Meet in the Middle
Even as the trail to his father gets warmer, Harry can't help but feel like they're still several steps behind. Everyone who's seen him since this journey started saw him recently, but not recently enough. With days, weeks stretching between them, the task at hand feels hopeless more often than not. He can't give up—won't give up—but it's difficult to keep himself in high spirits.
His company isn't helping much.
Dogmeat is friendly and affectionate, which is amazing; Harry's always been infatuated with the idea of dogs. Arthur is generally amiable, if a bit distant at times, and seems at least marginally invested in helping Harry out. Jeffrey, however, has been resistant to Harry's presence from day one. Even after seeming to feel remorse for the drinking radiated water thing, he remains openly aggravated, rolling his eyes and making snide comments every chance he gets. Arthur tells him to knock it off sometimes, but the rest of the time, Harry is on his own.
It's lonely. He misses Amata, and he misses his father, and after trekking from Megaton to GNR to Rivet City, with several odd stops in between each, Harry feels worn thin. They stop by Megaton on their way out west, taking a short breather to stock up and rest, and then it's off to Vault 112. Jeffrey rolls his eyes and sighs when Harry shows even the slightest amount of impatience for them to get on the road. Why doesn't he get it? Why doesn't he care? Doesn't he understand that with each passing day, Harry's father slips further through their fingers?
It's hard to be angry, but... Harry does feel stressed, and hurt, and exasperated. Arthur doesn't intervene nearly as often as Harry wishes he would. He could confront Jeffrey himself, but honestly, Jeffrey is terrifying. Harry doesn't want to provoke him.
A few scant warnings about Evergreen Mills give them the sense to try and avoid it, but edging around it proves to be risky: the raiders that live within are very much patrolling the cliffs outside of it as well. Vault 112 is somewhere past it, and maybe that makes Harry reckless; still, it's not like he hasn't gotten used to combat.
The ambush is clumsy, but effective enough to at least put them at a momentary disadvantage. There's a lot of raiders. If any of them make it back to the compound, even more will be summoned. Harry takes them out as precisely as he can, only briefly distracted when Jeffrey suddenly swears up a storm nearby.
"Cover for me!" he commands, ducking behind a jutting bit of rock as Arthur advances into the space he was in, pistol at the ready. Harry returns his attention to the actual fight, taking aim at a man Dogmeat has latched onto the leg of, when one of the raiders throws a grenade.
They both identify it, at least, and Jeffrey is too far away to be at risk. Harry dives one way, Arthur the other; as the dust settles, Harry rolls back to his feet when he hears Arthur shout.
His pistol is no longer in his hand, and one of the raiders has advanced on him, holding a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire. On his back in the dirt, Arthur is trying to get away, but the raider pins his long coat under her boot with a cackling laugh.
Harry doesn't think. He doesn't need to; the correct course of action is clear. Dogmeat is otherwise preoccupied shredding someone's leg, and though Jeffrey appears to have returned to the scene, he's not firing, for some reason. Harry takes several long strides towards Arthur and the raider, and when she turns to look at him, he shoots her point-blank in the face.
As that threat crumples into a heap, Harry rounds on the remaining assailants; Dogmeat has taken out a few on his own, and the rest are distracted by him. One by one, Harry takes them out before they can really react—even when he needs to reload, Dogmeat does an admirable job keeping his quarry still.
When at last every raider from the ambush has been felled, Harry lowers his gun with a weary sigh. Arthur drags himself to his feet, dusting himself off before approaching to clap Harry on the back.
"Damn, check you out!" he laughs, and Harry gives him a tentative smile. "You're one hell of a sharpshooter, Harry. Thanks for saving my ass."
"Of course," Harry says, stopping short of saying You'd do the same because he honestly isn't sure if that's true. "...Maybe we should camp for the night," he ventures reluctantly. Surely they're close to their destination, but it could be a huge mistake to advance now, his own nerves frazzled from how hectic everything had suddenly become.
They backtrack a ways to get away from Evergreen Mills, and shockingly, Jeffrey doesn't complain. In fact, he's unusually silent for the entire trek; though Harry wants to believe maybe he's just tired, he feels like something bad might be about to happen.
