the pier.

[doubletap]

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.

Comments

[goodfight]

Neil makes a noise of acknowledgement as he settles more firmly against the gurney. Alex begins his task, and to distract him from nearly anything and everything, the younger man continues the topic.

"Figured," is his response. "Kinda funny because if I had actually been an addict, you wouldn't have seen any caps back then."

[doubletap]

There's a stink to it, as the skin loosens, and that's a bad sign, of course--same with the fluid and pus leaking around the edges. Alex wants to ask Neil what exactly the asshole did do right, but catches the words in his mouth. Just the same, he starts peeling and slowly pulling the pieces of string out, cutting them shorter to get them out easier when needs be.

To Neil, Alex only snorts. "There used to be a lot of drug cons in the Mojave before they got shut down. A lot of money pushing through, that sort of thing. You're a resourceful kid--I thought you found the last remains of one of those gangs and found a way to deal with them." He rolls his eyes, then keeps watching his hands. "Why else would someone reject every last cap I pay them?"

[goodfight]

The opiate that is Med-X works near instantly, and Neil struggles to keep his mind from slipping. There's the sensation of liquid, of cool temperature and of release, but the man tries not to pay them any mind. Especially at the sensation of pulling skin, the needle prick sensations spreading across his forehead. He keeps his attention on the question and tries not to wince.

"One, why would I go to a gang when I know how to make my own chems? Two, drugs suck. Food is better." So much better. He blinks tiredly. "Three, I just didn't want to spend your caps."

[doubletap]

"We're making lists now, are we," he continues dryly, working at getting the last pieces of string out of Neil's flesh. He squints at the work, whistles to ED-E to tilt the light--the eyebot moves to do so. Alex presses a thumb lightly against the side of the gash.

"Darling food whore, I know your preferences well at this point. Preservative laden fruit and pre-processed carbs. Mmm, delicious," he gives in a deadpan.

"Why didn't you want to spend the money you earned helping me?"

[goodfight]

That last bit proves a bit much for the Med-X and Neil's pain receptors, and at the pressure, the man lightly curls his fingers.

"Preservatives and pre-processed are the... Are the staple here," he manages through the sensation. As for the money--

"You saved my life. Didn't want to owe you for more things."

[doubletap]

"Yeah, too infected," he murmurs as an explanation. "Sorry about this, kid."

This being Alex dripping off some of the gunk with the purified water he grabbed prior, before moving to peel back the corners of the skin.

Still, he keeps the conversation going. "Yeah, well; we're out of here soon. You said you wanted to go. You don't have to keep to processed and preservatives." He thinks to let the last slip, but adds a clarification. "And you don't owe me a damn thing. I've said this."

[goodfight]

Rotting skin, pus, and water grate against the sensitive nerve endings, and Neil stifles a cry. He clenches his hands into fists and tenses on the gurney, staying as such until he regains his ground.

At that point, he slowly relaxes. "You, hm." A pause, as if the man never meant to start with that word. "Are we going back to the-- The Mojave?"

For reasons unsaid, he leaves the last statement alone.

[doubletap]

A mess. But a simple one. It's infected, to be sure, but the flesh under the skin is a vibrant, unhealthy red--no trace of black or yellow or gray. Clean it out, it'll heal fine. Which Alex begins to do, mainly relying on simple unirradiated water to do the job. It flushes blood and clots and thicker fluids down through Neil's hair onto the cloth below.

"At least to stop. I need to check on some things and trade out some stuff. Plus I ran out of 12 gauge rounds back in Missouri, and I'm going to be bitchy if I can't use that slick riot shotgun for much longer." He shifts water over Neil's head again, just rinsing out the sick for the moment. "After that, we'll see where we go, huh? There's a lot you haven't seen of the West. Cali is NCR, but there's some amazing stuff to see there."

[goodfight]

Despite the stinging pain, the awkward, the mess, Neil takes the cleaning as well as it can be expected. Tense and unhappy. It takes much of his concentration not to whimper.

