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Keep Your Composure 14a/?
Date: 2011-12-06 06:55 pm (UTC)“But there is,” they had replied. “You can rejoin our ranks, or you can watch your entire platoon die. Moreno, Kreger, Johnson, Whitman. We will execute them all. Your wife and child? We will tie them to posts, and leave them for raiders. That soldier from the East? We will send him back to his commanding officers in a matchbox. Your call, Gannon.”
He had made his call, and loathed the Enclave ever since. He rejoiced when, a scant two years later, a tribal from Arroyo blew Navarro to hell. He never set out to search for them, instead drifting through the wastes as a man without a purpose. He didn’t think they would ever forgive him for his deception.
“’And she said unto him, How canst thou say, I love thee, when thine heart is not with me? Thou hast mocked me these three times, and hast not told me wherein thy great strength lieth.’”
“That’s enough for now,” Israel says, a sick feeling in his stomach. “I’m feeling tired.” James nods, shutting his book. “Short version. How does it end?”
“Samson, vexed to death by Deliliah’s questioning, tells her the secret of his strength.”
“What is it?”
“His hair. He keeps it long, and God gives him strength.”
“What happens afterwards?” Israel asks, stifling a yawn. James pulls the blanket up around his narrow, withered shoulders.
“She cuts his hair, robbing him of his strength, and delivers him to his enemies,” James answers smoothly, tucking the blanket around Israel. His hands warm his freezing flesh, and he is sad to feel them leave his skin.
“What an awful story,” Israel murmurs, his eyes drifting close. “Is the whole book like that?” James chuckles, and Israel can see his youthful face smiling in his memories.
“Only half of it.”
“And the other half?”
“I’ll tell you when you wake up.”
Re: Keep Your Composure 14a/?
Date: 2011-12-07 08:54 am (UTC)Keep Your Composure 15a/?
Date: 2011-12-14 04:11 am (UTC)Courier falls ill with a fever. Marcus lets them stay in the rooms farthest from the rest of Jacobstown’s inhabitants, much to Keene’s displeasure. The nightkin finds little solace in the fact that they are too far away to stare at him and his brethren.
Boone leans against the wall with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, and his teeth clench with every rattling breath Courier takes. Veronica hovers over Arcade’s shoulder worriedly, and Arcade finally has to come get Cass to pry her away.
“Tell everyone I’m fine,” Courier says weakly, after drifting in and out of consciousness for some time. “Arcade, I could cut the tension in this room with a knife. It’s just a fever.”
“You’re treading on dangerous ground,” he says, checking her temperature. She is still hot to the touch. “Even ‘just a fever’ could kill you in the state you’re in.” She makes a face, and turns to look at the rest of the group, Veronica in particular.
“I’ll be fine,” she says, forcing a grin. “What I care about is Rex. Did anyone find out where to get him a new brain?”
“Best bet is Gibson Scrapyard,” Cass says. “I can get it while you recover.” Courier nods, her eyes drifting closed. She struggles to stay awake.
“Take someone with you,” she says sleepily. Cass motions for Veronica to follow her, and Veronica shakes her head.
“Come on, kid,” Cass says gently. Veronica doesn’t say anything, but miserably follows the other woman out. Courier falls asleep, and Arcade sighs.
All he can do now is wait.
After the sun sets, the Courier’s fever still hasn’t broken, and it’s affecting her state of mind. She glances around the room frantically.
“We have to go,” she says. “Where is Charon?” Arcade bites back a weary sigh. Boone places a hand on his shoulder.
“I can stay with her if you need sleep,” he offers, and Arcade isn’t sure if he’s ever been tempted by anything more in his life. He nods sleepily, and stands up.
“Come get me if you can’t handle her,” he says. Courier swigs her legs over the bed, and Arcade watches Boone try to gently push her back.
“You need rest,” he says gently, and Courier looks on the verge of tears.
“You don’t understand,” she whispers. “We can’t let them have it. Where is Charon?”
“We won’t,” Boone says, and Arcade could bless him if he were a religious man. “We’ll keep it safe.”
“Charon,” she demands. She begins calling for him, and she struggles away from Boone to stand. Arcade bites back a shout. He’s tired, she’s sick, and all he wants to do is fall in a heap and sleep for the next few days. She manages to get to the door, only to be stopped by Raul.
“Get back in bed,” the ghoul says firmly, his hands clenching her shoulders. She looks up at him, and caresses his cheek almost blissfully.
“Charon,” she says happily, and Arcade can see Raul’s resulting wince from across the room.
“Hija,” he begins, but she doesn’t let him finish. Her lips slam against the ghoul’s with a desperate want that makes Arcade blush. He chances a glance over at Boone, and tries not to flinch at the hopeless look on the other man’s face.
