Fallout: Lavender Wastelander

Drown the pain faster than it can swim.

Clover drank, thankful for the fact that for once in her life—or, maybe the second—the wasteland had thrown her a bone.

Once the bottle parted her lips, Clover gasped for breath and held out the half-emptied container to her master, who sat on the soggy bus bench across the aisle from her.

Twilight took the bottle without hesitation, bringing it to her lips to take a swig. She cringed after swallowing what amounted to a shot, then held the bottle back out to Clover, her disgust gone as her eyes shifted between her and the bottle.

Clover knew what Twilight wanted to ask. She looked away to the broken window, but the view of the wasteland and the light rain wasn’t any more pleasant than the look in Twilight’s eyes, so she turned back and took the offered whiskey.

“Seeing her reminded me of what I used to be like,” Clover admitted, before tossing her head back with the bottle to her lips. The warm buzz dancing in the back of her skull made it easier to talk without hesitating, but she needed to be smashed if she was going to get through the whole conversation.

Gulp, gulp.

Clover paused her drinking to take a breath and collect her thoughts. The next words flowed out of her mouth as easy as the whiskey went in.

“Not fucked up.”

Twilight didn’t say anything as she levitated a bottle of beer out of the floor compartment. The same compartment Clover had used to stash the alcohol what felt like a lifetime ago. Back when she still had Hope…

The hiss of the beer bottle opening shook Clover out of her stupor. She focused back on Twilight, just in time to watch her master take a sip. Twilight’s near-immediate gag of disgust put a smile on Clover’s face.

“Fuck, that stuff is foul,” Twilight cursed. She levitated the bottle out of the window, following its flight until she leaned half-out a window into the drizzle to yell. “Rainbow Dash!”

“Mine!” Rainbow Dash yipped, her speed turning her into a blur as she snatched the bottle from the air and rocketed back towards the second bus where the others waited.

Twilight lingered outside before sliding back into the bus seat. Her smile melted some of the ice around Clover’s heart.

Hope used to smile like that.

Twilight focused back on Clover, and that wonderful smile dropped into a neutral line.

“I think you’re too hard on yourself,” Twilight said. Like she knew what she was talking about.

“Hard on myself?” Clover asked, irritation creeping in despite who she was addressing. The soft buzz in her skull had grown to a full vibration. It was so easy to let her mouth run before she could stop herself. “Have you met me? The last opinion I give a fuck about is my own.”

Just a pet. An animal to feed and train and abuse.

Twilight frowned, crossed her legs and steepled her fingers. It was like she was trying to pull off a professional pose or something. If Twilight wanted to act like a doctor, she could at least put on a white coat instead of her camouflage metal armor. The strange, camo-painted plate mail rattled like a tin can as she shifted into a more comfortable position on the soggy bus seat.

“So, if you didn’t care about anyone's opinion, why run from your daughter?”

Clover felt as if she’d eaten a mouthful of sand and the fog cleared from her brain, like she was suddenly sober. It knocked the fire from her and killed any comeback before she could let it loose.

Why had she run? Clover had to think. Drinking would give her time.

Gulp… nothing.

Damn, Clover thought, cursing. No time to think.

“Because–” Clover said bitterly, cutting herself off as she tossed the empty bottle over her shoulder. Twilight’s horn sprung alight and the bottle came floating back through the broken window. Clover wondered why Twilight cared if she littered. The wasteland was a fucking dumpster. One more bottle wouldn’t hurt.

The flare of irritation and Twilight distracting herself by shoving the bottle into the trash can by the driver’s seat gave Clover enough time and motive to think. She took a breath.

“Because I was afraid,” Clover said, forcing the words out despite the anger, alcohol, and rehearsal in her head. Damnit, she was already a pathetic excuse for a human. Being scared of a little girl just rubbed salt in the wound. She tapped her chest and grunted. “Look at me. What can I offer my daughter?” She adopted a mocking tone, trying to sound like Twilight, the wonderful but arrogant bitch. “Oh, hey, Daisy, I guess it's Snow now because you didn't grow up with me calling you that. Want to learn some life lessons from your craaaay-zee mother? Everyone calls me crazy so it must be true. I can teach you how to suck a man dry, then slit his throat.”

Twilight twisted in a look of disgust. She shook her head, expression giving way to one of resolve as she clenched her fists, then relaxed them.

“See? Hard on yourself,” Twilight said in a soft, teacherly voice. It was too fucking patronizing for Clover to not be annoyed at. Clover started to fidget. “You think your worth comes from serving others, but you hate what services others make you do. You said before that you think you're only useful when somebody wants something. You can live for yourself, not others.”

Like it was so easy to just drop everything she knew. All the ‘lessons’ beaten into her, all the nights spent sleeping with a man who twisted her mind like a piece of old wire. Clover had loved Eulogy.

Like she loved Twilight. She was the one holding the leash.

“Listen, sugar,” Clover said, half-tempted to leap off the bench seat and punch her master, just to get off the topic. But Twilight was her master, and this was the direction the conversation was directed. Clover’s face wrinkled with a scowl. “I'm good at killing, fucking, and doing what I’m told. Not exactly self-serving skills unless I go fuck myself. What else do I got?”

