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]

Somewhere along the way, probably when he'd gotten used to the water temperature, he had fallen asleep.

And somewhere, in that pitch black of sleep, Neil sees that winding path to the Jefferson Memorial from the dark sands of the river, against the backdrop of D.C.'s ruined landscape. He watches that mirrored world, that second Capital Wasteland, and wonders. Considers that he's here by an old, rickety pier and not there. Not in the Memorial, where he should be.

It's a problem with a simple solution, but as he goes to lift his legs, they do not move. The limbs are firmly rooted to the ground, and no matter the amount of superhuman strength he utilizes, Neil cannot take a single step forward.

In the dream and in the world, the man growls in frustration. Vents out his anger in a single, low noise. It pisses him off to near tears because he wants to go there. He wants that solidity, the five fingers spanning out against another's chest, and that name.

That man who is in another place, who had once carried him away from an old, rickety pier.

[doubletap]

A growl comes from the bed as Alex drops the packs to the cleared off table, and, surprised, he looks to Dogmeat. The dog, ears perked, is only looking at Neil. Alex frowns, crossing to the bed and reaches to touch the back of his hand to Neil's cheek--hot, unhealthy, but not entirely worrisome. Alex knew what he was getting into--

He pauses, wondering. Wondering what exactly he thought he knew from the start.

He shakes his head, dropping the subject, and bends down to carefully kiss the top of Neil's head. "Keep resting for now, kid," he murmurs, before heading back to the table. The fruit bag is dropped into the shit chair--that nice one Alex claims for napping and kid-stalking, kthnks--and he dumps the contents of both bags onto the table. It isn't all of their crap, of course; they have countless packs, bags, and pouches, but these are their travelling packs, full of the oh so useful shit to survive. And all Alex has to eat is wrinkled old banana yucca fruit and packs of MREs. Neil has drugs.

Awesome. A+ forever.

[goodfight]

His dream self contemplates ripping off his legs to set himself free. The idea seems very plausible, even as it may mean crawling through dirt, debris, and radiation. Neil will deal if it means getting there. Wherever there happens to be.

Huh, that's funny. He's sure he was in another place a second ago, not sitting in darkness with warmth searing across the top of his head. That's really funny--

Now that I-- "--think about it." It's-- "--kinda...hot in here..."

And it feels like it's getting warmer by the minute. The guy tugs at his collar, man and place forgotten, wondering if he should start stripping. Easier than putting up with this humidity and heat.

Meanwhile, after mumbling words, Neil clumsily lifts up a hand to his neck and feels around for something.

[doubletap]

He starts repacking, inventorying as he goes. All ammo goes into the small pockets in his own pack. The remaining food, medical supplies, and chemicals go into Neil's. The miscellaneous stuff he'll fill his own with, so he'll--

There's mumbling, clear words, and again, Alex slowly turns to look at Neil, brows furrowing. It's like when he walked to the memorial, except this time, he's starting to think maybe the kid isn't awake at all. He lowers the stuff he's holding, crossing back again. He watches Neil until he starts to move, then Alex reaches out to snag Neil's hand, closing his hand around it gently to lower back down. "...Think you're making him warmer, 'Meat," Alex murmurs to the dog as he watches the kid. ED-E does a quick translation for Dogmeat, and after the dog cocks his head, he hops down, moving over to Alex to drool on his leg. Alex's concentration on Neil's drops.

"Ugh, why would you-- How does Neil deal with you?"

Dogmeat opens his mouth in a canine smile, and glaring, Alex lets go of Neil to cross back to the packs, throwing the dog a shriveled yucca fruit. Dogmeat catches it in his mouth, and lays down to chew on it like it's a ball. Alex throws up his hands. ED-E beeps pleasantly.

[goodfight]

Suddenly, the temperature becomes tolerable, like Hell cooled down enough to be just a BBQ. Or he's getting closer to thermal equilibrium. No, wait.

His sleeping self furrows his eyebrows in concentration. "That's not right," Neil says clearly to the audience in the dark, as though fully present in that outside world. "Thermal equilibrium is--" --when you introduce a third-- "--object like a thermometer."

To Hell and the BBQ, Neil.

"To Hell and the BBQ."

[doubletap]

The dog chews, the bot beeps, Neil talks about thermometers and bbq, and Alex-- Alex can't--

"...Oh, I cannot take this right now," he says dryly, eyes rolled to the ceiling. He's going to be sitting for a while--might as well see his options upstairs before resigning himself to the chaos in this room. Alex points sternly at ED-E, who does a playful scared noise in response, making Dogmeat look up, tongue hanging out. Alex supplicates the heavens, and squeezes Neil's shoulder on the way out.