That assertion proves to be correct.
While they're setting up camp, Harry tries to defuse the tension by asking Jeffrey if he needs help with what he's doing, and all at once, Jeffrey rounds on him.
"I don't need your fucking help!" he snarls, drawing Arthur's attention from over at the fire as Harry puts his hands up placatingly. "I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but you're not the one man army Three Dog keeps fucking telling everyone you are!"
"Jeffrey," Arthur stresses as he stands up to approach, but Jeffrey ignores him.
"I never asked to come along on this stupid fucking roadtrip!" he goes on, fists balled at his sides. "Maybe Arthur thinks you're worth his time, but newsflash! You're not fucking worth mine!" With that, he storms away, vanishing into the darkness past the light of the fire as Harry slowly lowers his hands.
Arthur arrives at his side, looking somberly in the direction Jeffrey went. "Don't... don't take all of that too personally," he mutters.
"...How am I supposed to take it?" Harry asks, throat tight. He's nineteen, now. He's a grown man. He can't cry because someone who never liked him just confirmed that fact.
"He's not... good with people," Arthur sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's just been him and me for... what, a year?" That doesn't really answer anything, though, and Arthur seems to realize that. "The... last person he tried to get close to, uh..." He rolls his shoulders, seeming uncomfortable with the idea of airing Jeffrey's secrets. "It ended poorly. Jeffrey wanted something different. So he was left with just me, and now..."
Harry gives Arthur a tired look. "He can't really think I'm taking you from him. Can he?"
"...I don't know," Arthur admits. "He's not exactly forthcoming about how he feels. I really don't think this is about you, though. Or at least it's not about not wanting you here."
Harry isn't sure what to say about that, and Arthur sighs again. "I'm not gonna just leave you on your own with this whole... finding your dad thing. Even if he's throwing a bitchfit. Okay?" He pats Harry on the back, then heads back towards the fire, passing Dogmeat on the way.
Still staring off into the darkness, Harry glances down when Dogmeat nudges his leg. "Hey, buddy," he mutters, reaching down to pet him between his ears. "What should I do...?" In all honesty, he wants to give up, even if only for this moment. He wishes none of this had ever happened; he wishes his father had stayed in Vault 101. Now, he doesn't think either of them can ever go back, even if they reunite.
Dogmeat looks in the direction Jeffrey went.
"...I guess it wouldn't hurt to try," Harry murmurs, defeated. "One last time. Go stay with Arthur, okay?" As Dogmeat turns to do just that, Harry clicks on his Pip-Boy light and starts navigating the rocky terrain.
Jeffrey is some yards away, clearly frustrated as he struggles with something in his hands. He looks up when the light reaches him, and for a moment, Harry thinks he's just going to start ranting again. Their eyes meet. Then, after a moment, Jeffrey looks down and away. That's about as good a sign as he's going to give, Harry thinks.
"What the hell do you want," Jeffrey murmurs as Harry sits a respectable distance away, no conviction in his voice. Unsure of how exactly to broach the topic, Harry looks down at what he's fiddling with. It's his laser pistol; he's trying to get purchase on some part of it and failing. Subtly, Harry directs more of his light onto the task.
"...Your gun jammed," he observes, surprised, as Jeffrey fails once again to free the expended energy cell from the port it slots into. "That's why you had to stop fighting."
"Yeah, well, it doesn't fucking matter, does it?" Jeffrey snaps. "You were there. I'm comparatively fucking useless." One final failed attempt causes him to let out a frustrated expletive as he tosses his gun away, not hard enough to damage it as it lands in the dirt, but clearly as a gesture of defeat.
Harry doesn't think Jeffrey is useless, but he's not sure if saying as much will get him anywhere. Instead, he leans over to grab the laser pistol, turning it over in his hands. He's less familiar with energy weapons, but... the problem is still immediately obvious. The energy cell Jeffrey was last using got lodged in the chamber and wouldn't budge, meaning a new one couldn't be inserted when the first was depleted. But why?
With a little force, he's able to free the cell, ignoring the annoyed sound Jeffrey makes in response as he shines his Pip-Boy light into the port. "...Oh, I see," he says, dropping the depleted energy cell to focus on the gun.