If Twilight was such a wise-ass know it all, maybe she could figure that out.

“Being my friend.”

Another sobering gutshot.

Twilight wanted to help. As naive and optimistic as a child. But how could she fix something so broken?

Lost for words, Clover absentmindedly rubbed her neck, finger trailing over the smooth skin below the rash. Flushed with alcohol and anger, her skin was already feverish with heat, but as her finger trailed up to the rash where her slave-collar had been, the heat exploded into a blazing conflagration wherever her finger pressed into the abused skin. It was a familiar pain. The devil she knew, and was trained into loving.

Friend. Twilight wasn't another Eulogy. Could she be another Hope?

“It's been years since I had a friend,” Clover muttered. And what kind of friend was Clover? She already knew. It was her fault for getting caught. “I’m a terrible one. I was supposed to come back for her.” She waved a hand at the compartment of alcohol, and it was back to spilling her life story. “All of that was to celebrate Hope growing up and being sent to Big Town. We were only a year apart.”

Clover had put her entire piggy bank into buying every bottle of hard booze and beer that she could, then sneaking out at night to stash it. Enough alcohol for Clover to bring all of Big Town back to celebrate Hope becoming an adult. It was a childish fantasy that ended two days after her sixteenth birthday.

Twilight leaned back, a look of comprehension blooming on her face.

“That's why you wanted to look at the ledger, wasn’t it?” she asked. “Of course you already knew where your daughter was. You wanted to see if your friend was enslaved.”

“All these years, I could have just asked Da—Mr. Eulogy—if anyone like Hope was captured by slavers,” Clover said, shaking her head. “Either by Paradise Falls, or some of the raiders we worked with.”

But asking him would tip him off that there was one thing left in the world that he could use to hurt her.

“So, when I let you look at the ledgers, did you find anything?” Twilight asked politely. As Clover shook her head, Twilight smiled and slowly stood up from her seat, grabbing her backpack off the floor. “Then let’s go talk to Rainbow Dash. She’s been to Big Town.”

It took Clover a moment to register what Twilight was saying. When it finally clicked, Clover bolted upright, but stumbled as her body caught up to the fact that she had too much to drink. Twilight's magic wrapping around Clover kept her from falling over.

Twilight pulled Clover’s arm across her shoulders, letting Clover lean on her.

Twilight adjusted her hold to keep Clover in a comfortable position, and Clover could only let her do it.

“You’d really take me to Big Town?” Clover asked.

She was Twilight, not Eulogy. Of course she would.

“Not what I was saying, but we should have the time to spare for it,” Twilight said. “And Rainbow Dash may have already seen Hope. Even better, Big Town joined the Enclave as soon as they were asked, so we know we’re wanted there.”

Clover smiled. For once in a long, long time, it wasn’t forced.

<>~<>~<>

Twilight took each step out of the bus at a slow and steady pace as Clover leaned on her.

The alcohol had caught up with her newest friend, and Clover was in no condition to walk on her own, which Twilight was regretfully thankful for.

Twilight wasn’t naive enough to miss Clover’s violent mood swing. Alcohol was potent stuff, and out of a whole bottle of whiskey, Twilight had only a shot's worth of it.

I should have stopped you, but you were opening up. Twilight thought. She pushed the thought aside before she allowed herself to become as angry and self-pitying as Clover.

The other bus was just ahead, the metal rims resting on asphalt. Rainbow Dash stood several yards away with her back to Twilight, one hand on her chin and the bottle of beer in the other.

She’d taken off her black Secret Service jacket, showing off the white business undershirt. It contrasted nicely with her black-dyed hair and the few exposed matte-black ridges of her cybernetic spine.

“Hey, Rainbow,” Twilight said, catching Rainbow’s attention, who spun on her heels and faced Twilight with a smile. “Why are you standing in the rain? Is something up?

It was Electrum who answered the question from somewhere at the rear of the bus, out of Twilight’s view.

“We’re doing something incredibly stupid.”

Twilight raised a brow, and Rainbow Dash kept grinning.

Twilight had the distinct, sinking feeling that she was about to hear an explanation that would make her groan in frustration.

“So, you know how Pegasi can make carriages and wagons fly?” Rainbow asked. If Twilight was blind, she knew she would have heard the smirk in Rainbow’s tone. She gestured at the bus behind her. “Ehh? Ehhhhh?” She emphasized by wiggling her brows. “Since the vertibird fleet is down for maintenance, and unicorns can’t teleport power armor, and the only current stable portal to Equestria is too small for most vehicles… why don’t we just recycle the hundreds of old buses just sitting around?”

Twilight stared at the old rusting hulk of a bus and worked her jaw. Traveling by pegasus-pulled bus was certainly a lot more practical than simply teleporting everywhere, and the weight limits were more forgiving. Things like airships weren’t just for cruises.

