was a haven compared to most settlements out passed the walls- but those walls that kept us safe made me feel trapped and like I was slowly going crazy. I saw the same people and had the same conversations about the same shit every day. At least the alcohol and the jet made it tolerable.

My bed was on the little loft platform in our house, curtains haphazardly hung around it to give an idea of privacy. My dad's bed had the same curtains- it made our house seem even smaller but at least it meant we didn't need to see each other change. I pulled back the curtain once I had everything buttoned and made my unsteady way down the steps.

As I reached the bottom, a sharp couple of raps on the door down below brought me out of my morose morning thoughts. I shoved a pair of thick socks on and my boots before heading to the front door. There was a couple of shattered bottles that I assumed had fallen from my upper floor that and I didn't want to cut myself and end up having to clean up blood as well as the glass.

When I opened the door the light from outside was enough to make me wince, but I managed a half smile when I saw it was Lee and not some busybody coming to complain about any drunken behaviour.

"You look like crap," he greeted before pulling me into a one-armed hug.

"Thanks," I rolled my eyes, wriggled out of his grip, and stepped aside to let him in, closing the door behind him which thankfully dimmed the light back to an acceptable level for my hangover. "It was a long night."

"I know. I was there for most of it, keeping you out of trouble," he grinned as he made himself comfortable on the old threadbare couch and I had to stifle a groan. Lee had recently joined the city guard, making him even less tolerant of my drunken behaviour. He was the complete opposite of me even though we'd been friends since before we could walk and talk. I mean, I appreciated Lee helping me since he never really got drunk and wouldn't dream of touching chems but sometimes it felt like having my Dad around. "You're so cute when you're drunk and puking, River."

I covered my face, groaning aloud this time, and feeling my cheeks flush.

"That'll make some great gossip today," I mumbled from behind my hands, leaning against the wall and lightly hitting my head off the corrugated metal.

"Nobody saw but me, don't worry."

I peered out from behind my hands and Lee was giving me his trademark grin, the one that used to always make me feel comforted. These days it felt more condescending than anything else, but I forced that feeling back.

"Thanks. I appreciate your help and everything…"

"Anything for you, babe."

I managed not to flinch at his casual term of endearment. Lately both him and dad had been dropping hints about how we would make a great couple and maybe now that I was eighteen I could start thinking about dating seriously instead of fooling around. It seemed kind of expected that I'd end up with Lee and maybe when I was nine I would have been happy with that. But now?

I loved Lee, I truly did. But it was like he represented everything I hated about the city.

He accepted everything at face value. Supported the mayor, even with him banning the ghouls and ignoring all the problems that were going on. Whenever I tried to bring this stuff up he would change the subject and it got under my skin. I didn't want to sign up for another thirty years of that, having kids and being just like my dad. Not yet.

I wanted more. I didn't know exactly what, but something more than this.

"Aren't you going to sit down?" Lee interrupted, patting the empty space next to him.

I wasn't stupid. I'd sit there, he'd put his arm around me and try to work up to a kiss while I was staring at our old stove and sank into memories of my brother and I huddled around it for warmth. So, I shook my head and avoided meeting his gaze.

"Nah, I really gotta get everything together for dad coming back. Air out the place and tidy it up, you know?" I gestured to the broken glass at my feet. It was an easy excuse and Lee wasn't the type to look for the lie.

"Sure thing, I should probably head for work anyway," he gave me the same easy smile as always, getting back to his feet and heading for the door. "I'll swing by later, catch up with your dad. A guard radioed in and said she spotted him a few miles out so I'm sure he'll be here soon."

"Thanks for letting me know, Lee," I forced a smile in return, sure that it must have looked twisted and painful. But Lee didn't seem to react to it, just kissed the top of my head and let himself out.

I exhaled slowly, the tension leaving my shoulders and I sagged against the wall. It was exhausting having to pretend to be the person everyone wanted to be and getting harder with every day. It was just easier to be alone. Most teenagers had went through the same angst, I wasn't stupid enough to not know that. But most of them had grown up my now, accepted adult responsibilities. I was almost 19, soon I wouldn't have the excuse of being a teenager. I just prayed the empty feeling inside of me wouldn't keep growing.

With fumbling hands, I rolled myself another cigarette, making a mental promise that this would be the last one before dad came home. At least this time I propped the door open with an old cinderblock, so the smoke and the smell would have somewhere to go. I tidied as I smoked, just for something to keep me busy and stop me thinking.

