abstracts | the pier.

Entry tags:

fallout

the pier.

Let him just say it now--the kid had a lot of problems.

I mean, not really a surprise or anything--Alex had found him dried out in a desert, for crying out loud--but god damn.

Let’s recap.

Alex Seattle Geer found himself in love with a Vault brat from the Capital Wasteland with a daddy complex the size of Hoover Dam. Said kid loves him back--sometimes. Said kid would probably rather put ~~another~~ bullet between Alex’s eyes rather than spend time with him, and didn’t this just go to show it. Neil leaves to check up a rumor, said he’d be back shortly--shortly became two days and by then Dogmeat was back, meaning Neil took off somewhere he was worried the dog would get hurt at. Two days turn into two weeks and counting, and by then, Alex has tracked Neil’s steps, found the fucking pier, the fucking tool of a woman looking for her child, and all of the pieces are too easily placed.

Neil left for Point Lookout. And Alex, ED-E, and Dogmeat are left hanging in the wind.

Alex has been fucking camping on the dirty sand and shit next to that pier, waiting for that stupid kid to come back on that stupid ferry the woman told him about. Tobar the fucking Ferryman, and Alex feels like shooting the asshole just for submitting to Neil’s request. Probably not the guy’s fault, but-- Hell. Yeah. He didn’t traipse all over the goddamn country just to be left in the dust. Is the kid even coming back? Who fucking knows.

Alex will just.

Wait here.

Until Neil comes back.

Yeah, that’s not pathetic at all.

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"I know," he answers. "I know that now. I honestly don't know why I even--"

Brought it up. Except he does. The question Neil had asked--this was the answer. "...No," he says, after a pause. "It doesn't seem like you care usually. And that's fine. I'm fine with it. It's just surprising when you--" Show that you do.

Alex shakes his head slightly. "Surprising when you do."

There's a sadness that touches Neil's eyes, that creeps into the space behind them. He swallows before speaking, wondering if his words would even make any sense. "I'm no good with care," he says, almost stumbling. "Not really familiar with it. I know that's no excuse; just wanted to explain why I have trouble showing it."

"You don't have to show it," he replies, nearly automatic. "I'm not asking for it from you. Don't feel like you have to."

I want to.

The thought strikes him, cold and sharp against his nerves. A new kind of pain blossoms in his head, beneath his once open skull, and Neil looks away. To the ceiling, to the wall-- It doesn't matter.

Neil may want to, but it seems his care may not have a place. Maybe it's too late. Maybe Alex just isn't the type. The reason is insignificant.

The hand cupping Neil's head pets lightly toward the end of strands. "...Hey," he intones softly. "It's a weird subject to talk about right now. Don't worry about it, okay?"

Maybe Neil has trouble showing care, but Alex has trouble accepting it. And really... Honestly, this isn't the time or place. Not like this. Not right now.

"What about your questions?" he asks. "Bored of my tall tale already?"

Neil blinks hard at the assurance and the subsequent questions. His mind a wreck, the young man reaches for the easiest answer, the simplest explanation for everything without giving himself completely away.

"I have more," he begins, still looking at a place that isn't Alex, "but do you have any more Med-X? My head's starting to be a little annoying."

Much like the subject of Frisco and the groups that lived there, this subject begins to dwindle to the call of pain. Alex... he doesn't really mind.

"I'll have to get up then, kid," he mentions. "You should probably have more anyway. But I think your fever might have broke. Or lowered at least," he says, running his hand against Neil's chest. "You don't feel so hot anymore."

Without further prompting, Neil carefully rises to sit up in bed, leaving enough room for the other to get out. He manages to tolerate the severe vertigo that comes after, mostly by closing his eyes and breathing.

Alex's comment regarding his temperature, therefore, comes as a better surprise than it would have been. "Guess that 'exercise' did something," Neil comments, almost offhand. "Maybe I can starting walking around tomorrow."

Alex had been going to help him sit up, and he doesn't miss Neil's eyes closing from the effort. Alex slides out, then swings an arm around Neil's shoulders to lower him down more slowly. "...Ask me for help," he mutters, then gives a displeased expression. "Two days of bedrest is what I told you. Listen to your fake doctor."

He passes on the exercise comment. And maybe that's more telling than most, Alex Seattle Geer passing up a chance to make a comment about sex.

The help can't be, well, helped. Neil would have flopped down on the bed without Alex's arm, and that would have been quite messy. The younger opens his eyes and grins despite himself, despite the pain pulsing in his skull and tightening in his chest.

It widens when Alex misses an obvious cue, reminding Neil of the moment before everything fell apart when they went to visit President Dave and his ill-gotten Republic. "You missed your chance," he says lightly, "but I guess things aren't that funny anymore. And don't fret. I'll keep to your plan, Doctor."

Alex rolls his eyes at Neil's remarks, despite the fact that he's entirely pleased by the way Neil is acting. Wanting to ruffle his hair but holding off for the obvious reasons, Alex settles for reaching to lightly pinch Neil's cheek. "Call me Doctor again and we'll see what's funny," he says teasingly.

He moves to the half-filled bags, dragging out a couple of more Med-X, then after looking at the pile of meds and chems, rummages around. "Aha..." he murmurs, finding one of the alcohol Fixers. Maybe lessening one of Neil's addictions would make things a little better since he's probably feeling the affects. Which reminds him....

