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womp-womp-imma-phantom · 4 months ago

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Hey, we don't talk enough about how a lot of companions are gonna way outlive the player.

Angst and death ahead!

Nick:

Attitude

He doesn't like to think about how long he’s gonna live, and how long she’s gonna live. Never puts him in a good headspace. He just makes sure to stay by her side, keep her out of harm’s way, learn his way around radaway and stimpacks and med-x. She gave him plenty of stress, no doubt, but that was also why he loved her. She was brave. She knew what was right, she kept a level head and stood by those that stood by her. She was skilled enough to rebuild a peace the likes of which the commonwealth hadn’t known in ages. Honestly, it was probably better now. Her settlements were something to behold, and they kept the area around them safe. There was so much food, clean water, people were safe, people had something to fight for, she had taken down anything in her way. She was a one woman nuclear bomb and the commonwealth was never the same.

He realizes sometime later on, that part of him just felt like she’d find a way to live forever. She was brilliant like that, but he also knew that’s something she’d never really pursue. It wasn’t until Nora started showing signs of age that he started looking for ways himself. He found evidence of plenty, none though that let her keep her humanity. He swore to himself he’d stay by her, support her in age and infirmity, she wouldn’t be alone. The looming threat of Nora’s death was something he proffered only to pay mind to while fighting, or while Nora entertained a much too shady quest. Then he used it to protect her, and knowing that he would be there no matter what hairbrained scheme Nora managed to get herself entangled in gave him some measure of peace of mind. Nothing would take her if he had a say in it. Maybe not even death, if that synth to human connection line of research lines up with the research on downloading a human mind.

In the Moment

Realistically, it was probably a delicious dinner. He didn’t eat, but he set himself timers to harass Nora to eat, drink and sleep as she had a tendency to procrastinate all of them. They were not needed tonight. Tonight she wasn’t just Nora, she was Nora, general of the Minutemen. And Nora, general of the Minutemen, was to be meeting with the upper brass of diamond city. No doubt quite annoying for them, seeing as her history placed her as a dirty vault dweller asking questions in the upper stands and eventually finding out the mayor is a secret synth. The fact that she had to meet with them to solidify trade deals they desperately wanted no doubt got under their skin.

Evidently too much, as Nora quickly curled into herself in her seat, clutching her sleeves and shaking. “N-nick?” She sounded scared as he watched a shudder wrack through her.

“Nora, what’s wrong?” Her labored breathing had him pulling her back into him. She seemed to be foaming at the mouth. “No, baby no” he nearly dropped her in his shock, managing instead to cradle her to his chest as he fell to his knees. Her hand twitched up and he grabbed it tight. He’d seen cyanide poisoning before. He knew it hurt. There wouldn’t be enough time to get her a doctor, much less anyone who can treat a poison like this. “Please no.” He begged. Her chest was heaving, but he knew none of it would help her breathe. Her eyes were flitting around the room, unfocused and scared.

“Look at me Nora” He gave her hand a squeeze and her panicked eyes locked onto his glowing gaze. “I got you” He smoothed her hair back, winced at the pained groan falling from her lips. “I love you Nora” and he knew it was likely the last thing she ever heard. He watched the light leave her eyes, her breaths fall short. It happened all too fast.

He looked up around at everyone there, everyone’s reaction to what transpired. He would get to the bottom of this. He’ll find who did this. God help them when he did.

Hancock:

Attitude

Sometimes he wished Nora would turn ghoul. He wondered if that drug he took was really the only hit ever. He didn’t care what she looked like, what the years would do to her, but he would never be ready to lose her. Not her smile, not her will to see the world made better, not her joy or her ability to see the potential good in everything around her.

He always maintained visibility with her in battle. He’d been yelled at more than a few times for taking hits meant for her. He trusted her ability to protect herself, he knew just how incredibly capable she was, but nothing prepared him for the full blown animal panic he felt the first time he saw her go down. He fought like he hadn’t before even to save his life. He hated seeing her hurt, seeing her sick. She of all people deserved a long, healthy, pain-free life. He knew it was too late for the last one, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try to mitigate what he could. As far as he and the decent half of the commonwealth were concerned, she was a saint walking. The idea that he would somehow outlive her felt like a cruel joke.

