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jowritesfanfiction · 2 years ago

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Kepler

Fandom: Back to the Future

Ships: N/A

Additional Notes: This is part of my mini story/glorified collection of one shots about the many friends Doc makes throughout his life. You can read this one and others on AO3!

Synopsis: Emmett’s first friend comes unexpectedly.

CW: Mention of a death to a dog.

From the age of eleven, Emmett knew he would dedicate his life to science, thanks to a copy of Jules Verne’s Journey to the Center of the Earth he found in his father’s study. The book was on the top shelf, stuck behind a row of books. It took stacking multiple thick encyclopedias for Emmett to comfortably reach the shelf. In retrospect, the book was probably out of reach for a reason, but that didn’t matter.

After reading the book, Emmet became infatuated with all things science. His father encouraged his son’s love of learning and allowed Emmett to learn anything he could in books—assuming he understood half the words. While Emmett’s learning was encouraged, his “experiments” were not so welcomed on account of what almost happened to the house when he tried to understand how fire worked.

Despite the setback, Emmett still wanted to discover something. That “thing” was to attempt his own journey to the center of the earth, just like Professor Otto Lidenbrock in his favorite book. Determined to get there as soon as possible, Emmett began digging in his backyard with a trowel. Unfortunately, his mother wasn’t all that thrilled about it.

“I’m trying to get to the center of the earth.” Emmett explained.

“Where would you get an idea like that?”

“A book.”

His mother raised her eyebrow, expecting an answer.

“This book.” Emmett held up the book.

“Where’d you get this?”

“Papa’s study.”

His mother gave a quick nod and mhm before leaving. “How about you don’t dig in the yard, alright?”

“Okay!”

The backyard may have been off-limits, but that didn’t stop him from trying other places, like the forest. With stolen shovel in hand, Emmett ventured to the forest.

For an hour, he had made what he thought was good progress in his work. Emmett stood up, sighed, and wiped his forehead of sweat, then laid on the dirt floor.

“We made good work, huh?” he said to no one in particular.

Something barked in return. Emmett sat up and looked around for where the bark could have come from.

“Hello?”

A bush barked. Emmett crawled over toward the bush. Slowly, he pulled the branches away to reveal a small creature in the bush.

“Were you barking?”

The creature barked back and wagged its tail. The creature itself was thin and had matted fur. Its paws were dirty and filled with mud. This creature was, most definitely, a dog.

Emmett looked up at the sky; it was a little after noon. He could stay out later, just as long as he came home in time for dinner.

“Do you want to help me dig a hole to the middle of the earth?” he asked the dog. The dog barked.

Together, the two continued digging the hole. Well, to be fair, it was more Emmett digging and the dog giving moral support.

After a while, the sun began to make its way toward the horizon.

“We should go home,” Emmett told his friend, “Mama’ll be looking for me if we don’t. She’ll be so happy I found a friend!”

Back at the Brown home, Emmett made his grand entrance with his new friend. Strangely, it did not go as anticipated.

“Where did you find that…that…thing?” his mother squealed.

“In the woods! We started digging toward the center of the earth!”

“Emmett, you can’t bring animals from the woods into the house. They can have diseases and things.”

“But he doesn’t have anything wrong with him! Can’t he stay?”

“I don’t see why not.” Emmett’s father said.

“No, it cannot stay!” his mother retorted.

“Sure it can. Come on, son, let’s get this animal cleaned up.”

Emmett carried his friend upstairs to the bathroom and into the bathtub. With his father’s help (though, it was mostly his father doing all the work), Emmett was able to clean up the dog.

“Do you know what I’m going to name him?” Emmett asked.

“No. What?”

“Lav-o-see.” Emmett announced, completely butchering the pronunciation.

“What?” his father understandably asked.

“After that guy who discovered fire.”

“You mean Antoine Lavoisier?” corrected his father, “And he didn’t discover fire. He just found that oxygen was part of making fire.”

“Yeah, him!”

“Well, I must say it’s an awfully long name for a dog.”

“How long are dog names s’posed to be?”

“Usually, they’re one or two syllables.”

“Oh. Then, what are other scientists?”

“I don’t know,” his father shrugged, “why don’t you go look through that list of yours?”

“Okay!” Emmett beamed, rushing down to find the list of scientists he had and back to his father.

“I found it!”

“Good. How about you find a good name, now.” his father suggested. By now, Emmett’s dog was being dried with a towel.

“Hmm. How about Galileo? No, not Galileo, that’s too long. So’s Edison. Maybe Nikola could be his name.”

“Nikola?”

“Nikola Tesla.”

“Oh, I see.” his father nodded, “That one seems pretty long, too.”