Getting over his blockages are simple in light clothes for an agile person like himself. Soon he's up to the door, trodding out into the floor above. He nearly runs into the younger guard coming out. Alex stops, straightening to his height, and the kid shifts his weight nervously. About to open his mouth, and therefore, get beat, the older guard interrupts by rounding the corner. He points back behind him. "Go back up Cooper at the entrance with the caravan." Turning to Alex, the older man is surprised to see the dark haired guy perk up.

"Caravans," Alex repeats quickly. "Here? Now?"

"Not for long?" the man replies slowly, confused at the reaction.

"Long enough," Alex says, moving quickly toward the entrance. He calls back as he goes. "Keep your midget guard off of me, and I'll explain some shit when I get back in a sec."

Alex rounds the corner near the entrance, and the man drops his face into his hands. Why does he feel like they'll be all dead by the end of this............

[goodfight]

Attempting to summarize the zeroth law of thermodynamics confuses the shit outta him. More accurately, it pulls the sleep straight out of him, and awake, Neil opens his eyes wide to the outside world. He breathes in, lungs taking in the hot air and eyes absorbing the dim lighting.

This last for mere seconds. The fever and the drug-induced haze again grab him, pulling his consciousness down to the depths. They cover the hole left behind with quiet, labored breathing and flushed skin, with a body that might as well have not woken up at all.

There is quiet now. Heat and fog. Color like lilies on the pre-War books, cracked and yellow with age.

[doubletap]

The caravans had finished their business and were getting ready to leave when Alex burst out the door, looking like a crazy person. A handful of caps convinced them to sell to said crazy person (a mirror would have helped his cause--apparently there was blood under his chin, whoops), and he brought their entire stock of "food" and ammunition. A more perky Alex Seattle Geer moved to head back inside--

Only to see the shine of metal in the distance. He hears the sound of heavy feet, and while it could be anyone--anyone, really, at all--he knows a little better than that. "...Shit."

He slips back inside, willing to pay his toll with the guard, and bunker back down. He comes in to the guy in the middle of a lecture. "Drew, I fucking swear, if you go near that door one more time..."

"It's suspicious, what it is. There's no reason we should just let him--"

"Actually," Alex interrupts, arms full of boxed food. "There's seven reasons that you should. Oh! And a rocket launcher as well. So eight reasons. But don't let me stop you. Open the door. See what happens." He smiles, charmingly, and the kid--Drew, apparently--stares at him. The so-far-unnamed man moves to walk between them.

"No worry about that, seriously. We have no need to trouble you. The Wanderer--he okay?"

Alex is charmed that the man asks after Neil. It softens him toward the idiot the man is babysitting. "He'll be okay. Worst part is over, we just need to ride out the rest. It's gonna be a little bit more. We putting you out?"

"Nah, like I said," the man replies, shaking his head. "We don't use the space down there. Name's Washington, by the way. This is my little contingent force," he says, with a hand to the mouthy Drew and the silent Cooper.

"Rivet City more than BOS?" Alex wonders.

"Yeah, we're Rivet City. Franchising the water project since the Brotherhood is too busy to take care of all of it."

"I'm sure," Alex gives, in a tone between sincerity and sarcasm. "Any rate... You got a contingent of your own heading this way, those boys in shiny steel." Alex catches the way Washington's mouth tightens, only perceptibly. There's a couple power plays in place, some dislikes already settled--but he already guessed as much. And he could use it, if the Drew kid would shut his fucking face.

It makes him wish it was a year and a half ago, two years back, however much longer, that he could just put a cap in the guy's ass and be done with it. Fucking moral relativity and the loss of self-centered justification. Alex sighs out at the loss, provoking Washington to warily reply. "We aren't going to turn you over, if that's what you're worried--"

"Not worried," Alex replies with a simple smile. "And any way--remember, that kid down there is a card carrying BOS." And so am I somewhere, he says internally, rolling his eyes. "But I don't want those assholes to get too 'concerned' and wanna take him to a medic--kid can't be moved now, and there's going to be some bodies if someone tries."

Alex looks around the room--Cooper holds his gaze without complexity, Washington shows a worried kind of agreement, and Drew looks away. And that is who Alex crosses the distance to. He leans down, tilting his head to catch the kid's eyes. "Hey," he says, a familiar call for attention. "You hate my guts, right?"

The kid looks back, seemingly shocked--worried. Alex smiles. "Don't cause trouble for me, and you can try to shoot me up as much as you like."