He didn’t expect to breakdown like he did the first time he found a gray hair on Nora. He didn’t think she even woke up for it, him cradling her head on his chest, trying and failing to calm his hyperventilating with her even, rested breaths. He would make her a synth if he could, bottle her somehow and keep her like this, forever. If it wasn’t her worst nightmare he wondered if he could put her back in a cryo pod, wake her up for the best moments. She would hate it, he knows, but he dreams still, of having her around for every beautiful moment of his life.

He knows he’ll never be ready for it, whether it comes in fifty years or tomorrow. He dreads what he’ll become when she’s gone. He knows she’ll want him to carry on her legacy, watch her settlements and keep people who just want peace safe. He would do it too, he thinks. It could become his singular drive, after her. He knows no matter what, when she’s gone he’ll just feel empty. He prays when she passes it will be peaceful, not scared or afraid or alone. He prays he’ll be there.

When it happens

It was a political grab in the end.

A tribe of raiders who didn’t know how she had restructured the minutemen to withstand her loss, an assassin killed seconds after they struck.

He held her as she fell, cushioned her fall and put pressure on the wound. Packed it with clean cloth from the table that she made possible with her water purifiers and generators and traps and creative ability. It was such a brutal thing though, through the gut and up into the lung. She was supposed to be safe, she was just wearing a cotton dress. It did nothing against buckshot. He screamed for Curie.

“Please baby, stay with me. Hold on, you’ll be okay. You’ll be okay sunshine.” He helped heave her onto the table, helped Curie access the wound, administered the med-x so she wouldn’t hurt, because god his sunshine was gasping.

“She can’t breathe Curie, what do we do?” Curie looked like she wanted to cry, a very grim mask on her face.

“We need to get her on oxygen or I need to get this lead out of her fast and hit her with a super stimpak. We don’t have oxygen.” Curie set to work removing each piece of buckshot, quickly and efficiently and he would never forget how Nora started to wheeze. She thrashed and he knew he had to hold her down when Curie grunted.

“Hold on sunshine, you’ll be okay. Hold on for me.” He brushed her hair back from her forehead, placed a kiss upon it and prayed. He felt a hand on his head, caught a weak hand, laced his fingers with hers. He knew he was crying, he did during every scare, but when he caught that scared, spacy look in her eye he sobbed. “Curie, what’s going on-”

“I just keep finding more!” Curie yelled back at him, pulling out pellet after pellet.

“Fuck, sunshine please. I don’t want a world without you. I love you.” He held their entwined hands to his face, pressed kisses to her fingertips. “Please, please, please” He wasn’t sure who he was begging. Her, god, fate? It was all happening so fast. He wasn’t ready.

She wheezes, this awful hollow sound and he watches her eyes finally focus on him. “John?” She says it so light, so quiet, like a question. He just hoped she wasn’t as scared as she sounded.

“Yeah sunshine, I'm right here. You’re okay.” He gave her hand a squeeze. She started to shake her head. “Please baby, you’re okay.”

“Shawn” she gave the tiniest squeeze to his hand.

“I know baby, he’ll be okay. You know me an’ Curie and Nick and, an’ Codsworth. Ada. Strong. We- we got him. Just please hold on, hold on for me please sunshine.” He was begging at this point. She just tried to shake her head again. “Reserve your strength baby-”

“I- love you-” He hated the hollow, wet change to her voice. Her lovely, clear, beautiful voice.

“I know sunshine.” He cut her off. “I love you too. So much. I will always love you.” She smiled, shook her head at that again. She got this faraway look in her eye. Curie pushed him away, injected the stimpack despite the countless bits of buckshot still within. She began administering CPR. After what felt like ages, Curie crumpled against Nora’s chest. She was shaking, he knew she was crying. He screamed.

Curie:

Attitude

Curie always fretted over Nora’s health. She knew that Nora would age, that she could get hurt. Her own newfound vulnerability was certainly an adjustment when Nora got her a synth body. When she was able to actually feel it, she discovered that Nora’s vulnerability even compared to her, terrified her.

She dedicated a lot of energy to watching Nora’s health when she realized that Nora herself didn’t pay much mind to it. She pestered Nora to eat a balanced diet, refused to move on from a fight without checking her over. When she needed stitches, Curie was the one stitching Nora up. When Nora needed medicine, Curie administered it. If Curie didn’t join Nora on an outing, she was worried until she laid eyes on Nora again. She wouldn’t let Nora settle in until she was certain Nora didn’t need treatment.

