Echoes of Bedlam- Chapter 1a
Title: Echoes of Bedlam
Author: thecrncmeltodown (OR, the Chronic Meltdown)
Pairings: Faberry, Brittana. Brief Quick, vague Finchel.
Rating: PG-13 for this part.
Length: 5,670.
Echoes of Bedlam
Chapter 1: Ashes
“Ring around the rosie,
A pocketful of posies,
Ashes, ashes,
We all fall down.”
-An old English nursery rhyme (of questionable origins)
Quinn Fabray was less than three days old when stories of a young man began to float through the radio. Her sister was nearing eight.
They called him the Lone Wanderer, and gave no other details as to whom he was, or what he looked like. They only told of his deeds, of his noble quest to find his father, of the people he helped and saved along the way. She was nearly two when he helped purify the wasteland water, and had been halfway through four when the first shipments of Aqua Pura arrived on her town’s metaphorical doorstep. She still remembers the expression on her father’s face as he’d made out the small regiment of Brotherhood soldiers who were escorting the consignment; his face twisted into something that had been a strange mix of irritation and delight.
She remembers that the mutated cattle, the so-called brahmin, carrying the cargo had been thirsty. She remembers having found them a little cute, despite their two heads (each) and all the drool, because she’d never seen any before. Then again, she’d never seen a lot of things before, including Brotherhood soldiers. Those whom she saw there had held their large guns high up in the air, so that they’d glinted in the sunlight. They’d been menacing and reassuring at the same time, and she’d felt safe with them, despite the obvious threats spelled out in their postures.
“Don’t mess with us, and we won’t mess with you. Help us, and we’ll help you.”
Still, the moment is engraved into her memory, not because of this, but because it was the first moment in which she noticed that something was a little off, in her environment. That her situation was a little…odd. That her town had a very… strange reputation. She remembers that the expression on the lead soldier’s face as he chatted with her father, as they struck deals and shook hands, and made mutual requests, had been cautious, and maybe a little insecure.
She recalls because she’d been holding onto her father’s leg all the while. If she hadn’t been, she would probably never have noticed.
If she hadn’t been, she probably would have remained as indoctrinated as everyone else in Andale.
But she’d been there, and she’d witnessed the conversation, and she’d noticed, because she is, and was, and will always be, nothing if not intelligent.
“Well, hey there, and welcome to Andale, the best town yet alive in the USA.” her father had greeted, with a handsome smile, winning posture, and classic Fabray charm.
The other soldiers relaxed a little, in their stances, but the leader only tilted his head, clearly wary, and evidently skeptical.
“So I’ve heard.” he’d said a little dryly, glancing briefly at Quinn before shifting slightly so that his gun no longer pointed straight in their direction. “But I’m afraid I’ve also heard other things about this place, as well. Rumors. Are you aware that your town has a reputation?”
“Really?”
Quinn Fabray, at that point in her life, had never heard her father’s voice grow so darkly curious. There had been a strange tilt to his mouth, and something murky within his eyes, and it had made her press a little closer to him, seeking the comfort of familiarity. But he was like a stranger, to her. Sometime during those few seconds, he’d become a stranger to her.
The soldier seemed to clue in to her discomfort.
“Yes.” he continued tentatively, face hardening as he gazed down at her, and Quinn remembers having taken a step back in order to hide behind her father’s leg. “People say that those who walk in this direction never return.”
Russell Fabray shrugged, all amiable speculation.
“There are terrible beasts around us, I’m afraid.” he replied, “Terrible beasts. Either way, hardly anyone passes through here, though I can’t understand why. We’re a perfectly hospitable group of people.”
That had been a lie. People seemed to pass through there all the time. Small groups of raiders, weary wasteland wanderers seeking refuge, trade caravans…People passed through there all the time. She didn’t understand why her father was lying to them. But even then, she’d had the sense to keep her mouth shut.
The captain didn’t seem to believe him.
“Is that so?” the captain asked, pursing his lips, almost as though suspicious.
Her father smiled earnestly. “Of course. But then, it shouldn’t surprise me that people hardly pass through here if there are those sorts of rumors around.” He frowned. “It’s a pity, though. We love meeting new people.”
(Which was true, she supposed, because they really did enjoy meeting new people. She, in particular, derived joy from it. The Smiths next door were nice and everything, but she was tired of them, and her family was, well, her family, so she’d known them all her life and they were pretty much all the same. It was always a thrill when someone new walked into town. Her neighbors always extended an invitation for dinner to the strangers, but, though they often accepted, it seemed that they always left, for some reason or another, before fulfilling their engagements. Every time, Quinn was left with a feeling of intense disappointment as she sat at the dinner table. Every time, her sister would make faces at her to try and cheer her up. Most of the time, she’d succeed.
This is one thing that still hasn’t changed. Amelia (“Millie”) Fabray still loves to make her laugh.)
Quinn wondered why her father was lying. After all, he’d always taught her that it was a sin.
Russell stepped aside, gently dragging her with him. “Come in and see for yourself, then, stranger.” He eyed the shipment behind the soldiers curiously, as though considering something. “I’m in possession of a radio, and have been made aware of the Aqua Pura situation. Would you be willing to strike a bargain? I’d rather not expose my children to any more radiation…”
The captain nodded and stretched out his hand. “That’s what I’ve come here to talk about.”