He eyes the bag the girl gave him with distrust, but eventually goes to open it, pulling out a fruit.

However gentle his gesture, Alex's two fingers are akin to the hot tongs from hell fire to Neil's skin. Regardless, Neil gives no objections, settling instead for his coughing laughter. He eventually quiets, turning again to look at the ceiling.

It isn't until Alex begins rummaging through their items that Neil glances over, in time to catch a familiar fruit in the older man's hand. "Where did you get that punga fruit?" he asks, curious.

"From a girl who hates me," Alex answers, sitting on the bed with his armful of supplies. Two injection of Med-X are given without prelude to Neil's bare thigh--he remembers shooting two directly into Neil's neck and shivers at the recall, he can't imagine doing that now to be honest. The tin of Fixer is opened to show only a couple of doses remaining. Alex pulls out one of the dissolvable strips and holds it to Neil's mouth, intending to put it inside once the kid opens his mouth.

"You got a good friend there," he adds, staring at the fruit. "She was about ready to jump off that boat and kick the tar out of me for roughing you up."

Neil takes the injections and opens his mouth without complaint, saving any comments for when Alex mentions Nadine.

"Huh," gives Neil somewhat awkwardly. "Wouldn't say she's a friend as much as a...fellow sucker? We were tricked into going on the same out-of-your-head experience. Guess that does give us a connection." Of sorts. Of terrible, terrible sorts.

He smiles, the expression strained and flat. "Would you have let her?"

Evenly, without emotion, Alex comments, "She seems to have taken it better." That "out of head" experience. The girl seemed basically normal. Not ready to keel over.

The question Neil asks is both interesting and poignant. Alex smiles slightly, something sad in the expression. "Can't say I didn't deserve it."

"Nadine's got, uh, spirit," Neil states, as if stating mere facts. "Probably bounced back from sheer willpower. Plus, she does have a lot to lose if she keeled over." Such as a mother waiting for her desperately on that rickety pier. "We're kinda the exceptions. Most lose themselves in that experience."

Become a mere husk of their former selves.

The answer given surprises him, enough for Neil to look at Alex with concern. "Why do you say that?"

To Neil's question, Alex holds up a finger: Wait. Then the man looks up, and there's a dagger-edge expression in his eyes. "...I understood that the experience was shit," he says quietly, voice filled with threat. "Neither of you ever insinuated that there was a worse possibility that could have been likely."

Alex isn't asking questions. If one takes it at face value, there's nothing he's looking for. But the tension suddenly filling the air would say otherwise.

Oh. That reaction is no good. The subsequent tension is worse. Neil would slap a palm to his face if he was in the condition to do so.

It is, however, what it is. Neil might as well expand, regardless of the outcome. He watches Alex quietly, observing the emotion clouding the man's eyes. "After something like 'that,' most lose their brain functions," he starts. "Motor skills, cognitive reasoning, coherency-- The list goes on. A lot of them have to be babysat because they won't eat and sleep on their own. Others can't remember who they are, where they're from, or even their names. Hell, they can't even string two words together."

So yes. Neil and Nadine were the damn lucky ones.

There is an explanation. Understanding that there was a chance at real loss. If that would have happened to Neil--

Would Alex have kept him regardless? Made up for any inadequacies with his own? He can't... He can't answer that. And he doesn't want to.

He drops his head into a hand, leaning on his knee. His other hand seeks out Neil's own, squeezing painfully tight when he finds it. "That guy's dead, huh?" Alex finally says, and his voice sounds strange--choked. "I can't kill him again?"

...There is something painful. Something of loss unfolding before his eyes. Alex reaches for Neil's hand, grabbing tightly, and Neil wonders why this is becoming worse and worse. Every time the story of his time in the Sacred Bog (and with that man) is unveiled, Alex appears worse for wear.

Then Alex mentions the perpetrator. The ferryman Neil currently refuses to think of. The younger man swallows, and disquieted, he looks away.

"He's dead," he gives shakily. "He can't hurt anyone else anymore."

"He can't hurt anyone else anymore."

Alex turns his head on his hand to peer at Neil, and he's wearing an awful expression. Still he speaks, heartfelt, as he did in the medical room over a day ago. "I'm really glad you're all right. I'm glad you're the fucking exception."

He's glad. Alex is glad, and Neil believes he should be, too. That fate would have spelled the death of him, and truly, Neil exists as a creature who's set on living. Even if it seems sometimes that he seeks out an end.

Neil should be glad, but Alex wears a terrible face and Neil's mind is filled with terrible thoughts about a person who should be paste ground into the floorboards of the Duchess Gambit.

"Yeah," is all he can say. Neil closes his eyes, finding better solace in the dark.

As if he had been speaking a moment ago, as if nothing horrific had interrupted, Alex speaks, in that same thick tone. "I deserve it because of how I was treating you, for one."

There's... a few others.

Neil remains, eyes closed. Also, secretly glad for the quick transition.

"You were treating me fine," he gives, voice quiet. "I know I've said otherwise, but you didn't do anything wrong. I'm a dumb kid; of course, I should be treated like a dumb kid."

Alex snorts, and looks back down at his lap. He releases the death-hold on Neil's hand and instead reaches to pick up the fruit, offering it to Neil.

"I don't think grabbing you off your feet and basically shaking sense into you when anyone blind could see you're fucked up is fine, kid."

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