The few times she saw Nora hurt, Curie felt more than she ever had in her life. She couldn’t focus on anything beyond healing Nora. She only really yelled if Nora was hurt and Curie was scared for her. If her and Nora fought, it was about the carelessness with which Nora dived into situations or her willingness to brush off an injury. The one time Curie ever yelled at Nora was when Nora insisted that the best plan of action for her bullet wound was to ‘walk it off’.

Curie realized that realistically, she would far outlive Nora. Just like she outlived her researchers. She wouldn’t be alone, sure. Nora entrusted her with the long term guardianship of Shawn. She liked being a parental figure to him. They were both adjusting to synth life together, but she could still see so much of Nora in him. He felt like their son. Still, she knew she’d never be ready to say goodbye to Nora. Nora made her feel like she could understand being alive. She made her want to feel. She dreaded the day she’d have to say goodbye. All she could do was protect, care for, and cherish Nora while she had her.

When it happens.

Curie wasn’t ready. She was not ready to watch Nora deteriorate. Cancer was an inevitability for many in the fallout riddled wasteland. She just wished it wasn’t Nora’s fate. Curie had dove into her research, but there was no safe way to treat it any more. By the time Curie found a way to potentially attack the cancer it had already reached her lymph nodes.

Curie and her friends had to hide their grief from Nora. They tried as best they could. Nora tried her best to stay upbeat through it all, shut down conversations about grief and dying. Pushed herself through dinners and parties and a few final speeches to the Minutemen. Gave her opinions as to potential succession. She started a journal, sitting for hours into the night writing down every useful piece of information she knew. Accounts of her life before the bombs, details of politics and culture. What poems she could remember, songs she loved, recipes and life tips, how-to guides and blueprints. She restructured what she could, Curie didn’t quite know how to break the news to Nora, but she seemed to know even before Curie told her. Nora set to work the moment she felt herself waver. She restructured everything about her settlements, built methods for local leadership and transfer of power and communication between settlements. Nora made sure that her radio system was robust.

Curie hated all of it. The way Nora knew, the way she comforted her when she was telling Nora that she wouldn’t make it. The way she became unhurried, content to linger in moments. No more of that fire to act like she would never have enough time to do what she wanted. Now that Nora knew it was coming, she slowed down. She tried to hide it, but Curie knew Nora was so tired. She wouldn’t stop, but Curie knew she was slowing down to savor it. Like she wanted to remember what was happening.

She hated it even more when it became clear Nora was hiding that it hurt. Curie and her friend group had to practically fight her to get her to rest. The last fight they ever had, Curie was sobbing, begging Nora to tell her what hurt, let her take care of her, stop pushing herself. Nora hated seeing Curie cry. The fight ended with Nora acquiescing, finally letting Curie take care of her, letting herself rest. It always took a bit of prodding to get an assessment of Nora’s pain, even more so to get her to accept pain relief.

Curie found herself praying for one more day. Every night, when it looked like her love was wilting in front of her. Curie prayed for just one more day, found herself counting Nora’s breaths into the night. She found herself fearing this sleep she now needed, worried she’d awaken one morning to the love of her life cold beside her. She began staying up late into the night, holding Nora afraid of the moment her breathing would stop.

The night Nora passed was a painful one. Curie hadn’t left her bedside the whole day. Nora looked so tired, grimaced at just the idea of trying to move. Shawn was scared of visiting her now, had spent that morning crying into Nora’s lap, letting her run tired fingers through his hair and tell him that he would be okay, that she loves him, that he would never be alone, that he was always going to be her son.

All of Nora’s friends were there, helping Curie and Shawn watch over Nora. They were desperate to talk to her, say their goodbyes without actually saying goodbye. As always they cringed through her morbid jokes at her own expense. No one wanted to point out to Nora that they weren't funny, that no one actually benefited from her death and no one was laughing at her new condition.

That day Nora had more energy than normal. Fought Curie a little more about her med-x. Didn’t settle as much when Curie held her that morning. Held long conversations with each of her friends, refused to eat, if not occupied with conversation then with a book or writing. Nora and her friends felt hopeful about how she felt that night, but Curie knew otherwise. She tried not to cry. Prayed more than ever in her life for just one more day. One more day with her, please.

The room was dark and quiet, just her and Nora. Curie held her that night, told her again how she loved her, despite her protests administering her nightly dose of painkillers because she could tell from the tightness in Nora’s limbs that she hurt. She counted Nora’s breaths as she drifted off to sleep, stroked her hair. She had nearly passed out herself when she heard what she always feared. She was shaking when she felt Nora’s breathing stop. She tried to resuscitate her. Begged for Nora to come back to her. Fought to keep her heart beating. She knew she was gone.