Her father shook it.
From then on, a batch of purified water was delivered to them roughly every two weeks. Every two weeks, the Brotherhood soldiers would come marching in, and every two weeks, they would politely refuse her parents’ invitations to stay with them for dinner. They would watch warily as Elijah Smith and her father unloaded the batches, and would carry on in their journey as soon as they deemed possible.
Every time they left, she was reminded of that first soldier’s words.
“Are you aware that your town has a reputation?”
Whenever she remembered them, it was like she’d swallowed a cup of oil. Her insides felt greasy and she desperately wanted to throw up.
-o-
“Daddy, why do I have to marry Jimmy when I grow up?”
“Because, sweetheart, that’s what you have to do to keep this family going. Nothing’s more important than family, beautiful girl.”
“But I don’t like him. He’s mean. He keeps kicking my doll.”
“That’s just his way of showing you he likes you. Boys tease the girls they like, Quinnie.”
“Well, that’s stupid. I’m not marrying him.”
“You’ll change your mind eventually, Quinn.”
“No, I won’t! I never will.”
“We’ll see, sweetheart. We’ll see.”
-o-
Once, when she was nearly nine, a young mother and her little girl walked into town.
Quinn was thrilled. The other child was close to her in age, and though she was a little younger, she was willing to put up with it, if only because her sister, already sixteen, was beginning to spend less and less time with her and more and more time with John, the eldest of the three Smith children. Truth be told, she was excited because there weren’t many other kids in Andale. The ones who were there, namely her sister Amelia, their day-dreaming cousin Phoebe, John, that annoying and obnoxious Jimmy Smith, and the baby, Harry, either weren’t interested in spending time with her or bored the living daylights out of her. Or, well, generally irritated her past the point of reason.
She was tired of spending time with the same people. When visitors came, no one ever stayed longer than one or two days. So when the mother and daughter appeared on the horizon, their clothes torn and bloody, it was she who ran inside to find her parents.
She ran merrily past Amelia and her stupid boyfriend John and made her way into the kitchen, where her parents were having a rather heated conversation. It made her pause, for a few seconds, before she shook her head and ignored it, and decided that either way, this was news they needed to hear, and that it would be best for them to focus on something else at the current time.
“Mom,” she said, tugging at the woman’s sun-worn blouse, “There are strangers walking into town.”
Her mother, Judy, set her half-filled glass on the table. An old bottle of vodka sat across from it, on the kitchen countertop. The room was dim with the poorly admitted light from filthy windows. Her father gazed down at her disapprovingly.
“How many times have I told you not to walk around barefooted? This floor is disgusting.” He glared at her mother accusingly, and it made her shift back, a little. “Damn it, Judy, stop drinking and start helping out around here. We need to clean this place up.”
“Get me the materials necessary and then we’ll talk.” her mother muttered, before appearing to think better of it and grabbing the glass again.
She downed the whole thing.
The motion made her father scowl. Quinn acted quickly and took his hand in both her own, trying to tug him away before things got violent. “I’ll put on my shoes now, Daddy, but please, there’re strangers.”
This made him pause, as though he hadn’t heard her the first time. “Strangers?”
She nodded and he tilted his head in response, his expression contemplative. His hair had been beginning to recede, then. He gazed at her for a few seconds before smiling and reaching out to caress the tip of her chin, as though proud.
Oddly enough, it had not made her feel comfortable, that time. The caring gesture.
Still, she had returned the smile with a crooked grin, as she ignored the feeling in favor of the excitement she felt at the thought of making an actual friend. That other little girl, with her hair in braids, who’d been dragging a teddy bear across the ground. Quinn wondered if she also liked to play with dolls.
“Let’s go welcome them, then, shall we, Quinnie?”
She nodded and followed him outside, oblivious to her sister’s curious glances.
They found the woman and her child speaking with Elijah, the tall man with now-gray hair whom Quinn had known since birth. He had a kind face, if a little unshaven, and he had a way with words when speaking. His children had inherited neither of those things.
She realized that it was unfair of her to make such assumptions. For all she knew, Baby Harry may have escaped his brothers’ fates. He was so little that it was impossible to know for sure.
They approached the small group at a friendly pace, Quinn skipping happily towards the other little girl, who only drew closer to her mother. The woman’s clothing was bloody, and had the little blonde Fabray not thought it normal, she would have been a little more tactful in her advance. However, since she was so used to seeing her father and uncle (not to mention the other, older Smiths) with bloody clothing, the only thing stopping her from running towards them was her father’s hand on her shoulder. It squeezed her a little, becoming almost painful when she became too uproarious.
It was the only thing that held her back from saying anything to the other, cowering child, once they were standing beside them.
Russell Fabray tilted his head in concern. “Are you lot okay?”
(Back then, it had not been entirely obvious to her that her father had many faces for different people. Actually, back then, it had not been apparent to her that her whole family was the same way, and that she hadn’t been born an exception.)
Elijah Smith shook his head with a grim expression. “They were attacked by a group of raiders. They managed to escape through sheer luck. Snuck around some cliffs and miraculously avoided those goddamned mutant crabs.”
Quinn blinked up at the man, shocked that he would be willing to say the Lord’s name in vain. She looked up at her father, unsure of how he would react, because he’d always been very strict with them about those things at home. What she found, though, surprised her. He was not angry. Instead, he was halfway toward delighted.
