Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It started as a rash. An innocent bit of bumps and reddened skin on the back of her hand. Ruby had put some ointment cream on it, wrapped it up, stayed away from irradiated food and drink as much as she could, and went on with her everyday life. She thought nothing more of it until she returned to Megaton after a bit of mine-dodging for Moira and went to put fresh gauze over the infection. It had spread down her wrist, the bumps angrier, larger, and much redder than they had been on her first discovery. That was when the worry began. It could have been radiation, she thought, and downed a bottle of Rad-X to be sure. It could have been some sort of airborne bacterium. Living in a vault all her life, her immune system could easily be compromised by whatever had happened to the world above. She checked every inch of herself that she could to rule out an infection spreading from an untreated wound. She opened a journal and started taking down her thoughts, her symptoms, everything that James had taught her to do when faced with the unknown.

“Nosebleed!” Butch strolled into her room without knocking, startling her into slamming the book shut. “How was getting blown up in the name of science for that crazy broad?” He must have heard the slam, smile dying on his lips as he looked the redheaded medic over. “Hey, why so jumpy?”

Butch hadn't been out of the Vault for much longer than a month, barely getting into the swing of life in the Wastes. His confidence was returning as he learned more about how to function outside of the hierarchy the Overseer had set upon them. He was still jumpy around loud noises or sudden movements of anyone he didn't trust, choosing to spend much of his downtime in her little tin hut where he knew he was safe. She couldn't say she blamed him. Low light and close walls felt more like home than anything else she knew. It was more of a relief than she would ever admit to know that there was one other person in the world that could relate to her unease of being in the open for too long.

She put on a smile, shaking her head. “Nothing. Just…just a little freaked out by what happened, that’s all. You know there was a sniper just waiting for me to get past all those mines? It was insane; I nearly got my head shot off!”

This seemed to satisfy him, the tightness of his shoulders easing as he shook his head. “All that trouble just to get to a playground, huh? See, I told you I shoulda gone along. Me or dogbreath over there.” He hooked a thumb toward Dogmeat, lazing by the door.

“I handled it okay.” She shrugged, the affliction on her hand temporarily forgotten. “For a sniper you’d think he would be a little more perceptive to someone sneaking up on his hideout like that. Besides, I couldn’t have you or Dogmeat tripping over a mine on accident and giving us away.” She smirked, enjoying the flush that started pinking Butch’s ears.

“I’ll remember that crack next time you’re needing my help, you little twerp.” He turned, likely to go bug her “mechanical maid” as he called it for some water.

“You don’t always have to take things so personally, you know!” She called after him, laughing despite herself. She needed to loosen up, she told herself. It was just a little thing. No one could be perfectly healthy out here in the Wastes, after all. Soon it would clear up and she’d be back to normal.

It was harder to keep reminding herself that when the itching began a few nights later.

Anymore she found it difficult to get a good night’s sleep, but one night later in the week she woke up to a feeling like something crawling over her hand on needle-sharp legs. She checked the bandage, not seeing anything new or different atop or beneath, and attempted to get back to sleep. She remembered having the chicken pox at age six, maybe seven, and the advice her father gave to never scratch the sores dotting her small body lest the marks stay forever. She turned and shifted, half-crazy from the need to slap or scratch at the creeping sensation on her skin.

What if it was what she was fearing, she thought at last, the late hour and her desperate attempts not to scratch freeing the dark part of her mind to think as it wished. She didn’t hear of it happening much anymore now that the radiation from the bombs of old had dissipated enough for life on the surface to at least attempt to start again, but she had been mucking around in highly radiated areas ever since she got out of the vault. She was always careful to take Rad-X and RadAway and to watch her Pip-Boy’s Geiger counter so she didn’t get too much exposure, but…what if it wasn’t good enough?