"Man, I didn't say--"

Alex shrugs. "You aren't going to earn points with those assholes by outing us. They'll sing to your song and dance and forget your life the second you're out of sight. Brotherhood doesn't take in homeless nobodies unless they put their life on the line. And tattletelling doesn't really cut it."

The kid reddens, and Alex isn't sure if it's anger or embarrassment. Washington steps closer. "Seriously... He's not going to say anything. We represent Rivet City--we can't afford to cause a fuss for them."

"Then we shouldn't have let--"

"Drew." The silent man in the corner speaks, cutting off the kid who turns to stare. "Just shut up."

Alex grins in the silence, and starts to move through the room. "Washington, Cooper, Drew, right?" At the nods, Alex nods one of his own. "I'm not from around here, so you probably wouldn't have heard of me." I'm a pretty big deal. "Alex Seattle Geer. Not at your service, sadly. Kid's taking up most of my time and energy for that. But just so you know--I always repay my debts." A promise for Washington--and Cooper, probably. A threat for Drew if he decides to act smart. Nearing the door, he calls back over his shoulder.

"Oh, and Washington? Kid's got a name. Not just the Lone Wanderer. Name's Neil Park. That's something that you guys should be spreading."

It was nice sometimes, he thinks, dumping the shit he's carrying down the stairs so he can hop over. To interact with people that didn't want to kill you and screw you over. Who didn't fucking know you from Adam. Who treated you just like a guy. A guy who can kill you with seven different guns and a rocket launcher, true, but a guy all the same.

At the bottom of the stairs, Alex chuckles, and starts picking up all of the crap. On the floor above him, Washington slaps the back of Drew's head, and the kid rubs it, swearing and whining. Cooper sighs, and goes back to oiling his gun.

[goodfight]

Somewhere, he's gone away. Quite far away, built from the miles and miles he's hoarding, moving through the weightless burden called slumber. He's stepped here before, in times past and passing. This is, by now, habit. To burn chemicals into oblivion, a method.

Neil pauses in his motions, uncomfortably shifting in both dream and life. There is a familiarity here he cannot name, a precipice he's visited time after time. And this--

What's wrong? someone asks. Male. Dark-haired and bright-eyed, but it isn't the man Neil's looking for. There is dark like pitch. Bright like pretty poisons. His entire existence is a blur, but whatever. There're bottles of whiskey and wine between them and lights dimming below them, and Neil Park is only trying to pass the time.

"Got distracted," he murmurs. "Where are--" --you from anyway?

The other man shrugs, a blur of movement, and reaches across the counter for the whiskey. You already asked me that, he replies evenly. If you can't remember the answer, try another question.

Neil scowls, his mind fighting through the wine (Med-X). "Look. I'm having trouble 'membering things. How 'bout you clue me in, huh?" Throw me a goddamn bone.

The stranger frowns heavily, displeased by the last statement. Try another question, he presses.

[doubletap]

Let's go off the assumption that the Brotherhood of Shitheads were stopping here and are nosy enough to do a full inspection. Can't have Rivet City guards thinking for themselves, after all. So Alex is going to treat it like they were using the downstairs for junk gathering and leaves the couch and first filing cabinet as it is. The threat of them thinking someone's down here from just that alone is balanced out by pictured a couple of lugs in power armor falling down the stairs. Unavoidable, really. Has to be done.

The desk and second filing cabinet blocking the hall, however, are pushing into the medical room's opening. There's no time--or energy, honest to god--to clean it all, and hell if he knows where garbage goes in the Capital, except on the ground to add to the rest.

Which leaves the little corner room where they're shacked up. ED-E comes out into the hall at the noise Alex is making, and Alex fills him in on what's happening. "I'm thinking to pull some of the bunks over, close off that whole hall."

ED-E watches him, makes no sound. It's enough for Alex to stop what he's doing to look at him, wiping the back of a hand over his forehead.

ED-E beeps in a low tone, then offers a trill of sound. You're tired, is what he notices. Can't we just shut the door and stay quiet?

He is tired, enough to be noticeable by a inorganic 'bot apparently, enough for him to be breathless when all he'd done was haul a couple of pieces of furniture. Maybe the smarter thing here would be to recognize limits. Do a quick power nap to regain some stamina so he's in better shape to fuck with anyone who shows up. Yeah. Yeah, all right.

Alex offers a smile to ED-E, one of their own. "Good idea. Thanks, ED-E." He gathers up the pile of food, and heads toward the room instead of causing more of a mess and making himself useless later on.

ED-E follows quietly. If he could sigh, he would have.

[goodfight]

Another question. It shapes easily in the back of his throat; it crawls to settle on the tip of his tongue. Yeah, Neil can ask another question.