But then the expression rapidly shifted into one of pity, and the youngest Fabray thought that she had maybe imagined it. (She hadn’t. It would take her years to figure out why, but she hadn’t.)
The event left her confused.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am.” he said earnestly, turning on that particular Fabray charm that always seemed to put people at ease. “Can we offer you a place to stay, at least for the night?”
Quinn was promptly distracted and overjoyed. “Really, Daddy?”
He looked down at her from out the corner of his eye. “Hush, now, sweetheart.”
She quickly directed her gaze at the ground, but couldn’t help glancing up every few seconds to meet the other little girl’s wide, almost tearful blue eyes. She felt bad for her, like she should maybe try to cheer her up or distract her in some way, somehow.
The mother swallowed and forced out a choked, “Yes. Please.”
Immediately, Russell met Elijah’s eyes.
At that moment, it was as though they were conversing, wiring each other messages through some warped form of telepathy. For a reason she did not understand, she remembered that occasion, four years prior, in which that first soldier had made a deal with her father.
“Are you aware that your town has a reputation?”
She suddenly felt nauseous. As Elijah spoke, she felt nauseous under the weight of her father’s hand.
“Then, let us show you around.”
The faded echo of a bedtime prayer reverberates inside her head, drilling into her with all the force of a jackhammer.
“Now I lay me down to sleep…”
Her father looked at her, again. “Do you want to show Beth your toys?”
The other girl gazed at her with the eyes of a little lost lamb.
“I pray the Lord my soul to keep.”
“Quinn?” he shook her, not too roughly, but not gently, either. “Are you all right?”
“If I should die before I wake…”
“Yes,” she said, abruptly, before smiling, beaming falsely at her father, at the girl’s mother, at the girl herself; her insides were shaken, like a scoop of jello. “Yes, I want to show her.”
Russell smiled at her. “I’m proud of you, Quinnie.”
The youngest Fabray stepped away from him, quickly, with all the grace of a newborn foal. Her smile was shaky. Her eyes were somewhat wild. Somewhere along the lines, she had broken out into a cold sweat.
“Come on.” she said to the girl, feeling somehow urgent. She took her hand. “Come with me.”
As the girl reluctantly followed her away and towards the house, Quinn heard the mother say, “I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.”
She looked over her shoulder to find the two men leading her away and towards the shed no one except the adults were allowed in. Her heart pounded in her chest. She wondered if they had an extra bed there.
“I pray the Lord my soul to take.”
-o-
“Millie…why can’t we go in the basement?”
Her sister had shrugged.
“I don’t know, and honestly, I don’t really care.”
“But what do you think is there?”
She’d rolled her eyes. “I don’t know, Quinn. But everyone has secrets.”
The little blonde had been fairly offended. “I don’t have secrets. I tell you everything.”
At fourteen, Amelia had tilted her head and looked at her, a strange expression on her face.
“Someday, you’ll have them. Just you wait…”
-o-
It was late in the evening when the knock came at her door. She and Beth had been playing for a good, long while, and in that time, Quinn had learned several things.
For one thing, brahmin were not the only animals out in the wastes. There were also mirelurk, giant mutant crabs with claws so sharp they could chop a human arm in half with a single swipe. There were Yao Guai, a species of mutated black bears. There were Deathclaw, which Beth could not describe in detail, but which sounded fearsome either way, and were, she was assured, extremely dangerous. There were mole rats, which were a type of giant rodent that could sink their teeth into a person and take out chunks of meat at a time (though that supposedly rarely ever happened anymore, since someone had invented repellent sticks to both drive them away and kill them). There were vicious dogs in the wasteland as well, and still other dogs who remained strangely unaffected by the radiation all throughout these years, and served as companions.
The little girl told her of the raiders, of how terrible and sadistic they were, of the people in Megaton, the large settlement to the northeast of Andale. She told her of her home in a place called Big Town, and how they’d been travelling to Tenpenny Tower to move in with her father, who had found them a better home, there.
And to all of this, Quinn listened with rapt attention. She was captivated by the tales of adventure, by the danger and beauty of the world outside, to which she had never been exposed. Sometimes her father would take her past the broken bridge at the foot of Andale’s metaphorical doorstep, and it would be pretty, but he’d never let her walk down the path alone because he said there were dangerous animals. It was forbidden, and Quinn never went, always the good little girl.
When she admitted that she didn’t know of the places Beth mentioned, the other girl frowned. She appeared to want to explain everything properly, but wasn’t sure how.
“My daddy says there’s lots of people in Tenpenny…and…an’ these things called Ghouls.”
“Ghouls?” Quinn repeated, and the word tasted funny on her tongue. She didn’t think she’d ever heard it before. “What are they?”
“Daddy says they’re people who were…” Beth thought about it for a moment, before continuing, “…he said they’re people who was messed up by…by the bombs.”
The blonde very briefly thought about correcting her grammatically, like her father taught her to do, but the other girl was only seven, so she thought she could spare her. (Back then, she thought the age difference was huge. And, in a way, she supposes it had been.)
“But my Dad says the bombs fell years ago.” She tilted her head and watched as the other girl shrugged in response.
“I don’t get it, either.”
