Chapter 23: Recovery

It was the first time in years Jon had real rest. No responsibility, no angles, no war, no race of psychotic criminals giving good Augments a bad reputation. There was just the slowly spinning black void as he lay in nothing, yet everything. Every choice he made led up to his assassination, including not even trying to filter synths, and he regretted nearly none of it. If his death was the rallying call, the shot heard round the wastes that drove his people forward unto the next dawn, then so be it. His only final regret was Piper being left without him. Him left without her. It didn’t really matter anymore.

Or did it. The haze had just begun to lift as the radio entered his fading headspace, “Hey hey, I’m your host, Travis Lonely Miles, and this is Diamond City Radio. If you’re just tuning in for the first time in a while, no I didn’t get replaced. I just had a couple life experiences you can ask about down at the Dugout Inn. We’ve got some news here for you fine folks. The General is still fighting, as are the Minutemen. You may have heard about the Institute taking a shot at him right before the Second Battle of Lexington and Concorde, but it apparently takes more than a bullet to the face to keep a good man down. This next song goes out to our boys and girls in blue. Every one of them is a 60 minute man, if you catch my drift.”

Jon continued to swim up though the fog as the radio clicked and returned, “Thanks for tuning in Bostonians, I’m your host with the most, Moses Pentegrath, and this is Galaxy News Radio. We bring you the news, and we bring you the blues. The news is that the General was still breathing, last time someone looked, and his Minutemen are still marching, clearing Commonwealth for all you decent folks that reside here. If you’re out there fighting that good fight, this next song is for you. Here’s the blues for our boys in blue. It’s an oldie, a goldie, I play it nearly every day, but don’t we all need a shotgun now and then? It’s Lightn’ Hopkins Bostonians.”

Jon clawed with every ounce of willpower he had. The radio clicked again, “I just want to personally thank again the General, and Strong. We at WRVR wish them nothing except the best. Our next performance is dedicated to them, and the Minutemen. Shakespeare’s Macbeth, a classic you all know and love.”

Jon was nearly there, “Howdy partners. It’s Dusty Dude, back from a bit of a break with this here bottle of New Vegas whiskey. I heard thereabouts that the General is still kicking like an ornery mule. One tough hombre if you ask me. Only know myself of one other man that got shot in the face and survived, and boy did he cause some ruckus when he woke up. If you are just wakin up, here’s an angry strum I cooked up just for you, partner. I reckon them Institute folks that took the shot are gonna feel it in a little while, like Benny did back around the Mohave parts. I’ll tell y’all about that in a bit.”

Jon took a sharp breath in as the angry strum began, and his willpower transferred to physical reaction. He shot up in his bed, and devices duck taped and attached to him ripped off in a fury. Piper yelled, “Blue!”

He took a few more centering breaths as he opened his eyes. Tried too at least. One eye opened, and it had blurriness that he would need a few moments to overcome. His left eye was gone, and he would never see from it again. Augmetns didn’t just heal back everything perfectly. The wound had scabbed over and sealed, likely before they could even get his body off the dirt. He stammered, “P-Piper. H-h-how long.”

She said, “Take it easy blue, I-”

“How long!” He yelled before nearly hitting himself. He took a few more deep breaths while opening and closing a fist.

“S-s-sorry.” He whispered.

She grabbed his hand and softly said, “It’s okay blue. Two weeks. I don’t want to leave you here, but I gotta go get some people. Your doctors. Okay?”

He nodded as he gently put himself back down on the bed. Before she took off, he said, “P-piper. I-I l-l-l-l l-l-l”

He scowled, and Piper’s hand met his face to sooth him, “I know blue. I’ll be back.”

Piper rushed out, and the blurriness in his good eye finally cleared. He was in his garage on a med bed salvaged from somewhere, with repaired and salvaged medical equipment around him. Dogmeat took Piper’s place, first getting on her chair, then using it to springboard himself on top of Jon. He huffed indigently but started scratching all the same. Dogmeat panted happily and beat his tail against Jon’s legs.

He gently put a hand to his bad eye and felt the scaring. A shift to back of his head found the exit wound. His hardened bone prevented it from being a catastrophic affair, no doubt. Instead of blowing the back of his skull out like a normal exit wound would, it simply penetrated though at 10mm in diameter, and everything was mostly held in place. It was the close range that did them in. They could only get him by being that close, but if the shot was further away, had the bullet bled more energy between the shooter and target, then it would have ricocheted off the back of his skull and mangled his gray matter as it did with Kellogg. Perhaps that’s what they counted on, assuming he was simply a cybernetic augment much like their agent. How could he beat the man otherwise?

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From the radio, the world wasn’t ending, and his Minutemen fought on. He would get a report later. He let himself slip back into the darkness of the void once again. After time he didn’t bother to track, Piper swept back in with three people he didn’t recognize.

