Chapter Text
Lucy comes home in a shining good mood. It’s rare she doesn’t, but today there’s a manic quality to her movements, like she snuck a hit of Buffout. Seems unlikely though. She’s gained a few vices since leaving the vault, but has remained square about many of the finer things. And when she tugs him to bed before sundown and does things he would normally have to pay for, he knows something is up.
“What do you want?” he asks pointedly once she resurfaces. “You’re never this generous. You're after something.”
She tenses up in an instant giveaway, like she always does when caught red-handed. If she’s plotting to drag him out in public for her mayoral campaign no amount of bribery is going to work.
“Can’t a woman pleasure her husband without being accused of ulterior motives?” She starts mouthing at his neck as a piss-poor distraction.
“Spill it, vaultie. What’s got you so wired up?”
She lets out a good-natured huff and flops onto the neighboring pillow. Now there’s no doubt something is up. It’s rare to get more than one blow job a month out of her, and when she does indulge him, she expects immediate reciprocation.
She stares up at the ceiling, gnawing her long-scarred lip. “Fine, I’ll just say it. How would you feel about having another kid?”
He’s not sure what to do with that question except laugh.
“Think that ship has sailed for both of us.” If that were possible there would be thirty of them running around by now.
“Not that way, the other way. Huang’s team just got back from an expedition around Salt Lake. They found a couple creeps from The Enclave holed up in a vault with some nasty experiments in progress. They rescued six human test subjects, including a baby they think is about three months old. She’s like us, but besides that, healthy. Spirited, even. Krista’s looking after her right now, but I want to adopt her.”
That is a seismic amount of information to absorb. He’s not sure if she stopped to take a single breath.
‘Like us’ is a crazy enough statement. There are almost no fresh ghouls cropping up anywhere anymore, and newborns have practically been unheard of since Shady Sands. To be born in that state, the mother has to be exposed to huge amounts of radiation very late in term, otherwise the fetus just dies in utero. It’s the type of thing that can only happen because of a nuclear event, or in this case, an experiment.
Barb got pregnant after several years of trying, then another year of fertility treatments, plus nine months of the actual pregnancy. That is to say, he had a hell of a lot of time to prepare for fatherhood. Now Lucy is metaphorically dropping a baby on his doorstep and it’s all so much it feels like nothing.
“Uh-huh,” he replies. “And would this be a parenthood situation or a foster situation?”
He knows she wanted kids in the plural back in the day, but she hasn’t brought it up since Max died, and a lot can change about a person in sixty years. Besides, with her mayoral campaign where will she find the time? He’s got nothing better to do, but she’s got five-year plans and shit.
“I mean, I always wanted kids. And for the first time since leaving the vault, I feel like I can sit still long enough to actually raise one. And after Max, I never wanted to have kids with anyone except you. Some other people have volunteered to take her, but they all agree we’d be the best fit.”
Yeah, it’s hard to argue that. Raising a kid like that is going to be a challenge no matter who’s in charge, but having parents who look like her is probably the best case scenario. Lucy never liked calling them ghouls. Considers it politically incorrect. Over the years more polite terms have come and gone, but none he’s felt inclined to adopt.
“And you don’t think I’m too old to raise a kid from scratch?”
He and Barb felt guilty about having Janey so late. Didn’t want her coordinating their nursing care while still figuring out the building blocks of her own life. Now look at him.
“I’m old too,” she laughs. “I’m almost a hundred.”
“Babies with babies,” he mutters.
“I’m not hearing a ‘no,’” she presses while propping up her cheek.
He lets out a heavy sigh. It’s still too abstract to wrap his head around. He always figured if he were to take care of another kid it would be a grandchild, or a great-grandchild. Does he have the wherewithal to do a repeat performance of parenthood? Another daughter, a second daughter, a vulnerable little soul dependent on him to stay in one piece. It’s hard enough just remembering Janey, but raising another would force him to relive every milestone: the first word, the first step, the first time they vomit on your face. Janey would be with him in every moment. His eyes well up at just the thought.
Lucy tempers her smile, and reaches out to wipe the edge of his eye before the tear can drop.
“I know it’s a big ask. Just… expecting you to love another girl like you loved her. But… you want to give it a shot?”
He almost laughs at the casual phrasing. As though this were a pet they could easily pawn off on someone else. If he says yes, there are no take-backs. And realistically, he’s the one who’s going to be doing the bulk of the work. Lucy’s not just going to drop everything to stay home with a baby. Can he do it all again without falling to pieces? Can he move around this home that he shared with his first family, and recreate it for a second? Drawings on the fridge, measurements on the wall, toys strewn across the floor. Half-answering hard questions, worrying every minute of every day, and taking responsibility for a person he puts into the world?
