It takes two to Tangle

by WinnerNotWonner

Summary:

This is my small rewrite of season one, leading into my predictions of a ghoulcy filled plot in season two.

Notes:

I do not own these characters.

Please Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Previously On… Fallout: Season 1, Ep. 4 ‘The Ghouls’

 

Lucy limped along the trail behind The Ghoul, rubble burning against the sole of her bare foot. Her baked flesh felt a throbbing mess, while sweat beaded along her brow, trickling down to meet her eyes.

 

If only the real sun had a dimmer switch, she thinks.

 

Her tired gaze drifts to her captor's back, following the confident stance of his shoulders down to the easy, hypnotic sway of his hips.

Stupid swaggering—A sharp sting pulls her back to the present. Ow ow ow — In an attempt to alleviate the weight off her injured foot, her other ankle rolled into a quick right angle."YIP!—" She squeaks—Her knees crumpled to the ground, jarring their progress forward to a sudden halt. Don’t scream. 

 

The ghoul stayed eerily quiet, despite her commotion, making no visible signs of reveling in her pain. 

He was tired if he was being honest. The bounty hunter nods slightly in a silent affirmation to the wind. I could use a break. He takes the excuse to stop, softly scanning the sandy plane before him. 

 

Lucy took her time breathing, checking her surroundings, her shoulders sagging with each deep exhale. There's nowhere to hide... And she doesn't think she can run anymore. So she swallows her pride...again. 

"Sir, please!" Her throat felt tight against the dry desert air. "I need to stop… and…and" she stopped, to think, "and to find a shoe!" She finished, her voice significantly higher.

She could mention needing water and her missing finger, but technically, those needs applied to both of them. 

 

He lets out a short huff of air. She's funny. "Sweetheart, where you're headed?" His head falls forward, inspecting the dull tips of his boots as he gently scuffs up dirt, "You won’t be needin’ shoes.” He looks up again to watch her reaction.

Lucy's low eyes cast a long look past her foe, worry pinched between her brows. What does that mean?

Pondering for too long, the Ghoul gives a sharp tug on the rope. He really didn't want to get rough with her again. But I could.

He releases a sharp, whistle. "Come' on." he barked.

 

She ignores him; MUCH to his annoyance.

 

Sinking into the earth by his molasses voice and choice of words. Lucy's body blooms in a brisk flame, down her chest and to her—

His voice.

That voice.

Do I know that voice—

She's delirious. Of course, she knows it.

It's the irritating voice of the monster, who's been taunting her for the past three days. Buuuut...

Like vulture over prey, his cadence keeps circling her thoughts, turning her insides, reminding her of...something.

 

He yanks her constraints again. Much harder this time.

Fuck—He almost groaned. Move dammit. Enough dilly dallying, honestly.

 

With the slight pull forward, Lucy is broken free from her dry spell —Right!

She gets back to the information at hand.

No shoes? A million implications play out before her.

Dead? No—if he wanted me dead, he would've done it already.

Her eyes fall shut with the rapid movement of her mind, muling a mile a minute, frantically flipping through memories.

Flashes of Betty's "EmpowHer Class" surface—

 

---

 

Betty walked steady with her hands clasped back.

She scanned over the room of young vault minds scribbling on the paper before them. 

Lucy’s legs hovered just above the floor, her feet swinging back and forth. Heels tapping a discordant rhythm against the legs of her chair. 

Her eyebrows knit together, intensely focused on each stroke of her pencil, striving for perfect handwriting.

The room, filled with only the soft scratch of lead on paper, grew impossibly still when the footsteps pacing in front of them stopped.

Betty had paused.

Lucy’s fast blinking eyes lifted to the front, awaiting the next passage.

Betty gave the children unwavering eye contact as she began, “In case of raiders or an evacuation of the vault,”  She said, “the scourge may find your ‘unaltered anatomy’ desirable....They may force themselves on you, or use you as a form of currency.”

Lucy felt a chorus of tingles rise in her chest, her mind scrambling to understand. 

Betty released a thoughtful sigh.

“Remember, they weren’t taught any better.” With a single curt nod, she signaled that she had finished.

Lucy and the other children bent their heads again, obediently transcribing the former Overseer’s lesson.

 

---

 

A sour, bitter tang leaked along the walls of her mouth. Sexual slavery. 

 

Her shoulders drew up, a run of heat flushing against her cheeks. “Just kill me already!” she hissed– daring him. Maybe begging.

 

Well well well—If he had eyebrows, they'd be sufficiently raised. Her challenge finally earned his full attention as he turned to saunter over.

Look who’s cracking,  A sly smirk curved around his southern twang. "Begging for death after a little heat and some bruises?" He mocks.

Cocking his head to the side, his gaze drifted over her, ending on the bleeding stump where her finger used to be. It was a clumsy bind, looking like loose mummy wrappings. He swallows the bile, quick to shoot up his throat. 

 

The Ghouls' penetrating eyes snapped back to hers in an instant, drawn by the dramatic despair.

“Whatever you have in mind..." he hears her say, “It can’t be good if shoes aren’t needed.”

She finishes flatly, bowing her head. She felt heavier and heavier by the second. 

 

A slow sideways smirk split shortly across his face. Well—

“Maybe I spoke too soon. Where you’re headed? There’s a whole CLOSET of shoes waitin’ for you." He punctuated his words with a sweeping hand through the dusty air. As if offering her some grand prize.

 

Lucy cocked her head, confusion clouding her condemned conclusion. A whole closet of shoes? The words spun, senseless. A joke she didn’t understand. Who needs a whole closet of shoes? She sputters—leaning away. “I mean it!” She shouts.

“I’m sure you do, Sweetheart!” he yelled over her—Resting his hands near his hips as he hunched closer to inspect the merchandise—Nine fingers, strong limbs, hardly any radiation—She’d fetch a pretty supply—that’s for sure.

 

She watched as he placed his thumb into the hook of his worn waistband. Bringing an expansive wave of wildish warmth waywardly wriggling its way- waist deep within her. Unwillingly—She's drawn to where his long fingers linger, framing himself as if well-endowed. She swallows. 

"I’m not gonna waste a perfectly intact specimen like you.” He said with a gesture down her body. He lifts his chin, specifically to look down on her. Showcasing a strong, elongated neck. 

 

Intact.

The word coiled in her mind, slowing down time.

 

The sun was sinking, spilling amber that coated the wasteland, glinting in her peripheral. She turned her head, facing the setting picture.  Realization struck her like a soothing, soulful safe haven.

The sunset—the real one— drowned the desert decay in light, transforming the barren world into something serene.

 

A memory flashed: her father’s face, frayed and far away.

He’d once told her that his mother wanted to look at the sky as she passed. Not the real sky, of course, just the projection inside the vault. The thought brings her own mother forward, surfacing and bringing a wistful smile across Lucy's lips. A longing she rarely let herself feel.

There'd been a weight on her chest until this point. Because maybe—

Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad place to die. To politely bow out.

The thought bloomed quietly, under the open sky. Here, where even the wasteland could hold a glimmer of grace. Where it wasn’t all gloom, doom, and darkness. 

 

His head tilted, catching the glint reflected in her filling eyes. A breeze swings by, tussling messy bangs across her forehead, framing a face that was so out of place in this wasteland. Such a pretty thing to crawl out of the ground. It was strange, seeing someone so perfectly imperfect out here. When was the last time he’d crossed paths with a vault dweller?

 

His mind drifted to their first encounter—how she had walked straight into danger seemingly without a second thought, just to ask for peace. Naive. Stupid, even.

Yet there had been something in that boldness, that absurd belief in good, that almost made him want to go along with it. Almost.

 

He remembered when words like please and thank you meant something. But the world of pleasantries has been lost to time.

A sudden image grasps hold of his thoughts: a small smile, two delicate hands tugging off his sunglasses to see his eyes.

His daughter.

Happy…alive…

He never remembered her like this, and it pierced through his defenses, painful in its purity. His hand finds his chin, lightly scratching a scab away before squatting down to startle the Vault-Tec propaganda kneeling before him.

 

Her wide eyes burn as he leans in close, their faces nearly touching. They would have been nose to-–

 

“Listen, sugar.” He said, his drawl flooding her insides in a heartbeat.

“I get it. You’re having a rough time, what with being held captive and all.” His tongue darted out, moistening his lips in a quick swipe.

“But your little pity party? It ain’t doin’ either of us any favo—hk” A sudden gust of wind had swept grit straight into his mouth, down his throat. Goddammit.

 

His lungs seized, the familiar burn ripping through his chest as he broke into a wet, hacking cough. Of course. Of course now.

 

His wet splatter of saliva smacked Lucy's face.

 

Gross, she grimaced, quickly wipping her cheek on her shoulder; thinking hard about what he said.

Dang it, he’s right. 

 

The truth of his taunt stung her pride, feeding the whispers of doubt that coiled around her mind: too soft for this world, too fragile to survive.

She gritted her teeth, forcing the thoughts away.

No. I've carved asses and taken heads. I can do this. She inwardly declared. 

 

Her gaze hardened on The Ghoul with target focus.

He was gagging, hunched and struggling to breathe. Fighting for his life against a dust bunny.

The intimidating figure she had feared moments ago suddenly seemed—

 

He swayed a bit, on his planted crouch, subtly moving his arm to cover his mouth. Lucy rose her bound hands and shoved him.

Gravity took over with humiliating ease. The impact didn’t even hurt—he’d been low to the ground already—but the shock of it left him reeling and wide-eyed.

He had no choice but to watch as the girl sprang to her feet and bolted, her silhouette cutting through the fading sunlight, her shadow stretching long and lean across the dusty terrain—and taking the goddamn lasso with her- God fucking dammit! 

A raw guttural yell tore from his throat. Stupid! Stupid!

 

He fumbled to his feet at monstrous speed. She can’t get far. Not with that foot.  

 

Lucy’s heart thundered in her ears; Only one desperate thought outpacing her: Run faster.

 

Five feet of rope trailed behind her, swinging tantalizingly close to his reach. Almost...

 

White-hot shots shoot up her heel, agony blooming deep in her flesh.

 

There it is. With a long leg dive, he closed the gap between him and her. A wicked exhilaration drived him forward arms outstretched–

Behind her the rope snapped taut, a vicious jolt that wrenched Lucy backward. Her legs flew out, her back hitting the earth with bone rattling force. She shuddered and gasped, a bitter taste of dust and blood coating her tongue.

 

“Where’re you goin’?” He said, The gruff voice slicing through her haze, focusing her through the swirl of dirt and disorientation. She spotted him—The Ghoul—crawling toward her like a relentless predator. 

 

The weird warmth from before unfurls in her abdomen, burning and twisting in ways that make no sense.

 “You ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he growled, using the rope as leverage to drag himself closer, inch by grueling inch. His eyes locked in on every detail of her sprawled form. Her legs lied splayed, in front of her, chest rising and falling rising and falling– Look at that mouth. Her bottom lip was red, swollen, abused from where she’d bitten it. 

He bet her lips would make a fine jerky.

 

 Focus. Focus. Her eyes shut tight, the ceaseless existence of heat threatening to swallow her whole. 

Her fingers fumble and fight with impossibly tight fiber biting her skin– “Come on... come on!” she cracks. She can’t let him win.

 

Each pull tightened the rope around his forearms, the rough line digging deeper into the worn leather of his jacket. His muscles quaked, every strained breath stirring something deeper, a pulsing ache that traveled up his thighs and pleasingly pooled there. Then—

 The Ghoul crashed down on her like a collapsing wall. His weight drives the air from her lungs in a strangled gasp. A groan rumbled from his throat as their bodies collide.

Lucy writhed beneath him as he pressed her powerfully into the dirt. Her bound hands are wretched taunt above her head, forcing her to arch her back.

He slid upward to sit on her torso, his legs digging painfully into her sides, pinning her in a possessive hold. 

 She thrashed, this way and that, though his weight stayed sadistically sated—stealing her strength with each of her brazenly blustered bid to break free.

This is getting deadly. Her head was spinning, ears on call waiting. She was fighting to draw in a full breath, but it was like trying to inhale through a straw. 

 

He watched her nostrils flare, before eyeballing the breasts heaving beneath the filthy hemline of her tank top. Her collarbone hollowed out with each shudder, the delicate line of it pronounced from the loss of oxygen– His mouth waters for something to eat, and his cock twitches.

She felt a feeling of respite from the relentless sun– the oppressive heat, as his shadow fell over her.  I can’t breathe. I can’t… Her mind scrambled through fragments of self-defense training, memories of wrestling with Chet flashing by in a blur. All the times she’d flip him over… 

He sensed a subtle shift in her hips, a warning before her leg started to slide up his side. The warm pressure of her thigh glided with purpose—He looked up, taking in the full extension of her leg, her toes pointed sharply toward the sky. He gulped— She’s flexible.

 Her left leg swung down, clumsy in clamping around his abdomen —using his own weight against him. 

A guttural grunt tore from his throat as his back slammed to the guiltless ground. Fuck me — Yellow and blue blur before him— A second grunt escapes from who knows who, together, their bodies twisted and turned in a chaotic tangled tango, the rope snaking around, locking like a livid living thing.

 

Lucy is panting, instincts taking over as she moved to shift to his midsection—but something kept her back. What the—?

She glanced back seeing the problem, her right leg was tangled with his left, twisted and knotted near his foot by the lasso. 

 Frustration flared, in an instant– but it got swallowed by a jubilant jolt of awareness.

The rough texture of his belt was digging into her thighs, and each subtle shift brought the seam of his pants to rub against her center, the curve fitting against her...  too ...perfectly.

 

 Heat prickled at the edge of her skin, and she closed her eyes at the unwanted sensation. Every movement, every attempt to free herself, only deepened the rut against him, sending an unwelcome shiver down her spine. Focus. Breathe. Escape. She needed to remind herself.

 This sweet shock was shooting signals straight through his cock. His hands twitched, aching to grab her to hold her in place, just for a moment.

Just move her...

just—

No.

Okay, she needs off! His mind wrestled with itself, his eyes shutting against the rush of pressure to his groin.  It’s been too long. The unbearable tension coiled low, tightening his sac until instinct drove him to thrust upward, seeking a home.

 

 The stiff bounce sent an unexpected ripple of pleasure through Lucy, shimmering across her body in a burst of brief bliss. This isn’t right. Her fingers flew to the loose rope, moving with swiftness despite the cumbersome weight of the Pip-Boy.

With a smart twist, she looped the rope around his neck, tightening it to a makeshift noose.

 

Panic ignited in the bounty hunter. BITCH. His mind shouted, while he clawed at the constricting loop. His fingers slipped and scrabbled uselessly against the restraint; his body bucking beneath her. 

 

 Lucy held firm, feeling every frantic movement, every desperate thrust as she pushed him back with relentless force. Each time he bounced her, heat pressed against him, her cockamamie core strength constantly commanding his challenging - Christ — He’s hard. Really hard.

 

 The friction sent waves of tension coursing through both of them, his mind splitting under the onslaught of panic and the disorienting sensation of her cunt pinning him down.

Through bleary eyes, he took her in. She knew. She fucking has to he thought.

 

 His bucking hips remind her of the mechanical bull the vault brought out for special parties— His erection can be indicative of an autoerotic asphyxiation kink. And?— Friction can cause a normal physiological response. The sterile information flashed through her mind as the warmth of his body beneath hers bemuses something deep inside her. Her cheeks flush a rousing rosy hue. This is inappropriate.

 

 He ignored his inflamed lungs in favor of studying her face. Her gaze was fierce, almost feral— She was enjoying this.

 She sure was—A raw, unrestrained provocative lust began to pulse through her, mingling with the adrenaline in her veins, making her feel invincible.

 

 He bucked again. To throw her off —Obviously to throw her off, but she met his every resistance with another deliberate roll of her hips. She’s a goddamn cowgirl he thought, just at his end, when his strength finally faltered. His vision began to blur at the edges. The world wanting to collapse into shadow.

The warm pink of the setting sun swallowed by a sudden, all-encompassing dark. She loomed above him—Finally, his angel of death.

Oh, how he's prayed for deliverance. 

The light caught her wild hair, haloing her in a way that did nothing to soften the intensity of those red-rimmed eyes. He’d never seen a total eclipse before. In all his 200+ years.

It was stunning. She’s stunning. His body betrayed him, giving another light buck of his hips—just— one… more time.

 The scent of her was, Earthy. He noted. Intoxicating. It filled his senses to the point of his mouth watering—His head growing heavy. His thoughts started to slip, unspooling as the rope tightened.

This... he mused, could be a good place... yeah... good place to die.

His breath was getting faint, a shallow rasp clawing for air, but it didn't matter. Everything's fine.

This is... fine.

A strange contentment seeped in, peaceful. The world felt distant, slipping away—Except... no...

He’d been here before.

Been strung up... plenty of times... more times—

Than he can count, His mind fought to stay focused, but the thoughts blur together, muddled by the lack of oxygen. This won't kill him.

Nothing ever does. 

 

Her grip was growing weak, already made difficult by bound hands. She’ll leave me unconscious, he thought.

The idea slams into him, making him... rigid, stiff with the sudden understanding.

Bugs after dark– crawling over his skin, radroaches looking for a meal. No. No fucking way.

Heart thumping slow, he had to admit it.

I need her.

 

With the rope still biting his throat, his hand shoots up to the noose. Fingers tapping frantically against the rough knot.

“Uncle,” he managed to choke out. Both syllables scraping raw.

Swallow it. Just get out of this. 

 

Normally, tapping out would make Lucy stop, but the word —“Uncle”— hung in the air.

Uncle?

The word rattled in her head, grasping for a connection that isn’t there.

What the hell does my uncle have to do with this? Confusion knitted her thoughts together as she tightened her grip on the rope.

“What are you saying?” she said.

 

Hell

His vision was swimming. Lucy’s face blurring into a surreal haze of sunset and shadow.

It means you win, Vaultie! Words tangled and slipped through his mind. He had one last chance at this. 

“Mmmercy,” he said, the word barely more than a whisper before his body went slack, surrendering as consciousness slipped away.

 Lucy instantly let go, her fingers unfurling as if burned. “Mercy,” she echoed. 

The word rolled off her tongue with an odd sense of calm. Her chest rose and fell, air rushing back into her lungs as she realized just how tightly she’d been clinging on. That was… close.

 

She looked down at The Ghoul lying motionless beneath her, his body still and unthreatening.

That could’ve gone worse. The weight of the thought settled heavily in her chest, surprising her. She didn’t want to kill anyone— Never!  If she could help it— And dangerous or not, this creature belonged to that broad, fragile category of anyone. 

Gratitude swelled for his humility. He’d said it. Mercy. If he hadn’t, if he’d stayed silent… The rope might’ve kept tightening. A stiff shudder finds its way up her spine. He’s fine. I’m fine.

She forced the thoughts aside, shaking it off as she glanced at him once more. 

Trembling fingers pressed against his neck, desperate to find a pulse. He should have one, right? The question flickered nervously through her mind. There has to be one... There! It was a faint, fragile beat, but undeniably present.

Relief surged through her, so overwhelming it knocked her backward. Slumped to a comfortable spot on top of him. Thank goodness, she thought. She let herself breathe, watching him for any signs of stirring.

 

Her eyes traced the sharp, jagged lines of his face, his moltted, red skin was stretched tight over the contours of his muscle and bone, sculpting a rugged, almost demonic visage. There were scars criss-crossing his features—some deep, others faded—Where his nose should have been, there was only a dark, sunken void, with deep hollows beneath his eyes, paired with his hairless scalp, completing his ghastly image.

 

And yet, as unsettling as he looked, there’s something almost peaceful about him at this moment.

When he’s not being rude and vile… She lingered on the thought, He almost looks... human.

With her bound hands, fingertips brush across his cheekbone. Oh… Surprise shot through her the instant their skin met. He’s soft. Softer than she’d imagined for someone so marred and scarred.

A thrill spiraled up her spine as she traced the sharp contours of his face, her fingers exploring the paradox of his rough appearance . How can he look so harsh yet feel... like this?

The sensation sparked something strange, something scandalously stimulating. 

For a monster, she mused, he’s surprisingly attractive.

The thought slipped in unbidden, trailing a flush of heat she couldn’t quite explain. Her brow furrowed. Attractive?

The notion felt absurd, laughable, yet there was an undeniable truth she couldn’t shake. Suddenly, she became all too aware of their closeness—Him—still nestled between her legs. 

An attractive monster. As if that changes anything.

 She tried to shake the thought away, knowing it's ridiculousness, as she only had Roger to compare him to. Roger. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. You’re not being very nice to Roger. 

 

She needed to pinch herself as a sharp reminder of the ghoul’s past actions—or even five minutes ago— He cut off my finger. The weight of his violence settled back into her bones.

The memory seared in vivid detail. The raw sting, and the echo of blood that still lingered on her tongue.

 The twisted irony of it all—It was “The Golden Rule” in action. I took his finger, so he took mine.   

 An uncontrollable cackle burst from her chest. The memory of his eyes flashing in her mind—amber-fleck locking onto hers.

"Now that right there is the closest thing we’ve had to an honest exchange so far,"  

She remembered his voice, the lazy twang curling around the words, doing awful things to her insides. The thought then only fueled more laughter, making it even more manic, a strange, electric energy she couldn’t rein in.

 Stop...

But she can’t. Each burst of laughter spiraled her further away from control, tremors rippling through her limbs and rocking both her…and him.

 

 His eyes began to slowly blink open as he instinctively inhaled the savory rare full breath of air. As the haze was clearing, his senses sharpened bit by bit– The rope is gone. 

Of course it is. He didn’t linger on the thought, not in the mood to unpack her benevolence. 

He felt her weight still pressed against him, kicking in an old reflex. Large hands move to her hips, gripping them to stop the slight, maddening movements. It's too much... He groaned.

Her shifting sway sent a ripple of pleasure throughout him, his body betraying his desperate grasp on control as he hardened again. Fuck

 Lucy’s laughter died abruptly when hands found her hips. Is he going to try something?

Her stomach flipped, heart pounding against her ribs as she became acutely aware of the hardening appendage.

Every muscle tensed, instincts screaming at her to move, to shove him off, to act.

But she doesn’t. She stayed still, frozen, waiting... and maybe even wanting.

And so does he.

 

The grip on her hips was firm, with no pull to draw her closer, or shove to push her away, the weight of his hands felt heavy, not hostile, like a boundary he was unwilling to cross.

She studied his face, taking in the way his features twist in concentration, as though he was trying to ease some unseen pain. His eyes were squeezed shut, jaw clenched, every line of his expression etched with effort. 

 I can smell her. Heady and distracting, it was clouding his mind. When he finally opened his eyes, they locked onto Lucy’s, her studious gaze searching his face. The intensity of it held him captive.

 Beneath that weathered exterior, something flickered, A twinkle, defiant and alive. Prompting a question that slipped from her lips before she could catch it. “What’s your name?”  

 

“Cooper.”

 

The sound of his own name startled him. Slipping out before he even realized he was speaking.

The name felt foreign, like an ancient relic unearthed from a forgotten past, and he was almost shocked he still remembered it. How many years had it been since I last said it out loud?

 She flashed him a bright smile, the perfect picture of a Vault-Tec poster girl— All she needs is a thumbs-up.

 “Oh! Like Cooper Howard!” she said.

 His full name slammed into him like a cold punch to the gut. No.

He couldn't hide the flicker of panic that surged through him, the memory of a life long buried threatening to surface.

She couldn’t possibly know . There wasn’t any mockery in her tone, but it didn't stop the harsh reply from slipping out.

"What? " He said through gritted teeth.

 

Lucy’s smile remained, her words flowing easily. "Cooper Howard was a pre-war actor. We have all his movies in the vault." 

Memories of old daydreams involving the actor flickered through her mind as she quickly shook her head in an attempt to dispel the warm flush crawling and creeping up her neck. Great, just what I need, she thought, more kindle for the fire of my ill-timed arousal.

 A bitter edge sharpened in Cooper’s thoughts as her words sunk in. Of course they’ve got my movies in the stupid. Fucking. Vaults. The irony twisted his guts, his name, his face, preserved in a place he never wanted to be a part of. Perfect. They probably laugh at them. 

 

The novelty of having a beautiful woman on his lap was beginning to wear thin.

Despite Lucy’s seemingly innocent demeanor, it was getting harder to ignore the situation.

He fought the urge to roll his hips, shifting slightly to ease the building pressure. Words slipped out before he could stop them. “Not that havin’ you on my dick ain’t fun, but you planning on gettin’ off me anytime soon?”

The terse tone felt like a flimsy cover for the irritation simmering beneath the surface, while a part of him secretly hoped she’d squirm at the mention of his… unmentionables .

 But Lucy responded with a deliberate roll of her hips, pressing herself into him with a slow, teasing drag.

Unexpectedly. Undeniably. Unfazed by his cock talk, she shot back up, a playful grin curving at her lips. “Well, not that I don’t enjoy sitting on your lap, but in case you haven’t noticed, we’re a bit tied up,” she said, gesturing at their tangled legs.

Then she lowered herself again, this time with a firm press.

She caught it—the way his eyes fluttered shut for the briefest of moments, his breath hitching, the subtle twitch of his jaw as he gritted his teeth.

 His eyes snapped back open, fixing her with a lethal gaze.

 

An electric thrill shot through her, I did that, she realized, a giddy tingle blooming deep in her core. His fingers pressed harder, gripping her with enough force to leave a mark. The pressure sent heat through her veins, leaving her wanting, needing even more.

 Cooper’s eyes were nearly black. His grip halting her motion before she could push things any further. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

He ignored her quip, though the teasing lilt only added to the confusion swirling in his mind. 

Either she’s playing me to get on my good side, or she’s got the fastest hand in the west of Stockholm. 

 Propping himself up on his forearms, Cooper glanced behind her. “Well, I hadn’t noticed,” he said bitterly, scanning the entanglement. 

 

 Lucy raised her bound wrists between them. “If you untie me, I can help us get untangled faster.”

Her eyes flickered to his, searching for any hint of agreement, her sincerity almost disarming.

 He cast her a sidelong glance, her words barely sinking in before he promptly shook his head. “Nice try.” he said with a smirk. 

Without warning, he re-gripped her hips, using an unnecessary amount of strength and leverage to pull himself forward toward the bindings.

 Lucy let out a small, involuntary squeak as she was lifted, then pulled back into place–against his bulge. “Oh-okie dokie,” she said, in a breathy, concealed moan.

 

His focus was split between the sharp pain of her Pip-Boy digging into his chest and the grinding pressure between them.

He kept his mouth wired shut, shifting forward, desperate to free them both. 

One arm is wrapped tightly around her, holding her steady—which was unnecessary and most definitely making everything worse.  

He lunged forward again and again, his free hand "grasping" for the bindings, but each movement pressed their bodies together, drawing them even closer.

Again. And again.

Maybe just do it one more time.  

Again.

 

She was flustered.

This is too much. Her thoughts raced, I can’t—

Her body betrayed her, each drag of his hips sent a burst of heat through to her sweet spot.

 

She shook her head, and swallowed the urge to let things spiral further.

“I’ve got an idea,” she managed, exhaling a long, shaky breath.

She gently moved her torso against his, pushing him upright to create a bit of distance.

 

He let her guide him without resistance, and relief flooded through her. Thank goodness. 

 

Their bodies began to cool the moment she lifted her thighs. Easing as much weight off his lap as the bindings would allow.

Yet, as soon as the pressure eased, she hissed, a pulse jolting through her cunt from the sudden absence. 

 

Cooper's breath escapes in sharp exhales, his head leaning back slightly.

Thank fuck—

At least one of them had some willpower. His jaw tightens, the sudden cold against his crotch jarring and at odds with the desert heat pressing in from all sides.

He shifts uncomfortably, trying to readjust, but nothing felt right.

 

She stretched her bound arms over his head, brushing past where his hat used to rest.

The absence of it barely registered in his mind as her arms came to rest on his shoulders.

 

Cooper caught more of her scent, more detailed.

Radiation… sweat… slick skin… adrenaline… river water.

He could lean forward, close the distance, and reach the ropes with only a breath of air separating them.

Just lean in, make it quick.

But he doesn’t.

He hovers there, suspended between instinct and restraint, teetering on the edge of giving in to the primal pull of human connection. It’s been so long since he’s let anyone get this close.

People don’t exactly line up to hug cannibal cowboys, you know?

 

He can’t blame them.

Walking poison an’ all.

The potential health risks for the vault dweller only crosses his mind briefly.

If she hasn’t figured it out by now, that’s her problem, not mine. 

 

But before he can decide whether to give in, Lucy takes the lead.

Her arms pull him in with a gentle force, and he finds himself folding into her embrace.

His head rests against her like it’s where he’s meant to be. His arms—wrapping fully around her, holding her close. 

You're a stupid stupid man.

 

His embrace enveloped her.

There was a rugged strength in the way he held her, his grip hesitant, almost as if he wasn’t sure he should be doing this.

She shifted slightly, letting her full weight settle back to his lap.

A small, surprised grunt escaped Cooper as she pressed down, and the sound sent a thrill through her.

Oh. Her cheek came to rest against his bare scalp, a flood of conflicting emotions rushing through her. I want more.

The thought burned inside her, a desire to hear him make more of those raw, vulnerable sounds.

 

There’s a surprising thrill in being so close to someone so dangerous.

I should be scared. The thought flickers in her mind, but it’s drowned out by the squeezing of his arms.

The sheer intensity of his presence sent a shiver cascading down her spine, her body reacting before her mind could catch up.

 

Slow. She begins to roll her hips.

 

He kept his face buried in the crook of her neck, his breath warm against her skin, as he began to move with her.

God, she’s burning up.

The heat radiating from his body must be cooking her from the inside.

 

Lucy trembled in his hold.

This—this is good.

Her fingers dug into his bare scalp.

This is insane.

 

Her lower half moved in small, deliberate rolls, each movement a controlled force that drew her deeper into the moment.

I should stop—

Her mouth fell open, a broken moan escaping.

“This is wrong…” she said, her lips brushing the top of his head, her hot exhale ghosting over his skin.

 

“Shut up,” he said, his voice rough and wet against her neck.

His eyes stayed closed, his arms sliding down to lift her ass, moving her in tighter. He began guiding their rhythm, taking control of the movements.

Fuck, fuck, fuck—

 

His mind reeled, but his body craved more.

His length pressed against her, sliding along the curve of her body, his control slipping with every motion.

Can’t believe I’m gonna cum in my pants like a teenager.

An easy fix for sure but he doesn’t pull back. He can’t. 

 

Lucy’s mind raced, her body betraying every rational thought.

It was too hot, too much —

The heat from his body, from their clothes—

But she couldn’t stop moving, every inch of her pressing closer, craving more.

So close. So very close.

This is wrong– Her Father's disapproving face flashed in her mind.

 

“STOP!” The word tore from her, and just as quick— his hold on her vanished.

 

She fell back slightly, her bound hands catching awkwardly around his neck.

Her brow furrowed in surprise as she took him in: his arms spread wide, as if touching her might scorch him, his face was unreadable, his heavy breaths echoing in the charged silence.

 

Her stomach flipped. He actually stopped.

His broad shoulders rose and fell, and she could see the raw effort of his restraint, every muscle tense with unspent energy.

She let out a shaky exhale, “What are you doing?” It was a foolish question, but in the moment, she felt utterly foolish. 

 

Cooper’s brow furrowed. Wha?– “You told me to stop?” he said.

 

Right...

But now that he had—

 

Her gaze lingered on his hardened expression, watching the way his jaw shifted. Strong and defined, it gave him a sense of rugged nobility, an unbreakable defiance that made him unexpectedly handsome. 

His arms began to lower, and a sudden worry bloomed in her chest— was that it? Had she killed the mood.

“Well... you told me to shut up,” she said.

 

He gave a brief slack jawed pause before rolling his eyes.

He moves bringing his arms back around her, one hand pressing firmly against the small of her back, pulling her in with a strength that left no room for doubt.

While his other hand found the back of her neck, fingers tangling roughly in her hair.

 

He leaned in, lips grazing her skin before latching onto her neck, the pressure intensifying as he began to suck, intent on leaving his mark.

The scrape of his teeth followed, rough and unpolished.

 

Lucy’s head fell back, A loud moan escaping her as his teeth grazed the newly sensitive spot.

Her hips stuttering, waves of pleasure reemerging. 

 

Cooper’s movements grew frenzied as he sought his release, desperation threading through every shift of his body.

He pulled away from her neck, burying his face in the swell of her breasts.

A rough, guttural grunt tore from his throat, his mouth falling open as he swiped his tongue across the slick line of sweat between her cleavage. 

 

Her eyes widened in shock.

Holy Moly!

 

The taste sent another wave of need crashing through him, and he bit down hard on his bottom lip, fighting for control—

This is it

 

His hips jolted as a sudden, warm burst drenched through his old, worn pants, the wetness spreading in uncontrollable spurts that left him startled and cursing.

“Fuck yes—thank you—” 

The words tumbling out in a low, desperate tone. He thrusted up again.

“Thank you–”

Shut up, shut up, shut up! 

 

Lucy doesn't just hear it, she feels it.

The muffled moan against her chest, the way his hips give that final, out-of-tune thrust.

The movement of him finishing, the last thump of his body against hers, makes her quake inside.

Tightening around nothing but possibility.

Her mind races.

His cock… spent…—a child, the future of America...   

 

She rubbed herself against him once more, that sick thrill burning hot in her stomach.

Then she stopped, grinding down hard, chasing the edge that had her heart racing.

Don’t stop.

 

Her body moved on its own, her breath coming out ragged as the wave of pleasure built beneath her skin.

Yes-yes- 

 

Her head fell back forward, resting her cheek on his head.

She pulled him in closer, most likely suffocating him with her chest.

The pressure and heat coiled tighter and tighter—-

Tighter!

Until the release came—a pulse of white hot gratification that flooded through her. All spasming and dancing around her pulsating clit. I’m cumming—

 

Her moan rose into the oncoming night, echoing into the space around them. “ Ahuhghh –”

 

Cooper was ready to die between her breasts.

His mind is hazy, content in the moment. Then he hears it—

The most mouth-watering moan, a sound that comes from deep within her, like she’s both pleasure-seeking and dying at the same time.

Jesus.

 

His pants are damp, uncomfortable, clinging to his skin in a way that makes him all too aware of her warmth, slick seeping through the fabric of her jumpsuit.

 

Lucy’s face flushes deeply—

Wow — She tries to keep her focus straight ahead, eyes not wanting to meet his, but her arms stay draped around Cooper’s neck, unable to break the connection just yet.

Too much, too fast.

But... gosh.

Her breathing is erratic, trying to catch up to what just happened, her pulse pounding in her ears.

She takes a sharp breath in through her nose, and the sting of metallic air hits her senses hard.

 

Cooper shifts slightly beneath her, his body still buzzing.

His breath is uneven, the scent of sweat and dust clinging to them both. He doesn’t want to move. Though—

For someone who had just been strangled, Cooper had managed to hold on for a while before his lungs began to seize.

He hacks, Fuck. Not ag– 

His chest tightens, but what catches him off guard isn’t the pain— it’s her.

 

 Lucy doesn’t pull away like he expects.

She doesn’t recoil in disgust, irritated by his struggle.

Instead, she adjusts her embrace around him. Her finger tips find the back of his neck, stroking gently, cool against the fevered heat radiating from his skin.

Soft whispers drift into his ears—words he can barely make out through the haze of pain, but it’s not the words that matter.

It’s the tone. Gentle. Soothing. Damn it .

Her voice was calming him in a way he couldn’t explain, and before he knew it, he was leaning into it, letting her take the weight of his struggle. 

 

He continued to choke into her embrace, his eyes watering.

Vials. I need vials.

The thought stabbed at him. He opened his eyes but stayed still, his face twisting into a small, almost pained frown.

But they’re gone… filled with a sense of loss and dread. It’s her fault.

His jaw clenched, and bitterness seeped into his thoughts.

I still need to sell her.

The idea twisted uncomfortably in his mind, leaving a sour taste in his mouth, but it held firm.

 

The last 24 hours had been brutal—physically, mentally, and emotionally.

And a giant part of that was because of him. Lucy reflected, a twinge of bitterness threading through her thoughts.

Can’t believe I just did that.

She wasn’t a stranger to unhealthy coping mechanisms, and she knew this one would come back to haunt her.

But right now, with exhaustion sinking deep into her bones. She was willing to let it slide. Just this once.

 

She held him patiently, waiting as his coughing gradually subsided.

Each second stretched painfully long, but she just hummed softly, the sound low and soothing.

A warm flush spread across her cheeks—He doesn’t want that.

Not from me.

She suspected he wouldn’t appreciate being coddled. But the desire lingered nonetheless.

 

As the tension in his body began to ease, Her fingers brushed against his rough scalp in a gentle, lingering caress, the tenderness feeling dangerously vulnerable.

Realizing what she was doing, she started to pull away.

 

Cooper didn’t resist her retreat. He swallowed hard. This did need to end. 

 

Lucy clung to the hope that this newfound intimacy might be enough to break down his walls.

We’re closer now, right? Surely, he didn’t need to keep her tied up anymore.

 

Her fingers twitched, the rope biting into her wrists—a physical reminder of the power imbalance between them.

“So, about untying me?” she said, her voice soft but pointed. 

 

A small wave of vindication washed over Cooper.

I knew it.

She’d been working an angle. All of this, just to make him let her go.

The realization settled in his gut, sour and cold, sharpening every suspicion he’d harbored. For a moment, a flicker of pity stirred for her, but it quickly curdled into something darker, something resentful and raw.

Fine— he thought. I’ll take it if she’s offering.

 

Calmer than he had any right to be, Cooper tilted his head up, his lips brushing against her jaw.

The contact was brief, but the shiver that coursed through her was anything but.

The bitterness twisted deeper inside him, and he hovered near her ear, his breath warm and taunting.

“Why would I let you go,” he said, “when you fit so damn well in my wicked grasp?”

 

Lucy smiled faintly, a thrill sparking through her, unexpected and dangerously enticing.

What is this—

The way he teased her, the rough warmth in his voice, stirred something deep inside, something she shouldn't like but couldn't deny.

This isn’t me, she tried to remind herself.

I’ve always wanted the hero.

The thought lingered, hanging in her mind like a stubborn echo.

She chuckled softly, hoping to lighten the moment and regain some control, gently swaying him in her arms.

“It’s what Cooper Howard would do,” she said.

 

The instant the words left her lips, she knew she’d made a mistake.

The air had shifted, tension crackling between them as the name slipped into the space.

 

His muscles locked up tight, every nerve flaring like a warning to surrounding prey—

Cooper fucking howard.

 

He can feel her weight pressing into him, like a trap. 

 

“Fucking–” cooper howard — Without thinking it through, he grips her harder than had before, pushing her backward. He hears the sharp intake of breath, feeling the twinge that jerks through her hip from pain.

He doesn't care—

 

The ropes pull taut in his hands. He focuses on the bindings, trying to block out the fact that her arms are still draped around his neck.

His hands work methodically, loosening each knot, but his mind isn’t nearly as composed.

It’s tangled up in her—wrapped in the sensation of her body shifting against his.

As he finally unravels the ropes, their legs untangle too, leaving them to become face to face. His eyes meet hers. 

 

His hand moves on its own, fingers wrapping around her chin—rough, calloused, and harder than he meant to.

Shut her up.

The command echoes in his mind, because he’s not ready to face whatever else she might say. He doesn’t want to hear, “What’s wrong?”

 

Her skin burned under his touch, but not in a way that felt good.

She wanted to pull back, to put distance between them, but his face was too close, leaving her nowhere to hide from the fury blazing in his gaze.

 

The anger that had flared in her chest softened, just for a moment, as her eyes flicked to his mouth.

The shape of his lips, the rough way his breath escaped, made something twist inside her. Desire.

Unwanted, unwelcome, it twisted through her, leaving her ashamed.

She hated herself for even thinking about it, for the way her body betrayed her in this moment of danger.

 

“Do I look like Cooper fucking Howard to you?” he said.

 

Her eyes narrowed, heat rising in her chest.

Seriously? That’s what this was about?

Her irritation sparked sharper now, flaring into disbelief.

All because I mentioned another man?

A bitter laugh almost bubbled up, but she swallowed it down.

Grow up.

 

Before she could speak, his hands lifted her off his lap—too fast, too sudden.

What the— Her thoughts scattered as the world tilted, and her back hit the ground.

Shock rippled through her, leaving her stunned. Did he just— Her mind reeled. 

Her body aches, but it’s nothing compared to the sharp sting of humiliation that burns in her chest. 

 

Staring up at the sky, she forces herself to sit up.

You’re fine. You’re okay.

But as she shifts, the uncomfortable wetness soaking her underwear makes her grimace, her cheeks burning.

She glances over at him—he’s already on his feet, dusting off his clothes like nothing had happened.

The smoothness of his movements makes her blood boil.

Asshole.

 

By the time she gathers herself, the ropes have fallen away, and his hand is re-gripping the leash. 

 

Cooper—or rather, The Ghoul—bends down to retrieve his hat, all part of the grand performance as he dusts it off.

He can feel her eyes on him— He straightens, feeling the unpleasant, sticky discomfort drying in his trousers.

He keeps his expression neutral.

 

Taking his time walking back, the gravel crunching beneath his boots.

He lets his shadow stretch over her, looming like the threat it’s meant to be.

 

Her pulse quickens.

It wasn’t just the way he was looking at her—it was the way he carried himself, that rough, commanding presence that sent her nerves skittering.

 

His eyes lock onto hers with an intensity that makes her feel exposed—like he can read every thought she’s trying to hide.

She tries to hold her ground, but her lips betray her, a soft pout settling in place without her permission.

 

Damn... that pout’s got a whole new meaning now.

He doesn’t let it show, not fully, but something flickers in his chest—

She’s staring too hard now, like she’s trying to peel back his skin and see something buried deep beneath, something he’s kept locked away for good reason.

 

Her gaze flickers, and she’s caught it—the faintest twinkle in his eye that he didn't mean to show. 

 

A strange sense of déjà vu slithered through her.

Where have I seen his face before?

Her gaze skimmed over the sunken cheeks, the raw, peeled skin, the grotesque gap where a nose should have been.

It was monstrous, nightmarish. But something tugged at her memory— I know him... don’t I?

 

Her eyes traced the familiar crinkled lines at the corners of his eyes, the almost imperceptible curl at the edge of his mouth.

It was a distorted echo of a face she once knew by heart, a face that had flickered across her radiation king television.

Her breath hitched, a slow burn of recognition creeping into her chest, tightening like a knot.

No. It can’t be him.

But the familiar tilt of his features, the ghost of expressions she’d memorized long ago…

 

And then it came, that voice. Low and gravelly, scratching the inside of her ears, unmistakably carrying the Southern accent she’d fantasized about her whole life.

 

“Well, darlin', we better get movin' if we want to make it to the shoe store by morning,” he said. The words steeped in a twang that hit her like a lightning strike.

 

This doesn’t make any sense.

That voice, that infuriating smirk—it crashed over her like a wave, dragging her down into the undertow of an impossible truth.

This may be Cooper Howard.

 

Notes:

What do you think Lucy and The Ghoul have in store for them in season 2?

Chapter 2: Previously On… Fallout: Season 1, Ep. 4 ‘The Ghoul’

Notes:

Please enjoy!

Chilled night air grew sharp with teeth, gnawing at Lucy’s bones.

The Ghoul’s decision to push on for another hour felt like a punishment and the cold only reinforced that feeling.

 

When they stumbled upon a crumbling structure, relief surged through Lucy, her knees nearly giving out.

The makeshift shelter—a few fractured walls and a slanted, half-collapsed roof—wasn’t much, but it was something. It would shield them from the worst of the wind and the vast darkness.

And anything was better than the freezing, open wasteland.

 

Lucy’s teeth won't stop chattering, the sound becoming grating in the heavy silence.

 

Cooper rolls his eyes beneath the brim of his hat. His hand tightening around the rope that kept her tied five feet away.

Five feet’s not enough. He tells himself.

He could hear every labored breath she took, each exhale escaping in soft squeaks and gasps whenever her body shuddered from the cold. 

 

 It had been hours, but the image of her still burned vividly in his mind: the way she’d looked, the way she’d moved—her thighs clamping down, riding him until he— Damn it.

The memory refused to fade, and heat pooled low in his gut, his body betraying him with a subtle twitch that made him curse at himself. He imagined himself offering her warmth.

You could just mosey on over to my side, sweetheart, he thinks, the words smooth and casual, as if he wasn't thinking about the weight of her body against his, the way her breath had hitched when she’d found her release.

His lips almost twitch.

 

Then her voice cut through his wandering thoughts like a blade: “Because that’s what Cooper Howard would do.”

His good humor vanished, with a newly tightened lip.

Just like that, he was pissed again.

 

 Lucy, thankfully, hadn't mentioned any of what happened. Not the sexual rodeo, or the soothing words he couldn't quite make out, whispered above his ear.

Part of him was relieved; the other part—well, he wasn’t sure what to feel.

Good. He thinks.  I don’t want to talk about it anyway.

 

But something did nag at him—she hadn’t said much of anything since the rodeo.

Silent treatment? he wondered, eyes narrowing beneath his hat.

Figures. 

 

Lucy actually wasn’t one for weaponizing anything. She simply didn’t realize how her silence pressed so heavily on him. Didn’t notice how it wrapped around him like an unwanted, stifling shroud.

 

Cooper wasn’t a good man.

Everything she’d seen of him so far pointed to that. Brash and violent. Hardly the kind of person who’d ever be responsible, let alone someone you’d want anywhere near the concept of family or reproduction.

But…

The way he’d held her. Just for that split second, he’d seemed almost human.

She rolled her eyes at the thought.

 

Flat on her back, she felt the coarse sand shifting beneath her, tiny grains sneaking into the seams of her jumpsuit, scratching at her skin. The cold had ahold of her bare left foot. Her toes stiff and nearly numb, Lucy's eyes fixed on the night sky above, fractured by the jagged tears in the shelter’s roof, but the beauty of the stars did nothing to calm her spiraling thoughts.

 

He couldn’t be Cooper Howard.

The name felt absurd in her mind. What were the odds?

Her father’s favorite actor—an old-world icon—is somehow still alive?

It seemed laughable.

No one survived this long. No one but the monsters.

 

She replayed fragments of movies, and tried to reconcile the man beside her with the hero from her memories.

Cooper Howard. A figure of charm and noble bravado, a beacon of hope on a flickering screen.

Everything this man is not. Her lips curl into a faint, grimace.

The Ghoul—rough-edged, dangerous, and scarred—

He was nothing like the fantasy she clung to, nothing like the idolized hero she’d once dreamed about.

 

The thought twisted her insides as she pondered the improbable.

Can ghouls really live that long?

It was a question that bordered on the fantastical, so absurd that it almost hurt to think about. But then again, this world defied logic at every turn.

 

“Twenty-eight years,” Roger’s voice whispered through her memory, like a ghost lingering in the dark. That brief conversation resurfaced, winding itself around her doubts.

“Twenty-eight years before showing”.

But two hundred years… That couldn’t be possible, She bit her lip until she tasted a hint of iron. Nothing made sense.

 

Lying on her sandy mound, Lucy tore her gaze from the stars and shifted her attention to the man lying a few feet away.

Recognition, unease, and something close to desire stirred inside her, a knot tightening in her gut.

He looked like a villain straight out of one of those old films.

With that thought it would seem like she’s made up her mind. 

She sighed, What would happen if I treated him like he was Cooper Howard?

The question whispered through her mind. But a moment later, she corrected herself.

If I treated him like he was a man, not a monster. 

 

“Smoothies can be so unkind.” Roger’s words surfaced, a strange clarity in the middle of her racing thoughts. 

 

The Golden Rule—do unto others... It was a principle she’d clung to, even when the world crumbled around her. But the dull ache where her finger used to be served as a cruel reminder of how quickly abandoning her values had cost her. 

 

A harsh shiver tore through her, this one so fierce it felt like splinters of ice cracking beneath her skin.

She clenched her jaw, but a small, involuntary moan slipped through her chattering teeth. Her bound hands pressed tighter against her body, desperate to trap what little warmth she had left. Her muscles ached from the relentless cold, and a frustrated tear burned in the corner of her eye.

I hate this.

 

A heavy sigh cut through the quiet, loud and dramatic enough to break her focus. The sound was so out of place, echoing in the heavy stillness, that she froze.

Loud enough… He must be awake.

Her eyes flicked over to where The Ghoul—or Cooper , as she had reluctantly started to think of him again—lay a few feet away.

His body remained motionless, the brim of his hat casting a shadow over his face, but that sigh had been unmistakable.

Her pulse quickened, a small thrill of apprehension curling about in her stomach.

 

"Cooper," she whispers. She doesn’t want to wake him if she’s wrong.

 

Damn it.

He hadn’t been expecting that—just hearing her say his name like that, soft and tender. It felt...

She didn’t even need to bring up what happened earlier; the sound of his name was enough to stir up everything he’d been trying to bury.

 

He swallows hard, He didn’t want to deal with this—didn’t want her thinking there was anything to be had between them.

He needs to put an end to this.

 

“Yeah, darlin’?”

Fuck.

The endearment slipped out, and he immediately regretted it.

What the hell was that? The usual edge in his voice had softened, and he’d even let a sweet sayin' slide past his lips.

You soft-bellied–

 

Lucy lingered.

What would she say to Cooper Howard, the actor, the hero.

Not The Ghoul lying a few feet away, but the man she’d seen on vault movie screens.

What would I say to him?

Imagining not for the first time, she would be...

Polite, direct, maybe even a little flirty, she mused.

It was strange, trying to reconcile the man in front of her with the image she’d built up in her head.

Would he respond?

She doubted it—Cooper Howard was a long-lost relic of the past, a fantasy—

 

“I was just thinking,” Lucy began, Her teeth caught her lower lip, and she hesitated, remembering with vivid clarity just how warm Cooper’s body had been.

“That I’m cold, and if you were cold… would you like to cuddle for warmth?” She rushed the last part out, her cheeks flushing.  

 

Cooper couldn't stifle the deep chuckle that bubbled up from within him.

There's the vault dweller I first met. He thinks. Straight to the fucking point.

She's asking to cuddle. The simple sensibility of it touched something deep within him.

How can I say no to that?

 

If Cooper had removed his hat, he would have seen Lucy blush, her cheeks tinting with a delicate pink.

She didn't feel mocked or ridiculed.

No, the low-pitched sound of his laugh filled her with a warmth that spread through her being, easing the chill of the night.

Lucy sat up, her heart fluttering, not daring to move toward him.

 

Cooper noticed the slight movement on her part, his senses alert to any shift in their shared space.

Say yes, he instructed himself.

"They sayin's, huddle for warmth," he said.

 Coward.

 

"I meant what I said," she replied.

 

Say yes.

It felt simple enough—just one word, just a small concession—

I’m not here to comfort her, He reminds himself. And besides—

She’s only asking because she wants something.

Lucy wasn’t as naive as she appeared. This request to be close, this vulnerability, had to be a calculated move, a way to soften him up, to worm her way into his good graces and, eventually, earn her freedom.

 

The realization coiled inside him like barbed wire, scraping against old wounds he didn’t want to acknowledge.

Cooper Howard had been used before, played for a fool when he’d let his guard down. His jaw clenched, the tension in his muscles a painful reminder of how much he’d lost by being too trusting. He couldn’t afford to slip now, not even a little.

Especially not for someone who might only see him as a monster she could manipulate or tame.

 

He exhaled slowly, the temptation to give in still thrumming in his veins, but suspicion hardened his resolve.

I’m not that gullible. Not that desperate.

“No.” He said. 

 

 Lucy’s brow furrowed, her lips pressing into a small pout.

She laid back, her gaze drifting up to the night sky. 

His refusal stung, not because she’d expected him to say yes, but because of the way his earlier warmth had softened her guard.

Now, with the cold pressing in on her, she realized how foolish she’d been. His brief softness had been a fluke, nothing more.

 

Cooper waited for her to argue, to lash out or complain—but she didn’t.

Disappointment twisted through him.

He’d braced himself for her defiance, for that familiar spark of stubborn fire, and its absence left a hollow ache he hadn’t anticipated.

He clenched his fists, pushing the feeling down, wrestling it into submission.

After tomorrow, he tells himself firmly. I won’t have to think of Lucy MacLean again.

The thought was meant to bring relief, but instead, it only deepened his disappointment.

 

 

---

 

Cooper had woken up first.

She still felt the dull ache where he’d kicked her awake like she was nothing more than a ragdoll.

Bastard.

That had been the best sleep she’d managed in the frozen night and he’d ruined it without so much as a grunt of acknowledgment.

The sun was rising now, bathing the landscape in gold, but Lucy found no comfort in it. She could feel it in her bones—the day was going to be brutal.

 

Cooper walked a few paces behind her, his eyes narrowing as he watched her silhouette move in front of him.

Her posture was slumped, her steps heavy. He had noted the signs of her dehydration earlier in the morning: cracked lips, a pallor beneath the grime on her face, and the way she licked at her dry mouth without relief.

He hadn’t offered her any water. Cause—

Where’s the fun in that?

Besides, the canteen he carried was filled with dirty water that would only be hydrating for a ghoul not a human.

 

A dry, hacking cough escaped her, and her shoulders tensed. She kept moving forward, though, obstinately pushing on with a slight limp.

Cooper’s attention shifted when a gust of wind brushed past, carrying something faint but familiar to his senses.

He stopped in his tracks, closing his eyes to concentrate.

 

Lucy’s worn boot scuffed against a rock, kicking it ahead. The sound made him peek one eye open, and he watched her continue forward, oblivious—or perhaps just stubborn enough to ignore the fact that he’d stopped.

He gives a sharp whistle.

She freezes, before slowly turning to face her captor.

She sighed.

“What?”

 

“Stay put,” he said. Closing his eyes again.

Taking a deep breath, he tries to pinpoint the source of the scent.

Where is it…

“What are you doing?” Her voice carried over, grating against his focus.

 

“Shhh,” he said, lifting a finger to his lips, eyes still shut. Almost got it…

 

Lucy rolled her eyes, shifting her weight in place. “What do you hear?”

She glances around, the barren landscape dotted with scattered bushes and the occasional relic of some old-world mechanical thingamabob.

 

Cooper’s shoulders tense.

He opened his eyes and shoots her a scornful scowl. “I thought I smelled something—”

 

“You need silence to smell something?” she said, arching an eyebrow.

 

He rolled his eyes, choosing to ignore her.

Without explaining, he gestured toward the left.

“Head that way,” he commanded.

He’d put the lasso away for now, a small kindness he can revoke. 

 

Lucy glanced over her shoulder, squinting in the direction he indicated.

She turned back to him, her lips pressed into a tight line.

“What’s over there?” she said, suspicion and fatigue weighing heavily in her voice.

 

Cooper closed the distance between them. “Just move.” He said. 

 

She clenched her jaw, clearly resisting the urge to argue. Instead, she shuffled to the side, keeping a careful distance between them. 

 

They’d barely made it another mile when Cooper abruptly stopped, forcing Lucy to come to a halt.

She groaned. “What now?” 

 

She watched as he paced, his eyes scanning the horizon before he closing them and taking a deep inhale through his nasal cavity.

His posture was tense, and she could almost see the gears turning in his mind.

And the smoke leaking from his ears...

She couldn’t help glancing around too, her curiosity getting the better of her. “What are you even looking for?” she pressed, “Maybe I can help?”

 

“I’m looking for silence.”

He didn’t open his eyes.

“Can you help with that?”

 

Lucy's jaw clenched, Smug son—

Before she could stop, or really just think things through, she lifted her right booted foot and kicked him hard in the shin.

 

Cooper’s eyes shot open, the sharp sting radiating up his leg.

“Ow! fuck —”

He bent over, his hands flying to his tender bone.

 

Lucy bent down close to his ear. “Shhhh,” she forced out–

Cooper shot up quickly.

uh-oh–

She shuffled back as he loomed over her, his shadow casting her in darkness.

Despite her retreat, Lucy lifted her chin. Puffy eyes still managed to shine with a stubborn, triumphant gleam as her lips pressed themselves into a tight line.

 

For a moment, Cooper can only stare at her.

Damn it. He felt a begrudging charm creeping into his mind.

His gaze travels along her, catching on the long stretch of neck. There, an angry red mark had started to blister. 

The skin looked raw, festering with irritation. He clenches his jaw, looking back to her face.

“Follow me,” He said, pivoting sharp toward a cluster of thick, scraggly bushes. 

 

Lucy’s shoulders slumped in relief as he put some distance between them.

Thank goodness. She'd really worried she'd taken it to far. 

 

She relaxes, watching him stomp his way through underbrush, pushing through foliage.

 

When he glances over his shoulder, and she's still standing where he'd left her, he sighs.

 

“Are you coming or what?” he called out.

 

Lucy turned and looked in the opposite direction, her eyes scanning the wasteland.

An uneasy thought flickered through her mind: I can’t run.

She was too tired, too worn down. And her bare foot throbbed with every heartbeat.

 

She swallowed hard and turned back toward Cooper, but he’d disappeared from view.

Her brows furrows, a hint of alarm creeping onto her face.

She tiptoes forward, peering over the tangled bushes in an attempt to track his movements.

She spots a rustle of movement in the underbrush, a flash of shadow that told her he was crouched low to the ground.

 

What’s he doing…?

 Her curiosity was battling with her exhaustion as she started to shuffle over, The sandy terrain making her footing unstable.

 

Rounding the bush instead of climbing over it, Lucy’s eyes went wide.

Cooper was crouched at the edge of a small, glistening pool of water, fed by a thin stream trickling down through the tangled undergrowth.

Her gaze darted from the stream to the pool, her heart leaping.

Water.

She moved faster than she thought possible. 

 

Cooper was dipping his canteen into the water, watching her from under the brim of his hat.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he saw her fall to her knees.

 

Lucy brought her Pip-Boy closer to the water, her hands shaking.

The screen remained blank, not registering any radiation. Her breath caught in her throat.

This water... It's clean.

Relief surged through her, and she plummeted her bound hands into the pool, trying desperately to cup as much of the life-saving liquid as she could.

The cool water shocked her skin, but she barely noticed, too focused on bringing it to her parched lips. When her cupped hands failed to bring a satisfying amount of water; Desperation drove her down.

She plunged her face into the pool. The clean water flooded her mouth, crisp and pure, and she gulped it down greedily. 

 

Needing to breathe, she sat back on her heels and wiped her mouth. 

 

Lazily lounging across the way was Cooper. He tilts his filled canteen up, drinking slow, savouring the liquid himself.

He catches her watching, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

 

Lucy scowled, “How did you know there was water here?” she said.

 

Cooper paused mid-drink, leisurely twisting the cap back onto his canteen as he swallowed.

“I didn’t,”—

He did. —

“Just got lucky, I guess.” He said with a shrug.

It was partly true. He’d never had a talent for tracking clean water. He'd just been fortunate enough to catch its scent in the first place. Not that she needed to know that. The fact that ghouls could smell clean water was knowledge slowly fading from human memory, reduced to mere folklore. A narrative he and generations of ghouls had done their best to encourage.

 

Lucy’s frown deepened as she glanced back at the shimmering pool.

That just can’t be true…

She wanted to press him further, to unravel the enigma he seemed so determined to keep, but what would be the point?

Knowing his secrets wouldn’t change anything. So, instead of wasting breath, she leaned back down toward the water.

 

Cooper watched her closely, his expression softening for a fraction of a second as he read the emotions dancing across her face— Doubt, Frustration, Resignation.