The empty bottles and the broken glass got tossed into a slightly soggy cardboard box which I left outside. The next time I passed the half-open door the box and bottles were gone, which was one less worry for me. The last of my chems were stashed into my usual hiding place, an old pre-war lunchbox that had the worlds flimsiest lock on it. Forget a bobby pin, you just had to look at the lock and it would burst open. But even a weak lock was nothing to turn my nose up when I shared a cramped house with almost no privacy.

I had more chems left over than usual. A trade caravan was visiting the city and they had a wider choice than I could provide, and nobody could get into trouble from buying from then. So less people had come knocking for my services, but I'd made enough to add a load of caps to the tin that I slid under my mattress. I had a fair amount of caps saved up so far, enough I hoped to make my escape one day and have a new life far away from Diamond City.

Once locked, the lunchbox went under my bed with an old empty suitcase and an old rucksack. When I was younger I kept my favourite blanket, some toys, and a bunch of scribbled drawings in it. These days it was my emergency to-go bag, packed with my old leather jacket, a spare pair of clothes, the laser pistol and ammo my dad knew nothing about, a swiss army knife, a couple of flasks for water and the teddy bear that Dalis had loved. I didn't know when I'd have to go, but I knew I didn't want to stay in this city forever. I'd been born here and never seen outside of the walls. I wanted to travel more than anything else, but Dad had forbidden it. I knew if I had to go it would need to be quick, so I had my bag ready and all I'd need to do was shove in my blankets, my chems and some food. With it on my back and my machete at my waist I would be good to go.

It was a flimsy plan, but it was all I had.

Sometimes I'd take it out just to repack it all, double checking everything was still in order. And I'd hold the one-eared teddy bear that Dalis used to cling to and imagine I could still smell his scent on the fur. I took it out from the pack once I put the caps and chems away and clutched it to my chest, ignoring the familiar ache that came with thinking of him and Mom. It was four years since it had happened, but I still missed them the same.

Dalis had only been six, a buck toothed little goofball that always begged me to tell him stories of heroes and villains. I'd been fourteen and was well in my rebellious streak of arguing with our parents, mainly Dad, stealing his booze and staying out for days at a time. But I always had a soft spot for my kid brother. I spent two nights in near blackout drinking and when I came home from our little teenage hideout everyone looked worried and sent me home. Once there, Dad sat me down and told me what happened. Some semi-feral ghouls had gotten into the city. Mom and Dalis were the only victims. The bodies were so badly damaged that Dad had them cremated and scattered the ashes outside the gate. I never got to say a proper goodbye.

I kissed the bear on its nose, just like I used to do to Dalis and slid it back in the pack, putting everything back where it was supposed to go. I couldn't mope in maudlin thoughts all day, not with Dad almost home.

Instead, I went back downstairs and switched on our old radio. With the volume cranked on the old pre-war songs I could focus on sweeping the floor and neatening up the last bits and pieces, washing the few dishes I'd used and putting everything back in the right place. Our house was pretty small, and we didn't own a lot so thankfully it didn't take long. But when I was done I felt a vague sense of accomplishment. It was probably the only productive thing I'd managed in who knows how many days and while I wasn't going to settle down to be a homemaker any time soon, it felt nice to have a clean house again.

Putting the broom away, I grabbed some water and sprawled out on the couch with an old pre-war fiction book I'd got a good trade on the week previous.

I loved anything from before the war. When I was younger, I spent most of my time imagining myself in a world where people could go where they please without the fear of super mutants or raiders shooting them in the back. I liked the classic Grognak comics as a kid or the romance ones that showed the women with the fancy hair and pretty clothes. The comics were pretty common, though the books were harder to get in decent condition, but I loved them, losing myself in the stories set hundreds of years before.

Reading them and listening to Travis play the old songs on the radio was about as close to relaxing as I could get without a handful of chems.

It passed an easy couple of hours that way, my mind occasionally wandering away from the plot of the book. It wasn't as easy to focus on the fictional romances and dramas as it used to be. I didn't know whether that was me growing up or the effect of the amount of chems I had taken but there wasn't much I could do about it except keep forcing my eyes back on the page.

With the music playing and my focus elsewhere I didn't hear Dad enter until the door slammed and I practically jumped out my skin.

Leaving my book open and splayed on the sofa I quickly moved across the room to help him with his bag. I spared a moment to quickly check him out for any injuries or scars- four weeks was a long time to be away and the world outside wasn't the safest after all. But thankfully apart from a smattering of new grey hairs at his temple, bruised knuckles, and a patch of sunburn on his cheek everything looked fine.

