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]

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."

[doubletap]

"We don't go to the Strip unless necessary," he corrects. "It has the tendency to make Neil sick or offend his sensibilities. When I got dumped, I came here to get some work done."

He points a thumb over his shoulder at the supercomputer. "Raul can only do so much in this place."

[shortstraw]

To the explanation, she gives a whistle, low and sweet. "Delicate kid." Multiple instances of culture shock will do that to a person. "And you didn't get dumped. You got sent to the couch."

She turns to peer at the supercomputer, staring at the monstrosity with a face. "Who's Raul?"

[doubletap]

Alex snorts, then just continues to watch her. "One of the Lucky 38 crew. My repair guy and a mechanic gunslinger. Pre-War." Ghoul, of course, but that's nothing that needs to be rubbed in.

"He just had a shack east of here, so he's one of the few permanent residents."

[shortstraw]

Ghoul, of course. Sarah drapes her arms over the railing, watching the big blank screen like she's bored out of her skull. To those who know her well enough, it means the woman's listening.

"Nice upgrade," she replies. "Must be a pain in the neck to keep this place humming."

[doubletap]

"Yeah, well," he continues, only the edges of his voice touching the pain that comes from sacrifice. "I've been trying to run it without its main processor. And unless I can find a way to keep it steady, I'll probably need to hook myself in to keep it running."

[shortstraw]

Perhaps literal pain in the neck. Sarah leans over to bump Alex from the side. "That going to be a problem, chickadee?" Is this a passing gripe or something more serious beneath that tone of yours?

[doubletap]

He looks down at her, keeping eyecontact. "It will. Just not right now. I don't think using people as processors is a good stopgap."

[shortstraw]

"It's a shit stopgap," she agrees. "You're too fidgety, for one. That and trying to kiss a man hooked to a machine must be a special kinda hell."

There are things she does not say. Things that don't need to be said. Alex is a grown man; he can fill in the gaps.

[doubletap]

He can, and does. "Yeah. It's not a good enough reason to throw away something real. I'll find something else."

[shortstraw]

"Good." She breaks away from the railing, arms stretching upward. Old bones crack and pop at the gesture, alleviating phantom pains. It's nice to do so once in awhile. Makes for decent subject changes.

Her arms fall to their sides, and Sarah pivots fluidly to look fully at the guy before her. "So after you properly hug your snuggle buddy," she starts, briefly thinking of lonely little Neil, "you need to introduce me to your friends."

[doubletap]

His chest pangs at the mention of Neil, but he keeps his attention on her. "You want to meet them?" he asks with surprise.

[shortstraw]

"Of course." This Lucky 38 crew must hold something mighty special in Alex's heart if they, well, stuck with him for so long. Through so much. "Gotta make sure you didn't fall into the wrong kind of crowd."

Kidding, of course. This is all for sake of watching camaraderie. "Don't worry," she continues lightly. "Great-grandmama will try not to embarrass you. Too much."