He bit back a smug remark, fiddling with the lid of his canteen.

We need to get moving. He reminds himself.

As if on cue, his lungs hitched, and he coughs.

 He brings his arm up to cover his mouth, wiping away a thin line of spit that dribbled down his chin.

 

When he looked back up, Lucy was staring at him, her eyes wide and unguarded.

For a heartbeat, he wondered what she saw—a monster, a survivor, or something in between.

 

He rubbed the back of his head before pushing himself to his feet. Lucy's eyes followed him up, taking in the way his shadow stretched across the ground. “Come on—we gotta get moving,” he said gruffly.

 

Lucy’s brows furrowed–

But I'm still thirsty. “Please, can’t we stay here a little longer? I—”

 

“No,” he cut her off. “We're losing daylight.”

I’m running out of time.

He bent down to swing his canteen up from the ground.

 

Lucy scrambled to her feet, desperation tightening her expression as she moved closer to him.

“Please, would you share your water with me until we get where we’re going? I’d bottle some if I could—”

 

Cooper rolled his eyes.

Christ—she’s hard to please.

“Are you forgetting that I don’t care?” he said, attempting to step around her. But Lucy moved swiftly, intercepting him and blocking his path.

 

Her eyes narrowed, and she straightened her posture. “You could smell the water,” she said.

 

Cooper’s lips twitched.

Clever girl.  

“So?” He said.

 

“So—I think you brought me here,” she said, stepping closer. Her eyes sharp.

 

Cooper knew a lot about the wasteland, and she was starting to wonder if working together might be her best shot.

She could find her dad even faster with his help, and maybe—just maybe—she could help him with whatever a ghoul cowboy’s heart desired.

 

Cooper’s hat cast a shadow over both of their faces. “I like clean water as much as the next guy, Vaultie,” he said, dipping his head closer, his breath hot against her cheek.

 

Lucy searched his gaze, unable to deny, even now, how striking his eyes were.

She swallowed, “If you let me go—”

 

Cooper groaned. Here we go again.

He stepped away, this time with more determination, and she didn’t try to block him.

“You’re a broken record with that tune,” he said.

 

Lucy limped behind him, her steps uneven but persistent.

“Fine. I’ll settle for sharing your water—thank you,” she said.

Cooper turned around quickly, and she stopped, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. 

 

He twisted the lid off his canteen, stepping closer until the space between them all but disappeared.

Her gaze darted anxiously between the canteen and his face.

Please don’t pour it out, please don’t pour it out.

 

Cooper’s eyes glinted with mischief as his rough, calloused fingers lifted her chin, gently tilting her face upward.

She stayed still, her eyes fluttering shut as her lips parted, anticipating the cool rush of water to quench her thirst.

 

But when he tilted the canteen, the water bypassed her opening entirely, splashing over the sensitive, exposed skin of her neck.

Lucy’s eyes flew wide, a sharp gasp escaping her lips as the icy stream cascaded down her throat, hitting the angry red burn— 

 

Cooper’s gaze traced the path of the water, his eyes darkening as he watched it glide over the graceful curve of her neck. 

 

He allowed a few more droplets to spill, before he finally pulled the canteen away.

Lucy lowered her chin slowly, her lips still parted in surprise as she processed the sensation.

Her dilated pupils followed the retreating bottle back up to his face.

 

Cooper’s lips curved, his head tilting toward the mark.

“You oughta get that looked at.” 

---

 

 

Lucy catches sight of the "Super Duper Mart" through the chain link fence, its dilapidated facade barely holding together under the pale morning light.

She spares a glance back at the man trailing lazily behind her.

 

She catches him watching her, and something flared hot in her chest.

What? Enjoying the view? She turned her gaze back to the horizon, her jaw clenched.

 

They approach a hole in the fence, Lucy steps through first, feeling his shadow follow. 

She scans the area out of habit—

No one else was around.

That should have reassured her, but instead, it only made her more aware of his presence.

 

 They approach an intercom in sight.

The Ghoul wastes no time, dropping his bag and pressing the button.

“Transaction,” he barks into the speaker.

 

He didn't look at her, but he could feel her stare boring into him. 

Dissecting me.

 

Lucy swallows the last bit of hope she had left, resigning herself to the realization that he wouldn't be changing his mind.

 

“Yes?” A posh voice crackled through the intercom.

 

“Two-month supply of vials,” Cooper said.

He thought that was fair.

“Exchange one female. Mint condition…”

He looked down at her dirty finger stump.

“-Near mint condition.” he corrected.  

 

That’s when he finally met her gaze.

He’s a little disappointed–After everything, that she just stared back at him.

Where’s the killer?

 

Her jaw is tense. Her gaze digging into him with an intensity that spoke volumes.

 

The pout on this one, a voice purrs in the back of Cooper's head.

 

“Condition grading requires physical evaluation. Please send her in.” Chimes in the voice.

A lock buzzes, and a latch clicks.

 

She needed to buy time. Needed one last way to get out of this situation without resorting to begging.

"What's in there?" she asks, the words burned in her throat.

It was a feeble attempt to divert his attention, to stall for time while she formulated a plan to escape his clutches without sacrificing her dignity.

 

Cooper hesitates.

He couldn't afford any more fucking delays in obtaining the vials.

With a quick motion, he grabbed her bindings and cut her loose.

"You're about to find out," he said, as he avoided her eyes.

He needed her to be out of his sight, out of my mind. 

 

"You're selling me?" Lucy feigned dismay.

She’d figured that's what he was going to do, but she was hoping to stall with some kind of rapport with him.

 

She's stalling.

He could feel it. And he wasn’t going to let her.

He moved his lapel back and pulled out his gun, making sure she knew exactly how serious he was.

No more talking.

No more Lucy McLean.

"You got problems out here too, sweetheart. Best you try your luck behind that door." He said. Cold and final.

He needed her gone—He didn’t need a redemption arc. And that's what a goody two-shoes like her is. 

No, he didn't need her. He needed vials.

Now.

 

"Go on," he gestured towards the door. With the gun too, for extra emphasis.

 

Lucy moved forward, swallowing her fear with each step.

She was brave, always had been, and she repeated that mantra to herself as she approached the entrance of the building.

 

Just as she was about to cross the threshold, one of her dad's lessons echoed in her mind:

"Remember, children, it's considered impolite to slip away without a proper goodbye."

Lucy couldn’t let whoever this man was win.

It wasn’t fair for him to win.

So, she would politely make him feel—wrong.

She looked over her shoulder swiftly, catching the Ghoul off guard.

"It's been eye-opening to meet you, Cooper Howard."

 

His mouth fell open.

Lucy didn’t wait for a reaction, she turned away sure of her words. 

 

Oh, the words hit hard. Cutting through him in ways he couldn’t shake.

How the hell– She was already walking through the door! Leaving him, standing there, stupid and stunned.

 

As soon as she disappeared from sight, He felt the air rush out of his lungs. And the wheezing starts.

No, not now. He's so close to getting his medicine.

His legs buckle, and before he knows it, he's on the ground, gasping.

Lucy fucking McLean.

 

He lays in a puddle of his own drool, drowning in the emptiness she’d left behind.

It’s better this way.

 

---

 

The robotic voice of Snip-Snip broke the silence.

"Excuse me, madam? Could I assist you in having a better day?"

 

Lucy blinks, released from her thoughts.

 

Her gaze drifts to the broken robot lying on the floor, a pang of guilt tugging at her conscience for causing its malfunction.

"No, thank you," she said soft and shaken.

 

Taking a deep breath, Lucy collects herself brushing dust off from her clothes. 

 

Snip-Snip's voice piped up again, offering assistance, but Lucy chose to ignore it, her attention consumed by Martha's lifeless body. 

 

She surveys the casualties of her attempt to do the right thing.

 I didn’t know.

She didn't know they would attack her and the boys.

This is what Cooper was preventing with Roger.

Her mind drifts to the memory of Roger's plea for vials.

He asked Cooper for Vials.

Cooper just sold me for vials. 

 

Lucy walks towards the miscellaneous chest of drugs, her hands trembling slightly as she reached out to grab a handful of what she hoped was the correct medicine.

He sold me for medicine, not money, medicine.

 A small pang of sympathy tugs at her heartstrings.

She was desperate to find her dad, and Cooper was desperate to save his own life. 

 

As she ponders the events that had led them to this point, Lucy couldn't help but wonder if things would have been different if Cooper hadn't needed the vials.

Would he have left her alone after the bait incident?

Probably not, she chuckles, shaking her head at the notion of romanticizing what could have been.

In a world where survival was paramount, she was beginning to understand there was little room for sentimentality or second chances.

 

With the realization that her freedom had been restored, Lucy felt a surge of empowerment coursing through her veins.

It was as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and she stood a little taller, a little bolder.

 

What am I going to do with that freedom? The words echoing in her mind as she contemplated the possibilities.

I'm going to prove a gosh darn point.

 

Lucy was starting to get used to her surroundings, and began searching for supplies.

She sizes up the corpses nearby and gets a shoe.  

 

She finds and urgently chugs two containers of water to quench her parched throat.

Each gulp gives a sense of relief as the cool liquid revitalizes her body.

She's careful while stashing another container in her bag for later. 

Her gaze falls upon a lone glass container sitting on a nearby side table, tempting her with its contents.

She pauses.

Someone else could use it.

She chooses to leave the container untouched. 

 

Lucy strides out of the Super Duper Mart, Clad in her bloodied tank top, sporting a new shoe and finger.

She scans the area, her eyes finding Cooper lying on the ground.

Am I too late?

Then, she hears it, a choked breath escaping from the ghouls lips.

Cooper sees mismatching boots come into his view. Eyes trailing up the strong pose.

She got away.

And her relaxed demeanor suggested she was confident no one would be pursuing her.

This explains why no one came to pay him and who released the panicked ghouls.

 

Lucy's grip tightens on her gun as she brandishes a handful of vials in front of the grounded ghoul.

"You don't get these, you turn into one of those?" she questions, then gestures towards the store with her gun. "That's how it works?" 

The sprightly nature that Lucy had displayed at previous points is noticeably absent now.

 

Cooper offers a slight nod.

 

He doesn't think Lucy will bury him to carve pieces out of him. Something he knows he can survive.

No, he thinks Lucys going to put him down.

Like the bad dog I am.

Continuing her role as his Angel of death, she squats, her gun dangling in between her spread thighs as she grips a handful of his salvation. 

 

He watches her weigh her options.

Little killer—He admires.

Yet, a pang of regret tugs under his vest. Closing his eyes, Cooper reflects on his own wishes and regrets.

He regrets not finding what came of his family, and surprisingly, he wishes he'd crossed paths with Lucy under better circumstances.

 With the thought of seeing Janey in some sort of afterlife, he readies himself for whatever fate–Lucy– has in store for him.

Accepting the consequences of his actions with a bittersweet mixture of pride and sorrow.

 

A couple of clinks break the silence.

 

Opening his eyes, he sees them there, his redemption within reach.

A silent gasp escapes him.

 With the vials, she extends him hope.

Hope to find Janey’s family,

Hope to make amends,

Hope to know Lucy under better circumstances.

 

She watches a million emotions hide behind The Ghouls face, a realisation dawning upon her that he, too, is as fragile as anyone else in this harsh world.

To bad.. 

Lowering her head slightly, she speaks with a new hint of steel, 

"I may end up looking like you... But I'll never be like you."

 Cooper's eyes flick up to her. 

Like me... bile rises in his throat. 

 

Lucy feels a twinge in her gut. I sure am going to miss that twinkle, she thinks, rising to her feet.

 With a quick flex, she boldly bids him adieu. "Golden rule, motherfucker."

 

Holding his tongue, Cooper watches her swagger away. 

A wry smile pinches the corners of his lips.

 

 

---

 

Cooper wobbles through the Super Duper Mart while using his inhaler.

 

Inside, he is met with the aftermath of Lucy.

 

Dead ghouls and two humans lay sprawled on the floor.

Got what was coming to 'em.

A sense of satisfaction washed over him at the sight of the chaos Lucy has left in her wake.

 

He entertains the idea of having an "I survived the Lucy Tornado" T-shirt made

 

A container of water catches his eye, and he lunges for it eagerly.

With trembling hands, he unscrews the lid and begins pouring the precious liquid into his dry mouth. A satisfying groan escapes him as his tongue and lips lap at the air for more water.

He coughs.

 

Cooper opens an eye to look around the room. His gaze falls on the coffee table.

What a payday.

Drugs, drugs galore.

Cooper over indulges.

 

Another drink of water, he licks the bottle's rim and slurps. Another satisfied groan.

 

Amidst everything, his eyes land on the chest of vials.

Hallelujah, what a payday! he sings in his head, he swiftly packs vials into his hat for safekeeping before uncapping one and eagerly drinking its contents.

 

He addresses the lifeless bodies strewn across the room.

"Ah. I'd share some of this with y'all, but..." he trails off, pouring another vial down his throat with a satisfying groan.

"Y'all weren't invited to this party," he sasses.

 

As Cooper surveys the box in disbelief.

There's almost three months' worth of vials in this box.

 

"Thou shalt get sidetracked by bullshit every goddamn time," he muses.

 

Looking around, Cooper sees a flash from the past.

In the last 24 hours, he's been reminded of Cooper Howard more times than in the last 100 years.

 

A Radiation King sits with 'A Man from Deadhorse.' laying beside it.

 

Something buzzes in the back of The Ghouls mind.

Meeting Lucy has brought Cooper Howard front and center again. 

 

He inserts the cassette video into the player. 

 

Grabbing the clicker off the ground, he sinks into the worn cushions of the couch. With a click of a button, the television flickers to life.

 

The Ghoul sees Cooper Howard, the coward, in action.

 

Memories flood back of not wanting the movie to end that way, but he had loosened his convictions for a paycheck.

Pathetic. Wimp. Loser.

 

He raises a finger gun at the screen, and mimes pulling the trigger. 

The flex of his hand sends a stiff wipe of pain up his hand, reminding him of his missing pointer.

He gently closes his hand to his chest.

Lucy.

 

The on screen Cooper Howard raises his gun and delivers the his final line

“There’s an old Mexican Eulogy, “Feo, fuerte y formal. Means he was ugly, strong and had dignity. Well Joey, I'll give you two out of three on that front. “ and takes the shot.

 

He sat still, feeling the crushing weight of memories that belonged to a man who no longer existed.

Strength and dignity—he had clung to them once, swearing he had them.

 

“I hope you like the taste of lead you commie son of a bitch.”

Chapter 3: Previously On… Fallout: Season 1, Ep. 8 ‘The Beginning’

Notes:

Thank you to everyone for leaving Kudos and Comments! This is my first fanfic, so all the feedback is encouraging. Please enjoy!

Lucy learns more about the world with Maximus.

Her time with him felt special. To know what an actual hero really looks like. 

Not just someone reading lines on the TV.

She thinks back to the bridge, where they encountered the 'Fiends'. 

Another harsh truth: lying. People lie up here, a lot . 

Even Max, who originally introduced himself as Titus.

 

Lucy thinks of the contrasting personalities in her interactions since leaving the vault.

The doctor had shown her genuine concern, even urging her to return to the safety of home. 

Cooper, while never outright lying, wielded honesty like a blade—sharp, often cruel. 

I wonder if that makes him lonely….

And Max!— Right! —Max had lied from the start, yet he’d proven himself a protective guide, patiently teaching her the ways of the wasteland.

A perplexing mix of kindness, cruelty, truth, and deceit.

There’s no perfect person on the surface— Because survival doesn’t require perfection.

 

Reclamation Day was a beacon of hope in the past.

The grand vision her people had clung to for survival was shattered, leaving her adrift in a world without direction.

Now, her sole purpose was to deliver this head and reunite with her father. 

After which she could speak to him about the change in the vault's vision of family plans.

Then maybe her and Max could wait even longer before multiplying. 

 

She prayed he was safe, spared from the cruelty she had endured.

Lucy couldn't suppress the anticipation of finally speaking to her dad again, sharing everything she had learned and seeking comfort in his embrace. 

 

Excitement bubbled within her at the thought of sharing with her dad the news that Vault 4 had incorporated surface dwellers into their society, dispelling the notion that all surfies were savages.

 

Memories of her somewhat elitist viewpoint back in Vault 4 flooded her mind.

It had bewildered her to see mutated individuals living generations deep in a vault.

She had voiced her suspicions to Max at the time. "He's got one eye!" she had said.

He had simply brushed off her observation as if it were insignificant. " You've got a gray finger. What's your point?" he retorted.

It wasn't cruelty, just the straightforward way he saw things, akin to a child's innocent curiosity, she was now realizing.

Another perk to choosing to bring home Max. 

When Lucy was 13 and started seeing the vault’s womanly doctor, Dr. Speck, the doctor had offered her a peculiar piece of advice: "You should aim for a soft husband," she’d said with a knowing smile. "They stay nicer longer."

And Max had been wonderfully nice to Lucy.

 

As Lucy approaches the imposing gate, flanked by armed guards, she takes a deep breath and glances down at her pip-boy.

Its signal confirmed that she has reached her destination.

 

Two women position themselves behind her, their guns at the ready.

Without a word exchanged, she grips her hold on the Doctor's head and is escorted into the compound. 

 

As Lucy strides through a field of corn, she observes the workers passing by, their attention focused solely on their tasks.

With a guard by her side, they eventually emerge from the field into a bustling village. To her surprise, the guard moves ahead without her, leaving Lucy to take in the scene on her own.

 

A small smile tugs at the corners of Lucy's lips as she gazes around.

The sight of everyone working together, seemingly in harmony, brings a sense of warmth reminiscent of her home in the vault.

 

She notices a ghoul in the distance, possibly assisting with food production, and she can't help but appreciate the inclusive atmosphere. A noticeable difference to the town of Filly, where she remembers comments about ghoul patrons being actively excluded.

 

Her brow furrows in thought.

Everything she thought she knew about the surface was being challenged.

Yes, the wastelands were dangerous, but here she was witnessing people who still held onto their humanity.

It made her wonder about the necessity of Vault-Tec all together.

 

If her fellow vault dwellers were to venture out into the world, they would need to rely on the kindness and cooperation of the surface dwellers. Not the other way around.

 

With these thoughts swirling in her mind, Lucy continued to follow the guards, eventually arriving at a building with a sign that reads 'Griffith Observatory'.

 

Lucy is led into a spacious room with a gaping opening where a wall once stood, allowing fresh air and sunlight to filter in.

 

Moldaver sits at a long table, seemingly hosting a feast for two.

To Lucy's surprise, she notices a feral ghoul tied to a chair, as if it were a guest at the dinner table.

It wriggles around, emitting groans and gasps that sound like cries of pain.

Put them out of their misery. She thinks.

 

With determination in her stride, Lucy approaches Moldaver. As she draws nearer, her father comes into view. Locked in a cage.

 

His surprise is evident as he rises from the ground "Lucy," he said.

 

"Dad." She responds.

Intent on reaching her father, Lucy changes direction, stepping toward him. However, her path is blocked by two guards preventing her from getting any closer.  

 

Lucy studies her father's face, noting the worry etched into his features.

 

"Welcome," Moldaver's voice interrupts.

 

Lucy looks over at the woman, who continues to sit with fork and knife at the ready on either side of her plate.

Another glance at the decayed ghoul prompts a quiet growl from it.

"Join us. It's my turn to host, isn't it?" she gestures for Lucy to sit down. 

 

Lucy ignores her manners huffing a small smile in response.

As If.

 

“I've had a lot of time to think about this moment,” Lucy said, stepping towards the warlord. Her hands, still gripped in the doctor's hair.

“You wouldn’t believe the things that went through my head.” She hesitates, casting a glance at the ghoul once more.

“One night, I actually tried to stuff an old grenade into the neck hold.”

Moldaver tilts her head, indicating that she's listening.

 

“Guess I…” Lucy inhales deeply, her expression serious as she holds Moldaver's gaze.

“…was gonna walk in here and blow everybody up,” she said.

The sitting woman gives her a small smile of appreciation.

 

“But it's…” her tone is resolute. “...not really how I was raised.”

She meets her father's gaze through the bars, sensing something in his expression she doesn't quite understand.

 

“So, if you don't mind, I’m gonna keep things civil.”

With that, Lucy takes the head and places it on Moldaver's plate of food.

The woman doesn't protest, instead happily accepting the offering.

 

“I brought you your friend,” Lucy said. “Just like he asked.”

 

Moldaver grabs a tool gun that had been on her person, swiftly injecting a long needle into the base of the head's ear. A whirring sound fills the air as the device seeks something within.

The ghoul continues to make noise, its movements growing more erratic.

Lucy feels an uneasy tension building within her with every moment the former woman writhes in possible pain.

 

Undeterred, Moldaver continues her task, her expression focused.

 

Finally, a distinct click can be heard, signaling the completion of whatever procedure she was performing.

 

Lucy's father straightened up, his expression clearly distressed.

 

Lucy, softens her approach with Moldaver. "Now, please... Give me my dad back," she said. The ghoul snarled.

 

"Very well." Moldaver said. Showing no empathy.

She  then holds a vial of a glowing substance up to her face.

 

So that's what was in the doctor's head. Lucy thinks.

 

 "But, first..." Moldaver pauses, her gaze shifting between Lucy and the vial.

"What if I tell you how I know your father? Who he really is?"

 

Lucy's attention flicks back to her father while Moldaver's proposition hangs in the air.

 

"No, Lucy." Her father interjects firmly. His tone brooking no argument.

 

Lucy's heart sinks as she absorbs his response.

No? 

Just then a long burdened pang of annoyance flared in her mind.

She understands her father's protective instincts, but after all the effort she's put into getting here—

She's not allowed to know "why?"

Why any of this, has happened?

 

“Don’t listen to her.” Hank finished. 

 

Moldaver ignores Hank and speaks directly to Lucy.

“You think your father was born in a vault. Like you. Like your brother.”

Hank looks pained. She continues.

“He never told you where he’s from, when he’s from.”

Hank's jaw tenses.

 

“He never told your mother either.”

 

At the mention of her mom, Lucy glances at her dad and he looks away... guilty?

 

She gives all her attention to Moldaver then.

“What do you know about my mother?” 

 

---

 

 

The ghoul's lips curl over a ‘tsk’ sound as he inadvertently stumbled into a room occupied by the Brotherhood.

The clang of metal members working nearby barely registered in his mind, a mere background noise to his thoughts. 

 

He was nearing the moment when Moldaver would finally reap what she’d sown with her so-called gift of semi-immortality. The same serum that extended her life had early, imperfect versions, and Cooper was living proof. Moldaver’s serum had tipped the balance.

 

Observing the scene with a detached interest, he watched as the Brotherhood dispatched a room full of people.

 

Realizing they were probably also headed to Moldaver, his smirk fell slightly, overshadowed by impatience.  

Now or later, they're in my way

 

 He adjusted the strap of his weapon. Stepping out from the shadows.

He had no time to waste on the Brotherhood's affairs.

 

A sharp whistle pierced the air, drawing the attention of the soldiers.

Swiftly, they pivoted to face the source of the sound.

 

The ghoul's relaxed posture and casual whistle seemed mismatched to the backdrop of tension. To the Brotherhood, he was just one guy, one ghoul a seemingly insignificant obstacle in their path.

 

With a sardonic grin playing on his lips, the ghoul kept his gaze down as he started to load his gun.

 

Leaning against the staircase railing, he addressed the Brotherhood.

"I'll bet that outfit makes y’all feel like big man, don’t it?"

His eyes remained fixed on his task as he continued. "Well, I know ‘cause, well, I used to wear one. Back in the day."

 

The Brotherhood's guard lowered slightly at the mention of wearing the knight's' armor.

 

Cooper's fingers deftly manipulated his special cone bullet as he inspected it.

"There was only one problem with it," he remarked.

"There was a flaw. In the welding just below the chest plate."

He finished loading the last bullet.

"I wonder if they fixed that in this new model?" He snapped the gun together and took aim, the loud shot reverberating through the room.

 

A metallic ping followed by a shower of sparks erupted from the knight directly ahead.

There was a pause before blood spurted from the wound, and the knight collapsed.

A strangled altered cry could be heard from inside. 

 

Hot damn. His jaw clenched as he suppressed a shit-eating grin.

"I guess not." He said.

---

 

Cooper stealthily stumbled upon a tense scene.

 

Lucy was pulling her gun on a knight.

Her body protectively hovering over some unconscious kid.

 

No Moldaver? He observes.

 

The knight, lacking a helmet, was barely discernible from Cooper's concealed position.

He did look sorta familiar though...

 

He remained hidden. Content to watch from the shadows.

He was captivated by Lucy's unexpected appearance and resolve.

Shoot him, sweetheart, Shoot him-

 

He noticed a look of disgust etched on her face, a disdain he hadn't even witnessed directed at himself.

Her eyes narrowed as she shook her head at the knight.

Wonder what- Cooper halted in his thoughts as the man's voice cut through the air.

 

"You see what this place does to a person?" the man addressed Lucy.

Cooper bristled at the condescending tone.

 

Lucy's grip tightened around the gun as she leveled it at her father, keeping her protective stance over Max.

The tension between her eyes is fixed, and her resolve palpable as she fought to hold back tears.

How could he have done this?

Anger surged within her, fueled by the realization that the greatest betrayal she has faced since leaving home came straight from home.

 

"I'm your father, Lucy." he said.

His words make Lucy's lip quiver.

His words make Cooper start loading his gun. 

 

Hank noticed Lucy's tremble, a sign that deep down, she was still his little girl.

 

He couldn't stop the self-satisfied quirk of his own mouth. "You came all this way for me," he reminded her.

He understood that she had received some earth-shattering news, but he was determined to make everything right again.

All he needed to do was to get her to calm down.

 

 Hank offered Lucy a small, reassuring smile, hoping to ease the tension. But Lucy remained steadfast in her stance, however internally, her resolve was being shaken.

 

"You're not going to hurt me." he stated. 

 

As Lucy grips her gun, she confronts a sobering realization.

He's right.

 

She faced a difficult choice, does she strive to prove him wrong, revealing that he doesn't truly know what she's capable of, just like she didn't know about him?

Or...

Does she hold fast to her morals, even if it risks appearing weak?

STOP-

Lucy refuses to let outward appearances dictate her actions, she's not a killer at heart.

So her resolve wavers, and her gaze falls.

 

Cooper watches Lucy, The Knight had referred to himself as Lucy's father.

MacLean…Henry?

His mind races trying to connect dots, then a pang of envy  as he observes Hank's seemingly unchanged appearance, contrasting with his own weathered and worn-out look, like dried-’ass’ jerky .

 

The sight of an alive and healthy Henry sparks a new flicker of hope within Cooper.

He's longed to uncover the fate of his family, to learn where they ended up.

Now, he finds hope that Janey could even be alive.

 

Amidst these thoughts, a wave of annoyance washes over Cooper as he witnesses Henry goading his daughter.

Smug son of a bi-

Though Cooper himself shares the belief that Lucy won't act violently.

 

He then sees her resolve fall, and a surge of urgency takes over.

I'll take it from here, sweetheart.

 

The spark of his gun briefly illuminates Cooper's form in the darkness as he fires. 

The shot merely grazing the man's face. 

 

"God!" Hank's pained shout echoes through the room as his body is forcefully thrown to the side, the impact of his cheek being ripped open by the grazing shot.

He manages to catch himself before he falls completely, standing straight.

 

With a grimace, he turns towards the direction from which the shot was fired.

 

From the darkness, "Oh, you want another autograph, Young Henry?"

The Ghoul steps forward.

  "Feo, fuerte y formal," he adds, his tone carrying a hint of ominous significance.

 

Lucy's eyes follow Cooper's entrance into the room, a sense of comfort washing over her at the idea of Cooper serving justice.

Weirdly, There's something reassuring about his presence, a feeling that he won't-

Cooper knows my father.

A knot tightens in Lucy's gut as the realization hits her like a sledgehammer. It's a monumental confirmation that her dad isn't who she thought he was.

How many times had he told me he wished he could have met Cooper Howard? She thinks.

 

Hank cocks his head at the man emerging from the shadows.

It couldn't be.

 

"When your daughter said her last name was Maclean, well, I just couldn't believe it was ‘the’ Maclean," the Ghoul remarks.

 

Hank backs up, his face contorted in a mix of shock and disgust at the appearance of the man before him. 

 

The Ghoul continued to advance, adding, "Hell, this kid used to pick up my wife's dry cleaning," this remark prompted an irritated expression from Hank.

 

Lucy watches her dad shift uncomfortably, noting the unease in his movements.

A pang of jealousy flips within her as she recalls that he didn't squirm like this when she was holding the gun.

 He didn't look this concerned when he was in Moldaver's cage either.

 

"Now I've waited over 200 years to ask somebody one question," the Ghoul continues.

 

Cooper stops, raising his gun on Hank. "Where's my fucking family," he growls.

 

Hank meets Cooper's gaze with a steely stare, his expression tense and wry.

Cooper holds his stance, his grip firm on the gun.

He's not so confident when I'm holding the gun.

 

The Ghoul watches with grim satisfaction as Hank abruptly turns and flees.

He's counting on Hank running home with his tail between his legs, straight back to whoever holds the real power. 

Barb. He hopes. 

 

Hank propels himself away with the jet packs of the knight armor.

 

Once he was certain that Hank wasn't tuning back, he dropped his gun “Yeah” he muttered to himself.

 

Lucy couldn't help but feel a sense of disbelief at how quickly her father had abandoned her.

Despite their conflict, the ease with which he left her with someone he himself was running from?

It struck her deeply.

 

She watches as Cooper moves towards the edge of the ruined wall, her thoughts momentarily distracted by his actions.

Why didn't he shoot him?

Disgust fills her then at the thought. After all, why didn't she shoot him?

 

A groan from behind her draws Lucy's attention.

Her heart aches with guilt for Max, knowing he had once again been unnecessarily harmed by her father.

For me

 

Doubt starts to cloud her mind as she considers their plans to return to her vault together.

What do I do now? Surely her father would head home.

We're they just to kiss and make up?

Would Max still come to vault 33, knowing who and what her Father has done?

 

"Hey," Lucy says faintly.

"Max. Hey, hey. Hey, Max, wake up," she repeats, her tone growing more insistent as she gently shakes him and cups his face.

"Come on, wake up."  Please.

 

He can hear Lucy's distress.

Seems she went and got herself attached to someone

He ignores the irony of the statement in favor of gazing out at the newly illuminated city.

 

Max remains unresponsive, and frustration wells up inside Lucy. She begins to shake him more vigorously.

"Wake up! God," she grunts, attempting to lift him off the ground. 

"Come on! Come on," she pleads, her voice bordering on hysteria.

"Come on, please!" With a final, desperate shove, she lets Max's body slump back to the ground, her hands trembling as she rubs them on her thighs in an anxious gesture.

Everything feels like too much.

 

“War never changes,” Cooper's voice echoes through the room, its gravity filling Lucy with a complex mix of emotions, far from anger—

“You look out at this wasteland. Looks like chaos. But there's always somebody behind the wheel. And that's who I want to talk to.”

Cooper's tone remains even as he finally tilts his head in Lucy's direction “That's where your daddy is headed,” he informs her.

 

Lucy's frustration boils up. "But you let him go!" she said.

She shifts her weight uneasily, her eyes flickering back and forth, refusing to look at him.

 

Cooper's gaze remains steady as he absorbs Lucy's fractured worldview.

He speaks to her even and soft.

"Well, it's easier to trap a stuck pig than to ask where it's off to."

He holds back the impulse to push her.

 

Cooper turns to face her, while Lucy's thoughts whirl with disbelief and confusion. She struggles to comprehend, her mind racing with unanswered questions.

 

“You wanna know how I know your daddy, don't you?” he hopes she does, hoping his Little killer isn't a quitter.

Finish one quest, just to pick up another.

It's what living today is all about.

 

Lucy still wasn't looking at him.

“Let's just say that everything about your whole little world was decided over 200 years ago.” he finished. 

 

Something occurs to her. Despite the uncertainty swirling in her mind, she begins to feel a glimmer of something—

 

She entertains the thought that of all the people in this world, he could be someone to trust.

She's beginning to discover that she values ugly truths over pretty lies, any day.

 

It's a tentative feeling, fragile and uncertain, but it offers a sliver of comfort amidst the anarchy.

As she considers the possibility of having someone like Cooper by her side, Lucy's skepticism begins to soften, replaced by a cautious optimism.

 

"Now, you can stay here with him," Cooper continues, "But when his tin can soldiers take this place—and they're gonna take this place—they will kill you and everybody here." His voice is a warning and a plea all at once.

 

Silently urging her to make a choice, to take control of her own destiny.

While trying to keep the bitterness from his voice with the mention of 'Dreamland' over there.

 

Lucy doesn't move. 

 

Cooper's deep melody resonates once more, "Or you could come meet your makers," he finishes, his tone a blend of forewarning and invitation.

 

With a subtle turn away, he signals that time to answer is running short, leaving the decision in Lucy's hands. 

 

Cooper's voice embraces her, feeling the weight of his words resonate within her.

 

There's a commanding presence to him, an innate sense of authority that transcends mere speech. He's not just an actor reciting lines. 

 

Lucy processes everything under the rug, taking a deep breath and inwardly concedes. 

 

She hears her mothers body groan in protest.

Lucy has been trying to tune her out since the revelation. She eyes the gun that had been dropped. 

 

The sharp click of the gun being cocked pierces the air, causing Cooper to freeze in his tracks. 

 

 Lucy's grip tightens, her knuckles white with unwavering focus, she takes aim.

 

The gunshot echoes through the room.

A pause, and then Cooper's head turns towards the now-silent ghoul.

His eyes narrow in acknowledgment, a clean head shot that puts an end to the creature's gurgling.

A damn good shot to a wiggling beast

 

Lucy studies her mother's motionless form.

 

She tries not to think of her mother forgetting possibly her own name.

A surge of anguish, twisting and gnawing at her insides.

Why? Why would Moldaver subject her mom to such cruelty? Robbing her of her very essence and leaving behind only a shell of the woman.

 

Moldaver's legacy may be heralded for her contributions to society, but for Lucy, there's a different aspect of her character that leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

 

Cooper glances over his shoulder. "You comin'?" he calls. 

Not waiting for a response, he strides purposefully towards the blown-out wall, 

 

Lucy addresses Max again. Once last attempt “Hey-” she whispers. “-get up.”

 

She strokes his face. “Max,” she sniffles. “I'll find you.” She leans down and gives him a kiss on the lips. 

 

With a firm resolve, Lucy stands and faces the night.

"Okie-dokie." She said.

The words reassure her, as she embraces the path ahead.

Turning on her heel, she follows in the footsteps of The Ghoul.

Notes:

Phew! It was a lot of fun rewriting parts of season 1, but I'm ready to create a season 2. Hope everyone enjoyed it!

Chapter 4: Deja Do-Over

Notes:

Please enjoy!

Lucy and Cooper move stealthily through the rubble-strewn streets of Los Angeles, enveloped in an awkward silence. In the distance, the faint glow of cold fusion power generators casts eerie shadows, highlighting Cooper's rugged features. His crimson, rough-textured skin absorbs the dim light, his sunken eyes gleaming with a signature twinkle.

 

Cooper can't fathom why he invited her along; Her sullen demeanor is already grating on his nerves, an unwelcome anchor dragging at his heels as he navigates the streets.

 

Bitterness twisted- Her daddy DID just up and leave her.

 

“DADDY- DON’T GO–PLEASE! DADDY NOO–” Janey’s voice pierced through the car walls, a desperate, heart-wrenching cry that echoed even as the vehicle sped off. Cooper collapsed to his knees, feeling the searing heat of his tears carving trails down his charring skin. The Armored Vault-Tec vehicle disappeared down the street, confidently navigating through the chaos of melting figures, their anguished faces blending into a nightmare of molten flesh.

 

Cooper shook his head violently, erasing the intrusive memory like an Etch A Sketch. He steals a glance at Lucy, clad in her Vault-Tec jumpsuit, her big brown eyes betraying a hint of sadness. He couldn’t help but wonder if she felt the same sting of abandonment as Janey.

 

They veer away from the main thoroughfares, the air growing cooler, carrying the faint scent of damp concrete and decay. Relying on Cooper's intimate knowledge of the city's back roads, while Dogmeat trails behind them, her ears perking up as she keeps watch over her companions.

 

Deftly navigating around some debris, Lucy’s mind drifts to her vault, her haven, Norm.'A pang of longing tightens in her stomach. Her eyes darken with worry as she glances at Cooper, who seems focused, yet unreadable.

 

Her senses oscillate between apprehension and curiosity. Each step is a silent study of Cooper's movements, marveling at his fluid grace. His unexpected invitation to search for her father stirred a whirlwind of emotions within her, a mix of hope and mistrust.

 

Cooper seems deeply entwined in this quest with her, yet a nagging suspicion about his methods lingers in Lucy’s mind. Her brow furrows, lips pressed into a thin line as she contemplates his motives.

 

“Well, I ain’t torturing you, sweetheart; I’m using you as bait.” The metal clanks as Cooper releases the pulley’s handle. Lucy barely has time to gasp before she plummets back into the black water, the shock stealing her breath. The cool embrace of the water surrounds her, and for a moment, she feels utterly alone. Her eyes adjust to the murky depths, catching sight of a massive shadow moving with terrifying speed.

 

She forces a small smile. “Hey, mind if I ask you something?”

 

Cooper's brows lift in surprise at the sudden buoyancy in her tone, a stark departure from the somber aura she had worn moments ago. "Sure,"  

 

“Are you going to use me as leverage against my dad? …And you’ve been keeping it hush-hush to speed up our journey by pretending we're allies?" Lucy keeps her tone surprisingly light for the topic, though her eyebrows were knitted tightly together.

 

She watches intently as Cooper purses his lips and glances upwards in contemplation. The corners of his mouth twitch, as if he is concealing a laugh. 

 

"Now that's an idea," he said. A hint of amusement dancing under the brim of his hat. "It's a good fail-safe." He paused and rolled his neck to work a kink. "Well, if I was, it wouldn't make sense to admit to it, now would it?"

 

Lucy finds herself drawn to the subtle charm in his mannerisms. She can see the layers of complexity in his gaze—calculating yet oddly sincere. With a slight nod, she replied, "True," 

 

Cooper’s smirk fades into a thoughtful expression, "I don’t have any current plans to do that," he assured her.

 

Lucy doesn't miss a beat. "If your plans change, I want a 24-hour notice," 

 

Cooper scoffs, "24 hours is way too much time in advance; you'd get away,"

 

Lucy raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips as she shrugs. "You'll just have to get creative," 

 

Cooper clicks his tongue, emitting a groan "Fine." 

 

Lucy’s grin widened, her eyes lighting up as she studied Cooper’s response. "Then why did you ask me to come with you?" The question hung in the air.

 

Sex? Uncharacteristically, she didn’t want to talk about that incident. She hadn’t yet addressed the psychology of it, nor why she liked it. And now, with Max, it was even more complicated. She stood there, waiting, uncertain if coming along had been a mistake.

 

They meandered through the streets, shadows stretching long under the moonlight, Cooper mulled over her question, like the grinding of old gears he thought slowly. The lasso incident came to mind, the first spark of his shift in attitude toward her, if he's honest. AND, The notion of corrupting Young Henry’s daughter twisted a smirk onto his lips-

 

But then memories came. Lucy above him, her silhouette against the sun—angelic and ominous. One moment, she was trying to strangle him, her eyes blazing with fire and determination; the next, she was setting down salvation in front of him.  The duality of her—both a threat and a savior—lingered in his mind. The orgasm had been fun, and he doubted he’d ever tell her how much he appreciated her participation. But nothing good ever came from getting tied down. 

 

"I thought I might enjoy your company," he finally said, shifting his weight. A brief grimace flashes across his face—That sounded soft.

 

"But don’t get a big head about it," he adds. He snaps his gloved fingers close to her face. "I could sell you at the drop of a hat. Remember that."

 

He halts, and she copies. The sudden stop sending a small cloud of dust swirling around their feet. He feels a need to assert his dominance.

 

"Actually, you can't." Lucy big eyes bore into his squared posture. "We just made a deal?" she him reminded softly. 

 

Cooper's brow furrows "Right, right, I mean—"

 

Lucy swiftly cuts him off, "I know what you mean," she says, her fingers flexing. She darts her gaze briefly away from him, a tightness pulling at the corners of her mouth. 

 

His eyes track her animated movements.

 

"Look, you being here changes nothing," he said. "I will do what I want, and I will kill who I want."

 

He watches the subtle changes in her expression, a flicker of fear and doubt in her eyes is almost imperceptible, but he sees it. Look away.

 

"I don't care if you complain about it," he adds, his voice unwavering. "Just stay out of my way." he commands before turning abruptly and walking forward, his steps a bit too brisk.

 

Stay out of his way? Her emotions churn like thick butter. Why had he brought her along if he wasn't willing to change? How could he expect me to turn a blind eye to the suffering he caused? With a thorn pricking at her conscience, She rushes to catch up to him, her strides long and purposeful.

 

"Well…" she began, "I could always leave," Lucy said, her eyes narrowing as they drilled into his profile.

 

Cooper didn’t look at her, It’s just a line in the dirt

 

He wanted to snap back, tell her he didn’t give a damn if she walked away. But that stubborn little voice—barely hanging on to the edge of his conscience—cut in. He wasn’t about to apologize for the whole hostage mess but...

Grinding his teeth, he forced himself to give a barely noticeable nod. "Leaving’s always an option," he echoed.

 

The tightness in her chest loosened, her shoulders dropping in a slow exhale. Cooper’s words were flat, but they hit something deep, something that had been wound up tight inside her. Her lips parted, as if to speak, but she stopped, the realization settling in. I’m not his hostage anymore.

 

She turned to face him fully, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips. In that moment, Lucy knew—despite his rough edges—Cooper was a man of his word. And that mattered more than she expected.

 

Dogmeat dashes ahead suddenly, turning the corner of a decaying building and vanishing from view. Lucy and Cooper halt, ears pricking at the soft rustling. Cooper raises a hand, signaling Lucy to slow down and stay behind. He moves silently to peer around the corner, his body tense and alert.

 

After a quick look, he turns back to Lucy, a sly grin spreading across his face. He takes her hand, the leather of his glove warm and firm against her skin.

 

"Come on, I bet you'll like this," he murmurs.

 

Lucy’s stomach flips at the ease with which he took her hand, following him around the corner. Her breath catches at the sight before her.

 

The path opens up to a cluster of glowing flowers, their petals shimmering with an otherworldly luminescence. Dogmeat weaves through the dense patches, rolling around manically before flopping onto her back, sending clouds of yellow pollen beads drifting into the air.

 The ethereal glow casts a soft light on her face. stepping closer, She catches sight of the flowers—blue petals with yellow centers and bright red stems. They're..mesmerizing. 

 

 

Cooper watches, Get rid of her.

 

He looked away then, something twisting ugly in his gut. This was a mistake. The thought informs him, his hand itching to slap a rope around her neck. You could get her while she’s not looking. He schemes inwardly.

"Actually, you can’t," Her voice chimed in, breaking the fantasy.

 

"They're beautiful," Lucy said gutting him out of his reverie. Cooper turns his attention back to her face, watching as she takes in the small field before her. Her freshly washed hair, a stark contrast to his own grime, hints at amenities he can only dream of. 

She looked at him.

He realized she hadn't confirmed whether she was capable of steering clear when he had business to handle. And though he didn't start the conversation, he'd value knowing the outcome now. 

 

She was watching when his gaze locked farther away than her. Distant, like his mind was miles away. Minuscule motions danced along his brow area, unitl finally, like he'd come to some conclusion, his twinkling eyes met hers. 

 

"What say you Miss MacLean?" His twang curled around another invitation. This one was different from the mission-driven one extended in Moldaver's tower.

 

The Ghoul's question didn't warrant the smile she gave him, a slight smirk playing at her features. His stomach flipped at the idea that she'd laugh.

She knows the question is whether she can be a bystander. And that answer is no. But Lucy thinks The Ghoul could respect the ability to withhold information, using a slight of hand honesty.  

"I think I may enjoy your company too," she said.

 

Cooper’s little devil slipped right off his shoulder. 

Notes:

I promise I'm going somewhere with this. This chapter has been updated since its original posting.

Chapter 5: A Market of Unreasonable Expectations

Notes:

Please enjoy!

Cooper set ground rules for Lucy as they made their way into a settlement on the outskirts of Los Angeles the next afternoon. His voice was gruff, but steady—he wasn’t worried, not about himself, at least. "We're just here for supplies, and we keep moving," he said, eyes scanning the market .

 

He stopped and turned to face her, his gaze hardening, "No distractions," he emphasized. 

 

"Okie-dokie! Just supplies, got it!" Lucy chirped, her voice bright and cheerful, cutting through the dusty atmosphere like a fresh breeze. Cooper resisted the urge to sigh. She stood out here, whether she realized it or not. Easy marks always did.

 

His eyes narrowed ahead, scanning the market stalls, where glances lingered just a little too long on Lucy. "I'm serious," he growled, more out of concern than frustration. "Keep those vault dweller instincts in check—" Fuck.

 

He stopped mid-sentence, realizing Lucy was no longer beside him. Figures "What the—" he muttered, turning around, catching sight of her a few paces away, already distracted by some stall. His eyes flicked over the people around her—no immediate threats, but still. He strode toward her with an exaggerated annoyance.

 

Lucy was wide-eyed and listening intently to an old lady. He slowed his approach, curiosity piqued. The old woman was speaking low, her wrinkled hands gesturing with urgency. Lucy nodded along, ever the attentive listener.

 

As he approached, he noted the old lady’s eyes flicker toward him, her expression freezing the moment she saw him coming up behind Lucy. Her lips pressed into a thin line. 

 

Lucy listened to the old lady’s words as something tugged at her awareness—She didn’t turn right away, letting the subtle shift in the air settle– Cooper? She hoped. She finally glanced over her shoulder, a grin spread across her face at being correct. Gesturing toward him, she said, "My partner might be interested—"

 

The old lady cut her off sharply, her tone suddenly cold. "Never mind, I don’t want your help," she muttered, stepping back slightly. Her gaze fixed on Cooper now, filled with unease. 

 

Lucy blinked, confusion furrowing her brow. "But you just said—"

 

Cooper didn’t need to hear the rest. "Come on," he said amused, not bothering to argue with the old woman. He lightly touched her arm, guiding her away from the stall without explanation. 

 

Lucy glanced over her shoulder at the woman, still puzzled by the sudden turn. "What just happened?" she asked, her voice low as they weaved through the crowd.

 

Cooper shrugged easily. "Who could say?". His hand moved to hover over her lower back, just below her bag.

 

Behind them, Dogmeat, who had been trailing at a comfortable pace, suddenly lifted her head. Her nose twitched as a new scent wafted through the air. The smell of cooking meat caught her attention, and without hesitation, she veered off, following the trail with eager intent.

 

The market buzzed around them—vendors shouting, the clinking of old-world tech being traded like precious gems. Cooper kept his hat tilted low, the brim casting a shadow over his weathered, ghoul-like features. Most people knew better than to make eye contact, but he still scanned the crowd, eyes darting as he maneuvered them deftly between the stalls. His touch remained light, yet his presence steered her toward the supply shack up ahead, all while he took in the chaos of the market.

 

Lucy scanned the crowd, still in awe of the bustling life above ground. So much noise, so much movement. It was hard to believe she was really here, surrounded by so many people. It was chaotic, with a sense of community— Like the community at home, Her gaze flitted over faces, counting two other ghouls as she made mental comparisons. The vault was a small pool of faces, here it was fun to see different types.

 

Then she spotted someone familiar. “Oh!” she gasped, excitement bubbling up. Without a second thought, she darted forward, slipping out of Cooper’s loose grasp.

 

Cooper’s hand shot out, fingers brushing against the fabric of her bag but not quite catching hold. He stopped, a low tsk escaping him as he watched her practically skip away, her form bouncing through the crowd. What now? he thought.

 

Lucy barreled toward the older woman, her gaze locking on the crutch that replaced the balance her missing leg had once given. Her stomach churned, the memory still sharp—last time she’d seen the woman, she was giving instructions to Lucy to deliver the Doctor to Moldaver. 

 

Ma June’s eyes flickered with recognition as Lucy approached, annoyance settling over her face like a storm cloud. "Holy shit," she muttered.

 

Cooper tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as recognition flickered. The merchant from Philly. He hadn’t expected to cross paths with her again, but the world had a funny way of circling back. 

 

Lucy stopped short, her feet skidding slightly as she landed directly in front of the woman. Her sudden halt sent a cloud of dust swirling around her boots

 

"Hi!" Lucy called out, maybe too brightly, her nerves bubbling over. "I don’t know if you remember me—"

 

"I remember," Ma June cut her off, her tone flat. The last thing she needed was more from this vault dweller.

 

"Oh," Lucy deflated slightly, rubbing her hands together, feeling the weight of the older woman’s frustration. "I, uh... about the Doctor... I got his package to Moldaver, but… he didn’t make it." Her voice dropped, apologetic. 

"I don’t care about that anymore," Ma June snapped, irritated by the reminder of her time helping the Doctor. "By the time I got to Moldaver to collect my caps, the Brotherhood had already gotten there. They took everything.." She shifted her weight on the crutch. The leg hadn’t been salvageable, not with all the bullet fragments lodged in the bone. 

 

Lucy flinched at the name. Is Moldaver dead? She looked back up, eyes wide with shock. "I’m sorry you didn’t get your caps," she offered, She glanced at Ma June, noticing the woman crudely adjusting her stance again. "And I’m sorry you lost your leg."

 

Ma June’s gaze sharpened behind her black-rimmed glasses. "Ain’t you know it’s rude to point out when someone loses a body part?"

 

Lucy blanched. "Is it? I didn’t mean to—" She was cut off mid-sentence by a strong presence stepping up beside her, and a familiar gruff voice speaking over her.

 

"She’s still learning the etiquette of the surface," Cooper said with a smirk, his eyes taking in Ma June’s hobbled form.

 

Ma June shuffled back on her remaining foot, her expression flickering with disbelief. She stared between Cooper and Lucy, processing the sight of the vault dweller standing beside a ghoul. "You—" she started, her voice uncertain.

 

"It’s okay!" Lucy cut in, sensing the woman’s repulsion. "He’s not here to hurt anyone!"

 

Cooper rolled his eyes, while Ma June gave a dismissive huff.

 

Undeterred, Lucy continued, "We’ve come to an understanding, and he and I are setting out to find my father." She finished with an affirming nod. As if that would somehow settle things. 

 

Cooper glanced sideways at her, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

 

Ma June's gaze narrowed, zeroing in on the faint mark on Lucy's exposed neck. Her eyes flicking back to The Ghoul— Something clicked in her mind, a sour realization twisting the merchant's features. She looked between them, her lips curving into a sneer as she pieced it together.

 

“Oh, my god.” She clicked her jaw, "You’re fucking it," she spat, loud enough to make heads turn and nearby conversations fall silent.

 

Surrounding, passing eyes locked onto Lucy and Cooper. Some onlookers whispering harshly. 

 

Lucy's face went Crimson, her body stiffening as she instinctively reached to cover the mark— his hickey—on her neck. It’s been slow healing, but drastically better with medical intervention. Vault 4 doctors had called it an “oddly placed radiation burn”—Followed by a sly wink that she was sure Max missed.

 

Cooper’s jaw tightened, anger simmering as he took in the onlookers’ faces. The merchant’s reckless outburst wasn’t just rude; it was dangerous. He’d seen firsthand how people reacted to such rumors: a few whispers, and they’d brand Lucy a traitor, a monster lover . 

 

He stepped closer, his presence a solid, protective barrier between Lucy and the older woman. He’d seen the spot of course. Been trying his damnedest not to constantly stare at it. Every time he caught a glimpse, it made his mouth water.

 

He loomed over Ma June, who immediately recoiled, her shoulders drawing inward. Her gaze dropped, but frustration hardened her mouth into a thin, bitter line.

 

"You're on your last leg," he said, just for her ears. "I suggest you walk away with it." He finished, inhaling slowly, to catch the sharp spike of adrenaline in her scent. Good . He stepped back, granting her space to leave. 

 

Ma June shot Lucy a final, hard look, her expression dark. Her eyes flicked back at The Ghoul before she hobbled away, crutch scraping the ground. Around them, the market patrons moved on.

 

Cooper turned back to Lucy, with a raised browline. Lucy tilted her head, forcing a smile as she stepped closer, slipping her arm through his and gently nudging them forward.

 

He let her guide him, bolder today. A flicker of excitement stirring inside. He adjusted his pace to match hers, both of them falling into an easy rhythm as they walked through the lively scene around them, the chatter of the market fading into the background.

 

Her voice was light,and inquisitive, as she broke the silence. "Are sexual relationships between ghouls and hu—not ghouls… taboo?"

 

Cooper kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, the corners of his lips curling into a half-grin. "Hmm. Why do you ask?" he replied. The answer —most people found the idea repugnant. 

 

Lucy smiled as they turned another corner, their walk through the market becoming aimless, the hum of vendors and bustling patrons swirling around them. "Oh, you know," she continued, gaining a more relaxed tone, "in case I meet a nice, handsome ghoul boy on the road—"

 

"Boy? Not man?" Cooper cut in, his amusement clear.

 

Lucy laughed, the sound light and genuine. He felt her grip on his arm tighten slightly, "Man, sure... yes, you’re right. I’d definitely prefer a man. You know, someone with experience."

 

"Experience, yeah, yeah," he drawled, "But he’s gotta be handsome though?"

 

Lucy pursed her lips slightly, keeping her tone casual as she responded. "Whoever I decide to pursue would definitely be handsome."

 

Cooper didn’t respond immediately, and then he was given an easy out when she once again trotted ahead of him. He stayed back, watching her go, feeling the need for a bit of air. 

 

Lucy approached the nearest booth, eager to focus on something else. She didn’t know where that conversation with Cooper might have led, and frankly, she wasn’t ready to consider it. The man behind the booth rubbed his hands together, eyes sliding over her as she approached. "How can I help you today?" he asked, his voice dripping with the well-practiced charm of a vendor sizing up a potential customer.

 

Lucy studied the daggers laid out in front of her, each one forged from surface materials, some more refined, others crudely fashioned from remnants of the old world. Pre-war relics, with stories embedded in their sharp edges, glinted under the market light, drawing her in. They all hold a history , she thought, her fingers hovering over one in particular—a slender blade with a jagged edge. She imagined herself with gear like Cooper’s, a fitting ensemble for her new life on the surface.

 

Her face flushed as the vendor’s voice cut into her daydream.

 

“Lady, are you gonna buy anything?”

 

She blinked, feeling the heat creep up her neck. She almost asked if she could pick up one of the daggers to inspect it, but then mentally kicked herself. I don’t even have any caps.

 

She fumbled for a response. “Umm, I’m sorry, I don’t have any caps,” she admitted, feeling a pang of embarrassment. I shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up.

 

The vendor smiled, and for a moment, Lucy thought he might be understanding. Then his next words came, crude.

 

“That’s okay, if you give me a hand job, I can give you caps.”

 

Her eyes widened  “Oh, um, thank you for the business opportunity, but I’m not interested—”

 

The vendor pressed on, ignoring her discomfort. “Look, I’ll even give you more than I’d charge for the dagger, 'cause I'm a nice guy—”

 

 “There a problem here?” Cooper’s voice came, low and calm, The vendor’s demeanor shifted instantly as he took in the Ghoul who stood poised just behind the vault dweller. 

 

He gulped, eyes darting between Lucy and Cooper.

 

She looked back at Cooper, and he met her gaze easy “No, there’s no problem.-” She answered “He was just offering to pay me caps in exchange for—”

 

“I didn’t say nothing!” the vendor blurted out, panic creeping into his voice.

 

Lucy shot the vendor a side glance, “You offered—”

 

“I ain’t offer nothing,” the man snapped, Cooper tilted his head, his expression unreadable. The vendor’s bravado began to crumble  “If you ain’t got caps, get away from my booth,” the vendor said. The added quickly, “With all due respect.”

 

Cooper laughed. “With all due respect,” he echoed slowly, his gaze lingering on the vendor one last time before turning back to Lucy.

 

“We got stuff to do—come on.” He lightly moved her away from the booth, nudging her back toward their original task. 

 

Lucy glanced back at the rattled vendor and then at Cooper, her mind racing. She couldn’t help the small smile creeping onto her lips. "I'm starting to think people are scared of you," she said, half-joking.

 

Cooper gave her a sly smirk. “Everyone but you seems to have some common sense,” he quipped.

 

Lucy batted his chest lightly, her fingers grazing the worn fabric of his vest. Cooper pressed on, his tone shifting back to his usual gruffness. "That's enough distractions from you. What was the one thing I said when we got here?" he asked.

 

Lucy rolled her eyes, about to retort, when a harsh voice sliced through the market’s clamor.

 

"GHOUL!"

 

The shout echoed through the market, freezing conversations mid-sentence. The crowd’s movement ground to a halt, eyes turning in confusion and alarm toward the source of the voice. Lucy felt the ripple of tension sweep over the crowd like a wave.

 

Her heart skipped as she followed the gaze of those around her, eyes landing on a man standing atop a makeshift platform, pointing directly at them. At Cooper. His face twisted with hostility, his eyes burning with something darker, more personal. Who is that?

 

Cooper’s eyes locked onto the man, “Don fucking Pedro,” he growled under his breath, teeth clenched as old anger simmered.

 

She glanced up at Cooper, noting the shift in his posture—She swallowed hard. 

 

His voice came low and sharp, rumbling only for her ears. “Get behind me,” he ordered.

 

Lucy obeyed, moving quickly. She rose onto her toes, her fingers gripping his shoulder for balance. "We’re only supposed to get supplies." she whispered into his ear.

 

Cooper ignored her as his browline furrowed, Eyes never leaving his foe.

 

Lucy suppressed a giggle, her lips curving as she noticed the muscle twitch in Cooper's jaw and the huff of air that escaped his...nostrils?

 

Cooper’s lips pressed into a thin line as he focused intently on addressing one of the banes of his existence. "Don Pedro, quite the bold move, showing your face like this," he remarked, his voice carrying a low, dangerous edge. 

 

The 'higher' man chuckled mockingly, his laughter cutting through the hushed market. “I think you’ve got that backwards, friend. I’m surprised you’d even leave the hole, looking like that,” his stance wide and confident, thumbs hooked in his belt as though he had all the power in the world.

 

The crowd murmured, whispers of 'The Ghoul' rippling through the people.

 

Cooper felt his jaw tighten further. Here we go. His focus shifted back to Don Pedro, irritation simmering as he planned his next move. 

 

Without warning, Lucy stepped forward, slipping in front of him. Cooper’s annoyance surged as her sweaty ponytail flicked dangerously close to his face. He opened his mouth to stop her but her confidence quashed any potential complaint–

 

“Excuse me, sir, but your comments are uncalled for and frankly, a nuisance,” she said, her voice firm and diplomatic. Her eyes locked onto Don Pedro’s, unwavering. He’s not intimidating. He’s just loud.

 

Cooper looked down, unable to stop the heat creeping into his face at Lucy's “good guy” persona. He quirked a brow muscle, biting back a smirk.

 

“Now, I kindly ask that whatever differences you and my partner have be left for another day,” Lucy finished, nodding her head with an air of finality. 

 

For a moment, the brute’s mocking grin faltered and The crowd around them held their breath. 

