falloutkinkmeme_backup | Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

Neither of them really died when they were supposed to. They stumble across one other while wandering the wastes sometime after Fallout 3 and decide to travel together. What happens next is totally up to whoever might want to fill this, but I would love it if Israel's connection to the Enclave came back to haunt them in a big way.

(Also, by no means required, but there are some bonus points in it for you if all that radiation has turned James into a Ghoul)

YES YES YES YES YES

Are you ok with these two having a prior history? Because it's kind of my head canon that James delivered Arcade. Will fill either way so tentative claim? (I have college which totally harshes my ladyboner.)

Ohhh, yes, definitely! It hadn't even occured to me, but I kind of love the idea.

(Oh god, college. So much stuff to do that's not porn related. :( )

YAY! Expect something soonish.

I know. D: It kills me inside when I have to work on statistics instead of hot dickings. D:

There’s an old ghoul that no one talks to that sits in the corner of the bar. No one knows his story, but they all know him. He gives medical attention for a fee less than the other doctor’s around. He is always reading some strange, tattered book called ‘Bible’. He hardly speaks, but when he does his voice still sounds human with a faint trace of coarseness. He flips through the pages delicately, silently mouthing the words to himself.

There is a man who just got into town. No one has talked to him, and no one knows his story. People stay away, intimidated by his crackling electric armor. He has the edges of blond hair turning grey, and a hard look to his blue eyes. He sees the ghoul sitting alone at the bar, and walks up to him as though he is an old friend.

“’I am the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end,” he says, causing the ghoul’s head to perk up. “I will give unto him that is athirst of the waters of life freely.”

“How’d you recognize me?” the ghoul asks, gingerly shutting the book. “I can’t even recognize myself most days.” The man smiles, and it softens his hard gaze.

“I didn’t. I recognized your Bible. If it wasn’t you, I was going to kill whoever had taken it from you.” The ghoul shakes his head, standing up.

“Still the same old warrior, aren’t you, Israel?”

“Seems you’re still the same old good-doer, James,” Israel replies easily. “Come with me.” The ghoul looks at him for a moment, not sure what to say to the offer. Israel jerks his thumb to the door behind him. “I won’t wait forever.”

James nods slowly, as if reassuring himself that this isn’t a dream, and he walks off, side-by-side with the electric soldier.

They move through Arizona. The Legion ignores them, and some of the recent recruits fear Israel. The call him a crackling demon because of his armor, and it gives them leeway to move freely. They have not incurred the wrath of Caesar. They have not even been noticed by Caesar. That suits them just fine.

James listens to his Pip-Boy radio every night, missing the sound of Three Dog’s voice. Israel knows what he hopes to hear, and doesn’t have the heart to tell him he will probably never hear it again. So he gets James to talk.

“Why are you always fiddling with that thing?” he asks gruffly, knowing full well the why of it, but hoping to ease his friend’s pain. James smiles serenely, and Israel can see a hint of the man James used to look like.

“I’m listening for her,” he says, turning the knob to another frequency. “I saw her once, after she turned on the purifier. I was in the late stages of radiation sickness. My skin was flaking off, exposing the soft muscle underneath.”

“Soft? You let that Vault turn you into a pansy?” Israel snorts. James nods.

“There was no reason to fight in there. It wasn’t perfect, but it provided a good home for my daughter.” After a pause, he adds, “I hated it in there.” Israel laughs, motioning for him to continue. “She had just woken up. The radiation knocked her out, just as it had done to me.” He smiles sadly, stirring the embers of the slowly fading fire. “It might be a bit longer, and take a little more radiation, but she’ll probably end up like her old man if she doesn’t die before then.”

“And you’re looking for her?” Israel gently prompts. James nods, shaking himself out of his sad thoughts.

“Yes. I didn’t approach her. I,” he pauses, looking toward the dark horizon. “I didn’t want to complicate things. She seemed so happy. She’s grown up, and she doesn’t need me anymore. And, selfishly, I didn’t want her to see me like this.” He resignedly looks down at his decayed hand, flexing the fingers. Israel nods, and doesn’t press for anymore. James continues to search through the radio stations for any news at all. A crackling voice cutting in and out proclaims,

“A package Courier found shot in the head outside of Goodsprings has recovered. She seems to be doing fine, but only time will tell. This is Mr. New Vegas, wishing you lady-like luck tonight.” Distorted music begins to jingle, and Israel can make out the words to Blue Moon.

