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The night is cold and the wind unpleasant as it pierces through Meredith’s worn-out Tunnel Snakes jacket. There’s a few holes on the left sleeve of the coat, reminders of where Talon Company bullets hit her arm before Charon and Dogmeat tore the fuckers to shreds. Meredith’s hand reaches up to cover the holes, grasping onto any remnants of warmth as the wooden shack doors of Vault 106 appear before her, a massive pile of stone lying passively above.
Her aforementioned companions were no longer with her – after Charon activated the purifier for her and Sarah Lyons, Meredith felt it only right to hand him his contract and grant him freedom he was overdue to receive. Dogmeat on the other hand survived a nasty shot from an Enclave soldier’s laser rifle, albeit at the cost of one of his legs, and he resided peacefully in Megaton with Moira Brown who busied herself with building a prosthetic canine limb. Meredith found herself alone in the wastes now, and although it was too quiet and unnerving for her liking, she at least had some privacy to mourn.
Days and nights passed by as if in a blur – Meredith wasn’t quite sure where she was headed, but her legs were strong and carried her forward nevertheless. There were no more missions to complete now – the people she grew to care about were safe, the surrounding D.C area was already scavenged and the Brotherhood of Steel had a good grasp on downtown. There was nothing for her to do anymore, nothing to keep her busy and away from the protruding thoughts of her late parent.
Oftentimes at night, Meredith would jolt awake in alarm, skin covered in sweat and eyes wide as saucers. In her dreams she saw her father behind stained glass, his larger, warm hand reaching out to her against the irradiated doors of the purifier as he struggled to stand upright. The one man that always looked out for her and loved her unconditionally was gone, and in both dreams and reality she failed to save him. She’d listen to the recording James left for her back in Vault 101 to calm her racing heart, though there was no calming the tears that gushed out from behind tightly-shut eyelids.
She missed her father terribly and felt truly alone now that he was no longer alive. Sometimes it was tough to even breathe as the grief overtook her and she’d need to stop in her tracks, grasping onto her chest as the pain choked her from the inside out. The Brotherhood kindly arranged a funeral for James Grey at the Citadel, honouring his selflessness and bravery as Meredith’s glassy eyes absent-mindedly looked ahead at the Jefferson Memorial, barely listening to Elder Lyons’ words. “Sacrifice” was a word that rung out too often and the younger Grey quickly grew to hate it.
Tonight however, Meredith was tired – the grief was overwhelming and she could feel it spiralling slowly but surely out of control, dragging her along into the “dark and twisty place” her father always warned her about. James often reprimanded her for indulging in unhealthy coping mechanisms as soon as things began to look grim, and Meredith really did try to stay strong for him, even when he abandoned her in the vault, but tonight she’s simply had enough. She’d be selfish and indulge tonight.
Her Pip-Boy dutifully opens the vault’s impenetrable doors and they slide to the side, welcoming her back with a heavy, fetid scent of mould and dirt. Her heavy boots carry her inside and suddenly a wave of sudden relief washes over her, because she knows her mind can rest easy here – there’d be no more sadness and no more tears, because she’d finally be reunited with her dear ol’ pops. Just a few more steps, just a few more inches and the vault’s decrepit setting would morph into a clean and orderly space where her father would be. The unreasonable desperation within her roars its ugly head and she doesn’t even shut the door behind her as her pace quickens and she races further into the vault and its malignant waft.
The only sound one could hear now – if there were any survivors within the vault left to listen out to her presence – is the thundering hits of boots against the metal floor. Meredith’s lungs inhale heavily as if by their own twisted volition, gulping down the psychoactive drugs hanging heavily in the air as her eyes adjust to the emerging shades of blues and purples. The vault begins to transform before her very eyes and for the first time in months, she allows herself to smile widely as her father’s shadow disappears around the corner and she runs after it, finally giving in to the vault’s devouring delusions.
Meredith doesn’t know how much time passes since she first entered the vault, because hours fly so comfortably by. She spends every waking moment with her father, discussing any and all topics that come to mind – her mother, her 10th birthday party where Butch tried to bully her out of that stupid sweet roll, her valued friendship with Amata, her first kiss with Freddie Gomez who also liked the “dark and twisty place” she frequented. Her father listens intently, because of course he does – he laughs along with her and shares his own stories of the past, and though they’re all the same stories she’s heard before, she desperately hangs onto every word. Just hearing James’ voice calms her mind and soul and she feels content for the first time in ages, wandering the halls with her arm intertwined over her father’s.
From time to time, Meredith can see the other residents of Vault 101 silently passing through the halls of the vault – one time it was Beatrice, staring intently into her deck of tarot cards, and another time she swore she could see Stanley looking for his trusty wrench. Freddie Gomez smiles sadly whenever he sees her, and in those rare moments she feels truly understood, because Freddie never judged her, despite his silly attempts at bullying her to fit in with the Tunnel Snakes. Butch and Amata make seldom appearances, and Meredith suspects it’s because they would try to talk her out of drifting within a dream. Meredith pushes her common sense aside, and the more days pass idly by, the more pieces of self-awareness quietly chip away.
Her father sleeps in the science lab and so she does too, and though it’s not comfortable, she takes comfort in the familiar scent of disinfectant and ointment that also lingered in the clinic of Vault 101. She holds James’ hand in hers tightly even as they settle down for the night, just like she did when she was little, and wakes to see him gently brushing a strand of golden hair away from her face with a warm smile. At times, her eyes water out of sheer happiness – she figures if she’s going to die here, she’ll be delighted to do so at her father’s side. This is where she’d like to find eternal rest – she’s finally not alone anymore.