She tried not to make too much noise, but the old bed creaked where the metal frame was rusting at its joints and against the floor where metal met metal. She tried every way possible to avoid lying on her hand while positioning herself just right enough to keep the temptation at bay. Her teeth hurt from clenching her jaw against the sensations within and without. Just as she was sure she was going to lose her patience against this unwinnable battle, she heard movement from down the hall.

“Find a spot. Lay in the spot. Don’t fuckin’ move from that spot. Some of us gotta get to sleep, you know!” A few bangs against the tin wall for measure. It seemed Butch was a lighter sleeper than he once was, she thought, rolling out of bed with a sigh. He would be crazy not to be.

Glancing down at her arm, she felt bile rising in her throat. The bumps, smaller now as they appeared in their beginning stages, had nearly made it to her elbow in the short hours between her late night studies and her uncomfortable awakening. She unwrapped the gauze, sterilized her skin as much as she could, and wrapped it again, actively trying to keep her mind from thinking of the terrible possibilities that could be the cause. Some part of her mind warned her against going into this alone, or without a second opinion. Perhaps this was just a bad rash, nothing more. She made a note to go see Doc Church in the morning.

Slipping her boots on and the familiar black leather jacket hanging over the back of her chair, her thoughts turned again to Butch. He had grown so much in the weeks since he followed her back out of the Vault, still so new to the world outside their cramped cage. He was doing very well compared to Ruby’s first weeks out, a scrawny young thing clinging to her baseball bat for dear life, shielding her eyes from the sun and jumping at mole rats and Enclave eyebots. Whatever this was, she didn't want to drag him through any more trouble than she already had. Running her fingers through tangled hair in vain, she shook her head and headed downstairs into the night. She needed a drink if she was going to deal with any of this, she decided. Butch could be told what was happening as soon as Church gave his verdict.

Chapter Text

The cool air helped clear her head and distract her from the burning and itching at her hand, if only a little. She took the longest way possible to Moriarty’s Saloon, creeping in the side door as she knew the old man would be sleeping. He wasn’t anyone she wanted to see anyway. The man she sought glanced up as she walked by and took a seat at the bar.

“Hey,” Gob greeted, rough voice more of a comfort than anything she could have sought. Then, as he looked her over, his smile formed into a frown. “God, Ruby, you look like shit. Anything you wanna talk about?”

Despite her worries, she managed a smile. “You know, I’m not sure yet. Maybe it’s something, maybe it’s just my head…I really don’t know right now.”

The ghoul pulled a bottle from the shelves behind him and brought a glass from the precariously stacked pyramid sitting on the counter. It seemed he had been bored in the early hours. Pouring the drink and setting it before her, he offered, “See if that helps you any. I’m here if you need it.”

Gob had been the first friendly face she had seen once she stumbled out of the Vault and into Megaton. The second, technically, if Sheriff Simms could count, but Gob was the only one she had really spoken to as she made her way into the dark bar. She had heard nothing of ghouls or the side effects of radiation other than a slow and painful death before meeting him, and had been startled, even frightened by his appearance, but clinical fascination and a need for a friend in this strange world had won out over her initial apprehension. He had been through a lot—something she could understand, even a little—and once she had gotten him to realize that she did not see him as anything but a man working a bar, he became an invaluable friend. He patiently answered any question she asked about the Wastes, the war, and anything else she came across in her travels and in return she told him stories of her life underground and offered a sympathetic ear when Moriarty was being an especially terrible asshole.

She kicked the drink back, wincing at the burn. He’d brought the good stuff out for her, she realized as she forced her muscles to ease. Hearing the quiet murmur of the odd barfly and the soft hiss of the radio, she let out a sigh. She had to rule it out, she told herself. And there was no one better to ask. “Can…can I ask you to look at something for me? You don’t have to, it’s just…something’s bugging me pretty bad and I need to make sure it’s not as bad as I think.”

She fully expected him to decline, but much to her surprise, he nodded. “Sure, Red. What do you need?”