Raul pushes the Courier away after a moment (too long of a moment, Arcade thinks), and she simply gazes up happily at him.
“I thought you were dead,” she whispers, and Raul, for once, looks at a loss for words. He leads her back to the bed, and touches the back of his palm to her forehead.
“Arcade,” he murmurs, and Arcade nods, pulling out a syringe of Med-X to administer to bring her fever down.
“Keep her distracted,” he orders, and Raul nods wearily. She turns to look at Raul again with a smile.
“I love you,” she says, throwing her arms around it. “I never told you that enough.” Raul hugs her back, more to hold her in place so Arcade can give her the shot than anything else.
“I know,” he says softly, kissing her forehead. Arcade administers the Med-X, and only a soft gasp of pain is heard from Courier, which Raul soothes with another kiss. “I always knew.”
Re: Keep Your Composure 15a/?
Date: 2011-12-14 04:34 am (UTC)Re: Keep Your Composure 15a/?
Date: 2011-12-14 06:20 am (UTC)Keep Your Composure 15b/?
Date: 2011-12-14 05:30 pm (UTC)“I don’t know,” Raul answers evasively.
“Bullshit,” Boone snaps. “You talk to her about him. She hallucinates that you’re him. That piece of paper she carries around like a god damned rosary has his name written on it. Who. Is. He?” Arcade puts a hand on Boone’s arm in an effort to soothe him, but he shrugs it off. He shoots a guilty look at Arcade, and so Arcade leaves him alone. Raul sighs before answering.
“I met him about fifty years ago. I made my way to a place called The Capital Wasteland.” Arcade shoots a look at Courier, and she looks more like James when she’s asleep. “I think that’s where Courier’s from. If so, it’s a wonder she made it out here. The Capital Wasteland is a godless, lawless land. Everything is dead, and people would kill one another over a bottle of clean water. At least, they did when I was there last.”
“And Charon?” Boone prompts.
“A ghoul. He worked for a slimly bastard named Ahzrukhal down in Underworld. He didn’t talk much, but from what I could gather Ahzrukhal has just bought his contract. Some sort of brain-washing keeps him bound to whoever holds that slip of paper. I don’t know how Courier met him, just that she did.”
“And now she thinks he’s dead,” Arcade murmurs. Boone shifts uncomfortably, all of his previous anger dissipated. He takes a seat next to Courier’s bed, and a weak smile breaks over his face when ED-E begins to play soft music.
“You guys can go to sleep,” he croaks. “I’ll watch her.” Arcade nods, and Raul hesitantly pats Boone’s shoulder before leaving the room as fast as his old legs can carry him.
“You sure?” Arcade asks. Boone nods.
“Yeah.” Arcade walks toward the other bed in the room, and collapses on it. Boone slumps over in his chair, and his hand reaches out to grasp hers. Her skin is still unbearably hot, even with the dose of Med-X.
Arcade watches Boone watch Courier until he finally drifts into unconsciousness.
Re: Keep Your Composure 15b/?
Date: 2011-12-17 11:09 am (UTC)Keep Your Composure 16/?
Date: 2011-12-20 06:02 pm (UTC)“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
Re: Keep Your Composure 16/?
Date: 2011-12-20 06:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-23 02:21 am (UTC)James and Israel begin traveling again at Israel’s insistence. Israel doesn’t want to be the one to keep James behind. He can push these old bones forward for the chance
to make James happy.
They stop in Novac, and James chuckles to himself.
“I’ll be damned,” he says, craning his head to look up at the dinosaur. “That old thing is still here.” Israel scoffs. James shakes his head. “Let’s get a room for the night.”
“I can keep going,” Israel offers.
“You can, but I can’t. These old bones need to rest,” James says, flashing him a grin. “You know how I can get without my beauty sleep.” Israel barks a laugh and they head to the shop inside the dinosaur. The man behind the counter is busy helping two young women pick out supplies. Israel crinkles his nose in disgust. They smell like they haven’t bathed, and he stops himself from thinking what he and James must smell like, an old man and a rotting ghoul.
While the shop owner goes to retrieve their ammo, food, whiskey and various books, the woman in the cowboy hat elbows the woman in the hood.
“Chin up, soldier,” she says. “She’ll be fine. It’s like she said-it’s just a fever. Look at how far she’s gotten already.” The other woman nods sadly, and the woman in the cowboy hat flings an arm around her. “Come on. We’ll spend the night here and get plastered, and head back to Jacobstown in the morning.” The woman in the hood forces a smile, and James watches the shop owner come back with his arms full of their supplies. He drops a few of the books.
“Darn it,” he says. James bends over to help him, picking up a weathered book. The shop owner thanks him, and James nods, smiling softly in reply.
