the tower.

[shortstraw]

It started in Novac, in that lovely Dino Dee-Lite Motel by the dilapidated gas station.

He had told her they could be found in the upper corner room, living the Post-War American dream. If not there, they had others: cabins, bunkers, safehouses, and the like. He gave her all the map points, confident in their future whereabouts. And above all, he was certain they would never be in the New Vegas, beneath the bright lights of the Strip.

The motel room had been empty. The Brotherhood safehouse and the cabin by Jacobstown also held no occupants. After traveling nearly the entire width of the Mojave Wasteland, moving from town to fucking town, she finally caught a whiff of him in Freeside.

The crier for Mick & Ralph's had seen a man matching Alex Seattle Geer's description lately, headed directly into the heavily guarded gates of the New Vegas Strip.

Judas, Sarah had thought. Blood betrayer. She then walked the road back to the Dino Dee-Lite Motel, to that cozy little upper room in the corner, and left Alex a very nice surprise.

Three days later, after finding the presidential suite of the Tops woefully empty, Sarah corners a man in the streets. Their exchange proves short, and with his pockets noticeably heavier, the guy walks the short distance to the center of the road. There, with the Vault Dweller looking on, he straightens to attention and produces a piece of paper from his pockets.

"Ladies and gentleman of New Vegas, may I have your attention please?" he reads, voice clear to the nearby bystanders and vigilant Securitrons. "It is my absolute pleasure to introduce to you a Very Important Person--" The man looks over his shoulder briefly, a quizzical look on his face. "Why is it capitalized?" he asks.

"Go on," she mouths, waving lazily at the gathering crowd.

He shrugs and continues as directed. "Someone who has traveled a great distance and sacrificed a good deal of time, bullets, and money to be here with you fine folks. She is the Champion of the Holy Thirteen, the Swan Song of the Master and His Most Unholy Unity, the Keeper of All Your Dogs, a Sometimes Friend to You and I... I present to you: The Vault Dweller!"

Comments

[shortstraw]

Inside the Lucky 38 is an empty casino, slot machines and card tables set up as though they were expecting guests. Of course, with a Pre-War gent like Robert House, there's probably more to the building than dust-covered gambling devices. She watches in silence, only attempting speech when Alex gives away one important detail.

The lack of Neil Park, his second cousin and her other great-grandchild. The reaction given in light of that detail. Where most would miss the discrepancy, Sarah does not. She's just going to fold on her chance for specifics until a better opportunity arises.

On the floor, the woman carefully removes her hood and mask, finding the stale air quite comfortable. "Is there a safe full of sandwiches in the cashier's office?" she asks, her voice neutral. An obvious tell that she will refer back to Alex's answer at another point in their day.

[doubletap]

She doesn't take him up on his offer so he gives in to his want instead. She takes off her mask, and he reaches to hold her instead, hugging her to his chest, his head resting on his own. He steps toward the elevator. "There's sandwiches in the kitchen," he replies. "And Neil is out exploring. Probably to the south."

Goodsprings is comforting to the kid, and the area around it. It's wholesome and home like, even without the friends he had made. "His dog died," Alex speaks, as the door opens with a ding. "It's tearing him up."

[shortstraw]

Whatever thoughts of rejection in the Strip dissipates at Alex taking her into his arms, pressing her close to him. They move toward the elevator, and the man utters the basic truth of matters, and it's almost too late when Sarah notices the thickness forming in her throat.

She swallows, pushing the weight away. "Damn, Neil," she says quietly, as if addressing the child not present. Her dark eyes move upward to catch Alex's face. "What happened?"

[doubletap]

There's only one place he likes in this gilded tower, because you can see for miles. He would like the penthouse. It's gorgeous, open, everything he could want, but he's only now getting over it, that it was House's place, his room, and he wouldn't take her there if they weren't talking about Neil, because that bar was him and Neil's spot in his mind, the first place they touched.

So he takes her to the penthouse, to Robert House's perfectly made home. The windows aren't as open as the bar, but if you go up to them, where computers and furniture isn't in the way, you can still see for miles, and the view is so fucking worth it, and he knows she will love it. The elevator dings at the spot, and he lets her down again. "...He was old," Alex says quietly. "Died in his sleep. Neil wasn't there for it."

[shortstraw]

They reach their destination, to what Sarah Marks presumes to be the crème de la crème of an American dynasty. And for the most part, she would be correct. There are grimy windows with white light streaming in, decor she doesn't snort at, and if not for that monstrosity blocking one part, it would be a place of never-ending sunlight during a clear day. A perfect place for a person such as herself.

