But He Stopped Pt 2

Baby I'm the Baddest

I was so sore; bruises littered my body, I had received a few new scars post-stimpak, as well as a fracture that had healed well up.

I groaned as I shifted to a sitting position from the filthy sleeping bag, grimacing at the aches that brought up. I was much more aware of myself today. Painfully so. I'd broken out in a fever last night leaving my hair sticky and greasy, my skin felt as though it were wrapped in a layer of dirt and oil.

Goosebumps broke out along my body as a breeze kicked up. I glanced towards the too dark sky from my sleeping bag; the huge chunk of the building that was missing gave me a clear line to the horizon. Radstorm. I watched as the hazard green lightening cracked in the distance, staining the ominous purple and grey sky.

"Hey John."

I didn't have to look to see who it was. Paul. I felt some level of shame trickle through me, though I didn't know why. Was it due to my state of uncleanness? Because I had the rads beat out of me last night, the last of my chems and that awesome knife stolen?

I shook my head sighing, burying my face in my arms. I could already feel the sickness of radiation exposure from the approaching storm. The kid sat next to me, hesitantly placing a hand on my back. It was cool, relaxing.

"Are you okay, brother?" He asked.

I snapped my head up, looking at him closely. Something in his tone was off. I nodded. Stopped, shaking my head as my shoulders clenched, tears burned to escape.

"What happened to me, Paul?" I looked at my hands, "how did I get this bad?"

He looked to the distance, saying nothing.

"M-My father was a well to do politician. Well, he was well off, anyway. Terrible person. I think..." I struggled to find the words I wanted, "I think I've been running away from everything that happened with him for a long, long time. Before the chems even." I laughed in self-depreciation, "I built myself a little hiding place under the docks, crammed it full of books I could steal. I would ditch class to just stay down there all day, no dad. No Guy, no mom. Just these amazing worlds I could hide in." I looked at Paul, as though he'd understand. The way his eyebrows were screwed up said he didn't get it. "I learned so much about our history, about the human body. About fantastical lands and strange time lines..." I rubbed a hand over my face. "I'm a coward, Paul. A coward."

"No." Paul finally spoke, his eyes glittered with anger, "you were a child who developed coping mechanisms. Weird ones." He teased, "people don't read anymore."

I smiled, "I need to go steal a bath. And a brush. And a toothbrush."

Paul shook his head, "I've got you covered." He dropped a small bag of caps at my feet.

I looked at him in apprehension. The shame and pride followed quickly.

"Paul." I picked up the bag. It wasn't as full as I originally thought. "I can't let you-"

"John McDonough." His voice was soft, "there are things about me you don't know. There are things about you I don't know. But, you saved my life once. I can at least help you get presentable. You're trying to lead an army after all. Can't do that looking like a rotting ghoul."

~*~*~

The water slapped against my skin, raining down from a few strategic holes in the steel roof above me. It was boiling hot from the sun, pure heaven. My muscles sighed as they unwound from years of stress, my hair felt weirdly smooth as the grit and grime of living on the streets washed off. I lathered with soap and scrubbed my skin raw, wincing when I came across a lingering bruise or ache from sleeping on hard floors and the general hazards of drifter life.