She was not ready to be alone.

Charon:

Attitude

Charon was willing to do a lot for Lone. Kill for her. Live for her. Die for her. She bought him, freed him, walked with him to help him realize he was free. She made him feel human again.

There was a time, before he realized what she had done, when he wouldn’t have cared if she died. He’d seen plenty of peppy young things ground down by the wasteland, put a good few down himself. He expected to have his work cut out for him, taking care of this foolish waif of a girl. Even more so when she immediately tried to tear up the contract and “Declare him free and no longer bound to it”. She actually looked like she feared him when he explained what he was meant to do at the destruction of his contract.

Instead, she proved wildly capable, scarily adaptable. She took action without hesitation, and while he wished she would think before diving into other people’s problems he could never deny that she was brave. She was a crackshot, and there were times when she shot down every threat with her pistol before he even got a shot off.

More often than not, she cared for him. Insisted he slept and ate, paid him money he found little use for considering she made sure he had a bed and food, and told him to fuck off on his apparently “mandatory breaks”. She wouldn’t let him go off with an injury, yelled at him when he got hurt and didn’t tell her. The only time they ever ordered him to do anything, was when they told him to run when the enclave came after them and the G.E.C.K. He spent a good time back in the underworld wondering why he felt so scared for this master, why he kept glancing at the door waiting for their crazy unkillable self to stumble through the door and drag him back out into some ill-planned charity scheme. Why instead of apathy or amusement he felt dread at the idea she wouldn't make it back.

He got his answer when he watched them walk into the water purifier. She walked into the same room where she watched her father die, didn’t even look back at her friends behind her. He knew all she needed to hear was “Lives are on the line”. He tried to stop her, but she was always fast. He hated the way her whole body shook and swayed from the radiation coursing through her as she tried to type in the code.

It was an answer he was slow to come to, waiting by the side of her bed. He thought she was a good person, better than any he had ever met. He thought she shouldn't have to do the things that she does. He thought the whole wasteland owed her a whole lot, himself included. He was free, he had realized over that bed. She was too clever to let him be anything but free, even when he could only imagine servitude. In a way he appreciated his role, not much before when people used him like a tool; but now, Lone showed him he was simply a man, and a skilled one at that. Poked and prodded and teased the humanity out of him, she insisted he deserved respect.

He followed this woman because he wanted to. He couldn’t think of wanting to spend time with anyone else. He loved hearing her talk, watching her work. He actually enjoyed talking when it was with her, even if he remained ever taciturn. He couldn’t imagine wanting to protect anyone else.

He realized he relished the work. She did good things, brought him to help her do good things. Protecting her, it felt like a good thing. Not erasing, but evening the score of the things he has done. It felt like repentance. Whatever this woman decided she would do, he knew he wanted to be there to help her. He was free and his heart belonged to this woman because he gave it to her. It was not fear for himself and his future that caused his worry, there would be no masters after her. No, he loved her. And he did not want to live in a world without her.

The panic that overtook him when he realized that fact was unlike anything he felt in decades. Here he was, with a love like a chain around Lone’s neck praying this wasn’t her deathbed, and nothing he could do. He didn’t think he was ever religious, but he started praying to something that night.

She recovered, and he had to practically fight her to get her to rest instead of springing back into action. He tried hard to hide his newfound realization, but of course she noticed. He was talking more, speaking before he could even think. Pushing her not to take risks, to stay safe. Going out of his way to take bullets meant for her. He started telling her that she did enough, that she doesn't need to play hero, that she should stay safe and enjoy the relative safety she helped make. Of course she asked him what was up, offered him his contract again.

It was hard explaining that he wanted to serve her, wanted to stay with her. Her inquisitive self pried out all the little secrets in his heart and was delighted at what she found. She accepted him wholeheartedly, despite the social stigma that came from it. She loved him, started to fight for him. She became more ferocious in her campaign to ensure those around her respected him and those like him. Wore the target that came with that like a badge of honor, sent those that challenged her off either with their tail between their legs or one extra hole in their body. He became desperate to protect her. Anyone who wanted to so much as talk to her would have to go through him if he had any say about it. Disrespect, threats, towards her he would never tolerate. If she would try to protect him with her ferocity, he would protect her with every ounce of animosity in his soul.