She had just been about to open her mouth, in order to reply (to say how much she thought adults were kind of stupid), when there was a knock on the door. Russell Fabray entered after a moment, with Amelia in tow, only a few feet behind him.
“How are you girls doing?”
Millie’s eyes met Quinn’s through the open doorway. They seemed dark, troubled, even though her face was expressionless. It made the youngest Fabray uneasy.
“We’re fine, Daddy.” she replied, forcing herself to remain cheery, if only to spare Beth the concern. “We were just talking about Ghouls.”
Her father frowned in a display of genuine disgust. He made a face. “Why would you want to talk about such a horrid topic? Those people are abominations.”
Beside her, Beth scrunched up her face in confusion. “What’s an aboni…abobi…abonimation?”
Russell sighed and kneeled down, looking them each in the eye. “They are impervious to the Lord’s will. God…” he said softly, “…quite hates them.”
“He…he does?” Quinn asked, suddenly afraid.
God hates things? God hates people? What if God hated her? But she’d been a good girl, right? Why would God hate her? Right?
“Yes, he does.” Her father affirmed, before raising his hand to pet the top of her head. He leaned forward and kissed her temple, before tipping back and rising to his feet. “Now, I’m sorry, sweetheart, but Beth needs to go to her mother. It’s getting late.”
She pouted before she knew what she was doing. Disappointment crashed into her in waves that got progressively worse as the seconds went by.
“Really?” Beth asked, sound as let down as she felt.
Her father smiled down at her, almost benevolently. “I’m sorry, dear, but your mother wants to see you. You can come over tomorrow, though, if you’d like.”
The other little girl beamed, dark curls bouncing as she rose to her feet. Quinn followed her example. She’d been about to follow them downstairs when her father glanced over his shoulder and saw her.
“No, no.” he chastised, “You stay here, Quinnie. I want you in bed, now.”
The youngest Fabray scowled. “But Daddy, I-”
Amelia -whom Quinn had actually completely forgotten about - took hold of her shoulder in an almost vice-like grip. She cried out before she was able to stop herself, which made Beth pause on the steps. “Let go, Millie!” she complained bitterly, “That hurts!”
Her older sister only tugged her back. “Come on, Quinn.”
“But I want to say goodnight!”
Russell’s expression darkened, a little, though he remained perfectly amiable. “Quinn…” he said lightly, his tone almost playful in warning.
“Daddy,” she began to protest, but was interrupted when Beth bounced over to her and grinned, her face flushed and happy. She was a really rather pretty little girl, with her bright blue eyes and dimples.
That, for some reason, made her happy, too.
“It’s okay.” the younger girl said, earnestly, “We can play some more tomorrow.”
Then she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Quinn’s middle. Startled but bordering on ecstatic, because, really, she’d made her first real friend, the older child hugged her back. When they separated, Beth’s eyes were bright and shiny, and more than a little wet.
“Thanks,” she whispered softly, voice wavering with emotion, “for being my friend today.”
Warmth bloomed in her chest, swifter than any summoned thing. Usually, she wouldn’t be such an utter sap, but for some reason that she didn’t understand, she felt like crying.
“I’ll be your friend any day.” she promised adamantly, before she was tugged backwards yet again by her sister.
She watched forlornly as her newfound friend skipped down the stairs and made her way to the front door. Before she walked outside, though, the girl turned around and, with a gorgeous, dimpled smile, waved goodbye.
“See you in the morning!” she cried excitedly, and Quinn could not help but wave back.
“Bye, Beth!” she replied, and the door fell shut, hiding them from view.
Emotion welled up in her own throat. She was just so happy.
When she turned around to face her sister, though, the feelings evaporated. The older girl was looking at her with an expression she did not understand. That old, unspeakable, unutterable fear returned to her, stealing across her heart.
“Are you aware that your town-?”
“What’s wrong, Millie?” she asked quietly, suddenly somehow afraid of speaking loudly.
Her sister’s hand left her shoulder, fell to flutter above her wrist, as though uncertain. Then Amelia swallowed dryly and grabbed her hand, pulling her back inside their room.
For the first time since she could remember, her older sister locked their door behind them.
“Millie…?” she breathed out, because she was quite honestly frightened, because there was something in Amelia’s eyes that made her insides squirm, because she had no idea what was going on, but was certain that something was going on, and that she was, somehow, supposed to stop it.
But her sister only propped up the pillows on her bed and went to rest against them, before parting her legs and patting the empty spot between them. It was a silent invitation to take her traditional place, a silent invitation to forget, and simply lie back against her chest, to lean against Millie’s shoulder, as she always used to when they were younger and the older girl wanted to read out loud to them. It was her secret place of comfort. It was-
“Come here, Quinn.”
She obeyed.
(Eyes like a lost little lamb’s, and that reminds her of an old nursery rhyme her mother used to sing her [Bah, bah, black sheep, have you any wool?], reminds her of things long forgotten and left abandoned in memories now distant, childhood memories she cannot, for the life of her, recall. And-)
“Nothing’s wrong, Quinn.”
Arms looped around her neck. Amelia’s head dropped down to rest along her shoulder. In the silence of the night, she breathed against her skin in a way that was almost troubled.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
-o-
“What’s wrong, Millie?”
Her sister looked at her. She smiled. Her hazel eyes glinted in the sunlight as the shadows of the clouds moved on overhead.
