I gasped as I sat up, my lungs burning for air. It felt the same as when I would go swimming, daring myself to stay underwater as long as I could. My heart sank as the room around me came into focus. Nick was right. Home was still unreachable except through my memories.
"Don't sit up too fast. The disorientation may last a few minutes." Dr. Amari said. The parallels to how I first gained consciousness in this world were eerie.
"I'm ok, I'm ok. Nick, where are you?" I asked.
"I'm right here, Brenna. Take my hand." he said.
I felt his metallic fingers trace over mine, and I grasped onto him like a drowning woman would cling to a life preserver. He helped me exit the lounger, and held me steady on my feet for a few moments.
"Did you see, Nick? My world?" I asked. I could not keep the pain of the loss of my life that was out of my voice.
"I saw, lovely lady. I saw." Nick said softly.
It seemed he was just as impacted by his time in my memories as I was. My grief overtook me, and I threw my arms around his waist, burying my face in his neck. I heard a sound of surprise come from deep in his throat, and felt, more than saw, his arms move in the air around us with awkward hesitancy. After a moment though, his arms wrapped around me as tightly as I had mine around him. Nick murmured private reassurances into my ear, and for the first time, I believed him.
Dr. Amari interrupted our shared turmoil. "Did you get the information you were looking for, Mr. Valentine?" she asked.
Her voice snapped me back to the reality of the Commonwealth, and away from my longing for Connecticut. Nick stepped from my embrace, smoothed his trench coat, and told Dr. Amari that he did indeed see the Vitruvian symbol clad paramedics, and witnessed my extraction from my destroyed Ford. I wanted to hear more about what Nick saw, but not in front of Amari. The woman's brusque nature got on my nerves.
"Thanks for your assistance, Doctor. We'll be in touch if we need to take another trip down memory lane." Nick said.
"Yes, Doc. Thank you for that brief taste of home. It meant something important to me." I said.
And with that, we were off. Night still lingered over Goodneighbor. It occurred to me that outside of my humble home in Sanctuary, I really had no other place to go. After Mayor Hancock's little joke about the hotel in town, I wasn't keen on staying there. Then again, it was a few days' trip back home.
"I took the liberty of renting you a room at the Rex before you'd arrived. The dark circles under your eyes that you've been sporting tell me that you're not getting enough sleep to keep running around like you do." Nick said.
"I suppose that may be true but aren't there any other places to stay? You didn't drop a ton of caps at that place, did you?" I asked. I was feeling quite grouchy and a bit emotional on top of the exhaustion, I guess.
"That hotel is the safest place to catch a rest right now. Follow me." Nick insisted.
I didn't know what it was about that man that made him enjoy herding me around. Must've been part of his programming. I was starting to feel like a sheep.
I trudged behind him, not looking forward to attempting sleep after revisiting the scene of my car crash. Maybe this hotel would have a bar. A little bit of forgetfulness in a bottle.
Nick got me checked into my room, and bid me goodnight. We would meet up in the morning near the shops at the entrance to Goodneighbor, and come up with a plan.
As soon as he was gone, I dumped my bag out on the bed, searching for my little leather drawstring pouch of caps. Score! I left my other crap where it fell, and went back downstairs in search of some sleep aids. I got the distinct feeling that Nick would not have approved of that choice.
In the lobby, I found a walking, clanking, and talking beer machine. Wonders never cease. I bought a beer, and shortly thereafter, found a chem dealer. I didn't know where to begin when it came to buying drugs. Never in my life did I think it would come to this. Maybe this was all just the product of a coma after the wreck, or simply a bad dream. In that case, drugs wouldn't matter.
The chem peddler offered advice as to which drug would give me the effect I was searching for. After some debate, I decided on a little red inhaler called Jet. Mr. Dealer said it would "slow everything down for a bit, make you feel like all the confusion won't matter as much". Sounded good to me. I tucked my purchases into my pocket, feeling a touch of shame. Although most folks on chems in this world made no effort to hide it nor truly needed to, I was used to my world where the "war on drugs" yet raged.
Once I was back in my room, I sat contemplating the Jet on my lap. The promise of a night of peace, and yet it felt dangerous. What would my Jay think of all this? Doing drugs in a shady hotel. This is what my life in the Commonwealth had come to.
I took a deep breath, and blew it out with a sigh. After giving the little inhaler a shake, I put it to my lips and took a hit. When Jay and I would have a few drinks at home after the kids were in bed, he used to call being buzzed having "swimmy head". That wonderful and warming wooziness hit me within moments of doing the Jet. I giggled at my thoughts of Jay and all the "W" words dancing through my mind.
No wonder there were plenty of people on drugs in the Commonwealth. This stuff was great! I took another hit off the inhaler. And another. And then I stopped caring so much about being stuck here, or the shitty bed, or the intrusive thoughts of every stripe that ran through my mind consistently.
One more deep suck on the Jet, and I stretched out on the bed. Sleep took me, and for once, it was dreamless.