James turns his radio off, but there is a glimmer of hope in his eyes that Israel isn’t willing to extinguish.

what in the darn heck THIS IS SO AWESOME. This is great in an unbelievable way. Can't wait to read more!

OP here again, and I'm so excited for this I barely have words!

Oh, oh James. I want to give you all the hugs in the world.

“I hate it here,” Israel grumbles, shifting uncomfortably in his leather armor. He hid his Enclave armor in a bunker somewhere before they made it to the Mojave. Neither of them want the attention of the NCR.

“It isn’t so bad,” James comments, squinting to look at the lights in the distance. “Seems a fair bit more civilized than when we were last here.”

“You can’t civilize savages,” Israel grumbles, wiping the sweat from his brow. James chuckles, pausing just long enough to harvest some white horsenettle.

“You’re just being grumpy,” James teases. In a more serious tone,
he says, “Good God, Israel. We’re getting old.” Israel just harrumphs, and moves to follow the ghoul.

They pass through Goodsprings, at James’ instance. He asks around about the courier who had survived a bullet to the head.

“What was her hair color? Eye color? Did she remember her name? Did she have anyone with her?”

Israel grows uncomfortable with James’ desperate questioning, the tone in his voice hitting a little too close to home. He leaves James to his integration, and goes to the Prospector Saloon.

“Please,” he says to no one in particular, and no one answers him.

James wearily follows him after a while, unsatisfied with the answers he had gotten from the townspeople. They had been wary of him, and didn’t tell him much.

Israel doesn’t ask how it went. He can see it in his eyes.

The next day, the duo set off again, and the bounce in James’ step is significantly subdued. He is glued to the radio to no avail; the courier isn’t mentioned anywhere.

“You ever think it might not be her?” Israel asks as they traverse I-95. “That you might be mistaken?” James shakes his head sadly.

“It’s the only lead I’ve got, Israel.” Israel doesn’t answers, only thinking of the blond haired boy he left behind, once upon a time.

I love this. Partially because I'm a sucker for FO3/FNV crossovers, but mostly because its really well written.

I'm loving this so much. Hell, the pairing alone was enough to make me instantly subscribe, but I love the story, and your writing, and and and basically I can't wait for the next update please and thank you <3!

Oh man I love this so very much. I can't wait to see Israel and James meet Arcade and Courier! My heart flutters at the thought!

The searing Mojave sun beats down on them. Israel has to stop to rest more often than he would have liked, but James doesn’t say anything about it, other than hounding him to drink more water. On one such occasion, they are taking advantage of the meager shade of a honey mesquite tree. Israel watches the sky through the thin branches, ignoring the way his bones creak when he shifts too much.

Good God, Israel. We’re getting old.

He scoffs, taking another sip of water out of a bottle held by a wrinkled, trembling hand. The radio talks about events going on in the Mojave, never mentioning anyone by name. Israel can practically taste the disappointment radiating off of James.

He leans back against the rough tree trunk, and shuts his eyes against the light. He tries not to think of his own son, but he drifts into his thoughts. He can only remember him as a little slip of a thing, squinty-eyed and always getting into Mona’s books. Israel never thought he’d miss his freckled splattered face and crooked smile as much as he does.

No matter how old Israel turns, whether or not he gets turned into a ghoul (God forbid, he can’t imagine living that long), he will always regret leaving Arcade behind.

He tries to force the sad thoughts from his mind by resting. He’ll only sleep a moment. He wants to forget his past, to forget Arcade and Mona. Soft music from James’ radio lulls him into a blissful, dreamless sleep.

When he wakes up, it is already dark out. He grumbles at James’ for letting him sleep so long.

“I’m not a damn pansy,” he mutters. James smiles knowingly, and Israel feels his heart constrict with gratitude.