“Ah,” he says. “Rousseau. This is heavy reading for a night of heavy drinking.”
“We have friends who are into books,” the woman in the cowboy hat says, taking it from him. “Including this cute little number here,” and at that, she nudges the other woman. “Personally, I could never get into books. Too much fucking work.”
“Same,” Israel grunts.
“They’re get well presents,” the woman in the hood says.
“Oh?” James says, and Israel has always loved and hated his friendliness. “The friend with a fever? I’ve always found that hot Bramhim stew and cold Nuka Cola makes me feel better.” He holds his hand out. “James.” With a grin, the cowgirl takes it.
“Cass. “
“Veronica.” James nudges Israel, and he reluctantly answers,
“Israel.” Cass grins, motioning to the copious amounts of whiskey the two had bought.
“Would you fellas like to drink with us?” James smiles, and Israel grudgingly nods.
“We would love to.”
The four of them make their way to the motel room at the top of the stairs, and Israel grabs James’ arm.
“What are you doing?” he hisses. James just smiles serenely, and reassuringly pats his hand.
“It’s good to make friends,” he says. “Besides, I haven’t had a decent drink in God knows how long, and I’m sure you haven’t either. And if the booze is free, then who am I to complain?” Israel stares at him incredulously, and James leans in to murmur against his ear. “The one in the hood is Brotherhood. I can see her holotags around her neck. I want to see if they know my daughter.” Israel suppresses a shudder at the hot air ghosting across his ear, and nods.
“Your daughter is Brotherhood?’ he asks, trying to quell the sudden surge of hate. She's just a child you haven't met yet.
“Back east she is. But at Forlorn Hope, they said one of her traveling companions is a Brotherhood scribe, remember?”
“Yeah,” he answers slowly. The truth is, he doesn’t, but he’ll be damned before he lets James know that. Hazy memories are better than no memories, and he doesn’t want James to worry about him any more than he already does. James nods to himself, and Israel watches an old woman exit from her room to smoke a cigarette, leaning over the railing as she watches the smoke drift up to blend into the fading Mojave sky.
no subject
Date: 2011-12-23 02:22 am (UTC)“Hey, Ms. Whitman,” the cowgirl greets, and Israel freezes. She looks at him, and he at her, and he expects her eyes to light up with a weary sort of recognition. But she pays him no mind, waving to the two young women, and goes back to smoking. He remembers her, can see her youthful figure hidden by the shell of the old crone she has become.
She used to be a hell of a pilot, flying the vertibird like she was a part of it. He wonders how she’s survived this long. He should go talk to her, and he sees that sentiment echoed in James’ face. James nudges him, and his feet move of his own accord. One step. Then two. Oh God. He doesn’t want to do this. Soon, he is standing next to her, watching the sunset. She eyes him suspiciously, and he wants to run away from her, away from the Mojave Wasteland, where NCR waits like a starving dog in the west.
“Can I help you, stranger?” she asks. He should say something, anything, but finds his voice locked in his throat. She steps away from him, back into her room, and her eyes never leave his until her door shuts.
“You shouldn’t smoke, Whitman,” he murmurs, the scolding coming to his lips naturally even though he hasn’t said it for decades. “You’ll die early. Your country needs you.”
“Live fast, die young, and leave a good looking corpse,” he hears her voice reply, carried by the winds of the memories he struggles to hold on to.
no subject
Date: 2011-12-23 12:25 pm (UTC)Keep Your Composure 18/?
Date: 2011-12-24 09:47 pm (UTC)“We need to talk.” She wordlessly motions for him to sit in the empty seat next to her, and he walks past Boone, who is slumped over her bed and reaching for her hand in his sleep, and Raul, who is slumped against the wall next to him. With a deep breath, he sits down, and finds his voice.
“How dare you,” he says, and feels cheated when she doesn’t wince. “You knew.”
“I told you I was dying,” she says. “I didn’t think I had to go into any more detail than that.”
“How long?” he demands.
“About a year after it happened.”
“After what happened, Catherine?” She does wince at that, and he still feels cheated because he isn’t as satisfied with it as he thought he would be.
“Don’t call me that,” she murmurs.
“What? Catherine? That’s your name, isn’t it? It’s the only thing we know about you other than the fact that you’re a dead woman walking, and you didn’t even have the fucking decency to tell us how bad it really was!”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. He sighs, rubbing his temples.
“So am I.” She takes a deep breath, and he thinks that is the end of their conversation. He moves to stand, and she says,
“Please continue to call me Courier, Arcade.”
“Why?” he asks dully. “I don’t see any reason to continue this charade.”
“It’s the only name that has ever been mine,” she answers, smiling wryly. “I have my father’s last name, and the names of the two people he loved more than anything else in the world. Two people I have never even met.”