The nickname brought a sincere smile from her lips, nearly convincing her that this wasn’t half as bad as it seemed. It could be an allergic reaction, something she had eaten or come into contact with. Perhaps she was allergic to dogs, she rationalized. Or living so near to an active bomb… Pulling her hand from the pocket of her old Tunnel Snakes jacket, she peeled back the wrapping near her knuckles where the rash was at its worst. “I know it’s gross,” She offered with an apologetic look. “But do you know what this is?”

Silence for a beat. Maybe two. Gob’s brow furrowed as he looked her hand over, rough fingers brushing over her skin as he unwrapped more of her hand to look it over. He didn’t speak, bringing her darker thoughts creeping back in from where she’d banished them. After a long moment, he shook his head with a deep sigh.

“Shit, Red. Just…shit.” His voice was low, eyes never looking up from the infection marring her skin.

“What?” She asked, more of her fear worming its way into her mind. “What is it?”

“I’d go see the Doc, just to be sure, but…I don’t think I could ever forget this.”

“Please,” Her voice was small. She was aware of her heartbeat, blood rushing in her ears as she tried desperately to cling to the last shreds of denial she had left. “Gob, please tell me there’s something else it could be.” Her free hand slid across the bar, resting over one of his. She was shaking, she realized distantly.

The look he gave her told her all she needed to know. “I dunno what to say. There’s no nice way to say it. All my life, I’ve never heard of a way to stop it before it gets too far, but there might be something. There might be nothing. All’s I know is that if you need anything…I’m here. Shit, I’m…I’m sorry.”

She ducked her head to hide the tears that hit like a Nightkin’s fist. She didn’t know what to think. What to say. She couldn’t give a thought toward what her future might hold for the power of the fear that clutched her heart as tightly as she clutched Gob’s hand. All she could do was think of the pain that would come. Of the things she’d have to do.

Chapter Text

Doc Church was many things, and had been called many more in his career as Megaton’s resident practitioner. He did his job well, though, and no one could deny it, and Ruby respected him for the work he had to do. She had to admit that his bedside manner needed a little work. Once the sun rose and she gathered the strength to go down to the clinic—both things Gob was blessedly willing to stick around for—she cleaned herself up and headed down as if nothing were wrong. She put on a winning smile and greeted the odd townsperson as she walked by. For some reason her mind was clear. Her entire world was falling apart, but she didn’t need for the whole town to know. If there was anything she had learned from her life in the vault, it was how to swallow her emotions.

Entering the clinic and glad to find it empty of other patients, Ruby greeted the doctor with a heartiness that she didn’t feel. He replied simply that he was busy and would be with her in a moment. Sitting patiently on a nearby chair, she allowed her thoughts to wander as she heard faint clattering further into the building.

The unbidden thought came to her, leaving a sour taste in her mouth—the infection would spread. Her skin would inflame, then slowly die. Fall off in patches, even. And then it would continue. Inflame, die, repeat. It would crawl up her arm and reach her torso, maybe even her face, rotting away everything she had tying her to her parents. Her grandmother’s red hair, James’ blue eyes, her mother’s short nose and round chin. Everything she had telling her that everything must eventually be all right. And what of her father? She couldn’t see him like this. She couldn’t try and find him and say that his only daughter was rotting away because he left and she followed. It would break him just as badly as it was breaking her.

She hadn’t realized that Church had finished his tasks and was calling to her until he stood before her, snapping his fingers in front of her face and startling her from her fear-fueled trance. “S-sorry,” She shook her head under his disapproving gaze, too nervous to really be annoyed by his actions. “I was just…I need you to look at something for me, is that all right?”

The look on his face shifted. She knew he held at least a little respect for her—he had told her as much in his own cold way—for traveling around the nearby towns and offering her medical supplies and experience. Most medics found a town and stuck there out of fear for their own skins. No, she thought, turning her mind away from that train of thought. That wasn’t good phrasing. She slipped her jacket off and held out her arm, wrapped nearly to the elbow and told him how it started, how it was feeling, and informing him that she may be overreacting and needed a second opinion.