James has always known him better than he has known himself. He isn’t the oldest friend, but he is the best, and Israel is honored to be traveling with him once again.

Hell, all of his other friends were probably dead.

“Enough is enough,” Boone says firmly. The Courier tries to stifle her coughing long enough to answer him. She manages to shake her head no. His mouth sets in a firm line. He opens his mouth to call her by her name, and she winces.

She wants to forget who she was before she was Courier.

“Don’t-“ she coughs, wheezing to catch her breath. “Don’t call me that.” She falters underneath his gaze. “You don’t have the right,” she finishes quietly.

“The right to what? To tell you to get help? To save your own life?”

“Big words from a man with a god-“ she coughs again, blood spattering her palm. “God damned death wish.” He crosses his arms, the tense set of his shoulders all that is need to let her know she hit a sore spot. She winces. “There isn’t anything anyone can do. I guess you can say this is a remnant of my own death wish.” She wipes the blood on her jeans, not caring anymore if he sees it.

“Fine,” he says as she lies down to go to bed. “I’m not going to let this go,” he warns. She nods, and he sets up watch for the night, his back to her. She reaches in her pocket for a weathered slip of paper. She isn’t sure how it’s lasted this long without disintegrating between her nervous fingers. She curls up to mouth the single word written on the paper over and over again before falling asleep.

Boone doesn’t ask her why she says that word anymore. At first, he thought she was Legion. Thought she was saying the name of their ferryman to haunt him. But she says it the way he says Carla’s name when he wakes up from the nightmares that plague him, and so he leaves it be.

ajlk;dsfjkls I am loving this series so much. I had the crappiest day, got home, saw updates waiting in my inbox and made a-- a sound that was very manly and not at all a squeal. So yes. Loving this.

all of my hnnnng for this fill. Because I get boners just thinking about how awesome it is.

Courier unwillingly walks into the Old Mormon Fort, Boone at her heels. The piece of paper is clenched in her hand like a talisman, and she gives Boone longing side long glances. She doesn’t want him to watch over her, and he is fine with that. He doesn’t know who she longs for, but it isn’t him, and that is fine.

Julie Farkas is busy tending to sick residents of Freeside, so Courier waits. She paces around camp nervously, avoiding eye contact with anyone who tries to look at her.

Julie sticks her head into Arcade’s tent, arms full of an ill, screaming child.

“Arcade,” she says desperately. He looks up from his book. “I need you to look at the Courier.” He makes a face, but dutifully stands up.

“All right. Lead the way,” he answers. She points toward the Courier, and Arcade’s heart locks in his throat.

Dirty blonde hair hangs over her eyes, but he can still make out the blue color behind them. Her face is full of hard angles better suited for a man, and if he squints he can almost see who she reminds him of. He cautiously approaches her, as if afraid she’ll disappear any minute. When she sees him, she forces a weary smile.

“Hello. Are you the doctor I need to see?” she asks, and the illusion is broken.

“Yes. I’m Arcade. I’m afraid I don’t have a good bedside manner,” he says. She doesn’t react at his name, and it’s enough to make him wonder if she even knows the man he is thinking of. “What’s your name?” She flinches, and it’s so slight he isn’t sure if she even flinched at all.

“Courier,” she says after a moment’s deliberation. “Just Courier.” He nods.

“All right, ‘Just Courier’, if you’ll follow me to my tent, I’ll take a look at you.” She nods and follows him. The man n the red beret shoots her a questioning look, and she smiles weakly at him.

“I’ll be fine,” she tells him. “You don’t have to come in and hold my hand.” He nods slowly, and Arcade gets the vibe that the man would have done that very thing, had she asked him to. He motion for her to seat in his recently vacated chair, and she does.

“So, what’s the problem?” he asks. She hesitates.

“Radiation poisoning,” she says finally. He nods, moving to get his doctor’s bag.