The knot in my stomach loosened ever so slightly as I helped haul the bulging bag onto our table. Part of me went back to the old days of excitement of Dad coming home and how he'd wrap me and Dalis up in a tight hug that made me feel so safe. I missed those hugs.

"Did you make many caps while I was gone?"

That was the usual greeting from dad. No 'how are you?' or 'I missed you' these days, not since Mom and Dalis died. It was like at that moment four years ago, I stopped being his daughter and now he just saw me as a way to make caps and a habitual disappointment. The knot re-tightened in my gut and I pursed my lips but otherwise held my tongue, giving him a sharp nod. I hadn't done much cleaning at the market, but I'd done enough to cover my back and I'd put it in the jar on the shelf. Dad squinted at it, tutted under his breath, and shook his head.

"Take the small bag down to the market," he gestured to it with a thumb as he started sorting through the rest. "It's just some scrap but it should get at least 40 caps. Ask about some more work while you're down there."

Still Dad didn't meet my eye and I frowned. It was obvious I was dismissed, and I untied the smaller bag from his pack with fingers that trembled due to my frustration.

After almost two months of trying to act like I wasn't worried about him and the minute he was home I was reduced to that little lost girl feeling and I hated it. I glared at the back of his head for a moment; waiting to see if he would add anything else. When the silence I got too much I turned on my heel and stomped off toward the market.

Despite what Dad said the scrap was hard to sell. The new traders in town were selling cheaper than the prices dad set. I knew he wouldn't accept that as an excuse for not coming home with enough caps though and thankfully I had my own persuasion techniques and managed to scrape together the requested 40 caps. Mister Zwicky from the schoolhouse agreed to payment for me fixing a few things around the place and gave me an extra ten caps for helping on of the kids with his reading. I didn't mind really, Mom used to help out at the schoolhouse, so I liked hanging out there. Plus, it kept me out of the house while Dad was there.

I was tempted to treat myself to some noodles and a Nuka-Cola with the last of my own cap supply, but I resisted the urge, forcing my feet to take my straight back home.

Doing all the stuff that pissed my dad off- standing up for ghouls, abusing chems, squandering money- was easy to do when he wasn't here, and I could picture his reaction in my head. Seeing it for real would be a whole different story. Still, I was eighteen. An adult. What could he really do?

At least I had the caps clinking in my pocket- dad couldn't act that disappointed in me. No more than usual at least.

I had to bite back a sigh as I arrived back home. Dad didn't even look up, busy sorting through a box of ammo and putting it into neat little piles. I stood in front of the closed door for a minute just watching his hands move. They were smooth and methodical like always, almost hypnotic to watch. When I was younger I'd sit on the floor and watch him sort out his finds and pepper him with questions about what he saw beyond the wall. Back then he was a kinder father; he used to scavenge toys and treats from the Commonwealth just for me and I thought he was the coolest Dad around.

Thinking about our old relationship made some of my resentment soften, just a little. Maybe one we could still salvage at least something of a father-daughter relationship. Maybe I just had to put more effort in.

I didn't say anything just yet- I knew better than to interrupt his counting- just crossed the room quietly and tipped the 50 caps I'd made into the jar. It would be nice to earn my Dad's approval for once and I hoped this would make a start towards that. Still without saying anything I sat on the floor, across the table from Dad, and started sorting through the other things he'd unpacked from his travels. There were a few tattered mod blueprints, those I rolled up carefully and secured with string. The traders from outside the city always took them for a good price. There was also a couple of busted looking pistols, I knew Dad could take them apart and clean them up nice and get a decent price for them too. He could turn his hand to pretty much anything these days, claiming it was the only way to make money.

There were other bits of miscellaneous scrap and tools, and we sorted through them in companionable silence for a while, the only sound being metal clinking and Dad's occasional gruff cough. Eventually, when we were almost done, Dad started talking. It wasn't much, just a story of some traders he'd made a good deal with down towards the South. Apparently, he'd helped them with a Mirelurk problem and they'd been grateful. I smiled as I listened, reminded of old times. I felt ten years younger, sitting cross legged on the floor listening to my hero of a Dad.

Once everything was sorted, Dad took several bundles to put them in an old crate and headed for the door.

"I'm going to the market myself to sell these things, I have some other favours to cash in. The rest of the stuff needs cleaned away and dinner started," he still spoke in his cool, clipped manner but before he left he finally met my eye and gave the tiniest twitch of a smile. "I'm glad to be back, River."

He was out the door before I could say anything back or return his smile but once the door was shut and I was alone I felt lighter inside. Maybe staying here a while longer wouldn't be as bad as I expected.