abstracts | the story in which Alex Seattle Geer is right for hating enclosed spaces,

Entry tags:

fallout

the story in which Alex Seattle Geer is right for hating enclosed spaces,

and Neil Park is blamed for his knowledge of vaults.

Terminal Entries:

1st Floor, Vault Entry-Room Computer:
- Data Entry 1: Year 20XX, Month XX; There's no escape.
- Holotape Entry 1: Y#4@ SDhig^8705 H98 [data corrupted]; This is hell and I want out of it.

1st Floor, Cafeteria Luncheon:
- Holotape Entry 2: Private Recording; I've had better?

1st Floor, Cafeteria Supply Room:
- Inventory List: Inventory List; A list of food....
- Data Entry 2: Shift Notes; Maybe I should tear the walls down.

1st Floor, Broken Cave:
- Data Entry 3: Preparations; Everything's fine.
- Data Entry 4: Near the End; I'll tell you the truth, but I won't give up my soul.
- Data Entry 5: Finally, the End is at Hand.; This is far enough.

1st Floor, Office:
- Data Entry 6: Vault-Wide Public Service Announcement; Get back to work everyone.
- Data Entry 7: Locked Administrative Reply; You're reaching for straws.

1st Floor, Administrative Secretary's Office:
- Data Entry 8: Drama Hoes; It is sort of funny that people aren't able to lie, though.
- Holotape Entry 3: Bill Self-Log; Byron's access still works everywhere.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

If I was looking at myself, I would say that I'm not healthy enough to be in a relationship.

[ It comes out, all truth and harsh edges, and he sits up, stares at his hands in his lap. He thinks of Betsy, again, again, and hadn't realized how much of his identity had been set with how he dealt with her.

His voice is small. ]

...It's not you, Neil. I... I hate myself. Everything about me. And eve--everything that matters-- When you came to the Mojave, I had spent the last six months packing it away. Hiding from everything. Even the guys at the 38, I hadn't talked to them in....

[ He trails off. Swallows. ]

Neil, all that I am is the Mojave and what happened in it. When I got shot... I can't remember a thing. I know facts. Details. Know what I like and don't like. But I can't tell you--

[ "How am I supposed to know you if I don't know where you come from?" ]

--where I came from. I can't tell you the kind of person I was. It's me, but it's not, and I don't know... If I should have just died instead. Instead of all that happened by my hands in that desert.

[ And the Divide. ]

Edited 2016-11-08 07:07 (UTC)

[Harsh edges, yes, but it is the plain and simple truth. Neither of them are healthy enough to be in a relationship. They never should have been together in that sense.

There is more. There is much more. Funny how discovering Alex's hair color leads to all of this. This--

Hatred of self.

Absence of memory.

Lack of a sense of self.

Neil inhales. His eyes are burning. There are probably words to say, but nothing comes to mind.

No, he turns on his heels to walk toward Alex, to carefully wrap his arms around the man from behind.]

[ Neil walks toward him, and Alex doesn't know what to expect. He wants anger, rage, but knows Neil is too kind for that. Wonders if he will crouch in front of him and stare; ask questions Alex will have to answer.

But as always, per usual, Neil exceeds his expectations.

From behind, Neil's arms wrap around him, and he exhales like something was taken off his shoulders. His hands come up to hold Neil's arms, and he turns his head to press his face into Neil's neck and cheek. It's vulnerable. And obvious. And none of that manly crap that he likes to hold to.

But instead of rejecting him or being angry, Neil is holding him, and Alex just wants to stay like this. ]

...You make me feel safe.

[Neil expects rejection. He doesn't know why when Alex has never rejected him since their meeting. Perhaps it's old habits. Perhaps it doesn't matter.

Alex matters, though. And in the end, that is all that matters, no?

Neil's arms tighten around the older man, tears silently falling.]

Past, present, future, or none of the above-- Whether you hate or love yourself-- You're still Alex. Always driving me crazy.

[That existence Neil respects and loves.]

I just wanted to hear everything from you.

[ Neil holds him tighter, and Alex feels wet on the top of his face, but they have both cried in this damn fucking vault, and hell if another time will add to the count. He nuzzles in closer, quiet. ]

...If it's about things that were horrible, or things that I doubt... If it's about the stuff I still question or think I was wrong for... The things that keep me wondering over and over...

[ The things that make me human. ]

...The parts that make me shit. You want to hear all that?

[What a question.]

Yeah. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

[All the aspects that has Neil so enamored.]

People are people for those things, and I want to know you. I want you.

[ The words are perfect and cannot be doubted. Feelings change, but Neil has continued to only change in ways that become more. All of this is likely more than Alex can bear, and yet-- ]

...Even if I can't remember?