James Grey still likes to look over his past research notes and the sight of him hunched over a terminal brings a nostalgic warmth to Meredith’s heart. She gives him space to do this because she doesn’t want to be too overbearing, even in her illusions – she settles onto a couch she dragged into the lab with Grognak the Barbarian as her novel of choice. She feels at peace as she reads over the comic panels with her father nearby, though for the first time in God-knows-how-long, this peace is interrupted as a strange noise resonates through the vault, causing even her father to look up from his terminal.
James seems to connect the dots quicker than she does, because he immediately rushes over to her and drags her outside by the arm, hurrying out of the lab and further into the lower levels of the vault. Meredith opens her mouth to protest but her father hushes her before she can even speak as he hides her behind a makeshift sandbag barricade near where the previous vault-dwellers tried to break out.
“Meredith, you need to be very quiet for me now. Can you do that, honey? I think someone might want to take you away from me.”
“W-What?” Meredith gapes and fear pools at the bottom of her stomach. Her father’s expression is focused and careful, brows furrowed as he peers over the barricade. His hand squeezes her knee assuredly.
“There’s an intruder in the vault and I want to keep you safe, honey. You don’t want to leave me, do you?” His gaze lands to meet the exact same pair of grey eyes inherited by the younger Grey.
Meredith opens her mouth to tell him that of course she doesn’t want to leave him, but before she can utter a word, a familiar, rasped shout reaches her ears from a few flights of stairs above.
“Meredith!”
She recognises that voice and panic seeps into her mind, dream and reality clashing painfully against each other. James seems to notice this, because he leans down to envelop her into a tight embrace, his hand cradling the back of her head as she begins to hyperventilate. Her breath is erratic and loud and her eyes water as she pulls away to look at her father, a vision that she knows will probably dissipate soon. There’s still so much she wants to tell him, so much time she’d like to spend with him, there’s not enough time—
“Meredith, you listen to me now.” James speaks and puts both hands on her cheeks, forcing her to look at him as she begins to wail heavily now, coughing through the tears, “I love you. Words can’t describe how utterly proud I am of you. Do you hear me? I love you.”
Meredith nods as the sight of her father becomes a blur through her tears and she clutches the hands that rest on her cheeks, determined to hold onto the last remnants of his warmth. Her heart hurts in that familiar, agonizing way, full of longing and regret.
“You are anything but ordinary, Meredith.”
The tears burn as they fall from her cheeks and there’s a painful lump in her throat that makes it difficult to speak, but through her tears and tightly-shut eyes, she manages to choke out her last words to her father.
“I love you too, dad.”
Her aching sobs echo through the tunnel and she knows that if she opens her eyes now, her illusions will dissolve before her and she’ll be forced to face reality once again. The scent before her changes, no longer medicinal and pristine, but dank and pungent like the abandoned vault that she truly stumbled into. However, she still seems to be holding tightly onto a pair of hands on her cheeks, and through her tears, she carefully opens her watery eyes to see the man before her.
“Meredith, can you hear me?”
Of course she can hear him – she’d recognise that strained, ragged voice anywhere. His hands feel warm against her skin and he’s looking at her with genuine concern, unsure if she’s still hallucinating or not. As she squeezes his hands, she can feel the difference between her father’s wrinkled but otherwise smooth skin and Charon’s flaking, shredded flesh. She looks up at him and nods slowly, hurt and confused and lonely.
“Okay, good. I’m going to get you out of here.”
Meredith lets out a croak of protest, weakly shaking her head as her eyes close shut again and she wills herself to inhale the last remnants of the hallucinogen, to return to the tranquility of the vault’s fantasy. Charon’s hands grasp her shoulders and shushes her gently, firmly anchoring her to the actuality.
“Okay, okay, calm down. How can I help?”
Is there any way he could really help now? The illusion was shattered and once again, Meredith would be forced to face her very real debilitating agony. Throughout her time in the wasteland she enjoyed helping others and asked for very little in return, but now all she felt was used and alone. She hated her father’s “sacrifice”, but now she finds herself regretting her cowardice – or was it really a will to live – at turning away from the irradiated purifier. That would have been an easy way out, and she’d no longer have to deal with her grief. She felt abandoned and scared and confused.
“Mer, I’m not leaving you here, do you hear? I’m not leaving, so just tell me what to do.”
Meredith wills herself to calm down and settle her fears – she takes comfort in another human being’s proximity and takes a few minutes to still her breathing to an even rhythm. There’s still a stinging sensation within her chest, but for now she shoves it away and puts all her focus on the man before her.
“How long was I out?” She croaks out, as if she was in a coma rather than a self-induced psychedelic trip. She realises how pathetic she must look, slouched lifelessly against the sandbags with stained, reddened cheeks and barely a voice to cling on to.
“I don’t know when you got here exactly.” Charon answers carefully, “But Moira hasn’t seen you since October, so you’ve been AWOL for three months, give or take. She has the whole wasteland looking for you.”
“How’d you know where I was?”
“I remembered our first trip here. You kept seeing your dad around every corner, mumbling something about terminals telling you to stay. It didn’t take long to figure where you’d go after you ol’ pop’s funeral.”
Meredith winces at the mention of that rainy September afternoon and looks away as Charon mutters out an apology into the walls of the dark tunnel.
“I’m lonely.” She bellows and Charon’s hazed, milky gaze lands on her heavily. Somehow the two words prove more draining than she’d expect and she doesn't protest as the ghoul hooks one arm under her knees and another under her back, hoisting her up into his arms. He begins the ascent up the metallic stairs and back into the vault, heading for the exit, and Meredith’s eyes peer over his shoulder as they pass the decrepit science lab. The shadow of her father is nowhere to be seen as Charon’s voice rings out beside her.
“You’re not alone anymore, Mer.”