He unwrapped her arm completely, his ever-present frown deepening as he looked her skin over. “Radioactive necrosis.” He mumbled, bringing her worst fears to light all over again. “Ghoulification in layman’s terms.” He looked up to meet her eyes, sighing before shaking his head. “I know you want me to say something about how you can reverse it, or stop it before it gets any worse. I’m afraid there’s nothing to do now. Just stay away from as much radiation as you can and…start saying your goodbyes if you’re a proud type. When the worst happens…it won’t be pretty, and it won’t be graceful. Once the worst of it starts, you may want to find a place to hide out for a while until it’s over. For everyone’s sake.”

Tears filled Ruby’s eyes with startling speed, but she refused to let them fall. “There’s…nothing to do.” She breathed.

“Nothing.” He agreed, grabbing a fresh bandage and wrapping her arm once again. Then, face changing to something she couldn’t quite read, he offered a rare phrase, “…I’m sorry.”

She didn’t know what she would tell Butch, she thought as she thanked the doctor and slipped back out into the warming morning air. He would be the first to notice something was wrong. She couldn’t keep anything from him. One thing at the time, she told herself, shaking all thoughts of the future out of her head for the moment.

She felt lost, adrift in an icy sea with nothing and no one to hold on to. She didn’t know where she would go or what she would do, only that no one she had come to know in this strange world would be able to accept her once the change was complete. She wanted to cry, but couldn’t find the strength; she wanted to scream, but couldn’t find the will. All that was in her was empty shock, colder than anything she had ever experienced.

For the second time in her life, Ruby felt absolutely alone.

Chapter Text

Instead of going back to her house, her feet took her back toward the saloon. She needed a friend in this, and Gob was the only one that had any idea of what she was to go through. He was quick to pour her a drink as he went about his daily tasks, as casual as he was every day. If he was concerned, he didn’t show it, but Moriarty’s ever-watchful eye was never pointed far from the ghoul. She drank in silence, careful to take it slow. She needed to think carefully, not slosh her way into oblivion. Her future lay ahead of her—she had to figure it out with a clear head.

“You remember what I told you about Underworld?” He asked as the morning crawled on, between the late drinkers and the early drinkers.

“Yeah, the place in DC where you grew up.” A city of ghouls, he had said. Where the last remnants of a time long past spent their lives in comfort. She had only gotten as far as the outskirts of the ruined city of DC in the first few days of her egress before centaurs and super mutants ran her off. She hadn’t dared go back.

“It’s an option, you know. There’s good people down there. Radiation might make everything worse, but…they’ll know how to help.” He offered, making sure his boss was in the back room before leaning against the counter to talk a little more freely.

“What’ll I tell Butch?” She asked, running a hand through her tangled hair. “We grew up together—he’ll know something’s wrong. I can’t make him go through this with me, not after everything I’ve dragged him into.”

She watched a frown pull the corners of her friend’s mouth. Gob and Butch’s acquaintanceship was nothing short of tense. The young thug had nearly jumped out of his skin to see someone quite like Gob, despite everything Ruby had tried to prepare him for the shock--along with a stern warning to be civil. A train wreck of a conversation and a few colorful phrases later, and animosity flew. Butch thought of new nicknames to call the ghoul in his free time and Gob always charged double for anything Butch bought. All in all, she couldn't count it as a complete failure. Things could certainly have gone worse. “That friend of yours has to know sometime if you’re so close, Red. He followed you out of that vault. He should know what this fucked up world can do.”