 

Then- Don Pedro erupted into laughter, his hearty chuckles booming through the air. Of course not. Lucy’s stomach dropped as the mocking rippled around her. With a sweeping gesture, Don Pedro signaled to his cronies, perched on nearby platforms. Their laughter followed, echoing down like an insult from above. 

 

Cooper’s stomach churned as he scanned their surroundings. His sharp eyes quickly took note of the strategic positions Don Pedro’s henchmen held on the upper levels. We’re surrounded. The advantage was clearly in Don Pedro’s favor, and that realization twisted in his gut. Shit

 

 Don Pedro’s finger jabbed accusingly at Lucy, his booming laughter rolling through the market like thunder. The mocking sound echoed off the surrounding stalls, urging others to join in. Lucy’s lips pressed into a tight line, her eyes narrowing into slits as she watched his exaggerated performance. A wave of heat flushed through her, prickling her skin and making her fists clench at her sides.

 

Then, amidst the cacophony of laughter, a deafening gunshot shattered the air. Lucy’s eyes squeezed shut in pain. The crowd fell silent in an instant, the laughter cut short, leaving only the ringing of the gunshot in their ears.

 

"FuUcCK!" Lucy’s voice pierced the stillness. Her hands were over her ears, trying to block out the unbearable ringing that reverberated through her skull, like a thousand bells going off at once. Why did he—? The question never fully formed as the pain consumed her senses. A steadying hand landed on her back, offering support.

 

Her heart raced as she blinked her eyes open, her vision swimming from the shock. The acrid scent of gunpowder filled her nostrils, mixing with the metallic tang of blood. Lucy lifted her head from her doubled-over position, her eyes darting to where Don Pedro had stood. From her vantage point, all she could see were the worn soles of his boots.

 

 

Another gunshot pierced the air, a sharp crack that sent Lucy staggering backward, Cooper’s movements blurred into swift, practiced precision—he was a force, his gun swinging with deadly intent. His eyes narrowed, his focus razor-sharp.

 

 

Bullets whizzed past them, and without missing a beat, Cooper grabbed Lucy, hauling her off her feet. She barely had time to react before she was dragged toward cover. She felt the impact of bullets hitting him, but he didn’t stop. 

 

The second they entered cover, Cooper dropped Lucy to the ground, positioning himself by the window and staying low to avoid the barrage of gunfire.  He swiftly refilled his ammo and took a hurried puff from his inhaler,  brief relief washing over him.

 

 From the ground, Lucy scrambled up, her chest heaving with panic, fury building within her. "Why did you shoot him?! I was talking to him?!"

 

Cooper fired another shot. "I know, which gave me ample time to shoot him. Thank you!" he retorted over his shoulder. He moved, firing strategic shots from behind cover. He quickly returned to his position, his back pressed against the wall as he fixed a hard gaze on Lucy.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted that man dead.” Cooper’s voice was cold.

 

Lucy took in the seriousness etched on his face. I’m not supposed to get in his way. She wanted to argue, to tell him not every conversation could end in bloodshed, but before she could speak, movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention. Someone was silently approaching the door, bat raised, ready to swing.

 

“Cooper, lookout!” she shouted.

 

In an instant, He ducked, the bat slicing through the air above his head. Without missing a beat, he drove a powerful jab into the man’s diaphragm, the blow knocking the air from his lungs and sending the bat clattering to the floor. The attacker staggered, gasping, but quickly regained his footing and threw a wild punch.

 

Cooper caught the swing with his right arm. The man, determined, planted his feet and tackled Cooper backward, slamming him into the wall with a grunt and then the ground with a thud.

 

Lucy moved, her eyes locking on the fallen bat. She lunged, scooping it up from the ground, her grip tightening around the handle. Cooper, pinned beneath the man with his assailant’s hand crushing down on his face, glanced up, catching sight of her rushing in . and someone else . “Mmm!” he tired to warn.

 

 Before she could follow through, a hand from behind, gripped the bat, then grabbed and twisted her arm backward. The weapon slipped from her grasp, clattering once more to the floor. Another arm wrapped around her waist, lifting her off her feet.

 

Cooper’s head jerked forward as he smashed into the face of the man on top of him, blood spurting from the attacker’s nose. 

 

“Get off me!” Lucy yelled as she was pulled outside.

 

Cooper shoved the man off him and slammed him down, driving his knee hard into the groin. The man crumpled with a groan, his body folding. He stood quickly, drawing his gun and firing a single shot into the man before he could get up again.

 

Cooper snapped his head to the door and ground his teeth.

Stepping out the door, he followed the sound of Lucy's struggling- gun poised.

 

Up 3 flights of stairs, Lucy was still one flight ahead. She looked down at the market and was surprised to see it on fire. Who did that? 

 

She struggled in the man’s arms, her body twisting as she shifted her weight. The sudden movement caused the man to drop her slightly, just enough for her to plant her feet and drive her elbow hard into his kidney. The blow landed with a satisfying thud, and the man grunted, doubling over. His grip loosened.

 

Lucy staggered back, YES! catching her breath—only to realize too late that there was no more ground beneath her.

 

Her heart lurched as she had stepped off the edge of a fourth-floor balcony. No!— Her arms shot up, a desperate attempt to grab something, anything. Her heart fell faster than her body, and her eyes squeezed shut. 

 

She hit something solid—warm. Strong arms were wrapped around her. The impact having brought a surprised “Oh!” from her lips.

 

Her eyes flew open, and she looked up at Cooper, his dirty gold eyes staring down with a mixture of annoyance and urgency. He moved her firmly, setting her back on her feet.

 

“I’m not being funny,” Cooper griped, “but you better start using that gun before you lose the privilege of having it.”

 

Lucy crossed her arms, the heroic moment forgotten. “You can’t force me to hurt anyone.”

 

Cooper rolled his neck and eyes, “Fine!” he barked, walking past her with exaggerated arm movements. “But don’t count on me to always be—”a man burst from the shadows, tackling him with full force. "akgk-"  Both men hit the ground hard, the combined weight sending them crashing through the floor, and then through the next. 

 

With a crashing thud, they hit the ground below, debris raining down around them.

 

Cooper’s eyes twisted in pain as a sharp snap echoed through his body. —my back .

 

The man who had tackled him groaned, standing up dazed. 

 

Cooper quickly unholstered his gun, raising it just enough to fire a single shot into the man. The attacker dropped, lifeless.

 

The ghoul attempted to move, but more pain shot through him. Fuck—my back's broken.

 

He heard a creak from above. His gaze drifted upward.

 

Lucy’s face peeked through the broken ceiling above, two floors up.

“When Vault 33 integrates with the surface, we can help introduce building codes,” she called down.

 

Cooper groaned, He was about to respond when a flash outside caught his attention. Smoke began to creep into the building. Who the hell set the place on fire?

 

He looked back up at Lucy. “You gotta get out of here, before the whole place goes up in flames.”

 

Lucy’s face twisted, “What about you?”

 

“I broke my back!” 

 

“What?!”  Her heart sank, Stupid, stupid—teasing him instead of checking on him. She sprinted toward the staircase, dodging other market-goers as they ran past her.

 

Lucy reached Cooper in a few minutes, her breath ragged. She hesitated for a moment, stepping over the man who had fallen with him, kneeling beside the ghoul. “Are you going to be okay?” 

 

He waved her off.  He couldn’t stand this look in her eyes— “I can’t feel my legs, but... I’ll be fine in a few,” he said, “Just get to the outskirts. Use your gun—”

 

she cut him off, her mind racing. “I’m not going to leave you-”

 

“Then don’t! Wait on the outskirts,—” His voice carried a sharp edge, but before either could say more, two figures loomed 4 ft away. The largest of the pair sneered, his voice thick with arrogance.

 

“Don’t worry,” he growled, “your whore won’t be going anywhere.”

 

 Lucy turned and stood wide eyed.

 

Cooper's eyes narrowed, his gun snapping up. He pulled the trigger. Click. Empty. Shit.

 

The thinner man chuckled, rubbing his hands together, savoring the moment. “Can you load that gun before we walk out the door with her?”

 

Lucy’s jaw clenched. “I’m not going anywhere with you,” she snapped, her hand darting for her gun. But the smaller brute lunged forward, grabbing her wrist with a crushing grip.

 

The second man rushed toward her, but she lashed out with her leg. The sharp sound of her boot connecting with his groin was followed by his pained groan as he doubled over. Lucy swung her free arm, landing a punch square in the face of the man holding her. His head snapped back dragging her along with him, as they collided with a low counter, knocking items off with a clatter. 

 

Cooper’s fingers moved frantically as he reloaded his gun, but his sharp eyes caught the second man pushing himself back up, eyes focused on Lucy. No ya dont’ He abandoned the task, twisting his torso to lunge for the man’s legs. With one swift motion, The man hit the ground with a loud grunt, the floorboards beneath them creaking from the impact.

 

Lucy twisted, shifting her weight to free herself, but the man wasn’t done. His fist shot up, connecting hard with her face. The sharp crack of the hit echoed in her skull as pain exploded through her nose. She staggered, colliding with a shelf full of dusty bottles. Glass clinked and rattled, some tumbling down to shatter on the floor. Ouch! Blood welled up instantly, dripping down her lips as she struggled to regain her focus.

 

She gritted her teeth, her vision clearing just in time to see the man advancing again. She shifted her weight and stomped hard on his ankle, causing him to bend forward with a sharp grunt of pain. Seizing the opportunity, Lucy hoisted herself up onto his shoulders, her legs wrapping tightly around his neck as she locked him in place. The man stood straighter, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he clawed at her legs. His movements became frantic, knocking over a nearby table, sending a cascade of items crashing to the floor.

 

Cooper winced as a sharp boot connected with his face, the impact echoing with a hollow thud. If I still had a nose, that would’ve broken it. The man kicked him again, harder this time. He rolled aside just as the man finally broke free from his grasp.

 

Lucy, meanwhile, bent her elbows and brought them down hard on the top of the man’s head. Once, twice—until his knees buckled.  She tumbled off his shoulders, landing on her feet with a light grunt.  In one swift motion she spun kicking the man in the face. The sound of her boot connecting with his jaw was sharp, and he dropped to the ground, knocked out cold.

 

Just as she turned, the larger brute lunged at her again. Lucy sidestepped, using his momentum against him, and with a powerful flip, sent him crashing to the ground on his back.

 

Cooper lay on the ground, his head ringing, watching her with a mix of surprise and amusement. Jesus . He saw her grab her gun, as she straddled the man, delivering a solid blow to the back of his head with the butt of her weapon. The dull crack echoed through the room, and the man went limp beneath her.

 

Lucy’s hair had come loose during the scuffle, strands falling messily into her face. She blew a wisp of hair away, her chest heaving from the adrenaline. Her hand went to her nose, gently probing it. She flinched as a sharp pain shot through her. Definitely broken. She lowered her hand, smearing a bit of blood across her cheek.

 

She looked over at Cooper. “How are you?” she asked, her voice still shaky from the adrenaline.

 

“I’m hard,” he said, the words slipping out before his brain could catch up. He wasn’t— not really —but watching her take down those thugs, her face streaked with blood, taking that broken nose like a fucking champ ... he knew her question had nothing to do with that...and now he regretted speaking.

 

Lucy stood up, a wide grin spreading across her face. “That’s great! If you’ve got a feeling in your groin, you should be able to feel your legs soon,” she said, beaming with relief.

 

“I was just joking—” Cooper shaking his head.

 

Lucy’s smile faltered into a hard look. “This is hardly the time for joking.”

 

He grinned in response, She didn’t leave —Lucy could have run, left him behind in the chaos, but she stayed. He looked around, scanning the room, and spotted his discarded saddlebag lying among the scattered debris.

 

As Lucy dusted herself off and tied her ponytail back into place, Cooper reached out and grabbed the satchel, his expression hardening when he peered out the doorway. Smoke billowed thickly from the still-burning market, and the fire was spreading fast. No way she’s carrying me and our bags out of here.

 

He tossed the satchel toward her. “Fill this and your bag with anything valuable in here.”

 

Lucy’s eyes bulged. “I don’t have any caps!” she blurted

 

“Me either,” Cooper said flatly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

 

“That's stealing!” she squealed, her voice rising in disbelief.

 

Cooper barely spared her a glance, dismissing her concern with a wave of his hand. "You're gonna do great," he said quickly, turning toward the entrance, reloading his gun, eyes sharp and ready to fire on anyone who tried to come through. His patience frayed as he glanced at her again, seeing the pout on her face. “Listen, sweetheart, this place is gonna go up in flames. Best we salvage supplies before that happens.”

 

Lucy crossed her arms, biting back a retort. Steal. The word felt foreign and uncomfortable in her mind, stirring a knot in her stomach. She shifted uncomfortably, her eyes scanning the room as if the right answer would suddenly appear. 

With a resigned roll of her eyes, she exhaled sharply and turned away, surveying the shop with a focused, determined expression. The gravity of their situation pressed down on her, squeezing out her moral objections. 

 

She began to loot the area, her hands moving quickly and efficiently despite her discomfort. Every rustle and creak in the shop made her senses spike, the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Her fingers trembled slightly, but she forced herself to focus, picking up and inspecting each item before dropping it into the bag.

 

Food rations—small cans and packets—were the first to go in. She couldn’t help but let out a small, triumphant noise when she stumbled upon five of Cooper’s vials. She wiggled them at him, earning a grin and a thumbs-up before he turned back to watching the entrance, ever alert. 

 

Next, she found several stimpacks and RadAway tucked away in a medicine cabinet at the back of the shop. This is very useful.

 She sorted through ammunition, the cold, solid feel of bullets in her hand giving her a strange sense of reassurance. We’ll need this. 

 

She became absorbed in the task, her guilt pushed aside as practicality took over. But just as she allowed herself to relax, a violent explosion rocked the building. A wild scream echoed through the walls, snapping her out of her focus. Her heart lurched in her chest as she crouched down, the adrenaline flooding back full force.

 

"That's our final cue!" Cooper shouted over the growing noise. He pushed himself up on shaky legs, a sharp wince crossed his face. Come on , he urged himself, steadying his body.

 

Then it hit—a final, satisfying click in his back as the broken pieces realigned, a flood of warmth rushing through every nerve. He couldn’t stop the deep groan that escaped his lips, his eyes briefly fluttering shut. Damn, that feels good.

 

His eyes flicked toward Lucy as she emerged from the back of the shop, her bag heavy on her shoulders. She looked at him quizzically, but Cooper gave a quick smirk, shrugging off the moment. Back in business.

 

Ready to go?” he asked, his voice getting rough, he reached for his inhaler, taking a quick puff.

 

Lucy nodded, finally zipping up her bag and handing Cooper his shoulder saddle. She pulled her backpack onto her shoulders, the weight settling uncomfortably as she adjusted it.

 

Cooper let out an impressive whistle as he felt the heft of the bag. "You wanna take the art off the walls too?" he quipped, a teasing glint in his eye despite the urgency.

 

“Huh?” Lucy’s brows knit in confusion, her mind still racing from the noise and chaos outside. The distant sounds of screams and destruction only added to her disorientation.

 

Cooper chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m just saying,” he continued, a smirk pulling at his lips, “you get the five-finger discount once, and you take everything down to the studs.”

 

Lucy’s face clouded with guilt. "I took too much?!" she exclaimed

 

Cooper’s smirk softened as he quickly shook his head. “No, you didn’t take too much," he reassured her, his tone gentler now. He reached out, giving her a light tap on the shoulder.

 

Lucy caught the brief flicker of warmth in his expression as he allowed her to study his face, a rare softness breaking through his usual hard exterior. But just as quickly, his features shifted, as if he’d surprised himself, hardening into the familiar, distant mask. His eyes flicked away, disinterest taking over. “Come on,” he muttered, his voice gruff again. “Let’s get that nose set.”

 

---

 

Lucy and Cooper sat on a rocky perch, the sun sinking low on the horizon, casting a fiery glow over the distant, smoldering market. A mile away, the remnants of its inhabitants gathered in a confused, disoriented crowd, unaware of the pair watching from a distance. Lucy swallowed a handful of dry nuts, their crunch loud in the quiet air. Beside her, Cooper let out another long whistle, his third in the last fifteen minutes.

 

Lucy gulped down a mouthful of clean water, the cool liquid soothing her parched throat. She handed the bottle to Cooper, her attention suddenly caught by movement in the distance. “Look!” she pointed, her voice tinged with excitement. Cooper followed her gaze.

 

From the shadows, Dogmeat emerged, sprinting toward them with eager energy. Relief flooded Lucy as she recognized the familiar shape. She welcomed the dog, arms open wide, Good girl,” she whispered, her fingers sinking into Dogmeat’s fur, the soft coat a comfort against her bruised skin. “You stayed alive.”

 

Cooper watched them from his seat, a rare warmth softening the edges of his normally hardened features. The sight of Lucy with Dogmeat stirred something in him—a flicker of remorse buried deep within his chest.. He shook off the feeling, his eyes turning back to the burning market.

 

Another building collapsed in the distance, sending up a fresh plume of smoke. He let out another low whistle, the destruction both mesmerizing and satisfying.

 

“You sure are a fun time,” he said with a sly grin, glancing over at Lucy. “I ain’t burned down a town in years.” His tone was excited, amused even. Neither of them had started the fire, but Cooper knew how things worked. He took out Don Pedro, and the rest fell like dominoes. And honestly, it had been worth it.

 

Lucy groaned, placing her head in her hands before flinching. She had been putting off resetting her broken nose—first, wanting to escape the chaos, then waiting to find Dogmeat, and now, after finally eating, she had no more excuses. Her mind raced, trying to ignore the dull throb in her face.

 

“I’m ready,” she muttered, ignoring Cooper’s baiting remark.

 

Cooper didn’t hesitate. He turned toward her, his hands reaching for her face. Fingers settled gently on either side of her swollen nose, the touch surprisingly careful. “Ready?” he asked, his breath warm against her. Lucy’s bottom lip quivered as she gave him the smallest nod, her eyes locking with his. “On the count of three..”

 

“Okie dok—” Cooper snapped her nose back into place with a quick motion. Lucy yelped, jerking her head back. “You said you’d count!” she protested, her voice rising in pain.

 

“I did,” Cooper replied with a casual shrug. “In my head.”

 

She groaned, her eyes watering as she scrunched her nose slightly, testing it. The sharp, stabbing pain had dulled to an ache, a relief compared to what it had been. She tilted her head back down, glancing at Cooper through watery eyes. “How’s it look?”

 

Her brows were knitted, and her face was still caked in dried blood, giving her a feral, war-torn look. Cooper’s grin widened, a sly gleam in his eyes.

 

“better than you did before,” he said.

 

Lucy shot him a sidelong glance, heat rising in her cheeks despite the chill settling in the air. She turned away slightly to hide her blush pressing herself closer, stealing the warmth radiating from the ghoul’s body as the temperature dropped.

 

Both of them sat in silence, side by side, as the last remnants of daylight faded, leaving only the quiet hum of the burning market in the distance.

Notes:

Twas I, who set the fire.

Chapter 6: Red-Rocket Red Glare

 

 

Rows of people turned, their faces twisting, stretching—pride, approval, blurry– like looking through warped glass. Her heart swelled at the sight of them, all gathered in the vault’s grand hall, their polished Vault 33 jumpsuits gleaming under the soft lighting. For me. Their eyes tracked her in perfect unison. 

She blinked. 

They clapped. 

A knot twisted in Lucy’s stomach, —a feeling that hadn’t existed during her first wedding.

 

Her hands gripped the fabric of her dress, slick with sweat. Every gaze burned into her, heavy–expectant. Her chest tightened; she had to reach the end of the aisle.  

She was moving, wasn’t she?

She blinked.

 They clapped.

 

The sound rattled in her ears, swelling, louder, faster—but it wasn’t applause. It was a countdown. Her legs moved, but the aisle stretched. 

Stretched.

Why wasn’t she moving? Frustration bubbled as the distance between her and the end of the aisle seemed to grow longer with every step.

 

Then, she was there. 

This time, she was the one in control. This time, it was her choice. 

Max

 

It was the same dress she’d worn before, but today it clung to her, like it were part of her skin. 

 

Her bouquet of  flowers, petals glowing faintly with a radioactive blue. The light pulsed gently, the yellow pollen bulbs flickering like embers, while the deep red center seemed to throb with life. The colors were beautiful, unnatural.

 

Titus stood waiting. His vault suit was crisp, new, freshly tailored to fit his frame. The '33' insignia on his collar gleamed too brightly.

She adjusted her own suit collar off her neck. 

 

His smile was goofy, after kissing her—familiar like he was Chet’s cousin.  When their eyes met, a strange flutter went through Lucy’s stomach, something that felt close to hope.

 

Hank’s presence loomed, his approval hanging in the air. He stood behind Max, watching with an air of authority, his face unreadable. 

 

The vault suit Max wore—Hank had chosen it, presented it like an offering, a mark of validation for Lucy’s "excellent choice." 

This was a new beginning, a clean slate.

 

Her father’s voice filled the room, each word slow, deliberate, as if time itself was bending around his speech. His tone was carved into the very walls of Vault 33. "We are gathered here today for this inevitable union." 

 

The vows were approaching, but something felt wrong. Lucy’s eyes flicked to Max, searching, hoping to find a twinkle in his gaze—a glimmer of reassurance. But his eyes remained empty. 

 

He reached into his pocket, the movement sluggish, his arm dragging through thick air.

 

Lucy’s breath caught, her body refusing to move as she watched. Max pulled out a small tin. Caviar? He held it out to her, the grin on his face sheepish, not quite right.

 

The tin gleamed brighter, too bright, catching the flickering light above and sending a sharp sting into her eyes. Lucy flinched, She opened her mouth to respond, but her father’s voice interrupted.

 

“That’s not good for the baby,” he said smoothly, his tone unchanged.

 

Her eyes dropped instinctively to her arms, where a small, swaddled baby rested, heavier than it should have been. The weight of the child pressed down, too much for her tiny limbs to bear, Norm had started to squirm, his small body shifting and twisting. Lucy blinked, looking up at her mother, silently pleading for relief, to take her baby brother from her.

 

She was sitting on the couch in their family quarters. The walls inched closer with every breath, The baby in her arms felt impossibly heavy, his weight growing, sinking her deeper into the cushions as if trying to pull her into the very fabric of the couch. 

 

Norm’s tiny face was scrunched up, red with frustration, his cries piercing the thick, stale air. Before her mother could intervene, her father’s voice cut through the room.

 

"Leave him. It’s good practice for her," Hank’s voice echoed, as if it were coming from everywhere at once.

 

Rose’s hands faltered, dropping to her sides.

 Lucy’s heart clenched with panic. 

 

Norm’s cries grew louder, his body heavier with every passing second.

 

Her movements were desperate to mimic what she had seen her mother do a thousand times. But her hands felt too small, Norm’s cries stabbed at her ears, each wail louder than the last, reverberating through her skull, filling her head with helplessness. 

She needed him to stop.

 Why wouldn’t he stop?

 

She pulled back to look at his face. His wide brown eyes shimmered with unshed tears, threatening to spill over. "He’s a liar," he whimpered, his voice small and trembling, barely audible over the thudding in her ears. It was the same after every fight with their father—

Norm turning to her.

 

A low, guttural growl rippled through the thick, heavy air, vibrating like something alive beneath the surface. Dogmeat’s ears twitched, her body stiff as stone, eyes locked on the horizon where the wasteland stretched endlessly, barren and unforgiving, its edges blurring and shimmering in the oppressive heat–

                        A figure burst from the shadows—too fast, too wild, limbs jerking like a marionette pulled by invisible strings. A teenager, his eyes wide, desperate, burning with a kind of reckless fire. The gleam of a knife flashed in his hand, slicing through the air in a jagged, stuttering arc. 

He came up behind lucy. 

 

The cold steel grazed Lucy’s neck, but the sting burned deeper than it should have, the pain radiating outward in shockwaves, freezing her in place. Her breath hitched, her mind struggling to catch up, the world around her warping.

 

His voice tore through the suffocating silence, —garbled, distorted, like a broken recording. He stammered, "G-give me all’s you got right now!" 

 

A flicker of anger flashed across Cooper's face, brief but unmistakable. His jaw tightened, as a wave of annoyance had rippled through him.

 

Dogmeat reacted before even Cooper could. She lunged at the boy, her powerful jaws locking onto his leg. The boy’s scream pierced the air—there one moment, gone the next.

 

The distraction was all Lucy needed. She twisted free from his grasp, driving her elbow into his gut with a force that didn’t feel like her own.

 

Her breath came in short, shallow bursts, she turned to face him, heart pounding, When her eyes locked onto his, everything changed.

It was Norm.

 

His expression was twisted in fear and desperation, his wide eyes pleading, Reality twisted and buckled around her, the landscape warping, the lines between past and present blurring.

Norm’s face stared back at her.

 

A loud crack shattered the air, Blood splattered across Lucy’s face, warm and thick, dripping in slow, syrupy drops. 

 

Her hands shook as they moved on their own, wiping at the crimson streaks that seemed to smear and spread no matter how hard she scrubbed.

 

Norm crumpled at her feet, folding in on himself like a discarded rag doll. 

 

She stared, the scene blurring and twisting. 

It wasn’t Norm anymore. The illusion had faded, The teenager was just another casualty of the wasteland, his face unfamiliar and distant.

 

A scream clawed its way up her throat, but it stuck there, silent like swallowed worms in her throat. She couldn’t release it. She turned, the world warping around her, expecting to see Cooper, his gun smoking.

But it wasn’t Cooper.

 

Standing before her was a ghoul yes— Bluish, lifeless skin stretched tight over sharp bones, giving her face an eerie, hollow look. Her eyes were sunken pits, empty and void, One cheek was gone entirely, revealing the pale curve of bone underneath, while her nose had all but disintegrated, leaving behind nothing but a gaping cavity.

 

She was draped in Cooper’s gear, but it hung on her thin frame like he once wore. The long leather trench coat trailed behind her in shreds, the ends tattered and frayed, moving unnaturally in the stale air. A wide-brimmed cowboy hat rested on her head, casting shadows over her ghastly features, Strands of greasy, matted hair hanged limply, framing the decayed ruins of her face.

 

In her skeletal hand, she held Cooper’s gun, the barrel still faintly smoking from the shot. Lucy stared, heart pounding.

 

There was no guilt in those hollow eyes, no regret. Only cold indifference. It was as though the life that had just been taken meant nothing.

 

 As if it didn’t matter at all.

 

Panic rose in her throat, choking her, constricting her chest. The overwhelming, crushing sense of dread suffocated her, making it impossible to breathe. And then the ghoul—she—began to gag. Her body jerked as she coughed, a sick, rasping sound, her chest heaving, throat constricting.

 

Lucy doubled over–And The Ghoul copied. 

 

---

 

  Lucy shot up, her chest heaving as though the nightmare still had its claws in her. The firelight flickered weakly, casting shadows that twisted around the camp, but her gaze snapped to Cooper. His hand hovered mid-reach over the fire, his eyes were slowly studying her.

Dogmeat had jolted awake, muscles tense, her body coiled and ready for action. Her bark tore through the quiet night, a harsh sound that made Lucy’s already frantic heartbeat race even faster.

 

“Hey,” Cooper’s voice cut through the noise, low but firm, A sharp whistle followed. Dogmeat’s ears flicked at the sound, she padded over to Cooper’s side, her tail swaying cautiously. She pressed herself against him, seeking comfort, her tension easing under the slow, rhythmic strokes of his hand moving across her back.

 

The fire crackled softly, its warmth barely touching Lucy despite the chill of the night creeping in around them. But inside her, a different heat raged—the remnants of the dream, the memory of the day, the anger still gnawing at her insides. Her jaw clenched, her lips pressing into a tight, thin line as she forced herself to breathe, to steady her thoughts. It was all a dream. Her mind flashed back to the incident earlier.

 

The trio stilled as the distant sound of a child’s cry drifted through the air, barely audible but unmistakable. It was faint, just a few notes of distress, echoing across the empty neighborhood they were passing through. Lucy’s head snapped in its direction, her eyes narrowing with concern.

 

Dogmeat’s ears perked immediately, her nose twitching as she lifted her head from sniffing the cracked pavement. She glanced toward the noise, then back at Cooper.

 

“Do you hear that?” Lucy whispered, moving toward the sound.

 

Cooper watched her. "It’s a trap," he said, firm and flat. "There’s no kid. They’re baitin’ you." 

 

Dogmeat, off to the side, was sniffing the air. Every now and then, her eyes flicked toward Lucy before tilting her head in the direction of the cry.

 

Lucy paused, her breath catching as she turned toward Cooper, frustration flickering in her eyes. "What if it’s real?" she asked. She couldn’t ignore it, if it was. She squared her shoulders. "I’ll just take a quick look." The confidence in her tone bloomed as her hand hovered near her gun, fingers brushing the grip, though not with the caution the wasteland demanded.

 

"It’s a trap," his words floated after her, lilting with a singsong quality. 

 

She pressed on, each step purposeful, Twenty feet ahead, she rounded a corner, disappearing from sight.

 

Cooper didn’t move. His arms stayed crossed, eyes narrowed, He wasn’t going after her. She needed to learn.

 

Then came the sound. The one he knew was coming.

 

A scuffle—a sharp thud—followed by a muffled grunt. Then her voice, strained and breathless: “Coop—”

 

He was on the move before he could think about it, Dogmeat sprinting beside him. They rounded the corner just in time to see Lucy staggering back, her breath heavy, her hair disheveled, a thin layer of dust clinging to her clothes. She still had her gun, but her eyes darted after a fast-retreating figure, the form disappearing into a vast field of sand. A smaller figure followed, struggling to keep up—a child Her bag— her supplies—bounced with every step the thief took, vanishing further and further into the horizon.

 

Cooper’s eyes flicked to the two retreating figures, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he stepped up beside Lucy. “Oh no—” he drawled, lifting his hand to his cheek in mock surprise. “What happened?”

 

With a sharp intake of breath, Lucy shoved Cooper, her hands smacking against his chest with all the strength she had. He barely moved, just shifted back, the low hum of a chuckle vibrating from him. Before she could withdraw, his hand closed around hers, pinning them to his chest with an ease that made her breath hitch. His other hand rested lazily on the grip of his gun, as if it were an extension of his body.

 “You want me to shoot him?” His voice was too casual, too calm, He tilted his chin toward the fading figure in the distance. “Just say the word.”

 

Lucy’s breath caught, Her eyes falling back to  the retreating figures, each step taking her bag farther away. This is how it works out here, right? He took her bag, she was wrong. So... shooting him– her eyes landed on the child.

 

“What about the child?” she asked. 

 

Cooper hesitated, his eyes flicking to the small figure struggling to keep up. He let out a slow breath. “I’ll shoot the kid too.”

 

The words hit Lucy like a punch to the gut, twisting her stomach into knots. “No!” she whispered,  Then, louder, with more force: “No.” She yanked her hands away from his chest and took a step back, her boot giving a hard stomp to the pavement.

 

Cooper’s jaw clenched. The tension rolled off him in waves. He didn’t agree—she could see it in the way his lips pressed into a thin line, 

 

His voice came out low, “I’m not raising a kid with ya, and it's cruel to leave it alone!” He lifted the gun, aiming at the thief’s back. 

 

Lucy’s heart leapt into her throat. “Then don’t shoot either!” she yelled, almost franitc.

“You need those fucking supplies.” Cooper adjusted his stance, his grip tightening.

“Cooper—please don’t!” Her voice cracked

 

His finger twitched against the trigger, the thought of pulling it as simple as breathing. It would be so easy—shut her out, shut those fucking eyes out. He could return to the cold, unfeeling rhythm that had kept him alive for so long, distance himself from whatever this was—this connection, this hesitation. But then, that sound—her voice, trembling, breaking as she said his name—hit him like a hammer to the chest.

 

He paused, just long enough for her to think he might do it, to believe he would, because that’s what he did. But instead of the cold finality of the shot, he let out a slow, measured breath., 

 

He lowered the gun and turned away. 

 

His voice came out sharp, as he passed her, “I’m not sharing.” If she dies from starvation, he’ll be rid of her faster. 

 

The silence that followed had hung heavy between them, pulling their fragile bond back into the tense, unspoken resentment of their early days without the orgasms. 

 

Now, even the crackling fire couldn’t fill the void.

 

Cooper’s face remained composed, His fingers moved slowly through Dogmeat’s fur, —every stroke a reminder of the distance that had grown between them. 

 

He doesn’t know why he’s doing this. He’s catching himself leaning in, enjoying the banter, and it pisses him off. He knows she’s testing his limits. And sure, he pushes back—always does—but it’s starting to feel different. and the worst part? He kind of likes it. Fuck. He likes her. And even as self deprecating as he is, he’s actually fairly certain she kinda likes him too. Disgusting. But there it was.

 

Lucy lay on her side, staring across the fire at Cooper, her eyes tracing the lines of his face in the flickering glow. The shadows dipping into the creases of his furrowed brow. 

 

Cooper sat with his arms crossed, pretending not to notice her. He could could sense her trying to bridge the silence between them, but he wasn’t about to give in. Not tonight. 

 

The longer she stared, the more restless she became. She wanted to say something—anything— She searched his face for any sign of softening, for a crack in that stoic mask he wore so well, but there was nothing. 

 

She sighed quietly. She rolled over, pulling her arms tight around her and letting the cool desert air settle against her skin. She stared into the darkness for a while longer, her mind racing with the unsaid, before sleep finally pulled her under.

 

---

 

Lucy was spent. Her cheeks were raw and flushed from the sunburn that blazed across her face. Sweat trickled down her brow, mixing with the ever-present dust of the wasteland. The memory of that morning gnawed at her—a face-to-face encounter with a Deathclaw, the most terrifying creature she’d ever laid eyes on.

 

The Deathclaw towered over them, its scales gleaming like jagged obsidian in the harsh sunlight, thick claws gouging the earth with every step. Its yellow eyes, full of primal fury, locked onto them, sending a shudder through Lucy’s bones.

She had turned to him, round eyes curtained by slanted brows.

"I defer to you about what to do in this situation." 

He didn't say anything. He just grabbed her by the arm, half-dragging her as the beast’s earth-shaking footsteps thundered behind them.

They had barely escaped.

 

Dogmeat sensed the danger at the time, bolting into self-preservation mode. She disappeared into the wasteland without a second thought, only to find them again hours later.

 

It took everything Lucy had—every last drop of energy she didn’t know existed—to keep running, to keep pushing forward as the Deathclaw’s relentless pursuit sent her heart pounding in her ears. By the time they finally lost it, her legs felt like jelly, her lungs on fire with each ragged breath. And just as Cooper had promised, he hadn’t shared his water.

 

Now her body screamed for rest, for water, for anything to quench the relentless ache of an empty stomach and overworked muscles. When her eyes caught the shimmer of a basin in the distance, she didn’t think—she dropped to her knees as if the earth itself had pulled her down.

 

The water was filthy, its surface a sickly, greenish reflection of the sky above, but Lucy didn’t care. She plunged her hands into the basin, gulping down the tainted liquid. It burned her throat, settling like poison in her gut. The sharp, metallic tang clung to her tongue, but her thirst was so desperate it overpowered the taste.

 

Cooper didn’t say a word. No sarcasm, no biting remarks. Instead, he knelt beside her, his face set in an unreadable mask. His hand slid beneath her arm, pulling her to her feet, firm but gentle. 

 

He led her to another puddle, this one just as murky and foul-smelling.

 

“This one,” Cooper said “has less radiation than the other.”

 

First Lucy was astonished. Her Pip-Boy blinked erratically, struggling to distinguish between the two poison puddles. She glanced at him, That's right-  He could smell the radiation. 

 

Then —the irritation she still harbored for his earlier behavior returned. She wanted to be mad about his willingness to kill a child, but blaming him for something he didn’t do seemed pointless. She could be angry about him not offering her water, but then again, she hadn’t asked. Wait… no. He could give her water. I deserve that much.

 

Her father had always idolized Cooper Howard, treating him like some unreachable relic of a lost world. Now Lucy knew the truth—her dad hadn’t admired Cooper from a distance like her. 

 

Lucy stole another glance at Cooper. His eyes were trained on the horizon, never lingering on her. No anger, no mockery. Just silence. Her thoughts wandered as she recalled the intensity of their last encounter—She flushed at the memory of him lifting her like she weighed nothing, grinding her against him with a strength that still sent shivers through her. Her mind, then, wandered—to Max. Guilt coiled in her chest.

 

The invitation to Vault 33 hung in limbo, and she wasn’t sure if she’d ever return. She could still see Max’s face, the joy in his eyes when she kissed him, the innocence in that moment.

 

It reminded her of Chet—who had changed after their intimacy, clinging to her every word and gesture in a way that suffocated her. Affection had become currency, something to barter with, and the memory of that power made her uneasy.

 

Marriage. Duty. In Vault 33, it had been laid out so clearly. Partners for procreation, lives built for the purpose of continuation. But out here, things were different. There was freedom, and it stirred something wild within her. She was hopeful that she’d be allowed to choose Max. She glanced at Cooper again. 

 

Cooper wasn’t like Max—

 

Her pulse quickened. She had no right to dwell on any of it. She glanced away.

 

---

 After the Deathclaw, she had hoped that nearly dying together might bring them naturally closer, but Cooper remained the same: quiet, unreadable, a steady presence that had both infuriated and intrigued her since the moment they’d met.

 

Lucy took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. She picked up her pace, slipping alongside him,  With a playful nudge, she asked, “So, you got a family?”

 

He felt her eyes on him but resisted the tug. “That’s off the table,” he said, shaking his head to dismiss the conversation.

 

Lucy’s lips pressed into a tight line, a flicker of irritation crossing her face. “That's Fine ,” she muttered,  “I’ve accepted that you’re more of a gunslinger than a conversation-slinger,” she quipped.

 

Cooper stopped abruptly.

 

Her heart quickened at the unexpected pause, excitement fluttering in her chest. Was he actually going to engage? He crossed his arms.

 

“What?” he asked.

 

Lucy’s cheeks flushed faintly. The nerves rushed in causing her to Bouncing lightly on her feet. She tucked her arms behind her back,  “Oh, nothing,” she said, feigning innocence.

 

Cooper narrowed his eyes.

 

“I just noticed,” Lucy continued, her voice soft “that if I want to get anywhere with you, I have to make the first move.” Her tone was light, Then, she quickly added, “I mean… conversationally .” she purred.

 

With a gentle nudge, she lightly tapped his crossed arms, grinning as her gaze traveled down his body, her lip caught between her teeth for just a second- for fun. 

 

Cooper scoffed and Lucy stepped closer. He dropped his arms creating room for her to press against him. She pouted her lips and leaned in, her breath warm as it grazed his jaw line, “I’m sure you’re not timid in other aspects of your life,” she murmured.

 

Despite his best efforts, muscles tense as he locked onto her gaze. Her pupils dilated, and he was taken.  

 

It wasn’t just her closeness that stirred him—there was a fearlessness in the way she moved that he found himself admiring. His fingers twitched, resisting the urge to touch her, a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth to conceal his nerves. 

 

His voice dropped to a slow, gravelly drawl as he leaned down to meet the graze of her forehead.  “And what aspects may those be?” he asked against her sweaty hairline.

 

Lucy’s pulled away lightly to meet his eyes. Her lips parted slightly- then she couldn’t suppress a smile “Why, gunslinging, of course,” she replied, in a dramatic impression of his southern drawl.

 

With a playful jump, Lucy pulled back, planting her hands on her hips and forming finger guns, “Pew, pew,” she spit, spinning on her heel and striding ahead. Her laughter was light and musical as it danced on the desert wind.

 

Cooper stood there, momentarily stunned.

 

His eyes were entranced by the rhythmic swing of her ponytail. —He’d been quietly guiding them toward Jacobstown, a settlement where they could gather supplies without drawing attention to his ghoul status. It wasn’t exactly safe, but safer than most places. He began to move. 

 

As he watched Lucy’s retreating form, his mind churned. Their earlier argument about the bag still simmered beneath his skin, frustrating him more than he wanted to admit. He was annoyed. 

 

Lucy, for her part, was undeterred from asking him questions. She slowed her pace, turning to walk backward a few steps ahead of him, her eyes full of quiet determination. She glanced at him, gauging his mood before speaking again. “What’s your favorite color?”

Cooper watches her and ponders the question. It’s trivial but harmless. "Blue and yellow," he answered with a shrug.

 

 Lucy's eyes go wide, "But–" 

 

Cooper interrupts her with a resigned sigh, shaking his head. "I know, I know," he says, tapping his chest with a mock possessiveness. "They were my favorite colors first." 

 

Her mind clicked as something dawned on her. She caught him observing her with that same intense focus and quickly shifted the subject away from Vault-Tec. “So... does that mean you like my outfit?” she teased.

 

 “I like you in your outfit.” 

 

Lucy’s cheeks flushed deep pink, and she spun on her heels, walking ahead. She didn’t quite know how to respond to that.

 

He leaned into his old charm. “What about you? Got a favorite color?” he drawled lazily.

 

 Lucy quickly pivots, her enthusiasm reignited. "It's definitely red!" she declares, her eyes sparkling. 

 

Cooper arches his brow line.

 

 "Really!-" She shouted. "On my wedding day, I wore red lipstick and, of course, a beautiful wedding dress." Her voice softens as she gazes off into the distance, lost in the memory."I had never felt so beautiful," she murmurs, her fingers absently brushing the air as if still feeling the fabric of the dress. 

 

Cooper spotted the hazard just in time—an old, rusted paint can lying in Lucy's path. Without missing a beat, he reached out mid-stride, his hand gripping her arm with a firm but gentle touch, guiding her smoothly to her right, his left. The motion was quick, almost instinctive, as he steered her away from the obstacle. Lucy startled slightly, her gaze darting down just in time to see the can she’d almost tripped over, but she quickly regained her balance, adjusting with ease.

Without breaking stride, Cooper’s voice cut through the moment, carrying a hint of disbelief. “You’re married?” 

 

 Lucy rolls of her eyes. "For less than 24 hours– He turned out to be a secret raider; Part of the raid to kidnap my dad." She recounts the story with a shrug. "He stabbed me, I slit his face open,and then my dad hit him over the head with a shovel and drowned him in a pickle barrel." Her voice trails off, and a flicker of something darker crossed her face, Another death at my dad's hands.

 

Her expression shifts as she subtly steels herself, "Are you married?" 

 

He struggles to process the events she described. Then inwardly groans at the natural redirect, "I'm divorced," he answers.

 

He watches her delicate features soften with happiness, her lips curving into a perfect arc, and her cheeks glowing with a rosy hue. She smiled, pleased with Cooper's response. "Thank you for telling me," she said, Her eyes sparkled with sincerity, and a warmer smile spread across her face, softening her features even further. 

 

Cooper remains silent in response, so Lucy takes her victory and turns back around. 

 

He watched Lucy walk ahead, her laughter still echoing in his ears like a stubborn reminder of everything he was trying to ignore. His jaw tightened, muscles tensing as his eyes followed her, despite himself. Damn her .

 

She was a distraction— a dumb one at that. Flirting, nudging, all that playful nonsense. He had no time for it. They were in the middle of the wasteland, with danger around every corner, and here he was, letting himself get tangled up in her games.

 

They continue in a comfortable silence, with Cooper occasionally calling out directions for Lucy to follow as she walks ahead, unaware of their destination. Dogmeat strolls between them, her paws effortlessly navigating the rough terrain.

 

---

 

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the Mojave Wasteland, a distant structure emerged against the fading light. Its silhouette sharpened with each step, a hulking reminder of the world that once was. Lucy shaded her eyes, squinting through the chocolate haze to get a clearer look.

 

She turned toward Cooper, her hand gesturing toward a dilapidated gas station a few yards ahead. "Can we stop early tonight? Might be the last shelter we see for miles," she said.

 

Cooper halted, following her gaze to the rundown building. The faded Red Rocket sign still clung to its frame, though time had worn away most of the paint. The walls, cracked and weathered, still stood firm, a rare sight in the desolate landscape. He studied it for a moment longer, weighing its potential as a refuge. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

 

His eyes shifted back to Lucy, noting the tired lines on her face, the way her body sagged from the day’s relentless march. She was worn down, and though he’d never admit it, so was he.

 

He gave a curt nod. "Yeah, it'll hold for the night."

 

They made their way toward the battered structure. For the first three nights, they’d been lucky enough to find powered shelters, but last night that luck had run out. Tonight, the gas station would also have to do.

 

Dogmeat had darted off, likely in pursuit of something to hunt. After a quick perimeter sweep and ensuring the gas station was free of immediate threats, Lucy and Cooper ventured inside. The interior offered little beyond the scattered debris of a long-abandoned past—remnants of lives lived in fleeting moments of survival. In the back, they found what appeared to be a makeshift break room, where someone had clearly sought refuge before. An old, ratty couch sagged in one corner, surrounded by bits of useless junk, worn down by time.

 

Lucy fell to the couch, the worn leather creaking under its weight. She exhaled, the tension of the day’s journey easing as she allowed herself a brief moment of rest. She shifted toward Cooper. 

 

Reaching beneath his coat, he retrieved his canteen with the same practiced ease that defined everything he did. The bottle, battered and dull, glinted weakly in the fading light. He dropped his saddlebag to the floor and removed his gloves with a slow, motion before unscrewing the cap. 

 

Lifting the canteen to his lips, he took a long, refreshing sip, the cool water soothing his parched throat. A quiet groan escaped him, a rare sound of satisfaction that made Lucy’s gaze lock onto him. 

 

A playful glint sparked in his eyes. Cooper tipped his head back, exaggerating his next gulp. The glistening arc of water caught the dim light, and Lucy’s pupils dilated.

 

Cooper smirked and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. A few steps, and he was infront of her extending  the canteen.

 

Lucy hesitated, before Her lips curled into a faint, reluctant smile. She reached for the canteen and drank what she could, careful not to take too much. When she finished, her eyes caught something strange, something unexpected on Cooper’s hand.

 

 “Is that... my finger?” she blurted, pointing with her own gray, dead finger, irony sinking in with the realization.

 

Cooper remained perfectly composed, only glancing at the appendage that didn’t quite match the rest of his hand—a contrast of pale flesh against his red weathered skin.

 

“My finger now, sweetheart,” he said casually, “Got it fair and square.” he turned around pretending to survey the room.

 

 He spoke with a sense of certainty, like he’d won some twisted version of a prize. He wouldn’t be apologizing to Mrs. Golden-Rule. However, A silent fear lingers in the back of his mind. He's been relishing the energy of their interactions over the past two hours and hopes that the unexpected reminder about the 'Finger Incident' won't cast a shadow over their evening.

 

 He turned when he felt her move behind him. He couldn't tell what she was thinking. If she was angry. She would often wear a blank expression where he thought she'd have a reaction.

 

 To his surprise, she reaches out and gently pulls back his left lapel, her touch gentle yet purposeful.  Lucy slips the canteen back into its holster as Cooper stood still, allowing it. Silently relishing the closeness, the quiet intimacy of the gesture.

 

Then, she lingered, her eyes drifting down to his hand. He tensed, waiting. Until she took his hand gently in her own. She turned it over slowly, inspecting it with that curious gleam he had come to recognize in her. A feather touch of her gray finger and He flinched. The feeling unfamiliar to his scars. He kept still, letting her explore the line where her body had merged with his. 

 

“It’s... fused to you?” she asked softly.

 

Cooper hesitated. He didn’t want to go into it,  But something in her gaze disarmed him. “Yeah,” he murmured,  “It’s a ghoul thing. I can stick some parts back on... if I act fast enough.”

 Almost immediately, he regreted divulging this information. He doesn't want to delve into the parts of his past that are best left buried—the parts of him that didn't make it back. 

 She only nodded lightly, her lips curving into a faint smile, and somehow that simple gesture of not pressing further, felt heavier than anything else.

 

Before he could process it, she moved again—closer this time. Her hand slipped into his other, fingers interlocking with his as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The warmth of her touch mixed with the cold of her skin, sending a pulse of heat straight through him. If he could blush, his face would be burning right now.

 

He shouldn’t let her do this. He shouldn’t be letting her weave her way into his space, into his head. He’s a bad bad man for letting her get this close.

 

And still, he didn’t pull away.

 

Her eyes were locked onto him, her gaze a little too intense, too probing for Cooper’s comfort. It wasn’t just a glance—she was studying him, and he could feel it. A slow burn of anger simmered beneath his skin as he wondered if she was trying to see beyond the man he’d become, to uncover the face he once had. She knew that face. He knew she did. And he hated the thought of her searching for it, digging into something long dead.

 

With a sharp intake of breath, he jerked back, trying to retreat. Her grip tightened around his hand. A silent challenge wrapped in softness, holding him in place when all he wanted was to pull away

 

“I got something on my face?” he snapped. The hostility hung in the air between them, as Lucy’s smile didn’t falter. A flicker of bashfulness only crossed her face, as if his outburst was endearing. It gnawed at him—how she could stand there, smiling, calm. While the anger in him churned hotter, unable to comprehend what she found so damn amusing.

 

But it wasn’t amusement that kept her gaze steady. It was fascination.

 

He's utterly handsome- Lucy was captivated by his eyes—those eyes that seemed to hold the weight of a hundred lifetimes, sunken into the harsh lines of his gaunt face, yet shining with a depth she couldn’t look away from. His cheekbones, sharp and defined, cast shadows that deepened the intrigue of his features, giving his face a rugged, almost haunting beauty. She had long stopped noticing the absence of his nose, her growing familiarity with him making the detail fade into the background of his presence.

 

Her senses were caught in him. On the surface, everything smelled—the air, the world, the decay of humanity—but Cooper carried something else. His scent was raw, elemental. A heady mix of leather, gunpowder, and sweat that clung to him like the wasteland itself. It wasn’t pleasant in a traditional sense, but it was undeniably him . It spoke of endless battles, of blood and dust and nights spent under open skies with nothing but the crackle of a fire for company. 

 

Lucy found herself leaning in, drawn not just by the man, but by everything he embodied. She could almost taste the air around him.

 

Summoning a surge of courage, Lucy blurted out the question that had been lingering at the edge of her thoughts for too long.

 

"Would you like to have sex?" 

 

Cooper blinked. He knew she was direct but, that's just skipping to the end. "Have you even had sex before?" he shot, Buying time for his own answer. Though he thought the answer may be yes. —he’d felt her hips press against him, and that kind of movement wasn’t an amateur hour. 

 

His body responded immediately, heat pooling in his core, his cock stiffening at the thought. She’s been married , he reminded himself, a lot could happen in 24 hours—but still, the question lingered in his mind. He wanted to know for certain. 

 

Lucy rolls her eyes, "Yes, of course, I've been sexually active since I was 15 with my cousin Chet and, of course, my husband."

 

"Cousin?" Cooper interrupts, he wasn't expecting that.

 

Lucy holds up her hands, "Don't worry, I knew it wasn't a sustainable sexual practice, unlike Chet of course." Her big eyes look off into the distance, thinking of his unhealthy attachment to her.

 

Cooper speaks up, "Your daddy know you fooled around with your cousin?"

 

Lucy’s brow furrowed in mild offense. "Well, yes. There wasn’t anyone else in my age range for me to release my sexual energy, same for Chet. It was practical.”

 

Cooper’s face twisted with a grimace. “What kinda warped sex education are they teaching in the vaults?”

 

Lucy scoffed, her shoulders tensing as she turned away slightly. This wasn’t how asking was supposed to go. Max had also hesitated before when she'd asked, but his rejection dripped with the same sense of duty she’d been raised on.

 

With Cooper’s drawn-out silence, his calm refusal to jump at her proposal, was starting to unravel her. A flicker of frustration sparked in her chest, “The Vault’s education teaches us that sexual release is as essential as eating or sleeping. It keeps us stable—mentally, emotionally... even physically. It’s all science, really.”

 

Cooper’s eyes flicked across her body, lingering for a moment as he processed her words. His lips curled into something between a smirk and a grimace “Science, huh…” He paused, pursing his lips around the next words. “Anything in that book of yours written by a... Sigmund Freud?”

 

Lucy’s face lit up as she turned back toward him, beaming. “Yes! You know about Freud?” Her voice carried with excitement.

 

Cooper tilted his head toward the ceiling. God...  Frequent, almost prescribed sex—another way to keep people in line, to control them. A low, exasperated breath escaped him as his fingers instinctively reached up to pinch the bridge where his nose once was. “This is what you wanted, Barb?” he muttered, as though pleading with the universe itself.

 

“Barb?” Lucy’s brow furrowed, She watched Cooper's movements, the tension in his shoulders and the simmering discontent woven into his voice. “Is Barb... the name of your god?”

 

Cooper froze, surprised by his own actions. The name had slipped from his lips for the first time in...God knows how many years. He definitely hadn’t meant to say it out loud.  A flicker of something dark crossed his face, and for a moment, it seemed like he might snap at her. But instead, he stepped forward, his voice dropping low, “No,” he said, “It’s the name of my devil.”

 

His instincts screamed at him to reach for her, to close the gap, to pull her away from the twisted ideas she’d been taught. But he hesitated. He needed to ask. He needed to know.

 

“What would you get out of it?” His voice was quieter now. 

 

Lucy blinked, partially caught off guard by the question. "What?"

 

Cooper rolled his eyes. "Why. do. you. want. to. have. sex. with. ME?" 

 

She had assumed the request for sex was self explanatory.  “Well...hopefully to have an orgasm,” she started,then added with a confident glint, “I would say if you're good enough, but I’m good enough that I know I’ll get there.” Her lips curled into a self-assured smile. 

 

Cooper let out a low, almost imperceptible grunt. She's too sexy for her own good.  With her confirmation of sexual experience, a part of him that had remained dormant began to stir. He wanted to show her what it was like when someone else took the reins, not her finding her own release through her own cheat codes.

 

His frustration had nearly simmered out of his system.  “You’re not worried about the radiation?” 

 

Lucy tilted her head,  “How would it affect our sex?” she asked, the lightness of her tone clashing with the gravity of his concern.

 

Our sex. He inwardly cursed at how much the idea turned him on. But he couldn't believe she could be that naive  “What do you think will happen, sweetheart? Think about your hickey.” he said.

 

Lucy bit her lip, her hand flying up to gently prod he scarring skin.  “Can we get more Radaway?” she asked, She mentally flinched. All mine had been taken. Disappointment crept into her features as she began to accept that this might not happen.

 

Cooper, on the other hand, could barely believe what he was hearing. He stared at the creature before him. In his mind, he began calculating the nearest places to score Radaway, the practical part of him noting that Jacobstown was their best bet.

 

And then, like a haunting echo from his past, he was reminded of his teenage self—back when his first girlfriend had brought up the subject of sex. He hadn’t seen it coming then, either, and he’d spent an entire afternoon searching for condoms in a store far enough away from his father’s watchful eyes.

 

But this was different. He wasn’t that naive kid anymore. He should say no . He should be the good guy, draw the line, tell her he liked her too much to let his hunger consume her. Because he did like her. 

 

Gently, he released her hands, letting them fall by their sides.

 

Before disappointment could settle within her, his hands found her shoulders, large and strong, gliding softly, then growing firmer, more insistent.

 

His fingers pressed into her skin. Her breath hitched as her body responded, eyes fluttering closed under the soothing pressure of his touch. The tenderness was unexpected, but it kindled something deeper inside her, pulling her into a space where words no longer mattered.

 

Cooper couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion that this might all be a ruse. He waited for Lucy to pull away, half expecting her to slip back into her usual demeanor, tossing out innocent jokes and questions like earlier—

 

But now, as he watched Her lips part with soft, breathy sound, A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. I can’t be expected to care for something this delicate , he thought.

 

His eyes lingered on her nose, still bruised, a deep purple and blue from where it had been broken not long ago. Delicate? No, not quite.

 

His fingers slid slowly along her clavicle, tracing the curve of her neck. He avoided the fresh cut from the day before, his fingers skimming over her skin like he knew every inch of her. His large hands wrapped around her neck, applying the faintest pressure at her collarbone before releasing, exploring with cautious intent.

 

Her skin was soft and warm, the muscles beneath pliant, giving in to his every movement. He felt her body melt further into his hands, her breathing shallower now, rhythmic.

 

Lucy’s mind raced, a flood of emotions swirling—arousal intertwining with an unexpected respect for his restraint. She relished the moment, savoring the heat of his hands, the way he both claimed and held back, leaving her wanting more.

 

He was caught in a whirlwind of desire and control. Her subtle reactions, the way her body responded to him—it was intoxicating. The thrill of touching her, Shes so soft of making her bend to his will, was a rush he hadn’t anticipated.

 

Lucy’s heart skipped a beat when she first felt his hand at her neck. Whats this? A flicker of fear flashed in her eyes, unsure of his intentions. But when the pressure remained gentle, never restricting her breathing. Instead of fear, something darker, deeper, bloomed within her. Oh.

 

Arousal pooled low in her belly, creeping up with every second his hands lingered on her.

 

Cooper maintained eye contact, searching her face for any sign that told him to stop. But there was nothing. No hesitation. Only the unspoken invitation to continue. His pulse quickened, and with a final spark of acceptance, he made his move.

 

His hands pressed lightly against her clavicle, guiding her back until her back met the rough, cracked wall. The impact was gentle, but it knocked a small gasp from her lips, and as he closed the space between them, his bulky gear pressed awkwardly against her body. Making the moment all the more raw, more real.

 

Leaning in, his hat created a shadow over them, a makeshift canopy that added to the growing tension. The brim nearly brushed her forehead as his face hovered close, his breath warm against her skin.

 

Arousal mounted as she waited for him to make a move, a real move. She wanted him to want her.

 

His breath ghosted over her face, and her eyes fluttered closed, expecting his lips to crash into hers. But instead, his voice, hot; whispered into her ear.

 

“You like teasing me, don’t you?” 

 

Her breath hitched at the closeness, at the low gravel in his voice. She opened her eyes, defiant and wild, “I do,” she whispered back.

Cooper’s eyes darkened with a dangerous mix of amusement and desire. His fingers traced the line of her jaw, "What if I’ve had enough of your little taunts?” his voice rougher now, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “What if I decided to do something about it?”

He felt her sharp inhale, could see the effect his words had on her. He shifted slightly, his gaze steady on her face, watching for any flicker of doubt, any sign that she wasn’t fully with him.

 

But when her eyes met his, wide and wanting, she gave him the answer he craved. “I think I’d like that too,” her voice was soft but sure, sealing the moment between them. It's all I want.

 

Cooper’s heart thundered against his ribcage, That'll do it. His thumbs gently massaged just beneath Lucy’s ears, applying tender pressure that coaxed her closer. With a slow, deliberate move, their lips met. Chapped against irradiated, a desperate yes unspoken between them.

 

The kiss began slowly, it was a dance of desire, Her mouth opened and their tongues met in a heated caress. Good thing he doesn't have a nose , she mused, realizing how it would have bumped against her still-sore one. Making this closeness unbearable.

 

But as it was, there was nothing in the way, just the fierce pull of their lust. Lucy’s soft whimper of appreciation spurred him on, the sound igniting a hunger inside him. Her body quaked with need, the dull ache between her legs growing stronger, tormenting her with each passing second.

 

Cooper’s fingers tangled in the messy strands of her ponytail, grazing her scalp in slow, deliberate strokes. I love her hair.

 

The touch sent shivers down her spine, her body melting. His fingers continued to explore, weaving through her hair and gently massaging the tension from her scalp, coaxing her closer still.

