A Good Night's Sleep

In all honesty Elle didn't know why she left. She felt like it was the right thing to do at the time, but now she was feeling like it wasn't. The walk back to the Statesman was a lonely one, and the roof of the golden hotel where she stayed was looking more comfortless with each passing hour.

Elle didn't sleep on the mattress she had set out there that late night, but instead watched the sun rise in a drunken stupor that would make her mind go blank any time now. With hazy eyes Elle scribbled something on a piece of paper she had torn from the back of a book, and drifted asleep in a chair.

Bigsley woke up at the crack of dawn. The little scribes he learned to hate were huddled around his office impatiently wondering where the man was. His footsteps could be heard coming down the hall in quick movements.

“Sir.” The woman meekly addressed. “Where have you been?”

The man completely ignored her, and took his seat at the desk. “What is it?” He asked when the Scribe forgot to leave him alone. The dark haired man regretted asking the question when it made her go into some problem about the people in Megaton not getting any Aqua Pura.

“I'm not sending them water when I've already sent it.” He said coldly. “We don't have enough resources to spare.”

Scribe Bigsley was so busy that day he had almost forgot about the one that had put him in such an almost good mood. The way she left bothered him, but he knew that Vaultie didn't know what to do. He kind of felt sorry for the kid. Bigsley didn't know the complete story of what had set her on this unimaginable quest for clean water, but he knew it was a sad one.

He made a mental note of trying to get Elle to talk about her mother, and the death of James. The Scribe was curious on how she felt about the whole thing. Or maybe it was something he just not delve too far into. It wouldn't be too nice of him to open up old wounds with someone he was actually beginning to like.

Whatever the case, Bigsley shook all the thoughts of Elle when a new stack of problems spewed forth from the mouths of his little Scribes.

“Shit. Fuck.” The young girl cracked open blue eyes to what looked like a noon sun. “Goddamn.” Her skull felt shattered. Elle tried licking at her lips, but found that her mouth was completely dry. Letting out another string of curses she searched for some not so empty bottles of booze.

Sifting through depleted whiskey bottles she found an innocent piece of paper.

“Apologize.” She whispered. “Fuck does that mean?” Elle casually tossed the torn paper to the ground.

Her eyes widened when she spotted a golden bottle, and took a gulp of it. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and coughed at the sudden rush of tingling liquid.

The Queen of Statesman looked around her rooftop paradise taking in her wondrous abode. She made a list inside her head of all the things she needed, alcohol being number one. Food second, and companionship last.

“What's this I hear about Megaton not getting water?”

Bigsley smelled the dry scent of Elle's favorite cigarettes.

“Tired?” She remarked with a smirk when he turned his head up from it's place on the keyboard.

“You look like shit.” Bigsley noted plainly.

“Thanks, dear. Now what is this about Megaton not getting water?”

Bigsley sighed. “I've sent a couple caravans already, and the people of Megaton are reporting they aren't receiving the water.”

“Sounds fishy.”

The way she made it sound like she was some sort of super detective sniffing out the trail of an extravagant case made him laugh.

“You're holding a bottle of Whiskey, and all you can say is 'sounds fishy?'”

Elle looked at the alcohol in her left hand, and took on a face of surprise. “Holy shit, man.”

Bigsley continued his laughing. The scribes outside his office utterly flabbergasted with what they were hearing. Their boss never laughed. Not even smiled for that matter.

“Listen, just be careful.” He warned getting up from his seat, and walking around his desk. The object of his affection leaned against the oak desk with an arrogant look. “And, stop smoking.”

He took the cigarette from her lips, and dropped it in her bottle of whiskey.

“I can handle little pissant raiders.” She answered his sincerity. The closeness of him sending a feeling of comfort. “I'll be fine.”

“Good.” He placed a kiss on her lips that she responded to feverishly.

“I'll be by tonight..” She trailed off, but was hit with sudden doubt. “Is that okay?”

“Why wouldn't it be?”

“I don't know. I'll be by tonight.” Elle tried to forget the foreign emotion of doubt, and went to find out all about Megaton's water problem.

Later that night the Lone Wanderer held true to her words of a visit.

So late, in fact, that Bigsley thought she forgot about the promise. The Scribe sneaked off to get some rest on that dusty old bed.

He was having a dream about all his paperwork turning into a giant monster and swallowing him whole. Needless to say having the Lone Wanderer wake him up with a soft knock on the door frame was a pleasant surprise.

“Why am I always finding you with your eyes closed?” She mumbled before throwing him a bottle of Vodka. “I got you something.”

Bigsley caught the tall bottle and eyed it up and down. He gave up the habit a few years back, but now was as good as time as any to pick it up again. It was refreshing to have the cool devil liquid tingle down his throat once more.

Elle sat on the edge of the bed with a hard sigh. A cigarette was missing between her fingers, and a dull cast of exasperation clawed at her face.

“You figure out what happened to the caravans?”

“Yeah.” She said.

“What happened?”

“I don't want to talk about it.” She muttered as she crawled next to him, and took the bottle from his hands. The Lone Wanderer took a gulp before handing the alcohol back to him. “How did you end up with this shit job, Big?”

“Scribe Rothchild has it out for me. That old wrinkled bastard.”

“I hate those fuckin' boy scouts.” Elle spat with disdain. “They can take Project Purity and shove it up their armored ass.”

The young woman's hatred for the Brotherhood of Steel started when her father died. It was her parent's dream that was passed down to her, and the Brotherhood came in and stole it from her. With every decision they made Elle was called upon to step up to the plate and bat away their problems.

