Wasteland, Baby!

With a final snip of his old scissors and a pat down of Jay’s dusty hair, Butch hummed to himself and turned to put the shears away. Jay considered him to be very talented at his assigned profession, relieved that he agreed to visit her for another haircut. If she were being honest, Butch was the only person she trusted with scissors near her neck and face; especially now, since she was utterly shit-faced and had a hard time keeping herself still. Somehow, Butch had mastered the art of giving good haircuts to drunk people in the time he was gone and she couldn’t be happier to have a friend with those talents.

While she spaced out, she felt the back of the couch she had been sitting in for the last twenty minutes lean forward ever-so-slightly. She heard few clicks from behind her and smoke began to fill her tiny home. She could only imagine that Butch had finished cleaning up and decided to stay for a spell. How uncharacteristic of him. Over the past few months, Butch had taken to leaving as soon as he physically could every time he visited Jay in Megaton. A terrible feeling bubbled in her gut.

“You ever think about taking a trip?”

The smoke from Butch’s lit cigarette misted over Jay’s head, much like his question had. This was the first thing of substance he had to say during his visit, and it had to be something so cryptic. Not so much cryptic, however, vague being a more appropriate descriptor. What did he mean by ‘taking a trip? A trip to where, and why— why would he ask such a vague question? Butch normally asked vague questions, of course, but they never sounded as heavy as this one. Jay felt a tug at the back of her head, like she had the capacity to intelligently press him further, but she knew she just couldn't in her present state. Instead of a more articulated response for specifics, Jay threw her head back and took another glug of vodka from her bottle.

This one would be the second one for today, her first being half of one from the day before. After tearing the glass away from her face, she simply looked up at Butch’s back from her place on the beaten old couch and grunted— hopefully, she thought, that he would register that as ‘how do you mean?’

She could see Butch rub the bridge of his nose from the corner of her eye— a habit he’d picked up recently. “Y’know, like, going on a trip. Away. From the Capital. Not moping around here,” he vaguely motioned toward the dozens of bottles of alcohol strewn about Jay’s coffee table. His speech was broken up, almost as if he were talking to a child. The irony made Jay chuckle internally before she digested what he was implying.

“I-I don’t… I don’t ‘mope around’,” Jay tried her best to keep her words from sounding slurred, as the response was more spontaneous than she would have liked it to be. She couldn’t help it— the thought of leaving behind the Capital made her skin crawl. “You know I have to stay here and help with— with Purity. Stupid Brotherhood, can’t fucking do anything right by themselves, bunch of armed children if you ask me. I don’t doubt they’d fuck something up if I left...” her muttering continued into her empty bottle as she tried to take another sip of the stinging substance.

“Yeah, maybe. But it doesn’t have to be you to make sure they don’t fuck up,” Butch pressed further, his shoulders shrugging upward to emphasize his words. Jay felt him turning towards her, his arm bumping the back of her head as he lowered himself to hang onto the back of her couch. “In fact, why don’t you have me and my crew look after it?”

Jay nearly choked on the alcohol she tried to down. What the hell was he trying to say? She turned to face him, her head snapping around so quickly she almost wanted to vomit. Butch’s face was blurry to her, but she could still make out a grin— shit-eating or genuine, her stomach dropped at where this conversation was leading and she wanted to end it. “Wh-whad- whaddare….” and like a babbling moron, she couldn’t properly stop it like she should have.

“I’m saying that you need a vacation, Jay,” Butch stated bluntly, poking her forehead as she stared wordlessly at him.

It was difficult for her to comprehend the idea of leaving, and it wasn’t just her being inebriated. The Capitol was her home, a place for her to protect, a place where her father and mother died, a place where she had to continue the work they died for. It was familiar to her. To leave it behind to go on some ridiculous ‘vacation’ that Butch was offering was unfathomable. She didn’t have the proper headspace to convey that to her friend, settling for a simple, but stern “I can’t do that.”

Before she could continue, a flyer was pushed into her sight. A symbol of a circle surrounding a cross adorned the front of it, below it in bold letters read The Followers of the Apocalypse. Butch wiggled it a bit while it was under her scrutiny. “Even found ‘ya a place to check out. A guy that was passin’ though was handing these out. He said they’re way out west, full of doctors an’ stuff— I’m sure you can find somethin’ to do with them.”