Somehow, this does not stop him from actually responding to Alex. "Cali...fornia is where the Vault...Dweller is from?" he manages between breaths. "Go see...his vault...?"

Because according to a special guy in a special kind of power armor, the Vault Dweller is famous around those parts.

[doubletap]

Without looking away from his work, Alex raises his eyebrows.

"North part of California, from what I hear," Alex answers. The fact of the kid having an interest and preference in where they go sets him back to that first week, where they traveled the Mojave, and Alex tried to seduce Neil into appreciating it. In the end, there was a different kind of seduction, but it was really that Neil was a cute drunk and responded well to kindness and interest under alcohol. Better than most days.

"If you want to go there, we'll make it happen. NCR might be bitches about it, but there's a way." Somehow. "We'll go to Arroyo, too--the city the Vault Dweller started back when. The Hub, Vault City, New Reno... There's a lot of culture, old world and new, in those places."

No wonder Ulysses never went.

[goodfight]

It's a substantial list of places the Courier offers, and Neil, in his drug and pain-laden haze, proves responsive. He soaks the information in, mind flashing forward to a possible future.

"Was originally going to...someplace called San Francisco." The original plan that has yet to come to fruition. "Was going to see the ocean."

[doubletap]

Alex continues, water still running pink. The conversation is far more rewarding than he originally thought. "Frisco?" Alex questions, voice for the first time since Neil came back filled with something close to pleasant satisfaction. "I've been there. I really like that town," he confides. "It has a lot of interesting aspects to it. Hubologists, a group of Chinese from a sub called the Shi, a survivalist group called the Vagrants, and a--"

Alex pauses everything to look up and frown at the opposite wall. After a single beat, he grins ruefully and shakes his head. "...And a live bomb in the middle of town, Wanderer. You'd feel right at home."

[goodfight]

It's the first stroke of luck since, well, forever-- Alex Seattle Geer has visited Neil's original destination and provides further insight in its sights and sounds and unusual groups. As they have a great deal of time ahead of them, he thinks to address them one at a time.

First, working backwards, the bomb. "More people need to...learn..." He takes a deep breath in an effort to focus away from his physical distress. "Learn how to disarm that shit. How...did that happen anyway?"

[doubletap]

Alex carefully peers at Neil's head. Once completely rinsed, he'll be able to see more--the white of bone and the flush of flesh, but he needs to make sure it's completely good before he continues. There was too much rot with that fucking string used, too much inflammation along the edges. The conversation, then, is a good space filler. "Not that sure, to be honest. People mentioned something about revenge from an old rig--Enclave, maybe? It could have been the whole Navarro shit."

He shakes his head. "Either way, we can ask when we're there. Then you can disarm a second bomb," he adds, giving a charming smile.

[goodfight]

Enclave apparently had a pretty big to-do in the West as well, albeit Navarro only reminds him of fire ants and protective fathers. Neil frowns thoughtfully, making a mental note (if he remembers) to ask when they are there. "I'm not disarming any more bombs unless I see caps."

He moves to the second topic. "So Hubologists." Which Alex mentioned once or twice prior. "What's their religion about?"

[doubletap]

"Then ask for caps, babe. No one's stopping you." The other side of things....

Alex makes a pained face. "Nothing like a religion at all, that's for damn sure. It's more a long con left over from the old world. But it's really something you should see for yourself."

[goodfight]

There is a brief pause. Then: "Did ask for caps in the beginning." Beginning meaning, of course, when Neil first entered the surface world. "All I got were complaints about how I'm taking away caps from x, y, and z. So I eventually just stopped asking."

It's a non-sequitur. A highly unusual one, but something he felt like saying.

He inhales sharply to gain some stability before continuing. "You're going say the same thing about the Shi and the Vagrants...aren't you?"

[doubletap]

The water begins to run clear. Alex sees the white of bone, an unhealthy crack. There's something off and he starts to get a bad feeling. "No, I'll tell you," he starts, distracted suddenly. "But first you have to help me a bit."

Alex reaches to touch the tip of his pinky finger to the outside of the crack, on the solid bone. He traces it with his eyes. "Do you know what he used to cut the bone?"