“All right. Nothing a little Rad-X can’t fix, depending on how long you’ve been afflicted. When did you-“

“I’m dying,” she says firmly. He looks at her incredulously, and she smiles weakly. “Took a massive dose of radiation close to my twentieth birthday. Knocked me out for two weeks. When I woke, I drank Rad-X like it was water. Hell, I practically bathed in the stuff. But-“

“But you didn’t do all of that soon enough. Damage was already done,” Arcade finishes. She nods. “So I take it you’re here because your friend insisted?” She nods again. Arcade sighs, and pulls up a chair to sit next to her. “You and I both know there isn’t anything I can do.”

“Yes,” she says, and he can see who she reminds him of again. A smiling man with dark circles underneath his eyes that picks him up and swings him around while his parents look on indulgently. A man who grew old before his time, like the girl sitting in front of him.

I am really loving this. Can't wait for more.

Courier

courier no

don't die

I love this fiiiiiiicc

Israel fidgets uncomfortably. He never fidgets. But James dragged him to Camp Forlorn Hope, after following the news of their attack on Nelson, the charge led by the Courier. James helps Doctor Richards with the new influx of patients, much to the good doctor’s gratitude.

He can’t relax. He is in enemy territory. He feels that they know him on sight, and he will have to fight them for his life. But the soldiers pass him by, and they’re more chipper after the successful battle.

They don’t see him, and he doesn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

James is asking around about the girl. He’s getting definite details on her appearance that fuel his hope. Dirty blonde hair. Blue eyes. Dark circles underneath her eyes. She travels with an NCR sniper, a cyberdog, a Mexican ghoul, a drunkard, a tinkerer, a super mutant, an eyebot (Israel raises his eyebrow at that one), and a doctor. James comes back more blissful than Israel has ever seen him, and he doesn’t have the heart to voice his doubts.

“Maybe that doctor will be my new son-in-law,” he jokes, and Israel smiles weakly in reply. James insists on eating dinner with the troops, and one of them comes up to him. She’s First Recon, the beret lopsidedly placed on her head.

“Hey,” she greets. James smiles brightly, his ruined face looking a little worse for wear despite the smile.

“Hello. What can I do for you?” he asks.

“I hear you’re looking for the Courier. How come?” she asks, her voice gentle and undemanding. James hesitates, and Israel watches the woman closely, ready to pounce.

“I-I think I might know her,” he decides to say. She nods, and says,

“She’s heading back to the Strip. You might be able to catch her,” she says. “I’d worry about what you want her for, but you’ve done a hell of a thing helping Richards.” She grins, and adds, “Plus, I’d be worried about her if she couldn’t defend herself with that giant group she’s got.” James smiles, and sets his utensils down.

“Thank you. We’ll leave as soon as possible. Israel?” he asks, and he leaves his concern for the other man’s wellbeing unsaid. Israel nods, swallowing a mouthful of Instamash.

“Let’s go,” he says, trying to ignore the creaking in his old bones.

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“You know, they were just old men,” Cass says as they walk through the gate to Jacobstown. Veronica sighs. It is a conversation they’d been having the entire way back. One Veronica was being to hate.

“Cass, I know. It’s just that even old men can be hard and unforgiving. They, the ghoul especially, were interested in Courier.”

“Yeah? A lot of people are interested in Courier. She’s raising some kind hell around here,” Cass comments, leaning down to pick up some snow, letting it fall from her fingers. Veronica watches the snowflakes that melt cling to Cass’ hand.

“Courier has enemies. Enemies she’s too sick to deal with,” she says. “Something just didn’t sit right with me. I’m sorry.” Cass shrugs.

“Don’t apologize to me. I ain’t mad. Besides, it’s a small wasteland. We’ll see them again.”

“No more lies!” The voice is quiet but insistent. It isn’t full of rage, bit a resigned sort of sorrow. They look over to see a familiar flash of a red beret against the snow covered trees. Courier is leaning against one, looking sicker than she did when they left. She’s smoking a cigarette, and stifling her coughing. Veronica makes a move to move toward them, but Cass grabs her arm.

“Wait a minute, kid,” she murmurs. “We should probably go inside.” Veronica looks up at her, and Boone’s soft voice drifts to the through the quiet and cold air.

“You screamed about someone named Autumn, and Charon. Tore the room apart looking for your plasma rifle. No more lies, Catherine. ” Courier sighs, her head leaning back to look at the sky.

