"Claptrap and Milo stay with me." I had to keep my head tipped slightly to the side while I said it, which probably made the whole thing look less serious than it felt. The clinic was quiet besides the machine running my blood sample on the counter and people moving in the hall outside. I could see part of one guard through the open door, and the other was standing inside near the wall with his rifle across his chest. The woman turned toward me. "The Protectron and the smaller unit are remaining with security while you're under observation."
"I'm saying they're staying with me." The guard near the wall looked over. The woman gave him a quick look and then came back to me. "They are armed machines, Morgan. You were allowed to bring two through the entrance because you refused to leave all of them outside. That doesn't mean we're letting them travel freely through the vault."
"So I should just trust you and your people wont do anything to me." I rubbed my arm where she'd taken blood earlier. The little bit of cotton was still taped there and honestly I wanted it off already, but every time I messed with it the doctor gave me a look so I left it alone.
"That isn't what I said."
"It kind of is." I glanced toward the guard again. His rifle was still hanging across his chest. Mine was not. My laser musket and charge pistol were somewhere back toward security, my bag was also back there being searched or whatever they were still doing with it, and there were a whole lot more people in this vault than me. "You have my guns and now you want the two things I still have that can protect me somewhere else too."
The guard straightened off the wall. "They're twenty feet down the corridor."
"That's not the point." The woman's mouth tightened. "Then explain the point, because right now you're asking us to allow two armed machines deeper into our vault after we've already made an exception for you. Cause it seems you don't trust us."
"Cause I don't." That got a reaction, The guard looked at me like I'd just spat on the floor, while the woman went still for a second before leaning one hand against the terminal. "You came here asking for entry. You asked us for treatment."
"Aye."
"And now you're standing in our clinic telling us you don't trust us."
"Yes."
The guard gave a short laugh, no humor in it. "Unbelievable."
I turned my head toward him. "What?"
"You heard me."
"I did, I just dunnae know what you want me to do with that." I shifted on the medical cot and the paper under me made that annoying crinkling sound. "You don't trust me either. You had nearly ten people with rifles standing there when I came in and every turret on the bridge was pointed my way."
"Because you showed up with seven robots. So stop acting offended when we take precautions."
"I'm not offended." My fingers tightened into a fist.
"You could've fooled me." The woman stepped in before I could answer him. "Enough, Harris." So Harris. Good to know. He looked away but didn't go back to leaning on the wall. The doctor had mostly ignored the argument so far. He was at the counter with my blood, sliding the little glass vial into an analyzer and messing with a row of buttons under the screen.
The woman looked back at me. "Your robots are armed. One has a shotgun and the other has built-in lasers. Security does not know their programming, we don't know what you've done to them, and we don't know if they can be remotely accessed. From our side, keeping them at the checkpoint is the sensible choice."
"You think I dont know that."
She blinked. "Then why are we still having this conversation?"
"Because it's not the sensible choice for me." Harris shook his head again. I ignored him this time. "You have guards. You have turrets. You have locked doors. I had a musket, a pistol and my bots. You took the first two, so I'm keeping Claptrap and Milo with me."
"Keeping them with you isn't a right you have in this vault." I didn't answer straight away. That was a different tone than before. Less trying to convince me and more reminding me where I stood. I looked around the clinic again. "No," I said finally. "It isn't."
She seemed surprised I agreed. "But leaving is." Harris looked back at me. "So that's what this is? You don't get your way and you're threatening to leave?"
"Threatening?" I looked at him. "It's a door, lad. If your rules mean I have to give up everything that can protect me, I'll go back through it."
"You came here injured."
"Minor acid burns."
The doctor finally looked over his shoulder. "Which I would still like to observe."
"Then talk to your people and let me keep my bots." I looked at him. " Cause you said the burns were minor."
"They are. The burns aren't the part I'm concerned about." I looked away from him. The woman caught me looking toward the scanner. "Doctor?"
He turned back to the machine. "Give me a minute."
Harris looked between us. "What's wrong with her?"
"Nothing that I have found."
I couldn't help it. "Then maybe stop saying it like that." The doctor ignored me. He checked the analyzer display, took the vial back out and held it toward the light for a second before putting it into another little rack. "Her radiation reading is still zero. The blood doesn't show anything I'd expect from recent radiation exposure either." The woman went over toward the counter, the robot argument forgotten for about five seconds. "You ran it again?"