[goodfight]

Something within him, something once untouched, stirs, and Neil suppresses a shudder. Tries to think back to the clues, to the tools that might have been used. Not the surgeon. Definitely not the surgeon.

Except nothing really comes to him. Nothing except that vision, that walk through water.

Actually, wait.

"I dreamed--" He pauses, shifting words around. "I think it was a saw with a serrated blade."

[doubletap]

"Brace yourself," Alex says, then peels back the skin on Neil's forehead as gently as he can.

...

Then visually confirms his bad feeling and Neil's words. He licks his lips as not to say anything he'll regret. He thins his lips to remember anger isn't something that has a place here. He breathes and thinks he can possibly remember the feeling of calm.

This isn't it. Not at all.

[goodfight]

From Neil's perspective, the next minute simply disappears. Looking back, he assumes he must have blacked out. Nothing registers in his memory. There's only static on the line.

When he comes to, the entire front of his head feels like it is on fire, every pain receptor screaming at him to stop. Stop whatever madness is causing this, to flail and fight the source. Fortunately, his efforts at concentrating serve him well; Neil manages to neither jolt nor scream during the process.

He is, however, gripping the edge of the gurney with the strength of a deathclaw strung out on Buffout. Consequently, the metal starts to bend and crack.

[doubletap]

The creaking sound of metal alerts him to a threat he overlooked. Aka, Neil Park's inhuman strength, currently focused enough on not moving that the gurney decides to move instead. The wish to comfort vanishes in an eyeblink--nothing other than getting this over with would be something like comfort.

"Sorry, Neil," Alex murmurs, reaching the kid's forearm before retracting it back to work. The skin, thinner than anywhere else on the body, mostly stays where he leaves it, folded along itself. It's fine. It's enough. He doesn't need to do surgery here, just--

"I have to reset the bone," he says, voice tight and angry. "Going to have to do a bit more first. You still going to be able to bear it? Say the word and you don't have to be conscious for this."

[goodfight]

Neil stays like that, frozen in that excruciating agony, for another good minute. The metal bars bend to form decent hand impressions.

A brief touch pulls his attention back to his surroundings, to his body, and bit by bit, Neil releases the tension, the heavy grip on the metal. A piece snaps off and falls to the wayside, which he ignores to concentrate on breathing.

He inhales and exhales for a moment, eyes wide open and chest heaving. It takes him longer to chance speech. "Do...it..."

[doubletap]

One would look at this kid, sharp, attractive, but possibly unassuming, and see the damage he's doing to the gurney and see a threat. Obviously this kid is mutated in some way--his DNA not completely human anymore. A lot of people would see that metal fall away and decide to end him instead of try to help him. Alex only spares a glance for it, and wishes Neil wasn't in that much pain to cause that reaction.

He doesn't waste time answering. The faster he can get this over with, the faster Neil won't have to deal with it. He had tools put aside in case he did have to lift part of the skull to reset it--now he'll be using them to take the entire part off. The awkward oval, cut at an angle, very obviously with a serrated blade--the kind you use for meat to carve, at an old world table, or to gather wood by sawing a tree-- It's probably what's causing most of the problem. A filthy knife, an unclean wound, an uneven cut, and gods be fucking good, a jagged serrated edge on either side.

Alex swallows, caught somewhere between rage and disgust. His plan shifts, changes. He's fucking glad for ED-E.

The first thing, however, is honestly the hardest for Neil, though. The bone has started fusing, despite the edges.

[goodfight]

Once said, Neil understands there is no going back. Two weeks have past since his makeshift operation; whatever break making up the hole in his head would have started to fuse. And there is no amount of bracing that's going to prepare him for that separation. He breathes, chest expanding and contracting in a rhythm fit for concentration. For readiness.

Funny thing, though, about pain. Sometimes an overdose of it is enough to keep you from feeling the full extent, keep you from knowing when it finally hits.

Neil doesn't remember. For a brief, unknown point in time, his world spirals into the dark, into that blessed nonexistence.