"...See what?" Jeffrey asks, tone guarded.
"The mechanism in here—part of it got loose, I think," Harry explains, tilting the gun this way and that. "So the energy cell had less room to move and got stuck. Honestly, looking at it... a lot of the inner parts are really worn."
"Great," Jeffrey sighs, clearly annoyed. "Guess I have to get a new one..."
This is the only gun Harry's seen Jeffrey use since they met. It has a distinctive scratch along one side that identifies it; seeing him use something else would be strange. "I can fix it," he offers, glancing over. When Jeffrey gives him a suspicious look, Harry goes on: "No, really! It's different from what I'm used to, but I've always liked figuring out how things work. We've got some scrap still, right? I'm sure I can have it in a better condition by tomorrow."
He turns his attention back to the laser pistol, shining his light over it as Jeffrey seems to think about what he's said. Then, "Is repairing guns a thing you learn in a vault...?"
Harry laughs a little. "Gosh, no. Only the officers have them, usually. My dad managed to get a BB gun into working condition on my tenth birthday, though, and I started getting curious about that sort of thing. When I started working, I was in maintenance, and I learned a lot about what makes mechanical stuff work." He sets the gun in his lap, smiling gently over at Jeffrey. "I can figure it out, promise. You don't need a new gun."
Jeffrey watches him for a moment, the open hostility seemingly absent from his expression, before he glares off into the darkness. For a moment, Harry thinks he'll reject the offer, tell him to get lost. Instead, when he does speak, Jeffrey says: "Sorry for being such an asshole earlier."
That's a surprise. Harry stares at him for a moment, then turns his head lest Jeffrey catch him smiling about it. "I-it's okay. I mean, it's just been you and Arthur for a while, right? Having someone new constantly around must be stressful..."
"It is," Jeffrey mutters, not looking up from whatever rock formation he's found to focus on. When it seems like maybe he's going to leave it there, he speaks up again: "It scared me that I couldn't do anything. That you could. I don't... I don't want him to think I'm less useful."
"...You're his friend," Harry ventures softly, realizing all at once that whatever this is runs a lot deeper than he'd thought.
"That doesn't mean anything out here," Jeffrey insists, glancing Harry's way. "If you can't hold your own, you're dead weight. Every relationship is about proving your usefulness, making the investment worthwhile. We can't afford to be fucking sentimental." There's something watery about his voice, Harry realizes with some alarm as Jeffrey looks away again. "...We talk about going west someday, but what if I'm just going to be a liability? What if he gets sick of putting up with me? What if I wake up one morning and he's gone?"
"He won't do that to you," Harry assures, even though he has no real way of being sure of that. "You matter to him. He won't abandon you."
"Everybody leaves, eventually," Jeffrey murmurs. "That's just how it is out here."
"I'm not going to leave," Harry counters.
Jeffrey glances over at him again as Harry realizes how bold of a statement that is. Jeffrey must want him to leave, after all, once this is over. Or even before then. He's certainly been adamant about it.
"...Aren't you going back to your vault after this?" Jeffrey asks in a tone of voice that suggests he's exasperated with Harry for implying otherwise.
"Oh... um." Harry looks down at the ground where the light from his Pip-Boy casts harsh shadows behind every rock.
"That's what I thought," Jeffrey sighs, and then it clicks.
He's known from the start that Harry was a temporary fixture in his life. Helping find James Walker came with the caveat that by the end of the journey, Harry would plunge back into Vault 101 for good. Jeffrey, who just admitted that he thinks everybody leaves, eventually, knew that getting invested would only hurt, in the end. If he cared about Harry, he'd still lose him down the road, so why bother? Easier to force him away, try to prevent him from making a space for himself in the existing dynamic between Jeffrey and Arthur.
Maybe all of that is off-base, but Harry has a strong feeling that this is the context he's been missing for Jeffrey's behavior towards him.
"...I don't know, honestly," Harry confesses. "I wish I could, but... Everything changed the day my dad left. I don't think the vault I want to go back to exists anymore."