She shook her head, staring into the glass set before her as an excuse to keep her distracted. “It…it just wasn’t supposed to happen. None of this was. I was supposed to do something good for the world…make it great. Make my mark. Do something my parents would be proud of. Now look at me.” She scowled, anger rising to the surface of her cold emptiness like a bubble through radioactive slime. “Falling apart inside and out. I don’t know what to think, what to do. I feel like this isn’t happening to me, I’m just…detached, watching from the outside while some other idiot gets her life torn apart before her eyes. I’ve done so much for everyone I’ve come across and…and I’ve never felt so alone. How can I leave home and people I care about twice to go into the unknown? To throw my life away again?”

“I dunno what to tell you, Red.” Gob’s voice was smaller than usual, though Moriarty was nowhere in sight. “People like you around here. You’re good to them. They might not mind the change as bad as you’re thinking.”

“Maybe.” She said at length. “But I don’t think they would ever treat me the same.”

“Look, I’m not gonna tell you what you should do. Because honestly, I’m not speaking for the town. I’m not speaking for anyone but me. You’re the best friend I’ve had since I was shipped to this dump and I don’t want to lose you.” He said at last, startling her with his frankness. “But whatever you choose, I’m behind you. Wherever you go I want you to know it’s right. And to send my love to Carol if you head that way.” A thin smile twisted thinner lips and she found herself smiling despite her grim mood.

“Thanks, Gob.” She shook her head, giving a soft laugh. “That…means a lot.”

The ghoul opened his mouth to say one more thing before his eyes flicked to the door, expression darkening as familiar footfalls rang across the tin floors. She felt her stomach drop as Butch sank into the seat next to her.

“Get a little restless last night, Nosebleed?” He asked jovially. She glanced over at him. He had picked up the leather armor she left for him a week ago, apparently okay with the fact that it once belonged to someone who had died. The gel in his hair was still soft, leaving it a little loose. “You were having a hard time of it, from what I heard.”

“Morning, Butch.” Her voice seemed emptier than she needed for it to be, running a hand over her face as she took another draw from her glass.

“Little early for that, ain’t it?” The way he brushed across the topic, almost afraid of it, put a dagger in her chest. She had almost forgotten what he had to deal with in her absence…and for the other twenty-some-odd years of his life.

“Sorry. Don’t worry, I’m totally sober. I just…it seemed like a good idea.” She shook her head.

“Ruby, you’ve been acting weird lately. Like for the past week you’ve been distant, jumpy. Hell, you don’t even drink. What’s the matter?”

“Nothing’s the matter.” She bristled a little, not ready for this line of questioning. She hadn’t had enough time to think of a good story, something to ease the blow. All she had was the truth, and she couldn’t bear to tell him that. “I’ve just…been thinking a lot lately.”

“Usually when someone’s thinking about heavy shit, they let their partner in on the game plan.” He pointed out, accepting the drink Gob poured out of Ruby’s sake than anything. The unspoken rule was they could be as nasty to each other as they wanted provided she wasn’t around to see it. He knocked it back with practiced ease, hardly wincing as it went down. “You an’ me, right?”

She didn’t answer—couldn’t answer. And the way he watched expectantly twisted the knife a little harder as it sat in her ribcage. Underworld came back to her mind, insistently, and she knew that she didn’t have the luxury of time. “Butch, we need to talk in private.” She said at last, taking his hand and pulling him up the stairs of the Saloon, into the first open door she found. She hoped Nova wouldn’t mind.

“Butch, I’m going to have to go somewhere soon,” She said quickly, before he could start questioning. “And I may be gone a really long time. I’m going to need you to look after things in the meantime, all right?”

Making sure the door was closed, Butch shook his head, the surprise, the anger clear in his eyes. “Hang on just one minute, Nosebleed; you can’t just spring that on me. What the hell is going on, where are you going? Why can’t I go with you?”

“I can’t…I can’t let you know that. Just take care of the dog. Take care of Megaton. You’ll do just fine.”

“You can’t leave like that!” He snapped, moving into her line of sight every time she tried to avoid his gaze. “It’s you and me, you said. You pulled me out of that goddamn vault telling me that you’d teach me everything I needed to know. That we were all we needed. What happened to that, what is so goddamn important that I can’t help you on this?!”