“Nikola isn’t a dog name anyway.” Emmett scanned his list again. “Maybe he could be Kepler?”

The dog barked.

“I think that’s a yes.” his father laughed.

“Kepler it is!”

From that day forward, Kepler and Emmett were inseparable. Where Emmett went, Kepler was bound to be right behind. They were always off having one adventure after the other.

After Emmett gave up trying to reach the Earth’s center (somehow Emmett hadn’t anticipated how far the Earth’s center was), he turned to trying to teach Kepler tricks with different treats; mostly meats and scraps of bread.

From his experiments, Emmett gathered that Kepler liked hamburger meat the best. Kepler was also able to sit, lay down, stay, play dead, speak, and fetch on command. Emmett and Kepler made a great team. After 5 years, Emmett learned an important lesson: that nothing is forever.

That morning, Emmett had woken up late and went downstairs to be greeted by his father with a solemn face.

“Emmett…” his father began, “it’s Kepler.”

“What is it?”

“Kepler’s dead.”

Nothing felt real at that moment. It couldn’t be true. Kepler was still here. He had to be.

“Your mother took him to be put down this morning. I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry.

Now it had to be real. His father rarely said those two words, and when he did, he meant it.

“Kepler’s dead.” Emmett repeated.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Do you think Kepler knew we loved him?”

“I know he did.”

#fanfic writing #fanfic #fanfiction #bttf fic #bttf #back to the future #doc brown #emmett brown #doc emmett brown #writing #writeblr #my fanfic #fic: doc’s dogs

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ziracona · 1 year ago

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Playing OWB, I always knock out lobotomites because they're victims, instead of kill them. Which sucks, because I only have boxing tape on me. It ain't easy :'-) but I've had several weird what must be glitch encounters with ones that are marked hostile but quit attacking now, and my experiences got me thinking about story stuff in OWB, so a little piece from the POV of a lobotomite experiencing my Courier 6. Which is a very interesting and fragmented pov to write, but I liked doing something very different.

I see something leaving the big house.

They come one by one usually, the ones not like us. They hurt us. Always.

Everything here hurts.

So, we kill them. We stop them.

One of us makes a sound in his throat, nods towards the shape. We’re all alert with the sound, turn to look. Take out weapons.

I draw my gun. My fingers know the trigger. Know the barrel like it’s another finger. I aim at the shape. It walks towards us and pauses at the top of the stairs, sees us see it. Takes a step back.

Good. Maybe an easy fight for us then.

The man who pointed the figure out charges, drawing his spear. Another of us runs with him, saturnite fist ready. I stay back behind, and shoot.

I hit it. I see my bullet clip the shoulder. The thing cries out and falls back a step. Somehow, not hurt bad. Armor, I guess. We don’t have it. I have the dress they give at a hospital. I don’t remember what I had before.

It makes me angry, so I walk closer, keep shooting.

My companions reach it, and I see them fighting. I see the figure has a gun on their hip, a spear at their back. But, they don’t draw the gun. No bullets maybe? They hit, bare fists. Pound, pound, pound. Crack, crack, crack.

Cuts open up on them, along their face and body, their back, their hands. They jam something into their side and fall back a step, and I see cuts close like magic. They’re afraid though. Eyes big. Surely, just fists against us, we must win.

But we don’t. It fights fast, hard, and above all, with stamina. It won’t go down. Heals itself again and again somehow, and hits and hits until the leader goes down. I feel a pang of fear. The second goes down a few seconds later, a fast upper-cut from this things. Then it turns to me.

I feel real fear. But. Surely. I must win, against this? A human. Wrapped fists. Nothing else.

It meets my eyes, and I see determination. It rushes me.

Panic. I fire, I fire, I fire. I know I hit it. A bullet even grazes its head. But then it’s on me, and a fist finds my face.

Pain. Hurts, bad. I lose strength from it. I keep trying to shoot, and I hit it, even so close, but it hits me too. Crack, Crack, Crack.

I feel myself breaking down. It gets me in the head, and I’m gone.

I think ‘I have died?’

Fear.

Then I’m gone.

Only. I’m…not?

I…wake up.

Not sure when. …Later. It’s gone now.

I sit up, head aches, confused. Why? Must have thought I was dead, I guess. But, I reach for my gun. It’s gone. Stolen. But everything else is here. My cloth I wear, my head strap I can’t get off, the lighter I picked up. And…an apple?

Confused more, I feel it in the gown pocket, take it out.

Fresh. Fresh apple. Smells…good? I take a bite, because I am hungry. It tastes good too.