He took joy in being able to protect her, being the person she would lean on when life got hard. For the first time in as long as he can remember his life, his efforts had meaning. The paths she chose were good, she time and again fought to help people; ghouls even, people she didn’t know. She cared if they were getting enough food and water, cared to build communities, cared enough to forgive things he personally found unforgivable. If anything he did could protect or support her, if it could bring her joy, it was worthwhile.

How this undeniable good, loving, beautiful person could stand to love him, choose to fight for him he would never understand. He was something twisted and bent to serve a violent purpose, but if she would make him more, then his bloody talents would be hers without question. He found himself often musing over if there’s really anything he wouldn’t do for her, amusement only. She wouldn’t order him to do anything to save her life, just to save his. She was too good for this world, caught that idealism from her parents like a chronic disease. They’d both watched her father burn for it. He watched her brave radiation enough to knock a ghoul on their ass for those same ideals. He would never tell her, but he swore to himself he would protect her from herself if it came down to it. He would not stand by as she walked into hell, over his dead body.

In the moment

“I said you’re a fucking lying bastard Maxon!” Charon had to physically hold her back. She was on the verge of tears. He knew she thought she could help change the brotherhood, help them become something more than the violent military group they were. He knew she thought they could be family. But they weren't good. Not like her. They found discrimination and massive civilian casualties to be the cost of doing business. Once again she was being betrayed by a group she thought she belonged to.

“You will mind your words when speaking to elder Maxon.” A knight had a weapon trained on her. This was meant to be her dropping in to clear up a discrepancy. Instead they walked into a den of snakes, telling her she was being betrayed and that their favor was her being able to walk away alive.

“Elder my ass! While he was a kid my father was dying for this project. My mom died dreaming of this project. I am willing to die for this project. She said free water for all and I’ll be damned if I don’t fight for it! You can just let people get it! There is enough for everyone! We have a caravan system going! You can’t just decide to cut people off-”

“Those aren't people” Some fascist in power armor spoke up.

“Oh so that’s it? You’re gonna cut them off because they harbor-”

“Are infested by” Maxon corrected.

“God, Maxon what the fuck happened to you? You’re killing people with this decision, you know that?” Lone was full on crying.

“I don’t have time for this, have them removed.” Maxon hardly looked at them as he began walking away.

“No you don’t!” Lone tried to go after him, lurching forward in Charon’s grip.

“Lone, let's just go. We’ll figure something out.” This was getting dangerous and emotional, she wasn’t safe. He wanted to get her out of there so badly.

“I’ll fucking kill you for this Maxon! You hear me! I’ll-” Charon pulled her back, lifting her flailing body and moving to carry her out before she decided to open fire, but he guessed someone decided not to give her the chance, hit just beneath her collarbone, into her lung. No exit wound.

He ran, he had to get her out of there. He was thankful no one at the gate opened fire. He ran until he couldn’t see any signs of the brotherhood, and he would have ran more if not for the worrying amount of blood coating his shoulder. He shifted her and she let out a hollow, wet groan. He kicked his way into a boarded abandoned house, placed her on the rusty bed that had survived in the corner and tried to ignore the panicked wheezing sound she was making. He started looking through her pack, grabbed her med-x, stimpacks, alcohol, bandages, and tweezers.

“Charon-” She reached a clumsy hand out for him. He poured the liquor over his hands, soaked the bandages and tweezers.

“I’m here” He brought everything over to her, felt her place a hand on his head, heard her wheeze again.

“I got you” He set to work fast, administering the med-x before searching for the bullet.

“Charon” She gasped out. Her voice sounded strained and wet.

“You’re okay sweetheart”. He spoke with as much confidence as he could manage, but he knew the pet name betrayed him. She’d teased him about it before, how he only talks to her like that when one of them is fucked up. She wasn’t moving much, but she tried to shift her weight and groaned at it. “Save your energy” he commanded as he worked, placed a steadying hand over her sternum and felt it rise and fall as she breathed. He was scared of looking up at her face. He hated seeing her in pain. He just wished he could find this bullet-

“Charon” She sounded more desperate this time. “Please”.

He glanced up at her face. It was so pale, she looked confused and scared. “I got you, you’ll be okay”. He reassured. She had lost so much blood. He just wanted to take care of this wound fast, get some stimpacks in her. Put this whole mess behind them. She wheezed again.