"Twice."
"And the scanner?"
"Also twice." The doctor picked up the handheld scanner from beside the sink. He turned it on and ran it over his own forearm. It clicked quietly. Then he held it toward Harris and got about the same. When he moved it toward me it went almost completely silent.
I knew exactly what it was going to do, Still didn't stop everyone else from staring. "There," I said. "Still zero. Can we go back to the actual problem?"
The woman turned. "That is an actual problem."
"No, it's weird or different then normal at best." The doctor gave me a look. "What? I'm not sick."
"You don't know that."
"I do." The room went still enough that I immediately. The doctor looked at me more carefully. "How?"
"Because I feel fine."
"Feeling fine is not the same as being healthy, don't tell me you know you're not sick. I bit the inside of my cheek. "Fine. I don't think I'm sick." The doctor didn't look convinced, but he went back to the counter.
Harris hadn't let go of the other problem though. "You see why we're not putting armed machines in here now?" I looked at him. "No." The hell did this have to do with that? "We don't even know what is going on with you."
"And?"
"And you're an unknown security risk."
"So are you."
"This is my vault."
"You keep saying that like it changes the part where I your just a basic guard."
He took a step away from the wall. "I'm a Vault Eighty-One security officer." His face got harder. "You're not making a good case for yourself."
"I didn't know this was a trial."
"Harris," the woman warned.
"No, she's standing here saying she doesn't trust anyone in this vault while demanding we put two armed machines at her side. If she doesn't trust us, why the hell should we trust her?"
"I didn't ask you to." I shrugged, then regretted it when the bandage near my shoulder tugged. "You shouldn't trust, But you cant get pissy when I dont trust you as well." For a second nobody answered. The woman looked at Harris and he looked back at her.
"You are making this unnecessarily difficult," she said.
"Probably."
"That wasn't an invitation to agree." She closed her eyes for a second, then opened them again. "What exactly happens if we bring them in here?"
"They stand near me."
"That's it?"
"That's it." Her eyes narrowed. Harris folded his arms. "Weapons stay disabled."
"No."
He looked at the woman like he'd just proved something. "And that's the end of it."
"No, it's not."
"You want them for protection but you won't disable the weapons. That's exactly the problem."
"If I disable the weapons then they aren't protection."
"They can still stand next to you."
I stared at him and He stared back. "What exactly do you think standing next to me does?"
"They're machines you apparently trust."
"This isn't about trust." The woman looked over. "Then what is it about?" I rubbed my forehead. We'd gone in a circle and somehow they still wanted me to say it again. "If someone tries to hurt me, I want something that can stop them."
"Inside our vault."
"If you try to hurt me, yes." His hand moved toward his rifle. Mine almost went toward the pistol that wasn't there. The woman stepped between the line of sight without really stepping between us, moving closer to the cot. "Nobody here has threatened you."
"Tell that to this guy." That shut her up for a second. I looked down at my arm and finally ripped the cotton tape off. The tiny mark underneath had already closed up. I balled the cotton in my hand and tossed it toward the little waste bin by the cot. Missed. Shit.
I got off the cot to grab it and Harris shifted immediately. I stopped halfway bent over and looked up at him. He looked at me. "Whats the matter scared of a little girl?." I grabbed the cotten and dropped it in the bin, and sat back down. The doctor was watching now too. "This is stupid," I muttered.
Harris heard me. "Glad we agree."
"Wasn't talking to you." The woman turned back to the terminal, typing harder than before. "Security can keep a guard in the observation room."
"No." She stopped typing. "No?" Harris repeated.
"I don't want somebody sitting in the room watching me sleep."
"You want two armed robots in there."
"Yeah cause they're mine."
"And this is our room."
"Then I'm not sleeping." The doctor looked over. "You need rest."
"I'll rest when I leave."
"You walked here after being exposed to corrosive material today."
"I know what happened to me."
"You also said you killed a super mutant several days ago, travelled from New York, and couldn't remember exactly how long you've been on the surface."
"Cause I wasn't counting days, not because my brain is melting. The doctor put his pen down. "And I know what exhaustion looks like."
"I'm not exhausted."
"You nearly fell over carrying your own bag into the checkpoint."