Amazing. Usually all I eat is meat from something killed, or maybe old spoils found. Stale chip, can of beans, or if very lucky, these cakes of falling apart breads with sugars in tiny boxes. This is fresh, like it’s not old at all. Pretty, bright red.

I eat it all. Around me, I see the other two get up too. Alive. One takes out a pear. Confused too. I think about fighting him for the pear, but I haven’t finished my apple, and he eats the pear by the time I do. The other has an apple too. We eat. We move on.

I see the human again, same day maybe. Later. Far away from the big dome now. It’s leaving one of the smaller houses, full of horrible things. I see it from a distance and don’t know it’s the same one. Just hear fighting. I’m with different members of the group, and they run off. I follow. We see the figure fighting off the snakedogs. It has a big fist, like a saturnite fist, but bigger. It’s punching off their heads. I don’t recognize it. Just the saturnite fist weapon, and that it isn’t one of us. I draw my gun, and start shooting. The other two rush in, hoping to get to it while some of the snakedogs are up, so it will be more overwhelmed.

It sees us coming. I watch its head snap up. See panic through the visor I can’t take off. It hurries to turn, punch a snakedog. The head comes off. Last one. Turns to face the others of my group as they reach it, and I see it let go of the fist. Drop the big, powerful thing on the ground, and swing an empty fist at the one of us with a flaming sword.

Then I recognize it. I think ‘So strange. Lost its good weapon?’ and I remember. I remember, from this morning, and I see it closer and see it has the same long blue coat on, red hat.

I am not mad by the armor this time. I am confused. Curious. Still nervous too. Have to kill it before it kills us. I shoot, watching, to see how it heals. See if it can walk off bullets more. See if it keeps hitting.

It does. Keeps taking out little white…things. Like scissors. Some of me thinks ‘that’s a heal’ but what that means? I don’t know. It is a heal though. Makes flaming knife cuts go away. Good for it, because it takes punishment I couldn’t believe. Hits back with little wrapped fists. Crack, crack, crack. Hit, hit, hit. I hear, I see. I watch my people go down.

I hesitate as it turns, bloody, and rushes me again, breathing hard. I remember to keep firing. It knocks the gun out of my hand and I look down in surprise. Blink. It hits me. I hit back. Panic now. Remember it will kill me. Hit, hit, hit, but it hits harder. I go out.

I think, ‘I died.’

But, I wake up. Again. Before me, the other two are already up. Starting to stand, and looking for weapons gone now. I look for my new gun, sad. Know the thing took it again. It did. But there’s an apple. Fresh. My pocket, again. Pink apple this time. I hold it and smell it. Think ‘where it gets the apples?’ And eat it.

So good. Even better than red apple.

The others have things too. The knife companion takes out a drink. Fights a while before biting off the cap, and drinks it. I am very jealous. Almost jump him for it. Too busy thinking. Other has apple too.

I think hard.

Wonder.

I see it again, going to find a new gun. On my way out, I hear guns, and I follow, careful. Haven’t got new gun for me yet. Very hard like that to stay alive.

But, there it is. Blue coat, bright red hat. Tall. I see it shooting snake dogs again. Shooting the skeletons in the suits that help us sometimes. A dog with robot legs jumps it, and it punches that one. Interesting. I am curious.

Once it leaves, I sneak up, look at the dog.

No apples…

I keep following.

I see some of us attack it soon. Another group. I think about helping, but, I want apples. I don’t want to get hit again, though. So, this is my idea.

It hits them, like it hit me. It gets hurt, bad, doing it. But keeps healing. Keeps hitting. And, it wins.

After, it breathes hard. I hear it talking to itself. Sounds like a woman, maybe. Not close enough to hear it well. It spotted me once, so I’m careful now. Still no new gun, you know? Got to be careful.

I sneak little closer though. Watch.

It puts its big saturnite but bigger fist back on, wipes blood off forehead. Walks over to the unconscious bodies it fought, and I see it take their guns, their spears. Leaves bugglegum, leaves a drink, leaves a pear. An apple.

After trading food for gun or knife, it goes on. Once it’s gone on enough, I sneak over. I pick up the stuff it left. I take the gum and put it in my gown pocket. I eat the pear. I open the drink and it hurts my teeth, but it’s worth it. So good! A part of me tastes it, and I want to..cry?

Confused, I stop walking. Look down at it. Drink a little more.

I think ‘sarsaparilla,’ but, I don’t know what sarsaparilla is. Something in me very desperate asks me to know, but I don’t remember. It’s a brown word, and a sweet word. Spicy. A tree? I try, but I know I am wrong. I sit, hold the drink. Drink it slow between two rocks, hidden safe in a shadow. Hold sarsaparilla. There is a word on the bottle. Can’t read it, but I trace it with finger. Think. Girl on the bottle—picture. I almost remember something, but…

It hurts too much. Can’t. Put head in hands, breathe. Pain goes away. I keep drinking. In head, I see a picture of a tree that isn’t there. I sit beneath it in my head. I drink this in my head too, but a different one. It’s a good feeling, but, sad.