She was the one who infiltrated the Enclave's Air Base. She was the one who conned President Eden into blowing up Raven Rock. The one and only who took back the Wasteland when the Brotherhood of Steel had no one else to do it. They were ungrateful metal, elitist beasts who rubbed Elle in all the wrong ways.

The whole time she felt like a lap dog who went off to do whatever they asked. Maybe it was all the drugs and violence that made the whole thing feel like one big psychedelic escapade, but somewhere along the line she turned into a bitter, pessimistic person who's conscience was a drowsy dope fiend.

“I don't like them anymore than you do.” Biglsey halfheartedly agreed. “Can I ask you.. What happened with your parents?”

“What do you mean?”

“You don't seem too enthusiastic about Project Purity.”

“That's because I'm not. Project Purity was the only thing I had going for me when I was spewed forth from the Vault.”

“That's an interesting way to put it.” Bigsley dead-panned. “What do you have going for you now?”

She thought for a moment. “Not a lot.” Was her answer to the pseudo-philosophical question.

Elle yawned, and stretched out her arms. “Can I sleep here?”

“Of course.”

Vaultie gave him a gracious kiss before turning her back, and wrapping the covers around her in all different ways. Bigsley stayed up a little longer to finish off the Vodka before closing his eyes and falling fast asleep.

The next day Elle spent her time in Megaton fixing the curious case of missing water without the usual violence. That night she spent it up in the Water Processing plant with Jericho, Silver, and Leo. The four spent all night doing all sorts of chems, and all getting “higher than a bird in flight,” as Moriarty would say. Who gave up the search for his bar maid the first day Elle stumbled into Megaton prompting Silver to stop in for the night.

“Maybe I should stagger into Moriarty's, and see what he's up to.” Elle laughed sitting on the floor against the tattered wall of the water plant.

“He's never treated me the same since then.” Leo sat in the chair examining the bottles of Buffout.

Silver was passed out on the floor next to Jericho who didn't look under the influence of anything at all. Which he was. Elle saw him use Psycho, and Jet. But, she couldn't see a change in his foul demeanor. Her eyes lazily looked him up and down before tackling him from her position against the wall.

She didn't feel comfortable with a straight person in the room. Who knows what kind of debauchery this man could cause if he was the only right one in the group. What kind of devious things could he do in a room full of junkies?

“Are you high?” She asked a little too loud for comfort.

Jericho struggled with the grasp she had on his collar. “What is your problem, Jones?”

Elle's death grip didn't cease as she shook Jericho, and yelled undecipherable words at him. She straddled his waist as Jericho tried shaking the manic woman off of him. Leo was as uninterested as ever. It was like if two flies were fucking on the wall in front of him. It wasn't appealing, but he still watched the act.

“Why didn't they work!?” Elle Jones let the words fall out of her mouth and form a soft pool around Jericho's nose.

“Get off of me!” His words grew wings and flew around Elle's head. “What are you doing?”

Silver woke up from her chem induced dreaming to see the act of fly fucking. Her mind was slow, and it absorbed the scene in parts.

“What.. I need.. What are you..” She tried to say something, but her words slipped from her pale lips to mesh with her co-conspirators fragile sentences that hung in the air.

A hard smack snapped through the air when Elle's face went slamming into a nearby filing cabinet. Blood fell from her nostrils in globs, but Jericho and her still struggled with each other. Her words reached deep inside his head and crossed the blood-brain barrier to twist the chems into thinking there was something wrong.

All the commotion, and yelling was bound to wake someone up. And, it did. Probably the worst possible person. Someone tipped off Sheriff Simms about all the horrible sounds, and yelling coming from the Water Processing Plant.

The rustic door flung open letting the blinding morning light in to shine light upon the devious junkies.

Their faces snapped towards the sound of Sheriff Simms' disbelief. Jericho quickly taking the moment of distraction to push Elle off of him in one fluid motion.

She landed on her back with a thump that made her eyes snap wide open.

“What the hell are you doing?” Lucas lowered his weapon when he saw it was familiar faces.

Silver still stuttered, and grabbed at Elle when the Lone Wanderer staggered to her feet. Using the slender woman's weight to help her own self up.

“You're not going anywhere, Elle.” The Sheriff ordered when she tried to make a well thought out plan of escape. “Are any of you seriously hurt?”

He turned to Elle who still had Silver grasping the cuff of her dress shirt.

“Hmm?” Lucas raised his eyebrows when he saw the thick crimson blood falling freely from her chin.

“No, I'm fine.” She answered wiping at the blood with a back of a hand. “I'm leaving.”

Lucas motioned for Leo and Jericho to leave with her.

“I don't want to see any of you up here again.” Was his final warning.

Lucas watched as they stumbled and clawed their way down the ramp. He shook his head at the plight of the Lone Wanderer. How she went from giving the gift of clean water to becoming a junkie in a shit place like this was beyond his comprehension.

The junkies, party of four, left to Jericho's house where they waited for the effects of various chemicals to leave their rotten brains.

Silver collapsed against a corner. Leo sat beside her asking how long they should wait. If Jenny caught him in some house with a bunch of strung-outs he wouldn't know what to do. Leo swore she acted more like a wife than a sister half the time.

Her and Jericho sat on the bed. Her breath felt like fire, and the pumping of her heart was filling her head with ice. She slipped off the mattress, and slumped against the bed frame.

“I'm sorry I thought you were a liar, Jericho.” Elle stuttered as her eye lids felt heavy.

“It's okay, kid.”

“I don't know where I'm going anymore.” She weakly confessed.