 

Lucy wrapped her arms around his neck, the weight of her Pip-Boy brushing against him and dislodging his hat to the floor. Forgotten, as she pulled him closer.

 

She could feel the restrained power in his muscles, the way his body responded to her, each breath evidence of his barely contained desire. A slight shift from him brought his hardened length against her stomach, and she gasped—her breath catching at the undeniable, aching length pressed against her. YES!

 

Cooper’s hand slid down her back, tracing the delicate curve of her spine with slow precision.  When his hands reached her waist, he pulled her closer, his grip tightening with a need that mirrored her own. The possessiveness in his touch mingled with tenderness, leaving her breathless, her skin alight with sensation.

 

It wasn’t enough. The pressure of their bodies, so close yet somehow not close enough, was driving Lucy wild. Her hands slid down to grip his ass, her fingers digging into his flesh with purpose. With a sharp pull, she brought him harder against her core, the contact sending jolts of excitement through her. She let out a gasp, the sudden friction sparking a rush of heat.

 

Cooper groaned low in his throat, “Is this what you want?” he rasped. He pulled back,  his gaze searching her. Trying to decipher her motives, to understand what she really wanted from him. “You want me to be rough with you? Mean?” The question hung heavy between them, curiosity and doubt mixing with the undeniable pull between them. He wondered if this was just a phase for her, a craving for something dark and dangerous—a craving for the man who had taken her finger.

 

His hands slipped from her hair, but he didn’t let go. He pulled her away from the wall, bringing her into a firm, standing embrace. Their bodies moved together, a tangled dance of passion—forearms gliding across backs, hands exploring every curve, every angle. Cooper nuzzled his face into her hair, brushing his lips along her crown in a gentle contrast to the fervor building between them.

 

Lucy’s mind was a whirlwind, her body caught between arousal and anticipation. When she felt his strong hands grip her waist, pulling her tighter, she expected him to go further. But his words lingered, challenging her. She met his gaze, wide-eyed but steady. “No,” she said.

 

Cooper stilled, his movements faltering at her unexpected response. He loosened his grip, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes, confusion and surprise flashing across his face. But Lucy, sensing his hesitation, tightened her hold on him, refusing to let him retreat.

 

“I don’t want you to be rough and mean,” she continued, I wan't the Hero. “I want you to be rough and nice to me.” There was a nervous edge to her confession, a fear that expressing her desires might push him away, might shatter the image of the bad guy he’d carefully crafted.

 

Cooper was speechless, caught between the persona he’d built and the warmth of her words. But She wasn’t changing her mind, that's what mattered. Thank God.

 

His expression shifted into something darker, more possessive. Without warning, he swooped down, crashing his lips into hers with a fervor that caught her off guard. Lucy let out a startled squeak, but quickly gave in, her body responding to his intensity with equal urgency.

 

“I can be nice, sweetheart,” Cooper murmured against her lips. His fingers dug hard into her waist. “I can be real nice.” 

 

She shuddered, the sound sending a fresh wave of arousal coursing through her.

 

Pulling her impossibly closer until there was no space left between them, their bodies pressed flush. The heat between them was tangible, a shared warmth that seeped into their very cores. His touch was a contradiction—demanding and gentle, harsh and considerate. It mirrored the push and pull of their desires, each touch leaving her breathless, each kiss igniting something deeper.

 

Lucy’s breath hitched as his lips trailed along her jaw, leaving a path of fire in their wake. His mouth found her neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin, each touch sparking waves of electricity that radiated through her body. She clung to him, her nails digging into his back in silent plea for more.

 

Notes:

I imagine if Lucy ever became a ghoul, she would look like Emily from 'Corpse Bride'

Chapter 7: Minutes of Heaven

Notes:

Here is sum'n smutty. See you on the other side.

Cooper's lips part from hers with a wet, smack. "Help a fella out?" the corners of his mouth lifting in a playful smirk as he nods toward his ammo sash.

 

Lucy's dazed expression blossoms into a bubbly smile. "Okie-dokie," she chirps, she drifting toward him.

 

Her fingers tremble with the buckle of his bandolier. A determined pull and the strap loosens, tumbling it to the ground behind them. At the same time, Cooper's hands move swiftly to his gun holster. Quickly the belt thuds to the ground at their feet, momentarily forgotten

 

She shifts her attention to the shoulder canteen strap, as Cooper begins to peel off his jacket, the worn leather whispering as it slides down his broad shoulders. Beneath, his faded dirt-blue shirt clings to his frame, a subtle yellow accent peeking out from under a leather vest. His gaze holds steady on Lucy, absorbing the flushed warmth of her cheeks and the faint parting of her lips. Her brows are furrowed slightly, silently broadcasting her escalating frustration.

 

"Damn stubborn ol'..." Lucy mutters, her fingers wrestling with the resistant buckle. Her face shifts, sweeping away the last traces of her previous daze. "Too many accessories." she said, Each word punctuated by a dismissive shake of her head.

 

Cooper adjusts his stance, lightly raising his right arm. Hi s eyes shimmer as he watches her fumble She's really makin’ a meal outta this-  

 

"Any time now,"  He smirks.

 

A frustrated puff escapes her.  She pauses her efforts, gesturing defiantly toward the stubborn strap. “If it’s so easy, why don’t you do it?” 

 

Cooper subtly leans his weight to the left, facilitating the strap's descent. The leather gracefully cascaded down and away from his body. The movement was smooth, practiced.

 

Lucy’s mouth drops open. Her wide eyes following the canteen. A soft thud marks its landing and She snaps her gaze back to him, “You—

 

Cooper’s lips crash against hers, cutting off her protest as if he’s drowning and she’s his only breath. The world lurches around them, spun by the force of his need. She gasps, the sound swallowed by the fierce, insistent press of his mouth. His hands grip her waist with a possessive urgency, hoisting her off the ground as if he can’t bear to be apart from her for even a second. Lucy’s legs wrap around his waist, pulled by a primal instinct to close the aching distance between them.

 

He strides forward , carrying her as if she weighs nothing, her body tight against his. Their lips remain locked in a desperate dance, a raw, unspoken plea passing between them. Her breath catches as he slams her against the wall, the impact jarring but igniting something deep within her. He pulls back just enough to leave her gasping.

 

His palms sweep up her sides. Thumbs tracing delicate circles just shy of her armpits. A quick, sharp intake of breath escapes her. The ripple of ticklish sensations dancing across her skin, Leaving her shivering in anticipation. Against the firm backdrop of the wall, Cooper gently guides her arms from his neck, lifting them despite the awkward bulk of her Pip-Boy.

 

Their fingers lace together, his right hand gripping both of hers with a fierce, unyielding hold. His left hand moves with purpose, sliding beneath her to pull her closer, forcing their bodies into alignment despite their differences in height.

 

His hips, clad in rough corduroy, thrust upward. Bingo. He grinds against her, the pressure unmistakable as he seeks her warmth through the frustrating barrier of fabric.  A low, guttural sound escapes him, echoed by a breathy moan from her, their voices blending in a desperate harmony of need. His movements are less controlled now, rougher, as he drives himself against her entrance to the gentle catch of her clit.

 

 Cooper presses his face against her skin, his breath a heated whisper across the pulse that quickens beneath his lips. His hips move with rhythmic precision, each motion a testament to his devotion, his desire. With every thrust upward, a low vibration emanates from him, echoing through her with a fervent pulse.

 

Lucy’s thoughts whirl, racing even faster than her heart. This is... incredible she marvels inwardly This feels a hundred times better than literal sex with Monty The idea of embracing this bliss daily, of returning home to this fervor, dances through her mind, only to be swept aside as Cooper’s lips find a tender spot on her neck, weaving their sensual spell. Lucy gasps, a sound borne of pure pleasure.

 

Her senses teeter on the edge of overload as Cooper’s breath, hot and heavy, brushes her damp skin. A drawn-out whine escapes her throat, resonating with mounting pleasure.

 

Sensing the swell of his climax nearing, he mindfully adjusts, deliberately slowing his movements to modulate the intensity.

 

His teeth graze sensitive skin before he abruptly pulls away. Releasing her hands with a swift motion, he lowers her back to the ground. Her feet meet the floor with a soft thud, a flash of frustration crossing her face as she mourns the abrupt distance between them, her arms falling to her sides.

 

Cooper catches the shift in her expression. Instead of a smirk, he seizes her chin up with a rough hand and captures her lips. More demanding than tender, then pulls away.

 

His fingers hover over the zipper of her attire, his eyes locked on hers, silently seeking permission. Lucy nods eagerly.

 

He chuckles and The zipper begins to move.

 

Her eyes fluttered shut, attuned to the soft rhythm of the zipper’s descent—each tooth releasing with a crisp, metallic snick.

 

Satisfied with his progress, Cooper returns to her lips. They're growing sloppier, impatience seeping into their movements, driven by a shared desire with no clear finish line.

 

He traces a slow finger up the path of her chest, fingers brushing lightly over her collarbone.

 

With his right hand, he gently spreads the opening of her jumpsuit, revealing the hint of her bralette beneath her tank top. His fingers play with the collar, tugging it downward with care, ensuring not to damage her only clothing. Each movement is a thoughtful unveiling of her, inch by inch. As the fabric shifts, his eyes catch sight of a still-healing scar just below the left side of her rib cage.

 

Lucy’s breath catches as he slowly reveals the top of her breast, her nipple breaking free over the edge of her covering. Her toes curl involuntarily, the deliberate pace of his exploration sending waves of agonizing anticipation coursing through her.

 

He marvels at the sight before him—Lucy, panting, her chest rising and falling, a sheen of sweat glistening on her skin. Her eyes are bright, almost feverish, With a tit so fucking perfect.

 

He cups her breast, fingers applying a gentle massage that sends ripples of pleasure through her. Lucy suppresses a moan, her body responding to his touch in a way she’s never experienced before. Where Chet’s touch had always been too rough, too hurried, this is different—sensual and deliberate.

 

Cooper’s thumb glides over her peak, eliciting a needy whimper from her pouty lips.

 

Encouraged by her response, he lightly lifts her breast, his mouth finding her sensitive flesh.

 

Lucy’s eyes widen, her breath hitching as wet heat engulfs the white-hot sting of her hardened nipple. He hums in appreciation, the vibration of his lips sending waves of sensation through her. His tongue laps against her nipple, each flick and suckle drawing out soft, gasping breaths. This, she thinks, struggling to form coherent thoughts amidst the sensation, This is something I’ve never done before.

 

The idea of having her nipples sucked had never crossed her mind as a sexual pleasure. Everything mammary papilla related in her knowledge had been associated with the care of infants, not ecstasy.

 

Another flick of his tongue makes her gasp, her hand flying to the back of Cooper’s head, fingers splaying across his rough scalp. She grabs desperately, her touch both urgent and commanding.

 

Cooper grunts, feeling her nails dig into the sensitive skin of his head. He moans with fervor as her fingers scratch deeply, spurring him on. He eagerly suckles, his movements now dictated by the firm grip she has on him.

 

He pulls away from her with a small, audible pop, leaving her nipple glistening and throbbing from the attention.

 

A pang of regret bubbles up in him as he realizes he can’t graze his nose along her body. There’s only the hollow, a ghostly sensation of loss that sends a sharp ache radiating from between his eyes, like the start of a migraine.

 

I don’t want to think about anything right now. He knows she must not care, but he does.

 

Cooper closes his eyes, seeking to subdue the pain and regain his composure. I need to kiss Lucy,

 

Lucy is at a loss for what she’s experiencing, her thoughts swirling like what she now knows is tumbleweed caught in the wind.

 

The sensation is dizzying, a whirlwind of emotions and desires. 

 

When Cooper pulls away only to crash back into her with a desperate, almost bruising kiss, her world spins out of control. His hand resumes its journey, slowly moving past her breast and down her abdomen. The subtle brush of his fingers across her stomach leaves a trail of fire, igniting her senses as he begins to broach the hidden depths beneath her jumpsuit.

 

His mouth hovers over Lucy’s, their breaths mingling in the electrified space between them. His gaze, though shadowed by the dim light, carries a fierce, almost savage intensity—a storm of fading sadness and deep, primal hunger that words could never capture.

 

The scent of her arousal is suffocating him, a heady mix of sun-kissed skin and the earthy musk of desert sands, momentarily pulling his focus from the persistent ache in his head.

 

Even as his instincts drive him forward, there’s a flicker of restraint, He swallows hard, “May I?”  he asks. A murderous cannibal in the streets, but a gentleman in the sheets.

 

“Yes—” Lucy’s answer comes swiftly, “—yes, please.” Her words breathless with longing. Her hands grip Cooper’s upper arms, fingers digging into the firm muscle beneath his shirt. She nods rapidly, her eyes shining with enthusiasm as she tilts her head up, eagerly meeting his lips.

 

“Please,” she said again. Her voice muffled as she doesn’t break their connection. In this moment, Lucy’s ache for him is palpable, an urgent need that consumes her entirely. She craves him, however she can have him.

 

Cooper’s chuckle ripples warmly into their kiss, his hand navigating beneath the jumpsuit until his fingertips find the telltale line of her underwear.

 

With deliberate care, he applies gentle pressure, skillfully maneuvering over the fabric just above her most sensitive spot. He coaxes a tender rhythm from her hips, his touch both teasing and controlling. A quiet whine escapes her lips as she doesn’t get what she wants.

 

A pressure builds gradually in Lucy’s center, a mounting thrill as she feels his hands inch closer. She instinctively moves her hips upward and forward, a sly maneuver to intercept his touch.

 

Cooper delays his approach to going beneath her underwear, instead running his fingers along the damp fabric’s surface with a playful touch. He traces the outline of her lips, lowering, and delicately pressing through the wet fabric, grazing the surface of the hollow beneath.

 

“Ughh,” Lucy groans, Her fingers curl around the firm muscles of his biceps, seeking support as she teeters on the edge of an unfamiliar precipice.

 

Cooper, ever attentive, swiftly adjusts his stance, steadying her with a grip that is both firm and gentle, ensuring she remains upright and secure.

 

It's such a goddamn turn on how wet she is His amber eyes darkening by the heat of the moment. His body reacts, hardening fully again, as any previous interruptions fade into distant memory, overshadowed by the unwavering focus on the woman before him. His gaze meets hers. “You’re drenched, sweetheart,” he whispers, his voice husky,  If I am to be buried alive again, I’d like to be buried deep inside her- a morbid but honest reflection.

 

Lucy blushes, the warmth spreading across her cheeks like a slow, creeping fire. His voice carries a weight that presses against her skin, sinking into her bones, making her feel simultaneously fragile and fiercely alive.

 

His eyes blaze with an intensity that steals her breath, drawing her into the hidden depths of his soul. But just as she begins to drown in their warmth, a shadow passes through them—It’s there and gone in an instant, before he looks away. 

 

Cooper buries his head against her shoulder, his movements rough and urgent, as if he's trying to disappear into her embrace. The rough texture of the wall digs into her back, but all she can focus on is the overwhelming warmth of him. There's a desperation in the way he presses into her, his hands clutching at her waist. Her arms wrap tightly around his neck, holding him close, the hard edge of her Pip-Boy grazing his head, but he doesn’t pull away. His temperature is feverish, like a wildfire burning beneath his flesh, and she can feel it coursing through every inch of him as he clings to her.

 

It’s overwhelming, the heat and the weight of him pressing her into the unyielding surface, making it hard to tell where she ends and he begins. His Length pulses against her, a visceral reminder of his need, and it sends a shiver down her spine, mingling with the roughness of his embrace and the frantic beat of her heart.

 

That’s when he begins toying with the band of her panties.

 

Their breaths, mingle against each other's skin. He traces his fingers down the soft curls covering her mound, eliciting a small noise from Lucy at the light touch. The intensity of anticipation coils tightly within her, the pressure in her lower abdomen building to a crescendo.

 

Once at the bottom of her slit, Cooper gives a gentle prod, beginning a slow circular motion at the rim of her entrance, his touch mild yet deliberate.

 

She’s going to have to beg me  He thinks as a smile plays at the corner of his lips.

 

As if on cue, “Fudge!” Lucy exclaimed.

 

“Please, Cooper,” she whines, “please, I need—” Her plea cuts off with a gasp as Cooper thrusts his/her/their finger inside her, an easy feat with her eager arousal. “Uhh!” she cries wantonly in his ear. His palm moves to simultaneously apply flat pressure to her clit, the warmth of his hand intensifying the heat radiating from her core, igniting a firestorm of sensation.

 

Cooper watches intently as her mouth falls open, her lips parting in a soft, breathless gasp. Her disheveled hair sticks to her sweaty forehead, framing her face in a wild, almost ethereal way. Her cheeks flush with a deep, rosy hue, a stark contrast to the beads of sweat glistening on her skin.

 

His own expression is a mix of intense focus and dark satisfaction, his brows furrowed as he studies every nuance of her reaction. His pupils dilate with desire as he drinks in the sight of her—her blissful, almost tortured expression fueling his movements. A subtle, almost predatory smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he feels her tighten around his invading finger.

 

He begins to pump in and out with an earnest precision, each thrust deliberate, savoring the wet heat that envelops him. He can feel her muscles clench and release, guiding his rhythm with their desperate, involuntary pulsations. Her face contorts in pure ecstasy, pushing him deeper into the moment, lost in the symphony of her whimpers.

 

He feels the first tight spasms of her contractions, her breath catching in ragged, choked gasps. Each pulse of her body around his fingers sends a fierce jolt of pleasure through him, stoking the fire in his blood. Her breathy, urgent moans only add to his intensity, a raw, unspoken plea that drives him harder, faster, pushing her closer to the brink.

 

Her breath hitches again, held tight in her chest as she teeters on the edge. Not there yet. He growls low in his throat, the sound reverberating through his chest as he feels her body fighting to hold onto the sensation, the tension in her muscles winding tighter with each desperate gasp.

 

Another breath, sucked in with a shudder, held in trembling anticipation. Still not enough.

 

His fingers dig in with renewed force, pushing deeper, curling with deliberate roughness as he forces her closer to the precipice. The air between them is thick with the scent of sweat and arousal, every movement charged with a desperate, almost feral need. The rhythm of her body and the raw, primal sounds she makes fuel his relentless drive, each second bringing her closer to the release she craves, and him closer to the intoxicating satisfaction of pushing her over the edge.

 

Her breathing catches in a ragged groan as her body begins to stiffen, trembling with the effort to stay still against Cooper’s relentless touch. Desperation wells up inside her as she fights against the tide of sensation he’s pulling from her, each stroke pushing her closer to the edge. His finger quirks upward, applying a steady, unyielding pressure that intensifies the sensation, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through her.

 

“C-Cooper!—hhugh—” Lucy gasps, her voice breaking as she tries to speak, the words dissolving into a sharp intake of breath.

 

The final note is struck, and a burst of white-hot heat floods her body, spreading like wildfire. Her muscles lock up, her face flushing as she surrenders completely to the overwhelming wave crashing through her, leaving her breathless and trembling, caught in the throes of pure, unfiltered ecstasy.

 

Cooper can’t resist grinding into her side, the friction sending sparks through his own nerves. The sound of his name on her lips, twisted with pleasure, captivates him, the melodic resonance echoing in his mind as she moves against his hand. He watches her with a fierce, almost possessive intensity. Her sharp inhale, the tightening of her features, the way she holds her breath as the tension builds—each detail burns itself into his memory, fueling the relentless drive within him to push her to the very brink and beyond.

 

Reaching out, his roughened fingers brushing gently across the flushed curve of her cheek, a reassuring gesture that speaks of both comfort and control, guiding her through the tumult with unwavering focus. “ Breathe ,” he commands.

 

Lucy finally exhales the breath she’d been holding, a tidal wave of ecstasy crashing over her as her body convulses with the force of her release. A deep, unrestrained moan escapes her lips, “Ughh… yes…yes…” 

 

Cooper holds steady, letting her take control, His arm tensed to a faint burn spreading from his bicep down to his wrist, to bear the weight of her body riding against his hand with desperate, instinctual need. “Yes, Cooper! Yes… Ugh, please don’t stop,” she pleads, Her movements become more frantic, driven by an insatiable urge to chase every last ripple of pleasure, to stretch out the exquisite torment for as long as possible.

 

I would buy an album of her greatest sounds, he thrust his member into her side. Shuddering, his voice a low, gravelly groan,“Damn, darlin', you’re so fucking perfect. I can’t believe you’re letting someone like me touch you,” The scent of her arousal, mingling with the slick juices now coating his hand, fills the air between them, heady and intoxicating.

 

As Lucy's movements gradually slow, the intensity of her climax giving way to a serene comedown, Cooper instinctively mirrors her pace, easing into a more languid, unhurried rhythm. The urgency between them dissipates, replaced by a shared, blissful contentment that hums in the air. Lucy's eyes flutter open, and she gazes up at Cooper, her expression softened by the afterglow. A sweet, satisfied smile tugs at her lips, Cooper catches her smile and responds with a gentle, affectionate rock into her side.

 

With his left hand, Cooper begins to slide her jumpsuit off her shoulders, the fabric yielding to his touch. He starts with the left, carefully peeling it down, and as the cool air meets her exposed skin, he leans in to press a tender kiss on the newly bared flesh. His lips linger, savoring the taste of her, the smooth texture of her skin beneath his mouth.

 

His movements remain slow, deliberate, as he continues the task, their finger tracing a deliberate path along the fabric, coaxing it further down her body. The tension of moments before has melted away, replaced by a deep, languid intimacy. Lucy, sensing his intent, raises her arms and helps ease the jumpsuit down, letting it slip off her shoulders and fall loosely around her hips, the fabric pooling at her waist.

 

Eager to reciprocate, Lucy reaches for the hem of his shirt and then his belt, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

 

But before she can get further, Cooper’s expression hardens. That’s not happening, His free hand moves, firmly capturing her wrists, guiding them back to her sides.

 

She pouts, a flicker of disappointment crossing her face, but she doesn’t push him further, something he’s immensely grateful for.

 

Lucy’s mind races, trying to decipher his intentions. Is he hiding something? Or does he have plans for her later? She’s uncertain, but her thoughts are quickly interrupted as he slowly withdraws their finger, a sigh escaping her lips as he leans in to kiss her deeply, his lips soft and soothing against hers. The connection lingers for a moment before he pulls away, dropping to his knees in front of her.

 

He lifts her tank top, his lips trailing down her stomach in a series of slow, caresses. The sensation is both thrilling and confusing, and as her jumpsuit slips down her legs, she’s momentarily puzzled by his sudden descent. Then it hits her— oh .

 

A flutter of nerves and an unfamiliar sensation ripple through her as she realizes what he’s about to do.

 

This is uncharted territory for her. The thought of having a penis in her mouth has always made her uneasy, a discomfort she’s never fully confronted. Her mind flashes back to her ‘Sex Education’ book, where it was labeled a ‘50/50 procedure.’ If I don’t take, I don’t have to give, her internal monologue was scrambling for reassurance.

 

"Oh... um, you really don’t have to do that," she stammered,  a sharp contrast to her earlier exuberance. She can feel the tension building between her eyes, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

 

Cooper pauses, He catches a glimpse of something in her expression—a mix of uncertainty and hesitation that he hadn’t seen before.

 

She looks down at him, and a pang strikes her heart. There he is, with the elastic band of her underwear stretched away from her body, held delicately between his teeth. 

 

He releases the band, letting it snap back against her skin with a soft thwack.

 

With a sense of caution, Cooper remains seated on the ground, deciding to seek clarity before making any further moves. "I don’t have to, or you don’t want me to?" he asks softly.

 

“Umm…” Lucy’s eyes drift away, staring into space as her mind races. It’s a bit of both, she realizes, but the thought of admitting she doesn’t want oral weighs heavily on her, the worry of upsetting him looming large. “Both?” she finally murmurs anyway.

 

Okay, Cooper thinks. He won’t push her, especially after just declining her own advances. He stays where he is, reaching for the jumpsuit pooled at her ankles. He pulls it back up her legs, letting it settle just below her waist.

 

Still on his knees, his thumbs tenderly knead the flesh of her hip bones before his hands shift to grasp her waist with a firm, reassuring hold. She instinctively adjusts her stance, supporting his weight as he stands.

 

Once upright, he leans down to capture her lips. She responds eagerly, her hand sliding up to cup the back of his neck while the other presses against his chest.

 

As they part, Lucy zips up her jumpsuit, cinching it securely around her waist, while Cooper adjusts the hemline of her tank top, gently covering the exposed breast. The simple, thoughtful gesture sends a warm rush through her chest.

 

Her gaze lingers on him, a slight tension pulls at the corners of her mouth, and her brows knit together just a fraction, revealing the subtle flicker of guilt that’s beginning to take hold.

 

She swallows,  struggling with the notion that she might have disrupted their intimate moment. Her fingers brush against the fabric of her jumpsuit, grounding herself in the present.

 

 

“I'm sorry,” she blurts out, “It's just I’ve—”

 

 

Cooper shakes his head lightly,  “You don’t need to apologize, darlin’,” his gravelly voice rich and captivating.

 

 

In the dim moonlight filtering through the grimy windows, their faces are close, shadows dancing across their features.

 

 

Her lips curve, She glances down, noticing the still bulge in his pants. “Can I do something for you?” she asks, Her hand hovers, hesitant.

 

 

Cooper follows her gaze, desire flaring within him but his chest tightens with chains. He closes his eyes.

 

---

The lantern’s hypnotic sway acts as a metronome. Cooper's eyes lock onto the movements, a blurry mess swirling across his vision. The rhythmic grind of the Hack-Saw and the creaking protests of the RV forming a discordant symphony around him.

---

 

He knows she's kind—That’s kinda her shtick but he doubts she can hide anything from him with those big open windows on her face, revealing every flicker of emotion. The thought of seeing even a hint of pity in them makes his gut twist.

 

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” he says. Reopening his eyes, he gestures down his body, “Had a great time, regardless of… this.” He gives a smile that's rough around the edges.

 

Lucy purses her lips, a contemplative expression crossing her face. She nods slowly. 

 

Her mind drifts back to the countless hours spent curled up on the couch, poring over the Vault-Tec sex education book, a heavy manual resting in her lap as she read by the soft glow of a small table lamp. 

 

---

Chapter 7: 

What Causes Performance Issues in the Bedroom

• Moral and Ethical Failures: Suggesting that feelings of guilt or shame from not adhering to the vault’s high moral standards can lead to performance issues.
• Handling it: The partner should gently remind them of their shared values and encourage a recommitment to the vault’s moral code, fostering a sense of forgiveness and unity.
• Failure to Uphold Family Values: Underlining the significance of the nuclear family model and the inherent pressure to maintain these foundational ideals.
• Handling it: The partner should reaffirm their commitment to family values and stress the importance of their bond, creating a supportive environment that reinforces these ideals.
• Genetic Inferiority Concerns: Addressing the natural anxiety related to ensuring genetically superior offspring.
• Handling it: The partner should reassure them of their shared genetic potential and the importance of working together to create a strong lineage, alleviating concerns through positive reinforcement.
• Body Image Issues: Emphasizing the need for individuals to maintain their physical appearance to reflect health and vitality, ensuring personal and communal well-being.
• Handling it: The partner should offer sincere compliments and focus on positive aspects of their appearance, helping them feel valued and attractive within the vault’s standards.
• Poor Hygiene Practices: Stressing the patriotic duty of cleanliness and hygiene to maintain health and attractiveness.
• Handling it: The partner should gently encourage better hygiene practices, framing it as a shared activity that enhances their bond and health.
• Overworking and Fatigue: Discussing the impact of excessive work and the necessity of rest, emphasizing balance for the betterment of the vault community.
• Handling it: The partner should suggest rest and relaxation, emphasizing the importance of downtime and recharging for the benefit of both individuals and the vault community.

Lucy curls on the couch, her head propped up by her fist. Her free finger traces under the words as she reads, her lips moving silently, forming each word with careful precision. The manual, filled with instructions and guidelines for obtaining her marriage license, seems endless. She yawns, the room's stillness only punctuated by the occasional rustle of pages turning. The lamp’s light casts a warm halo around her, creating a cozy nook in the otherwise dim room, the scent of old paper mingling with the faint aroma of dust.

---

 

She doesn't think it could be anything vault-related, and she believes she cares more about her hygiene than he does.  That leaves…

 

“Do you have body image issues?” she asks, abruptly yet sincerely.

 

Her brow furrows in concentration, her mind immediately shifting into problem-solving mode, visualizing potential solutions.

 

She doubts Cooper would appreciate empty compliments; they’d likely feel insincere and patronizing to him. Making praise difficult.

 

Her thoughts are abruptly cut short by the tension radiating from Cooper’s frame, enveloping her like a suffocating shroud. A shadow passed over his eyes, and suddenly the old gas station felt oppressive.

 

Cooper's hands rest on either side of her head and he leans in closer. His dark, intense eyes lock onto hers, leaving no room for misinterpretation—this is not a kiss. 

 

“Don’t talk about… what you don’t understand.” His voice was laden with warning.

 

Cooper’s curt tone hits her like a splash of cold water, quenching the warmth she felt moments ago and replacing it with a creeping sense of disappointment. Ah. So I’m right, a wave of vindication surges through her. 

 

Neither willing to yield, the room seems to shrink around them.

 

Lucy’s exhales, resolve re-solidifying,  "Okie-Dokie," her tone was perky and pointed.

 

In one fluid motion, Lucy ducks under his arm, slipping out from the cage of his tense muscles.

 

Cooper clenches his jaw, feeling the sting of her anger as she moves away. 

 

She strides purposefully, her back straight, refusing to grant him the satisfaction of a backward glance. Reaching the dingy couch, she sinks onto its worn cushions, the seat groaning under her weight. 

 

Cooper rolls his eyes.

 

As if sensing their separation, Dogmeat bounds into the room, leaping onto the couch and curling up beside Lucy.

 

Seeing the girl and dog together brings acid to his gut, a tense knotting from his abdomen.

 

Lucy closes her eyes, visibly warming up to the dog's presence.

 

I need some air.  Despite the practically nonexistent roof of the building, the room feels suffocating, and he needs to distance himself from the source of his...conflict, before he says something he might regret. He pushes off the wall with a huff, retrieving his jacket and equipment with jerky, irritated movements. His earlier arousal evaporates, replaced by a simmering resentment.

 

Avoiding Lucy's gaze, Cooper grabs his hat and jams it onto his head with a determined motion. "I’m going out,"

 

Lucy's eyes fly open. He's leaving? Panic seizes her, “Are you coming back?” she asks, her attempt to sound casual.

 

His steps falter, and he closes his eyes. Fuck...

 

With his back to her, he exhales a long sigh.- "Yeah," Just leave her.

 

Lucy feels a surge of urgency to fix what was broken. In the close quarters of the vaults, conflict resolution is a practiced art.

 

"I'm sorry!" she shouts.  Nailed it 

 

Cooper tilts his head towards her but avoids meeting her gaze.

 

Adjusting her approach, Lucy continues, "Well—" she nods to the side "—sort of."

 

Cooper doesn’t look at her, What kind of apology is this?

 

Lucy presses on, "We can't solve the problem if we don't talk about it," she insists,  "But I shouldn't have pressed you. I killed the mood trying to be a problem solver. I’m sorry, just please… Don’t Go," she finishes sadly.

 

Cooper swallows a lump forming in his throat. Don’t go– Please.

 

He slowly turns to fix her with a solemn gaze.

 

Lucy watches his every move as he strides back into the room. Standing before her, he gestures towards Dogmeat. "Move it," he commands-  Dogmeat moves without hesitation, settling down at their feet.

 

Lucy shifts on the couch, sitting cross-legged as Cooper sinks down beside her with a grunt. Her eyes lock onto his face, searching for any hint of his thoughts, though he avoids her gaze.

 

She doesn't want to end the night angry. The knot in her stomach tightens, she really was sorry. She supposed, One sexual encounter didn’t deserve a groundbreaking conversation, but the emotional fallout feels heavier than it should. She wishes she could find the right words.

 

Cooper sighs, his shoulders sagging slightly, and gestures towards the wall. "Why did you stop me from eating you out?" he asks. He wants to get under her skin. “Performance anxiety?” he quips. It's then that he looks at her, observing as Lucy casts her gaze downward, a blush creeping onto her cheeks.

 

She flinches slightly, caught off guard by his tone. “Kinda, yeah,” she admits with a small, laugh, her eyes avoiding his.

 

"Never had your cunt licked?" he asks.

 

Lucy feels her face flush with genuine embarrassment, a lump forming in her throat. “Um…” she begins, his sharp, harsh words yanks her back to their first encounters.  Him standing over her, the brim of his hat casting shadows on his smug face as he mocked her for her dehydrated desperation, or the memory seared through her mind—the gleam in his eyes and the cold metal glinting before he cut off her finger.

 

Caught between maintaining civility and lashing out, she opens her mouth to speak. But Cooper cuts her off.

 

"Oh, I know," he says, as if struck by a sudden revelation. "You were worried about the way you smell ." He lets his voice drop lower, locking his gaze on her.

 

He’s caught her discreetly checking herself these past few days, her anxiety unmistakable. He can smell her, far more acutely than she can imagine. 

 

 Her jaw clenched into a fierce scowl.

 

She breaks eye contact, gaze falling to the floor. This is exactly what he wants, To see me upset.

 

Cooper watches her shoulders slump, and a pang of guilt zips through him. He shifts in his seat, His fingers drum a restless rhythm against his thigh.

 

With a heavy sigh, Cooper pushes himself up from the worn-out couch, the springs groaning in protest.

 

His movements are deliberate, He keeps his gaze averted from Lucy.

 

Nodding subtly, he mutters "I'm going out," his words are clipped "If you leave the building, take the damn dog with you." with a turn on his heel, he strides out of the gas station

 

Lucy chews on her lip, hearing his fading footsteps. Dog meat gives a small wine watching him disappear into the night.  

 

She replays their interactions in her mind, each word, each touch . She allowed herself to be vulnerable, only to be stabbed deeply by a person she trusted. Again.

 

Notes:

I hope you enjoyed, Until next time!

Chapter 8: Net Loss

Summary:

Hello! Sorry for such a weird update schedule. I just started a new job, so nothing is really easy peasy at the moment. Please enjoy!

Dogmeat's plaintive whine pierces the hot, dry air.

 

She gazes up at Cooper with soulful eyes, searching for reassurance after being dismissed by Lucy.

 

Cooper meets Dogmeat's gaze, He clenches his jaw.

 

Ahead, Lucy strides roughly ten feet away, her silhouette a distant figure against the desolate backdrop. 

 

Stupid stubborn girl.

 

Earlier that morning, his patience had snapped. "Either walk beside me or in front of me!" he yelled. He was tired of constantly glancing over his shoulder, making sure she was still there.

 

Lucy didn't respond right away. She wore a blank expression until giving the slightest clench of her jaw "Okie-Dokie," She said with a quickening of her pace. Widening the gap between them.

 

"OkiE-dOkIe," he had mouthed; In an exaggerated performance.

 

He knows he should just apologize. His insides churns as he fights the urge to say something. Anything.

 

Just don’t do it again, he tells himself, the whispered mantra echoing in the recesses of his mind. It’s not exactly an admission of guilt, more a promise to himself to avoid unnecessary conflict in the future.

 

The memory of last night lingers in Cooper's mind like a wisp of smoke, teasingly close yet just out of reach. He furrows his brow, trying to sift through the haze, separating the good moments from the regrettable actions that followed.

 

I'm not exactly sure what I was hoping for, a bitter acknowledgment of his own behavior.

 

His fingers twitch with the urge to rip off the metaphorical band-aid, The sooner she leaves, the better.

 

His footsteps echo hollowly in the oppressive silence. Each moment spent with her feels like prolonging the inevitable. He sighs.

 

He knows he needs to find a way to apologize, to break the cycle of stubborn silence and pride. But for now, he continues to walk.

 

Lucy strides forward, her steps purposeful yet weighted with the burden of her thoughts. She listens for the shuffling feet of her companion and the occasional sound from Dogmeat.

 

She keeps her head down, eyes fixed on her worn shoes scuffing the dusty ground. She bites her lip.

 

The memory of his outburst is still fresh. His reaction was predictable, but - An occasional orgasm just isn't worth the occasional tantrum.

 

Sour smile tugs at her lips.

 

Her thoughts drift to their tempartnership and her  begin to slow.

 

Perhaps they can continue as before, maintaining their alliance for the sake of their shared goals. It seems the logical choice for the long term, especially in their quest to find her father. She kicks at a small pebble, watching it skitter away.

 

Her father.

 

Her mind wanders to the men in her life—her father, Norm, Maximus, Cooper—all of whom seem to orbit around her, pulling at her sense of duty. 

 

Lucy's steps falter, the ground seeming to tilt beneath her, as a faint dizziness crept in.

 

A sharp sting flares across her abdomen, the fabric of her jumpsuit grazing against irritated skin. She winces, placing a hand on her stomach as bile rises in her throat. The bitter taste filling her mouth, like the acrid tang of metal and burnt ozone. She swallows it.

 

 She's been absently scratching the skin of her wrist. It was red and irritated with forming angry bumps. Her fingers coudn't help but trace the inflamed area. The itchiness continuously spreading like a creeping vine.

 

 

The desert heat shimmers around her, as her vision starts to blur.

 

The edges of reality softening and merging with the past. She blinks, trying to clear her sight, but the oppressive heat plays tricks on her mind.

 

---

 

Christmas had arrived in Vault 33, a faint buzz of excitement humming through the air like the distant jingle of bells on a sleigh.

The metallic corridors were festooned with handmade garlands and twinkling light. The sound of cheerful chatter mingled with the strains of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” from the vault radio, continuously playing through the halls. 

 

The aroma of roasting meat and savory herbs wafted from the kitchen, mingling with the tantalizing scent of freshly baked bread and sweet desserts. Lucy's mouth watered as she bustled about in the kitchen, diligently preparing.

 

The warmth from the oven radiated throughout the small space, a stark contrast to the cool, sterile feel of the vault's metal floors. Her younger brother, Norm, set the dining table with care, arranging the plates and cutlery with the precision of a seasoned soldier. Their father, Hank, sat in the living area, his brow furrowed in concentration as he oversaw the allocation of vault resources for the festive season.

 

As Lucy readied for dinner, a knot of worry twisting like a garland around her insides. Tension had been mounting between Norm and their father, exacerbated by the annual "Nice List" competition. In Vault 33, residents submitted acts of kindness or selfishness, with rewards ranging from lavish Santa gifts for the top of the list to coal for the rest.

 

 Norm was at the very bottom this year, much to their father's embarrassment and despite Lucy's efforts. 

Her submitted acts of kindness were voided when nobody else had written in. Then to top it off, Norm had failed to submit any himself, disregarding the holiday tradition entirely.

Tonight, after dinner, when the vault inhabitants gather in the cornfield, around their 12-foot tree; The overseer's son would receive coal.

 

 Norm was now 11 years old, and in his first year as a participant on Santa's Nice List. Typically, newcomers went all out, striving to secure the best gifts right from the start. 

It was tradition in Vault 33 that every newbie received some sort of reward, just for participating alone.

Lucy had excelled in all three years she'd been on the list, consistently ranking in the top 30—a remarkable achievement for someone her age.

 

Her brows furrowed as she meticulously divided the portions of the Christmas meal, dissatisfaction evident in the crease of her brow. She leaned in, inhaling the buttery scent wafting from her three slices of garlic bread, a rare treat in the vault's rationed menu. Mmm. If ever permitted, she could eat nothing but garlic bread. 

 

 Lucy carefully balanced the plates of food as she approached the dining table.

 

Meanwhile, Norm stepped back from his task of arranging the Christmas-themed centerpiece, his efforts visibly paying off.

 

 “That looks great, Norm!” Lucy praised him, setting down the dishes with a clank. Norm glanced at the plates and smoothly took one from Lucy, easing her burden.

 

“This food looks great, Lucy!” he echoed, meant for her ears alone. Lucy offered him a grateful smile before turning her attention to her father, who remained immersed in his paperwork across the room.

 

 “Dinner’s ready, Daddy!” Lucy called out, her voice echoing in the dimly lit kitchen. 

 

Hank seemed oblivious to Lucy's call, his attention consumed by the tasks at hand.

 

 Norm glanced at Lucy, his brow furrowed in concern. “Do you think he’s still mad?” he whispered, barely audible over the rustle of papers.

 

 Lucy hesitated for a moment, her gaze fixed on her father's back. “Umm, I think he’s just disappointed,” she replied softly.

 

 Norm let out a frustrated sigh, his shoulders slumping as he pulled out his chair and took a seat at the table. “Like ‘that’s’ so much better,” he muttered under his breath.

 

As Lucy followed suit and sat down, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. Despite her attempts to reassure her brother, the conflict between them and their father hung thickly in the room, casting a shadow over the holiday meal.

 

  "I’ll be there in just a moment, sweetie,” Hank finally responded, his voice carrying across the room.

 

 With a final flourish, Hank set aside his paperwork and pushed himself away from the desk. He straightened his shoulders, as if shaking off the weight of his responsibilities, before making his way over to the table.

 

 Lucy watched him approach, her heart sinking with each step he took. She had hoped for a more jovial response from her father, but the unease in his demeanor was palpable.

 

 Norm glanced up as Hank took his seat, his expression guarded. The air around the table seemed to thicken, the unspoken discord hanging heavy in the room as they prepared to share their family meal.

 

 “So, Norm,” Hank began as he settled behind the table, placing his napkin on his lap. His attention shifted from his tasks to his son,  “Did you get any submissions before the deadline today?” 

 

 Lucy remained silent, her gaze fixed on her plate as she picked up her knife and fork, holding them in either hand. A silent retreat into the familiar rhythm of mealtime etiquette.

 

Norm slouched in his chair, his gaze a mirror of his father's stern expression. With a tilt of his head, he motioned towards the pile of paperwork on the coffee table. “Wouldn't you know before me?” he said.

 

Hank held his son's gaze, his jaw subtly twitching. With a shift in demeanor, he softened his expression into a biting smile “I want to hear from you ; If you did anything today, to serve our community, ” he leaned forward, elbows resting on the table and his chin was cradled in his entwined fingers. 

 

Norm's lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowing.

 

Lucy intervened, her voice bright and cheery. “Let's eat, you guys! I want us all fully digested before the tree lighting tonight!” With a subtle clink of her knife and fork against the table.

 

Hank's focus shifted from Norm to Lucy at the sound of her enthusiastic plea. He offered a nod in response, a gentle smile playing on his lips, oblivious to the turmoil brewing within his son.

 

With her father's tacit approval, Lucy's grin widened as she eagerly delved into her meal, her movements animated and purposeful.

 

Norm's jaw clicked as he observed his father's adoring gaze fixated on Lucy. "If nobody records me doing something for the community, does that mean I never serve the community?" he challenged.

Hank's attention finally returned to him.

 

Lucy hastily swallowed a bite of food, her timing off-kilter. She struggled to interject, her voice strained as she managed to choke out, "Norm..." Her attempt to halt him from delving further down this confrontational path was evident, but her words were drowned out by a fit of coughing. She brought the back of her non pip-boy wrist to her mouth, muffling the sound as she tried to regain her composure and conceal her Redding face.

 

Hank didn't falter at his daughter's choking. Instead, he smiled lovingly at his son. "Of course not, Norm, this is just a silly holiday game," he remarked.

 

“Holiday I-Spy?” Norm asked, watching his father's face intently.

 

Lucy, her coughing slowly subsiding, sat quietly, her eyes darting between her father and brother.

 

Hank's jaw twitched as he fought to maintain his composure. “We've been over this, Norm," his voice carrying a sense of finality. “It's not spying—”

 

 Norm's frustration reached its boiling point, propelling him forward. "Lucy had 264 entries last year," he declared, "That's 264 cases of people watching her, and that's just the written down ones!" 

 

 “Your sister consented to being watched for the duration of the games. Right Lucy?” Hank's gaze shifted to Lucy, expecting her confirmation.

 

Her fathers sudden inquiry jolted Lucy from a trance-like state she hadn't realized she'd fallen into.

With furrowed brows, she glanced up at her father.

She's messing up.

 

She was hesitating.

 

Too unsure of how to respond.

 

"Um, I mean, I signed up for the game?" she offered tentatively, her words trailing off as she searched for clarification. 

 

 Norm's voice rose again,  "I never agreed to that!  I don't want people watching everything I do, especially when plenty of people deserve gifts, but never get them!"

 

 Hank's hand crashed down on the table with a resounding thud, "That's enough, Norman!" he exclaimed, "You're young. You're rebelling, trying to find a fault in everything your old man does. I'm sorry you're so unhappy, but have you ever considered that maybe you're the one making yourself that way?" 

 

 “Daddy.” Lucy cut in low.

Hank held his hand up to her face, never breaking his glare on norms now tight red face. 

“What will people think when I hand my son coal, And everyone, everyone … knows, it's because you haven't done anything for anyone.”  Hank asked tightly. “Huh?” he egged on, waiting to see if Norm had an answer. 

 

 Norm looked down. His face heating up at the idea. He may not have thought that part through.

 

Not wanting to be watched vs. being humiliated on stage with his dad. He blinked the thought away, before setting disinterested eyes on his father. 

“You could just lie. I think you may be good at that.” 

 

 The statement hung heavily in the air, casting a palpable hostility over the room. Lucy's heart pounded with anticipation as she glanced at her father. Dad's integrity is his cornerstone, a trait she deeply admired.

The mere suggestion that he could bend the truth must have stung him to the core. Perhaps, she hoped fervently, this will help him see that Norm was simply confused and in need of gentle guidance, rather than stern reprimand.

 

 Hank's breath deepened audibly through his nose, "Norman. Go to your room." 

 

 Norm, With a grimace, shoved himself away from the table, causing his plate and utensils to clatter loudly, he retreated to his bedroom, the automatic door closing behind him with a swift, final sound.

 

 Lucy's brows furrowed, Without a second thought, she moved to follow him, However, her father's soft voice halted her in her tracks.

 

 "Lucy, stop,"

 

She paused, standing over her father.

 

 Hank smiled at her reassuringly before gesturing towards the dining table. "Pack away all our leftovers. We'll finish later," he instructed. "I'm going to get to the tree lighting early to handle some last-minute paperwork. I want both of you cleaned up and presentable. And I want 'both' of you there with a smile," he emphasized, his tone indicating that Norm needed to adjust his attitude within the next hour and a half.

 

 He stood up from the table, gently pushing himself away as he addressed Lucy. She responded with a tight-lipped smile and a soft affirmation. "Yes, Daddy," she murmured. 

 

 Hank smiled genuinely at his daughter's response. "Thank you, sugar plum," he said affectionately, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "For always doing what's right." He wrapped her in a hug, and Lucy blinked rapidly against his chest, his words sinking in. For doing what's right, the compliment both warmed and troubled her.

 

 With a fond smile, he pulled away from her and nodded. “Okay, sweetie. I’ll see you both at the ceremony.” Turning towards the vault apartment door, he clicked the open switch and stepped through. As the door slid shut behind him, he waved back at Lucy. “I love you, both,” his words echoed softly through the closing door, leaving Lucy alone in the common area of the apartment.

 

She hurried to Norm's door, sliding it open to reveal his small bedroom. Norm was sitting cross-legged on his bed, engrossed in playing with his pip-boy. Lucy smiled at the sight of him, relieved to see that he was entertaining himself. 

 

Norm didn't look up at her, but he did speak. “You don't think it's weird he pretends it's not spying?” 

 

 Sitting down on the foot of Norm's bed, Lucy huffed softly. “I think you want him to acknowledge that it is similar to spying, and he wants you to understand that it's just a fun activity,” she replied, her tone measured and calm. 

 

"It doesn't really feel like fun," he admitted, His attention had shifted from his pip-boy to the conversation at hand.

 

 Lucy's eyes rolled skyward “Helping people IS fun, Norm,”  She grinned and reached out a hand to clasp his forearm; giving him a gentle shake. 

 

Norm's expression twisted into a pout, eliciting a chuckle from Lucy.

With a sigh, he spoke, “Dad never listens to my suggestions,” Norm often noticed flaws in the vault system and tried to bring them to his father's attention, only to be met with dismissal every time.

 

 “Dad knows one day you’ll be smarter than him," Lucy said with a hint of mischief "so he's flexing his authority now.” She chuckled softly, before a flicker of concern crossed her expression. A silent acknowledgment of what she just said.

 

 Norm's scoff echoed through the room, “I’m definitely smarter than him now,” he declared.

 

 Lucy couldn't help but laugh. “Yeah, probably,” she conceded. “But he is older and wiser. You have to trust that he has the best interests of the vault at heart. What would it serve him to run the vault further into the ground?” She posed the question gently, hoping to convey that their father's decisions might not always be clear, but they were made with the welfare of the vault in mind.

 

 Norm absorbed Lucy's words, a sense of resignation settling over him. “So I should just keep my ideas to myself?” he asked, The weight of loneliness settled upon him, a familiar ache in his heart as he contemplated the possibility of navigating his world alone. He lowered his gaze, unable to meet Lucy's eyes.

 

 Lucy's heart ached as she saw the pain reflected in her little brother's face.  “You can always tell me what's going on in that giant brain of yours,” she said earnestly, leaning in closer to meet his gaze. “I want to know, if you ‘think’ they're poisoning the water.” She said softly, encouraging him to share his theories, no matter how implausible they might seem. 

 

 Norm's smile widened into a hopeful grin as he leaned in to wrap his arm around Lucy's shoulders.

Lucy responded eagerly, her arms encircling him in a tight hug.

 

As they reluctantly pulled apart, the weight of Norm's worry settled upon him like a heavy cloak. "What am I going to do when Dad hands me coal?" he fretted, a reflection of the uncertainty swirling in his mind since their dinner conversation.

 

 In contrast, Lucy remained composed, With a casual shrug, she offered a simple solution, "Just say 'Thank you' and walk off stage.”

 

 Norm lit up with newfound hope  “You’re definitely smarter than me,” he complimented, a genuine appreciation shining in his eyes.

Lucy's face lit up with a radiant smile at his words. “And don’t you forget it,” she replied.

 

 Lucy heard her name called. 

 

---

 

"Lucy!"

 

She blinked, disoriented, trying to focus on Cooper's close face.

 

"Sit down," he commanded. Guiding her to a nearby rock, its surface warmed by the sun's relentless rays. Lucy sank onto it, her limbs trembling with fatigue. She closed her eyes, feeling the world spin around her in a disorienting blur.

 

Her mouth felt like sandpaper, her throat raw and parched. With a shaky hand, she waved off Cooper's concern. "Just... need to rest," she managed.

 

Cooper didn't hesitate, his movements purposeful as he retrieved his water canteen. "Here," he said, offering it to her. "You need to drink."

 

Lucy nodded weakly, her gratitude mingling with a sense of relief. She accepted the canteen, the cool metal soothing against her trembling fingers. As she brought it to her lips, the water flowed down her throat like a lifeline, easing the burning ache of dehydration.

 

Cooper observed her carefully, he saw the ashen hue of her complexion and the unsteady movements of her hands. She was showing signs of radiation sickness far earlier than he had expected.

 

After a few more swigs from the canteen, He wordlessly retrieved the water, screwing the lid back on before securing it in his holster.

 

"Thank you," Lucy said evenly.

 

"Don't mention it." he said, lowering himself to the ground. Legs out and bent in front of him.

 

From Lucy's elevated vantage point, he appeared smaller, more vulnerable than usual. She watched as he reached for his inhaler and taking a dose with practiced ease.

The familiar sound of the inhaler punctuating the tense silence between them.

 

Cooper observed her closely. She looks terrible.

"What's got you so lost in thought?" he asked. Glancing up at her.

 

He hoped to bridge the gap between them and engage in a normal conversation, if only for a moment.

 

Lucy looked as if she was looking through him.  Her thoughts swirled with the weight of memories. "I was thinking about my brother," she confided. "I miss him," she whispered.

 

Cooper nodded hesitantly.  He reached out to pat Dogmeat, who had nestled beside him. "What's your brother's name?" he asked, his rough drawl softened by a rare note of curiosity.

 

Lucy’s lips curved into a soft, bittersweet smile. "Norman," she said, Her gaze dropped to the ground, eyes tracing the cracks in the dusty earth, A shadow of shame crossed her features. "I... I was thinking about how Norm tried to tell me something was off about our dad" she began, "I was... I was just so sure that he would never lie to me." 

 

Her big eyes, began to burn with salty unshed tears. Then, her throat tightened. She was just too dehydrated to properly cry. —How many times had Norm pointed out things wrong in the vault, only for her to dismiss them?

 

Cooper leaned forward, his gloved hands gently resting on Lucy's knees. "There's nothing wrong with believing in your Daddy," he said in a hushed tone. "Dads are supposed to be their kids' heroes."  His gaze drifted off, hardening as if wrestling with a distant memory. He hoped Barb never tainted Janey’s perception of him.

 

 Lucy clenched her fists, frantically shaking her head, "But mine really wasn't a hero," she said, her voice heavy with bitterness that seeped into her words like a poison. 

 

 "And that was somehow something little Lucy was expected to figure out?" he asked, "So your daddy lied about where he was from—"

 

 "And he bombed Shady Sands and he killed my mother." She said cutting him off. 

 

Shock ripples across Cooper's features. "What?" he gasped, a small,  laugh escaping his lips.  Didn’t know young Henry had that in him- He quickly shook his head,  “Regardless—”

 

His words are cut off abruptly by Lucy's pained yelp, and her tumbling off her rock.

Cooper stumbles backward, clumsily catching her as she falls. His eyes wideing, as he sees a large dart protruding from her right shoulder.

 

"Hold on" He grasps the dart and yanks it out of her back, the needle slick with a faint sheen of blood. He brings the needle to his mouth and gives it an inquisitive lick. A sedative.

 

Caught between scanning the area for threats and checking on Lucy, Cooper moves her gently to get a better look at her face. Her body grows heavier in his arms, her eyes fluttering shut. "Sweetheart," he calls urgently, shaking her, but she continues to slip into unconsciousness. 

 

Dogmeat, sensing the danger, whines and darts off into the distance, her low growls echoing through the tense air.

 

Cooper quickly lays Lucy on the ground and reaches for his gun. His eyes scan the direction the dart came from. He's loading his gun when a sharp pain strikes his chest.

 

He glances down at where the dart was embedded and quickly plucks it out. Letting it fall to the ground.

 

In a calculated display of bravado, he raises his weapon. The squeezes of the trigger, sends a warning shot ringing out into the air. The bullet whizzes past a nearby building. It’s a bold declaration, a challenge to whoever lurks in the shadows, daring them to reveal themselves.

 

A deafening explosion reverberates through the air. A distinct hiss and a sharp click echo through the air, the telltale sound of a device springing to life. Cooper’s eyes catch the shadow of something flying through the sky and turns to face it.

There's a metallic net arcing toward him, its edges glinting menacingly in the harsh light.

 

"FUCK!" He throws himself to the side, a desperate attempt to evade the oncoming trap.

 

But it's too late. The metallic net descended upon him. Wrapping around him. Its weight slammed him to the ground, the cold metal squeezing the air from his lungs.

 

There's a moment of peace before electricity crackles through Cooper's body.

 

He grits his teeth, every fiber of his being straining to fight the electric torment coursing through him. His vision blurs, the edges darkening, He tries to move, his body jerking violently against the unyielding net.

 

He sees a glimpse of A dark silhouette drawing nearer to Lucy's motionless form. No his mind demands.  Grime and blood fills his mouth as Darkness begins to creep into the edges of his vision, threatening to pull him under.

 

The overwhelming sensation finally takes its toll. His body goes limp, and the last thing he sees is hands gripping and lifting an unconscious Lucy off the ground.

Chapter 9: Who's there?

Notes:

Trigger warning for dubious consent
Trigger warning for minor self harm.

(mi·nor 1. lesser in importance, seriousness, or significance.)

 

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Cooper's hand hovers over the radio before he switches it off, plunging the car into silence. He releases a heavy sigh, gripping the wheel tightly.

 

Battaling the feeling of inadequacy, he bows his head, forehead meeting cool surface.

 

Today marks their first wedding anniversary, a day meant for joy and celebration. Yet here he is, empty-handed. Money troubles have left him unable to afford a gift for his wife. Though she graciously understands their financial constraints, the absence of a tangible token gnaws at him.

 

He lifts his gaze to a small, weathered photo nestled in the corner of the dashboard. In it, they beam with hope and love on their wedding day. The image whispers of their shared journey, its highs and lows etched into their intertwined smiles.

 

His eyes shift to his reflection in the rearview mirror. Panic surges in his chest, creeping through his veins. His eyes widen-

 

"Something's different," he whispers.

 

Knock-knock—

 

“SHIT!”

 

Cooper snaps out of his trance, his senses jolting back to the present moment. Slamming his palm against his chest, he sought reassurance in the steady rhythm of his breath.

I can breathe. A relief washes over him like a tide, stirring a long-forgotten memory from its deep slumber.

 

"Uh. Sorry?" comes a muffled voice through the window.

 

Cooper huffs, anger finding its way to the surface. He reaches for the car door.

 

Hinges groan, catching the man off guard. "Oh!" he exclaims, jumping back. 

 

Cooper exits the car, slamming the door shut behind him with a resounding thud. His gaze fixes firmly ahead, meeting the man's uncertain stare head-on.

 

He reaches into his pocket, fingers deftly extracting a pack of cigarettes. He pulls one, bringing it to his lips, flickin’ the lighter with a casual click of his thumb.

 

The flame sparks to life, casting dancing shadows on his face, He inhales deeply, the sensation of smoke filling his lungs bringing a fleeting hum of satisfation.

 

He gestures for the man to speak, his hand cutting through the air in a silent command.

 

The man finally speaks up,  "Sorry again, didn't mean to scare ya," he mutters.

 

The man nervously rubs the back of his neck, "I wanted to introduce myself and welcome you to the neighborhood," he continues, his tone softening slightly. "I'm Mitch Raves," he adds, extending his hand to Cooper.

 

Cooper blows out a thick stretch of smoke, the wisps dissipating into the air like a heavy sigh.

 

He eyes the man up and down, suppressing an internal groan. Oughta be polite

 

"I'm Cooper Howard an—" His jaw clicks shut from Mitches interruption. "I seen you, got a wife?" he blurted, his eyes darting nervously between Cooper's face and Coopers house.

 

"Y-Yeahhh," Cooper replies, "Who… I'm eager to get home to," he finishes, gesturing toward his house with a subtle nod.

 

With a small wave goodbye, Cooper murmurs, "Nice meetin’ you, Mitch."

 

He walks past the odd man, placing the cigarette back between the corner of his lips. His eyebrows dance in confusion as he mutters, "What the fuck."

 

Mitch moves forward.

 

Alarm bells go off. Cooper spins around and pushes against Mitch's chest with controlled force, creating a noticeable gap between them. His arm holds rigid, pointing a warning finger.

 

 "Hey, nah. Don't be takin' another step toward my door," he growled, his southern drawl sharpening with the cigarette bobbing from the corner of his lips.

 

Mitch throws up his hands in surrender, but his gap-toothed smile stretches a little too wide "Say no more! If I had a wife, I'd want to spend 'ALL' my time with her too," he says, chuckling with a wink.

 

"Go," Cooper commands, his voice sharp and authoritative as he points away from his home. Fed fucking’up with the man.

 

Mitch retraces his steps in reverse, his gaze locked onto Cooper with a predatory smile. 

 

Once Mitch vanishes from view, Cooper hurries to his door, Fucking creep- He fumbles for his keys, the cold metal biting into his palm as he retrieves them from his pocket.