“Butch, keep your voice down.” She hissed, eyes moving to the door. She didn’t need Moriarty listening in on this. “I really wish I could explain, but I can’t. I just—I can’t, all right?” She felt like tearing her hair out, the words catching in her throat. She knew his feelings on ghouls. He was the last person that needed to know what she was going through.

“Is it about your dad? Did you find some kind of information on him, or something?” He was grasping at straws, she saw. Trying to make sense of something that just couldn’t make sense. “Geez, Ruby, give me something, at least! Used to be we knew each other better than anything—what the hell is so important that you gotta keep secrets from me?”

The tears that had avoided her so kindly were back with a vengeance, face twisting as she fought to keep her composure. “Goddammit, what part of ‘I can’t tell you’ aren’t you getting? I want to tell you more than anything, I just can’t. You wouldn’t…” She broke off with a huff, trying to compose herself. This was not at all how this was supposed to be.

“Wouldn’t what? Understand? You’re right, there’s a whole hell of a lot I ain’t understanding but if you would just tell me, maybe I might be a little enlightened!” Confusion so often moved to anger for him, she recalled. It was the only way he knew how to deal with things he didn’t know how to deal with. “Where are you going, can you tell me that?”

“Underworld.” Her voice was soft, weaker than she wanted it to be. She felt cold and hot all at once, a weight sitting heavy on her chest. “I’m going to Underworld.” Now that she had said it, there was really no place else she could go. Gob was right, it would be her best shot at getting the help she needed, straight from people who knew it best.

“DC’s city of corpses. Great. And just what’s there that you would want to brave Super Mutants, Nightkin, and who knows what else? You’re walking straight into the fire and you can’t tell anyone why?”

“Stop calling them that.” She snapped, tensing at the sound of the scorn in his voice. “They’re ghouls. They’re people. Can’t you treat them like it for once?”

“Why should I?” He was gesturing wildly now, and she could tell he was completely lost as his anger rose. “What the hell have they got to do with this anyway? Why are you going down there, why won’t you be back, what the hell has gotten into you?! I’ve never seen you like this, Ruby, it’s freaking me out!”

Her annoyance, her fear, her frustration rose to a boiling point. He wasn’t getting it. He would never get it. He couldn’t leave damn well alone until she spelled it out for him, just like always. “You want answers?” She asked, pushing her sleeve up and taking the end of the bandage, pulling it away to reveal the skin malady that started this mess. If he hated her, she thought wildly, he wouldn’t follow. “Here’s your goddamn answers. I’m turning into a ghoul. A Boney. A fucking corpse—have I made it clear enough yet? And I don’t want you there to watch me fall apart like that because you’re my best fucking friend, is that out of line?”

He recoiled as quickly as if she had slapped him, face reddening a moment before going pale. He opened his mouth to speak before closing it, then trying again. No words came out. Watching him go through this mix of disgust and horror broke something deep in her chest and she knew that she had gone too far. She should have just left him to think whatever he might have thought. There was no fixing this. Tears spilled at last, and she wasn’t sure if they were from anger or shame or fear. She supposed all three.

“I can’t do this.” She breathed, pulling her sleeve down over the rash as the pins and needles started their insistent itching all over again. “I need to get out of here.”

“Ruby,” Butch’s voice was strained, and she didn’t care to read it. She couldn’t look at him as she passed him to open the door. “Please, just hang on for a sec—“

“No, Butch.” She froze, her fingers on the handle. “I really can’t.” She pushed past him, shrugging his hand off as it landed on her shoulder as she descended the stairs. She pulled some caps from her pocket and laid them on the counter, more than enough for both drinks. Shaking her head at Gob’s soft questioning, she slipped out into the light of Megaton, setting a course for home. The last home she would have for a long while, she thought bitterly. Her journey would just have to start earlier than she thought.