What are you? What, not who.

A smile, stretched thin across the other guy's lips, greets him. Annoys the hell out of him. Neil's sure the guy's fucking smiling at him, even as the blurs distort and shift further, not out of sheer amusement but something much, much older.

What a question, the other muses aloud as he tips the whiskey bottle into his cup. You're at a ten, are you not? No, actually. It's less with that 'hat'. He points to Neil's head, to the wrappings sticking against his hair and skin, and makes a sympathetic noise. My mistake, Lone Wanderer. I truly thought you knew.

Hurts. Hearing that really hurts. "I told you." Can't remember. Neil looks away to the wine glass, to the golden liquid swirling within, his cheeks flushed and burning.

The other man watches him for a long uncomfortable minute. All right, he finally says. You have my complete and full disclosure. My name... He leans in as if to kiss Neil, moving instead to the side, lips close to an open ear.

There's a whisper, three syllables to the count, and the stars align. They synchronize, they come together to fall to pieces, and Neil finds himself closer to another than he ever wanted to be, closer than even--

His fever rises, his skin's dripping sweat, and the one called the Lone Wanderer laughs darkly in his dreams. He pushes away the other with his forearm in a single lazy motion, the opposite hand coming up to flick the guy's nose.

"Fuck you," he says fondly, with emphasis, as the other gives a sound of disgust. "You're finally here." Was waiting for you. "Am I able to leave?" For good this time?

And end it all at last.

No.

A complete denial. It's expected, and still he hears the pounding in his chest. Feels the acidity in his ears. "Then why--" --the hell-- "--are you here?" asks Neil, his voice unchanging. And not with-- "--your better half?"

The other man makes a complicated face amid the blur, allowing Neil to feel vindicated. My better half?

Better half, is the prompt response. "Your husband." You know, he's -- "--kinda hot. Has a respectable job. Drives a decent car. Smells really good." That is, according to another. This other. Neil's only indifferent toward, well, nearly everyone; it's just the borrowed aspects that allow him to step over his bounds.

It doesn't matter how far he crosses. Not here, at any rate.

[doubletap]

Alex walks in to a one-sided conversation. Eyebrows raised, he passes Neil as he murmurs, moving to the table to add to the pile.

"--you here?" Neil questions. "...your better half? Your husband."

It would almost be funny, this conversation. Alex wonders who he is talking to.

"--kinda hot. Has a respectable job. Drives a decent car. Smells really good."

...Wonders who he is talking about.

Leaving the items on the table for now, Alex moves to the bed, crouching down to put his mouth close to Neil's ear. "...Cheating on me, Wanderer?"

[goodfight]

The blur obscuring the other man's face takes on a tone of red, red, red, and Neil's laughing. Howls until his sides hurt, and he's doubled over on the counter, slapping his hand down against the granite. He does not cease his sounds even when he notes clenched fists and teeth from the other, even as his prone body stretches its lips out in a goofy smile.

The act finally stops at a question. Spoken by a voice entirely too familiar to properly place. Neil pauses to glance at the blur.

Was-- "--that you?"

His counterpart shrugs, the movements stiff as a board. He's still very pissed, it seems. Not me. Maybe yours? he gives, tone reeking of hate.

Neil cannot help the eyebrow raise as he peers at the other man over the wine glass. "My better half?" A pause. He's-- "--too busy killing himself over me."

That's funny. He hadn't meant to say that.

[doubletap]

Apparently the conversation continues. A tad more pointed--one that makes Alex quiet and consider things. He stands, looking downward, then leans to kiss the top of Neil's head, a hand cupping the side of his face. "...Get more rest than this, Neil." Get a deeper sleep, one you can actually heal in.

Alex needs to sort the rest of the crap, and there's still those holotapes he found, but at the moment, he should heed ED-E's advice--he doesn't know if and when those BOS bastards are going to show up. He tugs the cushioned chair over to the bed, setting it close to the mattress, before settling down.

ED-E hovers, as he does, and Dogmeat watches. Alex reaches down and drapes a hand over Neil's own. He leans his head back and closes his eyes.

Knowing ED-E is watching, he murmurs in a show of annoyance, "This chair isn't comfortable at all."

ED-E beeps affectionately, and despite everything, Alex feels his mind slipping away.

[goodfight]

It's funny, those transitions in dreams. They come and go as they please, and when they do, you never remember exactly when. Sometimes, you never remember what came before when you reach the after.

Here, it is the same. Neil falls into the deeper rest asked for, slipping into absence, and the world before simply disappears. There is no counter, no wine. No whiskey, no obscured man striking up conversation.

There is only sleep.