 

With a swift motion, Cooper slides the key into the lock, turning it with a soft click.

 

Before entering, he takes one last hurried drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing brightly in the dim light of the porch. With practiced precision, he stubs it out in the ashtray, the acrid smell mingling with the crisp evening air.

 

Stepping over the threshold, he's greeted by the familiar creak of the door as it shuts out the rest of the world. Engaging the deadbolt and chain, each metallic clink echoes in the stillness of the room. Finally.

 

Leaning his weight against the solid wood, he feels like he can fianlly realse a long awaited sigh.

 

"Cooper?" A melodious voice floats in from the kitchen, soft. It dances through the air, weaving around the familiar clinks of utensils and the gentle hum of appliances.

 

"Yeah, Sweetheart, it's me," Cooper calls back, warmth threading through his tone. He bends down to remove his shoes, reminded of her preference for a clean house. His movements become deliberate as he unties each lace with practiced ease. "I gotta tell ya something," he bites his bottom lip in concentration. With a careful twist, he places them neatly by the door, the soles resting against the hardwood floor with a faint thud.

 

As he stands up, gentle hands caress his sides, their touch like a feather's soft stroke through his shirt. They trail down to his stomach, Hello. A body presses against his back, fitting perfectly into the curve of his spine. Leaning into the embrace, her presence wraps around him like a comforting cloak.

 

She rises onto her tiptoes, a delicate movement as she reaches up to press a kiss on his cheek from behind.

 

Closing his eyes, Cooper's chest swells, surrounded by the scent of her perfume and the soft rustle of her clothing.

 

"Welcome home," Lucy whispers huskily into his ear.

‘Lucy?’

 

 Cooper turns to face his wife, quikly leaning down, their lips colliding in an eager, firm kiss. As they part, he fixes his serious gaze on her.

 

"I have to tell you about the neighbor," he says, nodding toward the door. Lucy follows his gesture, eyes darting to the blinds, a furrow forms as she tries to catch a glimpse of the elusive figure next door.

 

"I don't see anyone," she says, with a squint.

 

"And you better not!" Cooper barked through a laugh. "But if you do... steer clear of him," he says, worry flickering across his face. "His name is Mitch. Let me know if he tries to talk to you." His jaw tightens, lines deepening as he delivers the warning.

 

Lucy offers an easy smile. "Okie-dokie. If you say so," she replies with easygoing assurance.

 

"I mean it," he says, a playful smile adorning his face. "He gave the impression he'd like to have you," he continues, pulling her close, arms wrapping around her with a gentle strength. "And you know, I don't like to share," he added deeply, hovering his lips tantalizingly close to her own.

 

Lucy beams, her lips seeking his in a soft caress.

 

"Happy Anniversary, Baby," Cooper mumbles against her, their breath mingling in the quiet. Lucy responds, wrapping her arms around Cooper's neck, pulling him closer.

 

"Happy Anniversary," she whispers back.

 

Knock-knock-knock.

 

Lucy feels Cooper stiffen, The warmth of their embrace fading, replaced by a sense of unease and anoyance.

 

He gently peels her off, as he turns toward the door. "Stay behind me," he instructs without a glance.

 

Lucy watches as he cautiously cracks the door, his body braced against it- A scoff escapes him, before he abruptly slams the door.

 

He faces her leaning against the door, annoyance clear across his face.

 

"Was it him?" she asks.

 

“Worse,” he says, He looks her dead in the eyes “It's your dad,” 

 

Lucy's shoulders sag. "Ugh, move," she grumbles, lunging forward to bat Cooper away from the door.

 

With a dramatic sigh, he steps aside, relinquishing his position at the door.

 

Lucy takes a deep breath beore throwig him a stern look. She opens the door revealing Hank MacLean. "Daddy!" She greets him warmly.

 

“Sugar plum!” Hank's greeting fills the room as he moves to embrace his daughter. 

 

As they break away, Lucy closes the door, pulling Hank into their cozy home. It exudes an aura of mid-century charm, with its walls adorned in a warm shade of pastel yellow that seems to glow under the soft, ambient lighting.

 

Hank steps farther into the space, his vision scanning the familiar surroundings.

 

In the center of the room stands a modest yet comfortable couch upholstered in a pattern of geometric shapes, its cushions invitingly plump and adorned with a few throw pillows featuring retro designs. A coffee table sits before it, its surface gleaming under the soft glow of a nearby table lamp. On the table rests a scattering of magazines and a small vase of freshly cut flowers, their vibrant colors adding a touch of life to the room.

 

To the right of the entrance, Cooper leans casually against the wall,  Arms crossed over his chest, he appears engrossed in the task of inspecting his cuticles, one hand raised to his face as he meticulously examines each nail. His expression remains unreadable as he ignores Hank's presence.

 

Hank turns his attention to him. "Coop," he says,  accompanied by a curt snap of his head in his son-in-law's direction.

 

"Young Henry," Cooper replied smoothly.

 

Hank makes a tsk noise. "You must not have recognized me since I've grown a beard."

 

"No, I knew it was you," Cooper replies, looking up with a toothy smirk. "That's why I closed the door."

 

Hank's face tightens  as he fires back, “How’s Barb? Spoke to her lately?”

 

Cooper’s smirk falters, his jaw tightening at the mention of her name. Lucy, standing nearby, catches the subtle change in Cooper’s posture, her brow furrows. The name ringing a faint bell. “The devil?” Lucy pipes up, her voice confused.

 

Both men glance at her, momentarily thrown off by her interjection. Cooper doesn’t respond, but Hank seizes the moment, turning his attention back with a mocking smirk. “Oh, how cliché," Hank sneers. "Speaking ill of the ex-wife to the new, younger wife.”

 

Lucy’s eyes widen, the pieces falling into place. Barb. The name clicks in her mind—Cooper’s ex-wife of course. She glances between the two men, feeling the weight of the situation shift as her confusion clears. Her lips part as she finds her voice.

 

“Dad,” Lucy begins, more formal. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

 

Hank shifts his attention to his daughter. "I saw the car in the driveway and thought I’d pop over to say happy anniversary," he says, "And I was excited to see what gift my—" He gives Cooper a quick once-over.

 

Cooper shoots him a dirty look. Lucy rolls her eyes.

 

"—son-in-law bestowed upon my Angel," Hank finishes, smiling lovingly at his daughter.

 

“The gift was the house, Daddy. You knew that already,” Lucy says, crossing her arms, not in the mood for a squabble her dad is baiting Cooper with.

 

Hank nods briskly in agreement. “A house is essential for everyone, but I get your point. Still… I thought there might be a bouquet of flowers or…” He scans the room theatrically with a wave, “Something,” he concludes, feigning a pained expression.

 

Cooper interjects, "The 'gift' is moving in two doors down from her overbearing father."

 

"Remind me... How many doors down does your daughter live?" Hank snaps.

 

Cooper steps away from the wall toward Hank, his movements deliberate to close the distance between them quickly.

Janey

 

Hank squares himself in a bracing stance, turning his nose up at the approaching man. Lucy swiftly positioned herself between them with a brisk step. "Enough," she says sternly, directing a firm gaze at her father.

 

“You came here, Dad,” she says without an ounce of empathy “Now I realize, it was just to poke at my marriage.”

 

Hank goes slack-jawed in response. Lucy places her hand up to keep him from responding. “It was nice to see you, but I want to continue the evening with my husband.” She tilts her head up with a satisfied pose.

 

Hank, taken aback, glances at Cooper, who watches Lucy with a sort of smug amusement.

 

"Well," Hank begins, "I'm sorry to have been a burden. An-"

 

"Oh, that's okay. We know you can't help it." Cooper said.

 

"Honey," Lucy says with a dramatic roll of her eyes.

 

"Darlin'," Cooper mimics her, making Lucy giggle.

 

"CHILDREN," Hank interjects abruptly, feeling a churn in his stomach. "Please, let me leave before I have to endure any more of this sickening display," he give a pleading  gesture and a look of disgust.

 

Lucy huffs a laugh. "I love you, Daddy. I'll see you tomorrow for brunch."

 

Hank pauses his dramatic protests, composing himself to address his daughter earnestly. "I love you too, Sweetums. See you at brunch."

 

With a warm embrace, the father and daughter share a tender moment before Hank exits, barely sparing Cooper a second glance.

 

Lucy firmly closes the door before clapping her hands together. She turns to her husband with an excited grin. "I'm actually glad he came over!" she exclaims eagerly.

 

Cooper takes Lucy's wrists, guiding her further into the living room to the small loveseat. "Oh, absolutely!" he replies "I'd much rather get annoyed than spend time making out with my wife," he says, feigning sincerity with the flash of a goofy smile.

 

Lucy laughs and settles herself comfortably, kicking off her heels and tucking her legs underneath herself to face her husband. "I'm happy he came over… because it gives me the perfect segue to give you this!"

 

Lucy reaches into the pocket of her dress and pulls out a card, handing it gently to Cooper.

 

Cooper's smile fades "Lucy," he says in a pained tone. They had agreed not to exchange gifts.

 

Sensing his discomfort, Lucy quickly intervenes. "It's homemade, it cost me nothing to make," she says, hoping to ease his reluctance.

 

Cooper weighs the idea of a homemade gift versus no gift at all.

 

"Just take a look at it," Lucy urges, her gaze searching his.

 

His gaze shifts downward as he studies the folded paper. There is nothing on the outside to indicate what lies within.

 

Carefully unfolding it, he discovers a paper cut to wallet size. The card read:

 

“Coupon to Punch ‘Hank Maclean’ in the face. No expiration date, One-time use only.”

 

Cooper looks up at Lucy, his brown eyes sparkling with amusement,  “Really?” he grinned manically.

 

Lucy nods enthusiastically, her expression alight “Yes!...I really do appreciate how you don’t beat up my dad, every time you see him,” she said. 

 

“Oh, you noticed that, did ya?” Cooper’s voice dances between them. His grin widens as he eases Lucy back, his hands sure as they adjust her beneath him. His hips settle naturally between her parted thighs, the fabric of her dress bunching like a secret between them.

 

“Mmhmm,” she hums, the sound a soft melody as she wraps her arms around his neck, welcoming the weight of him against her.

 

His scent, a mix of citrus and lingering smoke, curls into her senses, intoxicating and familiar. When his lips meet hers, the world outside dissolves, leaving only the heat between them.

Lucy?

 

She sighs into his mouth, the sensation of his tongue teasing hers drawing out a deeper breath.

 

Cooper’s breath catches, his hips pressing forward, a deliberate movement that sends a blush blooming across Lucy’s cheeks. Their shared moan vibrates in the space between them, a harmony of longing and desire.

 

A soft thrum pulses through her as he grinds against her, their bodies moving in a rhythm as old as time. She’s too fucking perfect, his thoughts tumble in the heated haze, while Lucy’s fingers curl into the damp hair at the nape of his neck, feeling the slight give of his sweat-slicked skin.

 

He breathes out a guttural sound, his desire raw and unfiltered. As his hand trails down, disappearing beneath the fabric, Lucy’s chest rises and falls with each quickened breath. The warmth of his touch draws him closer, his fingers skimming along the wetness that pools between her thighs.

 

“Damn, darlin’, all this for me?” His voice is thick with awe, the words tumbling out as his body responds to the insistent throb within him, aching to plunge into the depths of her.

 

This beautiful woman—

Lucy

 

—slides her hand down the plane of his chest, finding the hardened length of him. Her touch sends a jolt of pleasure up his spine, and his gaze clouds with the intensity of it, her lipstick smeared across their faces a testament to their shared abandon.

 

Her bottom lip, caught between her teeth, is a study in temptation as she reaches for him, guiding him with deliberate ease. She sits up slightly, her breath hot against his ear as she nips at his earlobe, the tickle of her breath sending shivers down his neck.

 

“I want you inside me now,” she growls, the command thick with need.

 

He chuckles, a sound full of mischief and heat. “Where’s the romance?” he teases, though the glimmer in his eyes betrays his eagerness.

 

Lucy, ever strategic, smiles with a sly curve. “We can start here and finish in the bedroom.”

 

Cooper doesn’t need more persuasion. “That sounds like a plan to me,” he murmurs, shifting to sit up, his hands working quickly to free himself from the confines of his pants.

 

Her laughter is a light, breathy sound as she helps him, pushing the fabric down, the cool air kissing his heated skin as his cock springs free.

 

He leans back, giving Lucy the space to sit up, her hand gingerly grasping his hardened length. Her touch, though tentative, sends sparks along his nerves. He bites his lip, needing more. “Darlin’, can you—”

 

 

A sharp "pfft" echoes, The sound of her spitting catches him off guard, the wetness a sudden and desperate lubrication against his skin. 

She spit on my cock!?

 

“Uhhh, Jesuuhhhhss,” he moans, his eyes rolling back as his hips move involuntarily, seeking more of her touch.

 

Lucy’s hand works with precision, her spit a slick balm as she squeezes and strokes him, her other hand cupping him with gentle circles. “Fuck, darlin’, just like that,” he breathes, his voice thick with pleasure as his eyes find hers, her focus solely on him.

 

She’s lost in her task, her half-lidded gaze and tense mouth betraying her concentration, a primal urge stirring within him to unravel her completely.

 

“Okay, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his hands moving to still hers. She pauses, their eyes locking with a shared intensity.

 

Her stare is primal, her dark eyes reflecting the raw desire that pulses between them. He leans in, capturing her mouth in a kiss that speaks of thirst, of need.

 

Lucy gulps down his breath, her arms winding tighter around his neck as she surrenders to the tidal wave of his lips. Her dress, now a mere afterthought, is disheveled between them, the fabric barely a barrier to the heat they generate.

 

He pulls back, a quick kiss before he urges her to release his neck, sitting back up as his hands search beneath her dress.

 

Lucy moves with him, the fabric sliding away, revealing her fully to his touch. His hands find her hips, the connection electric as he pulls her underwear down, the garment slipping down her calves, one loop catching on her ankle.

 

With her legs free, she wraps them around his waist, pulling him closer, his left hand caressing the warmth of her thigh, his other hand slipping beneath the fabric to find her folds.

 

Lucy’s breath hitches as his finger traces the sensitive skin, the sensation swelling inside her, an invitation for more. His touch is deliberate, his finger dipping into her with a slow, measured pace, her body responding with a clench, a silent plea for more.

 

Their sighs are a shared song, Lucy’s a soft whine, Cooper’s a guttural growl as he pumps her slowly, feeling her loosen around him. The sudden loss of his finger pulls a grunt from her, her body spasming in protest.

 

Cooper brings his slickened finger to his cock, coating himself with her essence. His hand moves in slow strokes, marveling at the sight of Lucy, disheveled and wanting beneath him.

 

Lucy’s tongue swipes across her lip, her gaze fixed on him as he strokes himself, her scent filling his senses, a tantalizing promise.

 

Lucy devours the sight of Cooper lost in his own pleasure, her tongue slipping across her lip with deliberate slowness. His dazed gaze tracks the motion, captivated as her tongue traces the outline of her perfect mouth. The tangy, sweet scent of her arousal fills his senses, making his mouth water with anticipation.

 

With purpose, Cooper moves to taste her, taking his left hand off her thigh and bringing it to her honeypot. She whimpers at the swift intrusion, his fingers breaching her with practiced ease. He penetrates her repeatedly, each thrust accompanied by a curling motion that sends her quivering under his touch. Sweat beads on her skin, her stomach muscles contracting with every sway of her hips as they fight to keep up with his relentless rhythm.

 

The sensation is tantalizing, but it isn’t enough to sate her.

 

Cooper slows his ministrations, his fingers gathering more of her nectar. Instead of continuing to stroke himself, he brings his glistening finger to his mouth, enveloping the digit with a deep moan, his lids falling closed as he savors the taste. “Mmmm,” he murmurs, as expected. She tastes of perfection.

 

The clean, slightly salted flavor floods his taste buds, and he eagerly bobs his head, sucking his finger to ensure not a drop is wasted.

 

When he reopens his eyes, Lucy is sprawled out, blissed and glowing in the aftermath. He gives her a wry smile, his focus sharpening with sultry intensity as he slowly works his shaft, his eyes never leaving her.

 

His fully blown pupils trace a blazing trail of goosebumps along her body, landing on her partially exposed core.

 

He returns his left hand to her entrance, inserting his fingers again, pumping in tandem with the strokes of his other hand. Her pussy is a wet mess, and beneath her dress, her thighs are damp with the arousal that Cooper has been expertly teasing. The cool air mingles with the slick on her thighs, drawing a soft whine from her lips.

 

Cooper's gaze shifts back to Lucy, and he removes his right hand from himself to lay it flat on her stomach, massaging her torso with a reassuring motion. “You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?” he whispers, his voice thick with admiration.

 

He pulls his hand back from her heat and brings it to his mouth, grazing his lips with her gloss, mimicking the act of applying a generous amount of chap-stick.

 

Finally, Cooper moves his weight back over Lucy, who eagerly wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him fully flushed against her. She feels his hot member rest atop her sex, separated only by the thin layer of fabric between them.

 

He kisses her then, first lips directly on lips, sharing the taste of her. Then, with a flick of his tongue, he works open her mouth, their slick combining in a heated mix of saliva.

 

Lucy moans at the taste of herself, a deep pink flush spreading across her body as she revels in the sensation.

 

Cooper searches to free himself from the fabric that keeps them apart. When he succeeds, he takes himself in hand, stroking pleasurably as he brings his tip to her clitoral hood. A firm smack of his head against her clit sends a jolt of white-hot heat through Lucy’s abdomen. She releases a keen chirp, her arms springing to cling around Cooper’s neck, pulling him closer as their desires align in a perfect, urgent rhythm.

 

Finally, he presses into her, his tip enveloped by her warmth, her body pulling him in with each convulsion. “Fuck,” he groans, his head falling to her neck as he slides in fully, their hips meeting with a final thrust.

 

Lucy’s body responds, her eyes rolling back as Cooper fills her completely. His weight is a comfort, a captivity she welcomes as he moves within her, the friction building with each thrust.

 

“Ugghhh,” she moans, losing herself in the sensation of his hold, her lids fluttering closed as he quickens his pace, his thrusts becoming more desperate, less controlled.

 

Her hips move with his, their rhythm a dance of need, the furious pounding creating a symphony of skin on skin. Her legs tighten around him, pressing him closer, her head bumping against the loveseat as he grips her shoulders, securing her in place.

 

The new angle intensifies their connection, her walls tightening around him, pulling him deeper with each thrust. Her voice rises, uncharacteristic curses spilling from her lips “Yes, yes, fuck!” she exclaims in a hoarse rush. He fucks her faster. The sensation knocks her up an octave with a sharp intake of breath. “Ah, geez Louise, this is great.” She shakes her head frantically. “Please don't stop. Please don’t stop.”  She cries out, stopping to take a deep breath before continuing to take every upward thrust.

 

Cooper is lost in her, every sense overwhelmed by her warmth, her scent, her voice. Her body grips him with a skill that leaves him breathless, his balls tightening as he nears the edge.

 

His breath hitches, his hips stuttering as his climax crashes over him, His phallus trembles inside his wife, his body shuddering as he releases deep inside her. Lucy’s body quakes in response, Her muscles contracting along his cock, assisting in the milking of his spent member.

 

The sensation of his release sent a wave of pleasure through her. It spread from her abdomen to her chest, finishing with a huge dose to the brain with oxytocin.

 

They lay together, bodies entwined, their breaths mingling as they come down from the high. Cooper lifts his head, searching for her gaze, finding her eyes heavy with satisfaction.

 

But Cooper is gobsmacked, "Oh my god, I'm sorry, " he blurts out, utter disbelief that he came that quickly.

 

"It's okay!" Lucy interrupts, her tone reassuring.

 

"I- I guess I know that, it's just… don't know what came over me ." his words tumble out in a rush of amazement. 

 

Cooper feels Lucy chuckle beneath him. “It’s alright. I enjoyed every noise you just made.” she giggled.

 

Cooper feels his cheeks warm at the acknowledgment that he did make some pretty interesting noises. He huffs a low laugh, leaning in to close the two-inch gap between them.

 

Still not fully soft, Cooper starts to rotate his hips. Lucy moans into his mouth, pulling away to breathe between them. “I love you,” she said.

 

Cooper feels like a cold bucket of water has been thrown over him, jolting him out of the warmth of the moment and back into a stark reality.

Love me?

She doesn’t love me. Nobody…

 

His dick still inside Lucy creates a shock to the senses that leaves him momentarily disoriented.

 

His eyes screw shut, trying to block out the external world and retreat into the turmoil of his own thoughts.

 

How did we get here? He tries to piece together the events leading up to this moment. The last thing he remembers...

 

“Cooper?” 

 

A net. There was a net. Lucy! Lucy was shot with a tranq

 

He straightens opening his eyes, looking down at her. The realization hits him like a freight train. I'm inside her.

 

Her brows furrowed as she sits up, leaning on her right forearm for support. With a gentle touch, she lifts her left hand to cup Cooper's confused face.

 

Every nerve in his body seems to light up at her touch.

 

Her muscles contract around him, and a wave of panic surges. He flings himself away from her.

 

Lucy gasps loudly as her husband recoils from inside her. Heart skipping a beat as she watches him tumble over the side of the couch.

 

With a comical thud, Cooper's back slams against the hardwood, a sharp pain radiating through his body"What's going on?!" he shouted, his voice echoing in the cavernous room, desperation palpable in every word. "Where ARE we!?" he roared.

 

Lucy sits up and moves to tend to the shaken man on the floor. "What are you talking about, honey? What happened?" she asks, reaching out to touch him, but he flinches and hurries to stand. As he does,  his pants slide to his ankles.

 

Cooper glances down at his bare skin, the salt and pepper hair trailing down to a well-trimmed bush of pubic hair. Beyond that...

 

"What?" he mutters, studying his appendage still on display. No scars.

 

He looks up, meeting Lucy's gaze. She's also looking at his cock, though her expression is a mix of concern and curiosity...Her large, sorrowful eyes meet his.

 

"Cooper, pleease," she implores "Talk to me." 

 

What else is different? He whirls around, scanning the room. Mirror. "Where's the bathroom?" he asks her abruptly, his tone curt-catching her off guard.

 

Hastily, he pulls up his pants, his movements frantic as he struggles to to ajust and zip.

 

"W-what?" Lucy asks.

 

"The bathroom! There is one, right!?" he snaps. If there are paper fucking doilies on the coffee table, there's gotta be a bathroom.

 

Lucy, nods quickly,  as she points towards the hallway. "Yes, it's down the hall, second door on the left,"  

 

Cooper strides down the hallway, his steps quick and purposeful. As he nears an open doorway, he hesitates before Peeking around the corner, he scans the room beyond, his heart pounding in his chest. Empty.

 

The room resembles a quaint Pre-War kitchen, its countertops lined with familiar utensils. “What the fuck is going on?” he whispers.

 

Reaching the second door, his hand trembles as he twists the knob and pushes it open.

 

He closes the door behind himself, a surge of relief washing over him as he finds the lock. With a simple click, he secures it, the sound echoing in the small confines of the bathroom. Exhaling deeply, a sense of fleeting calm washes over him, only to be shattered by the sound of footsteps approaching from beyond the door.

 

"Cooper?"

 

Ignoring the woman's voice, he lifts his gaze, meeting his own eyes in the mirror.

 

He freezes, his breath catching in his throat. Confronted with a haunting specter of his former self, the charming visage of Cooper Howard. A tumult of disbelief, longing, and despair floods his being, each emotion warring for dominance within him.

 

He lifts a trembling hand to touch his cheek. The skin there is soft, unblemished, a stark contrast to the ghoul raging beneath the surface. Covered in faded red lipstick, he tests his facial muscles, feeling a flicker of relief as his lips curve into a slight smile, revealing his pearly white teeth. my face.

 

 "This isn't real," he whispers.

 

Hot, wet tears fill the creases of his eyes and cascade down his cheeks. A heated pin prick mingled between his eyes. He combs his fingers through his hair, then clenching into fists and pulling at the scalp. "This isn’t real." He choked out again.

But he’d like it to be.

 

He grimaces and pulls his fist back, muscles tensing as His knuckles collide with the mirror, shattering the glass with a resounding crash.

 

Pain explodes, sharp and immediate, radiating up his arm like a fiery inferno. The sensation is jarring, yet strangely grounding in its intensity, a physical manifestation of certainty.

 

He examines his bloody fist, "It feels real," he murmurs.

 

Hearing glass shatter, Lucy’s heart lurches in her chest, Pressing her ear against the door, she strains to catch the sound of Cooper's sobs. 

 

Tears blur her vision, Locked out of the bathroom, she can only listen helplessly, her heart breaking with each passing moment as she longs to comfort her husband.

 

"Cooper, love," she's barely audible through the barrier of the door. "Please, tell me you're okay."

 

Sobs grow louder, reverberating through the room like a haunting melody of despair.  "Did you hurt yourself?" she asks, her voice felt too small for the situation.

 

The silence that follows is deafening, the absence of a response amplifying her anxiety. She presses her ear against the door once more, straining to hear any sign of movement from within.

 

As Lucy tugs and twists at the stubborn contraption. Cooper turns his attention to the jiggling door handle, a pang of concern flickering in his eyes. He can hear Lucy's efforts on the other side.

 

Everything feels surreal, as if he has been thrust into a nightmare from which he can't wake. The room, the shattered mirror, even Lucy herself—all of it seems too perfect, too pristine to be real. Who is she? Is she even my Lucy?

 

 

Is she even his wife? 

 

I had a wife.   

 

He had an Ex-Wife named Barb. 

 

Janey

 

He had a daughter too. 

 

Where is my daughter?

 

She’s with Barb. 

 

And Where the Fuck is Barb!?

 

“Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock”

 

 

Chapter 10: From Goo to Worse

Notes:

This chapter was super fun to write! I want to thank everyone for leaving Kudos and Comments, the support means SO much. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Trigger warning for Claustrophobic Situations.

“Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock”

Frantic knocking interrupts Cooper's interrogation of his own mind.

 

With a frustrated sigh, he rolls his neck, attempting to alleviate the tension building in his muscles as he watches the door tremble; Urgency seeping through its rattling frame.  

He rubs his temples, surveying the cramped confines. The walls, which were painted a sickly shade of orange, suffocated in, close around him. A faded peach shower curtain hung limply, its color muted and forlorn, accented by dark brown fixtures dotting the room. 

 

It was all a stark contrast to the garish pink decor.

 

Beneath his feet, the shattered remnants of a mirror crunched– A sudden, violent motion forcibly propelled him backward. 

His back collided with the wall, a jarring impact that sent a sharp, un-puncturing pain radiating from the base of his skull, screwing his eyes shut–

 

Agony began to surge. A relentless onslaught that engulfed every fiber of his being, as if he was being torn apart and reassembled, a cruel torment that defied all reason and comprehension.

Struggling to pry his eyes open, Cooper found them weighed down by a heavy, slick sensation. 

 

He released a desperate bid for air, but was met with an unyielding barrier—a mask was pressed tightly over his nose hole and mouth, its presence amplified by a tube lodged in his throat, choking him.

 He groped at the foreign intrusion, fingers clawing at the oppressive mask.

 With a guttural groan, he wrenched the tube free, his chest heaving as he struggled to draw in gulps of air.

 

A viscous substance trickled down his face, seeping into his uncovered nose hole and further obstructing his already compromised airway. He gags and writhes around blind.

 

A steamy hiss is heard, slicing through the stillness as the wall ahead lurched forward. The mucus seemed to gush away as Cooper lost his standing, weak limbs forced to crumple down onto a hard metal surface. His muscles screamed, joints stiffening with every frantic motion. Sprawled on the cold grating, he winced as its unyielding surface bit into his flesh, leaving a grid of painful imprints.

 

He raised a shaky hand to clear his face, scrubbing away the stubborn goo that clung to his skin. Through bleary vision, the world morphed into a disorienting blur of jagged shapes and washed-out colors.  

 

Above him, there was a relentless hum of overhead lights that filled the air. Their muted glow cast soft shadows that danced across his prone form as he struggled to rise. 

 

 Remnants of the thick liquid clung stubbornly to his body, coating him in a sticky film that began to dry. The layer formed a tight, uncomfortable layer working against him. 

 

 The smell of sweat hung heavy in the air, emanating not just from his own exertion, but also from the goo itself—a pungent concentration of perspiration that assaulted his senses with its overpowering intensity.

 

 Vision gradually clearing, he surveys the room around him—a space enclosed by thick, reinforced steel walls painted in the faded blue and yellow typical of Vault-Tec design.

 

 Inspectful eyes moved to the towering contraption from which he had fallen. A door stood open like a monstrous awning, dominating the space. 

Inside, a sickly orange glow bathed the interior, revealing clear, peachy jelly that oozed down the sides. Among that coloring was a tangled mess of tubes and wires. The once-functioning machinery tentacles now lay inert and abandoned.

Looking around further, he observed rows of other goo pods lining the room, each adorned with blinking lights and whirring music. 

 

 Though windows inside filled the room, any attempt to peer in proved futile; the viscous goo obscured any view of potential occupants, rendering them hidden and mysterious.

 Lucy.

 

 A distant clang is heard, grabbing his attention. First, it reverberated through the chamber,  followed by a rhythmic echo of approaching footsteps. 

Cooper attempts to move, to hide, but his body rebels against the effort–

And his head was throbbing,

making it difficult to focus.

 

The world around him tilted and spun; his equilibrium shattered, just like his bathroom mirror.

 

The tranquil facade of some simulation shattered, left him raging. Leaving behind a dark-stark, clinical reality that tore at the seams of his sanity. 

 

Memories colliding in his mind like debris from a hurricane— Lucy.

 

 Images of his wife– intertwined with fleeting glimpses of another woman, just his traveling companion. 

Where is she? 

 

 He wanted to make out the figures of persons approaching with purposeful strides, but his weary eyes battled against the fog of exhaustion—a bright light was shone directly into his pupils.

He flinched, then adjusted.

 

Their faces were obscured by masks.

Strong hands lifted him from beneath his armpits, dragging his limp form from the unforgiving floor. 

Face-down and disoriented, he offered no resistance as they took him.

 

---

 

 

The door burst open.

 

Stumbling through the bathroom doorway, Lucy’s momentum was carried into her husband's solid chest. 

"Oh—"

Head tilting upward, her heart skipped as she studied him, noticing the tension in his jaw and the change in expression. 

 

He seemed much calmer now…

 

 "Are—are you okay?" Her voice was small, and her face was streaked. During the commotion, mascara had left large smudges of darkness beneath her eyes.

 

His head snapped down, and she startled with a step back. 

 A big, toothy grin grew across his face. “I’m fine, sweetheart!” he reached for her, bringing her back into him. “I’m sorry for giving you a scare. I just had terrible gas,” he added.

 

She could sense something amiss. And no, not just because he’d quite literally freaked out a moment earlier, but because standing locked together?... She couldn't shake the feeling of being held by a stranger. Wearing her husband's skin.

 Her brows furrowed as she tried to pull away. “That wasn’t gas.” 

He had been a frantic mess, and now… he stood here with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes.

 

Cooper chuckles, but the sound is hollow. “Sure, it was. I just thought it was more serious. No need to worry about me, darling.” He lets her go, breezing into the hallway.

Lucy was left alone, standing in her unease. 

 

 “I’m starving, what's for dinner?” She heard his voice fade as he turned into the kitchen.

 

She stared into the empty bathroom. Everything seemed normal... 

 

With a couple cautious steps, she crossed the threshold, her eyes scanning the tiled floor. 

I thought I heard…

 

She glanced up at the mirror, its surface as pristine as ever.

 Her eyes met her own reflection. What?...

Uncertainty danced in the depths of her brows, adding a haunting depth to her beauty. Her face and makeup had not a smudge out of place, which sent another wave of turmoil within her soul.

The mirror offered no answers to her silent inquiry.

 

"Lucy!"

 

She tears her gaze away from the looking glass, "Okie-dokie," she murmured, putting on her signature smile.

 

She exited the bathroom, the echo of her husband's voice urging her forward.

 

Stopping in the kitchen doorway, her hand gripped the frame as she studied the back of… him. 

 

He was fiddling with the foil-wrapped plates left on the counter, as an unfamiliar tune escaped his lips.

 He was less like himself, even compared to his moments of flailing chaos.

 Her husband turned around and flashed her another smile. “Hope you don’t mind, but I stole a bite of cold potatoes.”

 

Lucy eyed him, her gaze distracted by something unseen. “It's okay… That's what I made it for.”

 

He continued grinning.

It's too much.

Stepping forward, she tensed as his arms encircled her. Not wanting to be rude, she reciprocated, hands landing on his lower back as she looked up at his face.

Once again, he was smiling fondly at her. 

 

Slowly, she tried to return the smile, searching his eyes for clues to his problems.

 The eyes that met hers, however, were an endless abyss. Within them, nothing but her reflection stared back at her.

Where is his twinkle?

 

 

She leans back to take in his face, the stubble lining his jaw and the tight-lipped smile that caused creases around his eyes, framing his prominent nose–as usual.

 

Nose!

 

Familiar features be damned, there was an emptiness in his gaze.  As if someone had switched off the light behind his eyes, leaving only a hollow shell of the man she once knew.

 

Emotions churned within her, akin to encountering a predator, she felt a sense to run. She slowly began to pull herself away, careful not to upset the man. “W-who are you?” she said, with a barely concealed tremble in her voice. 

 

He looked at her, confused.“I’m your husband,” he said.

 

I don’t have a husband.

 

Lucy shook her head, “You're not my husband,” she said, taking another tentative step back, “What have you done to him?” 

 

“Lucy, Darling, you're confused—”

 

“No!” Anger surged through her; she would not stand to be told how she feels. “Who are you!?” 

 

He reached out to grab her arm, but she threw herself against the counter with an involuntary shudder. “Don't touch me!” she shouted. 

 

A searing bolt of agony suddenly ripped through her temples, followed by a white-hot lance of pain that pierced through the back of her head. It felt as if a thousand needles were stabbing into her brain. She gasped, clutching her head as she doubled over. 

"Cooper!" She cried, hoping against all hope that he would hear her.

Wherever he was.

 

---

 

 

"Sir, He's coming to."

 

Cooper's head swayed as consciousness slowly surfaced. What's that?

 

Muffled voices dance around him, Through the haze, a hand emerges, its fingers snapping sharply. The sound pierces through his throbbing head like a needle, causing him to grimace.

 

"Mr. Howard? Mr. Howard, do you understand me?" 

 

Cooper fights the fog, struggling to focus on the voice. With a determined effort, he manages to lift his gaze.

 

He was propped up and bound to a chair in a room marked by the unmistakable signs of Vault Tec. Harsh fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting sterile reflections off the sleek, metallic surfaces. Before him stood a man in the standard blue and yellow jumpsuit, his authority underscored by the pristine white lab coat draped over it.

 

Cooper emitted a breathy noise. Now, where the hell am I?

 

“Ah, Mr. Cooper–” he claps his hands together with a sharp sound, rubbing them, in a gesture that seems more theatrical than menacing. “I’m so glad you're awake. You have been quite …a nuisance.”

Cooper's eyes roll skyward, setting the stage for a series of deliberate physical adjustments. Slowly rotating his neck, he elicited a quiet click from his jaw as dryness clung to his throat like sandpaper. He smacked his lips, trying to coax moisture back into his mouth before speaking with his dry drawl, "Well, I'm sorry 'bout that.”

 

The doctor huffed through his nose, "My name is Dr. Glension. This is my Goo Facility in Vault–"

 

"Can I go?" Cooper cuts in.

 

 The Doctor stutters."Wha–"

 

Once again, Cooper interrupts him. "It's just," he shrugs, "I don't need your whole life story if you're just gonna kill me," he finishes.

 

Glension scoffs. "Really? Well, would you be interested in hearing about…” His voice lowered, “Your wife?"

 

Cooper's gaze snaps to the doctor, his mind racing. Lucy! Thoughts of where she is, if she's okay.

 

The doctor smirked at Cooper's newfound attention. "You are Barbara Howard's ex-husband, are you not?"

 

Cooper's face slumped at the mention of her name. Oh, Barb. Then, his posture straightened. Barb?

 "She's..." His mouth opened and closed,

 "She's alive?" he asked. That can't be right—it's been too long— He can't believe it, because if Barb was alive then—

 

The doctor settles into a chair, a smug expression playing across his features as he leans back, as his fingers drum together, "Aren't you more interested in how I know who 'you' are?"

 

"No," Cooper replied, with a shrug, 

 

The doctor faltered at Cooper's indifference as a faint snicker echoed from another lab coat in the room. The Doctor fixes a glare on someone behind The Ghoul. "Stevens, OUT! NOW," he shouted.

 

A polite "Yes, sir" follows, accompanied by the shuffle of footsteps retreating from the room.

 

The doctor's voice took on a tone of calculated precision, "Listen. When we caught you and the young Lucy Maclean, we saw an opportunity to harvest viable materials from both of you. What's more, both Lucy and you had Vault-Tec medical files and DNA samples readily available. It made our decision to take your valuables seem like... fate. But it also alerted a certain someone who was awfully surprised to hear you were alive," he punctuated his statement with a flourish of his hand directed at Cooper. "Are you following?" he asked.

 

"Sort of," he began, feeling his dizziness creep back in as an equal amount of surprise filled him to hear that a certain someone was alive. 

 

"Good, because we're running out of time," the doctor said briskly.

 

"Your ‘use’ ended a long time ago," he continued, "But Lucy is still in the middle of our treatments and can't leave the pod just yet."

 

The doctor's evasive tone did not escape Cooper's notice; it was clear that he was withholding crucial information, speaking in half-truths.

 

As Cooper opened his mouth to ask a question, the sound of the door whisking open interrupted them.

 

An urgent distant voice reached his ears. "Sir, she's panicking."

 

The doctor's demeanor shifted; he shook his head in frustration. "God dammit, she’s getting faster." With a determined resolve, the doctor rises from his seat and gestures behind Cooper. "Alright, let's get him back to the pod," he commands.

 

Two pairs of hands closed around Cooper's body, pulling him up from the chair, standing him on shaky legs. He glances down at his bare feet, a moment of disorientation washing over him, before lifting his gaze to the approaching Doctor.

 

"Here's the deal," his tone is businesslike."We're putting you back in the simulation without the mind-numbing drug. It's pointless to give it to you. You're burning through it at a faster and faster rate. You're going to be conscious the whole time. You'll feel time pass, and you'll notice things others don't. Get over it." 

 

Cooper opens his mouth to speak, but the doctor harshly shushes him. 

 

"Every time you self-eject, we almost lose Lucy." The Doctor continued, "If she doesn't stay calm, we lose all the progress we've made with her. This is where you come in: Keep HER calm." The last words were hissed out. Then, with a casual shrug, the doctor finished his sentence lightly. "Or else."

 

"Or else what?" Cooper growled.

 

The doctor's smile remains,  "I think giving you time to use your imagination will do wonders.” 

Leaning forward, he crosses his arms tightly over his chest, as his breath invades Cooper's ear. "I can't stress enough how crucial it is to preserve the data we've collected this past year," he whispers.

 

Cooper recoiled. A year? He thought, eyes locked on the doctor in a hard glare. 

 

A cold satisfaction gleams in the doctor's eyes. "Ah, yes. –You've lost a year of your life, here in this facility," he observed Cooper, "I'll give you a moment to process that."

 

Cooper had so many questions, one old—Barb, one new—Lucy— His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a slap across his face.

 Anger flares within him, but the Doctor is already straightening up, snapping his fingers at the bodies behind him."Take him away," he ordered.

 

He’s moved backward. "Wait! Tell me more!" he panicked, I need to know more!

 

The men keep moving, and Dr. Glension's figure recedes further into the distance. “Is my daughter alive!” he screams, his voice echoes off the cold, steel walls, but everyone ignores him.

 

A swift noise was heard as they walked through a doorway. 

 

Cooper hisses, digging in his heels to slow their movement; the sharp edges of metal plates scrape against his Achilles tendon, sending jolts of shock through his leg.

 

The two men adjust their grip, barely breaking stride as they drag him down the dimly lit corridor. The Ghoul strains to keep his head up, his eyes darting around to take in every detail of his surroundings. The painted number on the wall caught his eye: Vault 97.

 

“97?” Cooper muttered. In all my 200 years, he had never heard of Vault 97 in the Mojave Desert.

 

Tilting his head to the right, Cooper addresses one of the men. “Hey, Tweedle-Dee. What are they doing to us here?”

 

The man doesn’t look at Cooper but lets out a laugh and glances at his companion. “Ha! That makes you Tweedle-Dum!” 

 

Cooper turns his head to see Tweedle-Dum's reaction. The man keeps a stern face and replies with a gruff, “Shut up, Jerry.”  Looking down at Cooper. “Like the Doctor said, they've been running tests and collecting data.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Cooper interrupted, “For what purpose?” He tries to shift more of his weight, hoping to slow their forward progress. “And what's with the goo?” he adds.

 

Tweedle-Dum kept his gaze forward, his lips curling into a cruel smirk. “You should have let the Doctor talk.”

 

Jerry breaks in with a laugh, “Yeah–The guy can’t shut up about his ‘Goo.’”

 

“JERRY!” Tweedle-Dum scolds.

 

Cooper decides to keep addressing the softer of the two. “Jerry,” he said. The man to his right looks down, acknowledging the Ghoul.  “Be honest, what are my chances of getting out of here?” 

 

“Not happening,” Tweedle-Dum responds. 

 

“I was askin’ Jerry.” Cooper hisses out and then sweetly returns his gaze to Jerry, who was smirking at Cooper's words.

 Jerry scrunches up. “I don’t know. No one has ever escaped the facility before.”

 

“That's right!” Tweedle-Dum confirmed.

 

“Buuut,” Jerry started. “No one had ever self-ejected from the pods before you, so…” Jerry trails off. Tweedle-Dum shoots him an annoyed look.

 

“That doesn’t mean anything. That only started to happen because he was having panic attacks.” Tweedle-Dum tells the other matter-of-factly.

 

Jerry shoots his coworker another look. “That's MY point. We’re operating in new territory.” 

 

“You know… it almost sounds like you WANT him to escape!” Tweedle-Dum said.

 

“And lose this easy job? No thanks. But you know, some pre-war countries deemed it a human right to crave freedom, thus not punishing you for attempting to escape prisons,” Jerry said, clearly excited to share his knowledge of pre-war history.

 

Cooper turns his attention to Tweedle-Dum, noticing the shake of his head. He laughed bitterly and looked hard at Jerry. “This look like a human to you?”

 

Cooper would have felt hurt if he hadn’t heard it all before. He looked up to Jerry, who met his gaze. His brows furrowed as he inspected Cooper, before looking away with a pained grimace.

 

“Look, boys,” Cooper started. He'd endure a thousand insults if it meant gaining a little more insight into the situation he and his – Lucy were in.

 

“Shut up,” Tweedle-Dum said. 

 

Cooper strained his neck to catch a glimpse of what lay ahead as the three of them turned a corner to the left. 

 

Jerry was seen swiping a key card and inputting a code, One-two-three...stop. Cooper counted the tones—three in total.

 

The door swiftly opened, and the men proceeded inside.

 

---

 

 

 

Lucy hurled a cup of cooking utensils at the uncanny Cooper’s head. He ducked, the ceramic container shattering behind him. Her husband stood up straight.

 “Darling, please. Tell me what's wrong.”

 

Navigating her way around the kitchen, Lucy avoided the man. “I told you! I want my real Cooper!” 

 

HE suddenly advanced, grabbing her by the shoulders. 

Lucy fights against his grip. 

“Tell me if this feels real.” He said, moving in quickly to press his lips against hers. 

 Her face soured from the pressure.

Before he could take it further, a sharp pain rippled through his body—starting from his groin.

 

Lucy lowers her knee from the man, who was now toppling over. With a simple push, she assisted gravity in sending him to the floor.  “Did that feel real?” she taunted, stepping over the man with a sharp click of her heels, rushing for the front door.

 

Her hand hovers over the doorknob. 

 I can’t leave home.

 

“Lucy! Sweetheart!”

 

Her stomach churns, torn between the familiar comfort of her home and the daunting uncertainty of the outside world.

Taking a deep breath, she clenches her free fist.

 I’ll be okay.

 

The silence of the room seemed to amplify the sound of her heartbeat as she squared her shoulders—like readying herself for battle.

 

With a shaky breath, she turns the doorknob and pulls. Her eyes flinch with an expectation of the sun's heat just as it did before …

 But heat didn't wrap around Lucy as expected. 

The wind remained still, refusing to play with her bangs. 

The light didn't dazzle her; its brilliance dulled to a mere flicker. 

Stepping off her porch into the outside world, she slowly ventured further with her gaze fixed on the sky above. The light emanating from above shimmered, casting an all too familiar glow. 

A nagging suspicion began to gnaw at Lucy's mind.

That's not the real sun.

 

In the street and transfixed on the sky, Lucy didn't see her husband exiting the house.

 

---

Cooper observes as Jerry inputs his last name into the Vault-Tec monitor, the screen immediately displaying it among a master list of names. With a subtle click of a button, a faint hiss emanates from the background. Jerry then assists Tweedle-Dum as they direct him toward what appears to be his designated pod.

 

As they fitted him back in, Cooper's eyes darted around, taking in every detail. 8 pods, at least 6 lab coats wandering around...

 

Tweedle-Dum drifts away to tinker with a distant computer, leaving Jerry alone with Cooper.

 

Seizing the opportunity, Jerry leaned in close, “The Goo is a special healing formula concocted by the Doctor. It's incredibly useful for the procedures they conduct here,” he explains, his gaze flicking back to Tweedle-Dum, “I'm not directly involved with Lucy's case, but I've heard enough to know that if she's removed from the Goo too soon, it could trigger cardiac arrest.” 

 

Cooper's teeth clench tightly around his words, “What do they do here?” 

 

“Mainly organ harvesting for trades with the surface,” Jerry responded flatly.

 

The Ghouls' stomach lurches with a sickening sense of dread. “Fuck,” he sputters, We're fucked.

 

“Why the simulation?” he rushes out,  “Why take out parts and play with our minds? It's so stupidly cruel.”

 

Jerry just shrugs, “It's a leftover feature, from when the pods were the Vault's ‘Med Spa.’”

 

Cooper glances over at Tweedle-Dum. The man was engrossed in some printing graph lines. 

Jerry continued to meticulously connect him to tubes with needles.

 

“Why are you telling me all this?” He asks in a hushed tone. 

 

Tweedle-Dee's willingness to share information felt unnerving, too helpful for someone in their situation.

 

Jerry straightened, meeting Cooper's gaze with an earnest look. “Everyone knew about you from our Vault-Tec history class, and of course from the movies. We were told you died before reaching your vault.” Cooper furrowed his brow at the revelation, noting the differences between Jerry's account and the brainwashed history Lucy had been fed. Seems this vault is more in the know than 33.

 

 

Jerry continues disbelievingly. “Everyone was shocked to find you-” he gave The Ghoul's radiated, riddled body a quick once-over, “-Alive,” he finished, his voice trailing off into a breathy whisper. “Some people in the vault just think it's weird seeing someone we know in the Sim,” he added.

 

“So you can see us there?” Cooper asks, How can we plan and scheme if we're being watched 24/7?

 

“Not all the time. There are old privacy settings in place, like for nudity. Helps keep it PG13 for the whole family,” Jerry assures him.

 

Cooper was puzzled by Jerry's choice of words. The whole family?

 

“Everyone watches the pod people, like a sort of...” Jerry struggled to find the right words, unused to explaining the intricacies of the Sim to others outside of his vault.

 

“Reality show,” Cooper finished for him, a sense of resignation creeping into his voice. Jerry's eyes lit up.

 

“I would have said Pod-cast, but you're familiar with the concept?” Jerry asked, intrigued by Cooper's understanding.

 

“Yup,” Cooper replied, his shoulders slumping as the machine around him began emitting running whirring noises. We're really fucked.

 

“Anyway, I'm sorry I can’t help you. Truly, my wife is going to be jealous that I got to talk to you. She wasn’t a fan of yours until seeing you in the Sim. But I've liked you since 'A Man and his Dog',” He confessed with a wistful smile.

 

A shout from Tweedle-Dum cuts through the loud noise. “Jerry! Is he ready?” 

 

Jerry steps back to glance at his partner. “Almost, just gotta give him the tube!” He turns back to Cooper,  picking up the final piece to his pod's puzzle. 

It was the face mask that resembled a gas nozzle. A shiver goes down Cooper's spine.

 

Moving to grip his face, Jerry instructs him eagerly, “Open wide, I think I can get this on the first try.”

 

Cooper reacted quickly, clenching his jaw away from Jerry's grip.

 

Startled, the man opens his mouth to speak, but Cooper cuts him off, “Tell your wife I said ‘Howdy’,” he spoke with a theatrical drawl, adding a flirtatious wink for good measure.

 

Jerry's initial surprise gives way to excitement. “I will!” 

 

Cooper gives the Goon a final nod before leaning back to allow Jerry to perform his task. He closed his eyes, willing himself to relax.

 The sensation was intrusive, unwelcome. A single tear slipped from the corner of his closed eye as a small part of him looked forward to going back to the simulation.

 

He heard a final faint “Good luck” from the good guy goon, followed by a much louder, “We're good!” before the sound of a hiss and a click indicated that the pod door was closing.

 

Cooper jumps as he feels the first touch of the warmed goo beginning to rise at his feet, enveloping his toes in its embrace.

The mask stayed clamped tightly over his mouth and nose hole as the pod filled with dense jelly. 

 As it climbed past his pits, his mind buzzed with urgency. 

First things first. Talk to Lucy.

 He repeats this like a mantra, dread creeping in that he might lose consciousness despite their villain's assurances. 

 When the goo engulfed his ears, his chest tightened, the sensation of being submerged intensifying. 

 The breathing device kept him alive, yet the feeling of suffocation persisted.

 Something in the goo shifted, a sudden poke at the base of his neck.

 

What the—? 

His thought shattered as a searing pain shot through his skull.

 

His whole body convulsed, every nerve aflame as if molten metal coursed through his veins. 

 

Then, just as suddenly, it vanished. 

 

The tube that had been choking him disappeared.

 

I can breathe.

 

Cooper opens his eyes, flinching at the blinding light that pierces the dim memories of the vault. He glances down at his hands, their peachy flesh worn but undeniably human. Flexing his fingers, he marveled at their solidity. 

I’m back

 

He looks around the clean, suburban neighborhood, his surprised eyes landing on Lucy standing still in the street…staring directly at the sun.

 

 Typical Lucy. 

He rolled his eyes. He’s lost count of the times he's told her to “Stop staring at the sun.”

 “YOU’LL GO BLIND,” he had shouted, he’s been going purple-faced trying to make her understand. He snapped her attention off the blazing ball for the fourth time that day.

 

“Lucy!” Cooper shouted. He watches her shoulders jolt, her arms tightening to her body as she turns to face him, a true deer in the headlights.

 

She couldn't help but flinch at the sudden reappearance of her husband. He stood a mere 20 feet away from her, his figure silhouetted against the backdrop of their blue and yellow house. 

 

Cooper extends a gentle hand towards her, reminiscent of a cowboy soothing a restless bull. "I need you to stay calm." 

 

She laughed at him. 

Quick and mocking, forcing forward flashes of a smilulated life, and all the times he admired that exact sound from her. 

Now though? It pointed to trouble from his young wife. 

 

With a defiant gleam in her eyes, she holds Cooper's gaze as she slips off one of her heels. It clatters to the ground, her right foot landing flatly and firmly, a picture of defiance.

 

Cooper watches her actions, before an annoying realization dawns on him. "Don't—" 

 

In the blink of an eye, Lucy flung off her other heel and bolted up the street, leaving Cooper behind in her dust.

 

Cooper's hands fell to his waist, his fingers clenching in frustration as he watched Lucy stride away from him with a determined speed. "Ugh... Fuck.”

 

Chapter 11: Flicker? I hardly know her

 

 

Lucy sprints down the road, her bare feet striking the asphalt with every desperate step. Her hand moves to her lower abdomen, a cramp settling deep in her core, as her chest heaves with the effort of pushing forward.

 Where am I?

 

The sky was awash with orange and peach as the sun dipped. The colors seem too vivid, the shadows too sharp. The ground beneath her feels less like a solid surface and more like a precarious tightrope.

 I need to get out of here.

 

Behind her, a voice rings out, rough and urgent, "Lucy! Dammit, slow down! I’m here to keep you from losin’ it!" 

 

Lucy swerves sharply to the right, feeling the cool, soothing relief of the smoother sidewalk beneath her aching feet.

 She takes increasingly artificial breaths, the atmosphere heavy with an uncanny stillness.

 

Lawn after lawn creates a fleeting blur of green. A sickly tang from the neighbors' dented trash bins mingles with the sweet scent of grass. The boundary of the neighborhood feels tantalizingly close and impossibly far, an elusive escape that keeps slipping further away, the closer she gets. 

Footsteps behind her grow louder, closer –Suddenly, a metallic clang shatters the air.

 

A whirring sound follows, like a sharp breath slicing through the wind. Before she can react, a dull thud resonates against her back as a trash lid hits her with enough force to send her sprawling. 

 

She tumbles to the ground, arms flailing, landing in the cool, damp greenery. The fresh scent of earth envelops her, momentarily stunned.

What the H, E, Double Hell-

 

Cooper watches as the fluffy hem of her dress flips up, revealing a ridiculous mess of frills and petticoats, now smeared with green, fluttering around her like a tutu.

 

He catches up, breathing heavily. “Ya’ll right?” His voice was gruff, with a hint of guilt lurking beneath.

 

Lucy pushes her hair out of her face, her breath coming in angry, uneven bursts. Tears threaten to spill, but she blinks them away, smoothing her skirt with furious hands. She glares up at the man pretending to be her husband.

 Cooper.

 “You hit me!” she whined.

 

Cooper raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He plants one hand on his hip, the other making a dismissive wave. “Trust me, I coulda thrown it much harder.”

 

Lucy squints against the sunlight behind his head, shading her eyes with one hand. Despite the glare, she can still make out the playful expression on his face, which only fuels the irritation inside her.

 

She straightens up, brushing off the stubborn clumps of dirt clinging to her clothes. Her cheeks flush with a mix of anger and embarrassment, but she lifts her chin, determined to meet his gaze head-on.

 

Re-catching her attention, Cooper extends his hand, an olive branch of peace and assistance.

 

Lucy eyes his outstretched hand, her gaze narrowing. After a tense beat, she clasps it.

 

Before Cooper can think, Lucy yanks hard, his balance thrown off as he stumbles forward. Lucy leverages his momentum, flipping him onto his back.

 

He lands, the wind knocked out of him in a wheezy gasp. I shoulda seen that comin, he winced.

 

He catches a glimpse of Lucy’s dirt-smudged skirt hovering above him. Before he can fully process it, she plops down on his waist with a triumphant smirk.

 Old habits die hard, he muses, as her quick hands dart toward his throat, pressing down.

 Lucy's eyes blaze as she tightens her grip, pinning him into the cool grass. His heart pounds with adrenaline, his sweaty palms weakly trying to loosen her hold.

 

He feels every shift of her body, the tension in her muscles, the fierce determination in her stance. Lucy’s focus is unyielding, her uncertainty only fueling her strength.

 

Memories flood Cooper’s mind. Her sweat-soaked, exhausted face had looked down at him with an unexpected tenderness that soothed his weary soul.

 Now, she looks much the same— cleaner, but with a more murderous intent.

 

His face flushes a deep crimson as he struggles for air. He manages a small smile. 

 “Just like old times,” he croaks, the confidence fading as the pressure on his neck intensifies.

 

Lucy’s brow furrows. She tilts her head, as if trying to catch a distant memory.

 A whisper emerges from the depths of her mind: The recollection was faint but persistent.

 When he told me his name.

When he was holding me captive.

Clarity was contrasting with an artificial haze around her, anchoring Lucy in a way nothing else had.

 

Recognition flickers in her eyes: his face, familiar but softened, lacking the harsh crimson hue and gauntness she’s come to expect—and, strangely, cherish. She hesitates, her gaze shimmering as the weight of realization started to sink in.

 

Mustering courage, Lucy meets his eyes again, bracing herself against the fear of seeing that haunting emptiness.

 

Deep, velvety brown eyes lock with intense, amber-flecked hazel, a well of emotion reflecting between them. In his gaze, she sees herself mirrored, and then something more: a blend of fondness, admiration, trust, and love—her Husba— Friend.

 

She gasps, her hands falling away from his neck. Cooper coughs, his chest heaving as he gulps in air.

 

“Cooper?” Her voice was fragile, like it might shatter. Memories of a different life, a different world, flood her consciousness, leaving her disoriented—each fragment both intimately familiar and unsettlingly foreign.

 

He raises a hand to rub the tender skin of his neck, thinking, God damn, this place feels real. “Lucy,” he responds, rough with relief and lingering pain

 

 “Hank.”

 

The couple startles, their heads snapping toward the new voice. 

 

Hank MacLean sits on his front porch, the old wooden chair creaking softly as he rocks back and forth.

 

Lucy and Cooper exchange bewildered glances.

 

Cooper props himself up on his forearms, his chest almost brushing against Lucy’s torso. “Hank?” 

Was Hank in the simulation?

Nobody had mentioned Hank to Cooper.

 

Raising her hand to shield her eyes from the setting sun, Lucy squints at her father. “Daddy?”

 

Her heart pounds. How did we find him?

 

“Hey, pumpkin. How’s your evening with your husband going?” His eyebrow arches in curiosity, sarcasm weaving through his tone as he takes in the odd scene before him. 

 

Husband Lucy repeats internally.

 Yes, her husband, her brain supplies, reminding her of their one-year anniversary.

 

Her mouth falls open as she glances down at Cooper, searching for some understanding. “Uh...” words catch in her throat.  Stuck on conflicting memories that press down on her. 

Cooper watches Lucy struggle, her wide eyes reflecting her confusion. He shifts his glare to Hank, “What the hell, Hank? Were you just gonna sit there and watch her kill me?” he growled. Choosing to confront his ‘father-in-law.’

 

A rosy blush spreads across her cheeks as she realizes she’s missing something crucial. The cool evening air brushes against her heated skin as she squirms slightly, the grass tickling her legs as she becomes acutely aware of her position pressing down harder on Cooper’s lap.

 She feels a hand slide up her thigh. 

Glancing down, she notices his focus is still on her dad, seemingly unaware. Her stomach flips with a mix of relief and something warmer, the solid pressure of his hand reminding her she’s not alone.

 

Her attention snaps back to her father, trying to make sense of the situation.

 

Hank continues rocking back and forth. “I wasn't just watching. I also went to the shed and pulled out two shovels for some father-daughter bonding,” he pointed to his side with a casual flick of his wrist.

 

The couple follow Hank’s gesture, their eyes landing on two shovels propped up against the exterior wall of the house.  

Cooper's eyes narrowed at Hank. He hadn’t spent much time with young Henry outside of an autograph session and a tense swap-offs, but for Hank MacLean, his overbearing father-in-law, this kind of thing wasn’t out of character.

 

Lucy swallows her nerves, forcing herself to switch gears.

 Just roll with it- 

 “Oh, Daddy, it was just a... joke!” she exclaimed, her voice edged with nervous laughter. “A little melodrama on the lawn!” She shoots a glance at Cooper, her eyes wide.

 

Cooper arches an eyebrow, “Uh, yeah. You know me, always dustin’ off the ol’ acting chops,” he says, trying to match her casual tone.