“No, Charo-”

“Please save your strength” He pleaded. She tried to move and he pushed her back, held her body in place. She stopped fighting him quickly, didn’t quite manage to hide the pained grunt from her exertion. Holding her down didn’t take as much strength as it should have.

“Too much blo-” he hated how she talked about her injuries sometimes, like she herself was a doctor. He wanted to curse her medical background.

“No” He felt himself shaking. She was so pale, but he couldn’t give up.

“Listen” She pleaded. Would administering a stimpack now hurt her? He couldn’t find the bullet. He looked up, met her eyes. She looked scared. He really hoped he didn’t too. “I’m not”

“You’re gonna make it” He spoke firmly.

“I’m not” She wheezed again. He felt her thumb pet one of the few patches of hair he had left. Normally he loved when she did that. “Charon, they’re gonna take-”

“I know” He tried to hold back a sob.

“I- stop them” She seemed desperate, he could practically see the lightheadedness getting to her. He felt the hand on his head briefly make a fist before flattening again.

“I need you to hold on” he pleaded. “I love you, it's not time for you to go yet”. Fuck it, she’d lost too much blood, he can’t find the bullet and she was talking scary. He tried to ignore her wet hiss and his shaking hands as he administered the stimpack.

“Charon” she whined. Her chest started heaving faster, like she couldn’t get enough air in her lungs. He held the hand not on his head. She felt too cold. He forced himself to meet her eye. “I love you” she spoke desperately in a whisper.

“I know sweetheart” He spoke as softly as he could. Gripped her hand tight. Prayed the stimpack would be enough. They both knew it wouldn’t be.

“Charon I’m scared”. She gripped his hand back as best she could. He lifted a bloody hand to grab the hand on his head, kissed the palm.

“You’ll be okay, I got you-” Fuck, he was crying.

“Them, Charon don’t let them-” The words came in one wet gasp.

“I won’t”. He promised.

“I have you”. He gathered her up in his arms, held her like he knew she liked, prayed she felt warm, because to him she felt freezing. He looked her in the eye, they were getting unfocused and distant now. “I love you” he spoke quietly, placed light kisses to her face, repeated it all for her in soft whispers till he felt her last scraping breath.

He was screaming, he realized, when he came to sobbing over her body.

He would bury her, he decided. Then, he had one final order to carry out.

Fawks:

Attitude

He had suggested FEV before. Just once. Lone shot it down of course, wanting to be certain of maintaining her intellect. He couldn’t blame her.

He was always hyper aware of how killable she was, from the moment she let him out. He ran into a lot of radiation explicitly because he knew she would not survive that much radiation. He realized she was a little less killable than he thought when she strolled out of the enclave, the entire faction in ruins, because, apparently to hear her tell it, of her being able to convince the computer that ran the place to blow everything up.

She proved herself highly intelligent, but he often questioned her sanity considering some of the undertakings she willingly endured. When he would voice his objections on basis of safety, she would tell him she could handle it herself if he didn’t want to go. Of course he always went.

He thought she was beautiful, and kind, and accepting. He fought down any and all romantic feelings toward her, relishing instead in being able to help keep her safe and in action throughout all her suicidal attempts at making the wasteland a better place to live. He was always legitimately shocked at her frequent success, and well as some of the situations she managed to just walk out of with nary a scratch.

He was furious when she just walked into the water purifier the second she realized the stakes. Didn’t even ask him to help, just walked in and wobbled her way through typing in the code. He thought she died. Stayed by her bedside terrified she wouldn’t wake up. Felt joy like he couldn’t remember in ages when she did wake up.

Unfortunately for him Lone was curious, mischievous at the best of times, shameless at the worst. She pulled a confession out of him one dark night holed up against a rad storm, himself two bottles of vodka deep (He was a lightweight for a supermutant). Herself quite tipsy, she proceeded to kiss the breath right out his lungs. The next day, she didn’t regret it, and suddenly he had what he thought impossible for him: Love.

His desire to aid and protect her grew tenfold, and they got into a lot of fights about Lone walking into dangerous situations without him going first. He knew better than to tell her not to do something when she put her mind to it, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try and keep her safe.

In the moment

“I don’t like the look of the rest of this compound” Fawks spoke warily, eyeing the change in wall material.

“It could mean we’re closer to the G.E.C.K.” Lone chimed in from his side.

“That could also mean we’re a lot closer to a lot of radiation. We need to be careful.” Fawks warned, gun ready for anything to pop out and attack.