My face went hot. "I have low strength." This caused the doctor to stared. "I'm weak, Physically always have been." That was at least true enough. The woman shoved back from the terminal chair and stood up. "Alright. Stop." She looked at me first. "You want the two machines in here because you believe you need them to defend yourself."
"Yes."
She looked at Harris. "Security does not want two armed machines in here because we have no reliable way of knowing when they will decide defense is necessary."
"Damn right."
"Good. At least we're clear." I thought she was going to say something else, but she just turned and walked out of the clinic, I watched the doorway. "Where is she going?"
Harris answered. "To speak to the Overseer."
"Could've said that."
"She doesn't owe you a running commentary." The doctor came over with the scanner again. "Arm." I held it out without arguing because at least this was something simple. He ran the scanner over the acid burn, then around the edge of the dressing. The screen showed temperature, swelling, a few little numbers I didn't know off the top of my head.
"Pain?"
"A little." He pressed lightly around the edge and I hissed.
"So yes." The smell of alcohol from the tray next to him caught me again. I scratched at my pants with one fingernail and focused on the scratches in the clinic floor.
The doctor noticed where I was looking. "You alright?"
"Aye."
He waited and I turned to look back at him. "What?"
"Nothing." He went back to the dressing. Harris made a quiet sound that might've been a laugh. I looked over. "You got something to say?"
"No."
"Good." We sat in silence for a while after that. Not friendly silence either. Just nobody having anything useful left to say. The doctor worked with my blood with Harris stayed by the wall. "You mentioned have no illness since leaving the vault."
"Right."
"Nothing? No fever, cough, infection, stomach pain?"
"No."
"After more than a month outside."
"Aye." Harris looked over. "Could Vault One-Five-Nine have altered her?" The woman came back with another security officer and I knew from the look on her face I wasn't going to like whatever answer she'd gotten. She stopped just inside the clinic. "The Overseer isn't approving unrestricted armed robots."
"Then what did she approve?"
Harris looked at her. She didn't look at him. "One guard remains with you. One outside the room. The robots can be brought from the checkpoint to the clinic and later to observation, but they stay passive, weapons lowered, and they do not leave your assigned room without an escort."
Harris immediately pushed off the wall. "Both?"
"Both."
His face darkened. "That's a terrible idea."
"You can take that up with Gwen."
"I will." He looked at me, clearly blaming me for the fact that his Overseer had said yes to something he didn't want. I couldn't bring myself to care. "Defensive protocols stay on," I said.
The woman's jaw tightened. "Within limits."
"If medical staff touch you, they do nothing."
"Unless I tell them otherwise." Harris swore. "What?" I looked at him. "If I'm telling someone to stop touching me, why would I program my bots to ignore that?"
"Because you're a guest in a medical facility."
"That doesn't mean anyone gets to do whatever they want."
The woman stepped in again. "Morgan."
"No. That's a stupid condition." Harris took two steps forward. "And this is why I said no." I got off the cot again. The doctor said my name sharply, but I ignored him. "I'm not saying they'll shoot someone for touching my shoulder. I'm saying I'm not programming them to ignore me if I tell somebody to stop."
"I said medical staff need to be able to treat you without having a shotgun pointed at them."
"And I said they can."
"Then stop adding conditions."
"I'm not adding anything. You are."
Harris looked ready to explode. "This isn't a negotiation between equals."
I looked at him . "Okay."
The woman looked toward him. "Harris."
"No. She needs to understand that. This is our vault. Our people. Our rules. She came to us." I nodded once. "So if the rules are that I have no say once I'm inside, give me my stuff and open the fucking door."
"That's not what I said."
"Sounded like it."
He stepped closer. "You keep twisting everything."
"And you keep wanting me unarmed and separated from my bots while reminding me I'm not equal here. You're doing a great job convincing me."
His face went red around the ears. The other guard moved slightly closer to him, maybe because he knew Harris better than I did. The woman swore under her breath. "Everyone stop talking." She pointed at me. "Your robots will be brought here. They remain passive. They can defend you from an actual attack. They do not respond to routine contact, medical treatment you have consented to, or security escort. If you withdraw consent from medical treatment, you say so. Doctor Forsythe stops. If security needs you to move, they tell you first unless there is an emergency."
Then she pointed at Harris. "And you are not going to keep provoking her because you don't like the decision."
"I'm not provoking her."