I don’t understand why.

Tree smells. Like…sarsaparilla? Brain says ‘pine.’ Not sarsaparilla. But I can’t remember ‘pine.’ Good word. Green word.

I get up.

I keep the apple. I hold it in pocket, and take out to smell. But don’t eat. Saving it. Save the bottle too, to smell. Smells like sarsaparilla and thinking about green pine words.

I chew the gun thoughtful, and try to find blue coat again.

I find her pretty slow this time. So fast! Unbelievable. All the way across the empty, she is sneaking. I run into her—almost for real. See her slide against a wall and hold breath when I almost step on her. I don’t want punched unconscious again. Too much hurt, even for apple. Besides. I have apple. If she sees it, what if she doesn’t leave new one too? So I pretend not to see. Keep walking.

Mutter, like she did alone.

She buys it.

Very proud, I walk around a ways, then sneak back.

Hah!

Worked. Very, very well. She is sneaking off towards the big robots. NO clue I sneak after!

Hmmm…Big robots…

I am nervous. Those will shoot me. I got new gun off a box, but not great gun. Big robots sometimes shoot missiles. Besides, she won’t leave apple on big robots, so nothing to get.

Still, I follow. Too interested now.

I see her checking out already dead robot, poking at stuff. Hm. Closer, I see her wipe forehead, and past bangs, she has head marks almost like mine. But, not one of us… We would be able to tell. Can always tell. And, she doesn’t act like…? Must be wrong?

Hm.

Some of us hear her poking around. I pull back, and watch her fight in fascination. Some of the big robots hear the commotion as she hits my people off her, and they come running too. Uh-oh, I think, because they will shoot right through us. To surprise, I see her panic too. She looks ‘uh-oh’ at them, and shoves one of us off her. She snags gun off her shoulder, big, long rifle, and shoots a robot. It falls, but two more come. I see one of us take bullets from it and stumble back. She sees too, runs towards the shot man, and moves between him and robot. I see her get shot. She takes it like she does, and shoots the robot twice. It falls. One left. But she pauses, to look back at the man. He’s alive. Confused. And hitting her with his saturnite fist. She grimaces, falls forward, misses a shot at robot, and ignores him. Shoots robot. All three of my kind attacking her are still up, and one shoots her, knocks off aim.

Uh-oh, I think, more worry in the uh-oh. She is not doing as well.

Still, she ignores the man shooting her. Takes shot at robot, using free hand to block a hit from the spear the last member of their group has. Robot goes down this time.

Bloody and relieved, she turns, frantically starts hitting them. Amazed, I watch. She takes down all three.

Bloody, barely able to stand, she huffs. Grabs a chunk of broken concrete, and slides to ground against it. Sits there, tilts head back.

“This is the worst,” she says mournful.

Tired, she raises her wrist. What I thought was another, broken saturnite fist is on her left arm. She raises it. Taps it. I hear sound come out of it. Songing.

I remember…this sound.

Been…I think a long time.

Woman’s voice, but not her, plays from the arm. Says words my ears don’t know anymore. But, says not many words. I like that. Same words keep being said. ‘Night.’ ‘Your.’ ‘We.’ ‘Where.’ ‘When.’ ‘Begin.’

I don’t remember ‘night.’ Don’t remember ‘begin.’ Don’t remember…’when, where.’ I remember ‘we.’ We is…me, plus someone else. Me and someone.

I am proud; I remember.

I never remember.

But I know ‘We.’

She has no we though, unless it is the woman with song in her wrist. Many of us, just one of her.

I listen to the song too. She sings with it, quiet, just a few words. Just the last words, holding the last one long, much longer than the song. She turns off the thing on her wrist, but holds the song word. Then sighs, lets it go.

Stands alone, looks at the bodies.

Odd expression on her face. I wonder with a strange chest feeling, from where I hide in shadows, if she will get angry and crush them under her feet.

She does not.

Takes their weapons, slower than before, wincing as she stoops. Leaves a drink, leaves a cake box, leaves an apple.

I follow her for the next two days.

Sometimes, I lose her. She will go in a building, and I will not do that. Too many monsters. She maybe can be shot 400 times. I die if shot 400 times. I do not want a plant to eat me. I do not want to be explosion’d by robot.

Sometimes, she is just so fast, I lose her.

But, she is very loud. Thankful for that. Never lose her for too long.