The first one said, “Bonjour, monsieur General! How do you feel?”

Jon scoffed, “L-L-like I g-got shot in the f-f-fucking face. C-c-curie?”

She smiled, “Oui! It is I! I have gotten an upgrade, so to speak.”

The man in a clean black suit with her said, “As did I, sir. Codsworth.”

He scoffed and tried to chuckle, before failing as his facial muscles wouldn’t comply. He grimaced again and shook his head as Piper took a position beside him with her comforting hands.

Curie said, “This is my colleague, Dr. Amari, a specialist from Goodneighbor. She came highly recommended, and I must say every word of it was warranted. I will let her explain, as this is her field of expertise.”

Amari nodded, “Thank you Dr. Curie. You came within an inch, quite literally. Preston informed me of what you told him, and the only thing that saved you was the shot missing your brain stem.”

Jon said, “Th-The angle.”

Amari nodded, “Indeed. The shooter was shorter than you, as most are. He had to fire upwards at the close range he was at. You remained breathing, and it allowed them to get you to the care you needed. I will admit, however, that putting a brain back together after it was shot apart is not something I have done before. It was your own physiology that did most of the work. Our work was to keep you stable and breathing so you could heal.”

“Th-the d-damage?”

Amari said, “From the scans we took over the first week of your recovery, nothing permanent except some scaring. However, neural pathways are not something that heal from injury. They must be remade though experience. The bullet mostly affected the language center of the brain. I don’t know how many you spoke before, but I am surprised you still speak and understand English.”

Jon breathed deeply, “Tw-twenty five. I r-remember th-them all. J-just not th-the words f-for th-them. E-englishhh wa-wa-wa….my f-first.”

Amari said, “I am more impressed, and less surprised as well. I expect that your impediment will go away over time, as your brain still hasn’t healed fully as of yesterday’s scans. I recommend at least another day in bed, and another week of rest.”

Curies said, “I believe I speak for the rest of the room when I say I concur.”

Codsworth and Piper nodded, and Dogmeat even yelped a bark out. Jon agreed with how he currently felt, “H-Hungry.”

Curie perked up, “Oh oui! Lots of food un water as well now that you are up. Codsworth un I must remember these things ourselves.”

Amari said, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, nor can I believe we did it, but we had you on an IV drip of deathbone broth. The heart is in fact capable of absorbing calories. Now a normal man just injecting something like that would kill them without a special serum for it, but you are you. It’s incredible! Your neurons are, on average, five times denser tha-”

Curie gave her an eye, “Dr. Amari, usually I am the one that needs reined in from excitement.”

Amari at least looked bashful, and Jon managed a half smile. She said, “Yes of course, Dr. Curie. I will leave you to rest. At the end of the week, we will take one last scan to see where you’re at.”

Before they left Jon nearly whispered, “Th-thank you.”

They left, and Jon was alone again with Piper and Dogmeat. He got up to take a watch, and Piper simply looked at Jon while stroking his hair. She said, “Let me get you some food, blue.”

Jon needed to know, “Wh-what h-h-happened.”

“Blue, take some rest for once.” She softly ordered.

Jon wasn’t having it, “P-piper.”

She looked unfavorably at him, but her blue was her blue. She said, “It was a shit show after yah, yah know, got shot in the face like a big dummy. But not even an Institute assassin or their synths were going to stop what you started with that little speech. When you’re actually on your feet, then I’ll drag someone out here to give you the scoop. Probably Daley. I think he likes me.”

Jon scoffed with a sloppy grin as she peeled off to prepare some food. He sat and pondered some more. Recollected, organized, took stock. Everything was mostly all there, just his knowledge of languages was atom bombed, and he felt a little slower. Perhaps that would go away, he hopped. Slow for an Augment is still fast for most, though.

Piper came back with power noodles, meat, some vegetables, all in the death bone broth. Piper said, “According to them, the death claw bones have actually healing properties. Abernathy donated their entire stock of broth.”

Jon took it and slowly began working it into his mouth. He didn’t feel unsteady in that regard. He said, “F-fuck. G-g-gonna hav-have to st-st-s-s-stage a s-s-sp fuck! Just p-publish a n-note in the p-paper. Thanks.”

Piper smiled, and tried not to laugh at his struggle. She said, “Be a headline blue. A real quote. So, we got a working TV. Another donation. Nick dropped off the flicks you guys took from Kellogg, traded him for those holotapes.”

Jon said, “O-One Condition.”

Piper said, “Name it.”

Jon took several deep breaths. He centered himself as only an Augment could. He felt the strain on his scared gray matter, and understood super mutants in a way no one else could. The doctors, or Piper, may not approve, but the brain was a muscle that needed exercised. Especially after injury.

He spoke, “You’re not dragging the thing out here. I’m walking out of this bed under my own power, and I’m spending the next week in my own with you.”

Piper smiled warmly, “A fair deal, blue.”