"You told a sixteen-year-old girl she's not equal while armed and standing between her and the door." He looked at me, then at her. "I said the negotiation wasn't equal."
"Wonderful distinction. Save it for Gwen." That shut him up. The woman looked back at me. "Can you accept those conditions?"
I thought about it properly. Claptrap and Milo in the room. Guards outside and one inside, apparently. If someone genuinely attacked me, the bots could act. If I told the doctor to stop, he stopped. They weren't taking control of the bots or disabling them. I still didn't like the guard in the room. "So long as the guard is female sure thats fine."
Eventually she turned toward the second guard. "Bring them." Harris opened his mouth and she didn't even look at him. "Enough." He shut it again while the other guard left. I sat back down because now that the argument had stopped my legs remembered I'd been walking for two days and fighting ghouls today. The doctor handed me a cup of water without saying anything. I took it.
"Thanks." The water was cold and clean. I drank most of it before setting the cup beside me. Nobody talked much while we waited. Harris had gone back to the wall, pissed off enough that I could practically feel it from across the room. The woman worked at the terminal. Doctor Forsythe went through my blood results again and wrote things down. I watched the door.
A few minutes later I heard the heavy footsteps. Claptrap came into view first behind the security guard, his metal feet clunking against the clean floor. Milo was right behind him. I stood up which caused the guard to hold a hand out. "Stay where you are."
Claptrap's optic locked onto me. "UNIT MORGAN LOCATED."
"Aye. I'm fine." Milo moved one step forward. "Stay." The guard looked between the two machines. "Commands first." I lifted my Pip-Boy and opened the control menus. Easy. Familiar. Better than arguing with people.
"Claptrap, passive security. Stay with me. Weapons lowered unless I'm under actual attack."
"COMMAND ACCEPTED."
I did Milo through the Pip-Boy, checked the shotgun state, targeting logic, friendly tags. Everything was still how I'd left it. Harris came close enough to see the screen. "Can you tag us friendly?"
"Aye."
"Do it."
I looked up at him and I thought about saying something about his mother but didnt. I added the clinic staff and the guards currently in the room. Temporary friend tags.
"Done."
"What overrides it?"
"Actual hostile action."
"Defined how?"
I sighed and the woman looked over. "Harris." He ignored her. "I'm asking a security question." I turned the Pip-Boy so he could see the screen. "Weapons fire directed at me or them. Bladed attack. Sustained physical assault. Things like that."
"Restraint?"
"Depends." I looked at him. "If I'm trying to stab the doctor and you tackle me, they won't shoot you. If three people start dragging me down a hallway while I'm telling you to let go, that's different."
"And the robot decides?"
"No. I do, unless I can't."
He clearly hated that answer. He looked at Milo's shotgun, then Claptrap's laser arms. "Weapons stay down."
"Aye no shit." I lowered the Pip-Boy and the security guard stepped aside. I walked over to Milo first and put my hand on the top of his casing. Warm metal, little vibration through it. Then I checked Claptrap, mostly his right arm and leg because I knew exactly what damage he already had and wanted to make sure nobody had added anything while they were separated from me.
"You're good."
"STATUS: OPERATIONAL."
I nodded and guided them toward the side of the clinic where they wouldn't block the doctor. Claptrap nearly clipped a tray with one shoulder, so I caught the edge and pushed it away while he turned.
"Watch it."
"OBSTRUCTION NOTED."
Milo settled beside the cot. I sat back down and rested my hand on him without thinking about it. The doctor looked at the two robots now sitting in his clinic, then at me, then at Harris.
"I assume I can continue?"
"Aye."
Doctor Forsythe pulled the stool closer and picked up his clipboard again. "Good. Then we're going to finish the exam before anyone finds something else to argue about." I took another drink of water while he went back to my bloodwork. Milo stayed against my leg and Claptrap stood against the wall. Doctor Forsythe didn't say much for the next few minutes, which I appreciated. He went through the last of the blood results, wrote something down, checked the screen again, then finally stopped messing with the same little vial like staring at it harder would make it give him a different answer. Harris had apparently decided he'd said enough for now as well and stayed near the wall. I could still feel him looking over every now and then, mostly at Milo, but if he wanted to stand there being annoyed that was his problem. I drank the rest of the water and set the cup down while Forsythe came back over with his little light and checked my eyes, made me follow his finger, listened to my chest and back, then had me squeeze his hands. That last one went about as well as expected.
