“What the hell is that thing doing here?” Courier demands, startling Arcade out of his slumber. He groggily tries to wipe the sleep from his eyes, and puts on his glasses. Courier frantically searches for something whilst glaring daggers at ED-E. Boone is speaking unsurely, stumbling over his words and trying to calm her.
“Where in the hell is my plasma rifle? Charon?” she calls, looking under the bed. Boone spots Arcade getting up, and a pitiful sort of relief courses through his being.
“Her fever went back up,” he says. “Her skin is so hot. I don’t know how she’s walking around. Arcade, help me. I don’t know what to do.” Arcade nods, patting him on the shoulder.
“You’ve done the best you’ve been able,” he murmurs, eyeing Courier as she swings at ED-E. “Don’t worry.”
“Autumn! Can you hear me?” she says menacingly to ED-E, throwing a lamp at the robot. He chirps unhappily as he dodges it, and Arcade does his best to shield Boone from the spray of broken glass. “You are never going to get our hands on it. Do you fucking hear me? I won’t let you have it!”
“Courier,” Arcade tries, but she doesn’t respond. “Courier, stop. That’s ED-E. ED-E. He’s ours.”
“God damn it, where is my plasma rifle?” She spots Arcade, and a look of recognition flashes in her eyes. “You know, the one I got from Harkness? Dogmeat,” she says, turning toward Rex. The dog sleepily raises his head in confusion. “Can you find it, boy?”
“Courier,” Arcade tries again. “I don’t know where you think you are, but you’re in the Mojave. We’re at Jacobstown. That’s Rex.” She gives him a blank stare.
“Courier?” she asks. “That isn’t my name.” Boone steps forward, motioning for her to come to him.
“Catherine,” he says, and she turns her gaze to him. “You’re very sick. You need to rest.” He takes an unsteady step toward her, holding out his hand. “Arcade is a doctor. He’ll help you.” Courier wobbles on her feet unsteadily, holding her head.
“It hurts,” she whimpers.
“I know it does. Come on. Get back in bed.” She nods, and Boone helps her back to the bed. Her eyes close as soon as her head hits the pillow, and they try not to focus on how shallow her breathing is. Arcade busily gets to work, opening his doctor’s bag. Boone wipes the sweat from her brow almost lovingly.
“This isn’t just a fever, is it?” he asks. Arcade doesn’t answer, allowing him to continue talking. “I heard stories back in the NCR about this sort of thing. People too irradiated to be well, but not enough to die. It starts to affect their brain.”
“Her brain is decaying,” Arcade says finally. “Rotting in her skull. I wasn’t sure at first, but I was afraid. Now I know I’m right.”
“Ferals go through the same thing,” a voice from the doorway startles both of them. Raul stands there, leaning against the wall and looking years older. “That’s why they’re barely more than snarling savages, right Doc?” Arcade nods, and can feel Boone breaking next to him.
The other man doesn’t say anything else, but Arcade can feel him trembling. He can see his grief in the way he holds Courier’s hand. Finally, he whispers,
“How long?” Arcade feels a sharp pain in his chest.
“Anywhere from a few months to a few years,” he answers, Lies, he thinks. She won’t last another year. “There are ways to stem the tide, but it’ll submerge her eventually.” Boone nods, pressing her hand against his cheek.
The three of them sit in silence, watching the unsteady rise and fall of her breathing
Keep Your Composure 16/?
“Where in the hell is my plasma rifle? Charon?” she calls, looking under the bed. Boone spots Arcade getting up, and a pitiful sort of relief courses through his being.
“Her fever went back up,” he says. “Her skin is so hot. I don’t know how she’s walking around. Arcade, help me. I don’t know what to do.” Arcade nods, patting him on the shoulder.
“You’ve done the best you’ve been able,” he murmurs, eyeing Courier as she swings at ED-E. “Don’t worry.”
“Autumn! Can you hear me?” she says menacingly to ED-E, throwing a lamp at the robot. He chirps unhappily as he dodges it, and Arcade does his best to shield Boone from the spray of broken glass. “You are never going to get our hands on it. Do you fucking hear me? I won’t let you have it!”
“Courier,” Arcade tries, but she doesn’t respond. “Courier, stop.
That’s ED-E. ED-E. He’s ours.”
“God damn it, where is my plasma rifle?” She spots Arcade, and a look of recognition flashes in her eyes. “You know, the one I got from Harkness? Dogmeat,” she says, turning toward Rex. The dog sleepily raises his head in confusion. “Can you find it, boy?”
“Courier,” Arcade tries again. “I don’t know where you think you are, but you’re in the Mojave. We’re at Jacobstown. That’s Rex.” She gives him a blank stare.
“Courier?” she asks. “That isn’t my name.” Boone steps forward, motioning for her to come to him.
“Catherine,” he says, and she turns her gaze to him. “You’re very sick. You need to rest.” He takes an unsteady step toward her, holding out his hand. “Arcade is a doctor. He’ll help you.” Courier wobbles on her feet unsteadily, holding her head.
“It hurts,” she whimpers.
“I know it does. Come on. Get back in bed.” She nods, and Boone helps her back to the bed. Her eyes close as soon as her head hits the pillow, and they try not to focus on how shallow her breathing is. Arcade busily gets to work, opening his doctor’s bag. Boone wipes the sweat from her brow almost lovingly.
“This isn’t just a fever, is it?” he asks. Arcade doesn’t answer, allowing him to continue talking. “I heard stories back in the NCR about this sort of thing. People too irradiated to be well, but not enough to die. It starts to affect their brain.”
“Her brain is decaying,” Arcade says finally. “Rotting in her skull. I wasn’t sure at first, but I was afraid. Now I know I’m right.”
“Ferals go through the same thing,” a voice from the doorway startles both of them. Raul stands there, leaning against the wall and looking years older. “That’s why they’re barely more than snarling savages, right Doc?” Arcade nods, and can feel Boone breaking next to him.
The other man doesn’t say anything else, but Arcade can feel him trembling. He can see his grief in the way he holds Courier’s hand. Finally, he whispers,
“How long?” Arcade feels a sharp pain in his chest.
“Anywhere from a few months to a few years,” he answers, Lies, he thinks. She won’t last another year. “There are ways to stem the tide, but it’ll submerge her eventually.” Boone nods, pressing her hand against his cheek.
The three of them sit in silence, watching the unsteady rise and fall of her breathing