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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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."

The release allows Neil to open his eyes, to again watch Alex. His expression becomes unfathomable.

"Yeah, well," begins Neil, who reaches to take the fruit from the other. "This is where I'd say I deserve that."

Alex watches the fruit leave his palm, before continuing to stare at his palm without retracting it. "Yeah, well," he echoes without humor.

"We have different priorities." He pauses, then adds, "Why do you think you deserved it?"

Edited 2016-07-25 06:35 (UTC)

Neil holds the fruit before him, eyeing the patterns of fibers in the meat. He should eat it before he becomes too upset to attend to his own addictions.

"I left without telling you. Not even to inform you of where," he states. "For taking off in general. I should have just...stayed." Put up with it, the awkward emotions. The anger. The strange disconnect between them.

"Neil," Alex speaks, calling attention. Even with the care that had laced the air between them, even the shifting emotions inside of Alex, this is something that needs to be pointed out.

"There's no reason to regret that. You acted like you always have been. The only difference is the length of time--which wasn't even your doing. Why the fuck are you caring about this?" A spark of frustration slips into his expression and he muffles it down. "You wouldn't have before. Don't let it bother you now."

Edited 2016-07-25 06:42 (UTC)

Ah. That's true, isn't it? The person he is (was) would not think twice about his own choices. He would have gone to Point Lookout, enjoyed the sights and sounds, killed some, gained some, and come back perhaps better spirited than before he left.

Why do we do anything?

But there is that man's toothy grin, caked in blood.

You travel the world, kill people, take trophies that interest you, and move on.

As Neil should be. Alex is correct. Neil Park should be moving on, not caught in regret over his own actions, mourning his choices. He wouldn't have before. He would be--

But I suppose it's time that came to an end, one way or another.

He struggles to breathe, to reason, to think, and all that remains are the images of Tobar the Ferryman. Tobar smiling, laughing, taunting even as Neil brought the shovel down, as he smashed its metal against flesh and teeth. Over and over again until there isn't even a face, only a thread of skin and a pile of red pulp.

Unable to speak, Neil closes his fingers over the punga fruit, the tips pressing in. The fruit practically crumbles beneath his touch, his inhuman strength, its juice and flesh flying in every direction.

Well that... That says a few things, doesn't it.

The moment after the mess lays dripping, Alex reaches for Neil's hand. Attempts to uncoil the fingers before they dig into Neil's palm. The juice and pulp from the fruit are thick, sticky, and Alex only understands that there's something that Alex doesn't know here. Something that changed in the time Neil was gone. And Alex is an idiot, of course. Two violations happened to Neil and god knows what else... And here Alex is, harping on things that don't matter.

"...It's been a long couple of days," Alex says. "And a long couple of weeks before that. We should both just... focus on getting back to ourselves, maybe." An admittance, terrible as it is, that Alex is affected by all of this just as Neil is. Not in the same way, or to the same extent, but he is... ruined somewhat. By this and what happened.

Wouldn't the people that hate him love to know that?

"You've been dealing with that fever for a while, too. We should get washed up. Cool down." And clean the remains of regrets off of fingers and souls. Wouldn't that be nice?

Sticky juice runs down his arms, dripping onto his face, and somewhere Neil accepts that he has simply gone mad. That he should just give up before more things become much like this punga fruit. When Alex moves to uncurl fingers, Neil lets him. Puts up no resistance. The younger only looks at the mess with something like apathy.

Alex speaks, and Neil can only respond. Talk as if he had not just pulverized a punga fruit.

"Okay." Neil moves to sit up, careful not to ruin the sheet too much. "That sounds like a good idea."

When Neil moves, Alex reaches his other arm instantly to the kid's shoulder to steady him. Support him as he moves. Alex watches him closely, waiting until Neil is sitting.

"...Regardless of what's happened." In their past or at that ancient park. "I'm still right here, remember? I still want to be closer to you."

The support is appreciated. It helps Neil straighten much easier, allowing him to drag his legs over the side of the bed. He should stand, with Alex beside him, without any major problems.

Neil tries as he responds, as he addresses the reminder. "I haven't forgotten, Alex."

He feels like he's falling suddenly, windmilling out of control if he doesn't find something to steady him, because he feels like he's losing something in this moment, and there's something about that that's too familiar to touch, because it's something unable to be thought of, focused on, and--

There's a single beep from the doorway, emotionless, questionless, only a call for attention. And Alex's eyes rivet for a moment on the eyebot floating there.

The moment is broken by the dog wandering into the room, by the man next to Alex moving to stand. Alex stands instantly, puts a hand under Neil's arm to support him upward. After a moment, ED-E follows Dogmeat into the room.

"It's different," Alex says quietly. "Not needing to carry you."

He hasn't forgotten, but it's not enough. There's a disconnection felt from the other man, something lost in translation, and Neil doesn't have the words. Doesn't have the sentiments to give Alex.

Another does, however. And time, as they say, moves on, and they move forward. With help, he is able to stand. Neil's grateful, and he cannot say.

Dogmeat pads over, silent as the grave, to nudge his cold nose against his master's shin. Neil stays as is, sandwiched between two, wavering on his feet. Alex speaks, and Neil--

"Less of a burden on you like this." He smiles, the gesture mirthless. "I think."

Edited 2016-07-27 05:38 (UTC)

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