It would also mean tying himself to Lucy as something more than just a common law husband. Sure, they’ve been together a long time, even longer than him and Barb, but they’ve always kept a veneer of independence, like two cats who just happen to live together. They don’t have big conversations about what they are or where they’re going; they never set rules or expectations; never asked each other to commit in sickness and in health.
It’s worked for them so far, but this would bind them in a way that has never been articulated. She would not just be his partner, but the mother of his child. He envisions a crib right next to their bed, emitting gurgles, sneezes, and gas throughout the night. And when she’s a bit bigger, a warm little body huddled between them. Then a girl with cold feet and bony elbows crawling into their bed at night; one who calls her mommy and him daddy.
Yes, he wants it. He wants to see Lucy as a mother. Wants to see how it changes her; watch her become something he has not seen before. They will probably never get another shot at this. Sure, they could adopt a “regular” kid (Lucy hates that term; he’s ambivalent), but no, he could never be a real father to someone like that. He’s not sure if the time he has left is a matter of decades or centuries, but he won’t take the risk of watching another baby age and die out from under him. And god willing, there’s unlikely to be many more ghouls through the rest of history. If he says no, there will be no more chances. But even if there were, he’d probably still say yes.
“You got a name in mind?” he asks. “Or she already got one?”
Lucy’s smile could light up every slot machine in Vegas. “Krista has been calling her squash-belly, so I think she’s due a rebrand. I was thinking Rose after my mom, but I’d call her Rosie ‘cause it’s cute. Rose Howard, or is that too Little House on the Prairie? We can think about it some more. I have no strong opinion.”
He laughs, because it sure sounds like she does.
“Rose seems as fine a name as any. It was my grandma’s name too.”
“Really? I didn’t know that.”
“She died before I was born.” Nobody in his immediate family was particularly long-lived. Guess he’s overcompensating.
“Still, it’s amazing there are still things I’m finding out about you.”
That is true. After all their decades wandering the wasteland and her penchant for games of twenty questions, it’s a wonder there’s a single inner fragment she’s not privy to.
“Krista said we could pick her up as early as tomorrow.”
“We don’t have a crib.”
“Ida said we could take hers. She and Jake are done for good.”
“You’ve been scheming behind my back, huh?”
“I mean, I was gonna take her regardless, but your involvement is appreciated.”
So that’s how it is, huh? She must have been pretty confident in her sales pitch.
He looks out the window at the pink-orange sky. “So this’ll be our last decent night of sleep in a while then,” he says while lazily running his fingers along her arm.
“We can do more than just sleep,” she replies before pressing a couple kisses to his chest.
“There won’t be much of that for a while either.”
“That’s why I’m taking advantage.”
Ever impatient, she lifts his hand and molds it over her breast.
He sleeps better that night than he has in a long while, and not just because she wore him out like a pair of shoes. He’s been worried about Lucy ever since they got the results of that test tissue. If the lab coats got their numbers right, she’s likely going to outlive him by a matter of centuries, and it’d bring him peace to know he’s leaving her with someone to love, just like he had her.
The next morning there’s a tightly swaddled creature in his arms. She might be getting too big for swaddling though, because she makes short work of wrestling an arm free and reaching out to grip the fabric of his shirt, her microscopic fingers clenching and unclenching like a cat kneading a pillow. Beneath the scars her skin is just a bit lighter than Janey’s, though it may get darker still. With a cluster of jet-black hairs swirling around her scalp. Lucy didn’t mention that she’s blind in one eye: the left is still newborn-blue, the right milky pale. Already her mother’s twin.
When they get home she goes down easy. Lucy perches beside her crib, chin propped on a hand, staring down at her like a lovesick teenager, cooing over her little lips and little toes and little not-a-nose.
Of course she cries through the night. It must be confusing, being in a new place with these strangers, full of strange smells and shapes. So far the adrenaline and novelty have kept him focused. It’s harder to get lost in melancholy when you have to rapidly recall how to keep someone alive.
With time she settles and falls limp against his shoulder, reaching that stage where the tiredness is going to win whether she likes it or not. He rubs and pats her back that is not much larger than the span of his hand. As her fussing settles it takes all he has not to sob because it will upset her and trigger the crying anew. Tears quietly stream down his cheeks, but he keeps his shoulders steady, and whispers the same words he spoke to Janey as she left.
“Shh, everything’s alright, sweetheart. You can rest. Daddy’s here. Daddy’s got you.”