 

Hank's face twists, skepticism etched into his furrowed brow. “Right, like when you act like a loving husband,” his lips curl into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

 

Cooper’s mouth tightens, “Yeah,” he nods, “or when I act, like I’m thrilled to see you.”

 

Respective glares lock across the distance, each man’s words laced with thinly veiled barbs. The fake smiles only emphasize the silent battle playing out between them. 

 

Lucy shakes her head with a strained laugh. “Well, that went well. Honey,” she says, addressing Cooper with a light pat on his head, “Thanks for playing along.” 

She starts to move off Cooper’s lap, cradling her stomach in the effort, “Daddy, I hope you enjoyed the show. Cooper and I should probably get... h-home.” She glances back at Cooper with a heavy breath.

Lying in the grass, his disheveled shirt exposed a happy trail of hair that led to snug grass-stained pants. She swallowed, a warmth unfurling beneath her hand,  her other extending to him. With a coordinated effort, he stands up, and they begin brushing off their clothes. 

“You sure you’re alright, Lucy?” Her dad asks, his concern evident in his brow. “It looked like you got hit pretty hard,” he threw a disgusted look at Cooper.

He rolls his eyes. Jesus... “I didn’t throw it that hard!” he snapped.

 

Lucy shifts her weight slightly. It was a bit hard… “He didn’t throw it that hard,” she echoed.

 

 Skeptical, Hanks' gaze shifts back and forth.

 

Lucy’s smile stays steady, but her eyes betray the strain.

 

He opens his mouth to press further, but Lucy’s patience snaps.

 

“Okay! Bye-bye, Daddy,” she blurts out, grabbing Cooper's hand and turning on her heel to lead him away from the lawn.

 

“But—” Hank starts.

 

“She said Bye, Daddy. ” Cooper cuts in, his hand gripping Lucy’s firmly as they stride away from her scowling father.

Focused on the road beneath her bare feet. She thinks between two worlds. Home?

 One in Vault 33 and the other with…

 

Something glints in the evening light, catching her eye—a silver circle lying in the middle of the road.

 She points.

Cooper’s attention is drawn to her pointer finger, where a wedding ring sits. Bewildered, he glances down at his own hand, seeing its twin on his trigger finger. 

A memory flashed in his mind, something he now realized was just part of the elaborate simulation around him. 

Cooper bought Lucy a ring that came a size too small. Without the money to fix the problem, Lucy lovingly wore it on her slightly skinnier pointer. He, in turn, moved his to match. 

 His thoughts were interrupted by Lucy's sharp jab at a… a trash lid? 

“Grab that,” she said.

 Cooper’s expression twists “Why?” Cleaning up after a stray lid wasn’t exactly high on his list of priorities.

 

"You need to return it to its bin," she tells him, memories of her vault community duties and the ingrained habits of a ‘good neighbor’ fueling her words.

 “No one cares,” he shrugged.  

Her wide eyes earnestly look away, a quirk of her lips down in an instant. 

An unfamiliar twerk kicks him in the gut. “Alright,” he finally sighs.

 

He releases her hand and strides toward the lid.

 

Lucy’s eyes light up, she watches as her usually gruff partner, who used to move with a reluctant grace, sways more confidently. Like he was more comfortable in his skin.  

 

He turns back, catching the soft smile on her lips. Her purple bagged eyes find his, the warmth radiating from her hold catching him off guard, and he feels a desire to grab her. 

He’d pick up a thousand lids for her.

 

---

 

Cooper ushers Lucy back to their house, his eyes constantly scanning the surroundings. 

He’d refused to answer her barrage of questions until they’d safely tucked themselves away from any potential inhabitants of the simulation.

Begrudgingly, she falls in step, while her own eyes dart around with nervous energy.

 

Once the door clicked shut behind them,  Lucy whirled around, her pent-up energy bursting forth.

 “What’s going on?” she demands, “I’m not wrong, right? The world... it ended, didn’t it?” Her words tumble out in a chaotic rush, her fragmented memories colliding with the present.

 

Cooper holds up his hands, his forehead creasing with deep lines. “Take it easy.”

 

Lucy paces back and forth. Quick and uneven, her steps created a staccato rhythm against the wooden floor. Tripping over the living room rug, she catches herself with an awkward skip, launching into her thoughts.

 

“A shared delusion? Ugh… Unless you’re not real. Maybe it’s some kind of… hologram? No, wait… a simulation!” Her voice rises, her eyes brightening as she latches onto the idea. “And my uncanny Cooper was just that!” 

She suddenly spins around. With a flourish, she raises her hand, her wedding-banded finger pointing dramatically toward the ceiling. “A-HA!”

 “Wha?!” Cooper stumbles back, Lucy quickly closes the gap between them, her face inches away as she fired questions.

 “I mean, where did you go? Did you escape? How many times have I figured it out? Is my Dad here? How—” 

Cooper raises his hands, “I’ll explain everything, but let’s try to stay calm. If you get too worked up, we might trigger something.”

 Lucy's lips stretch into a long, tight smile. “Please stop telling me to calm down.”

 

He wants to roll his eyes, but concedes to save time. “Honestly, you’re handling this better than I did.”

 

Lucy’s eyes flash as she performs an exaggerated nod. “Yeah, I know.”

 

He couldn’t suppress the instant smirk that tore over his face, “Yeah, must be real easy to notice everything with those headlights for eyes.”

 

Big brown eyes widened as she released a scoff, fighting a small smile. Crossing her arms tightly over her chest, she looks around the room. 

The room was decorated similarly to her childhood apartment, but with wallpaper and decorations instead of the stark blue vault steel. 

 The familiar yet foreign setting sends a shiver down her spine.  She swallows hard, the dryness in her throat making the motion uncomfortable. 

I want to go home.

 

 “How are we going to get out of here?” She whispered, her tearful eyes avoiding his person.

 

He freezes at her tone. She was being more vulnerable than he was accustomed to, both inside and outside the simulation. 

 He stepped forward, placing gentle hands on her arms, just above her tense grip.  

Lucy’s eyes meet his, the connection steadying his nerves. “Let’s catch up with each other first.”

 

---

 

Lucy paces on the other side of the coffee table, one hand poised on her chin, while the other pressed into her stomach, forcing the straight portion of her stiff posture. 

 

The dim light of the living room casts long shadows, making the space feel smaller, more confined.

 

Cooper sat on the edge of the couch, his elbows digging into his knees. He swallows nervously, his Adam's apple bobbing, “You’re taking this remarkably well,” he says, astonished by her composure as he lays out the details, carefully avoiding any mention of Jerry as his source. 

He also avoided discussing Barb and Janey. Until he knew more, the very conversation could bring up hope he didn't have to spare. 

 

Lucy nods, but her gaze avoids his. “Well… at least I’ve had some experience escaping organ traffickers,” she said with a nervous chuckle.

 

She glances at a twinkling lamp, struggling to corral her scattered thoughts.

 

Cooper arches an eyebrow at her mention of Super-Duper Mart. “Y-y-yeah,” he stammers, trying to gauge her thoughts. “About escaping… I was thinking maybe...they couldn’t watch us if we were… naked,” 

 

Lucy leaned back, her face crinkling in mild surprise. “Uh, that’s quite an assumption.”

 

Cooper scoffs, shaking his head. “You practically pulled ‘simulation’ outta your ass!” 

 

 She pursed her lips, raising her hands in defense. “I’m just saying, I don’t really see how you came to that conclusion… That’s all,” 

 

He rises from the worn couch with a groan, his posture shifting to one of authority. “Whatever. Would ya just listen to me?” 

 

She meets him head-on, biting back a smirk, “Yes, I’m listening,”

 

“I just really need you to trust me on this one.” He hates how his voice carried a note of desperation.

 

“Okie dokie,” Lucy responded, downturned and quiet, before her face twisted into an evil smile, “Let’s get naked and talk.” 

 

Her cheeky smile brought his attention to her lips. Fuck. This must be her wet dream.

 She watched his heavy lids rake across her face. His bottom lip caught under his teeth in the fleetingest of movements, bringing a fever across her body, leaving the cool bite of gooseflesh. She needed to get on top of him—no! —this. She needed to get on top of this.

 “But to be clear, I’m not interested in any hanky-panky,” she said, punctuating her words with air quotes.

 

Cooper’s stomach twists, heat flooding his face.  He’s quick to pinch the bridge of his nose, as  he spoke through gritted teeth, “I ain’t tryin’ to come on to ya,”

 

Lucy maintains her composure, lifting her shoulders in a casual shrug.  “It’s just not a good time—”

 

“Stop,” he pleads. But she persists.

 

“—And eventually, we should discuss our…” Her hand gestures subtly, “…intimacy, during our time here,” she finishes, her voice growing quieter as memories of their time together flood her mind. Let’s just say they were having an exceptionally long honeymoon phase. A faint blush crept up her neck, and she glanced away.

 

Cooper's face was full behind his hands now. “Oh, my GOD,” he groaned.

 Of course, she wouldn’t pretend to forget. The goddamn pain in my as—

 

Dropping his hands, he snapped his gaze back to Lucy, “Will you just get in the damn bedroom and strip?” he snapped, sweeping his hand in a gruff, point down the hall.

 

Lucy’s laughter bubbles up like spring water over smooth stones–Her hands quickly covered her mouth. The sound catching them both off guard. 

 

 

He watches her, his head tilting at the sight of her blushing at her own outburst. Before practically sprinting away. 

 

She glided down the softly lit hall, her giddiness gradually fading. For a fleeting moment, she forgot Cooper wasn’t her husband.

 

 

---

 

Lucy feels awkward.

 Nude—with her arms crossed tightly over her chest,  her bare feet sunk into the plush carpet.

 

Back to back, she and an equally naked Cooper stood in their quaint marital bedroom.

 

“So... we’re naked," she whispers. She arches an eyebrow in question, even though he can't see it.

 

Cooper tilts his head back, a grimace passing over his features. “Uhhh, a staff member told me that a ‘PG-13 setting’ keeps us from being watched while we’re naked.”

 

 “So they are monitoring us,” she states flatly.

 

“Apparently, the whole vault is,” Cooper said, scrunching his shoulders, “It’s a family affair.”

 

The mention of the whole vault makes Lucy’s skin crawl. She shrinks back, lightly bumping into Cooper. They could have seen them do so much. Her. So much.

 

Feeling the nudge, Cooper turned his head “You okay?” he asked over his shoulder.

 

Lucy’s wide eyes remain fixed ahead. “Y-yeah—just, keep talking,” she urges.

 

“My source says if you leave your pod too soon, you could have a heart attack.” 

As if on cue, Lucy felt her heart skip a beat. 

“So, I say we’ve got time to come up with a plan since we can’t leave right away—”

 

“What!? You think they’re telling the truth?” She boils over. “It could just be a scare tactic to keep us from trying to leave.” Her mind races with memories of Norm’s warnings about never leaving the vault. Suddenly, those tactics seem glaringly obvious.

 

 “Well, it’s still something to keep in mind!” Cooper snapped back.

 

“No! I think we just risk it and go. You said it yourself, we’ve already spent a year here—” Lucy was raising her voice with each word, but Cooper cut her off.

 

“I’m not risking your life!” he shouted.

 

Lucy wasn't fazed. “But it’s already at risk, so is yours! We—”

 

“Enough!” his voice bounced around the small space. She tensed, biting back her anger as she stared at the ground.

 

With Lucy quiet, Cooper continued, softer. “We wait. We watch. We scheme. Period.”

 

 The sting of fresh tears fills her eyes. She just wants to go home. Her heart feels heavy, like it’s being squeezed in a vice, and her voice quivers as she harshly addresses Cooper. 

“Why don’t you leave without me?” 

 

Cooper closed his eyes, the weight in her voice striking deeper than he wanted to admit. He breathed through his nose, the thought whispering through his mind, as it had countless times since the Red Rocket, since the Market, since the flowers: I could just leave her. It would be easier, less tangled.

 

But she was under his skin, lodged there long before a year of being hypnotized into believing they were married. 

 

His gaze drifted to the bed—their bed, his mind insisted—He was filled with memories that he knew to be fake, but 'Till death do us part' wouldn't quit its ringing in his ear. Sifting through their marriage, he finally remembered his original reason for having her around in the first place.

"I enjoy your company," he said, and— God— that had become more true than ever. 

 

Lucy’s cheeks flushed instantly, caught off guard by the unexpected intimacy woven into his tone. She bit her lip, trying to steady the flutter in her chest. “I enjoy your company, too,” she echoed.

 

Cooper looks down, a broad, almost goofy smile spreading across his lips. So that's that.

 

Trying to think of how to relax Lucy for the evening and maintain their privacy, Cooper comes to a realization. “Hey—”

 

“Hmm?” Lucy acknowledges.

 

Cooper rubbed his hands together. “Have you ever taken a bath ?” he asked. He recalls that in the vault apartments, showers were preferred to preserve water.

 

Lucy’s eyes widen at the question. She knew of baths, of course—reserved for the sickly, elderly, and infants. Older children and able-bodied adults were not permitted. “Uh, not since infancy,” she replied.

 

She senses movement behind her and glances slightly to her left, her eyes catching a fleeting glimpse of a perfectly rounded behind. Her head snaps forward, her cheeks burning with a sudden flush. Manufactured memories, hidden in the recesses of her mind, spark to life, bringing back the very intimate knowledge she has of his body.

 

“I’m going to draw you a bath. It will help you unwind, and it should still give you privacy,” he said, moving with purpose and speaking firmly.

 

Lucy's heart swells. “Can I come?” she asks hesitantly, not wanting to be alone anywhere in this simulation.

 

“Yeah,” Cooper responded, slightly surprised. He looks down, pondering how to move. “Umm, yeah, I’ll go first, then you enter with your back to me.” He stops to let out a small laugh. “You don’t want to see me bend down, and find my third eye looking back at ya.” 

 

Lucy rolls her eyes, her grin growing into a chuckle. “Alright, sounds like a plan.” 

 

They shuffle out of the room, still basically moving back-to-back, a playful agreement to maintain their modesty.  Despite the awkwardness of their position, there’s a growing ease between them.

The cool hardwood floor of the hallway creaks softly underfoot, marking their careful steps. As they reach the bathroom, the sensation shifts, the hardwood giving way to the cool tile. 

They close the door, maintaining every nuanced facade of privacy. Cooper steps further into the room and bends down to turn on the faucet, feeling a twinge of excitement at the prospect of using the luxuries this place offers. Maybe one day, I could join her–He shakes his head. 

 

Lucy faces away, her eyes wandering over the bathroom's features.  

She tries to avoid her reflection to the left, but curiosity wins out. Stealing a glance at the mirror, she becomes entranced by—

 

Her pupils dilate.

 

Cooper checks the water temperature, swishing it with his hand as the tub fills, the warm water swirling around his fingers. He stands up as the tub fills, the sound of roaring water comforts the room. 

His eyes linger on the limp curtain pushed aside. “Uh, I could stay in here, if you’d like. We could close the curtain for privacy?” he offers. 

Secretly, the thought of being alone unsettled him.

 

When met with silence, he turned his head slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of her in the mirror. A flash of color instead catches the corner of his eye. 

 

His neck snaps to the side.

 The shock of Lucy's vivid red lipstick against the reflective glass is like a slap to his senses as a message glares back at him.

 

“You really thought it would be that easy?”

 

Cooper’s eyes fell, dread settling deep in his chest. He turns fully to the statue-like figure facing the corner. 

His heart pounds as he approaches her. Grabbing her shoulders, he turns her. “Lucy?” 

 

She turns smoothly, meeting his observing eyes. “Is my bath ready?” Her smile is vacantly sweet.

 

Cooper’s heart sinks as he takes in every detail of her controlled face. No.

 

Lucy stands on her tiptoes and presses a kiss to his bottom lip. 

She pulls back, caressing his shoulders with her hands. “I have the best husband,” she says to herself.

 

Cooper’s eyes shut, fighting the bitter taste rising in his throat.

 

Unfazed by his turmoil, Lucy moves past him with robotic precision, stepping into her freshly drawn bath.

 

Chapter 12: That's the way the Cookie Crumbles

"No."

 

"Pretty please?" Lucy whined, clasping her hands together, pushing them against Cooper’s chest.

 

"Fine," he said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

 

Her eyes widened "Really?" she perked up.

 

"Never mind, changed my mind again," he said, watching with a perverse sense of satisfaction as her face fell, her bright eyes turning stormy once more.

 

"Ugh!" Lucy huffed, spinning on her heel and marching away.

 

Hank stepped up beside his daughter, giving her an affectionate squeeze, "Honey, he was never much of a singer anyway—"

 

"Hang on," Cooper cut in, eyes narrowing. "I’m a damn fine singer."

 

Hank shrugged, his gaze shifting to Lucy as if Cooper’s protest was nothing more than a mild inconvenience. "I remember differently," Hank replied, wrapping his arm a little tighter around Lucy, leading her toward the kitchen.

 

Cooper’s expression hardened. "I sang 'Payday' in Righteous Gemstones !" he yelled, as if that alone settled the argument.

 

Hank glanced back with an exaggerated eye roll. "One musical number doesn’t make you a singer."

 

Lucy’s pout deepened as Hank started pulling her into the kitchen. She cast a look over her shoulder at her husband. Her lips curled into a half-smile, though her eyes still brimmed with disappointment as she disappeared into the next room.

 

Cooper’s jaw tightened as he stared after them, his fingers twitching at his sides. Another day, another dumb contest of his will vs the simulation. 

 

The neighborhood talent show was coming up at the end of the week, and naturally, Lucy wanted to participate. 

Of course she did. She loved community participation, thrived on it. 

 

On one hand, it’s been a struggle—being here, noticing things others don’t, seeing through the thin veneer of this illusion. On the other hand, he showers every day, eats three full meals without rationing, and lives a life most wastelanders would kill for. 

 

Cooper moved to the kitchen, only to find the MacLeans huddled together, whispering conspiratorially. He shot them a wary glance. "You can’t scheme me into singing in some talent show."

 

Lucy turned, her face lighting up. "Actually, Daddy just reminded me—I’ve placed in the top three of every talent show I’ve ever been in. Alone. " She lifted her chin with pride, her competitive spirit flaring up.

 

Cooper headed to Hanks fridge, pulling out something he didn’t even need to eat. "How many talent shows have you been in?"

 

Before Hank could speak about Cooper's intrusion , Lucy interrupted, "We held one every year in the..." her eyes went blank, and Hank mirrored her, a glassy sheen clouding his expression.

 

Cooper’s stomach dropped. "Damn it," he muttered, snapping the fridge door shut.

He stepped toward Lucy and Hank, his fingers snapping close to their faces, I should’ve known better than to ask that kinda question, he thought.

Usually, he’d let Hank stew in moments like this, but Lucy’s lost expression always irked him.

 

Lucy blinked, her smile soft as she came back to the moment. He liked the way she looked at him when she came out of these spells, made him feel like he was actually saving her from something.

 

The sound of Hank clearing his throat snapped Cooper out of his thoughts. He realized he'd been staring at Lucy for too long. He forced his eyes past her, landing on the counter behind. Something yellow caught his attention—bananas. Fuckin’ A

 

Fruit was one of his favorite indulgences here. Cooper quickly moved past the MacLeans and grabbed the snack, peeling the banana as he turned toward Lucy. 

 

She felt a sudden pang of hurt as his attention shifted away from her so abruptly, But she masked it with a soft smile.

 

He took a big bite, “What’s your talent going to be?” he asked, speaking around the mouthful of banana.

 

Lucy blinked- breaking the fascination of seeing Cooper’s mouth envelop the banana. His cheek bulging out with the bite like a Sciuridae... 

 

Hank had been watching Cooper, too, his gaze unconsciously softening. But then he caught sight of Lucy, her eyes fixed on Cooper with the same intensity. An uneasy shudder rippled through him. He cleared his throat again, louder this time.

 

“Lucy, here is a triple threat,” Hank said proudly, “So it could be almost anything.”

 

Lucy blushed at her father’s words, a proud smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Cooper, however, smirked and waved the half-eaten banana in her direction. “Sorry sweetheart, but you can’t act to save your life.”

 

Lucy gasped,  “Yes, I can!” she protested, crossing her arms.

 

Cooper took another exaggerated bite of the banana, finishing it off,  “Then why are you such a bad liar?”

 

Lucy sputtered, “I’m not—I can—” 

 

Hank watched the exchange, Cooper moving closer to Lucy, slipping his arms around her in that way he did— And Lucy immediately melting.

 

Cooper pressed his forehead gently to hers. “It’s not a bad thing, darlin ’,” the last consonant dragged like velvet. “It’s one of the things I adore about you.” the low rumble of his voice sent a flush through Lucy’s body.

 

Lucy beamed up at him, all sunshine and warmth.

 

Hank, couldn’t take it anymore. He groaned,  “For the love of God, you two have a house! Please, depart to it!”

 

Lucy giggled, and Cooper shot Hank a smug grin over her head. — as expected, Hank took the bait, itching to kick them out. 

 

With an exaggerated wink at Hank, Cooper pulled back slightly from Lucy,  “Come on—why don’t you tell me all your ideas for the talent show while I whip us up two loaves of garlic bread?”

 

Lucy’s face lit up even more, if that was possible. “Okie-dokie!” she eagerly letting Cooper guide her through the kitchen walkway, her hands tucked in his.

 

As they made their exit, Lucy threw one last glance over her shoulder at Hank, “Bye, Daddy! See you tomorrow!” she called, her voice sing-song.

 

Hank stood there, watching them disappear down the hallway, a look of weary resignation mixed with mild disgust. He shook his head.

 

---

 

It was what constitutes as one week later in the simulation.

 

Sometimes Cooper would walk into a room to find his location has changed, that he's wearing different clothes, and Lucy acts like the conversation they just had a moment ago wasn’t about How Veronica, head of the talent show production hasn’t been slightly off putting to Lucy.

 

Now they were backstage at the auditorium, which had seemingly appeared out of nowhere "3 sim weeks earlier," adjacent to the neighborhood like it had always been there. Cooper moved through the dimly lit hallway, the cigarette hanging loosely from the corner of his mouth, the faint glow casting a warm orange light in the otherwise shadowy corridor. The smoke curled lazily from the tip, leaving a faint, drifting trail behind him as he navigated through the unfamiliar space.

 

The noise from the talent show seeped through the walls, muffled applause and the occasional burst of laughter filtering in, but Cooper was already tuning it out.

 

He stalked down the row of dressing rooms, straight for the one where Lucy was set up. Without bothering to knock, he pushed the door open, The smell of hairspray and perfume greeted him, mixing with the acrid scent of his cigarette as he leaned casually in the doorway. His eyes landed on Lucy, curled up on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her as she flipped through the only book he’s ever seen her read here. The Little Prince . Cooper’s eyes caught the title— by Antoine de... Saint— His attention shifted abruptly, yanked away by the unwelcome figure standing on a step stool, fiddling with a lightbulb above the mirror. Mitch.

 

“MITCH,” his voice cut through the quiet room like a whip.

 

The man flinched, almost dropping the bulb as he turned, Lucy’s gaze shot up from her book, startled by the outburst.

 

Mitch scrambled off the chair, looking down at the floor as he stammered, “I was just—just changing the bulb…”

 

Cooper didn’t wait for an explanation. He crossed the room, grabbing Mitch by the collar, and hauling him toward the door. “I don’t care what you’re doing,” Cooper growled through gritted teeth, “I told you—don’t talk to my wife.”

 

With one final shove, he tossed Mitch into the hall. He stumbled but managed to catch himself before calling back, “Good luck tonight, Lucy—”

 

The door slammed shut, cutting Mitch off mid-sentence.

 

Cooper turned, his body still brimming with annoyance. His eyes fell to the cigarette on the floor, knocked loose during the scuffle. He bent down, picked it up, and popped it back between his lips. His hands find their way to his hips as he looked at Lucy.

 

Without looking up, she muttered, “There’s no smoking in here.”

 

Cooper shrugged, strolling over to sit next to her on the couch, “Slap some cuffs on me then” he said, exhaling a plume of smoke.

 

Lucy closed her book, setting it aside with a disapproving look. “I asked Mitch to change the bulb. You shouldn’t punish him for something I did.”

 

Cooper took another drag, blowing the smoke out slowly before turning to face her, “Would you rather I punish you?”

 

Lucy flushed slightly, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the couch. “It’s not a crime to be nice—”

 

He pointed toward the door with his cigarette, “No, but being nice to him might lead to one.”

 

Lucy bit her lip, acknowledging the truth in his words with a small shrug. Mitch did tend to overstep boundaries

 

Cooper’s voice pulled her back. "Repeat after me."

 

Lucy raised an eyebrow, "Okie dokie..."

 

Cooper straightened up, his southern drawl thickening. "I don’t owe nobody nuthin’."

 

Lucy puffed up her chest, mimicking him, "I don’t owe nobody nuthin'!" her voice exaggerated and deep.

 

Cooper’s lips twitched, but he kept going. "Fuck bein’ polite."

 

Lucy’s eyes widened, her hands flying up to her face to hide her expression. "I’m not gonna say that!" she giggled, peeking at him from behind her fingers. "Being polite is—"

 

" Fuck bein’ polite," Cooper repeated, his voice lower, leaning in closer. His body shifted toward hers, and Lucy instinctively turned to face him head-on, flustered but refusing to back down.

 

Lucy leaned in, her voice soft, "You know I don’t use that word."

 

Cooper’s grin widened, memories surfacing of the times he’d coaxed that very word from her lips. That was before he was aware of the simulation, before he was off the  mind-numbing drug. "I... recall you sayin’ it a few times," he drawled, his smirk growing as he watched the blush creep up her neck.

 

Lucy bit her lip and pulled back, "I guess I’m just so out of practice," she murmured, looking wistfully away through the room. "My lips don’t know how to move like that anymore."

 

"Oh?" Cooper’s eyebrow arched, interest piqued. He took a final drag from his cigarette, savoring the smoke before putting it out on the bottom of his shoe. The last curl of smoke escapes from his lips. With a subtle shift, he turns to fully face her.

 

Lucy nodded, a pout forming on her lips. “Maybe you could… show me."

 

“Show you?” Cooper echoed, his brow raised slightly.

 

“Yeah," she continued, "You could hold your lips close to mine,-" She gently touched her lips, drawing his attention. "-and I can feel how they move... when you say the word.”

 

He licked his own, the temptation pulling at him. Kissing her had become unavoidable; turning down sex had been easier than resisting the casual kisses hello and goodbye. But kissing was harder to break out of once it started. This, though—this wasn’t a kiss. This was a well-justified teaching moment.

 

“Well..." Cooper began, his eyes shifting from the door back to her, “Wouldn’t want to miss the chance to equip you with a strong vocabulary."

 

Lucy nodded eagerly, scooting closer, her knees now spilling into his lap. "Exactly. I'd love it if you taught me... “

 

Cooper leaned in, hovering just an inch from her mouth. His lips brushed hers, teasing, "Repeat after me."

 

Lucy gave the barest of nods, her breath catching as his bottom lip brushed against hers, just before disappearing behind his teeth. Cooper let out the first sound, a quiet, deliberate “fff.”

 

As the sound left his lips, she noticed the lingering scent of tobacco on him—the smoky, leathery smell that always clung to him after a cigarette. Lucy, staying perfectly still, mimicked the sound “fff”,

 

Cooper warmed at the sound, his voice low and measured as he moved on to the next syllable. “Uhh,” his mouth opened just enough for the small grunt to slide out. Lucy, ever the attentive student, copied him, her lips grazing the side of his mouth in the process. “uhhh.”

 

A thrill ran through him as the heat between them simmered, each sound drawing them closer. Cooper clicked the back of his throat with the final, hard "KCK." Lucy’s face flushed as she completed the word, “Kck.”

 

“Fuck.” Cooper whispered, his lips grazing hers in a teasing, feather-light touch.

 

Lucy swayed her head softly from side to side, their lips brushing, before she echoed, “Fuhck," her voice sweet like honey.

 

A surge of heat coursed through Cooper as he leaned in, rubbing his nose alongside her face, "Say it again," he murmured. 

 

“Fuck,” Lucy repeated, giggling as Cooper pressed his face into the crook of her neck, his breath warm against her skin. His left knee pressed against her side, her hands moving to grip his head, pulling him back up by the hair. “Louder,” he demanded between them.

 

Lucy’s eyes twinkled as she shouted, “FUCK!”

 

Cooper grinned and leaned in to kiss, his hands slipping to her waist, thumbs tracing circles on her sides as their pressure deepened, she smelled like vanilla and her lips were so soft– Knock knock knock.

 

“Lucy? Are you there?” a female voice came from the hallway.

 

The couple pulled apart, looking toward the door, their shared sigh heavy with frustration.

 

“Fuck,” they said in unison.

 

Lucy patted Cooper on the shoulder, her lips curving into an apologetic smile as she stood and headed toward the door.

 

Cooper leaned back, exhaling through his nose. It was for the best, he told himself, though the heat still simmered under his skin.

 

Lucy opened the door to find Veronica clutching a clipboard looking sorry. “Hey lucy…I uh..I have bad news.”

 

Lucy's brow furrowed as she moved to allow Veronica entrance. “What's happened?”

 

Cooper noticed the way Veronica avoided his eyes, which was odd for her. She’s typically more headstrong and chatty.

 

Veronica looked at Lucy. “We’re running short for time and given your position on the list…we have to cut you.”

 

Lucy’s shoulders deflated.

 

Cooper stood up, his face hardening, “What the hell’s that mean, where’s the crowd gotta be?” Maybe for some sitcom drama that made sense, but he damn well knew everyone was just going to go home and stare at a wall before repeating their mundane-day . “The hell ya ain't got time!” he barked.

 

Just then Hank rounded the corner, he caught the tail end of the commotion. “Hey! I heard shouting. What’s going on?”

 

Veronica glanced between them, her brow furrowed in confusion, but Cooper was quick to cut in. “She’s cuttin’ Lucy’s performance."

 

“You bitch,” Hank spat.

 

“OKAY!” Lucy raised her voice, stepping quickly between the two men and aligning herself beside Veronica, her tone sharp as she tried to diffuse the rising tension. “I’m sorry about them,” she continued, trying to smooth things over. “Shakespeare’s Sonnets take two minutes, tops. If you include the time I’m on stage, maybe five minutes total. I don’t understand–”

 

Veronica, clearly rattled by Hank’s outburst, responded timidly. “I can maybe give you two and a half minutes.”

 

Cooper’s scowl deepened, his voice low and biting. “That’s such an insignificant difference. If you can squeeze out two and a half minutes—”

 

Lucy quickly cut him off, her hand pressing gently but firmly against his chest. “Thank you, Veronica. I’ll take the time you can give me.”

 

She forced a tight smile, doing her best to project calm. Meanwhile, Hank looked like he was gearing up to jump in again, but Lucy shot him a sharp, warning glance that made him think twice. He bit his tongue, for now.

 

Once Veronica was gone, Lucy turned back to face the two men. She let out a small sigh, her shoulders dropping in resignation, her eyes sad. Cooper’s gaze narrowed, still suspicious. “I don’t get it,” he muttered, rubbing his chin. “Just do your thing, however long it is. Veronica can try to yank you off with a hook if she’s so pressed for time.”

 

Hank rolled his eyes and snorted, “Veronica’ll probably kill the lights on you. You know how much she hates Shakespeare,” he added with a dismissive wave.

 

Lucy and Cooper exchanged a glance, both skeptical for different reasons.

 

“She said that?” Lucy asked, frowning. “Who hates Shakespeare?”

 

Cooper, however, wasn’t convinced Veronica even knew who Shakespeare was, considering the wastelanders in the simulation. The odds of Veronica being well-versed in literary history seemed slim. He opened his mouth to speak, but Hank got there first.

 

With a heavy, theatrical sigh, Hank turned to Lucy, voice dripping with exaggerated concern. “Lucy, it’s such a shame you don’t have the kind of husband who would step up for you in your time of need–”

 

Cooper’s scoff was instant, “You’ve gotta be shittin’ me,” 

 

Lucy chuckled nervously, “Daddy, he said he didn’t want to do it.”

 

“That was then, this is now,” Hank countered smoothly, turning his focus back to Cooper,  “How many times did you watch her practicing, see her putting in all that effort?”

 

Cooper shifted his weight, “She can still do it. Y’all are actin’ like Veronica can even tell time."

 

“I’m sure she can tell time,” Lucy muttered.

 

Hank, refusing to back down, leaned in with another dismissive scoff. “This is just fate. Let’s be real, Coop—you were being a little selfish by sayin’ no.”

 

Cooper opened his mouth, but Lucy beat him to it, “That’s not true,” she interjected, a fact-checker in real-time. Her eyes darted between her father and Cooper.

 

Her immediate defense of him caught Cooper off guard. There was something in the way she said it, so earnestly, so without hesitation, that it sent a flicker of something unfamiliar through him. But before he could latch onto that feeling, his mind was already miles away, buried in old doubts and unresolved anger.

 

He could feel a familiar anger, old and sour, boiling up from the pit of his stomach. I’m not a damn show pony. The idea of being told where to stand, how to pose, what to say—it all felt like chains being thrown over him again. His nostrils flared as he glanced at Lucy. At her Eyes.

 

He imagined Barb's eyes. Pose for Vault-Tec, Coop, she had said. She had known. She had known from the beginning what Vault-Tec was really doing, And yet she had let him perform, let him be their mascot. He had done it all for her, standing under those bright lights with that godforsaken smile.

 

He exhaled slowly, feeling the tension release just a bit as he looked at Lucy again. She wasn’t Barb. She wasn’t manipulating him, wasn’t setting him up to be laughed at or used. He knew that. Deep down its just a stupid fucking talent show.

 

Lucy’s face had shifted from soft to worry, she noticed his silence, the way his gaze had turned inward, and she stepped closer. She glanced toward her father, then back at Cooper, wondering if Hank had gone too far.

 

Hank, smug as ever, leaned against the doorframe with a self-satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

 

“Daddy, go. Please,” Lucy said firmly. She moved between them like a protective barrier “I’ll see you after the show.”

 

Hank gave a condescending glance over her shoulder, his smirk lingering as he stepped back, but Lucy wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of sticking around any longer. She closed the door behind him with a firm slam.

 

Cooper exhaled slowly, dragging a hand over his face as if wiping away the weight of old memories. His tired eyes found Lucy, softening as they focused. There was no wasteland here, no threats, no need to run. For the first time, he had to sit with his past, and it lingered like a shadow, always ready to stir.

 

Lucy wasn’t Barb. This wasn’t a trap, Lucy wasn’t trying to use him, and wasn't waiting to pull the rug out from under him. She was patient, bright-eyed, and sincere.

 

Lucy caught the subtle shift in him, She gave him a tentative smile, waiting. 

 

Cooper sighed, dropping his hands to his hips. “You want to sing the song?”

 

Lucy shook her head quickly, face flushing with apology. “I don’t want you to listen to anything my dad said.”

 

The corner of Cooper’s mouth twitched, “Most of the time I don’t,” 

 

She laughed, the sound like a weight lifting from the room.

 

“But...” he continued, his voice gruffer now, “you want to sing the song together...Why?”

 

Her brow furrowed in thought “It was a sort of....fantasy of mine growing up,” her voice full of shy honesty.

 

Cooper grew a grin. Her childhood crush was no longer news to him— After all, they were married. 

 

“You thought about dancing up on that stage with me, huh?” he pulled her closer, hands settling on her hips.

 

Lucy's lashes fluttered. “I thought about all kinds of dancing in regards to you,” she said.

 

He chuckled, his chest rumbling with the sound as he leaned down to capture her lips. Kiss for a song. Lucy met him halfway, her arms winding around his neck as their lips met in a slow, lingering kiss.

He finally pulls back, just enough to speak as his breath brushes against her lips, “What kinda husband would I be if I didn’t make my wife’s dreams come true?”

 

Lucy’s face lit up, her eyes sparkling like they held the whole damn sun in them, and Cooper knew right then—he’d do anything to keep her smiling like that.

 

---

 

The applause was polite, a modest ripple of appreciation as Lucy and Cooper finished their performance. Cooper waved briefly to the crowd, his face flushed, his heart racing from the unexpected rush. He hadn’t jumped around and moved like that in years. It felt...good. Fun, even. His muscles burned, his chest heaved for breath, but none of it mattered. 

 

As they stepped off the stage to meet Hank, Veronica took their place, congratulating the performers and calling the contestants back to the stage for the judges’ final votes. Lucy’s excitement only grew as she looked at Cooper, practically bouncing in place.

 

“Let’s go!” she whispered, her eyes wide with anticipation.

 

Cooper, still catching his breath, managed a smile, his face red and hot. He shook his head , “I’m good, sweetheart. Go on, get your trophy.”

 

Without hesitation, Lucy rose to her toes and kissed him softly on the cheek. Her touch was light, filled with warmth and affection. “Okie dokie—love you,” she trailed off, her voice a happy sing-song as she ran back toward the stage, eager to join the other contestants.

 

Cooper stood there, watching her with a rare smile tugging at his lips. 

 

Then Hank’s voice cut through the moment, a familiar edge lacing his words. "And you said you couldn’t be schemed into singing."

 

Cooper’s smile faltered. He turned slowly to face Hank, Son of a–

 

Hank, completely ignoring Cooper’s darkening expression, gazed fondly at Lucy, pride swelling in his eyes as he watched his daughter bounce on stage. “If my daughter wants her husband to sing and dance,” Hank mused, turning to Cooper, “my son-in-law is gonna sing and dance.”

 

Punch him. Just one clean hit to wipe that smug look off his face. Cooper’s fists clenched at his sides, Cooper gritted his teeth and forced his voice out “Did Lucy know?" 

 

Hank’s face softened, “Course not.” His sincerity was surprising, and he gave Cooper’s shoulder a firm slap, redirecting their attention back to the stage where Lucy stood, glowing with pride as she accepted first place. “You were right,” Hank added casually. “She’s a terrible liar.”

 

Relief washed over Cooper, calming the anger that had been building inside him. Lucy didn’t know— She couldn’t be a good liar because she just wasn’t one, and he appreciated that more than anything.

 

 

---

 

Day: Who the hell knows?  Cooper hasn't actually counted in a very long time. His mind was becoming a foggy haze of monotony. He sits rigidly on the living room couch, staring dissociatively into the room. The days tend to blur together. 

 

He stopped trying to make Lucy remember, each effort dissolving into the same futile stressor for her.

 

Every day feels like a twisted rerun of sitcom predictability, with Cooper the only one aware of the absurdity. The bizarre antics—from impromptu parades to random pie fights—are wearing him down. Trapped in a cycle of surreal events, unable to break free or find any semblance of normalcy.

 

Cooper can’t tell if there’s a mastermind behind the chaos or if the inhabitants are just naturally problematic and dramatic.

 

Mitch is a persistent peeping tom, lurking behind curtains and peeking through windows with an unsettling regularity, his eyes like dark, soulless voids. Veronica, their preachy neighbor, always delivers moral sermons, her high-pitched voice echoing like a broken record, grating on Cooper’s already frayed nerves. Benny, the sleazy salesman, has tried to sell Cooper the same broken vacuum six times, each pitch as oily and insincere as the last. And then there’s Hank—always Hank—injecting himself into their lives with a predictability that frays Cooper’s sanity. Hank, who shows up every. Damn. day, is the only thing that keeps Lucy’s hands off him.

 

Each evening, the sky darkens in the same sequence of colors, as if painted by an unimaginative artist. Leaving Cooper lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, knowing that tomorrow would bring no change, no relief. Lucy sleeps beside him every night, her breathing steady and peaceful, oblivious.

 

He’s tried everything to disrupt the pattern, to make a difference. But each attempt is met with the same result: a reset button that erases his efforts and leaves him back at square one, eroding his resolve.

 

Knock-knock-knock.

 

Cooper is jolted from his thoughts by the familiar sound. That would be Hank; his shoulders slump as the repetitive routine sets in.

 

“Cooper, can you get that?” Lucy’s voice calls from the kitchen.

 

Cooper rocks back and forth, his hands sliding over the rough fabric of his worn jeans. With a grunt, he pushes himself up, “This.is.hell ,” he mutters, as he trudges to the door, the floorboards groaning under his weight like even the house is fed up with this endless charade.

 

Cooper takes a deep breath, rolling his shoulders, before yanking the door open. Plastering on a strained smile, he greets the younger man.

 

“Haaank!” Cooper sings out, a wide, exaggerated grin stretching across his face.

 

Hank Maclean leans back,  “What’s this? What are you up to?” he asks, narrowing his eyes to try and see through Cooper.

 

The endless charade has worn him down. He’s long past caring—just wants to say whatever it takes to get through the day. Hit (X) and move on.

 

“I’m just happy to see ya. Lucy is in the kitchen,” he says, stepping aside to let Hank in.

 

“Okaaay,” Hank responds with a hesitant step inside. He dodges slightly, keeping his back away from Cooper, as he heads toward the kitchen.

 

Hank disappeared, leaving Cooper to shut the door behind him. Leaning his forehead against the cool wood, He closes his eyes, letting out a slow, weary breath.

 

The distant ticking of a clock fills the silence, reminding him of the time slipping away, each tick a nail in his standing coffin.

 

Cooper turns back to the couch, his body moving on autopilot. He drops onto the worn cushions, staring blankly at the old television set in the corner, its screen dark and lifeless. The familiar surroundings blur, his mind slipping back into the fog of the monotonous.

             

He lifts his hand, counting off silently with his fingers, “1…2…3,” he points toward the kitchen. “Cooper, come in here!” he murmurs in perfect sync with Lucy’s expected call. Yep, it’s a Hank episode.                                                                                       "Cooper, come in here!"

 

Cooper moves through the house at a zombie's pace, his socked feet dragging across the worn area carpet.

 

He stretches an arm up, gripping the top of the door frame for support. He leans heavily to the side, peering into the kitchen with a, resigned expression. “What’s it today, young Henry?” Cooper asks through a yawn.

 

The kitchen is filled with the warm aroma of Lucy’s baking, the scent almost mocking him with its cozy normalcy. Hank sits at the dining table, clutching a coffee mug, his posture too familiar for Cooper’s liking.

 

Lucy stands at the stove, her back to them. She moves to the counter, setting down a tray of freshly baked cookies with a forced cheerful smile. “I’m baking for Daddy’s Block Leader Campaign,” she chirps, her tone too bright.

 

Hank looks up, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Nothing you’d find interesting, Coop,” he says.

 

Cooper scrunches his face, straightening up. “Block leader?” his eyebrow raised. “We have a block leader?”

 

Lucy stays quiet, focused on boxing up cookies.

 

Hank takes a sharp sip of his coffee, clearly ready for Cooper’s challenge. “Not yet,” he says, standing and moving closer to Lucy, placing a hand on her shoulder. “But after today, with Lucy’s cookies and everyone’s vote... we will.”

 

Lucy turns, offering a small, tight-lipped smile. Hank continues, locking eyes with Cooper, “I’ll be in charge of the neighborhood activities and regulations.”

 

Cooper crosses his arms, shifting his weight to one side, “And you think everyone will like that?” he asks.

 

Hank’s smirk widens, his grip on Lucy tightening just a bit. “They will, once they see the improvements,” confidence oozes “Right, Lucy?”

 

Lucy turns around, wiping her hands on the apron at her waist. “Right!” she replies. Her gaze shifts to Cooper, and her stomach flips when she sees him studying her, his eyes sharp and probing.

 

Seeing Lucy’s forced smile, Cooper’s jaw clenches. He shifts his attention back to Hank,  “Who’re you running against?” he asks, already suspecting the answer. Veronica was the only other busybody he could think of.

 

“Nobody!” Hank declares, practically bouncing as he strides back to the dining room table. He leans on the table’s edge, taking a smug sip of his coffee. “That’s what makes it so sweet,” he adds.

 

Cooper glances back at Lucy, catching the way she’s staring off, her tight-lipped smile barely holding back the discontent simmering just below the surface.

 

Stepping into the kitchen, Cooper positions himself beside her, snapping her out of her daze. Her posture straightens.

 

Cooper addresses Hank again, “Let me get this straight. Nobody asked you to do this, and nobody’s running against you?”

 

Hank’s grin widens, his eyes gleaming “Exactly! It’s a done deal.” He takes another sip of coffee, savoring the moment like it’s some grand victory. “And let’s be honest, nobody else in the neighborhood is really cut out for this,” he adds, rolling his shoulders.

 

Cooper catches the flicker of gratitude in Lucy’s eyes as she glances at him, before quickly looking away. He watches her hands move mechanically as she finishes boxing up the cookies.

 

Seeing Lucy like this, something clicks in Cooper’s mind. He’s seen her take charge before, seen the fire in her that Hank seems to smother with his overbearing presence. 

 

“Lucy could,” Cooper says, He glances at her, catching the surprise in her wide eyes. She wasn’t expecting that, and frankly, neither was he until the moment the words left his mouth. But now that he’s said it, he realizes he means it.

 

Cooper enjoys the days when he can nudge Lucy into scheming against her father. She won’t allow anything too mischievous—just harmless pranks like swapping salt for sugar or rearranging Hank’s furniture. But beating him in a campaign? That would be a victory that cuts deep.

 

“Me?” Lucy breathes, her fingers freezing mid-motion.

 

“Her?” Hank scoffs.

 

Cooper watches as a flicker stirs behind Lucy's eyes—He steps closer, voice low, "Yeah, you." His hand brushes the small of her back "You actually care about people. You’d make one hell of a leader.” 

 

Lucy’s brow furrows as she turns the idea over in her mind. A hint of a real smile starts to pull at the corners of her lips.

 

Hank’s mockery deepens “And what makes you think she could handle it?” 

 

Lucy turns sharply, meeting her father’s gaze head-on, “Why not me?” she said.

 

Hank raises his hands, a weak attempt at placation. “What I mean is, Lucy doesn’t know how to address a crowd,” he says.

 

Lucy’s cheeks flush with anger as her father talks about her like she’s not even in the room. She plants a hand on her hip, “Actually, I agree with Cooper,” she asserts, “I think I’d excel as a Block Leader.” She finishes with a confident nod.

 

She glances up at Cooper and he gives her a firm nod of approval. Hank watches their exchange, his lips thinning in irritation as he sees the two of them standing united. He breaks the moment with a pointed cough. “Surely you have better things to do, sweetheart,” Hank says, tilting his head with a patronizing smile. “And I’m sure I’ll be a grandfather soon?” He lifts his coffee cup in a mock toast towards the couple, a gleam of expectation in his eyes. “Hmm?”

 

The insinuation lands like a cold slap, and Cooper feels a rush of heat flood his face. The mention of having a baby with Lucy hits him harder than he could’ve imagined, the idea almost unthinkable with Janey still out there, a shadow hanging over everything. He swallows hard, his throat tight, eyes flicking to Lucy, searching for her reaction.

 

His mind races through fragmented memories of their simulated marriage—long talks, shared silences, small domestic routines—but one thing had always been absent. They’d never talked about children. Not once. The topic had hovered just outside the edge of their conversations, an unspoken agreement between them. It was almost as if neither dared to bring it up, as though acknowledging it might lead to something neither wants.

 

And now, the thought of it—the weight of being wrong—left a dry, uncomfortable lump in his throat.

 

Lucy’s smile wavers, the color draining from her cheeks as her father’s comment sinks in. “Cooper and I aren’t planning on having children,” she says, her voice steady and smooth.

 

Cooper turns shocked, feeling his own tension rise alongside hers. He notices the way her jaw tightens just a fraction. When she shuts down the topic so decisively, he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, a wave of relief washing over him. Thank God.

 

“What!?” Hank’s voice rises, Standing abruptly. Neither Cooper nor Lucy flinch, Cooper’s gaze hardens, while Lucy’s chin lifts slightly.

 

“Lucy, please don’t let him bully you into not having kids just because he already has a daughter,” Hank says, his words a sharp jab.

 

A trickle of confusion slides down Lucy’s spine.

 

He has a daughter?

 

Lucy pushes aside the fuzzy feeling in the back of her mind, forcing herself to focus on the present. “It’s just not something we’re thinking about,” she says, turning to Cooper, looking for his backing.

 

Cooper’s grin is conspiratorial, as he drapes an arm around her shoulders. Lucy leans into him, her hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm. He gives her a reassuring squeeze, “Exactly,” he agrees.

 

Hank takes another step toward Lucy, his hands outstretched in a pleading gesture. “Lucy, you can have fun now, but just remember you are how we continue the Maclean name,” reminding her of her supposed genetic duty.

 

The urge to slap Hank is overwhelming. 

 

Confusion is written all over her features. “Daddy, what about Norm?” she asks.

 

Hank leans back, “Oh,” he says, looking away, “I forgot about Norm.”

 

Cooper rolled his eyes, a gruff guffaw escaping his lips- “How do you forget about your own son?” he asks.

 

Hank’s eyes dart back, “Well, he’s very small,” he says, attempting to joke. 

 

Lucy’s lips press into a thin line, a quiet, simmering anger building inside her. It’s time for him to leave.

 

Lucy claps her hands briskly, “Well, Daddy,” she begins sweetly, “Looks like you’ll have to make your own cookies. I’ll be needing these for my campaign.” A big grin spreads across her face.

 

Hank looked at her trying to avoid glaring at Cooper, “Very well, sweetie. Good luck. I won't go easy on you. You’ll need to develop some thick skin if you want to be in charge,” he said, his advice laced with ‘concern ’ . His hard gaze shifts to his Son-in-law “Coop. As always…” he paused. Cooper held his stare. “Anyway,” Hank continued, his tone shifting. “I'll see you later today at the block party. The results will be announced on stage… in front of everyone,” he added, emphasizing the last part with a hint of challenge.

 

“Sounds great,” Lucy smiled.

 

Hank nodded, his bait being tossed aside “Okay, well, I better go figure out how to use the oven,” he said with a chuckle. When nobody reacted, he continued, “Just kidding,” he added, rubbing his hands together awkwardly. “I know how to use the oven.”

 

Lucy’s smile grew even brighter, “Good-Bye, Daddy,” she said smoothly.

 

Hank lingered for a moment longer, Before turning to leave the kitchen. Just as Cooper started to relax, he felt a sharp pinch on his side.  Ouch! Bitc- He flinched, twitching in her hold. “Eh, bye, Hank. May the best Maclean win,” Cooper states.

 

Hank pauses briefly in the doorway, his back stiffening before he silently continued out of sight.

---

 

Cooper's eyes track Hank from a distance as he takes the opposite route to Lucy’s door-to-door campaign. He jokes with Benny across the street, his shoulders relaxed, Benny’s boisterous laughter echoes, confirming Hank’s humor landed.

 

Whether Hank is part of the simulation or not has always been a question mark for Cooper.  I sincerely fucking hope not, One less person to get out of here. Even though Lucy’s got her issues with the man, Cooper doubts she’d leave him behind to be someone else’s problem.

 

His intense stare breaks as Lucy skips up to him from the house on his left, her light footsteps barely stirring the dust on the sidewalk. She lands in front of him, the box of cookies in her hands thudding softly. “Veronica said I could count on her vote!” she beams, her eyes sparkling in the sunlight.

 

Cooper smirks. “I’m sure she said a lot more than that.” He lifts the lid of the box slightly, sneaking a hand inside. The rich scent of freshly baked cookies wafts up, mingling with the warm afternoon air. 

 

Lucy stands still while he steals a cookie, nodding. “Yeah, there was a whole speech about how voting is just a structured popularity contest, blah blah blah.”

 

Cooper closes the lid. They begin walking down the sun-dappled sidewalk as he takes a bite, savoring the sweet, crumbly texture. The food is the one of the good things about this place, Speaking with his mouth half-full, “But she said she’d vote for you. So, was it worth the loss of an ear?”

 

Lucy laughs, the sound light and musical, blending with the rustle of distant leaves. “Definitely. So, after all that, Mitch is the only one left! I’ve spoken to everyone else—ooh!” She’s cut off as Cooper presses the other half of his cookie to her lips. She opens up, taking a bite.

 

Crumbs fall as he pulls the rest away to fill his own mouth. “We’re skipping Mitch.”

 

“But—” Lucy tries to cut in, her words muffled by the cookie, but Cooper continues.

 

“Nah, no buts. If you can’t win without that cockroach’s vote, you don’t deserve the win.”

 

Lucy swallows, pouting, her big eyes pleading. But Cooper just smirks, shaking his head. “Not gonna work,” he says. “Besides, you’ll get every other vote around here. Don’t you worry.”

 

Lucy lets out a small sigh of defeat, though she moves in closer, tucking an arm into his. “You really think I could be a good leader?” she asks.

 

The feel of her pressed to his side sends a pang through him. The closeness is dangerously comforting, making it hard to remember she’s not fully in control right now. He swallows and replies gruffly, “I’d follow you anywhere.”

 

Lucy’s cheeks flush a deep crimson, her shy smile growing as she absently tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

 

“Hey!”

 

They stop and turn to see Hank parting ways with Benny and jogging across the street.

 

They tighten their locked arms as Hank stops in front of them, slightly out of breath. “Hey, Lucy,” he says, forcing a smile. “How’s the campaign going? Everyone I’ve talked to says you’ve been real cute about it.”

 

Cooper rolls his eyes, making sure Hank catches it.

 

Hank chuckles, casting an affectionate look at his daughter. “And I told them, ‘I know, I know, she gets it from me,’” he finishes, eyes twinkling with self-satisfaction.

 

Cooper tightens his grip on Lucy’s arm slightly, irritation simmering just beneath the surface. He forces himself to stay silent, resisting the urge to snap back.

 

Lucy smiles, her eyes flicking to Cooper before she responds. “Thanks, Daddy. I’m doing my best,” she says.

 

Hank’s gaze lingers on their interlocked arms before Lucy, clears her throat and disentangles herself. Cooper lets her go without a word, subtly adjusting his stance. Lucy lifts the lid of the box, offering her father a cookie. “Daddy, would you like one?” she asks.

 

Hank steps closer, his eyes gleaming with a mix of hunger and curiosity. “Oh yes! I was hoping you’d have some left over,” he says, reaching in to grab one. “Seeing as I didn’t get to have any earlier,” he adds, shooting a sly look at Cooper.

 

Cooper raises an eyebrow, but keeps his mouth shut, his expression hardening. Just let it go.

 

Lucy studies her father's face, a flicker of nerves in her eyes. “We’re headed home; there's more if you want—” she starts, 

 

Hank gently cuts her off, “Oh no, sugarplum, I need to get home myself, get ready for this evening. Just a tip: you’ll want to prepare a thank-you speech beforehand. It’s best to be prepared, even with the results up in the air.”

 

Lucy forces a more earnest smile. “Oh, I actually didn’t think about that. Thank you,” she says.

 

“Of course, darling. I want to help you succeed. But, if you don’t mind, I’d like to speak to Cooper alone for a moment,” Hank finishes, his face twisting into a pleading expression.

 

Lucy looks up at Cooper, whose steady gaze hasn’t wavered since Hank’s approach. “Oh, sure, I’ll meet you back at home… honey,” she says softly.

 

Cooper nods, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze as she begins to walk away. “I’ll be home in a minute,” he says.

 

She nods back, glancing once more at her father before setting off toward home. The two men watch her walk away, the tension between them palpable.

 

As soon as she’s out of earshot, Hank’s friendly demeanor drops. His eyes narrow, voice low and angry. “I don’t appreciate you influencing Lucy’s thoughts about family,” he says, stepping closer.

 

Cooper doesn’t move as Hank invades his space, Hank looms over him by 2 inches. But Cooper stands his ground, lifting his chin defiantly to meet Hank's gaze head-on. “I haven’t done anything. And if I did, it’s between me and her,” 

 

Hank’s jaw tightens, his voice a low hiss. “Lucy’s always been committed to our family values, and you show up and—”

 

“Show up? You mean marry her?” Cooper snaps, momentarily forgetting the falseness of their ‘marriage.’ His fists clench at his sides, his frustration bubbling over.

 

Hank’s lips curling into a sneer. “Yes, marry her,” he bites out. “You think I was thrilled about my daughter marrying some washed-up actor? And now you’re filling her head with ideas that go against everything she’s been taught? Do you even understand the impact you’re having?”

 

Cooper’s eyes flash “I’m giving her a choice,” he retorts, each word deliberate and pointed. “A chance to think for herself.”

 

Hank’s nostrils flare as he steps even closer, his chest brushing against Cooper’s. “You think you know what’s best for her?” his voice trembling with barely suppressed rage. “You think you can just waltz in and change everything?”

 

Cooper leans in, his voice dropping to a low, menacing whisper just inches from Hank’s face. “ Yes .”

 

Hank’s fists clench at his sides, his knuckles white as he struggles to maintain control. “You have no idea who you’re messing with,” he hisses, With a final glare, he turns on his heel and stalks off toward his house.

 

Cooper remains where he is, watching Hank’s retreating figure, He shakes his head, a bitter thought echoing in his mind. Fucking prick.

 

---

 

The sun dips low on the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the bustling block party. Even the recluses, those rarely seen outside their homes, have ventured out, their faces lit with a mix of curiosity and obligation. Engaging with them feels like wading through molasses, each conversation as tedious as listening to stereo instructions read aloud.

 

Behind the stage, away from the throng, Cooper leans against the thick navy blue curtain, the fabric cool and rough against his back. He indulges in another cigarette from the pack, the sharp scent of tobacco mingling with the evening air. The smoke curls around him, a comforting shroud that momentarily blurs the reality of his surroundings.

 

His thoughts drift as he takes a deep drag, the embers glowing brightly before dimming. Were things like the stage conjured by mere thought, or were they constructed from lines of code?

 

The stage, like everything else needed to set a scene in this fabricated world, would likely vanish by tomorrow, leaving no trace of its existence. The thought is both fascinating and disconcerting, the impermanence of it all gnawing at him. He flicks the ash from his cigarette, watching it fall to the ground and scatter.

 

Cooper’s fingers twitch as he brings the cigarette to his lips again, the physical act grounding him in habit. He feels the savory slight sting of the smoke in his lungs, the taste bitter and familiar.

 

A shuffling noise grabs his attention, He sees Lucy sprinting towards him, her excitement palpable even from a distance. He quickly tosses the cigarette to the ground, crushing the ember underfoot with a swift twist of his boot. The scent of smoke still clung to the air as she approached.

 

“Honey! I really think I’ve got this in the bag!” Lucy voice is breathless. She stops just in front of him, her cheeks flushed with both the run and her enthusiasm.

 

Before Cooper could react, Lucy was on her toes, her soft red lips pressing against his smoke flavored ones. Her sudden kiss was a burst of warmth against the cool evening air, her passion a stark contrast to the lingering bitterness of tobacco. His eyes fluttered closed as he exhaled deeply through his nose, Cooper leaned down, meeting her in a brief battle of strength and tenderness. His hands found her waist, feeling the slight rise and fall of her breath beneath his fingers. Stop, The sounds of the bustling block party faded into the background, replaced by the rhythmic beat of his heart and the soft, almost inaudible sigh that escapes Lucy’s lips. Her hair, slightly tousled from the sprint, brushes against his cheek, adding a tickling sensation that make him smile inwardly.

 

Respecting her autonomy has been a daily struggle. Each day, this captivating woman, who claims to be his wife, would employ her most cunning charms to seduce him. And each day, Cooper plays the role of the ‘good guy’ and resists. Yet, occasionally, she managed to steal a kiss—a small concession for his mounting frustration.

