Chapter Text
Freddie hated to find Thatchery holed up in his room. He'd started that habit after they'd taken the G.O.A.T., after they were supposed to start their training. It wasn't healthy. If he was the one doing it, his mother would take him back to the clinic to see Dr. Higgins again for another diagnosis.
Truth was, Freddie didn't sleep much either. But he still got out of bed in the morning despite averaging three hours of sleep a night, despite not wanting to talk to his parents, despite not wanting to see the bleak walls of the vault. He had to. He had to or his mother would drag him to the clinic once again. He didn't want more pills.
Amata grabbed his arm in the hallway when he was on his way to the Higgins' apartment. He had wanted to be alone with Thatchery, to sort some things out, to try and finally get some things off of his chest. He would have to find some time later. "Hey, have you seen Thatchery?"
"No. Did you try his room?"
"Yeah."
"Reactor?"
Amata hesitated. "I thought he'd be with you."
It hit him suddenly that maybe they weren't as secretive as they'd hoped. Either that or Thatchery told her about them, about the late nights spent together. Dammit. They'd have to be more careful. They could get in some serious trouble with the overseer. Not that Amata would tattle. Of anyone, she was the least likely to tattle.
She was still staring at him, worry spread over her face. That would age her prematurely, though Freddie was certain that she would still be gorgeous. She was the gem of the vault. The other kids were too stubborn and cruel to see that.
Freddie blinked down at her. "No. I haven't seen him in a couple of days."
Amata finally dropped his arm, wiped her palms on her hips. She sucked in a shaking breath. "Reactor, then?"
They went down to the reactor level together. The door to the cramped, secret shooting range was shut tight. Freddie could hear no shots when he pressed his ear to the seam of the door. But Thatchery could still be inside.
Thatchery was sitting inside with books spread before him on a crate that he was using as a table. He had moved a smaller crate over and was sitting on it, a pencil clenched between his teeth as he read. He was concentrating hard enough that he didn't even hear the door open.
"T?"
Thatchery started, nearly knocking one of his books down as he turned. "Shit, Freddie. Don't do that."
Freddie pulled the door shut behind Amata. "We didn't see you all day," Amata said. "We were worried."
"Sorry. I was trying to find a quiet place to study. I have a lot of catching up to do."
"Catching up?"
"He hasn't been studying like the rest of us," Freddie sighed.
Amata's face contorted. She looked as though Thatchery had personally offended her. She picked up one of his notebooks, flicking through the pages. It was full of notes; common problems, circuitry issues, power failures in the fuses. "I thought you were catching up?"
"I am. I filled that damn thing last night."
"Thatchery, you're ahead!" she said, excited. "This is more than I've done!"
"Really?" Thatchery looked at his Pip-Boy. "I've been in here longer than I thought, I guess." He stretched on the crate. "Why were you guys looking for me?"
Amata placed his notebook on top of a stack of books. "Well, it's your birthday in a few weeks, isn't it? We need to find out what you want!"
"Besides, it's about time for dinner," Freddie said, glancing at his Pip-Boy. "Have you even eaten all day?"
Thatchery pulled a face, like he was thinking. "No, I haven't." He got up, shutting his textbooks, and pushed the door open. "Come on. Let's go get some food."
"What do you want for your birthday?" Amata asked, bounding ahead of them both.
She was a fireball of excitement lately, likely due to the real work they were starting. She had always hated those odd jobs the overseer had assigned them all before they were eligible for the G.O.A.T. But Freddie could find nothing exciting in a career beneath her father's thumb. He could find nothing exciting in growing up.
"I don't know, Motts. Maybe a comic book? Or a new catcher's mitt. Mine's fraying."
"Oh, do I have the perfect gift for you, then."
The diner was empty when they got there. Andy was busy cleaning a corner booth, but he perked up when they sat down.
"Hello there!" Andy was cheery as he produced a pen and a notepad from seemingly nowhere. "How are you today?"
