The Road
He loathed the silence.
He also loathed the company.
Why was she following them? Was it part of her plan? Was it to further examine her new-found "associates"? Was she trying to rub it all in?
Fuck her.
Oh ho ho ho! Something wrong. Johnny boy?
And fuck
her too.
Aww, don't be like that! You're hurting my feelings, here! Seriously, though, what's up with the slowly rising anger? And is that a hint of self-loathing and resentment I spy? It's like someone lit up a fuse to a nuke here. Good thing it's a long one, because *boy* are we in for an explosion. Johnny boy, Johnny boy. Didn't your daddy teach you that anger issues are bad? You might lash out and, *gasp*, somebody could get hurt! He, he, he... Speaking of lashing outs, how's the dodo-head holding up?
He didn't know. He hadn't turned to look at them once during this treck. Nor did he have any desire to do so.
Oh, don't tell me you're still beating yourself up over the way she looked at you.
The memory came back.
The grip on his stick tightened.
Johnny boy, Johnny boy, Johnny boy. How many times must I repeat myself before you figure it out? You tried to help her and she payed you back with hatred.What did you expect? Acceptance? A thank you? Those things don't happen in real life. People don't appreciate it when you butt into their problems, even if you want to help. You are forever uninvited.
He could feel tears rushing down his cheeks.
And why would anyone invite you of all people? Take a good, hard look at yourself. You can't even deal with your problems, how do you expect to help others with theirs? And when you did reach out to others, what was the result of those grand expeditions? You fucked up. You fucked up badly. More bodies litter the Wasteland when you decide to "help" than when you don't.
Stop.
No, not until I am finished. As I was saying, you only make things worse. And that's to be expected, isn't it? All your life you've been manipulating people's lives to make yours better. Your creations have reaped more souls than you can count. That's what you're good at. That's all you've ever been good at. And what better proof than what happened? You played Agent Hero-Worshipping Cock-Sucker real well, but when you tried to help Princess Dodo-head? Oh, wasn't that quite the fuck up?
Shut up.
You don't get to TELL *ME* to shut up, you godsdamned worthless piece of GARBAGE! You're a FUCK-UP! You've ALWAYS been a fuck-up! You will always BE a fuck-up! Wanna help people? Get the FUCK away from them. You've never belonged anywhere and you never will. And all you'll ever do is hurt. Hurt others, hurt yourself, hurt, hurt, hurt, HURT! So stop fucking trying. All that's lead to is a vicious cycle of you fucking up, me telling you to get over it and you telling me to shut the fuck up. Well, you know what, you ungrateful FUCK-UP? I'll shut up. Because I know you will royally fuck up again, and that when you do, you'll come crawling back to me like the sad little fuck-up you are.
Good luck.
The mask had begun cracking.
[hr]
The Gate
"I believe your people and this town have a...history?"
Even here. The Enclave had caused pain even here.
He wondered how'd they act if they knew who he was. Same treatment, he wagered.
He deserved that.
---
"...I think you mean Doc Church, follow us, we'll show you the way. Again, what happened? Has it got something to do with that Enclave scum outside the gates?"
Scum. He supposed it was rather accurate.
He noticed the Princess throwing a glance at him. Taking a look at the scum she was stuck with, perhaps?
" - Yes, that was the very woman that drove a knife into Miss Black's eye."
[small]"You'll never save anyone."[/small]
"Bastards."
"I couldn't agree more."
*Click!*
The truth was out, then. Kristin Blamco, in a single sentence, had scattered what little was left of his crumbling mask. Jonathan had tried his best to shelter her from being tricked, from being thrown into a situation that she couldn't come out the winner from.
And still all you see is the bastard in me.
In the end of the day, Jonathan was Enclave. It didn't matter if he didn't choose it in the first place, it didn't matter that he hated every single day of his life he spent in it, it didn't matter that he jumped ship the first second he was given the chance. If he didn't hide his identity, he would have been treated the same way #411 had been.
He had accepted that fact. He had come to expect it from regular folk. The Enclave had caused more than enough harm to gather enmity, and old hatreds die hard. But not from Kristin. Not after what they had gone through to save Lucy.
[small]"You never belonged anywhere, and you never will."[/small]
"I'll see you at the doctor, there are a few things I need to take care of." he said bluntly as he turned away and walked away. He didn't expect a reply, and of all replies he never expected, this one was the least expected of them.
"I'll see you soon, I hope?"
Jonathan stopped in his tracks for a moment, standing dazed in disbelief, before bitterly marching on on an even quicker pace.
He couldn't understand her. On one moment she was cursing him and in the next she acted all hurt that he left? How much more polarizing could she get? More so than the feelings of betrayal he was feeling, this constant emotional back-and-forth made him feel he was suffocating.
He was barely holding himself back as he walked away from the streets and into a dark dead-end, away from prying eyes. And there, he let loose, breathing heavily, violently removing his scarf and throwing his hat down in exasperated notions. But that wasn't nearly enough to calm the monsoon of emotion he was experiencing and, as emotions peaked and things came to a head, Jonathan roared and threw a full-strength left-handed punch at the wall.
"FUCK!"
Newton's Third Law: Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. The amount of force used to strike the wall was thus propelled back into the arm, and sharp pain burst out of his hand. With his back against the wall and tightly gripping his wrist, Jonathan slid down to a sitting position and tried to assess the damage. He could move his fingers, albeit with pain involved, but every attempt to turn his hand into a fist was met with excruciating pain. The sudden pain brought about sudden change, and anger turned into pity and loathing.
He sit there for a few minutes, staring blankly at nowhere in particular.