“You deserve that much, don’t you? What do you want to know?” she asks.

“Everything. Who are you? Enclave?” he demands. She scowls at the mention of the Enclave, and shakes her head.

“The Lone Wanderer,” she answers. Boone tilts his head, surprise blossoming over his face.

“What?”

“I’m on the radio.” At the blank look Boone gives her, she says, ”You know, ‘Helllooooooo chiiiiiiildren, it’s Three Dog, and I’m here to tell you about that kid from Vault 101!” As soon as she finishes speaking, she closes her eyes. “Hell. This isn’t the Capital Wasteland. Sorry. I’m the Lone Wanderer, Catherine Neil. Honorary Brotherhood Paladin, and scourge of the East Coast Enclave.” She lifts a necklace chain out of her shirt to reveal glittering holotags. “Now I’m Courier, and I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

“You’re Brotherhood?” Veronica and Boone ask at the same time, one sounding excited and the other betrayed. She nods. Cass eyes her warily.

“What in the hell did we miss while we were gone?”

Doc Henry cleans his medical instruments, and his scalpel gleams in the faint moonlight drifting through the windows.

“You know,” he says. “I never expected to see you again. I thought you were dead.”

“Funny. I could’ve said the same for you. After all, you are two years older than God,” a light voice seemingly teases. But there is an underlying tension to Arcade’s words that permeates the air, and Henry isn’t deaf to it.

“You can’t run far enough, you know,” Henry says after a moment. “All you can do is accept it.”

“Accept what?” Arcade says. “My past? The way you accepted me?”

“Don’t blame me for Moreno’s shortcomings,” Henry says. “We all loved you, Moreno included. He just didn’t know how to show it other than knocking the hell out of you from time to time.” Arcade grits his teeth at his matter-of-fact tone, and shakes off the phantom pains that shoot over his skin from bruises long since healed.

“Subject change,” Arcade says brusquely, and Henry nods.

“Your cyberdog, Rex, is going to be just fine. His memories need time to meld with that of the old scrapyard dog, but he’ll be fine. Can’t say the same for your friend, though. She’s lost what, ten pounds since you arrived?”

“Almost fifteen,” Arcade says quietly. “But who’s counting?” Henry looks over at him and says,

“She looks like him, you know.”

“I know.”

“Have you asked her about him?”

“No,” Arcade says finally, pushing the image of a weary man with blue eyes from his mind. “I haven’t.”

“Afraid of what you’ll hear?” Henry puts down his instruments. “I don’t blame you. We lost all contact with him after Moreno ran him off. He loved your parents, as all of us did.”

“I don’t remember my parents very well,” Arcade admits. “I just remember him.” Henry smiles almost indulgently, and says,

“He was extraordinary. Unforgettable. If you were to see him again, I have no doubt you would recognize him in a heartbeat.” Arcade nods, and reaches over to pat Rex. The dog’s tail wags happily in his sleep, and the doctor smiles.

“I know you always wanted a dog,” Henry says, breaking the tranquil and resigned peace that had come over Arcade. His voice sounds unsure, tentative, as if he had never said the words he was going to say next and wasn’t sure if they would sound right. “I am sorry you never got one.”

“It’s all right. Would’ve been hard with all of the moving around we did. And the hiding.” Arcade pulls his hand away from Rex’s fur, his fingers still curling to touch it. Henry nods and, seeing as there was no more that Arcade was willing to discuss, he leaves Henry, and the memories contained within him , behind.

You know a!a, I have had a ridiculously crappy day, and you have made it so much better.

What I love about this fic is the way you keep separating characters out into pairs or trios, and combining/recombining them in interesting ways that you don't see often. I didn't even realise before I read this that I really wanted to see a conversation between Arcade and Doc Henry.

Oh,a!a,I can barely wait to see how the story concludes!This is so lovely written,in character and sooo touching <3 Please,don't leave us anons here hanging!

Gosh, I need more! I'd read any of your fics if you could link to them or something.

James/Israel Gannon

Re: James/Israel Gannon

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