He looked down at our hands after I squeezed. "Again. Harder."
"That is harder."
He looked at me and I stared right back. "I told you I'm weak."
"You said physically weak. I didn't realize you meant this weak."
"Thanks."
"I wasn't insulting you."
"Still sounded like one."
Forsythe let go and wrote something down. I leaned enough to try and see it but his handwriting was terrible. Probably a doctor requirement. He made me push against his hands with my feet next, which went a little better, then checked the reflex under my knee. When he got back to the burns he peeled part of the dressing up carefully, checked underneath and put it back down. The acid from that bloated ghoul had looked a lot worse earlier today than it actually turned out to be, at least on me. Some red skin, a few little blistered spots, nothing that was going to kill me. Starborn Immunity covered poisons better than a normal person too, though not completely, so I had expected about this much. My body was good at dealing with shit now. Still strange sometimes thinking that while remembering what my old one had been like.
"These are already settling," Forsythe said, more to himself than me. "Faster than I expected." Forsythe waited another second before deciding he wasn't getting anything useful out of me and pulled the dressing back into place. "You're not showing any immediate complications. I still want you here overnight, and I'll repeat a few things tomorrow."
"More blood?"
"Probably."
Harris looked over from the wall. "That mean she's moving?" Forsythe nodded. "Whenever the room is ready."
"It is." The woman at the terminal stood and stretched her back before closing whatever she'd been working on. I still hadn't caught her name and at this point I felt like asking would be weird considering we'd spent half an hour arguing. Maybe someone would say it eventually. "Observation room three. Near enough to the clinic that if Doctor Forsythe needs her back it won't involve taking the machines through half the vault."
"Wonderful," Harris muttered.
I looked at him. "You don't have to come."
"I do, actually."
"Shame."
The woman gave both of us a look. "The guard assigned inside the room is Officer Morales."
"Female?"
"Yes."
"Good."
Harris made a noise through his nose but wisely didn't say anything. I slid off the cot and checked my Pip-Boy before moving. Milo came with me immediately and Claptrap pushed away from the wall, his feet making heavy metal knocks against the floor. Forsythe had to move the stool so Claptrap could turn without taking half his clinic with him. The woman picked up my folded lab coat from the chair where I'd left it earlier, then looked at the state of it for a second. Dirt, dried water stains, a bit of old blood that probably wasn't mine, the acid mark down one side and all the little repairs I'd made or had made along the way. It had looked better.
"This going with laundry too?" I looked at her. "You're cleaning my suit?"
"Unless you planned on putting that back on after a shower." I looked down at myself, it wouldnt hurt to get it cleaned. "Yeah. Clean it."
"And the coat?" I hesitated before taking it from her and checking the pockets myself. A few screws, wire, pencil, two caps I'd forgotten about, bit of cloth, one little connector and a tiny flathead screwdriver I definitely would've complained about losing later. I put everything on the counter beside my Pip-Boy hand and then handed the coat back. "Clean it. Don't throw it away."
"I'm not going to throw your coat away."
"It looks like something people throw away."
"That it does."
We left the clinic after that. Harris went first, which was probably better for everyone, then me and Milo, Claptrap behind us with the woman bringing up the back. People in the hall moved aside when they saw us coming. Mostly for Claptrap. He was a Protectron in a Vault hallway, not exactly subtle. A few residents stopped what they were doing to watch and one older man holding a box of something actually backed into a doorway to give us more room. Milo got more staring than Claptrap though. Protectrons were normal enough. Milo very much wasn't. A kid maybe ten or eleven leaned halfway around his mother's side to stare at him until she pulled him back.
I knew roughly what Vault 81 looked like from the game, but knowing and standing in it were two different things. It was bigger and had more people than it had felt on a screen. The walls were still Vault-Tec blue and yellow in places but worn from two hundred years of people touching them, scraping carts through them, fixing things instead of letting them rot.
Harris stopped outside a door not very far from the clinic. "Here." He opened it and Officer Morales was already inside. She was maybe thirty, dark hair pulled back and Vault security armor over the suit, pistol at her hip instead of a rifle. She looked at me first, then Milo, then Claptrap, and I could almost see her deciding how much of her evening had just been ruined.