“Look!” Lone grabbed a finger, the closest she could get to holding his hand, and dragged him ahead to a large section of glass paneling looking down into a chamber with a small plate atop a pillar, with a great metal needle hanging from the ceiling above it. “It must be the G.E.C.K.!” She spoke excitedly, hands and nose pressed against the glass. “Where do you think the controls would be?” Lone looked down into the chamber.

“I’m checking it out” Fawks spoke, opening the door and stepping into the larger chamber. When he looked behind him, he was exasperated to see Lone had followed behind him. He sighed, then looked to the wall below the glass panel. “Well, we found the controls”.

“Perfect! The note said that once it's activated, it will start purging radiation from the surrounding wasteland and make the ground fertile. All we gotta do is figure out how to activate it.” Lone wandered to the panel, ran her hands over the buttons. “It’s a two person switch, or one really long person switch”. Lone announced, looking at the glass-enclosed dials on either end of the panel. “Lucky you got backup”. Lone looked at Fawks and winked, and he could only sigh.

“On the count of three?” He opened his box, placed his hand on the dial, watching Lone do the same.” “One..Two..Three!” The machine was deafening when it turned on, sent a blast of air through the room.

“Fawks?” He didn’t even register her geiger counter going off till he realized she had crumbled to the ground. “Fawks?” He gathered her up in his arms, checked her pip-boy ignoring the shake in her limbs. Started sweating when he saw the geiger counter couldn’t go any higher. He couldn’t look her in the eye, couldn’t stop. He had to get her out of here now.

He ran for the door. It was locked, no handle and it was keypad operated. He kicked at the door, then the keypad, then what was left of the keypad, until finally the door opened. He ran up the hallway, up up up, to another door. Locked from the other side. Her geiger counter was still buzzing, quieting only slightly in comparison to the G.E.C.K. chamber. That was the door they came in, the only door that lead in and the only door out. He fell to his knees, started digging through the packs for radaway and rad-x. Placed a delirious Lone against the door, the farthest point from radiation and the quietest her counter could get. Ignored her groans when he held her arm still to roll up the sleeve and insert the needle. She seemed to come to, just a little bit.

“Fawks?” She was looking up aimlessly. He held her much smaller hand in his.

“I’m here love, I got you.” He grabbed some rad-x and purified water. “I need you to take this”. Lone scrunched up their face and groaned, but let him help them sit up, take the pills and then the water. Their eyes rolled down to their geiger counter.

“I guess the door is locked?” Lone looked very tired.

“Yes” he sighed.

“Fawks, if I don’t-”

“You’re gonna make it Lone” He leaned forward, his head against the door, body arching over Lone. What he wouldn’t give to put those few inches of lead between there and Lone.

“If I don’t” They spoke with a determination. “Don’t let the brotherhood horde this shit, yeah?” She smiled up at him, but her eyes didn’t seem to focus.

“I’ll make sure” He promised. He was crying, he knew.

“Hold me?” Her voice was so quiet.

“Of course love”. He gathered her in his arms. Tried not to sob more when her geiger counter started getting louder. He started talking to her, trying to keep her awake, keep her responsive, but she seemed to zone in and out.

He changed her radaway the second it was used up. He knew the side effects would be killer if she made it. If she made it. Did start sobbing when she yelped, pulled back at the feeling of the needle leaving her skin. She seemed confused.

“Lone, its Fawks, I’m right here. This is gonna hurt but you’ll be okay” She nodded slowly, he exposed the needle on the new radaway, slid it into her skin right where the last had been, held her arm still for it because she was crying and shaking. He just held her arm still and held her. He checked repeatedly if he could get the door to open, praying it was just a time lock, but it held fast. She cried more when he turned away to check, and he really just wanted to hold her.

He resolved to hold her, kiss her and igraine the smell of her hair into his memory. He kept trying to talk to her, got some sporadic half logical replies during the second bag of radaway. The geiger counter got louder, and they may as well have been back in the larger room. The third bag of radaway she was only able to sporadically say his name. He pressed kisses to her forehead, her brow, her nose her cheeks her lips her chin. Told her he loved her, over and over again. Halfway through the fourth bag, she stopped responding, and by the end of it her eyes had glazed over. He knew she was gone. He thought he was gonna lose his mind.

Two weeks later, the door opened. The world he stepped out into was green.

I think I mighta spelled fawks wrong but he can eat my a$$ about it.

#this is so well written #im sobbing tho #right in my feelings

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