She can't enjoy it, however, not with the subject at hand. She steps toward the railing, going on her tip toes to rest her elbows on the metal. "...I'm surprised you're not with him," she gives. "Guessing he said he needed to be alone for a spell."

[doubletap]

Alex laughs a beat, almost bitter. "I think I was driving him crazy," he addresses the large computer, dead and off, in the next room. "Told me to stop following, to give him a minute to breathe."

And that was four days ago. The lack presses against his throat.

"Don't know how to handle loss," Alex says to Sarah, as he wouldn't to another. "Not my own and not another's. Never did."

[shortstraw]

Sarah doesn't move from where she stands, allowing the child to have his say.

When he finishes it off with a confession, she steps back, boots tapping smartly on the floor. The woman turns to watch him, the muscles on her face pulling to offer a toothy grin.

"Loss isn't meant to be handled," she tells him. "It's meant to run its course." And ruin everyone's lives. "But you're no fool for not wanting to leave him alone."

[doubletap]

He follows the line of thought with his own--that loss just ruins lives. He twists his lips, staring at the scene, before shifting his eyes to her. "Why do you think?"

[shortstraw]

Her grin drops, and it's an old expression that looks back at the young thing called the Courier. "You've felt that emptiness, haven't you?" That gaping hole that comes from loss. "Eventually, something will find its way in and fill what's missing."

A person, a place, or a thing--you name it, it'll eat up that space. "Better you than the alternatives."

[doubletap]

For some reason, the answer balances him. He shifts to face her, leaning a hip against the railing, arms crossed. "My kid isn't going to get old and die," he says of ED-E. "Neil's did. Not sure how to go there without seeming like... 'Look what I have that you don't'?"

He sighs, scratching through his hair. "Something like that."

[shortstraw]

Alex presents the eyebot as a reason. An explanation. Her expression loosens, and she presses her back to the railing. "See, sweetheart," she says evenly, "I don't think Neil's bemoaning the fact that your kid's unstoppable. Besides, he has a bond with ED-E. You really think he's that dumb?"

[doubletap]

"Not dumb, just--"

Alex trails off, rolling his eyes. "No, it's just me not knowing what to do here. Haven't been yelled at for being obnoxious in a while with him. Don't know what's best right now."

[shortstraw]

Sarah smirks, dark eyes peering upward. "Misdirection," the woman states. "Better to push you away than share his grief. Come on, Alex. That's Psychology 101 material right there."

[doubletap]

He keeps to light, tries to, but his eyes shadow. "...Didn't know if he'd rather not have me at the moment."

[shortstraw]

Her eyes stay, watching. "Who are you to Neil?"

[doubletap]

His eyes crinkle with self-depreciation. He knows where this is going. "His partner."

Another word hovers at the edge of his lips.

[shortstraw]

"His partner," she echoes, reverence lingering on her tongue. "Shall I spell it out for you, Courier?"

Or has he decided to be the smart kid that he is?

[doubletap]

His mouth moves to a thin smile. "Maybe I like hearing you speak, Vault Dweller."

[shortstraw]

He's sad. Let the benevolent Vault Dweller cut him some slack by not literally spelling out the words.

"Well," Sarah begins, "when a man loves another man very much and shit hits the proverbial fan, there is nowhere else that man would want his partner to be than right there beside him." A pause. "Even if the man pitches a bitch-fit."

[doubletap]

He watches her for a moment, then lifts an eyebrow. "Even if that partner is entertaining his mom who came so far to visit?"

[shortstraw]

She mimics him, eyebrow shooting up. "You telling me he's dating a mama's boy?"

[doubletap]

Here, he smiles, real and genuine. "Not quite. Took me a long time to find my mom. We have a lot of ground to catch up on."

[shortstraw]

It takes her aback, each and every time. Mom. My mom.

Good thing she's perfected the art of bluffing. Sarah Marks smiles smoothly, the expression touching her eyes. "Such a darling son I found," she gives. "Never mind that he's boning my other son."

Alex and Neil. Two kids she stumbled onto along the long road to nowhere. "We do," is the continuance. "Which is why I'm here."

[doubletap]

"Or your little brother," he replies without a beat delay. "Which sounds worse to passerbyers?"

He reaches out, though, to squeeze her shoulder. "Thanks for coming, lady. Sorry about the welcome. I'll recode them for next time."

[shortstraw]

The correction has her smirking with teeth. "My baby boy tarnishing my baby brother," she speaks. "That's like 'appropriate for all audiences' in the Wastes, kid." Need worse material.

A hand grasping her shoulder, though. That she can accept. "Don't worry your pretty little head about your roller bots," says Sarah. "My only problem was that you told me--guaranteed, in fact--that you could never be in the Strip. And here you are, in the damn Strip."