 

This time, he didn’t have to play the good guy as Lucy pulls away with a satisfied moan slipping from her lips, She giggled at the sight of her red lipstick now marking his lips.

 

The setting sun cast a warm glow on her flushed cheeks, her wide eyes sparkling with excitement. “Have you voted?” she asked.

 

Cooper’s lips remained slightly parted as his eyes fluttered open, “Not yet. Point me to the booth?” he replied.

 

Lucy placed her hands on his forearms, gently guiding him to turn around and move from behind the stage. “It’s that yellow tent over there,” she says, pointing with a graceful lift of her hand. “Daddy and I aren’t allowed in while the voting is happening.” Her voice carried a blend of excitement and authority. “Hurry back, and you can give me a pre-celebratory prize,” her hands slide along his flanks.

 

Cooper’s body hummed at her touch, The idea of heavy petting flickered in his mind, a tempting possibility. They had taken their relationship to that level- No, he told himself, then reconsidered. Yes…Maybe.

 

He shakes his head to clear the pointless thoughts. “Alright, darlin’, you’ve got a deal,” he said with a grin. He moved forward, feeling Lucy’s playful energy as she moved in sync with his steps, she swung a hard slap to his ass.

 

Cooper yelped. A surprised laugh escaping his lips. He glances over his shoulder to see Lucy grinning from ear to ear.

 

He focuses forward and navigates through the crowd, the partygoers a blur of color and movement. The voting was closing soon, and he had timed his approach perfectly, waiting until the line dwindled to nothing. The murmurs of conversation and bursts of laughter faded behind him as he neared the tent.

 

With a swift motion, Cooper pushed aside the flap of the yellow tent and stepped into the orange-glowing interior. The sudden change in light made him squint momentarily. The room was warm and dimly lit, the glow casting long shadows that danced on the fabric walls.

 

Inside, Cooper’s eyes fell on another occupant. Hank stood by the ballot box, hurriedly stuffing a large number of papers into it. 

 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” His voice slices through the quiet, startling Hank. The other man spins around, mirroring the same deer-in-the-headlights look that his daughter often wore.

 

Hank's hands froze mid-motion, a crumpled ballot slips from his grasp fluttering to the ground in a telling display. The orange light highlighted the beads of sweat on his forehead, his usually composed demeanor was now shattered. His mouth opens and closes wordlessly.

 

Hank gives a forced smile. “Coop! You came to vote a little too late. I was just collecting the votes,” he said.

 

Cooper advances, “Yeah, and I bet you’re replacing the ones you’ve ‘collected, ’” he stops, Arms crossed over his chest, Young Henry’s a cheat too, He wonders if Hank has any redeeming qualities.

 

Hank mirrors Cooper’s stance, “What are you accusing me of?” he snapped.

 

Cooper stepped closer, his eyes narrowing, “I’m saying you’re a lying cheat,” he guffed “And I’m going to tell Lucy.”

 

Hank’s forced smile stays unbothered, “Like she would believe you over me,” his attempt to sound confident fails with the quiver in his tone.

 

Cooper raised his eyebrow, “Really?” he challenged, “I guess we’ll see.” He shrugged with a deliberate nonchalance and turned away.

 

Barely three steps away, a sudden, pain explodes at the back of his head. His vision erupted with bright stars, a blinding kaleidoscope that sent him to his knees. Another hit forces him flat to the floor. His hand shoots to the back of his head, fingers coming away wet with blood.

 

Gasping, Cooper rolls over, Scrambling backward, the rough texture of the tent floor scraping against his palms. His heart pounding in his ears, each beat reverberating through his skull.

 

Hank approached, looming above him, a dark silhouette against the dim glow of the tent's interior. In his hands, he gripped a shovel, its metal edge smeared with blood. The man's eyes wild and unhinged. 

 

“What the fuck!?” Cooper shouts, “Where the hell did you get a shovel!?”  His face twists in a confused grimace.

 

Hank advances slowly, his face contorted with a fierce, almost manic anger. “You’re right, Coop. She probably wouldn’t believe me. And honestly, I’m sick and tired of that.”

 

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, He raises his free hand toward Hank, a futile shield against the impending attack. His vision swims from the throbbing pain coming from his open head.

 

Hank lifts the shovel with a willful force, metal point down, aiming to dive deep into Cooper’s chest.

 

---

 

 

Lucy's eyes lingered on the spot where he had vanished. 

 

The crowd buzzed with laughter and conversation, the vibrant tapestry of life woven together by shared moments and familiar faces. 

 

A wave of joy surged through her as she took in the scene. The sight of people coming together, their smiles and camaraderie, ignited a spark within her. It reminded her of the cherished memories from her childhood, when community gatherings had been a cornerstone of her life. 

 

Cooper’s suggestion that she could be in charge of such events resonated deeply. It was more than just a passing comment; it was a seed of inspiration that took root in her heart. As she stood there, surrounded by the warmth of the community, a sense of purpose blossomed within her.

 

She envisioned herself organizing these gatherings, bringing people together, fostering a sense of unity and belonging. The thought of facilitating such joy filled her with a profound sense of fulfillment.

 

The lanterns flickered more, casting a soft glow that mirrored the newfound light in her eyes. She could help make this place a beacon of happiness and peace, a sanctuary where everyone felt safe and valued . The weight of this realization settled on her shoulders, but instead of feeling burdened, she felt uplifted, ready to embrace the challenge.

 

I could lead, the words echoing in her mind with a clear clarity and conviction that had been absent for a while. Lucy smiled, The night was alive with potential.

 

Her attention was caught by a bright blue and yellow butterfly fluttering delicately in front of her. She gave a shy smile, dodging the little creature as it circled her head, its wings shimmering in the soft light.

 

“Follow me,” came a tiny, ethereal voice, barely audible over the din of the crowd.

 

Lucy turned sharply, confusion knitting her brows. Where did the voice come from?

 

“Follow me,” the voice repeated, more insistent this time.

 

Lucy's eyes widened in astonishment as she focused on the butterfly.  “Did—did you just talk?” Her voice was barely more than a quiet squeak.

 

The butterfly hovered in front of her, its wings moving in a gentle, rhythmic pattern. “Follow me,” it repeated clearly, its voice surprisingly resonant for such a small thing. With a graceful flutter, it moves past her face, heading toward the yellow tent.

 

The butterfly's ethereal glow cast a dreamlike haze over everything, making her surroundings feel surreal and otherworldly. She feels a strange compulsion, as if the butterfly's command had woven a spell around her.

 

Follow it.

 

Lucy moves through the crowd, weaving between people who paid her no mind. The colors around her, blurring with the swirling trance.

 

The butterfly flys to the entrance of the yellow tent, its delicate wings barely brushing the fabric. It Burst into a cloud of shimmering dust, the particles dancing in the air like tiny stars.

 

An unsettling stillness settled over the party. 

 

The lively chatter of the gathering seemed to fade into a haunting quiet, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

 

Lucy feels a creeping sense of dread that whispers of something terribly wrong. 

 

She moves the curtain, finding her father standing with his arms extended over his head. A tight grip on a shovel with tense, trembling hands. His face was flushed red, his eyes cast downward.

 

Her gaze followed his.

 

Cooper lay on the ground, his right hand pressed against the back of his head, trying to stem the flow of blood. His left hand was outstretched, fingers splayed in a plea.

 

Her chest tightened, a cold, paralyzing fear overwhelming within her. 

 

In slow motion, she watched as determination moved through her father, bringing a wave of stamina that ripped through her silence with a desperate, gut-wrenching plea, “NO!”

 

A sharp, jarring sound of metal striking through flesh resounded through the tent. The shovel's tip buried into Cooper's chest like a violent exclamation mark of finality. 

 

---

 

Cooper felt the familiar, disorienting sensation of being torn apart and reassembled.

 

The world around him came into focus in fragmented pieces, the sensation of the goo still clinging to his skin like a second, unwanted layer. The air was thick with a metallic tang, mingling with the residual taste of the hose. Each breath was a battle, his chest heaving as he fought to steady himself, his eyes wide and searching in the dim light.

 

He hadn't expected Hank to try and kill him. Jesus Christ, the guy has problems, The violent jolt of being murdered and ejected from the simulation had caught him off guard.

 

The pod hissed and clicked around him, Cooper pressed himself against the cooling, slick walls. He braces himself, muscles tense and ready, his senses on high alert.

 

A sharp hiss signaled the pod door opening. The remaining goo sloshed out, cascading over the edge of the pod. Cooper rode the wave, his legs wobbling as he struggled to stay upright, the pounding in his head intensifying with each second.

 

Cooper staggered forward, his knees buckling under the strain. He hit the cold floor hard, the impact jarring his bones. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself up, his muscles protesting with every movement. Get up. Forcing himself to stand, his eyes scan the dimly lit vault room, taking in the rows of pods shrouded in shadows.

 

He stumbled to the nearest pod, pressing his face against the glass, trying to peer inside. His breath fogged the surface, further obscuring his view. Nothing, biting his lip as he moved from pod to pod.

 

Then, his gaze landed on it—the computer, its screen casting a faint, eerie glow in the darkness. The very device his captors had used. His heart raced as he made his way toward it, the faint hum of the machine growing louder in his ears. His fingers trembled slightly as he reached out.

 

Powering on the computer, he found what appeared to be a master list of names labeled under 'Inventory.' His fingers flew across the keyboard as he typed in Maclean, mimicking what he had seen before. A window popped up with three options:

 

How would you like to proceed?

Terminate - Eject - Reboot    

 

Cooper quickly chooses Eject, a thrill running through him at the simplicity of it. “About damn time something goes my way,” he muttered under his breath, his eyes locked on the screen, waiting for the command to take effect.

 

The computer whirred to life, its mechanical sounds blending with the pounding of his heart. Each second felt like an eternity, the tension in the room palpable. Finally, the screen flashed a confirmation message, and Cooper allowed himself a small, triumphant smile.

 

A green loading bar moved across the screen, followed by a loud hiss and steam escaping from a nearby pod. Cooper's heart raced as he rushed over. He reached out, as the pod door swung open, he was jolted by the unexpected heaviness. Dread washed over him as he strained to support the bulkier, unwelcome presence of Hank Maclean.

 

Cooper’s eyes widened “No, no, no!” he muttered, Hank’s eyes were covered in a slick layer of goo, his head thrashing as he choked out in a dry rasp. “I can’t see! I- I can’t-” Cooper, harshly pushed him off his lap onto the hard metal grid floor.

 

Ignoring Hank’s groans of pain, Cooper rushed back to the computer, his mind racing. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” He typed Maclean again—nothing but Hank’s pod came up. He typed Lucy —nothing. Howard —only his own pod appeared. Frustration clawed at him as he rubbed his face, flakes of dried goo falling away. How do I find her?

 

“I can’t see!” Hank’s voice cut through the silence, each word a struggle as he coughed and sputtered. Cooper gritted his teeth, feeling a begrudging sense of responsibility.

 

He moved back to the wriggling man and crouched down beside him, “Hold still,” he ordered, roughly dragging his thumbs over Hank's eyes. Hank’s breath came in ragged gasps, as he tried to steady himself on the ground.

 

Cooper’s breath caught in his throat as he took in Hank’s condition. Though both arms were pressed tightly against his chest, Hank appeared to be a hand short.  

 

Well, He’s all right now, He notes the healed stump where Hank’s left hand should have been.

 

Hank’s vision clears, his eyes locking onto Cooper’s real face, a mixture of fear and recognition flashing across his features. “W-What happened? Where are we?” Hank’s voice wavered, rough from lack of use.

 

“Uhh...” Cooper started, he swallowed struggling to find the right words. “Never mind the who, what, where. Im’a need you to stand.”

 

Using strength he didn't have anymore, forcing a shaky Hank onto his feet. 

 

Hank stood trembling, his arms moving away from his chest. Finally catching a glance at his hand’s-hand , his eyes widening in horror. He sucks in a breath--Cooper’s hand clamped firmly over his mouth.

 

Hank makes a muffled pained sound from behind Cooper’s hand, the warmth of his breath seeping through Cooper’s palm. “Shhh, shhh, shush. There'll be time for that,” Cooper whispered, his eyes locking onto Hank’s blazing manic desperation stare. “We have to find Lucy.”

 

Hank’s eyes darted around wildly before finally settling on Cooper’s, filled with a mix of fear and confusion. Slowly, recognition dawned in Hank’s eyes, and he gave a hesitant nod.

 

Cooper released his hand from Hank’s mouth and turned away, gesturing for Hank to follow. Their movements were slow and unsteady as they made their way toward the vault doors. 

 

Chapter 13: Reasons why

Notes:

Hello! thank you, thank you to everyone following along leaving kudos and comments. It's the inspiration to keep going. Please enjoy!

Trigger warning for dubious science/medical content

“But I don’t want to get married,”  the words are barely able to escape her lips. Her typically lively brown eyes now turn in desperation, her brows furrowing in a mute appeal for understanding.

 

Her father’s face briefly twitched, a fleeting crack in his composed mask. Before he forced a smile.

 

Panicked, Lucy rushed to clarify, “I mean, I—I’m not ready.”

 

Hank's face softened as he moved to sit down beside his daughter on the mustard-yellow couch. The color seemed almost too bright, an unsettling contrast to the heavy conversation. Lucy's eyes drifted around the room, where echoes of laughter from her birthday party still lingered, haunting her with their distant cheer. The lively moments from fifteen minutes ago now felt like a distant dream.

 

Lucy had briefly wondered about Betty’s parting words, “Good luck,” before her father abruptly mentioned it was time to consider one of the Vault's marriage programs. Her thoughts replayed in a disjointed loop, the vibrant colors and sounds of the party clashing with the somber reality of her father's words.

 

Hank's arms wrapped around her, the embrace tight like a silken leash, jolting her back to the present. His voice, deceptively cheerful, aimed to ease his daughter's worries. “Don’t worry, sugarplum! You have until you’re twenty-seven to apply for a marriage program,” he said.

 

Lucy felt a slight relief at the information. Twenty-seven—that is ages away. But regardless, her stomach flipped at the idea. Norm was almost eighteen; she looked forward to trading her role as his caretaker for a focus on her studies. Her upper lip, slightly longer than her bottom, quivered as she tried to process the situation.

 

“What happens if I don't get married before twenty-seven?” she asked. Betty didn’t have children. She came from Vault 31 for an overseer mentorship. Perhaps Lucy could do the same. She’d have to change vaults, of course. That’s how they rotated new minds.

 

“You’ll have failed at serving your duty to the vault,” Hank said sadly, as if the very notion pained him deeply. As though she was at risk of committing some unspeakable act.

 

I would never put the vault in jeopardy– She spoke earnestly, her words tumbling out in a rush to reassure him. “I promise I will always do what's best for the vault,” she said, her perfectly centered lips forming the words with heartfelt urgency.

 

Hank studied her face intently. He suddenly beamed at his daughter and pulled her into a tight embrace. Lucy stiffened at the sudden move.

As she nestled against him, a sense of dread seeped into her consciousness, tainting the tender moment with an eerie premonition,

His voice was a whisper. “I know you will.”

 

---

 

Now, in the dim yellow glow of the tent, the scent of old canvas and earth mixing with her rising panic, Lucy’s hand flies to her chest. Her large, brown eyes burn with unshed tears as she stares at the man who has orchestrated her fate.

 

Hank's eyes lock onto his daughter. “Lucy,” he says, stepping forward–

 

Lucy recoils, her back colliding with the wall of the tent. Her chestnut hair clings to her forehead, slick with sweat, as her breathing grows more erratic.

 

Cooper's smile flashes in her mind, The subtle way he purses his lips, is a language all its own, signaling his thoughts five seconds before he speaks.

 

Her father’s face blurs over Coopers as tears well up, the emotional scars he’s inflicted reopening, raw and bleeding. Her lips tremble, sharp fingers digging into her flesh as if trying to hold herself together.

 

I didn’t want this, her thoughts repeat, a desperate litany. I never wanted any of this.

 

Hank presses on, his voice trembling. “Lucy, I had no choice. He came at me when I caught him stuffing the ballot box.”

 

Lucy’s eyes sting as she desperately avoids the sight of Cooper's form. 

 

Her breaths come in ragged, shallow gasps. He killed him. He killed him. He kille— Just like he killed Mom.

 

The tent closes in, Her legs tremble, on the verge of collapsing beneath her.

 

Her father's betrayal reopens a wound, one she had buried deep. Images of the father she idolized flash before her eyes, each memory a page she turns with numb fingers. His warm smiles now feel hollow, his evasive answers more sinister. She sees him clearly, scrutinizing every detail—did he ever hesitate to lie? To take things from her?

 

Her nails dig into her skin, leaving crescent-shaped indentations on her arms. The image of Cooper’s bloodied body sears into her mind, forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut, desperately trying to block out the sight. 

 

She can't breathe.

 

Her mind races, a torrent of fear and sorrow crashing through her, overwhelming her senses. 

 

Go back, go back, go back, Her thoughts scream at the impossible reality. Go back, go —   A sharp, searing pain pierces the base of her skull.

 

Pain wraps around her like a dark cocoon, slipping her into a dull numbness that provides relief to her broken heart.

 

She struggles to gulp down air, feeling as if a heavy stone is wedged in her throat.

 

What’s happening? Her consciousness is a whirlwind–Questions surge, unanswerable and relentless.

 

It’s as though her eyelids are sealed with lead, trapping her in a void. Every part of her body aches, down to the marrow.

 

Lucy wiggles, feeling warmth recede from the crown of her head. The liquid slips beneath her eye line, creating tiny ripples that lap gently at her face. Her sluggish arms fumble upwards to grasp the foreign object protruding from her mouth.

 

Her fingers explore the unfamiliar shape, She ceases her inspection of the facehugger and reaches forward, encountering a smooth surface directly in front of her. Glass? she runs her fingertips along the surface. 

 

She spreads her arms in a slow, sweeping motion, Tracing the curve of the device encasing her, awareness dawns. Cylinder... Pod…GET OUT, Cooper’s warm voice echoes in her mind, clear and urgent.

 

Memories of him surge, flooding her mind and momentarily overpowering her current reality. His voice, his face, his warnings—they all converge, filling her thoughts beyond those of her husband. 

 

I’m out of the simulation– The reality of her freedom feels both exhilarating and terrifying.

 

Her fingers tighten around the edges of the pod, grounding herself in the tangible world. The cool metal and smooth glass are real, solid, undeniable proof of her escape. 

 

Lucy brings her hands back to the device suctioned to her face– Breathing tube

 

With careful force, she pulls the mask away. Mindful. The initial release of the suction creates a soft, popping sound. The tube sliding out of her throat is strange, almost surreal, but not entirely unpleasant.

 

As the end of the nozzle grazes her uvula, she suppresses a gag, the reflexive urge to retch sending a shiver down her spine. Her nose wrinkles in discomfort, her throat constricting. She pauses, taking a slow, measured breath through her nose.

 

One eye pops open, granting her a blurred glimpse of her feet where the remaining goo is disappearing through a grate. She moves to clear her other eye. 

 

A loud hiss echoes through the chamber as the wall in front of Lucy begins to lift. The remaining wires clinging to her body release their grip, and she tumbles out of the pod.

 

She hits the floor with a hard thud. A heavy breath escapes her lips as her mind spins with disorienting images and fragmented memories. 

 

Slowly, Lucy lifts her head, The room is stark and clinical, brighter than anything Cooper had ever described. 

Her head sways, and she winces against the harsh light. Her brain feels dry.

 

Lazily scanning her surroundings, she notices only one pod– Hmmmm. Cooper had mentioned rows of machines.

 

Her room feels more like a cold, sterile lab than a mechanical hub. A gurney looms just two feet ahead. Her gaze drifts to the shelves lining the walls. Her throat goes dry. Preserved fetuses float in embalming fluid. Some are mutated, their forms twisted and aberrant. It's unclear if they died of natural causes or were part of some grim experiment.

 

Lucy’s gut twists. They harvest more than organs. She forces herself to breathe, the sterile, antiseptic air mixed with sweaty goo burning her lungs. She wiggles her toes, her face contorting with each sharp pain that shoots through her limbs. She persists, examining her fingers next.  1,2,3,4,5…1,2,3,4–Everything is accounted for. A fragile sigh of relief escapes her lips, her eyes closing momentarily in gratitude.

 

Her eyes snap open as she briefly considers the evidence that might not be visible. Gingerly, she scans her side for any signs of kidney removal or other major incisions. Good – relieved to find her skin unmarked, she rubs away the thin layers of dried goo, feeling the gritty residue fall away.

 

Clad in a bra and small shorts, Lucy mutters a small prayer of thanks for her decency being preserved, even if just barely. Her gaze flicks back to the shelf of fetuses. Reproductive Organs?

 

A dawning realization hits her, and she freezes. Slowly, she lifts the waistband of her shorts and peers beneath. Is that?

 

She quickly lets the fabric snap back against her skin, the sound sharp in the sterile silence. Taking a deep breath through her nose, she nods absently, her cheeks hollow.

 

The duty to continue the MacLean name and bear children for the sake of perpetuating America had always been a known and encouraged practice in the vault. Theoretically, Lucy understood and even supported the idea. But when the time came for her to fulfill this expectation, she found herself hesitating. Conversations with Steph about raising kids together filled her with doubt. Each time her father asked when she and Cooper would start a family, her uncertainty grew.

 

Now, faced with the grotesque images before her, the suffocating weight of expectations, and the undeniable reality of her own body, she faltered once again. Her eyes dropped to the floor between her legs.

 

Her vision blurs, and the room darkens at the edges. She feels herself fading, losing herself into the background of her own life.

 

How did she end up here? She had left her home, the sanctuary it provided. Sanctuary built on lies,

 

Responsibilities weighed on her, each one an unending link in a heavy chain. She remembered the days before Cooper, when her life was a monotonous cycle of suffocating expectations and hollow routines. Her father's overbearing presence, with his relentless reminders of duty and sacrifice, loomed large. What’s the point of escaping if there’s no place to go?

 

Her heart ached.

 

Thou shalt get sidetracked by bullshit every goddamn time. His blunt words cut through her downward thoughts.

 

She trembles at the image of Cooper with a shovel protruding from his chest flashes before her, blood pooling like it had struck oil.

 

Lucy pulls herself into an upright fetal position, wrapping her arms tightly around her legs, pressing them to her chest. She buries her face in her knees.

 

---

 

They lay side by side in their marital bed, Cooper's right hand interlocked with Lucy's left. She lazily turned their joined hands, using them to shield her eyes from the harsh overhead light. Her bottom lip held a slight, permanent pout. Cooper had declined sex again, citing that he wasn’t feeling well. He hadn’t been feeling well for a while. A part of her wanted to believe he’d lost interest in her, that the spark had faded. But the way he clung to her side after each rejection told a different story.

 

“How ‘bout you hold my hand?” he’d say.

 

Lucy studied their intertwined hands, her smaller, delicate fingers enveloped by his rugged, calloused ones. The sight brought a bittersweet smile to her lips. She lowered their hands back down between them, feeling the familiar rustle as Cooper turned his head to look at her. She mirrored his motion, meeting his gaze. His eyes, usually so full of life, now searched hers, looking for something she couldn’t quite grasp.

 

"I love you," she breathed.

 

He frowned.

 

---

 

Lucy lifts her head from her knees, her eyes brimming with tears, and she sniffles, trying to hold back the snot. A wave of embarrassment washes over her as she remembers how she had clung to Cooper, treating him like her husband.

 

Your pity party ain’t helping either of us right now. Cooper’s voice echoes in her mind, a distant but firm reprimand. She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, taking a deep, shaky breath. 

 

She began to move.

 

Rising on shaky legs, Lucy takes a tentative step toward the gurney. After two more faltering steps, her legs buckle. She reaches out desperately, trying to catch herself on the metal table. Her lunge sends the table skidding sideways and her crashing to the floor. The contents clatter to the ground in a cacophony of metal. Her lips part as she tries to stifle a cry.

 

The swift sound of a door echoes through the room.

 

Of course, Rolling her eyes, Muscles taut, she searches for a place to hide. She spots a counter with a hidden side and crawls toward it. She grabs a fallen scalpel, feeling it's cold reassurance in her hand.

 

Hands tucked to her chest, her nostrils flare. Each breath feels like a betrayal, threatening to give away her position. Her mind races with possible escape plans, each one discarded as quickly as it forms.

 

Footsteps inch closer.

 

“Oh God–she's out! Sound the alarm!”

 

Lucy’s eyes dart to the far wall, spotting a typical Vault-Tec alarm system. She’s seen plenty of them. The urgency spikes as rushed steps approach her hiding spot, heading for the alarm.

She kicks her legs out from their tucked position, tripping the running figure. He stumbles awkwardly, his head colliding with the corner of a table with a sickening thud.

 

“Carl!” 

 

Lucy lunges towards the unconscious man, every muscle screaming in protest. With a trembling hand, she presses the scalpel to his throat, The effort is immense, her entire being rebelling against the action.

 

“Stop!” Lucy commands in a rough whisper.

 

The approaching woman freezes, hands raising in surrender. “Lucy."

 

“Let me go, or… I’ll kill him,” Lucy stammers.

 

The woman takes a step closer.

 

Lucy presses the scalpel harder, drawing a thin line of crimson.

 

The sight makes the lab tech halt immediately, her face turning ashen.

 

“You’re not a killer, Lucy."

 

Lucy shakes her head. “You would risk his life to prove that?” 

 

She remained silent, taking another step forward.

 

“Don’t,” Lucy warns again, “I don’t want to hurt anyone.” 

 

Her expression softens. “It’s okay,” she says, “Everything will be okay.” She takes a cautious step closer.

 

“S-stop,” Lucy stammers, a wave of nausea washing over her. Her vision blurs, heart pounding erratically. She’s pushed herself too far.

 

“It’s going to be okay,” the tech repeats.

 

In a sudden burst of motion, she bolts, attempting to leap over the unconscious man and Lucy.

 

Lucy reacts, swinging her arm with the scalpel in hand. The blade slices through the woman's calf, eliciting a sharp hiss. She staggers, momentum broken.

 

Seizing the opportunity, Lucy lunges, wrapping her arms around her opponent's legs. They crash to the ground, the impact jarring. They scramble while Lucy struggles to match the healthy woman’s strength. 

 

The tech’s nails rake across Lucy’s shoulder, sharp enough to draw blood. Lucy gasps, a strangled cry escaping her lips as the pain flares, intense and immediate. Lucy shifts tactics, thrusting the scalpel into the lab tech’s shoulder with all her might.

 

The tech screams. Without hesitation, Lucy clamps her hand over her opponent’s mouth, muffling the cries.

 

The fight is far from over. Her resistance doesn’t wane. Lucy’s fingers twist in the woman's hair. “Stop! Please!” she cried.

 

With quick upward movement, Lucy slams her opponent’s head against the floor.

 

The lab tech falters, her eyes rolling back from the pain. Lucy lifts her head again, repeating the same motion.

 

The second hit brings the woman’s arms down. Lucy’s grip lessens slightly before the lab tech's hand slowly raises again.

 

Lucy grimaces, lifting one more time.

 

The final slam leaves her opponent unconscious.

 

Lucy feels the dampness in the woman’s hair, the sensation pulling her back into harsh reality. She staggers backward, disbelief swirling in her mind. She raises her hands to her face.

 

The blood staining Lucy's fingers brings back the image of a gray shirt marred by a dark, expanding blot. Numbly, she holds her right hand in her left, inspecting her gray index finger now dyed red— brought to life with a vibrant flush of his color. She vividly recalls how her finger was meticulously grafted onto Cooper’s right hand. She often caught him staring at it, her finger tapping rhythmically as if its presence was a melody he couldn’t resist.

 

 A groan came from the man. 

Lucy leaned forward to check the woman’s pulse, The faint throb of the woman’s heartbeat under her fingers brings a fleeting sense of relief. She’s alive , She lets out a shaky sigh.

 

Her eyes, still glistening with unshed tears, look distant, as if the intensity of the past moments has drained her of feeling.

 

Lucy unzipped the top of the women's jumpsuit–The familiar fabric offered a small, fleeting sense of security as she quickly dressed herself, the worn material hugging her form like a protective shell.

 

She took a moment to steady herself before draping the lab coat back over the unconscious woman.

 

Fully dressed, she scanned the room, her eyes sharp and assessing. The unconscious man’s lab coat caught her eye. She approached him, his body lying face down on the cold floor. With careful movements, she slid the coat off his arms, the fabric rustling softly. She slipped it on, the weight of the fabric settling around her shoulders like a mantle of borrowed authority. She slid one key card into each pocket, gripping them tightly in her palms. The thin edges dug painfully into her skin as she assessed the room further.

 

Spotting some gauze, Lucy makes her way to a small mirror hanging on the left wall. Her reflection stares back at her, The harsh lighting accentuates the dark circles under her eyes, making her look almost hollow. Streaks of dried blood and goo mar her skin, creating a grotesque mask that clings to her features.

 

Lucy tugged down the shoulder of her jumpsuit, exposing the skin beneath. Her fingers trembled slightly as she pressed the alcohol-soaked gauze against the scratch. She expected a sting, but—nothing. Her hand stilled, eyes narrowing at the smooth, unmarked skin. No blood, no scratch, no sign of the woman's nails. Her chest rose with a quiet breath, the tension she hadn't realized she was holding slowly slipping away, leaving only a faint buzz of relief in its place.

 

Her mind struggled to reconcile the intense pain with the lack of visible injury.

 

She presses the gauze against her shoulder again, more firmly this time, almost as if expecting a delayed reaction. But the skin remains smooth and unbroken, the alcohol cool and slightly stinging against her unblemished flesh. Did I imagine it?

 

A soft groan escapes the man. Lucy glances at the two figures on the ground—one bleeding from a gash, the other lying in a slowly spreading pool of blood. Her eyes flick to the exit, I’ve already been here too long.

 

Hesitation grips her. She looks from the door to the injured pair and back again.

 

With anxious energy, Lucy rushed to the unconscious duo, Her movements were frantic as she grabbed the gauze. She sloppily wrapped it around each head, the white fabric quickly turning crimson. Her fingers fumbled with the bandages, slipping against the blood and sweat. 

 

Every second feels like an eternity slipping away. She casts a quick glance at the exit, her mind racing. She crouches down, her fingers working quickly to untie the man's shoelaces. The rough fabric cuts into her palms as she pulls the laces free, the sharp edges biting into her skin. 

 

With a determined grunt, she carefully lifted the man and the woman, positioning them back to back. Their bodies sagged heavily against each other, making the task all the more difficult.

 

Lucy loops the shoelaces around their waists, She pulls them tight. Sweat drips down her forehead, stinging her eyes. She can almost hear Cooper's sarcastic drawl, By all means, take your time

 

Lucy ties the final knot, her fingers aching from the effort. Standing up, she wipes her hands on her jumpsuit, smearing the fabric with streaks of blood and grime. Taking a deep breath, she reaches down to pick up the discarded scalpel. The metal feels cool and solid against her skin, a reassuring weight as she tests its balance in her hand.

 

She takes one final look at the room, her eyes sweeping over the unconscious figures and the makeshift bindings. Her heart pounds in her chest, each beat a relentless drum of urgency. Turning to the door panel on the wall, her fingers tremble as she presses the release button. The reinforced door slides up with a swift mechanical motion.

 

As the door opened, the dim light from the hallway spilled into the room, casting long shadows that danced across the floor. Lucy barely had time to react before she was confronted by two figures standing in the faint glow. Her eyes widened in shock, her breath catching in her throat. Instinctively, she tightened her grip on the scalpel.

 

“Lucy, stop!” one of them commands, holding up a hand. “We’re here to help you.”

 

She hesitates, her brow furrowing as her eyes dart between them. “Who are you?” she demands.

 

“We sent the butterfly,” the other replied quickly, his tone quick and reassuring. “I’m Jerry and this is Rick. We’re currently in the middle of a coup and we were assigned to release you as a distraction.”

 

Rick’s hand shoots to his head, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Subtlety, Jerry, ever heard of it?” he mutters through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. “You don’t need to tell her everything.” Jerry rolled his eyes.

 

Lucy ignores their banter. “A- A coup? From the ‘Goo Facility?’” she asks, recalling the unsettling name used by the man Cooper spoke to. 

 

Rick began to answer, “Why don’t you read about it in our history book when it’s ov—”

 

Jerry interrupts him. “ –Kind of. Dr. Glension is our Overseer. He took over about 15 years ago, and... well, as you can see, some of us are fed up with the practices around here.”

 

“You’re overthrowing him?” Lucy’s voice blends disbelief and curiosity.

 

Jerry nods, his expression serious. “Yes. And your escape is part of a series of deliberate actions we’re taking to make that happen.”

 

Rick lets out an exasperated sigh, motioning impatiently to hurry things along. He shoots a frustrated glance at Jerry. “Look, we don’t have much time. Follow us, and Jerry can share more of our ‘confidential information’ as we go.”

 

Jerry’s urgency seems to deflate as he fixes his gaze on Lucy. “How did you get those clothes?” 

 

Her eyes widen as she realizes the bundle Jerry is carrying was meant for her. “Oh, umm...” she shifts uncomfortably in her ill-fitting shoes.

 

Rick and Jerry’s eyes flick past her into the room she just exited. Two hunched figures, propped up by each other’s opposing weight, remain silent in the background.

 

Rick raises an eyebrow, “Resourceful,” he mutters.

 

Lucy glances back at the two unconscious figures, her eyes clouded with guilt.

 

She swallows the urge to be skeptical. Nodding slowly, Lucy regains their attention “Can you take me to Cooper?” 

 

At the mention of the ghoul’s name, Jerry glances at his counterpart, panic flashing in his eyes. The gruffer of the two's face twists with obvious distaste. Jerry’s voice wavers. “I don’t want to say no… But it's not up to us. We were only told to get you—”

 

Rick cuts in, “I won’t fetch a monster.”

 

Lucy’s face scrunches, her mouth poised to deliver a sharp retort.

 

Jerry leans forward, his gestures placating. “Please, we need to go. Not everything in our resistance is 100% agreed upon . But Right now, the coup is the focus and your safety is important.”

 

The other gives a strong, firm nod.

 

Dammit , She really had no choice; it wasn't like she could say “No thank you,” shake their hands, and part ways. The situation left her cornered.

 

Taking a deep breath, she weighed her options. Cooper’s safety, her own survival—it all depended on moving forward, however reluctantly.

 

“Okie dokie,” she rushed out before she could think herself farther away from Yes .

Chapter 14: Rise, Fall, Repeat

Summary:

Please enjoy! It is a sad one.

From the moment they set off down the corridor, A creeping unease slithered through Lucy. Her fevered mind dulled the edges of her thoughts, You're in danger. Her companions avoided her eyes, hesitated before they spoke—something was being kept from her. 

 

What choice do I have? The path of least resistance beckoned: Just go along, survive this. She clung to that simple plan, one she felt Cooper would commend her for. Don’t think about Cooper right now.

 

Each step vibrated through the metal floor and into her bones. Rick's heavy boots thudded, Jerry moved quietly. 

 

Lucy's over sized Vault-Tec suit stuck to her clammy skin, trapping the feverish heat that drained her strength. Her senses felt sharp, almost painfully so. Pressing in around her, were the unmistakable odors of her companions—Jerry's sour sweat mingling with Rick's earthy musk.

 

They rounded a bend. The vault's emergency staircase loomed ahead, spiraling into the darkness above. Jerry paused, turning to look at her. "Sorry, but...you're going to have to climb," His eyes filled with a quiet apology, nodding toward the daunting stairs.

 

Heart sinking she gave a heavy exhale, "How many floors?" she asked, though she knew the answer wouldn’t change anything.

 

Rick, who'd been lingering behind, delivered a firm slap to her back. It was meant to be encouraging, but it only stoked the irritation simmering just beneath her skin. "Only seven," he replied with a laugh. "We’ve got to avoid the lift—stay under the radar."

 

Lucy gave a weak nod. Resistance seemed almost laughable now. Feeling like lead in boots, she straightened her shoulders, "Okie dokie," she croaked.

 

---

 

In the icy corridor, Cooper and Hank crept forward, the metal floor pressing uncomfortably against their bare feet. Their modesty was saved by tight shorts, but the crust of dried goo only intensified the cold. Relentless shivers went through Hank's body, His teeth chattering softly as he hugged himself.  In contrast, Cooper seemed to radiate an unnatural heat, wisps of steam curling from his skin in an eerie dance. Cooper’s ghostly warmth barely tempered the deep cold that pervaded the hall. For Hank, it offered little comfort.

 

Involuntarily, Hanks eyes were drawn to the landscape of Cooper’s back. Shadows played across deep crevices spiraling around his torso, resembling an intricately peeled orange. He counted the quarter-sized lesions freckling the ghoul's back—one, two, three—until he reached eight. His gaze fell to the scars encircling Cooper’s right calf and left thigh, neat lines that spoke of precision. Lower still, he noted a jagged scar on Cooper's mismatched right foot, a rough terrain of hastily healed flesh. A knot of unease tightened in Hank’s gut, but he pushed it aside, fixing his gaze on the corridor and forcing his thoughts to follow.

 

Reaching a junction, the path forked—left or right?  Cooper narrowed his eyes as he scanned each shadowy passage. The weak yellow bulbs overhead flickered, casting more shadows than light.

 

"We should go left," Hank said. He fidgeted, looking behind himself.

 

 "Oh? And you figured that out how, exactly?" Cooper said with a side-glance.

 

Hank rolled his eyes, "I'm a high-ranking Vault-Tec employee. I’ve been an overseer for over 15 years. I know my way around a..." He pauses, eyeing the ominous corridor. "...Class C Vault."

 

 "So why am I playing scout?" He snapped. 

 

Hank shrugs, "Better you get shot before me."

 

Cooper gave a low chuckle, stepping closer, "Funny." he stated.

 

Without warning, Cooper’s hand flew to Hank’s neck, yanking him forward. "Just lead the damn way," he gritted.

 

Hank stumbled but quickly settled into his new position. Cooper's eye'd the corridor seeing Hank grip his left wrist, curling his arms protectively against his chest. 

 

Cooper raised his right arm. He lingering on the band-like scar encircling it—my deepest. A pulse of anger stirred as he thought back to the close call with Don Pedro, the lingering fear of almost losing the limb forever still gnawing at him.

 

“Mmm, sorry about your hand,” he said, He is partly sorry—not particularly about who it happened to, but regretful that it happened at all.

 

Hank rolls his eyes, the subtle shake of his head catching Cooper's attention. “Fuck you,” Hank muttered, assuming Cooper to be provoking him. “I don't need your mock sympathy,” he spits, casting a glance over his shoulder.

 

Cooper lets out a low chuckle, lazily lifting his hands in surrender. "No sympathy here... Just stating the obvious—it sucks to lose parts of yourself, doesn't it?" 

 

At another fork in the corridor and Hank pauses. Glancing left then right before choosing the left again. Without turning to face Cooper, "I just hope they haven't done anything to Lucy." He sounds guilty—

 

Cooper squints, his expression hard. "They've definitely done something to Lucy; the Doctor made that crystal clear." 

 

Hank spun around to face him, "Was it Dr. Glension?" he asked, concern written all over his features.

 

Cooper lunged forward with startling speed, pinning Hank against the wall. "You know more than you're letting on," he accused, his breath hot against Hank's cheek.

 

Hank turned his head away from Cooper’s unsettling proximity. The ghoul’s face, so close...made Hank's stomach churn. He swallows hard, "I—I may have falsified her medical records when she was young," his voice trembled then... "They’ve likely uncovered that by now."

 

Cooper pushed his forearm hard against Hank’s chest. "Keep talking," he demanded.

 

Hank deflates. "Lucy was... is the first generation of women from our vault with a radiation-filtering uterus—" Cooper’s brow furrowed, and Hank quickly added, "If I had to guess, we’re in Vault 97 now, where they gather data and run experiments for Vault-Tec. The modern-day Vault-Tec... which is still under Barb’s command," 

 

Cooper releases him taking a step back. Emotions role beneath the surface. Vindication, yes, but something deeper—excitement laced with anxiety? He had suspected Barb was still alive; Gension had hinted at it. But now, hearing it from Hank, the truth hit harder, more real. He whirls his attention back to Hank, "How did she manage to survive all these years? Janey—"

 

Hank interrupts, "I thought you were worried about Lucy?" He gives Cooper a weak shove, the force barely registering due to his missing hand. Cooper steps forward, shoving him back—harder. The two stumble into each other, their awkward clash more a tangle of limbs than a fight, teetering on the edge of farce.

 

“Enough!" Cooper raised a hand, his frustration palpable. "Just... tell me everything." he pleaded.

 

Hank’s nostrils flare "Vault-Tec had plans to breed people resistant to radiation, but over the last two centuries, Barb's requests grew increasingly urgent—erratic and demanding. By the time I awoke, it was already decreed that anyone capable of bearing radiation-resistant offspring would be transferred to Vault 96 for testing," His eyes lock with Cooper’s. “I didn't want to say goodbye to my little girl, I knew that her kids, and even more so her grandkids would possess even greater capabilities; so I lied. Now?...Now I'm sure they’ll have taken that away from her.” Hank’s looked away in pain.

 

Cooper bit the inside of his cheek. His mind a storm of questions, all crashing against the same relentless thought: What about Janey? He turned away sharply. His jaw clenched so hard it ached.

---

Sugarfoot had collapsed, her breathing labored and uneven. She barely managed to catch herself in time, allowing her passengers to slide off safely.

 

"Daddy, what's wrong with her?" Janey whimpered. Cooper clutched her close, his own body racked with the same creeping illness that was sapping the life from their loyal horse.

 

Sugarfoot lets out a pained neigh. Her eyes flutter shut from sheer, utter, exhaustion. His face twisted, fighting back tears that threatened to spill—tears of fatigue, of fear. "She's just tired, baby, That's all" his voice cracked "She—she can’t keep carrying us anymore."

 

But the truth was far grimmer. Sugarfoot was dying, and Cooper could feel the same creeping death gnawing at his door.

 

To reach Barb, they had ventured too close to where the bombs had fallen, and now the price was being exacted. Kneeling beside Sugarfoot, He places a trembling hand- rough fingers, against her weary face. Her once-bright eyes were now dull and half-lidded, her breath coming in slow, ragged gasps that rattled in her chest. "I’m so sorry," he whispered, His thumb stroked the soft fur along her muzzle. Sugarfoot’s nostrils flared, and a faint, pained whinny escaped her—a sound that was more a whimper than the proud calls she used to make. Cooper’s chest tightened. "You did good," his words felt thick in his throat.

 

Cooper’s fingers curled into her mane, holding on as if to keep her anchored to this world just a moment longer. His gaze shifted to her trembling torso, watching as her body made one final, feeble attempt to move before falling still. His face crumpled.

 

"I'm tired too, Daddy," Janey said into his shoulder, her bandana tied tightly around her face. He stood, holding Jan ey closer.

 

 Heart pounding erratically, he surveyed the chaos of the ruined city. The air was thick with the acrid stench of smoke and burning debris, stinging his nostrils. A haze of dust and ash hung low in the sky, filtering the sunlight across the damaged buildings.

 

He pressed on. Relentless screaming around them numbed his senses. As he cradled Janey's head; her breaths were becoming shallow and uneven, her forehead fever-hot against the nape of his neck.

 

 A commotion broke through the chaos, the rumble of an approaching vehicle. He turned just in time to see a Vault-Tec van hurtling toward them. A few desperate souls slapped the side of it as it sped past, but the van barreled forward without pause. Two people stepped in its path, trying to halt its advance. The vehicle plowed over them.

 

Cooper winced, watching their bodies disappear under wheels with a sickening thud. The crowd scattered, retreating from the van’s menacing presence as it screeched to a halt beside Cooper and Janey. The imposing giant of metal loomed over them, its arrival as much a warning as it was a lifeline.

 

His eyes welled with tears. They’re here. The van door slid open, revealing a figure dressed head-to-toe in a full radiation suit. Cooper made a pained exhalation, a sound of joy escaping him as the tight lump in his throat began to ease. He took a step forward, lifting Janey off his shoulder. His arms trembled under the strain of quick movement.

 

“AHHH!” she cried, the burn deep in her sk in made every movement agony. Cooper tried to keep his face from crumpling,  “I know, I know, shhh—" he soothed her, handing her to the suited figures. His hands lingered a moment longer on her fragile form, reluctant to let her go. “They’re gonna take care of you,” he assured her.

 

The medics sprang into action. Movements precise and practiced, as they began administering treatment. An oxygen mask was placed over Janey's face, and Cooper felt hope—

 

He reached to pull himself into the van- but a gloved hand pressed against his chest, halting him. The contact sent a jolt of pain through his tender skin, causing him to grimace as he stepped back. He looked up to meet the gaze of the figure blocking his way.

 

Behind the clear shield of the suit, Cooper recognized the grim face of Henry, Barb's assistant. “Don’t fight,” Henry said, his voice devoid of any emotion. 

 

The knot in his throat tightening once more.

 

He spared a glance at Janey. She was lying down now, her small chest rising and falling weakly under the oxygen mask. She managed to lift her head in time to meet his gaze, her eyes searching for reassurance. 

 

She needs to get to Barb.

 

He smiled at her, and nodded. “Janey—I love yo-” the door slid shut cutting off his words and the last sliver of connection between them.

 

The noise echoed in his ears, a cold, metallic barrier that separated him from the only thing that mattered. He choked on a sob as the van’s engine roared to life, the vibrations traveling through the ground and into his feet. The wheels began to turn, the van pulling away with Janey inside, leaving him standing in the dust, helpless and alone.

 

“DADDY- DON’T GO–PLEASE! DADDY NOO–” Janey’s voice pierced through the car walls, a desperate, heart-wrenching cry that echoed even as the vehicle sped off. Cooper collapsed to his knees, feeling the searing heat of his tears carving trails down his charring skin. ‘She’ll be okay.’ The vehicle disappeared down the street, confidently navigating through the chaos of melting figures, their anguished faces blending into a nightmare of molten flesh.

---

 

“I don’t know anything about Janey,” Hank admitted. From the shadows, Cooper fought to hide the pain those words brought.

 

“I barely know anything about Barb anymore!,” he confessed, growing more agitated. “No one sees her, and no one hears from her unless it’s to follow some bizarre order!” Hank threw up his hand wildly. 

 

He looked at Cooper, "Bud Askins and I… well, once Bud figured out how to tweak what Barb was ‘seeing,’ we took a few liberties with Vault Protocol," he said, unapologetic.

 

---

 

Hank sat slumped on the floor, his head cradled in his hands, “I don’t know what to do, Buddy,” his voice trembled. “They’ll take her away—maybe even Norm if he’s...similar. W-what am I goi—”

 

“Hey—hey, hey!” Bud interrupted, The Brain on the small, circular platform whirred gently as he approached, his two headlight-like eyes glowing softly in the dim light. “We’ll figure something out,” he soothed, his tone a comforting echo of the human he once was.

 

Hank glanced up, meeting the steady, unwavering glow of Bud’s ‘eyes.’ Though there were no human features to read, the gentle modulation of Bud’s voice carried an unmistakable warmth, a relic of the man whose brain now powered the robotic shell. 

 

Hank let out a shaky breath, his fingers digging into his scalp. The cold metal beneath him seemed to leech the warmth from his body. But Bud’s voice, calm and steady, like always was a lifeline. He wanted to believe him, wanted to trust that they could find a way out of this. But the reality was suffocating, the thought of losing his children gnawing at him like a relentless beast.

 

Bud moved a little closer, the soft hum of his motors the only sound in the stillness. “Hank, ” he said gently, the lines on his voice box pulsing in time with the words. “We’ve been through worse. This isn’t the end, okay? We’ll find a way—together.”

 

Hank nodded, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. He reached out, his hand hovering before resting on the metal surface of Bud’s platform. It wasn’t the same as the human touch he longed for, but it was something.

 

---

 

Cooper regarded Hank with cool detachment, knowing that if this conversation continued, he might actually start to soften toward the man—something he had no intention of doing. He took a step forward, putting some distance between them. “Let’s go. We’ll talk more later. Preferably when Lucy can chime in.”

 

Hank nodded, falling in line behind him. “Not exactly looking forward to that conversation,” he said.

 

“Oh, could it be because you shoved a shovel into her husband's chest?” The words slipped out before Cooper could think them over.

 

Hank arched his brow. “You do realize you’re not actually her husband, right?”

 

He froze, “I know, I was just maki—”

 

 “You didn’t really think she’d wake up wanting to hold your hand in public, did you?” Hank scoffed.

 

Cooper’s steps faltered, his shoulders tensing.

 

Hank, oblivious, kept talking. “Come on, Cooper, you’re what, seven, eight times her age? And let’s not forget—you’re half dead! The idea of—”

 

Hank didn’t have time to finish his sentence. Cooper’s fist slammed into his face, snapping his head back. Pain exploded through his nose, and blood rushed out in a torrent. “Fuc—” The sound came out muffled, nasally, as Hank staggered back. His left arm jerked up instinctively, mirroring the defensive stance of his right. “Why the hell did you do that?” he whimpered

 

Without looking back, Cooper continued down the corridor,  "I had a coupon." 

 

---

 

Her body was trembling. On the edge of nausea when she finally reached the landing, Jerry and Rick wait, their impatience thinly veiled. She sags against the railing, breathing in shallow gasps. She threw them daggers with her eyes. Jerry’s face falls to a sheepish expression, contrasting Rick’s maintained air of disinterest.

 

Once caught up, the trio exits the staircase, immediately greeted by armed vault inhabitants. Rick and Jerry are un-phased as they pass. The guards subtly acknowledge Lucy with curt nods.  A hesitant smile flickers across her lips as she catches fragments of whispered conversations around her. The words are indistinct, but the tone is unmistakable—gossiping, assessing. A warm blush creeps across her face. They’ve been watching me. 

 

They navigate through several hallways before emerging into a small courtyard. The crowd parts upon their arrival, all eyes drawn to an imposing man who commands the clearing with his presence. In his late forties, his aura is distinguished, his features refined yet universal

 

"Ah, Lucy," he greets her with a warm smile. “Welcome.” His voice carried a familiar cadence, He sounds like Moldaver.

 

---

 

Lucy dashed into the room, just behind her father. Her breath catches as she took in the sight before her—Chet, Steph, and others stood lined up, their faces drawn and tense, with a bomb ominously placed at their feet.

 

"Welcome,” a voice, smooth and resonant, wafted through the long heavy silence.

 

Lucy’s gaze, along with her father’s, snapped to the the Overseer of Vault 32. Commanding and poised, her back is against the door of a small supply closet. Her long black hair draped over one side of her face, a dark veil that partially obscured her features but did nothing to diminish the aura of power that radiated from her.

 

Hank straightened, his expression falling into a grim line. “Oh…” he began, “I think I know who you are.” 

 

Moldaver’s face remained a blank mask. “Everyone,” Her eyebrow arched, “knows who I am.”

 

---

 

He pulls her in, placing a hand over hers. The cool contrast of his skin seeps into her. “My name is Dr. Abel Vega, and I want to thank you for your help in our coup today.” His smiles revealing a perfect row of teeth.

 

A wave of déjà vu hits her. A faint hint of irritation crosses her features before she can stop it. She Rolls her eyes—an action she immediately regrets.

 

Vega’s smile falters, “Is there a problem?” His voice now carries a sternness that wasn’t there before, a subtle shift that makes the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

 

Scrambling to mend the faux pas, Lucy forces a shaky smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to dismiss your welcome. I really appreciate the safe escort through your vault… but just to be clear about my role... I am… bait, no?” Her fingers fiddle with the edge of her sleeves.

 

Disappointment shadows his features before he composes himself. “You are what we hope will draw Dr. Glension out. The vault is mostly ours, but he’s in hiding, and his followers won’t surrender until he’s dead.”

 

Lucy stands rigid, Fatigue darkens her chocolate eyes, contrasting sharply against her fever-flushed skin. "Can I leave when it's over? With my partner and... father," she asks.

 

Vega turns his back on her. "We can arrange supplies for you and your father as soon as my followers have had a good night's sleep."

 

A sharp crease forms between Lucy’s brows, "But—"

 

"It’s not up for debate,"  His tone was final. He strides over to the courtyard wall, where a vault speaker box is mounted.

 

Anger flashes through Lucy. This is what the boys were keeping from her. She scans the courtyard, her heightened senses catching the furtive glances and nervous shifts of those around her. Some avoid her gaze entirely. A few hold her glare, their gazes echoing Vega's uncompromising stance.

 

Rick had positioned himself loyally behind Vega, While Jerry lingered somewhere behind Lucy.

 

Vega reached for the intercom, then sweeped his gaze over the audience. He nods steadily to his followers—a silent command of unity—and presses the button. "Attention, Dr. Glension. The vault is mine. Greetings, Vault 97, this is Overseer Vega speaking." The room erupts into hoots and cheers, the noise closing in around Lucy like a tightening noose.

 

A gentle tough at her wrist draws her attention. She turns to find Jerry. He leaned closer, a whisper meant only for her. "I just heard your dad and Cooper are loose in the lower levels. I’ll try to find them and bring them to the vault exit."

 

"Really?" Lucy exhaled, Jerry nodded firmly. His eyes dart toward Vega and Rick before returning to her. "Just do what you're told, okay? They’ll let you go."

 

Lucy opens her mouth to question further, but Vega’s voice booms through the room again. She turns back to face the Overseer of Vault 97, as Jerry disappeared into the crowd.

 

"Dr. Glension, we have the young Lucy McLean. If you want to stay alive, I suggest you come 'pick her up,'" Vega says with a chuckle, prompting low murmurs and laughter from the crowd.

 

A crackle from the room's speaker system cuts through the noise. "Call extension 128, please." 

 

Vega frowned. He exchanges a puzzled look with Rick; Who dials the extension. Hearing a tone, he quickly hands it to Vega.

 

"Hello?" Vega's voice is tentative, a stark contrast to his earlier confidence.

 

Lucy watches closely, her eyes follow his every movement. He turned his back to the crowd. Something's not going his way. Her gaze lingers on his fingers, absent mindedly twirling the coiled phone cord. 

 

“Mmhmm,” Vega murmurs into the receiver. He repeats the acknowledgment, his posture gradually stiffening. His hand finds his forehead, rubbing it with force. A rough sigh escapes him. “You’re kidding,” he muttered.

 

Lucy takes a step back.

 

Vega listens intently, the voice on the other end just a muffled echo to the onlookers. He scratches the back of his head, “So you’re not coming?” A tense pause follows. “Okay,” he finished. He turns and slams the phone down with force. His frustration peaks and he slams the handset down again. Then again. Then- a primal yell escapes him with barred teeth. He drops the phone with a resounding clatter, and He spins violently to face the crowd. His hand dives into his pocket, pulling out a box cutter. Lucy gulps. What's that for....

 

Vega charged her. His steps are quick and purposeful, The distance closing in an instant. Lucy takes another step back, her heart leaping into her throat-

 

Vega swung his arm wide. Lucy barely had time to raise her hand in defense before the blade slices her cheek. A line of fire flashes. She gasps stumbling backward. Lucy's hand found the fresh wound, the warmth of her blood beginning to seep through her fingers. Tears well up, stinging as they spill over her lashes and mingle with the blood seeping from the fresh cut.

 

Silence grips the room, every breath held as the impossible unfolds before the crowd.

 

From certain angles, a few onlookers catch the astonishing sight.

 

Lucy's torn flesh beginning to draw together with a life of its own.

 

Under trembling fingers, she feels the skin twitch, a delicate sensation like the gentle pull of a thread through cloth. The raw edges of the wound start to creep inward, knitting together with a soft, insistent tugging beneath her palm.

 

The sensation is both alien and intimate. Her breath hitches as the final threads of skin meet, the once-gaping wound sealing into a perfectly smooth surface. A tingling rush follows, invigorating her exhausted body but leaving her mind reeling. I’m-

 

Vega scoffs loudly, cutting through the murmuring crowd. “So it’s true,” he declares. “Dr. Glension has informed me that Lucy no longer holds value to him, as a mistake in the lab has resulted in her... Ghoulification.” He spat out the last word.

 

The crowd stirs, voices rising in debate and speculation. More tears threaten to spill over, not from pain, but from sheer shock, fear... She scanned the room, the mix of disgust and sympathy in the returned gazes gutted her. She forced herself to look away.

 

“Rick, send her to the basement,” Vega commanded, turning without another glance. Lucy didn't register his words until strong arms encircle her from behind. Her legs instantly buckle,  No!

 

"Wait! Stop!" she cries out. "You can’t do this, this is wrong!" she grunted, struggling against the grip that binds her.

 

Amid the tumult, a voice rises from the crowd. A woman. Her expression was tense, "She’s right!", her voice was gaining strength. "It’s not Lucy’s fault she’s become a ghoul… She’s one of us! She’s a vault dweller!" Around her, nods and sounds of agreement ripple through the crowd, momentarily outweighing the dissent.

 

Her gaze softens as it finds the small woman “Thank you,” she breathes out, afraid the words might shatter if spoken too loudly. “Thank you,” she repeated, exhausted.

 

Her eyes take in the woman’s appearance—a slight figure with determined eyes, standing firm in the face of Vega’s authority. Vega stepped closer "Are you in charge?" he asked, his tone deceptively sincere. The woman's confidence faltered as she averted her eyes. "No," 

 

Able nods, his expression feigning empathy as he leaned in closer, "Talk to me when you are," he said. Then straightening up, he addressed the crowd once more. "She’s going to the basement," he declared.

 

Lucy’s head drops, No. Please. The words echo in her mind, a desperate plea she knows will go unanswered. Rick’s grip tightens as he drags her. She twists—her muscles trembling, energy drained. The crowd watches, detached as she struggles. A single tear falls down her cheek, cutting through grime.

 

Her mind spirals This can’t be real. Rick yanks her forward with brutal force, and she stumbles, her knees giving out.

 

They reach a chute, a gaping mouth of darkness looming before her. Rick’s grip remains firm as he hoists her up, her arms twisted behind her back. The cold metal rim meets her face, forcing the wind from her lungs in a painful rush. Her body bends violently at the waist, her head plunging downward as the world flips on its axis.

 

Her vision blurs, blood rushing to her head as she dangles over the edge. Tears sting her eyes, mixing with the iron taste of fear in her mouth. The darkness of the chute is suffocating, and panic seizes her, tightening her throat and quickening her pulse.

 

“Please,” Lucy whispers, her voice barely more than a breath, swallowed by the void beneath her. It’s a final, desperate plea before Rick’s hands shove her forward. Her body slips into the chute, and she plummets into blackness.

 

 

---

 

"Just admit you're lost," Cooper groaned. He’s convinced they've passed the same rust stain shaped like a pizza for the fourth time. They haven’t found a new route or changed levels. 

 

The quiet around them only added to Cooper’s irritation. It was as if no one in the vault, was even bothering to search for their escaped playthings.

 

"Shut up!... It's supposed to be three lefts to every exit!" Hank yelled, abandoning any pretense of stealth.

 

"That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard," his voice echoed down the empty hallway. "No wonder we’re lost."

 

"It makes sense if you’re intelligent!" Hank shrieks!

 

Suddenly, the wall ahead groaned and slid open, Vault-Tec blue flooding the corridor and startling both men.

 

Without hesitation, Cooper lunged at the figure stepping through, seizing him by the lapels. The man barely had time to react before Cooper slammed him against the wall. "Wait, wait—Cooper, it’s me, Jerry!" he blurted, his voice shaky.

 

Cooper narrowed his eyes, recognition slowly dawning. "Tweedle Dee?" he muttered.