“Oh? So, what’s your full name, Rumpelstiltskin?” She takes a deep breath, and he isn’t sure she is going to answer him. But she does.
“Neil. Catherine Israel Neil.”
Re: Keep Your Composure 18/?
Date: 2011-12-25 05:18 am (UTC)Re: Keep Your Composure 18/?
Date: 2012-01-03 11:28 am (UTC)I'm going to die.
I swear.
I'll die.
If any of these things happening:
-Arcade meets Israel.
-Israel gives up the ghost and has his very slow, careful way with -James because Christ they are getting old, aren't they.
-Boone meets Charon. And Charon approves of Boone, but Boone struggles with the idea that he might be Courier's substitute for him.
I mean Christing hell if Rex met Dogmeat I'd probably wee a little but that's just me and crossovers DDD:
Keep Your Composure 19/?
Date: 2012-01-31 12:33 am (UTC)“Look, daddy!” she says, plopping a black fedora on her head. “I’m Sam Spade!” He smiles, and he swears he can see her ghoul body guard smile almost indulgently.
He shakes his head, and finds his voice.
“Whose room is this?” he asks. Cass and Veronica look at him warily before answering.
“A friend’s,” Veronica answers finally, while Cass busies herself with pouring the drinks. Israel sits in one of the decrepit chairs, his bones aching and joints popping. He looks lost, and James feels a jagged pain shoot through him. Israel has never looked lost in the entire time he has known him, and he finds himself frightened. Veronica moves over to help Cass, and James moves to sit by Israel’s feet.
“You can sit up here,” Israel grunts, but James doesn’t say anything, instead removing Israel’s shoes. “Don’t do that. My feet are filthy.”
“They also must be killing you,” he replies, rubbing the arch with his thumbs. Israel stifles a groan of appreciation.
“What are you doing?” Veronica leans over to whisper in Cass’ ear. “We don’t even know these men.” Cass tops off one of the glasses, and hands it to Veronica.
“Courier taught me to make friends,” she says simply. “Look at them. The sadness practically rolls off of them. The least we can do is make them a drink,” she says, taking a deep swig of whiskey. “Take these to them, will ya, sweetheart?” Veronica nods, and numbly hands the men their drinks. The ghoul, James, smiles and thanks her. He pinches Israel’s calf, and the man grumbles out a ‘thank you’ before taking a swig. Veronica watches his throat muscles clench, and hears James ask,
“So, what brings the two of you out to Novac?” His voice is slightly strained, like he is trying to weasel some sort of information out of them. Veronica shoots him a wary look.
“Our dog,” she answers quietly. “Rex. He’s a cyberdog that needs a new brain.” James tsks, and says,
“How unfortunate. Will he get better with the transplant?” Cass snorts, pouring him another glass before he’s even finished his first one.
“He sure will. Can’t say the same for her though.” Veronica elbows her sharply, and she yelps. “What?”
“Can’t say the same for who?” James asks, and feels the cold steel of a powerfist press against his face. Israel growls, aiming his plasma rifle at her and Cass emits a loud,
“Whoa, whoa you son of a bitch!” Cass pulls her gun out, and gives Veronica a troubled look.
“You’ve been awfully interested in us,” Veronica says. “Why? Who are you working for?” James opens his mouth.
“No one.”
“I doubt it. You know what? I don’t even want to know. Get out. You’re not getting Courier.”
Keep Your Composure 20/?
Date: 2012-02-04 02:58 am (UTC)“I know,” James says softly. “Thank you for staying your hand. She was just frightened.” At this, Israel harrumphs. “It looks like this Courier has made some enemies.”
“And it looks like some of her friends are ours,” Israel grumbles.
“Veronica, please,” James begs, his voice desperate and urgent. “I think Courier may be-“
“No!” she says hollowly, leading him out of the door. “You don’t know what Courier is. You don’t know anything.”
Remembering the desperate tone James used makes Israel’s heart ache, and he claps James on the shoulder.
“You’re shit at talking your way into and out of things. I’m surprised you got into that vault at all.” This brings the smile back to James’ face, and Israel has never been more happy to see anything since this whole affair began.
“Luck was in my favor then. They needed a doctor,” he says. “After I left, my luck seemed to run out. Especially where my daughter was concerned.”
“We’ll find her,” Israel says awkwardly. “We will.” James smiles, and it’s the same tired smile that Israel loved. It’s a smile he can still make out through the ruined crevices of James’ face.
“Of course we will,” he says, his voice thick with hollow determination. “We have to.”
There is no other alternative.
Re: Keep Your Composure 20/?
Date: 2012-02-07 10:43 am (UTC)I love this. I love the interactions between James and Israel, and I love the way that you've written Veronica.