[hr]
Craterside Supply
The shop was looking better than last time he had visited, at least from what he remembered of it. It looked tidier, cleaner and had this air of... growth rather than decay one would come to expect out of most shops built out of ruins and scraps. Still, all the familiar sights were there: The merc with the bored-but-vigilant-"I'm-watching-you-scum" stare, the vault suit at the back of the counter, books lying around in the back...
"Enclave, you say, Sherrif? What could someone from the Enclave be doing outside of Megaton?"
"I don't know, Moira. First there's rumours of the bomb being re-armed and now-"
The sounds of conversation drowned out as Jonathan entered the store. He immediately felt three sets of eyes staring at him wearingly, and if he were in a different mood than the one he was in now he'd feel awkward. But as he were, he didn't really care.
"Hell-oooow..." he said, as he raised his left hand and tried to do a waving motion, force of habit making him forget he had possibly broken it a few minutes ago.
"Ah, you must be the one of the new arrivals. Welcome to Megaton, stranger. I trust I won't have to expect trouble out of you." said the Megaton Sheriff, Simms, as Jonathan started walking towards the counter.
"Sheriff." spoke out Jonathan in acknowledgement, tipping his hat. "Moira." he continued, as he turned to Craterside Supplies proprietor, "...You." and finally, awkwardly, as he faced the merc.
"Must say, you do look familiar... Ah, I remember now. You're... Bob."
"Hah!" let out Jonathan, genuinely surprised, "I'm rather flattered, sheriff. Didn't expect you to remember after all those years."
"I'm the sheriff, it makes my job easier. Besides, you did offer a good deal of help last time. You remember Bob, Moira? He dealt with the power shortages we were having a few years ago."
"Ooooh, right. I remember now. Good to see you're doing well!
"Now, now, sheriff, you're overselling me... I didn't singehandedly deal with everything... And thanks, Moira. Your book helped me immensely."
"I'm glad to hear! But, I imagine you didn't come all the way here just to say hello. Anything you need?"
"A few things, actually." he replied as he searched his pockets to find a note, "I'll need everything written down on this list." he finished as he handed it over.
"Hmm..." said Moira as she took a curious look,
"these are all Pip-boy parts. Lemme see what I have in stock." and disappeared into the back of the store.
A brief, awkward silence followed, as the two men standing next to the counter waited. Small talk was never something Jonathan was good at, even less so in the mood he was at now.
"How's the hand?" suddenly inquired Simms, surprising Jon a bit with his gruff voice and direct tone.
"Oh, this?" Jonathan replied, raising his arm to highlight his bandaged hand, "It's nothing serious. Should be ok again in a couple of days."
"Good to hear. Say, Bob, care to tell me what a member of the Enclave was doing keeping you company as you approached the town?"
"She wasn't company." retorted Jon immediately, annoyed for even being associated with the likes of her. "And... well, I ain't no good at explaining those things, sheriff. You should ask miss Kristin, she should be at the doctor's place now. She's better at explaining these things than I am."
"The doc, eh? I was told that the woman that came to town was seen carrying someone. Very well, I think I will pay Doc Church a visit."
"Don't lemme keep ye."
"There's another thing... How much to do you know about bombs?"
"Bombs? Well... I am no expert, but..." he gave off a "I know a few things" kind of shrug.
"You see, there have been rumours recently that someone has been tampering with the bomb, trying to re-arm it or something like that. Rumours being rumours, I would normally take it with a grain of salt, but..."
"But given these are rumours about the bomb, you'd rather have check them out. And in order to keep people from panicking, you would have someone that isn't well known around these parts check it out. Right. I can do that. Can't promise anything, of course, but I can do it."
"It's... good to see I don't need to do any more explaining, then. Do this for me, and I'll pay for the parts you need."
"Actually, Sheriff... The girl that miss Kristin was carrying with her is the daughter of an old friend of mine. I would much rather you payed for her medical bills and see to it that she has her needs provided to."
"Hmm, very well. You got yourself a deal." said Simms with a smile, extending his hand to Jon to shake hands.
"I have good news and bad news" said Moira as she reappeared from the back,
"Bad news is, I don't have everything you need right now. Good news is, I am expecting supplies to arrive sometime tomorrow morning, so with a little luck you will get what you need, provided you aren't in a hurry."
"Oh, no hurry, no hurry at all. It would appear that I will be staying here for a day or two, anyway. I'll come back tomorrow, then." and turning to the Sheriff, "I'll see to it that I check things out as soon as I am able. Goodnight."
---
Night was starting to fall as Jonathan made went on his way, to where, he wasn't quite certain. He had rather conflicted feelings about how he would approach the situation, uncertain as to how he would deal with the Blamco Heiress and Lucy Black. Too many things had happened in too little time today, and he felt that he needed some time to wind down, to fully digest and accept what had transpired. And if he was with Kristin...
He could see the doctor's place well enough now. The bomb aswell. He was faced with a predicament: He could go ahead and examine the bomb now, but he said that he would go to the doctor soon enough, and he felt guilty to go back on his word.
He stared at clinic. He thought of facing Kristin again. He remember the pain reflected in her eyes as she gave him that stare. The hatred in her voice as she made her hatred of the Enclave and him clear to the guard and his wife.
He had dragged her into something that by all rights she shouldn't have been dragged into. And in doing so he had caused her pain, along with the promise of more pain to come.
[small]"Wanna help people? Get the FUCK away from them!"[/small]
The clinic would have to wait. Jonathan had a bomb to examine. But first, first he would have to deal with the mob of worshippers surrounding it.