I eat a lot of delicious apples.

Always keep one on me, too, to look at. To smell.

If I find the drink that smells like green word ‘pine’ and the brown word thought ‘sarsaparilla,’ I drink it, and keep the bottle to smell, replace the last with it.

She does the same thing, always. Will kill snakedogs. Kill robots, kill suits with skeletons, kill scorpions, kill bugs. Kills robot dog if scared. Never kills us.

Don’t know why. Won’t, though. Always takes weapons, always knocks out with wrapped fists, always leaves a little gift.

I don’t know if the gift is trade, or maybe, I think, ‘sorry’? Can’t remember what it means, but it makes sense. It thinks in my head like ‘backing off’ a little maybe. It seems right?

I don’t know for sure. I keep following. Sometimes, if she thinks she is alone, she turns on the song. It is not always that song, but that song she hears the most. It’s the best, because the others are too fast with too much words. That one is slow, very few words, very short, and a word I know. I like to hear it.

A couple times, she spots me, and I have to run away. She doesn’t chase if I do, though, so no more punching. Good, because head still hurts a little from before. Girl punches hard…

Day two, late, she sees me and I run and she calls out. I keep running till I’m far, and check to see if she is watching. She is. Standing still, staring at me. I pause. She crouches, puts out her hands, palms to me. No weapon. I know her fists are weapons though. Very painful.

I watch still, interested. Look back. She calls again, soft. Motions towards herself.

I think she is trying to lure me back.

Too smart, I don’t do that. I keep running, hide.

Sneak back after a few minutes, from a side. Still, she is watching where I went, head tilted.

Strange look on her face. Sad and not sad at same time.

I think about that.

Third day.

I see her fight many things.

Robot scorpions (10), many of us (many), big robots (4), different kind of big robot (2), skeleton suits (forgot to count), green plant monster (2, very bad), snakedog (18 maybe).

Good day for me. Lots of food. Found a glowing drink. Maybe saw god after drinking it. Was funny again for a minute too.

Felt very happy.

I like following her. Very interesting to do. Different. I forgot about different. Different is not very safe, but is other things. Like full of food.

She is doing better. Avoids places with big robots mostly now. Sneaks more. Walks on the big pipes a lot, which makes harder to follow her because if I do, she sees me and have to hide. Still, I am better at following now too. Getting pretty skilled.

And then, she gets too close to us.

I don’t realize, because I watch her, not where she goes. But we get close to the cave. To home cave.

I don’t realize, until one of us runs past and sees me, and calls to me a sound I know. ‘Again!’ A call to fight. One of the words we remember.

I stand up automatic at the sound, then blink, see more and more of us. Not just from by me, from past too. Maybe eleven, twelve? So many. She was looking at a box, but hears us coming. Looks up and sees. Tries to run.

She can’t get past. Too many come in from the left side of the big rocks now, and there is nowhere up on the rocks to go. She doesn’t see how many are on my side yet. Starts trying to fight. We push her into a corner. I don’t realize I’ve followed until I’m at the edge of the group, watching up close as she punches one of us unconscious like before.

I am waiting for her to win and waiting for her to die. Different parts of memory both sure of outcome.

I feel nothing.

Just far far away.

Then I am shoved forward. I am close to her, watching. Right on her.

She is scared. Hits me. I fall back, surprised. Two jump her from behind with knives.

I see her heal herself, but too many of us from too many angles at once. We are winning for once.

She tries to push through and run.

Almost makes it, but one of us catches her on fire. Loses sight in the fire, loses footing. Falls. Snaps an ankle when she hits rock below. We go after her like a wave.

I think ‘she is going to die now,’ without anything beyond thought. Then I think ‘I can take all the apples off her if she dies.’

But. I don’t want them that way.

I am sure they will not taste so good if I take them off her pockets.

I am suddenly very frustrated.

If they kill her, the apples won’t be the same at all.

I push forward, push past.

They don’t fight me. We are all fighting her.

I see her struggling. Made it up to one foot. I see the gun at her hip. I see the bigger than a saturnite fist on her belt. I see the spear on her back. Still, she hits with fists. She got some of us, unconscious. But we are still five, and she is trying to heal as I get close. Jams the little white thing into her side as I reach her. One of the others hits her so hard, he knocks it out of her side, and she cries out. Not a sound like the song. I realize she is about to go down.

She sees me.

I hit her.

She falls, covered in blood from guns and knives and bruises from fists.

I go down on top of her.

The others make sounds. Want to see what she has too. I growl at them and snap, and they back off. They are all hurt from her punches, but she only hit me once. I have my gun.

I look back down at her as they back away, lose their interest.