[ And-- ]

Even if I've made mistakes?

Memories and actions are fallible.

[And are subject to imperfections.]

Even then, I want you.

[Will continue to want this person.]

You're fucked up, but so am I. And you're my perfect kind of fucked up.

Shit.

[ It's a single flawed word, and it's thick with pain and regret and want and love and all of the messy pieces to a person's existence. Alex stretches a hand up, cups the other side of Neil's face, and presses in closer. Thinks that every time he knows what it means, knows what this means, a relationship with Neil Park, Neil redefines it once again.

They are under each other's skin, inside their bodies and hearts, and are intricately sewn into each other's stories. Each other's lives. ]

I really thought... you were going to push me away.

[It's wretched and emotional, but honestly, the descriptors hardly hold significance when they're close together like this. Neil leans his head against Alex's, still crying. Still a damn kid.

He breathes in, long and deep.]

The worst I was going to do was maybe whip you with that rag, but hell if I'll raise a hand against you when you're broken up about it. I wasn't going to reject you, regardless of your response.

[ He wasn't broken up. He wants to say that, but isn't able. But he is able to give Neil what he said he wanted. Alex brushes his hand over Neil's arm, speaking clearly. ]

So we probably got off to a bad start. I'm Alex Seattle Geer, and I've been the last two since I was eighteen. Alex is my only given name. Guessed at my birthday. Pretty much a cast-off person with all the trimming. My hair? Yeah, it used to be about that color. Dark brown, give or take on the day. When I got shot, I woke up with the gray-white. Didn't mind it at first. Made people know who I was unless I hid it.

And then that Dam.

That three-way battle. And the Legion were going to take too much, and the NCR did good but took too much away--didn't care like they needed, were stretched too thin. And House... Any personal feelings put aside, all he cared about was Vegas. Not the Mojave.

So I took steps. And we took it back from all of them. The 38 crew? Was the main people I worked with. Allied with a few other smaller groups. Got in Julie's debt forever. Put it all together, and there it was. A group that could take back their own independence, their own home.

And then I was something? Just because I took a mask off a damn Legate and told the NCR they weren't needed here. Killed House and Caesar, saved Kimball. Yeah, sure; I did those things, but I wasn't the one who brought the plane and the bombs, the vertibird and the power armor. I just helped. Just stepped in here and there, and then I was something. Something, when I told you in that damned locked shantyhouse that I felt like nothing. Couldn't even go get parts for ED-E without... people in my face, calling me all these names I couldn't take. So I tested, experimented.

[ He reaches a little, to pull a strand of his own hair. His fingers come away dark. ]

Coffee beans. Pinyon nuts. Those are the main things. I redye it every time I shower, more or less. Shower, shave, and dye, and I've gotten in the habit. Didn't even think about it anymore. It's been nice to be anonymous. Nice to hide, nice to forget. I feel like I'm going to have to stop doing that soon.

Edited 2016-11-15 17:28 (UTC)

[It's a story that's easier to follow than most. Easier because Alex strings the pieces together so well. Easier because where someone else would assume modesty on the part of the protagonist, Neil understands in part.

You had Legion, the NCR, and Robert House. You had the Mojave. You move and shift and adjust as necessary. You make the steps you think you should, and the world thinks--

He tightens his hold on Alex before loosening, letting his arms hang as they are.]

Why do you feel like that?

[ Neil shifts and moves, and Alex wonders if that's why he can breathe. These arms on him, in this stupid locked vault.

Why did he feel like that?

Alex shifts, so he can turn his head to look at Neil. ]

Because. I'm going to have to step up and start cleaning up after the mess I made. No one else is going to do it and it needs done. Just because there's no more contenders doesn't mean the Mojave is fine and dandy. People need restoration from the war, and I need to make sure people are safe. Healthy. That the raiders and fiends don't come back. Rebuild Boulder City. Nipton. Make it a place for people to live. To actually live. A place people are happy in. I'm not going to keep running away from that just because the weight on me got a little heavier.

[There are eyes on Neil, and he can't help looking back. Appearing miserable or no, he cannot turn away.]

If there's a guy who can do it, that would be you.

[Unlike others, who do not think of wanting people's happiness.]

[ Alex softens, smiles self-deprecatingly. ]

I'll probably fuck it up. Or ruin myself trying. Because I wouldn't want to make it fail.

[ Again, the dark of his heart whispers, and he keeps it keeps it keeps it. Shifts it to something he's been putting off saying. ]

Like I almost ruined things with you.

Maybe.

[Always a probability, as much as--]

Or maybe you'll get to where you want to go.