"We're great!" Amata said, but she shouldn't have spoken for all of them. Freddie never said he was fine.
"Might I take your orders?"
Amata ordered herself a bowl of noodles and a bottle of water, but Thatchery wanted Sugar Bombs and a Nuka-Cola. Freddie didn't feel up to eating. He felt sick.
"You're not hungry?" Thatchery asked.
"You're the one who suggested we drag him here," Amata remarked.
"Can I just get a water?" he asked Andy. He didn't have to tell them why he didn't feel well.
"Of course!" Andy handed him a cold bottle before he floated away, hovering behind the counter as he prepared their orders. He hummed quietly with the melody on the jukebox.
Thatchery settled back in the booth. "So, how is studying under the man, you two?"
"It's terrible," Freddie said, at the same time that Amata said, "It's okay."
Thatchery chuckled softly. "One of you is right."
"It really isn't that bad," Amata said with a frown.
Freddie groaned. She was always so optimistic. "You're his daughter, Amata. Of course it isn't that bad for you."
"What is your problem?" she demanded. "Why are you so damn sour about it?"
Freddie scraped his blunt nail over a word, 'freedom', carved into the table. Freedom was only the fevered dream of those before them. "I don't want to be my father," he whispered. He wasn't looking at either of them.
Thatchery's boot bumped Freddie's shin underneath the table. He was looking at him like he wanted to say something that he couldn't say here.
"I don't either," Amata replied, her voice soft. "I think we don't have to be. As long as who we are now doesn't fit their mold down the road, we won't become them. We can do things differently than the way they have."
"Is that enough? What if it doesn't change anything? What if we're destined to be exact copies of our parents, doomed to repeat their mistakes?"
Thatchery shook his head, his curls bouncing. He was looking at Freddie still. "I think we're too different. I don't think we could become our parents."
"We aren't our parents," Amata said. She was firm this time. Maybe she believed it. Freddie thought she was either naive or hopeful.
Thatchery told Freddie that night that he didn't want anything for his birthday. Sure, seventeen was a pretty important birthday in the vault, but he didn't care about it. He said that he already had everything he wanted.
"Everything?"
"Well, my mom, I guess, but no one can bring her back." He rolled over and straddled Freddie, his thighs on either side of Freddie's waist. "Did I ever tell you what I wanted for my tenth birthday?"
"I don't think so."
"Well, Amata made me guess what she had gotten me. I, uh..." He laughed. "I asked if she had gotten me a date with you and she made a noise of disgust."
Freddie laughed too. "Really?"
"Yeah. But I mean, I was serious. I had the worst crush on you when we were kids."
Freddie felt the smile melt from his face and he dropped his gaze from Thatchery's. He looked instead at his hands curled loosely around Thatchery's waist. "Hey, uh, I've been thinking..."
"About?"
He sighed, long and slow. He could feel Thatchery looking hard at him. "We're not kids anymore," he said. He pushed Thatchery's shirt up idly. "This has to end sometime, doesn't it?"
"Yeah," Thatchery murmured. He twisted Freddie's shirt between his fingers. "But it doesn't have to yet, does it? We aren't grown up yet. We're not old enough to be married off yet."
Freddie rubbed slowly along a small scar above Thatchery's hipbone. "A couple years," he mumbled. His throat felt tight, his chest too. "I don't... I-I like you, T, I do. A lot. It feels weird to think about being with someone else, having someone else sitting where you are."
"It won't come to that, will it? This is... It's different, I think, for us." He tucked an errant curl behind his ear. He licked his lips and God, Freddie really wanted to kiss him. But maybe now wasn't the time. "I think Amata was right. We aren't our parents and we never will be, not if we don't change."
"Everyone changes, T."
Thatchery's face contorted and he dropped his gaze. Freddie wanted to take those words back, if only to erase the sadness from Thatchery and himself. Thatchery curled into him and eventually drifted off. But Freddie didn't. He couldn't sleep.