"You're Morgan?"
"Aye."
"Morales." She pointed toward a chair by the little desk. "I'm assigned here until shift change. I don't care where the robots stand as long as they aren't blocking that door."
"Fine."
Harris looked at me like he expected me to figh but this person seemed nicer then him so he could piss off. The room wasn't huge but it was bigger than I expected. One bed against the wall, a desk, chair, little cabinet, shelves, and another door that had to be the bathroom. There was a vent high up and one of those flat lights in the ceiling that made everything a little too bright. It looked like a Vault bedroom that had been stripped down for medical use. Nothing personal. No pictures, no junk, no clothes shoved under anything. Probably for guests or people who needed to stay near the clinic.
Claptrap fit through the door if he turned slightly. I guided him toward the wall beside the desk. "There."
"POSITION ACCEPTED."
Milo stopped beside the bed on his own. Morales watched both of them but didn't say anything. Harris checked the room anyway, opening the cabinet and bathroom door before looking underneath the bed. I leaned against the wall. "Find the assassin?"
"No." He stood back up. "Bathroom locks from the inside. Main door doesn't." I looked at the main door. Morales answered before I could. "Medical observation. It stays accessible." I didn't like it, but we'd already done this fight enough for one day and she was at least the person I'd agreed could stay in here. "Fine."
Harris looked almost disappointed. Someone knocked on the open door and a Vault woman I hadn't seen before came in carrying folded blue cloth. "Spare suit." She handed it to me. I unfolded it and found a Vault 81 jumpsuit. Clean, soft, not new-new but a hell of a lot cleaner than mine.
"Something wrong?" she asked. "No." I turned it over once. "Just weird wearing someone else's number."
"It's a spare. Laundry should have yours back by morning, maybe later if the coat needs work."
"Thanks." She collected the coat and waited, I looked at her and She looked at my Vault suit. "Oh. Right." There was no point trying to strip out here with Harris still standing in the doorway, so I pointed toward the bathroom. "I'll put everything in there."
"There's a laundry bag under the sink. Leave it outside when you're finished."
"Got it."
She left with the coat. Harris stayed another few seconds, looking at Morales. "You know the conditions?"
"I was briefed."
"Call if anything changes."
"Yes captain." That got the smallest bit of satisfaction out of me. He looked at me once more, then at the robots. "Weapons down."
"Aye, Harris. We know." His mouth tightened and he finally left. The door stayed partly open behind him. Morales sat in the chair with one leg stretched out and picked up a magazine from the desk like she'd already decided the best way to survive this assignment was not talking to me. Honestly, that was fine. I grabbed the clean suit and went into the bathroom, Milo following two steps before I stopped and pointed out.
"Stay there."
I closed the bathroom door and locked it. That little click helped more than I wanted to admit. The bathroom was clean. The tile had stains around the grout and the mirror had a scratch across one corner, but there wasn't mold growing up the wall or rust pouring out of the tap. Toilet, sink, shower with an actual curtain, little shelf with soap and two tiny bottles that had SHAMPOO and CONDITIONER printed on them.
I stared at those for a second.
"Fancy." I set the Vault 81 suit on the closed toilet lid and checked under the sink. Laundry bag like she'd said. I pulled it out, then started getting undressed. Boots first, then the suit peeled down around my waist. It stuck to my back and legs from sweat. The inside smelled worse than I'd realized now that I was in a small room with it.
"Jesus."
I got the rest off and stuffed it into the bag before I could keep judging myself. Socks too. Everything. I emptied the pockets again even though I knew I'd already done it earlier, just habit by this point. Nothing important left besides a bit of dust and one tiny piece of copper wire. Then I looked at the shower. I turned the handle and it coughed once through the pipe, then water came down hard enough that I jumped back. Cold for maybe five seconds, warm after that. I put my hand under it and waited until it was properly hot.
Steam started building against the mirror. I stood there naked with my hand under the water like an idiot. I had wanted this for weeks. Buckets worked. Cold showers worked. Washing out of a sink worked, Though Rose did say I shouldnt do that often. I wasn't going to complain about being able to clean myself at all in the fucking wasteland, but this was different. I stepped under it and almost swore when the heat hit my shoulders.
"Fuck." My whole back tightened for a second then started letting go. I closed my eyes and let the water run through my hair, over my face, down my neck. Dirt immediately started coming off. I could see it running down my arms and legs in grey-brown streaks toward the drain.