“Promise me you’ll be a little kid forever, Quinn."
Part 2
Author: thecrncmeltodown (OR, the Chronic Meltdown)
Pairings: Faberry, Brittana. Brief Quick, vague Finchel.
Rating: PG-13 for this part.
Length: 5,670.
Echoes of Bedlam
Chapter 1: Ashes
“Ring around the rosie,
A pocketful of posies,
Ashes, ashes,
We all fall down.”
-An old English nursery rhyme (of questionable origins)
Quinn Fabray was less than three days old when stories of a young man began to float through the radio. Her sister was nearing eight.
They called him the Lone Wanderer, and gave no other details as to whom he was, or what he looked like. They only told of his deeds, of his noble quest to find his father, of the people he helped and saved along the way. She was nearly two when he helped purify the wasteland water, and had been halfway through four when the first shipments of Aqua Pura arrived on her town’s metaphorical doorstep. She still remembers the expression on her father’s face as he’d made out the small regiment of Brotherhood soldiers who were escorting the consignment; his face twisted into something that had been a strange mix of irritation and delight.
She remembers that the mutated cattle, the so-called brahmin, carrying the cargo had been thirsty. She remembers having found them a little cute, despite their two heads (each) and all the drool, because she’d never seen any before. Then again, she’d never seen a lot of things before, including Brotherhood soldiers. Those whom she saw there had held their large guns high up in the air, so that they’d glinted in the sunlight. They’d been menacing and reassuring at the same time, and she’d felt safe with them, despite the obvious threats spelled out in their postures.
“Don’t mess with us, and we won’t mess with you. Help us, and we’ll help you.”
Still, the moment is engraved into her memory, not because of this, but because it was the first moment in which she noticed that something was a little off, in her environment. That her situation was a little…odd. That her town had a very… strange reputation. She remembers that the expression on the lead soldier’s face as he chatted with her father, as they struck deals and shook hands, and made mutual requests, had been cautious, and maybe a little insecure.
She recalls because she’d been holding onto her father’s leg all the while. If she hadn’t been, she would probably never have noticed.
If she hadn’t been, she probably would have remained as indoctrinated as everyone else in Andale.
But she’d been there, and she’d witnessed the conversation, and she’d noticed, because she is, and was, and will always be, nothing if not intelligent.
“Well, hey there, and welcome to Andale, the best town yet alive in the USA.” her father had greeted, with a handsome smile, winning posture, and classic Fabray charm.
The other soldiers relaxed a little, in their stances, but the leader only tilted his head, clearly wary, and evidently skeptical.
“So I’ve heard.” he’d said a little dryly, glancing briefly at Quinn before shifting slightly so that his gun no longer pointed straight in their direction. “But I’m afraid I’ve also heard other things about this place, as well. Rumors. Are you aware that your town has a reputation?”
“Really?”
Quinn Fabray, at that point in her life, had never heard her father’s voice grow so darkly curious. There had been a strange tilt to his mouth, and something murky within his eyes, and it had made her press a little closer to him, seeking the comfort of familiarity. But he was like a stranger, to her. Sometime during those few seconds, he’d become a stranger to her.
The soldier seemed to clue in to her discomfort.
“Yes.” he continued tentatively, face hardening as he gazed down at her, and Quinn remembers having taken a step back in order to hide behind her father’s leg. “People say that those who walk in this direction never return.”
Russell Fabray shrugged, all amiable speculation.
“There are terrible beasts around us, I’m afraid.” he replied, “Terrible beasts. Either way, hardly anyone passes through here, though I can’t understand why. We’re a perfectly hospitable group of people.”
That had been a lie. People seemed to pass through there all the time. Small groups of raiders, weary wasteland wanderers seeking refuge, trade caravans…People passed through there all the time. She didn’t understand why her father was lying to them. But even then, she’d had the sense to keep her mouth shut.
The captain didn’t seem to believe him.
“Is that so?” the captain asked, pursing his lips, almost as though suspicious.
Her father smiled earnestly. “Of course. But then, it shouldn’t surprise me that people hardly pass through here if there are those sorts of rumors around.” He frowned. “It’s a pity, though. We love meeting new people.”
(Which was true, she supposed, because they really did enjoy meeting new people. She, in particular, derived joy from it. The Smiths next door were nice and everything, but she was tired of them, and her family was, well, her family, so she’d known them all her life and they were pretty much all the same. It was always a thrill when someone new walked into town. Her neighbors always extended an invitation for dinner to the strangers, but, though they often accepted, it seemed that they always left, for some reason or another, before fulfilling their engagements. Every time, Quinn was left with a feeling of intense disappointment as she sat at the dinner table. Every time, her sister would make faces at her to try and cheer her up. Most of the time, she’d succeed.
This is one thing that still hasn’t changed. Amelia (“Millie”) Fabray still loves to make her laugh.)
Quinn wondered why her father was lying. After all, he’d always taught her that it was a sin.
Russell stepped aside, gently dragging her with him. “Come in and see for yourself, then, stranger.” He eyed the shipment behind the soldiers curiously, as though considering something. “I’m in possession of a radio, and have been made aware of the Aqua Pura situation. Would you be willing to strike a bargain? I’d rather not expose my children to any more radiation…”
The captain nodded and stretched out his hand. “That’s what I’ve come here to talk about.”
Her father shook it.