“That doesn’t seem too bad, actually,” Twilight said, nodding her head. As if on cue to make her regret her words, there was a loud clang from behind the bus. Twilight narrowed her eyes and turned towards the sound. She bit back as much sarcasm as she could. “So, where exactly does the stupidity come into the equation?”

Electrum answered as she rounded the rear of the bus with Daniel, the two of them levitating what looked like a massive lead cube with pipes running into it.

“We’re pulling out the dead engine to save weight and to keep it from being a flying bomb,” Electrum said.

The lead must be for reactor shielding.

“And this thing’s still hot,” Daniel said, grunting from the effort. “My Pip-Boy is click-click-clickiting. The sooner we dispose of this, the better.”

“Alright, I’ll lead you back to where I saw that toxic waste dump,” Rainbow Dash said. She then looked to Twi. “Sorry, but we gotta run for now. Don't worry about helping, we’ll be right back.”

Rainbow left no room for Twilight to even try and offer help before she sped off, leading the others away with the nuclear engine.

Twilight rolled her eyes and smiled, then continued towards the bus.

She guided Clover up the bus steps and into one of the two long benches running down each side of the bus. Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy sat at the back of the vehicle in the middle of the wide aisle between the bench seats. They were playing cards on a circular camping stool. As Twilight took a seat beside Clover, she watched them play.

Pinkie Pie stared down at two face-up cards that Twilight was too far away to read. She had one hand on her chin and her face was screwed up into a look of contemplation.

“Hmmmm, got any threes,” Pinkie Pie grunted through a loud, thoughtful hum.

“Pinkie,” Fluttershy said with a bemused sigh. “We’re playing blackjack.”

“I know,” Pinkie Pie giggled. “But my ten and eight are really lonely without a three. Hit me.”

Fluttershy chuckled and flipped a card off the deck, placing it with the ones in front of Pinkie Pie.

“Bingo!” Pinkie Pie squealed.

“Not even a card game,” Fluttershy mumbled, but smiled regardless.

Their jovial mood was infectious enough for Twilight to match it

Beside her, Clover shifted. Twilight didn’t get the chance to apologize for missing the chance to speak to Rainbow Dash, but Clover spoke first.

“Hey, sugar,” Clover slurred. She lowered her voice, like she was trying to be subtle, but the drunkenness was getting in the way. “You say honest things, right? Wouldn’t lie to me—” she hiccuped “—would ya?”

Twilight didn’t know Clover well enough to know for sure, but her tone sounded like she’d circled back around from fury to a mindset determined to tear her down.

“Of course not,” Twilight said, keeping her voice low. She checked down the aisle. Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy were, thankfully, far enough down the bus and too engrossed in their card game to listen in. “You have a question?”

“Yeah,” Clover muttered, fidgeting with her fingers. She stared at her trembling hands with unfocused, drunken, glossy eyes. “Do you think I’d ever be a good mother?”

Twilight held herself back from reacting. Be a friend, but be professional. It was a hard question to answer.

Clover was—to put it as politely as possible—a hot mess. The first thing that she’d done after Twilight had removed her slave collar was to point a loaded shotgun at her face as a joke. And the more Twilight learned about Clover’s relationships to the other slaves, the less she felt comfortable around her. But Clover was never given a chance to grow up while being raised by other children and a few robots.

The pause to think was just enough time for Clover to come to her own conclusion.

“You can’t fix everything,” Clover said, looking away. “Or save everyone.”

Twilight put a hand on Clover’s shoulder.

“No, no I can’t,” Twilight said. She felt useless. Psychology was a hole in her studies that she was sorely lacking in. But dusty old books teaching about how people think wasn’t the power of friendship. “But I can do my best.” Twilight took a slow, deep breath. She knew Clover wanted an honest answer. “So to answer your question, no, not as you are right now. To be honest, you’re unstable, childish, and not entirely faultless in your crimes against others. You have a self-destructive mindset that isn’t helping things, either, but you aren’t a lost cause. You’ve lived through a lot of bad stuff, stuff that I’m not professionally trained to fix, and can’t just magic away. But I’m here for you.”

It was the raw truth. Twilight hoped she hadn’t overdone it, but Clover nodded.

“Yeah,” Clover said, voice still slurred. She grit her teeth and sighed. “So, since we’re being honest with each other, you’re a self-righteous, preachy, holier-than-thou bitch at times who thinks the world should work like she wants it to.” Clover let out a low, bitter laugh, shaking her head and avoiding eye contact with Twilight. “Still, I’d prefer your world over mine. You’re the only person I know trying to clean the wasteland up, rather than adding more trash.”

“It’s never too late for you to join me in cleaning up the wasteland,” Twilight said, leaning back in the seat. “The journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step.”

Clover nodded, and Twilight watched as the former slave slowly stood up on shaky, drunken legs. Like a foal trying to walk for the first time. Twilight was ready to catch her if she fell, but Clover was made of stern stuff and navigated towards the front of the bus.

Twilight was about to ask if Clover needed to go out to use the bathroom, but stopped short as Clover grabbed the bucket-sized trash can resting beside the driver seat, picked it up, and started towards the door.

Twilight followed her.

And so they cleaned.