"...Even if you bring your dad back?" Jeffrey asks cautiously.
"Especially if I bring my dad back!" Harry answers emphatically, looking over at Jeffrey again and finding his expression hard to read. "The Overseer wanted me dead because he thought I'd helped my dad and was planning to escape too. He'd already killed my dad's friend... He was going to do anything to stop the vault from being opened again."
He hangs his head a little, the memory of Jonas's death weighing heavily on his heart. In another life, if that hadn't happened, maybe he would have tried to talk things out. "...If I stayed, I was a goner. So I had to escape. The Overseer forced me to by trying to stop me." Laughing humorlessly, Harry reaches up with one hand to rub the back of his neck. "Ironic, huh?"
"Holy shit," Jeffrey huffs in disbelief. "No wonder you were so frazzled when you showed up in Megaton. I knew you said you'd escaped, but..."
"It was hard to talk about," Harry sighs. "That people I'd spent my whole life around suddenly wanted me dead. That my dad just... left without thinking any of that would happen. He knows better than anyone how serious the Overseer is about Vault 101 being closed." Thinking for a moment, he meets Jeffrey's eyes, finding his companion watching him with interest (and maybe pity) instead of the usual loathing. "...Maybe you were right. My dad's from out here, after all... Maybe he was always going to leave, eventually."
"Your dad's an idealistic nutcase with a laser focus on his own goals, to the detriment of all else," Jeffrey scoffs. "Which must be where you get it from."
"Thanks," Harry mutters dryly.
"...I don't mean it as a bad thing," Jeffrey amends, fidgeting with his hands and looking pointedly away. "Just... I don't think it was about leaving you as much as it was about completing this passion project of his. Those tapes we found in the rotunda..."
Harry tilts his head a little. Baffling as it is, he's starting to think Jeffrey is trying to comfort him.
Realizing he's being watched, Jeffrey glares off into the distance again. "...Well, either way. When we find him, you can ask what the hell he was thinking. And then you guys can figure out if you're staying on the surface or not."
"I mean, he has to," Harry chuckles. "He wouldn't be welcome back, I don't think. And if he's out here, and you guys are out here..."
"Why do we factor into it?" Jeffrey asks, giving Harry a critical look.
"Because you're my friends," Harry explains. "...I think." Maybe calling Jeffrey as much is a bit optimistic. Or stupid.
Jeffrey stares at him for a moment, like he isn't sure how to take that. "How bad were your vault friends if you're willing to call me one?" he asks incredulously. "I've been nothing but shitty to you!"
"I only had one friend in the vault," Harry says with a little smile, relieved that his assertion wasn't met with anger. "My experience is maybe a bit lacking."
"I'll say," Jeffrey snorts. He seems to hesitate for a moment, deliberating, before he sighs like he's being greatly put upon. "You're hopeless, Vault Boy. I guess it wouldn't kill me to treat you like more of an ally. Especially if you can actually fix my gun..."
"I can," Harry says confidently. "You'll see. I'll have it working better than it was before, too." That might be reckless to promise, given his complete lack of experience with energy weapons, but Jeffrey seems to be coming around on him; Harry wants to keep that going. If he fails to fix the gun and they go right back to being on bad terms, well... That's a problem for later, he supposes.
"...Then I guess you are worth my time," Jeffrey decides, looking away. "...maybe. Don't screw it up, okay?"
"Okay," Harry agrees, feeling genuinely happy with how things have gone, for once. "Wanna head back?"
Jeffrey stands, dusting himself off and watching Harry as he drags himself to his feet as well, Jeffrey's gun in one hand. They make eye contact again, and Harry feels himself grow nervous as Jeffrey seems to properly evaluate him for the first time since they met. They're something sharp about his gaze, but it no longer seems resentful, if nothing else.
Eventually, Jeffrey's expression softens slightly. "I really thought you'd have died by now. I guess you're more capable than I thought."
"...Thanks?" Harry says, bewildered, as Jeffrey walks away. He gets the sense that it was supposed to be a compliment. Just another one of those surface things he doesn't understand, maybe—or Jeffrey is simply that abrasive, even when he's trying to be nice.
It's better than nothing.