I try to remember death and unconscious, the way to tell. Heart tells. Heartbeat.

I pick her up from shoulders, put my ear to chest, listen. There is a sound. Brain doesn’t think heartbeat sound, but what other sound in chest is there? Doesn’t matter, I think, because sound is alive. Dead is quiet.

That seems sure to me, so, relieved, I pick up the blue coat woman, and put her over a shoulder.

We are by my home, so I turn. The others ignore me now. I claimed the body, it’s mine. We bring meat home. We bring findings. We bring anything we want.

I pass into the cave, past the graves we put outside, past some of the things we keep. Past a few of the others inside, with their own beds and memories, and special things like my apple and my bottle, but not as good.

Keep walking, far in. Find my little bed. Raised bed, like a table, but soft. I think it was for hospital once, like my cloth I wear. I tap the dolls I hung from the post by the bed. It’s nice to be home.

Set her body on the bed table. Put ear to the chest again to be sure, but it makes its not quite heartbeat sound.

Good, I think, You are alive.

That’s alright then. She will get back up and leave apples. We keep going like before. All will be good.

I felt nervous, but now I feel okay.

Still, after a few minutes, she is still quiet. I listen several times. Chest sound is going. The blood from cuts stopped, but she is not waking up fast.

With time, I get curious. Poke around a little. Don’t go through pockets, because I don’t want to know how many apples. But I remember the marks I saw once, and I push back her hair.

I am right. There are cuts around her head too. I feel for my own. Mine still hurt. She has them, like all of us, and I am excited, then confused. If…she is one of us, why can’t we tell? Why we kill her? Why she fights us? I’m not remembering. We can just tell, with each other, if they are us. She is not. Not sure how I know. But I don’t know why now.

She has our marks though, I think, confused again. Marks, but not us. Strange.

Maybe she is broken.

I can’t remember where we got marks. I try, and shudder. My head says ‘don’t look.’ It scares me. Like the answer will kill me if I look behind the corner to see it. I quit looking.

Instead, I trace the marks on her head.

She makes a sound of pain, and scrunches her face. Her eyes open. She blinks, squints, finds me above her. I tilt my head, forget to be scared of punches. Relieved it didn’t take so long to not be dead.

Behind me, I hear an angry hiss.

I turn, and to surprise, there is one of the others. He gets close, trying to look past me. Sees the girl, and snaps at me. Anger, alarm. Pushes past.

I realize to surprise he is going to grab her.

“No!” I hiss back. Grab his arm, drag him hard to the side and shove back.

He falls, and drags himself up, angry. Others hear, come towards us. See her, start to hiss and shout. Start to try to get her too. I swing at the first who comes, and hit hard with body of my gun.

“Stop you!” I warn in a growl.

She is MINE! Why are they -?!

They do not stop. They come again, try to get at her. Hiss, growl, call out. I shove one, hit another.

“Stop you!” I shout louder. Behind me, I hear the girl move. Look, and see her trying to sit up.

I worry she will hit me too.

A gun crack. I turn, see one of us with a rifle. Look back, worried, as I hear her cry. She is holding an arm. New, fresh blood. No, no, no! She was so close to dead. More hits, she dies! No more anything!

Enraged, I raise my own gun. She will not kill us. I will. I shoot him.

I hit.

The others attack me then.

I shoot, I hit, and I don’t remember. Something gets me, hard, in the head, then another.

I go down.

I think very angry, very sad, it is not fair. Can’t remember why this is cruel. It is not right though. It’s…it’s….

Gone then.

I am sure I am dead this time.

But, I wake.

I think, fuzzy, ‘maybe a new apple.’ Feel relief.

Everything hurt.

But, something is good too. …The ground is good. I used to know it. It feels familiar. Like I could sleep here forever maybe.

I try and open my eyes, because that seems okay.

It’s harder than I think. Eyes feel heavy, tired. Head is wrong…er, than usual. Not sure why. Everything is fuzzying, like I am dying from no water, but in a way that feels warm and good. Like dying, if I liked it.

There is light, and as eyes start to work, I see blue coat looking down at me.

I am not so worried, because I know she will just hit me and leave an apple if she notices I am not dead.

I decide that is okay. Watch, stunted, as she moves. She sees me see her then. Stops fiddling with this thing above me, and turns to face.

“Hey,” her voice is soft, like water when I am hot in the sun, cools me, “You’re okay. Just hold still, okay? I’m not gonna hurt you.”

I don’t know the words. I think ‘you’ maybe is me. But not the rest. It feels familiar though. She doesn’t talk like she will bite. I am too fuzzy to care. Just blink eyes heavy, watch her. Something is stuck in my arm I notice, and I wonder if that will hurt me, but it’s hard to feel worried. Hard to feel anything but fuzzy.

