avery hub

their paths cross when she finds him hunched over behind debris, and she at first assumes he’s dead. if the decomposing body isn’t an indicator, it’s also the missing quarter of leg. but she’s seen it all ever since she left her vault. and she is the first person—in a very long time—to ask him if he’s okay. he must be hallucinating and that’s a sign, right? that his time is coming to an end? but she’s very much real, and very much crouching down before him and touching his shoulder, searching for a pulse. it feels heavy and like a burn so he flinches, and she asks him again if he’s—“ah-ah-ah, hands off,” his hand reaches for his pistol and he points it directly at her without looking. but when he lifts his head up to glare at her, she’s smiling at him awkwardly.

he should’ve known. the blue uniform clothes are a dead giveaway, but so are the manners. vaultie. “vaultie,” he spits out, and she continues to smile, holding her hands out in front of her in faux surrender. he knows a threat when he sees one, and she is the textbook opposite. she instead looks something straight out of a dream. he would be certain he’s dreaming, but he hasn’t in years. nothing but nightmares. so he continues to stare at her, perplexed, until she responds.

“oh, vaultie. right, that’s what you guys call us,” her smile doesn’t falter and the dimple indenting her cheek catches his eye. “i am a fellow traveler, i don’t mean any harm, seriously. the gun is overdoing it, sir.”

“sir,” jack parrots, still perplexed, unblinking. “damn vaulties—”—it’s muttered under his breath—“—i don’t want to waste any of my bullets on you, beat it.”

samira chuckles, albeit uncertain, and stands up reluctantly. “you’re hurt, let me help you.” there’s something wrong with this girl aside from being incredibly sheltered.

“what’s the catch?”

“catch? there isn’t one, just. y’know, trying to be a good samaritan.”

“a good samaritan.”

samira huffs, throwing her hands up, “are you a broken record or something?”

jack smiles, “oh, you people do have feelings.”

she squints her eyes, mirroring the same smile, “well, yeah, and that’s why i can’t bring myself to ignore someone in pain.” she says it as if it were obvious, and sure, jack doesn’t doubt her for one second. it’s only slightly endearing that she doesn’t take full offense to his jab, but it must be the lack of real socialization.

he follows her gaze to his leg, or what’s left of it, and he sighs, shaking his head. “you’re 200 years late to that, sweetheart,” he wriggles it around, “y’know what would make me feel better, though?”

samira, who was still registering the fact he’s two centuries old, immediately lit up, nodding her head.

“if you could find and maybe kill—up to you, but knowing you in the last two minutes, i doubt it—the guy who stole my prosthetic. bring it back to me.”

“did he rob anything else?” she’s surveying him carefully, noticing the lack of anything on his person.

“my caps, my drugs, my dignity.”

samira purses her lips, “when did you last see him?” she sets her hands on her hips, one of them flying up to rest above her brow as she scanned the surrounding area.

jack wants to laugh, and he does, but it comes out as a cough. “you’re really fuckin’ considering it, huh?”

“actually, there is a catch.” he knew it, and he rolls his eyes at the audacity still.

“what could i possibly do for you?”

“share some knowledge in exchange.”

“today’s your lucky day,” jack slips his pistol back into its holder and rubs his hands together, “you’re talking to a living historical artifact.”

“uh-huh,” she doesn’t look as amused as he hoped, and she doesn’t want to entertain him, “i’m hoping you would recognize the name michael robinavitch, and tell me any information you have of him.”

jack freezes, and now he wishes he shot her when he had the chance.

“maybe robby rings a bell?”

“hm, fuck that. i’ll just get it myself.” he’s never seen someone’s face light up that fast, and she looks ecstatic at his utter refusal.

as soon as he makes a move—to get up, grab his pistol, who knows—samira is already kicking him down with her boot to his chest. “woah there, cowboy. it looks like you do have what i need, so let’s just make a simple, beneficial trade, hm? you wouldn’t get very far on your own.”

jack grits his teeth, “i’d rather rot here than help you get to that man.”

“get to him? so you know where he is. please, tell me,” she’s beginning to sound desperate, and jack is clueless to her intentions. “i need to know, lives are at stake.”

“you’re cute, kid, thinking that’ll move me.”

samira takes out what looks like a handgun, but it’s beyond jack what ammunition it uses, “how about now?” she points it at him, and he cocks his head.

“what happened to you meaning no harm? already kicking a guy when he’s already down, too. you vaulties are something else. never mind the manners, just a bunch of delusional—”—samira fires her weapon and jack scrunches his face together as a dart hits his chest—“—inbreeds.” he sighs pulling the dart out from his chest and tossing it to the ground.

“it will take more than that—”—he doesn’t get to finish his sentence as samira shoots several more at him, all puncturing his chest and neck, and he frowns, his vision darkening and the sound of her shuffling towards him becoming muffled.

“i’m so sorry, this is bigger than the both of us, okay?” she sounds far away, and he can hear how earnest she is in her voice despite losing consciousness. he should’ve—

samira can’t believe she’s done that. she’s never interrogated anyone in her life. maybe she threatened too soon? fuck, she should’ve had him answer her question of where the thief went before she tranquillized the poor guy. she reminds herself to not feel too guilty about this. “i’m finding his belongings and leg for him,” she’s talking to herself, something she learned she does to cope, “and he’ll be so grateful, he’ll forget about this whole thing and tell me what he knows.”

she spares a glance down at the ghoul, who is looking far more peaceful than when she first saw him. “you’re not so bad, right? maybe a nap is just what you needed.” her gaze lands on footprints leading south towards a town, and she already knows where she’ll find the culprit. judging by the amount of darts she used, she has at least a few hours to get back here with a leg and a lot of convincing.