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.

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No, no. Neil's not turning beet-red. He doesn't even know what beets are.

"...Yeah," he admits with a mutter.

Alex exhales loudly, something shifting in his chest. "God damn," he says. "You're a really good person, do you know that? Not a fucking brat or a kid or anything of the sort. You're just a sincerely kind and caring guy."

Wait.

Neil stares and stares and just fucking stares, his expression stuck firmly in disbelief. "Kind and caring, wha--" He blinks. "No? Absolutely not?"

"Stop being an ass and just accept it." He sits up finally, leans close to Neil. Then raises a hand to press a finger against Neil's nose.

"I can only tell the truth, remember? And it's fucking clear as day that you've always tried to do what's right. All of it."

"I'm trying not to be an ass," Neil insists, knowing full well this very response proves Alex's point, "but you know that me treating you nicely doesn't mean that behavior extends to everything else. I mean, you even pointed out that I have a sociopath's tendencies."

"Yeah, you do," he answers easily. "You tend toward self-centeredness and destruction. The difference is, Neil--"

He rests a hand on Neil's thigh, casual, without heat. Only wanting contact.

"The difference is that you want to do right. Do stuff that's good. You want to be someone that helps people."

Neil flushes darkly at the contact, at the words being uttered without reticence, but it's kinda funny. Pretty damn hilarious, actually, that the reaction exists for an entirely unexpected source.

"Want to. I mean," he starts, voice subdued, "why wouldn't I want to? I'm worth nothing without that." Helping others.

He keeps his hand on his thigh, solid and firm, and watches Neil speak, expression gentling. "There's a lot of reasons not to want to. A lot of people choose not to do a thing for another person. You especially, where you came from... No one would blame you at all for not giving a fuck. But you do. Want to make things right. Make things better. Because you think that you're nothing despite being someone who has a lot of value in my eyes."

He pauses the monologue, shrugging. "...But more than anything, I know how hard it is to take that kind of thing as truth. I get it, and I'm not going to try to force you to accept that. My point is, just-- Like I said back in the east. Whatever your reasons, selfish or selfless, you're helping people. You're helping me. And that matters, more than the reasons why. You're kind. You care. And you're starting to take care of me, too," he adds, a small smile edging in.

No one would blame him, but they have. He has every single reason to give a flying fuck because Alex Seattle Geer has the reasoning correct. There isn't much value to Neil Park without his inability to not fix something--people, places, things, and scenarios. There isn't much value to Neil Park at all.

So hearing this other guy find something worthwhile in him causes his chest to shift, even as the added pressure proves disquieting. Neil leans forward, forehead coming to rest against Alex's shoulder.

"I'm helping you," he murmurs quietly, "and that's all that matters to me. I don't want to waste time figuring out if that makes me good or not."

Neil curls forward, and Alex moves his arm up to wrap around his shoulders instead. "Good," he says, smile in tone. "This ain't no kind of world for worrying about good or bad. Just to do what's right for a moment, and hopefully not fuck up things worse than they are."

He leans his head against Neil's, ready to shift the subject for the time being. "Besides. If you're honestly willing to help me, you can help me with the Big MT. Science heaven--or hell--with a bunch of never seen before experiments that can either wipe the Americana west off the map or make the Mojave better than a GECK would."

No, this isn't the kind of world, and that thought is good enough for him. Good enough, at least, to cheer up a depressed guy. And that's not even taking the science into account.

"Big MT, huh?" Neil peers up from the other man's shoulder, curiosity touching his voice. "Aside from making people into cyborgs, what else do they do?"

Alex makes a face between exasperation and affection. "Try Pre-War scientists responsible for a lot of the bad in the old world in the way of children playing with things they shouldn't. And then they had the great idea to put their brains in jars to keep doing experiments. Which had the fun side effect of separating their humanity."

He sighs out; breathes. "So basically the only thing keeping them from wiping out the west is that there's a lock on their memory so they don't know the rest of the world is out there. That, and they somehow have a respect for me. A weird, weird respect."

Pre-War scientists with the resources available to do whatever the hell they want are a perfect recipe for disaster. Somehow, Neil has a sneaking feeling that he'd recognize most (if not all) the "bad" they've committed. Especially the brains in jars.

He mulls over the last statement. "How do they explain you?" asks Neil. "You're part of that world they're not supposed to know about."

He leans his head against Neil's for a moment, then pulls to straighten somewhat. "It was... a mess at the beginning. I was just another brainless idiot running around to them. Or something of a porno actor...."

Dala.

"After all that mess was cleared up, though, it was basically that, uh. They accepted me as part of their world because I, um. Am maybe recognized as the owner of the Big MT now."

Yeah. Neil can't help the staring now.

"So," he begins casually. "I'm noticing you have a habit of taking ownership of large, untamed, and likely dangerous places."

Alex sputters, then presses his face into Neil's shoulder. "I didn't take control of the Sierra Madre...."

He didn't take control of the Sierra Madre. Alex actually said that in the same tone as a Capital Wastelander might say, "Well, I didn't eat my irradiated shit this time!"

"Yeah," Neil replies, hands resting on the other man's back. "That's 'cause you don't have a death wish."

Yeah, he'd like to say. He's smarter than that.

But what comes out is... "Well, someone already claimed it as theirs by the end of things. I didn't really get the chance-- Fuck my life."

Of course, Neil isn't the least bit surprised.

"Who?" he asks.

The minute tensing isn't something Alex is aware of. His fingers reach to touch Neil's back.

Christine, he thinks.
My sister, he thinks.
Veronica's....

"Christine Royce," he answers. "You probably heard me mention her at the memorial. She was hunting Elijah on orders from the higher up BoS. And because he took what was most precious from her."

The changes are easy to detect. The memory hardly takes effort to recall, especially that protective voice spoken with quiet pride. Neil has no want to dig deeper because these things speak for themselves.

"You wish she hadn't?" Stayed, that is.

He thinks, deeply and quietly. Comes to his own conclusions that he would share. "I don't," he answers. "I wish she had come with me. But she had nothing to leave for," he goes on. "She thought there wasn't anything left for her.

"So at least," he continues. "She's able to protect something that needs her."

Nothing to leave for. Nothing else. He ain't going to be an asshole and question further.

"I get it," Neil murmurs. "It's probably something decent to do." Than waste your time in a world that didn't need you.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Alex leans back to kiss Neil. Demanding and hard. "You, though...."

He presses his forehead against Neil's. "You better not ever stay anywhere but by my side."

Alex kisses him, as though seeking out a truth, and Neil thinks to tell him that the gesture is unnecessary. That there would now always be the truth that's living at the forefront of his existence.

With another's forehead against his own, Neil reaches with a hand to touch off-white hair. "There is nowhere else," he says, "I'd rather be than here. Right here."

With Alex.

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doubletap - 2017-03-20 00:37 (UTC) - Expand

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