[And not die in the process.

Neil watches, watches, before hesitation pulls his eyes away to a wayward wall, to the projector nearby.]

I don't recall you almost ruining things.

[ It's such a hopeful sentiment from such a realist guy. Alex could smile, if not for the other topic. Neil looks to the side, and Alex finds that he is strangely comfortable with this admittance.

It fortifies things. Solidifies them in a way he can understand. For this subject, he lacks shame. It happened, and under any circumstances it would have happened that way. Unless they met differently, earlier, they would still come together as they had.

Alex reaches up, touches Neil's cheek to turn his face back to Alex--he kisses him, lingeringly, then smiles, the expression sad; at peace. ]

It was a Wednesday. You had been conscious a week, give or take. I liked you. I found you more interesting than anyone I could recall meeting. I wanted to touch you. To taste you. I wanted to hear more words from your lips, and find ways to keep you in the Mojave, keep you with me instead of going on to Cali. It was a Wednesday. Vegas had kicked your socks off. I was distracting you with alcohol, wide windows, debates about ammunition. And I kissed you because I liked you. Because you were cute and I wanted to.

But I shouldn't have slept with you like that. I should have waited and went at your pace. I should have gotten to know you, let you know me, and romanced you like I wish I could now. I should have waited to hear I love you before I heard the sounds you make in bed. I never thought about it. Never complicated it. Sex was sex was sex.

But you're different. You're always different. I should have held back. Been respectful. Because I might have lost you. Might have made you distrust me even more. Might have ruined any chances for anything. I love you. And I can't think of how my life would be without you.

[Alex offers a kiss and some words. A lot of words, all unexpected and far too new.

It was a Wednesday, as he says. The Mojave Wasteland was a novel prospect. The Strip shattered his brain. Too many lights, too many sounds, too much of that "Old World" getup, and a man from a dying land couldn't handle this shit show. Alex distracted successfully, and the rest...

The rest, as they say, is history.

With his face so close to Alex's, Neil looks pained, something churning uncomfortably in his chest.]

Did think about leaving. A lot. Did consider walking away with Dogmeat, hopefully meet my end in California. You were being too kind without explanation, generous without wanting reimbursement, and when you started making moves, thought for sure you had to have questionable intent. Couldn't help it, you know. Never had friends, never had lovers, and suddenly, out of nowhere, here's a guy.

I stayed, though. I just couldn't get enough of it: someone caring about me. Someone wanting my company for its sake. Yeah, I was lonely. Maybe starving for real attention. And those two and a half weeks on that caravan made me fucking sick to realize how attached I'd gotten. And how much of that attachment turned into love.

[Threatening to drown him, pull him into the deep. Neil shivers, wondering at the source.]

Mistakes were made by both of us. It happens, especially to two guys new to relationships. Nothing to do now but to move on. Start over.

[ Start over sits thick and toxic in his chest, and he can't say why it rings wrong. There's other things to say, touch, and when Neil looks pained, Alex looks the opposite--sideways. Sad and resigned and something more.

He would doubt it, but this place won't let him. Instead he speaks without heat. ]

...What the fuck. You couldn't get enough of it? I sincerely didn't think for a minute that you liked me. Not in Vegas, not traveling to the Capital. I thought it was only after staying in the memorial--

[ And he means to stop, but his throat won't let him. ]

--And only because I was there when you needed help.

[Here, Neil would laugh, mirthless and biting. Full of self-hatred. He releases Alex and straightens to a stand.]

Never had friends, never had lovers.

[A repeat. There is a point and a purpose.]

Never knew how to show affection. Lived too long guarding against people. Using them. Hating them. It was the only way I could think to respond to you. Doesn't excuse it or make it right. But that's why.

[He inhales sharply, stale air filling his lungs.]

I once read boys sometimes bully the girls they like. Push them into the mud in hopes of continuing interaction. Guess I'm basically that little cocksucker.

[ There's things to mention, more to say, but something is nearly shy in his chest, and when Neil moves away from him, it lets him turn to habits.

He thinks he won't be able to say the words, because they are a joke, as always, but it turns out he wants more than he knows.

The tone is familiar, full of innuendo and want. ]

I wish you would sometimes.

[An eyebrow raises toward the ceiling.]

I would what?

[ Ah and here is the trap. Alex grabs for his own mouth, but the words come out clearly behind the flesh of his fingers. ]

Put my cock down your throat.

[A beat of silence passes as Neil processes that nugget of gold.

Finally, he cants his head.]

Well, tell me when and where, and I could make that happen for you.

[ Alex whimpers, hard at once at the offer, and leans forward--elbows on his knees, head in his hands. ]

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