“I can’t leave,” Jay batted the flyer away from her face, looking Butch in the eye (as best as she could muster at the moment, anyway).

“Jay, you need to.”

At the stubbornness of his words, Jay drunkenly grabbed Butch by his collar. Her grip was surprisingly tight as she grappled desperately at the stained shirt. “ No, I need to be here, you idiot. Why are you saying this all of a sudden, huh? Why are you even here—”

“You asked me to give you a haircut,” Butch muttered, stone faced.

Jay chose to ignore him. She pressed on, mimicking him by jabbing a finger into his chest.“Why do you fucking care?”

Irritably, Butch pinched the bridge of his nose as he released a tired sigh. She could tell that he wasn’t threatened at all by her slurred squawking. He was just tired. Whether it was her words or just her in general, she couldn’t tell.

After giving himself a moment, he responded. “I care because I’m your friend, Jay. I hate seein’ you like… this,” Butch backed off and vaguely gestured to all of Jay. “I tried to help you before, but it didn’t work. So I left, and hoped that you would figure your shit out yourself, and that’s obviously not workin’ either.”

“So yer sayin’ that just fucking leaving on some stupid getaway is what’s gonna do the trick?” Jay haphazardly threw her arms into the air in a dramatic bravado as she spoke, feeling her entire being shake with anger at the stupid delinquent in front of her.

Butch clicked his tongue at her heated retort, and Jay could see that the frustration was starting to get to him. He quickly turned away from her, a short-tempered huff escaping him as he dropped the flyer on the floor and stomped toward the door.

“Do whatever the fuck you want. I’m done trying, Hanson,” the weak screen door to Jay’s house slammed shut, punctuating the conversation as Butch stormed away— his footsteps fading as he put more distance between himself and the house.

Jay trembled in the same spot he left her as she quietly seethed, drawing deep breaths and trying to keep herself together. As much as she was capable of doing, anyway. She lowered herself to the ground in an attempt to stop the spinning around her and find out the quickest way to forget the entire argument with Butch.

---

Turns out the quickest way to forget a conversation immediately after it had occurred was— you guessed it— alcohol. Also going for a walk for some fresh air, but it was the vodka sloshing around in Jay’s system doing the brunt of the work.

She had been stumbling around the outskirts of the the D.C. area after hitching a ride with a passing caravan (and buying the largest bottle of booze they had on them). She had lost track of time during her little excursion out of Megaton, but she estimated that it had been a good few hours based on the fact that it was still light out when she left.

The moon was high in the sky as she came across the Potomac, the light reflecting gently off of the clear water as it rippled restlessly. The sight of it immediately brought some semblance of calm to the otherwise wound-up Jay. She found herself unconsciously gravitating toward the water and settled herself down on the shore, quietly observing the rushing water from the Jefferson Memorial off in the distance. The tiniest smile crept its way up to the corners of Jay’s mouth as she took in the peaceful view.

There was no way she could leave it behind— it was too wonderful. It reminded her of her father, God rest his soul. It even evoked thoughts of her mother, despite the mazes of emotion that she would rather not deal with that came with that particular train.

Jay sighed and took a large gulp of vodka in an attempt to derail where her mind was trying to go. She was out here to relax and forget, she reminded herself.

Something at the back of her head and at the pits of her stomach tugged at her, however. One told her that maybe she should stop and think, and the other telling her that it was probably a good time to face away from the water and brace herself. The latter claimed urgency as she felt a warm rush through her system, dropping the bottle of vodka she clamped her hands over her mouth and rushed to a nearby pile of rocks, away from the water.

Her throat began to burn as she quickly emptied out the contents of her stomach, squeezing her eyes shut while letting everything out. The vomiting hadn’t been quite a surprise to her, it had happened a handful of times in the past when she started hitting the sauce harder. This time, however, everything began to burn and ache as she stood shakily, hunched over and gripping stones to keep herself stable. She supposed she could attribute that to the fact that she hadn’t eaten anything all day.