The bandages had been covered well enough that I could keep most of the water off them. I turned my shoulder slightly and used one hand to wash around the edges. The soap smelled boring. Clean, plain, probably made somewhere in the Vault. I scrubbed my arms, Tits, stomach, legs, feet, back as well as I could reach, And my ass, then rinsed and watched more dirt go down the drain. There were bruises I had forgotten about until I touched them. One on my thigh from something, probably the ghoul fight. Another at my hip from the bag or falling, I didn't remember. None of it mattered.
My hair was worse. I got the shampoo into it and immediately found knots. Lots of knots. My fingers caught halfway through and I hissed, pulling them free before trying again. Dust, sweat and whatever else had been living in there finally started washing out.
"Fucking hell."
I worked slowly from the scalp down, separated the worst tangles with my fingers and rinsed it. Then shampoo again because the first round felt like it had cleaned the dirt sitting on top of the other dirt. By the second rinse the water stopped turning brown.
I used the conditioner because it was there and because I wasn't stupid enough to turn down free conditioner in the wasteland. I let it sit while leaning one hand against the wall and just stood under the heat. I opened my eyes while my hand was flat against the wall.
I looked down at my legs while I flexed my toes against the tile. I rinsed the conditioner out and turned my back to the water again. The heat hit right between my shoulders and I stayed there until my skin started getting pink. Someone knocked on the bathroom door and I jumped. "Yeah?"
Morales's voice came through. "Just checking."
"I'm alive."
"Good."
Her boots moved away, and I exhaled and rubbed water out of my face. "Fucking guards."
Claptrap's voice came through the door, muffled. "SECURITY STATUS: PRESENT."
"No shit." Morales laughed once from the other room. I covered my face with both hands. At least she wasn't Harris. I stayed in another few minutes before guilt about wasting hot water finally won. Vault or not, water still had to be cleaned, heated, pumped, all that. I shut it off.
The sudden quiet was almost weird. Water dripped from my hair and elbows. Steam had completely fogged the mirror now. I grabbed the towel and dried off slowly, careful around the bandages. My skin felt almost squeaky clean. I hadn't realized how much grime I'd gotten used to until it was gone. I wiped a circle into the mirror with the towel and looked at myself. Freckles visible instead of half buried under dirt. Hair dark red while wet and hanging down past my shoulders in a mess. Bruises looked brighter against clean skin. The healing marks where I'd been shot were still there if I knew where to look, but barely.
Forsythe was going to keep staring at those tomorrow, I wasn't explaining shit. I picked up the Vault 81 suit. The fabric felt nice. Better than mine currently did anyway, since mine had been dragged across half the wasteland. I stepped into it and pulled it up, getting one arm through, then the other. It fit a little loose around the shoulders and waist but not enough to matter. I zipped it and looked at the yellow 81 on the chest.
"Weird." I turned enough to see part of the back in the mirror, Definitely weird. For half a second I looked like I belonged here. I grabbed the laundry bag and my boots. I opened the bathroom door with wet hair hanging everywhere and found Morales still sitting at the desk reading. Milo was exactly where I'd left him and Claptrap stood by the wall.
Morales looked up. "You look less like you've been sleeping in rubble."
I carried the laundry bag out and set it by the door, then sat on the edge of the bed to deal with my boots. Putting clean feet into dirty socks would've been terrible, but thankfully the spare suit pile had included a fresh pair. I pulled them on first and spent maybe three seconds appreciating clean socks before ruining everything with the boots. Milo moved over and stopped beside my knee. I put my hand on his casing. Claptrap turned his optic toward me. "UNIT MORGAN STATUS?"
"Clean."
"STATUS ACCEPTED."
Morales looked from him to me. "He always like that?"
"Aye."
"Must get old."
"No."
She went quiet after that as I sat back on the bed and grabbed the towel again, rubbing it through my hair. The mattress was soft enough that I sank into it more than expected. I hadn't really noticed before the shower because everyone had been standing around talking. Now the room was quieter. Morales at the desk. Milo beside me. Claptrap against the wall. A guard outside somewhere in the hall. I leaned forward, started working my fingers through the knots still left in my hair and listened to the hum of the Vault through the walls. And decided to turn on my radio.