“Can’t you do anything?” she asks something behind her.

I don’t know those words. I thought ‘you’ was me. But, she is not looking now.

“Not without a brain,” comes a new voice.

I do feel panic then. She will hit and leave an apple. Anything else kills me.

I struggle to sit up so I can fight or run away.

So hard to do, and that scares me more.

“No no!” she calls, and I know that word. Not a good one. “Hey, easy,” she says, catching me with her hands and trying to push me back down, “Just calm down.”

Her voice is soft, but I am very scared. I struggle back, trying to see the other voice. I see no one, and that is bad. Could be anywhere.

The blue coat lets go with one hand and taps the thing stuck in my arm quickly. I suddenly feel calmer, almost like I might throw up, but so fuzzy I want to shut my eyes. I try to struggle, but I forget why as the fuzziness gets heavier. After a few seconds, the blue coat’s hand lifts carefully off my chest. I can’t remember why I was getting up before, so I lay still. It seems better there.

“Look,” she says, glancing behind her again, “I will GET you a brain—the right one! But there has to be something in the meantime. He’s not brain dead! He doesn’t act routine. His pockets are full of stuff I’ve left behind. He’s been following me. They all keep keepsakes around. They’re not brain dead, not totally. The connection must at least be marginally existent for them!”

“I can’t help you without his brain,” says the same man voice before. Still, I see nobody. That seems worrying still, but not enough to move for now.

“What about you?” asks the blue coat in frustration, turning in another direction, “Switch—lights!” she adds, sounding excited, “Smart lights!”

“Oh, good idea sweetie!” comes another girl voice. Not the wrist voice, and not blue coat.

Lights switch on around me then, bright, blinding, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

And feel.

Oh my god.

Despair, and horror, revulsion, and agony, hate, terror. I am filled. I can’t speak. I can barely think and stay alive.

I remember. Things I can’t usually understand.

There was a robot. Arms and knives, whirring saws. I was held down, screaming. I remember the vices, the grips. I remember the scoop, ripping out my brain. Metal pieces screwed into my skull.

No, I think. Praying for the understanding to go away.

It stays. It plays and replays. I see other lobotomized people, I see memories of killing. Eating raw meat. Animal. Not a person anymore. Not anything.

I am shaking. I can almost remember. Half remember words, half remember feelings and thoughts. Half remember people. I know I loved them, but I can’t remember what they were, I can’t remember their faces. I see them, then forget them immediately.

I can’t remember my face. I can’t remember my name.

I remember the snapping of greymatter as my brain went out.

I remember things…I remember pieces of things.

I remember the pine tree and pine is a word, not the color green, but I can’t remember what it looked like anymore. Why I loved it.

I don’t know who I am.

“I…I’m already dead,” I whisper. I find words again, and those are them. I feel myself remember how to cry, and I do, because I feel too much despair and terror to keep inside. I have to get it out. I would eject it any way I can.

This is a person, above me. I know that now.

I see her. Try to ask for her to help me, but I don’t know how to fix me. I don’t know what to ask. I don’t know how to explain.

I try, to find the words. ‘My brain,’ I think, ‘please.’

But I can’t. I can’t find the words I think, not as words I can remember to speak. I know what happened, but human words are gone.

I’m dead. I’m a corpse.

“It’s okay,” says the blue coat woman. I see worry in her face. Her hand touches my shoulder.

I spasm with my shaking.

Terror in me, I realize the clarity I have can go away.

I lose my sanity completely.

Terrified, I find motor control and reach a hand to her and grab her arm. “Help me.”

I find words. “Help me help me help me!” I beg. Find the arm with my other hand, cling to her. Try to drag myself up to her and hold on tighter, afraid now she will leave me to be dead again. That she will turn off whatever she turned on to raise me from my grave. “Please please please! Please help me! Help me! Help me! Help me! Help me, please, please, please help me! Please help! Help me!”

I am sobbing. She is answering me, but I don’t hear it past my wails for several tries.

“I’ll help you, it’s okay! I’m going to fix you—I’ll fix you! I’ll help you,” she calls back, and I don’t know the words.

I can only think ‘Help me’—don’t forget don’t forget the words oh please please don’t forget don’t lose them they’re the only words I know to save me. I keep using them. ‘Help me help me help me.’ I am trying to climb up her arms and dig my fingers into her spine so she can’t be rid of me. So I won’t die in the cracks of the ground I’ve been living in. Terrified like I can breathe fear and it is me.