From then on, a batch of purified water was delivered to them roughly every two weeks. Every two weeks, the Brotherhood soldiers would come marching in, and every two weeks, they would politely refuse her parents’ invitations to stay with them for dinner. They would watch warily as Elijah Smith and her father unloaded the batches, and would carry on in their journey as soon as they deemed possible.
Every time they left, she was reminded of that first soldier’s words.
“Are you aware that your town has a reputation?”
Whenever she remembered them, it was like she’d swallowed a cup of oil. Her insides felt greasy and she desperately wanted to throw up.
-o-
“Daddy, why do I have to marry Jimmy when I grow up?”
“Because, sweetheart, that’s what you have to do to keep this family going. Nothing’s more important than family, beautiful girl.”
“But I don’t like him. He’s mean. He keeps kicking my doll.”
“That’s just his way of showing you he likes you. Boys tease the girls they like, Quinnie.”
“Well, that’s stupid. I’m not marrying him.”
“You’ll change your mind eventually, Quinn.”
“No, I won’t! I never will.”
“We’ll see, sweetheart. We’ll see.”
-o-
Once, when she was nearly nine, a young mother and her little girl walked into town.
Quinn was thrilled. The other child was close to her in age, and though she was a little younger, she was willing to put up with it, if only because her sister, already sixteen, was beginning to spend less and less time with her and more and more time with John, the eldest of the three Smith children. Truth be told, she was excited because there weren’t many other kids in Andale. The ones who were there, namely her sister Amelia, their day-dreaming cousin Phoebe, John, that annoying and obnoxious Jimmy Smith, and the baby, Harry, either weren’t interested in spending time with her or bored the living daylights out of her. Or, well, generally irritated her past the point of reason.
She was tired of spending time with the same people. When visitors came, no one ever stayed longer than one or two days. So when the mother and daughter appeared on the horizon, their clothes torn and bloody, it was she who ran inside to find her parents.
She ran merrily past Amelia and her stupid boyfriend John and made her way into the kitchen, where her parents were having a rather heated conversation. It made her pause, for a few seconds, before she shook her head and ignored it, and decided that either way, this was news they needed to hear, and that it would be best for them to focus on something else at the current time.
“Mom,” she said, tugging at the woman’s sun-worn blouse, “There are strangers walking into town.”
Her mother, Judy, set her half-filled glass on the table. An old bottle of vodka sat across from it, on the kitchen countertop. The room was dim with the poorly admitted light from filthy windows. Her father gazed down at her disapprovingly.
“How many times have I told you not to walk around barefooted? This floor is disgusting.” He glared at her mother accusingly, and it made her shift back, a little. “Damn it, Judy, stop drinking and start helping out around here. We need to clean this place up.”
“Get me the materials necessary and then we’ll talk.” her mother muttered, before appearing to think better of it and grabbing the glass again.
She downed the whole thing.
The motion made her father scowl. Quinn acted quickly and took his hand in both her own, trying to tug him away before things got violent. “I’ll put on my shoes now, Daddy, but please, there’re strangers.”
This made him pause, as though he hadn’t heard her the first time. “Strangers?”
She nodded and he tilted his head in response, his expression contemplative. His hair had been beginning to recede, then. He gazed at her for a few seconds before smiling and reaching out to caress the tip of her chin, as though proud.
Oddly enough, it had not made her feel comfortable, that time. The caring gesture.
Still, she had returned the smile with a crooked grin, as she ignored the feeling in favor of the excitement she felt at the thought of making an actual friend. That other little girl, with her hair in braids, who’d been dragging a teddy bear across the ground. Quinn wondered if she also liked to play with dolls.
“Let’s go welcome them, then, shall we, Quinnie?”
She nodded and followed him outside, oblivious to her sister’s curious glances.
They found the woman and her child speaking with Elijah, the tall man with now-gray hair whom Quinn had known since birth. He had a kind face, if a little unshaven, and he had a way with words when speaking. His children had inherited neither of those things.
She realized that it was unfair of her to make such assumptions. For all she knew, Baby Harry may have escaped his brothers’ fates. He was so little that it was impossible to know for sure.
They approached the small group at a friendly pace, Quinn skipping happily towards the other little girl, who only drew closer to her mother. The woman’s clothing was bloody, and had the little blonde Fabray not thought it normal, she would have been a little more tactful in her advance. However, since she was so used to seeing her father and uncle (not to mention the other, older Smiths) with bloody clothing, the only thing stopping her from running towards them was her father’s hand on her shoulder. It squeezed her a little, becoming almost painful when she became too uproarious.
It was the only thing that held her back from saying anything to the other, cowering child, once they were standing beside them.
Russell Fabray tilted his head in concern. “Are you lot okay?”
(Back then, it had not been entirely obvious to her that her father had many faces for different people. Actually, back then, it had not been apparent to her that her whole family was the same way, and that she hadn’t been born an exception.)
Elijah Smith shook his head with a grim expression. “They were attacked by a group of raiders. They managed to escape through sheer luck. Snuck around some cliffs and miraculously avoided those goddamned mutant crabs.”
Quinn blinked up at the man, shocked that he would be willing to say the Lord’s name in vain. She looked up at her father, unsure of how he would react, because he’d always been very strict with them about those things at home. What she found, though, surprised her. He was not angry. Instead, he was halfway toward delighted.