Once her little episode was finished, she stumbled backward on the ground and felt her gaze unfocus as she stared up at the sky. Jay felt the void stare back at her and a twisting feeling returned to her stomach. Instinctively, she gripped her belly and expected another round of liquor expulsion— but it never came.

Confused, she unsteadily sat herself up and marked it up to hunger. Her hand fumbled around her pockets for a bag of jerky that she purchased from the caravan. A few strips later and the feeling in her gut persisted. She tried lying down again, and it still remained settled at the bottom of her stomach.

Beginning to become frustrated with her gut, she crawled her way back to the edge of the river. She left the half-empty bottle of vodka on the dirt, deciding that she would rather not have to waste it all by throwing it up like she just did. Instead, she pulled herself up to the water and splashed the cool liquid on her face.

Nothing she had read explained the strange sensation she was feeling, and it confused and irritated her to no end. The voice at the back of her head tugged at the left side of her brain again, proposing that the feeling wasn’t a physical ailment, but some form of guilt.

That’s absurd, she thought, I haven’t done anything wrong. To which the voice countered with ‘wrong’ is subjective. You think you haven’t done anything wrong, but pushing Butch away like you did is doing wrong by him.

In a moment of clarity (or she was slowly beginning to sober up), she suddenly realised that she had started a full-on conversation with herself. Jay briefly looked to the bottle of vodka, thinking of how she could end it quickly and drown herself once more in the forget-juice. However, she thought better of it. A small break wouldn’t do any harm, she rationalized.

All you do is ‘rationalize,’ you fucking robot, she flinched at the blaring voice in her head that mimicked some amalgam of people she knew in the vault. She could recall someone in her past telling her such a thing, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Maybe Butch had said it at one point, but she couldn’t be entirely sure; plenty of people had called her something along the lines of ‘robot’ and she couldn’t keep track of all of them.

Her internal argument carried on, maybe you can’t remember because you’re drunk all the time nowadays.

Jay wanted to be offended at the thought, but she rationalized that she couldn’t. She couldn’t because she supposed it was true. She held her head in her hand as she gazed out at the water and continued to talk to herself. She wanted to say that she couldn’t blame herself, and that anyone would turn to some sort of outlet given the shit that she had been through. However, another part of her scolded herself.

Don’t try and justify your shitty habits, Blue Jay, that’s how you circle back to them.

She flinched as her thoughts began to run wild and jump back to her earlier argument with Butch. Maybe Butch was right. Maybe you need time away from the root of your problems. The Capital is your home, sure, but it’s suffocating you. Too many bad things happened in this place, and taking some time away from it would be a healthier outlet than drinking until you’re barely able to think.

Huffing to herself, she couldn’t believe her own thoughts— couldn’t believe that she was beginning to actually consider Butch’s offer. The Capital Wasteland needed her.

For what? There hasn’t been a problem with the water routes, and everything’s been peaceful for the most part since last month. Besides, the Capital Wasteland can take care of itself; it did before you stumbled out of that vault, and it can after you leave.

Jay racked her spinning mind for any other reason to plant herself firmly at home, but she soon came up with nothing. Aside from Project Purity, she found that nothing was really tying her down.

Her eyes traveled down to the clear waters of the Potomac, staring at her reflection as it warped and rippled along with the gently flowing liquid. For the first time in weeks, she really saw herself. She really did look like a proper trainwreck with dark circles piled high under her eyes, dirt caking her cheeks, her hair was probably the most presentable aspect of her appearance. It looked like Butch really had tried his best with it, she thought, it was the main reason she always asked him to cut it.

Butch… as her drunken state slowly began to trickle away to leave room for a hangover, she thought of her friend. He really did try. Jay clenched at her stomach as the bottomless feeling decided to make itself known again.

She really didn’t want to have to run away. She hated having to run away.

Then don’t think of it as running away, her mind whispered, think of it as taking a step back. It’s not like you’ll be gone forever. Sometimes you just need a breather.

Slowly, she stood herself up and unfolded the flyer Butch had left her from within her jacket pocket. Her steely gaze skimmed over each and every detail before she stuffed it back where it came from. She decided that she would leave as soon as she could— it was going to be a long way to Nevada.