Her arms go around me and she goes down onto the bed with me, wraps her legs and arms around me, buries my head against her chest. Lays her head on top of mine. Holds tight. I cling back. Shaking. Trying to grab more and more and more, until I realize I have grabbed her finally as solidly as I can. My hands still fidget. I plead and plead and plead until I lose my unused voice. I can only hear choked, awful whispers from my throat, but still I try. Finally, past my own dying begs, I hear her making sound back.

I begin to hear it slowly, very slowly, when I can’t hear me anymore.

She clings to me, holding strong, but not crushing. She is saying, “It’s okay.” She says. “You’re going to be okay. I will fix you. I will heal you. You aren’t dead. You’ll be alive again. I promise. It’ll be okay.”

‘Alive again.’

I hear that.

I think ‘again, that’s in the song.’

‘Begin again,’ I know the words now. The meaning.

I feel some kind of clarity. Comfort. Like the song was a promise too. Like the right words.

“Alive again,” I start trying to repeat. I can’t hear myself beyond a hiss anymore, but I try. I try, I try, I try.

She must hear it somehow. She says, “Yes, alive again. I’ll fix you. I promise. It’s okay. Calm down, okay? I can heal you.”

Heal.

I think of the little white…stimpacks, I almost remember. ‘Heal.’

I think of closed cuts.

Heal.

I try to shut my eyes. Try to not cry anymore.

So tired. Maybe I will die from the crying. I worry sincerely then that I might.

“There you go,” she whispers, and her grip loosens, “It’s okay.”

I panic. “No,” I beg, opening my eyes, shaking again, trying to find her face and pull her closer to me, “No don’t go Apple don’t go please!”

I am crying again. I see her face, surprised. Pain. She must be hurt too.

“Don’t put me back please,” I weep, “Don’t make me like I was please please! Do anything! Anything! Don’t break me again, please! Please don’t!”

I think she will cry.

“I won’t.” Her voice shakes.

I am too scared to believe her.

Trembling all along my body, I tug my head against her chest again and try to hold tight to make it hard for her to go. I can’t breathe slowly, and I can’t get enough breath in my lungs. It scares me too. I am afraid it means I am already dying again. So soon.

“No please,” I whimper, “Please Apple. Please. Don’t hurt me anymore. Don’t break me again. I’m sorry. Please. Don’t break me. Don’t kill me again. Please, I want to be a person. Don’t take me away. Don’t. Please don’t. Help me. Please, please. Please. Help.”

“Okay,” she promises, not moving anymore, “Okay.”

She stays a long time. I beg, and cry, and plead. She says words I remember and words I don’t and words I half know, voice soft like the bed, and sad, worried. Kind.

She holds on to me.

I am so exhausted from begging and crying and being a corpse, I lose consciousness finally, after hours.

I’m already dead.

I was the whole time. I just didn’t know it.

When I wake up again, I feel heavy. Stiffness like a corpse. I am sure that is what I am now. I am afraid to open my eyes and see it. I know she will be gone. Everything is gone.

But, I open my eyes.

She is still there.

I am curled up on her, clinging. She is quiet, watching me. Awake, and still there. She did not leave me.

“Hey,” she says softly. I stare. “How are you doing?”

I try hard to remember what that means. Makes my head ache to try.

But.

…’am I okay’. I turn the sound into words into meaning. Try to go the other way and turn meaning into words into sound.

“I am alive?” I check worriedly.

She nods. “Yes.”

I think. My voice cracks. “I can stay alive?”

“You will,” says Apple, “I promise.”

I cry again. Pull myself closer to her, worried. “You help me?” I ask when I can make words.

“Yes,” she promises, arms wrapping gently around me, “I’ll help. Don’t worry. We’ll fix you up. Like new. I’m really good at medicine; I’ll make sure you’re okay.”

I try to express gratefulness, but all the words I can think of are ‘We.’ That she called us ‘we’. Me, plus somebody else. Her, and me. Not alone now. Not alone.

“We?” I manage.

“Yes, we,” she agrees, “We’re together now. You’re not alone.”

I try to believe it. Try to calm down. “Two of us?” I suggest.

“Two of us,” she agrees, and there’s something important in her face.

#Fallout New Vegas #Old World Blues #Fallout New Vegas fic #Minka Pripo #Courier 6 #fallout fic #labotomites #The people she's talking to are the Auto Doc and Light Switch AI in the Sink (hence the smart lights being activated to up intelligence in #humanoids in the area). sorry you all had to find out I kill the robo dogs if I get scared this way I'm sorry #but I was afraid they'd kill Roxie :'-] her health so so bad #labotomite oc #I gotta name the man uhhhhhhhh. Well he doesn't remember his name. So. What would /she/ call him. or he call himself?#me writing

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