Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Phoebe spat at the feet of her kidnappers. The rope tied tight around her wrists rubbed painful raw marks into her skin. Gritting her teeth, she looked up into the faces of her betrayers. "Fuck you both, you aren't going to get away with this. My contacts-"

A woman with ginger hair pulled back into a bun stepped forwards and pulled out a pistol, pointing it directly at Phoebe's face. "Your contacts aren't going to give a shit about you once you're dead. This is the end of the road. You deserve every second of this for what you did to me- for what you did to everyone, Phoebe."

It was the first time she'd called Phoebe her full name since they first met.

A man in a checkered suit laughed, and butted in. "You've made your last delivery, kid. From where you're kneeling it must seem like an 18-carat run of bad luck. Truth is... the game was rigged from the start."

The woman put her finger on the trigger, and a single tear fell down her cheek.

She opened her mouth to say something, and after that all you remember is a gunshot.

Chapter Text

"You're awake, how 'bout that?" a male voice says as you open your eyes in an unfamiliar room. The bald man talking to you is also unfamiliar, same as the town outside.

Where the hell are you?

Getting up with a start, the man steadies you and keeps you in bed. Apparently he's a doctor. "Let's just sit down and relax for a second, you've been out a couple days. Let's start with your name?"

You sit there for several moments as names float through your head. Rowena, Helen, Cragfield. None of them mean anything to you, until you remember a woman calling you 'Phoebe'. It doesn't bode well that it took you so long to remember your own name.

…In fact the only thing you seem to remember is getting shot by a man in a checkered suit.

Your voice comes out dry and cracked, the word weak sinks into your thoughts. "…What happened to me?"

The doctor's face softens, and he pats you on the knee. "Someone went and shot you in the head, Juicebox saw it going down, and pulled you out of your grave. I did my best to put you back together, but I might've scrambled your brain a little."

He held up a mirror, and in it you saw a woman with medium-length curly ginger hair. Half of it had been shaved off to accommodate an ugly scythe of surgical scars. The woman's eye was half shut, and her frown drooped to the side with the scars. Belatedly you realized that you were that woman. You reached a hand up to your hair, only to feel the jagged ends where it had been cut. It felt wrong.

"Sorry about the hair, needed to get it out of the way. I cut it shorter to keep you safe, make sure no one grabs it while you're getting back on your feet," the doctor explained, then introduced himself as Doc Mitchell.

Your brain started cataloging what you learned about him, almost instinctively. Doctor, probably desperate for stimpacks, tries to fix the unfixable. Ultimately, you assess him as "cavalier, but brilliant." Then you immediately feel like a total jerk for judging the person who literally brought you back from the dead.

You need answers, more than anything. Being a good patient, you wait until he can test you to make sure everything's alright with you physically. Then the second you have that hideous blue jumpsuit on (what was a vault anyways?), the most important one bubbles up.

"Did you know me, before I got shot? I don't… remember, anything really. I remember that the world is bad, a man in a checkered suit shot me, my name's Phoebe, and I'm in love with a woman."

He shook his head and got an interesting look on his face. "I didn't know you, sorry, maybe the Thomas girls in town would. And… some people in the wasteland might try and shoot you again if you keep shoutin' about being in love with a woman. Just be careful, I don't know if I can bring you back from the brink of life again."

Now that didn't sound right to you. Who was this guy to tell you what to say? Who to love?

You must've looked as indignant as you felt, because the Doc reassured you. "Look… I don't have nothin' against you for it. My wife was the same way, liked men and women. She always said that the only reason she fell for me was that I was the closest that a man could get to being a woman," he laughed, and after a second you joined in.

You asked about his wife and his job and chatted amicably for a while. All in all, he seemed like a standup guy. Then, before you were ready to leave, you asked the second most important question.

"The man who shot me… did you see where he went?"

Nobody would know who you used to be better than him, probably. And the woman you were in love with. If you could find him, maybe you could find her. As well as teach the guy a lesson about shooting people in the head. It was a foolproof plan.

"Sorry, kid. Didn't even see him come into town. You might want to ask Juicebox, or Trudy, she sees everyone who comes in and out of town."

Okay, okay. Minor roadblock, you could handle this. You bounced on the heels of your feet and stepped towards the door. Jukebox, Thomas girls, Trudy, you could maybe remember that. "Thank you so much, Doc. I would say I wouldn't know what I would do without you, but I think we both know that the answer is die," you joked.

Doc Mitchell laughed and patted you on the back. "Ain't that right. Good luck out there kid, come back if you get banged up too bad."

You gave a mock salute and a smirk, then reached out and opened the door to Goodsprings.