But then the expression rapidly shifted into one of pity, and the youngest Fabray thought that she had maybe imagined it. (She hadn’t. It would take her years to figure out why, but she hadn’t.)
The event left her confused.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am.” he said earnestly, turning on that particular Fabray charm that always seemed to put people at ease. “Can we offer you a place to stay, at least for the night?”
Quinn was promptly distracted and overjoyed. “Really, Daddy?”
He looked down at her from out the corner of his eye. “Hush, now, sweetheart.”
She quickly directed her gaze at the ground, but couldn’t help glancing up every few seconds to meet the other little girl’s wide, almost tearful blue eyes. She felt bad for her, like she should maybe try to cheer her up or distract her in some way, somehow.
The mother swallowed and forced out a choked, “Yes. Please.”
Immediately, Russell met Elijah’s eyes.
At that moment, it was as though they were conversing, wiring each other messages through some warped form of telepathy. For a reason she did not understand, she remembered that occasion, four years prior, in which that first soldier had made a deal with her father.
“Are you aware that your town has a reputation?”
She suddenly felt nauseous. As Elijah spoke, she felt nauseous under the weight of her father’s hand.
“Then, let us show you around.”
The faded echo of a bedtime prayer reverberates inside her head, drilling into her with all the force of a jackhammer.
“Now I lay me down to sleep…”
Her father looked at her, again. “Do you want to show Beth your toys?”
The other girl gazed at her with the eyes of a little lost lamb.
“I pray the Lord my soul to keep.”
“Quinn?” he shook her, not too roughly, but not gently, either. “Are you all right?”
“If I should die before I wake…”
“Yes,” she said, abruptly, before smiling, beaming falsely at her father, at the girl’s mother, at the girl herself; her insides were shaken, like a scoop of jello. “Yes, I want to show her.”
Russell smiled at her. “I’m proud of you, Quinnie.”
The youngest Fabray stepped away from him, quickly, with all the grace of a newborn foal. Her smile was shaky. Her eyes were somewhat wild. Somewhere along the lines, she had broken out into a cold sweat.
“Come on.” she said to the girl, feeling somehow urgent. She took her hand. “Come with me.”
As the girl reluctantly followed her away and towards the house, Quinn heard the mother say, “I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.”
She looked over her shoulder to find the two men leading her away and towards the shed no one except the adults were allowed in. Her heart pounded in her chest. She wondered if they had an extra bed there.
“I pray the Lord my soul to take.”
-o-
“Millie…why can’t we go in the basement?”
Her sister had shrugged.
“I don’t know, and honestly, I don’t really care.”
“But what do you think is there?”
She’d rolled her eyes. “I don’t know, Quinn. But everyone has secrets.”
The little blonde had been fairly offended. “I don’t have secrets. I tell you everything.”
At fourteen, Amelia had tilted her head and looked at her, a strange expression on her face.
“Someday, you’ll have them. Just you wait…”
-o-
It was late in the evening when the knock came at her door. She and Beth had been playing for a good, long while, and in that time, Quinn had learned several things.
For one thing, brahmin were not the only animals out in the wastes. There were also mirelurk, giant mutant crabs with claws so sharp they could chop a human arm in half with a single swipe. There were Yao Guai, a species of mutated black bears. There were Deathclaw, which Beth could not describe in detail, but which sounded fearsome either way, and were, she was assured, extremely dangerous. There were mole rats, which were a type of giant rodent that could sink their teeth into a person and take out chunks of meat at a time (though that supposedly rarely ever happened anymore, since someone had invented repellent sticks to both drive them away and kill them). There were vicious dogs in the wasteland as well, and still other dogs who remained strangely unaffected by the radiation all throughout these years, and served as companions.
The little girl told her of the raiders, of how terrible and sadistic they were, of the people in Megaton, the large settlement to the northeast of Andale. She told her of her home in a place called Big Town, and how they’d been travelling to Tenpenny Tower to move in with her father, who had found them a better home, there.
And to all of this, Quinn listened with rapt attention. She was captivated by the tales of adventure, by the danger and beauty of the world outside, to which she had never been exposed. Sometimes her father would take her past the broken bridge at the foot of Andale’s metaphorical doorstep, and it would be pretty, but he’d never let her walk down the path alone because he said there were dangerous animals. It was forbidden, and Quinn never went, always the good little girl.
When she admitted that she didn’t know of the places Beth mentioned, the other girl frowned. She appeared to want to explain everything properly, but wasn’t sure how.
“My daddy says there’s lots of people in Tenpenny…and…an’ these things called Ghouls.”
“Ghouls?” Quinn repeated, and the word tasted funny on her tongue. She didn’t think she’d ever heard it before. “What are they?”
“Daddy says they’re people who were…” Beth thought about it for a moment, before continuing, “…he said they’re people who was messed up by…by the bombs.”
The blonde very briefly thought about correcting her grammatically, like her father taught her to do, but the other girl was only seven, so she thought she could spare her. (Back then, she thought the age difference was huge. And, in a way, she supposes it had been.)
“But my Dad says the bombs fell years ago.” She tilted her head and watched as the other girl shrugged in response.
“I don’t get it, either.”
She had just been about to open her mouth, in order to reply (to say how much she thought adults were kind of stupid), when there was a knock on the door. Russell Fabray entered after a moment, with Amelia in tow, only a few feet behind him.
“How are you girls doing?”
Millie’s eyes met Quinn’s through the open doorway. They seemed dark, troubled, even though her face was expressionless. It made the youngest Fabray uneasy.
“We’re fine, Daddy.” she replied, forcing herself to remain cheery, if only to spare Beth the concern. “We were just talking about Ghouls.”
Her father frowned in a display of genuine disgust. He made a face. “Why would you want to talk about such a horrid topic? Those people are abominations.”
Beside her, Beth scrunched up her face in confusion. “What’s an aboni…abobi…abonimation?”
Russell sighed and kneeled down, looking them each in the eye. “They are impervious to the Lord’s will. God…” he said softly, “…quite hates them.”
“He…he does?” Quinn asked, suddenly afraid.
God hates things? God hates people? What if God hated her? But she’d been a good girl, right? Why would God hate her? Right?
“Yes, he does.” Her father affirmed, before raising his hand to pet the top of her head. He leaned forward and kissed her temple, before tipping back and rising to his feet. “Now, I’m sorry, sweetheart, but Beth needs to go to her mother. It’s getting late.”
She pouted before she knew what she was doing. Disappointment crashed into her in waves that got progressively worse as the seconds went by.
“Really?” Beth asked, sound as let down as she felt.
Her father smiled down at her, almost benevolently. “I’m sorry, dear, but your mother wants to see you. You can come over tomorrow, though, if you’d like.”
The other little girl beamed, dark curls bouncing as she rose to her feet. Quinn followed her example. She’d been about to follow them downstairs when her father glanced over his shoulder and saw her.
“No, no.” he chastised, “You stay here, Quinnie. I want you in bed, now.”
The youngest Fabray scowled. “But Daddy, I-”
Amelia -whom Quinn had actually completely forgotten about - took hold of her shoulder in an almost vice-like grip. She cried out before she was able to stop herself, which made Beth pause on the steps. “Let go, Millie!” she complained bitterly, “That hurts!”
Her older sister only tugged her back. “Come on, Quinn.”
“But I want to say goodnight!”
Russell’s expression darkened, a little, though he remained perfectly amiable. “Quinn…” he said lightly, his tone almost playful in warning.
“Daddy,” she began to protest, but was interrupted when Beth bounced over to her and grinned, her face flushed and happy. She was a really rather pretty little girl, with her bright blue eyes and dimples.
That, for some reason, made her happy, too.
“It’s okay.” the younger girl said, earnestly, “We can play some more tomorrow.”
Then she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Quinn’s middle. Startled but bordering on ecstatic, because, really, she’d made her first real friend, the older child hugged her back. When they separated, Beth’s eyes were bright and shiny, and more than a little wet.
“Thanks,” she whispered softly, voice wavering with emotion, “for being my friend today.”
Warmth bloomed in her chest, swifter than any summoned thing. Usually, she wouldn’t be such an utter sap, but for some reason that she didn’t understand, she felt like crying.
“I’ll be your friend any day.” she promised adamantly, before she was tugged backwards yet again by her sister.
She watched forlornly as her newfound friend skipped down the stairs and made her way to the front door. Before she walked outside, though, the girl turned around and, with a gorgeous, dimpled smile, waved goodbye.
“See you in the morning!” she cried excitedly, and Quinn could not help but wave back.
“Bye, Beth!” she replied, and the door fell shut, hiding them from view.
Emotion welled up in her own throat. She was just so happy.
When she turned around to face her sister, though, the feelings evaporated. The older girl was looking at her with an expression she did not understand. That old, unspeakable, unutterable fear returned to her, stealing across her heart.
“Are you aware that your town-?”
“What’s wrong, Millie?” she asked quietly, suddenly somehow afraid of speaking loudly.
Her sister’s hand left her shoulder, fell to flutter above her wrist, as though uncertain. Then Amelia swallowed dryly and grabbed her hand, pulling her back inside their room.
For the first time since she could remember, her older sister locked their door behind them.
“Millie…?” she breathed out, because she was quite honestly frightened, because there was something in Amelia’s eyes that made her insides squirm, because she had no idea what was going on, but was certain that something was going on, and that she was, somehow, supposed to stop it.
But her sister only propped up the pillows on her bed and went to rest against them, before parting her legs and patting the empty spot between them. It was a silent invitation to take her traditional place, a silent invitation to forget, and simply lie back against her chest, to lean against Millie’s shoulder, as she always used to when they were younger and the older girl wanted to read out loud to them. It was her secret place of comfort. It was-
“Come here, Quinn.”
She obeyed.
(Eyes like a lost little lamb’s, and that reminds her of an old nursery rhyme her mother used to sing her [Bah, bah, black sheep, have you any wool?], reminds her of things long forgotten and left abandoned in memories now distant, childhood memories she cannot, for the life of her, recall. And-)
“Nothing’s wrong, Quinn.”
Arms looped around her neck. Amelia’s head dropped down to rest along her shoulder. In the silence of the night, she breathed against her skin in a way that was almost troubled.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
-o-
“What’s wrong, Millie?”
Her sister looked at her. She smiled. Her hazel eyes glinted in the sunlight as the shadows of the clouds moved on overhead.
“Promise me you’ll be a little kid forever, Quinn."
Part 2