 

"Y-yes!... I know where Lucy is," Jerry stammered, "She’s safe!"

 

Cooper’s grip loosened, but his gaze remained hard. "You better not be fucking with me," he growled. Jerry nodded frantically.

 

"You wouldn’t have made it this far without help!," Jerry added quickly, "And the doors down here are disguised; Because you started waking up and escaping."

 

Cooper stepped back, frowning. He glanced at Hank, who looks just as puzzled. "I don’t remember escaping," Cooper said.

 

Jerry gave a nervous chuckle, "It was early days; you were still under the influence of the mind-numbing drug. Escaping in fugue states." He gestured toward the staircase, a note of urgency creeping back into his voice. "Come on, Lucy is on the third level. I’ll explain more as we head up."

 

As they follow Jerry, Cooper shoots Hank a smirk “Ladies first,” he drawls.

 

Hank rolls his eyes, “See, it wasn’t my fault we were lost.” the exit was hidden.

 

“So you admit you were lost?” Cooper said.

 

They reached the next landing,  “If we were lost, it wasn’t my fault—it was yours!” Hank snapped back.

 

Jerry was caught in the crossfire. He glanced over his shoulder.  “Hey, maybe we could keep it down? We don’t want anyone finding us.” His voice was tentative, almost pleading.

 

---

 

 

After what felt like a lifetime of grueling exertion, the trio finally emerged onto Level 3. The floor was quiet, the usual signs of life muted as most of its inhabitants had gathered in the courtyard or were stationed at various entrances.

 

Jerry led them to the halls of the residential section. He slipped them into his apartment with ease. Once inside, the tension eased slightly. The small, sparsely furnished room offered a welcome respite from the oppressive quiet outside.

 

Without a word, Jerry handed Hank a Vault-Tec jumpsuit and boots. Hank accepted them with a nod, immediately starting to change. His movements were slow and awkward as he struggled to get his arms into the sleeves and pull on the boots.

 

Jerry then turned to Cooper, giving him a quick hand gesture and an urgent command. “Wait here.” With that, he disappeared into a back room.

 

Cooper leaned against the wall, arms crossed. His eyes narrowed at the studio room. The last time he’d seen one of these apartments it was a set design, and much larger. He imagines Barb’s ‘good vault’ supplied a bigger space. I hope janey had her own room

 

When Jerry returned, he was holding a familiar bundle.

 

Cooper pushed off the wall, striding forward with purpose. His eyes locked onto the bundle in Jerry’s hands, and he reached out, his calloused fingers brushing against the worn leather of his long coat. His old gear, cleaned and folded with care.

 

“You washed it?” Cooper's voice was low, but there was an undercurrent of something softer—maybe gratitude, though he wouldn’t admit it.

 

Jerry gave a small, knowing smile. “Only once,” he said. “Figured the dirt was holding it together. My wife patched up what she could.”

 

Cooper grunted, still eyeing the coat with a critical gaze. Moving with deliberate precision, he slipped his arms into the long leather duster, the material settling over his broad shoulders. It hung heavy, but familiar. He set his hat atop his head with a subtle but unmistakable sense of finality, fingers brushing the brim in a smooth, practiced motion.

 

Jerry stepped forward, reverently handing over each weapon one by one—revolver, rifle, knife. Cooper’s hand closed around each with a firm, unyielding grip, as if reclaiming parts of himself that had been missing. The revolver found its place at his hip, the rifle rested against his back, and the knife slid home beside his ribs. He gave a sharp nod, adjusting the coat’s hem to ensure it draped cleanly. The familiar scents of leather and gun oil enveloped him, bringing a sense of calm that felt almost nostalgic.

 

He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was glad Lucy wasn’t there to see him half-dressed earlier. Being exposed under Henry’s relentless gaze had been bad enough—he’d felt stripped bare in more ways than one.

 

Now, though, the tension from before melted away. He stood tall, fully armed and armored, the presence of each weapon a silent promise of strength and control. Hank, was fumbling with the zipper of his jumpsuit.

 

He was whole again. He was ready.

 

“Let’s get moving,” Cooper command as he turned toward the door. Jerry nodded, but then hesitated. “My wife is supposed to—” His words were cut off as the apartment door slid open with a swift, mechanical sound.

 

A small woman stepped into the room, nearly colliding with Cooper’s broad frame. Taking a step back, her eyes went wide. The door hissed shut behind her.

 

“Oh, you’re here already,” she said, taking in the sight of Cooper—a ghoul, not the famous ‘human’ actor she might have expected. The room fell into an awkward silence. 

 

Jerry broke the tension, “This is my wife, Denise,” he introduced her with pride.

 

Cooper gave her a playful wink, catching Denise off guard. She looked down, a blush rising to her cheeks. Hank, offered her a brief irritated nod.

 

Denise's gaze flitted between the three men, her eyes lingering on Cooper for a heartbeat before shifting to Jerry. The moment her gaze locked with his, a wave of relief washed over her, softening the edges of her features. Jerry crossed the room in a few quick strides, gathering her into a tight embrace. She collapsed into him, her body yielding to the familiar comfort of his arms. The tension in her shoulders drained away as her fingers curled into the fabric of his suit.

 

“How did it go? Did Glension come?” Jerry asked, pulling back just enough to search her face.

 

She shook her head, “No, he didn’t come.” She looks at the men, her voice trembling slightly. “He refused.”

 

Hank stiffens, “What do you mean, he refused?” His voice rises, anger bubbling up. He snapped his attention to Jerry. “You said she was safe as long as she was of use!”

 

Cooper steps in front of Hank, “Cool it,” he said sharply. He turned his focus back on the married couple. “What does this mean for getting out of here?” 

 

Jerry placed a hand on Denise’s shoulder, “Where is Lucy now?”

 

Denise’s eyes fill with remorse. “They threw her down the garbage chute,” she said.

 

“WHAT?” Hank roared. He took menacing stepped forward causing Denise to shrink back. Cooper doesn’t budge, placing himself squarely between the two.

 

“I tried to stop them—” Denise began, but Cooper cuts her off with a raised hand. 

 

“Why the chute? How long is it?” he demanded, trying to stay civil.

 

Hank’s voice boomed through the room, “The garbage chute leads to the basement, ten levels down!” The thought of his daughter hitting every bend and turn as she descended fills him with a nearly uncontrollable rage.

 

 A flash of pain crossed his features. Damn it—falling from that height... He pushes the thought aside. “Why would they do that?” he asked.

 

Silence hangs as Denise looks past Cooper, locking eyes with Hank. She looked back to Jerry, searching for support. “I-I don’t know,” she stammers.

 

 “It’s alright, you’ve helped a lot,” he said. 

 

“Helped?!” Hank explodes, storming further into the apartment. “We just climbed eight flights of stairs for nothing! BECAUSE MY DAUGHTER IS A CRUMPLED PIECE OF PAPER IN THE BASEMENT!”

 

“HANK! QUIT IT!” Cooper barked, his voice cutting through Hank’s outburst like a whip. He turns back to the couple. “Listen, thanks for the help. If you need to cut ties with us, I get it. Just let us go back down to the basement.”

 

Jerry, standing in front of his wife, bristles at Hank’s outburst but nods at Cooper’s words. “We do need to go. Things are getting tense, and we’ve got to be around to do our part.” He glances at Denise, then back at Cooper, “If you can get to the vault exit, I’ll do everything I can to meet you there and get you both out, That's what Lucy wanted.” Denise tensed from her husband's phrasing.

 

Hank rolls his eyes, tilting his head back. “Because you’ve been so helpful…” he muttered.

 

Cooper shoots Hank a sharp look, “You done?” He paused. Hank pouted and gave a small nod. “Good. Let’s move.”

 

Cooper swallowed the urge to lash out, forcing himself to maintain control. “Thank you for your hospitality...” he drawled.

 

Denise offered Cooper a small, weary smile,  “Jerry,” she said quietly, her eyes meeting his “can I speak with you privately before you go?”

 

Jerry nodded before following Denise into a small room of the apartment. The door slid shut behind them, leaving Cooper and Hank in an silence. Hank shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his earlier frustration simmering beneath the surface, while Cooper remained stoic, his eyes fixed on the door, waiting for the conversation to end. Lucy is okay, Lucy is okay, Lucy is-

 

Jerry returned, his expression more resolved. Without a word, he led Cooper and Hank out of the apartment. 

 

Jerry guided them back to the stairwell. Hank reached it first, slipping through without a word. Jerry kept Cooper from following. A firm hand clamping down on his shoulder, before he crossed the threshold.

 

 “Cooper,” Jerry started, “Lucy has become a Ghoul. That’s why they threw her down the chute.” He paused, the weight of his words heavy in the air. “It leads to where they keep the captive ghouls and mutants.”

 

A chill crept down Cooper’s spine, She’s fresh? His fists clenched, knuckles turning purple. The image of Lucy—Jerry’s voice broke through, pulling him back.

 

“Denise was too scared to mention it in front of Hank,” Jerry admitted, with a sheepish half-smile.

 

I don’t blame her. Though now, he was actually grateful for Hank’s outburst. The last thing he needed right now, was for Hank to find out about Lucy— The thought of Hank’s inevitable explosion, only added to the pressure building in Cooper’s chest.

 

“I just wanted you to know… Good luck, Cooper.” Jerry said.

 

Cooper nodded slowly,“Thanks,” he muttered, rough but sincere. Jerry understood without needing more.

 

As Jerry gave him a gentle push toward the door, Cooper resisted, The light-hearted moment evaporated as his face hardened, locking onto Jerry with an intense, unyielding stare.

 

“Be straight with me,” Cooper started.

 

Jerry’s brows furrowed, As Cooper spoke, slow and deliberate. “Did y’all… have sex in my clothes?”

 

The question landed and Jerry’s face flushed a deep red.

 

 Cooper’s stern expression softened into a smirk, a low, amused whistle escaping him.

 

The tension broke with Jerry managing a bashful smile, “Okay, so we washed it twice,” He admitted.

 

Cooper chuckled,  before giving Jerry a rough pat on the back. “Good man,” he muttered. He turned and entered the stairwell, his boots clanging against the metal steps as he descended.

 

---

 

Lucy’s small legs kicked rhythmically against the wooden cabinet doors, a soft, steady thud filling the warm kitchen with each tap. Her tiny hand swirled through the soapy water in the sink, fingers exploring the hidden depths beneath the bubbles. The faint hum of her mother’s lullaby floated through the room, mingling with the scent of simmering stew, creating a cocoon of comfort and warmth.

Rose McLean moved around the kitchen with a practiced grace, her swollen belly barely slowing her down as she prepared dinner. Even eight months pregnant, she made sure to keep Lucy close, perched on the counter where she could watch her every move. It was a silent understanding between them—Lucy needed to be near, to feel her mother’s presence, and Rose, despite the ache in her back, wouldn’t have it any other way.

As Rose bent down to retrieve vegetables from the fridge’s lower shelf, Lucy’s curiosity tugged her hand deeper into the water. The toddler’s fingers slid over something sharp, and pain shot through her hand like a sudden jolt. A small, sharp gasp escaped her lips as she jerked her hand back from the water,  her small face crumpling as tears welled up in her wide brown eyes.

Rose was to her in an instant, the discomfort in her back forgotten. Her heart twisted at the sight of Lucy clutching her small hand to her chest, her eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. Without a word, Rose reached out, her hands gentle but sure as she cradled Lucy’s tiny fingers in her own. She glanced down into the water, her stomach clenching at the sight of the faint pink streaks swirling through the suds.

Her mother’s touch, warm and familiar, was her anchor. She turned her tear-filled eyes to Rose, seeking the one thing that could make everything better— Rose’s face softened, a tender smile spreading across her lips despite the worry etched in her brow. She knew the power of her smile, how it could soothe Lucy’s fears better than any words. “Oh, my sweet girl,” she murmured, her voice a soft lullaby of its own.

Lucy sniffled, lifting her injured hand toward her mother, the unspoken plea clear in her eyes—

Rose asked softly, her voice full of warmth. “Do you want me to kiss it better?” 

 

-

Lucy’s shoulders throb with a dull, relentless ache, collapsed like a wilted flower. Each breath she takes burns in her chest, her body fevered and slick with sweat, the heat building under her clammy skin. A pounding pressure mounts behind her eyes, making it hard to think, let alone focus on the faint murmur of voices penetrating the fog of her discomfort, pulling her toward the surface of awareness.

 

“Hold her other arm,” someone demands sharply, their tone cutting through the haze. A sudden, sharp snap follows, and a scream tears from her lips, piercing the oppressive air. One of her eyes snap open, wide and bloodshot, revealing the exhaustion etched into every corner of her being.

 

“I know, I know… Give it a second…” A large, green figure looms above Lucy, his features exaggerated and monstrous, far beyond the distorted faces of any ghoul she’s seen before. Panic flares in her chest, but before she can react, she feels a sickening pop as her eye socket snaps back into place. A wave of euphoric relief floods through her body, the sudden easing of pressure allowing her to gasp, her lungs expanding painfully as they fill with air.

 

“There it is!” another voice chimes in, excitement rippling through the room like a small, shared victory. The tone is almost congratulatory, as though they’ve just accomplished something significant.

 

She tries to speak but instead erupts into a fit of wet, ragged coughs, each one rattling through her chest and leaving a metallic taste in her mouth. The effort drains her, and she gasps for air, the sound weak and desperate as she struggles to pull herself together.

 

Lucy’s head rolls to the side, her vision swimming as she tries to focus. Her voice, a raspy whisper, barely escapes her cracked lips. “What’s going on?” she manages to croak out, “W-who are you?” she asks, her words trembling as they leave her mouth.

 

The man’s wrinkled face softens with a hint of empathy, his monstrous form now more familiar in the dim light. “My name is Marcus, And this is where they lock up the ‘monsters’ ,” he explains gently.

 

Lucy’s breath catches, her thoughts swirling in a maelstrom of fear and realization. ‘Monsters’

 

She’s a ghoul now. That recent agony was her body healing itself—just like she’d seen Thaddeus do before. With a heavy sigh, still on the cold, grimy floor, her hands weakly cover her eyes. A sniffle escapes her.

 

From beneath her hands, her voice emerges, muffled and small. “It’s nice to meet you, my name is Lucy.” The words are automatic, a reflex of civility.

 

A chorus of warm and reassuring voices surround her, “Hi Lucy,” they say, the simple greeting carrying a strange sense of understanding. Encouraged by their kindness, Lucy slowly removes her hand and forces herself to sit up. Her hair, once a soft brown, now hangs in greasy, limp strands, plastered to her sweaty, blood-streaked face. Her giant brown eyes, usually bright and alert, are rimmed with dark circles, the exhaustion etched into her features making her look far older than her years. She scans the room through blurry eyes, taking in the figures surrounding her. Ghouls, and a few beings resembling Marcus.

 

Her gaze lingers on Marcus again, curiosity flickering in her tired eyes as she takes in his massive, mutated form. He chuckles, the sound deep and resonant, as if sensing her thoughts. “What? you’ve never seen a Mutant before?” His laughter ripples through the room, a few of the others joining in, their voices a mix of gruffness and genuine amusement.

 

A faint smile tugs at Lucy’s cracked lips, her own soft laugh escaping despite herself. “No, sorry,” she replies, her voice rough but carrying a trace of the awe she feels at this unexpected encounter.

 

Marcus’s chuckle fades into something more serious as he studies her. "Fresh and a dweller, I can hardly blame you for not knowing," he remarks.

 

"Fresh?" Lucy echoes, her voice laced with confusion. A ghoul sitting nearby—his skin mottled and cracked—leans forward to explain. "Fresh is what we call a new ghoul. They're so new, half of them don’t even realize what's happened yet."

 

Lucy nods slowly, the term settling uncomfortably in her mind. She pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them in a protective gesture. "Yeah, I don’t think I would have noticed if they hadn’t told me," she admits, her voice small. Inside, a conflicting thought gnaws at her— ‘I don’t feel different,’ she tells herself, but the truth is undeniable: she feels more alien in her own skin than ever before.

 

Her eyes flicker around the room, scanning the faces of those around her, searching desperately for answers, for any clue as to what comes next. "How can you tell?" she asks, the question hanging in the heavy air.

 

Marcus tilts his head, his expression softening into something almost fatherly. "We can smell you. You’ll understand more as your body changes," he says, his voice tinged with a solemn understanding of the journey she’s just begun. He then adds, almost as an afterthought, "Also, you fell through the chute and coiled like a spring," the statement eliciting a few chuckles from around the room, a moment of levity in the otherwise grim surroundings.

 

The corner of Lucy's mouth twitched at a dark humored image.

 

"She’ll only know if she lives long enough," someone mutters from the back, the words a dark reminder of the precariousness of their existence. The light-heartedness evaporates, replaced by a somber silence. Marcus’s face reflects the shared pain of the room, his features knitting into a grimace as he acknowledges the truth they all face. "Yeah, unfortunately, you're in the same boat as us, and this one is sinking."

 

‘They’re all sinking.” Lucy thinks grimly. 

 

Lucy feels a large, gentle hand rest on her shoulder, the warmth of the touch seeping through her clothes and into her bones, offering a small comfort. She turns her head slightly, her eyes meeting Marcus's. He offers her a faint, reassuring smile, one that speaks of understanding and shared pain. A small, trembling smile breaks through the exhaustion etched on her face.

 

The kinship in the room stirs memories of her vault, where the bonds of friendship and solidarity ran deep—where everyone was willing to lift each other up, no matter how far they had fallen.

 

“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion, each word carrying the weight of her appreciation. “Thank you all... for being so kind.” The sincerity in her tone is undeniable, her voice soft yet imbued with a raw, unguarded honesty that she’s been holding back. Tears glisten in her eyes, but she holds them at bay

 

A ghoul with curly hair shrugs, his expression distant, lost in thought. "We’ve all been fresh before," he says, his voice tinged with a melancholy that resonates with everyone in the room. He looks down at his hands, fingers twisting together nervously. "I sure wish someone had been nice to me when I found out," he adds, the confession hanging heavy in the air.

 

Lucy looks around, her gaze sweeping across the faces of those around her—each one etched with a mix of longing and resignation. The room feels smaller now, the darkness pressing in on them, the heat and humidity thick and stifling. Exposed pipes line the walls, hissing occasionally as steam escapes, adding to the suffocating atmosphere. The air is thick with the stench of trash, death, and old blood, a miasma that clings to the back of her throat.

 

She gulps, her gaze shifting to the filthy medical exam table that looms ominously in the corner, its surface stained with old blood. "What have they done to you guys?" she asks, barely above a whisper, the dread curling in her stomach.

 

Marcus winces, his voice heavy with bitter resignation. "The doctor likes to cut us up," he says, the words simple.

 

Farther down the room, another ghoul—his face twisted in pain—chimes in, "He likes to see how much he can hurt us before we turn feral."

 

"Then he puts us down like dogs," another voice adds, thick with disgust.

 

Lucy's stomach flips, a wave of nausea rolling over her as the horrors sink in. There was a reason Dr. Glension was being overthrown, though she thinks ‘Vega isn’t much better’ .

 

Aloud, she asks, "What's the current plan?"

 

Marcus’s expression tightens, "Plan?" he echoes flatly.

 

Lucy looks around, "Well, don’t you want to escape?"

 

"How, princess? You think maybe we haven’t tried all our options?" His tone is harsh and biting.

 

Her eyes drift toward the chute she had tumbled out of, her fingers absently rubbing her shoulder as she recalls every painful bump and scrape of her tight descent. “Have you tried climbing up the chute?” she asks, her voice cutting through the heavy silence.

 

Marcus nods slowly, his expression somber, tinged with a sad understanding. “Yeah, none of us fit,” he says, his tone resigned, as though the answer had been long accepted. Unlike Lucy, they all came into this room through the door. 

 

“I fit.” The words slip out of Lucy’s mouth almost before she fully realizes what they imply. She then flicks her gaze to Marcus, catching the moment his eyes widen with realization. A wide, gap-toothed smile spreads across his face. “You’re right, you do fit.

Notes:

Thank you to everyone whose been following, chapter to chapter. I've edited and included more in earlier chapters, 4+, Nothing has been added that you couldn't follow along with the current chapter. Just thought I'd let you know! I hope everyone has a splendid week!

Chapter 15: The Final Countdown

Lucy’s forearm burns as she strains to push herself another inch higher. The stench of rot and decay chokes the narrow shaft, the foul air thick and oppressive. She inhales sharply through her nose, only to gag as the rancid smell twists her stomach into knots. Her arm trembles, muscles quivering as she inches upward.

Her forearm digs into the rough wall, pushing her up, while her other hand reaches for the opposite side. As her fingers find purchase, they slip on something slick and wet, sending her sliding downward with a startled yelp. Panic flares as she grinds her teeth, her limbs flailing out to brace against the walls, desperately trying to stop her descent.

Her eyes clamp shut, heart hammering so hard it feels like it might burst from her chest. Each breath comes in ragged, shaky gasps, the sweat on her forehead mingling with the grime. “Hooohh, breathe,” she whispers to herself, her voice a steadying force against the rising tide of fear. The overpowering stench makes her stomach lurch, but she swallows hard, forcing herself to focus, to calm the frantic beat of her heart. “You can do this,” she murmurs, willing herself to believe it.

Tentatively, she opens her eyes and tilts her head upward. The chute stretches above her, disappearing into darkness, the distance to the next opening a daunting unknown. The rancid air claws at her nostrils, and she swallows down the acidic bile threatening to rise. “You can do this,” she repeats, her voice firmer now, as she steels herself for the next painful inch.

 

---

 

Hank’s voice bounced off the dimly lit stairwell walls as they descended, the faint orange glow from the overhead lights stretching their shadows long and thin. “What did the bozo tell you?” 

 

Cooper kept his pace steady- without warning, His lungs clenched, forcing him to halt. He doubled over, a harsh, rattling cough tearing through his chest like broken glass. His fingers dug into the railing, as his body convulsed with each painful wheeze.

 

Hank stopped a few steps ahead, turning to look back at the ghoul. His expression wavered between impatience and unease, unsure whether to step in or just let Cooper ride it out.

 

His body gave one last shudder before he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. When he finally straightened, his face was a mask of indifference. 

 

“He told me he and his wife had sex in my clothes," He said.

 

Hank’s face twisted “Wha- Why would he tell you that?”

 

Cooper shrugged, and moved forward past the old man. “Don’ know,” he replied, The secret to a good lie is that it's built on the gaps.

 

Hank quickened his pace, his boots clattering against the metal stairs as he hurried to catch up with Cooper. His face twisting painfully around his broken nose, “Do you think Lucy is okay?” his voice wavered.

 

A flicker of unease crossed Cooper’s face, too quick for Hank to catch. His thoughts drifted to Janey, to the countless years he’d spent grasping at the thinnest threads of hope, desperate for any word about her. Two hundred years of cold, empty not knowing. And Hank here couldn’t bear thirty damn minutes? Let him stew.

 

 “She’ll be fynne,” Dragged out as if against his will. But he meant it.

 

It was hard to really worry about her when he’d seen firsthand how the universe had a soft spot for the dweller, twisting every mess in her favor and leaving everyone else worse off. A flicker of grim satisfaction crossed his mind, thinking about the poor bastards about to get caught in her storm—

 

Hank didn’t seem to share such faith. He exhaled sharply, the sound caught somewhere between frustration and desperation, his hand running through his hair in a tense gesture. “How could she be? Shoved in a tight space, experimented on, harvested!” Each word hit like a stone, making Cooper’s jaw tighten with every blow.

 

“Look—” Cooper’s boots ground to a halt on the metal landing, his rough pivot bringing him face-to-face with Hank.  “Your daughter’s got a knack for slipping out of tight spots with nothing more than a finger out of place.”

 

Hank’s shoulders slackened, In the heavy silence that followed, Cooper bit down on the inside of his cheek, the taste of iron tethering him to the present. He turned away, and Hank followed, like the damn shadow he was. 

 

They descended floor after floor in tense silence—not because Hank had suddenly learned the art of quiet, but because Cooper had threatened to sew his mouth shut if he didn’t.

 

---

 

When they reached the bottom, Hank took the lead, his steps more determined than tentative as he veered to the right, relying on his memory of Vault 33’s layout and praying it matched this one.

 

Cooper followed, The air was suddenly thick with a heavy stench of decay. They halted in front of a heavy, grime-coated watertight door, its dog wheel rusted and stubborn—Hank shot Cooper a look, his jaw clenched. Cooper answered with a sharp nod, his grip tightening around his gun. “Ain’t no time for second thoughts,” It was to Hank and himself. 

 

Hank didn’t waver. “Right,” his lone right hand grasped the dog wheel. The mechanism fought back, groaning as Hank struggled to force it through one full rotation, then another, before it finally gave with a loud click. The door creaked open, the sound echoing down the corridor.

 

Cooper moved in first, gun raised, his eyes sweeping the room with cold precision. He stopped short, taking in the sight before him.

 

Rows of cages lined the walls, filled with mutants and ghouls. They stood there, eerily still, their grotesque forms frozen in a mix of shock and confusion, as if they couldn’t quite believe someone had just entered their domain.

 

As Cooper’s gaze continued to sweep the room, he noticed the grim array of medical equipment—rusted scalpels, syringes filled with who-knows-what, and a bloodstained operating table. 

 

“Is she in there?” Hank’s voice filtered through the narrow gap of the door. After a quick, anxious glance, he stepped inside, his eyes darting around the room.

 

Cooper’s silence was answer enough. The room was filled with horrors, but no sign of Lucy. Just the silent, staring eyes of creatures too stunned to react, except one.

 

“Oh! Are you looking for Lucy?” The voice boomed from the largest of the bunch, a towering mutant who stepped forward. Recognition lit up Cooper’s face.

 

“Marcus! You big bastard!” Cooper shouted, genuine warmth in his voice. “How ya been?”

 

The mutant squinted, pressing himself against the bars of his cage, his massive form straining the metal as he leaned forward, trying to confirm what his eyes were seeing. “Ghoul? Is that you?” Marcus rumbled, his deep voice vibrating through the air.

 

Hank stood to the side, bewildered by the exchange. “Ghoul?” he repeated- he was quickly drowned out by the noise of the ghouls around them, who had started murmuring excitedly, recognizing the notorious “Ghoul.”  

 

"THE Ghoul!?" 

"The ghoul is here."

"Either were all saved or all dead."

"The Ghoul will save us."

 

 

Cooper stepped closer to the familiar mutant ignoring the room.

 

Marcus’s reaction was swift—he thrust out his massive arm, his long wingspan catching The Ghoul by the bandolier. With a powerful yank, Marcus slammed Cooper’s chest against the hard bars of the cage- lifting him clean off the floor.

 

Cooper gasped- Feet danging. He tilted his head back, face twisting into a smirk.

 

“Oh, you’re not still mad about—” Cooper began,

“—about you burning down my first settlement?” Marcus cut in, His lips pulled back into a gapped sneer. 

 

Marcus yanked Cooper harder against the bars again. He grunted, his hands wrapping around the bars near his face as he struggled to draw breath.

 

“I heard you’ve got a better place now—” Cooper managed, Before he could finish, Marcus thrust him against the bars once more, the pain flashing through Cooper’s ribs. His eyes squeezed shut briefly,“—One I’m sure you’d appreciate some help getting back to?” he finished, holding a glimmer of his usual cocky resolve.

 

Marcus’s grip on the Ghoul loosened slightly, uncertainty flickering in his eyes as he stole a glance at the vault dweller standing behind.

 

Hank stood there, arms crossed over his chest, One hand was noticeably missing, replaced by a blunt stump. Catching Marcus’s gaze, Hank lifted his chin defiantly and spoke up. “Meaning, if you want out of that cage, you might want to think about letting him go, Einstein,”  

 

Marcus’s gaze flicked back to Cooper, his nostrils flaring as he took a slow, deep breath. His eyes narrowed, having caught on to an unexpected scent that lingered in the air—something newly familiar.

 

His gaze slid to the bar, where Cooper’s right hand gripped the iron, knuckles purple. With a curious tilt of his head, Marcus dipped lower, his stubby nose grazing along Cooper’s index finger.

 

The touch was quick, but the intent behind it was unmistakable—

 

The action jolted Cooper’s hand away as if stung, his eyes flashing with a private offense. His smirk faded slightly, replaced by a look of wary annoyance.

 

Marcus released his grip, and Cooper dropped a foot lower, stumbling as his boots hit the floor.

 

Marcus’s deep voice rumbledd “Lucy is yours?” 

 

Cooper’s jaw tightened, his mind racing for a response-

 

Hank cut in, his hand resting on his chest with an air of possessiveness. “No, Lucy is my daughter,” he declared firmly.

 

That’s not what Marcus meant, but he let it slide, grateful in a way that Hank’s explanation kept things moving.

 

Marcus’s gaze flicked from Cooper to Hank, a huff of amusement escaping him, echoed by a few other captives in the room. “Your daughter, huh?”  his lips curling into a knowing smirk as he turned his attention back too The Ghoul. Cooper shook his head slightly. 

 

Marcus leaned casually against the bars, his massive frame barely contained by the iron. “Well, you just missed her,” he said. A few others in the room stifled their laughter.

 

Hank misread the room entirely. His face twisted in disgust as he spat out, “Did you eat her?” 

 

Marcus's hands shot up briefly in defense, as a chorus of scoffs and indignant “Woah’s!” echoed through the room, the captives clearly offended.

 

Cooper groaned. Christ what a dick.

 

Marcus tilted his head down, barely concealing the laughter bubbling up inside him. “In-laws,” he muttered under a cough, before breaking into a broad grin. The tension in the room eased, a few others joining in with low chuckles that echoed off the cold walls.

 

Cooper seized the moment, his tone sharpening as he shifted back to business. “How’d she get out?” 

 

“Same way she came in,” Marcus replied, his smile widening as the group of captives parted down the middle, revealing the grimy opening of the garbage chute.

 

Hank, momentarily forgetting the implications. “YOU have got to be kidding me. We just came down—” he threw his arms up in disbelief, “—to find her after walking all the way up!”

 

“Oh, you’ll find I’m quite upset about that too,” came a voice from just outside the room.

 

Hank and Cooper turned sharply, their eyes locking onto Dr. Glension as he stepped into the room, a gun aimed steadily at them. The doctor’s calm demeanor only added to the threat, his expression cool and calculating.

 

Cooper’s eyes darted to the floor, where his gun had fallen during the scuffle with Marcus, as he calculated his next move.

 

“I wouldn’t if I were you, Mr. Howard,” He reinforced his command with a slight adjustment of his aim, the barrel of the gun now squarely trained on Hank.

 

Hank raised his arms in defense, eyes wide.

 

Cooper’s gaze flicked from Hank to the doctor, then to the gun, and back to the doctor. “Shoot him, I don’t care,”

 

Hank’s eyes bulged in shock,  slowly turning his agape gaze toward Cooper.

 

The corners of Dr. Glension’s mouth twitched, amusement flickering behind his Circular glass frames. 

 

 Cooper’s hand darted toward the gun on his hip, but Dr. Glension was quicker.

 

With a flick of his wrist and a pull of the trigger, the gunshot rang out.

 

The explosive sound jolted everyone, hands flying to their ears—everyone but the doctor, who remained unfazed.

 

Cooper’s world narrowed to a sharp, searing pain. His hands flew to his neck in a futile attempt to staunch the bleeding where the bullet had torn through his esophagus. Blood poured through his fingers like a spigot, Dammit, he collapsed to his knees. His watery, furious eyes locked onto Dr. Glension.

 

“Ffcchhkkkk,” His bottom lip quivering as blood bubbled up from his throat.

 

“Oh, shit ,” Hank said, his eyes wide with panic as he took in Cooper. “Is he going to be okay?”he turned back to the doctor.

 

A ghoul from the back of the room chimed in, “He’ll spit it out in a few.”

 

“He’s right,” Dr. Glension replied coolly, his gun still trained on Hank, as Cooper’s hands remained desperately clutching his throat. “Remove his weapons and drag him to the cage,” Glension ordered.

 

Hank grimaced and awkwardly bent down, fumbling one handedly with Cooper’s belt. He tossed it and other accessories to the side with a clatter.

 

Satisfied, He roughly tugged at Cooper’s collar, pulling the fabric tight against the gaping wound in his neck. A pained hiss from his  lips. “Sss-ughhgg,” his body writhing as he tried to shake off Hank’s harsh grip.

 

Hank released him in a huff. “Fine, walk then! You didn’t get shot in the legs!” he snapped.

 

Dr. Glension rolled his eyes, his patience wearing thin. “Just get in the cage” he spat through his grinding teeth.

 

Hank begrudgingly helped a stumbling Cooper into the cage, before turning around to see the iron cage door shut behind them.

 

Dr. Glension stepped forward, pulling out a key to lock it with a deliberate, almost ceremonial motion. Hank squared his gaze on the doctor,  “You must be Dr. Glension. I’m Hank MacLean, overseer of Vault 33-”

 

“Former overseer, if my sources are correct,” Glension responded, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he slowly removed a pair of small earbuds. “But I’m well aware of who you are, Mr. MacLean. You’re the reason I had to abandon my ‘Goo research’ for three years.”

 

Hank’s jaw tightened. “I never meant for Lucy to leave the Vault—”

 

“But she did,” Glension cut in.

 

He began to pace toward the center of the room, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. “You see, I couldn’t care less that you falsified her medical records, Mr. MacLean.”

 

He snapped around to face Hank, his eyes narrowing with disdain. “All you had to do was die quietly in your Vault! But no, you couldn’t just stay under the radar, could you?” 

 

 

Hank raised his voice back gesturing around “You wanna look around at how you handle things before judging me? Who here lost their throne?”

 

Dr. Glension shook his head “I knew they were going to coup. That’s why I had Lucy sent down here.” 

 

Cooper shifts, Pushing himself up on shaky legs. His chiseled jaw rocks side to side with a wince. A low, guttural groan escaping as he rolls his neck. The weathered lines of his skin shift as the raw tissue in his throat knits back together. 

 

His deep-set eyes lock onto Glension and with a slight tilt of his head, Cooper’s cracked lips pucker into a tight 'O.' he spits the bullet, sending it to strike Hank square in the cheek.

 

Hank flinches, eyes squeezing shut as he turns his head away. “Oh my god,” he whispers.

 

Cooper cleared his throat, leaning casually against the iron bars, arms outstretched. Across the room, Marcus mirrored the stance behind the doctor.

 

“What d’ya want with Lucy? Quit draggin’ it out,” Cooper snaps.

 

A ripple of murmurs spread through the room, a growing tide of agreement among the captives. “Yeah, what’s so special about Lucy?” a voice rang out, higher and sharper than the rest, echoing the collective curiosity and tension.

 

Dr. Glension smiled broadly, his eyes glinting with something dark as he gestured around the room at the inquisitive crowd. “I think you’d all be more interested in my Goo—”

A wave of displeasure and confusion swept across the room.

“What Goo?”-

 “Who even are you? -

“Just let us go!”-

“I’m actually still interested in Lucy..”-

“ Please! I have a family!”-

Dr. Glension’s smile wavered as the cacophony of voices grew louder, each captive voicing their fears, frustrations, and demands. His gaze flicked back to Cooper, who gave nothing more than a lazy shrug.

 

“Fine!” Glension’s voice sliced through the room, He punctuated the word with a downward thrust of his arms “Fine– Mrs. Howard found out about Ms. MacLean’s condition, and the trials began immediately. The first five months were spent testing the limits of… Lucy’s ability.”

 

Hank’s shoulders sagged, his head dropping to rest against the cold metal bars, the fight draining out of him.

 

Cooper tipped his head back and let out a low, guttural groan. For the love of — This guy says a bunch of nothin.

 

“But—even though none of you seem to care…” Glension’s voice dripped with contempt as he scanned the room, “With the assistance of my goo and the medical pod, we’ve achieved outstanding results!”

 

He paused, seething. “But it was never enough for Mrs. Howard!” Glension’s voice rose, his anger flaring. “I was finally showing what my goo could do! And all she cared about was her precious results!” His words hung in the air, but the room stayed silent, the tension thickening.

 

Glension’s focus wavered, and he began to mutter, almost to himself. “That’s why I turned her. Vega wouldn’t consider her valuable after he found out… I knew he’d send her down here, one way or another, giving me the chance to grab her before I left.”

 

Hank and Cooper both spoke at once. “What do you mean by ‘turn’ her?” Hank’s voice trembled while Cooper’s was a low growl. “Where were you planning to take her?”

 

Glension turned back to them, a twisted smile curling at the corners of his mouth. “Barb didn’t need to know about her ghoulish status. She’d have given me transport if I had Lucy—no questions asked. She’s wanted Lucy for a long time, but I kept her at bay. First with the pod, then with the goo to fill it. I knew a coup was coming, and I wasn’t about to let the numbers work against me. Holding onto Lucy was my ticket to refuge in Vault 96.”

 

His eyes flared as he spun around, glaring at the caged ghouls, “But she isn’t here, IS SHE?!” He kicked Cooper’s gear with a vicious swipe, sending it clattering against the wall, the sound of metal ringing sharply through the tense air.

 

Cooper didn’t flinch. Instead, his gaze settled on Glension’s feet. “Watch your step,” he said with a point. 

 

“Huh?” Glension’s eyes dropped, spotting the gun lying just in his path. “Oh!” he blurted, stumbling back to avoid the obstacale– Two massive, grimy green hands shoot out from the shadows, clamping around Glension’s face with brutal force. His muffled cry, “Hrrm mhh!” was quickly swallowed by the thick, calloused fingers crushing his jaw.

 

A crack was heard through the room, Glension’s body falling limp in an instant.

 

Cooper flinched. Fuck—

 

Marcus,  casually shifted Glension’s lifeless body and tossed it with a half-hearted effort. It skid across the floor until it stopping near a bloodstained medical table. He then looked at Cooper, flashing a wide, gap-toothed grin .

 

Cooper’s head snapped up, eyes blazing “Why the hell did you kill him!?” he shouted.

 

The mutants face fell as he shrugged his massive shoulders, “I thought that’s what you wanted!”

 

Cooper’s hand cut through the air in a sharp, frustrated gesture, pointing at the lifeless doctor sprawled on the floor. “You didn’t think that maybe—just maybe—keeping him alive for a damn minute might’ve been useful for, I don’t know, interrogation?!”

“No—” Marcus began.

 

“Or, here’s a thought,” Cooper interjected,  “how about the cell door keys?”

 

Marcus rolled his eyes, as if the solution was obvious. “We can take the keys from his pocket "

 

Cooper gestured broadly at the distant corpse. “By all means, why don’t you go ahead and grab them?”

 

Marcus glanced at the body, realizing just how far he’d tossed it across the room. “Oh,” he muttered, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “My bad.”

 

He looked around, noting the growing annoyance in the faces of those around him. The room’s frustration was palpable, but Marcus could only offer a helpless shrug in response. “Guess I overdid it,” he admitted.

 

Cooper gripped the metal bars, his fingers curling around the cold iron as he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against them.

 

Behind him, Hank seemed to shake free from a daze. “Did he say Lucy is a ghoul?”

 

Cooper’s eyes snapped shut, his breath escaping through gritted teeth in a slow, drawn-out sigh.

 

---

 

A desperate hand breaks over the ledge of the chute, four fingers clawing for leverage, one noticeably gray and lifeless. Struggling to maintain a grip; Another hand soon follows, mirroring the action. A low grunt escapes from the depths of the chute, followed by the sound of muffled impacts against metal walls.

 

With a final, determined push, Lucy’s head emerges, her face contorted with effort. Her breath comes in ragged gasps as she hauls herself up and out.

 

She collapses onto the cold floor, her body sprawled. “Holy Moly.” she breathed out.  One hand rests on her stomach, rising and falling. Her eyes squeeze shut as she fights to swallow down exhaustion.

 

For a moment, she just lies there, the coolness of the floor seeping into her bones. 1, 2, 3, 4...

 

She peaks open an eye, a slight sting bites from  against the harsh light that fills the room. Her head turns sluggishly, as she she squints both eyes open.

 

She found herself in a hallway, the kind lined with rows of apartment doors, "Yes!", she whispered raising her fist in a small, celebratory pump. The thrill was short-lived. Pain shot through her arm.

 

She quickly tucked her it against her chest,  “Ow,” she whined, her face a sour sadness.

 

Approaching voices jolted her upright.

 

She rolled off the floor, her limbs protesting the sudden movement, but she didn’t hesitate. With her heart pounding in her chest, she scampered down the hall.

 

She had a plan. What was her plan?
She had no plan.

 

Steps falter, lungs stall as she glanced down one corridor to another. I could… She scratched the top of her head, I could check the…

 

She was at a loss.

 

Should she find a way to release her new friends or focus on finding her father—and that... man. Lucy squeezed her eyes shut, pinching the bridge of her nose. Not my husband My—friend? Partner? Lover? Part-time lover, full-time friend.

 

She groaned and leaned her forehead against the nearest wall, arms dangling at her sides. Think. Think. Think.

 

She inhaled deeply. Jerry said he’d get Cooper and Dad. So, that was off her plate—if she trusted they’d be taken to the vault exit. She could just focus on keeping her promise to Marcus and the others. So…

 

The Overseer’s office should have keys to the cells. She shook her head rapidly at the thought. God, I hope so.

 

Her gaze drifted toward the elevator. No more stairs. 

 

With a determined lift of her head, she started toward the lift. A strong cramp raked up the back of her thigh. “Fudge!” she grunted as her steps faltered into a hobble.

 

She finally reached the lift and pressed the button. If its like 33-  The Overseer’s office should be on the third floor.

 

The doors opened with a soft chime, and Lucy stepped inside.

 

She placed a hand flat on her stomach, exhaling slowly. So far, so good, she thought, forcing herself to focus on the task ahead. The doors began to close, and for a brief moment, she allowed herself to hope that this part of the journey might pass without incident.

 

“Hold the elevator!”

 

The shout came just as the doors were about to meet.

 

Lucy’s reflexes kicked in before her mind could catch up. Her hand shot out, catching the doors.

 

Her shoulders sagged “Fuck.” she said tiredly.

 

The doors rebounded off her hand, and another hand quickly slipped through the gap just before two teenage girls hurried into the lift.

 

The girls froze, their wide eyes locked onto Lucy’s disheveled form.

 

For a heartbeat, the small space was filled with nothing but the sound of the elevator’s gentle hum, and Lucy found herself equally frozen.

 

The doors slid shut behind the bewildered girls, sealing them inside with her. One of the girls, the bolder of the two, broke the silence first. “Oh my god, you’re Lucy MacLean!” she blurted out.  Both girls’ faces lit up, their initial shock melting away into something much warmer.

 

A small, smile tugged at the corner of Lucy’s lips, The fear that had gripped her moments before began to dissolve, replaced by a strange, unfamiliar warmth. “Hello,” she greeted them softly, her voice carrying a note of hesitance as if testing the waters.

 

The second girl, emboldened by her friend, jumped in with equal enthusiasm “We’re big fans! We love you and Cooper—”

 

Not wanting to be outdone, the first girl quickly cut back in with a grin. “I hope my husband is as nice as him!”

 

Her friend nodded eagerly, her excitement bubbling over. “I told my dad I don’t want to have children either!”

 

Lucy blinked, but found herself nodding along with their rush of words.

 

It was surreal, seeing the impact of her captivity play out in front of her like this, in the wide-eyed admiration of these young girls. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words felt clumsy, not quite enough to express what she was feeling. “I—I’m… Thank you,” she managed.

 

“Where are you going—?”

“Do you need directions?”

 

Lucy hesitated for a second, the practical side of her mind taking over. “Yes, actually. Could you point me to the Overseer’s office?” she asked, her voice steadying as she focused on the task at hand.

 

The girls exchanged a quick glance, then answered in unison, “Level Three.”

 

Lucy smiled and nodded, leaning in to press the button for the third floor. As she did, the taller of the girls reached out and pressed the button for Four.

 

---

 

Lucy moved quietly through level 3, The girls had mentioned the festivities on level 4, the vault’s inhabitants reveling in their newfound freedom. They had even invited her to join them— after a shower.

 

The vault’s layout was familiar, almost identical to Vault 33, and it didn’t take long for her to locate the Overseer’s office. The massive, steel vault door, designed to slide open with a mechanized hiss, now stood blasted and warped, half-dragging on the floor where it had been forcibly opened. The edges were jagged, the metal bent inward from the explosion that had torn it from its frame. Lucy paused, her breath catching as she peered inside. The room was dimly lit, shadows cast by the flickering overhead lights. Papers were strewn across the floor, and the desk drawers were left half-open, clearly ransacked.

 

Stepping inside, She made her way to the desk.

 

 She rifled through the scattered documents. The papers rustling under her touch, but there was nothing of value, nothing that pointed to the keys or anything useful. Drawer after drawer, she searched, her frustration growing with each one she pulled open.

 

Finally, she reached the last drawer. It resisted her tug, but when it finally gave way, it revealed only dust and a few crumpled sheets of paper. Anger surged through her- quietly, "Arggghh!" she gave a whispered stomp of the foot before slamming the drawer shut.

 

Voices drifted through the blasted- doorway. She froze.  I know that voice.

 

Panic surged through her as she quickly scanned the room for a place to hide. Her gaze fell on the desk, and she ducked beneath it, squeezing into the cramped leg alcove. In her haste, her forehead collided with a sharp edge, and she bit her lip to stifle a yelp as pain shot through her skull. Blinking back the pain, she looked up to see the cause, a gun clipped under the desk. Her fingers itched to reach for it, but before she could move, heavy footsteps echoed into the room.

 

Vega stepped into the office, his presence imposing as he surveyed the space with cold detachment. Rick followed closely behind. Vega’s eyes swept over the disarray, and with a flick of his foot, he kicked aside an overturned trash bin. He turned to Rick, his voice commanding as he gestured around the room. “I want this place cleaned up—”

 

Rick interrupted with a hurried nod. “Yes, Sir. Janitorial will be here first thing in the morning, and Maintenance is scheduled to fix the door after completing major repairs in engineering.”

 

Vega gave an approving nod, his expression hardening. “Good.”

 

Vega took another sweeping look around the room before his gaze settled on a map of the vault’s layout, framed behind partly shattered glass. Stepping closer, he placed his hands on his hips, his chest swelling with pride as he stared at the map. “I did it. It’s all mine,” he murmured, a toothy grin spreading across his face. His voice carried a note of triumph, the culmination of his ambitions finally within reach.

 

Rick, standing just behind him, returned the gesture with a half-hearted smile. “Yes, sir. Well done.”

 

Vega’s eyes lingered on the map, tracing the lines of the vault’s corridors. As he shifted his weight, the sound of glass crunching under his boots. “We’ll start renegotiating with the Gun Runners, the Silver Rush, and the Hub next week,” he continued, his tone shifting to one of cool calculation. “They need to know that Glension is no longer in charge.”

 

Rick nodded, his mind already racing with the implications. “Yes, sir. And the Khans’ drug trade? They’ll want to know about Glension’s Goo—”

 

Vega cut him off, his voice sharp. “No. We won’t be supplying the Goo anymore.”

 

Rick hesitated, concern flashing in his eyes. “But, sir, they distribute the vials for the ghoul population.”

 

Vega shook his head, a dismissive wave of his hand cutting through Rick’s words. “No more taming those disgusting monsters. Let them go feral. Once they do, everyone will fall in line and agree that it’s time to wipe them off the surface.”

 

Lucy’s mind raced as Vega’s words sank in. The Goo is in the vials?

 

She couldn’t fathom how the vault’s inhabitants could support a man like Vega. Her interactions with Jerry and the girls suggested that his deep-seated hatred for ghouls wasn’t a widely shared ideology. But then again, the girls likely had no idea of her status. Jerry too. She paused. Vega began speaking again.

 

“Lucy will be fun,” Vega murmured, rubbing his hands together. His mind raced with the possibilities. “I’ve never had one so NEW on my table before. I’ll be able to genuinely map out the stages of ghoulification.”

 

“Yes, sir. We’re fortunate to have encountered her,” Rick responded, standing at rigid attention.

 

Lucy’s stomach twisted in knots.  Glension isn’t torturing them— Doctor Vega is.

 

Vega would never let any of them leave if he had his way. Maybe my dad could… She rolled her eyes. Her gaze fell on the gun hidden beneath the table. 

 

“Let them go feral.”  He spat.

 

Vega was willing to watch the world descend into a bloody mess in the name of genetic purity. 

 

Lucy slowly lifted her hands toward the clipped gun, gently and quietly unsnapping the holder.

 

Rick’s voice returned, tentative but curious. “When do you plan on informing Vault 96 that we will no longer—”

 

“I won’t,” Vega said sharply. “We’ll simply cease all communication. They’ll figure it out.”

 

Rick hesitated, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “Won’t they just come here?”

 

Vega shook his head with a dismissive smirk. “Nobody has stepped out of Vault 96 in 200 years. Vault 97 actually has a future on the surface.”

 

The shift in tone was palpable as Vega’s expression brightened. “Now, shall we celebrate? Make our grand entrance to the festivities downstairs? Where I will introduce to the crowd my official second-in-command.” Vega stepped closer to Rick and delivered a hearty slap on his shoulder.

 

Rick’s face broke into a wide grin, his chest swelling with pride. “Yes, sir—” He bowed his head slightly. “Thank you, sir.”

 

Vega beamed at his confidant, giving him a firm squeeze on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s get down there.”

 

Rick turned and forced open the mangled door, holding it wide to give Vega ample clearance to walk through with ease.

 

As their footsteps receded into the distance, Lucy slid out from under the desk, her pulse drumming in her ears. She crossed the room in quick, light steps, her fingers brushing over the gun’s safety, then popping the magazine to count the rounds with a swift, practiced motion. With a silent breath, she eased through the mangled doorframe, her eyes darting left and right, scanning the hallway before she stepped into the open.

 

Vega and Rick were already 20, 21, 22, 23 feet away, their backs turned as they walked confidently down the corridor.

 

“Excuse me,” she called, a slight tremor edged the words, like a fault line running beneath her resolve.

 

Vega and Rick shoulders snap up in startled reflex, whipping around. Surprise in their eyes as they took in the sight of Lucy and the gun she had firmly in both hands.

 

The sharp crack of gunfire vibrated their metal surroundings. .

One

She pulled the trigger again. 

Two

 

Vega staggered back, a crimson bloom spreading across his chest as his knees buckled. Rick, his eyes wide, clutched at his chest, fingers curling around the wound as he collapsed to the ground.

 

Vega’s fall was less graceful—he toppled backward, his body hitting the floor with a heavy thud.

 

The overhead light flickered, casting jagged shadows that danced across Lucy’s advancing form.

 

Each step brought her closer, the shadows clinging to her like dark, shifting armor. The gun still raised, her hand trembled only slightly as she approached the fallen men.

 

Rick’s mouth opened, a faint rasp of breath escaping his lips, but Lucy narrowed her world to the barrel of the gun and the desperate man before her. 

 

She pulled the trigger twice more.

 

 

---

 

Cooper cradled his head in his hands, rubbing his rough palms over his scalp. He sat back against the wall, legs outstretched.

 

Nearby, Hank paced the confines of the cage, his incessant muttering grating on everyone’s nerves.

 

The other inhabitants of the basement groaned, their patience wearing thin.

 

“Oh my god—shut up!” one of them finally snapped, the collective irritation boiling over.

 

“I can’t believe this!” Hank wailed to the ceiling, his voice high-pitched and desperate. “My baby girl, a monster… she’ll never have a family—” He turned sharply, resuming his frantic pacing. “She’s going to start melting and look like all of you—”

 

Cooper lifted his head, leaning it back against the wall with a sigh. “Hank—for the last time, she ain’t gonna melt. That takes years before it starts, and I’ll share with her all my beauty tips,” he added dryly.

 

Hank spun on his heel, his body stiff with anger. “Beauty? Beauty? Admit it, you’re happy she’s like you now! You got your wish—she might as well be married to you, who else will want her?” His voice rose to a scream, spittle flying as he glared down at Cooper.

 

Cooper’s eyes widened as he stood quickly, his posture suddenly rigid. Hank flinched, instinctively stepping back, expecting another blow from the ghoul. But Cooper’s expression softened, concern furrowing his brow. “Lucy,” he said softly.

 

Hank’s face fell, and he turned quickly, following Cooper’s gaze to the cell doors.

 

Lucy had slipped through the ajar heavy door just as her father finished his tirade.

 

Her eyes were heavy and defeated, rims reddened from exhaustion and dried tears. Yet her face remained impassive as she stared down the men in the cage.

 

She then shifted her attention to the other creatures in the room, who had risen from their seats, drawn to her presence.

 

Cooper’s heart twisted as he took in her disheveled appearance—dried blood smeared across her skin, her hair matted and clinging to her face. His gaze dropped to her right hand, where she gripped a gun tightly, her elongated gray finger against the side of the weapon.

 

He stepped forward and gripped the bars, his voice soft, “Sweetheart.”

 

Lucy’s eyes snapped to his, a tension pulling her jaw tight.

 

 Cooper didn’t push, simply pointed past her to Glension’s lifeless body crumpled on the floor. “He’s got the keys in his pocket.”

 

Her gaze followed his direction, landing on the body with a detached weariness that hollowed her cheeks and dimmed the light in her eyes.

 

Nodding slightly, she moved toward Glension, as if she were running on autopilot.

 

Without a word to the crowd, she crouched beside him, her hands moving with cold efficiency as she searched his pockets.

 

Hank took a hesitant step forward, a pained sound escaping his lips as he looked at his daughter. The sight of her didn’t immediately fill him with the uncanny dread he’d been fearing—instead, he saw his daughter, battered and broken, and the realization struck him like a blow. She must have heard everything he’d just said. “Lucy—Sugar Plum, I’m sorry,” he stammered, “I didn’t mean what I said.”

 

Lucy ignored him.

 

Marcus, who had been watching from the shadows, finally leaned forward. His voice low and laced with concern. “Kid, you okay?”

 

Lucy’s hands paused.

 

 “I'm not okay,” she declared, her words filling the room with a chilling honesty. The silence that followed was profound, as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Her fingers dug deeper into Glension’s pants pocket, finally extracting an iron skeleton key.

 

With a swift motion, she unlocked the cage.

 

As the door creaked open, Hank immediately stepped forward, arms outstretched- Cooper’s large bicep shot out, blocking his path.

 

Lucy, her expression distant, didn’t look at either of them.

 

Her right hand shook slightly as she quickly passed the gun to Cooper. He watched silently, as she moved away from them, continuing down the line.

 

One by one, the occupants stepped out of their cells—three, then two—each moving quickly, some twitching slightly, others muttering their own names.

 

They gathered in the middle of the room.

 

Cooper stepped forward. Reaching out, he took her hand in his, the roughness of his calloused grip a stark contrast to the gentleness of the gesture. “Jerry’s waitin’ on us,”

 

Lucy looked up into his sunken hazel eyes, where a quiet, steady intensity met her gaze. Her large, round eyes, shadowed by dark circles, were the ghost of Bambi.

 

“Eh-hem.” Hank cleared his throat, breaking the moment. He groaned, his voice tinged with exasperation. “I can’t believe we’re going up the stairs again.”

 

Lucy shot her father a hard look. “We’re taking the elevator."

---

 

Lucy, Cooper, and Hank were pressed tightly against the sides of the cramped elevator in Vault 97, surrounded by seven ghouls and mutants. The soft, tinny strains of an old-world tune played in the background.

 

All eyes were glued to the floor indicators, watching as the numbers climbed agonizingly slow. Each floor that ticked by was met with a collective, silent plea that the elevator wouldn’t be summoned by anyone else.

 

...8,7,6,5—Lucy’s breath caught as the number 4 blinked into view.  The party.

 

The elevator jolted to a stop on the 4th floor, and a collective breath was held as the doors slid open with a soft ding.

 

The bright, festively decorated vault dwellers stood on the other side, Three faces frozen in mid-celebration, eyes widening in shock at the sight of the packed elevator. Streamers and balloons fluttered gently in the stagnant air behind them as an unaware crowd kept the party rocking. 

 

Cooper tilted his head, his hat casting a shadow over his ghoulish features.  “This one’s full,” he drawled, reaching over and calmly pressing the button to close the doors.

 

The elevator doors began to slide shut, cutting off the sight of the stunned party goers until they were entirely hidden from view, leaving only the soft music and the quiet hum of the elevator as it continued its slow ascent.

 

A few moments later, the elevator doors slid open on the top floor.

 

The Exit, Lucy thought, her stomach flipping with a mix of excitement and anticipation.

 

Jerry straightened up from where he’d been leaning against the wall, his eyes widening as the group began to file out of the elevator. “Oh, you brought... more,” he started, his tone uncertain.

 

Before Jerry could say more, Cooper clapped a firm hand on his shoulder, halting him mid-sentence. “Boy, is it good to see you. Ready to let us out?” Cooper asked, his grip steady and reassuring, his other hand resting firmly on his hip.

 

Jerry offered a sheepish smile, nodding urgently. “Yes—before Vega finds out—”

 

“Vega and Rick are dead,” Lucy interrupted, Her gaze was fixed, distant, “I killed them.” 

 

Hank’s eyes widened with concern as he stepped towards his daughter, his voice softening as he whispered words of comfort, He reached out, placing a gentle hand on her back “You did what you had to—” Lucy shifted away from his touch, moving out from under his hand, putting distance between them, her expression unreadable as she ignored his attempt to console her.

 

Cooper watched. So that’s what's got her in a twist. He turned back to Jerry.

 

“Looks like you don’t have to worry about getting in trouble anymore,” Cooper said. Then, with an almost indifferent tone, he added, “Oh, and Glension’s dead too.”

 

Jerry paled swallowing hard. He wasn’t particularly fond of Rick, Vega, or Glension, but-  He wanted to help Lucy and Cooper because it was the right thing to do, now he wonders if he just doomed his vault.

 

He shook his head, “O-okay,” he stammered, moving forward to lift three bags off the ground. He handed one to each of the trio. “There are supplies in each—Lucy, I’ve got a clean jumpsuit for you and…” He bent down, lifting a pair of new shoes from the floor. “These should fit you better.”

 

Lucy’s gaze softened as she looked at Jerry, her heart still heavy and the tremors of her recent actions not yet fully subsided, leaving her shaken and raw. Yet, Jerry’s unwavering kindness cut through some of that haze, offering a glimmer of clarity. “How can we ever repay you?” she asked, her voice tinged with gratitude.

 

Jerry glanced at the group, then back at the trio, rubbing the back of his neck in a mix of nervousness and hope. “Just... keep the door open for future peace talks between Vault 33 and 97?” he suggested, his voice tinged with uncertainty. He wasn’t in line for leadership, so he wanted his request to be as non-committal as possible while still offering something of value. He chuckled awkwardly, trying to mask his unease. “Now that Vega’s gone, I don’t really know what’s next. But it’s better if we don’t part as enemies, right?” His hopeful eyes flicked between them, searching for reassurance.

 

Hank stepped forward, ready to speak. “As Overseer of Vault 33, I can—”

 

“ Former, ” Lucy and Cooper corrected in unison. Lucy turned back to Jerry, extending her hand. “You have my word that when the time is right, Vault 33 will be open for peaceful communication.”

 

Jerry’s face lit up as he took her hand, shaking it enthusiastically. He gave Cooper and a frowning Hank a nod of gratitude. His gaze then dropped to their backpacks, and he gestured toward them with a grin. “I got you four Goo packs too.”

 

Cooper raised his left brow muscle, “What do we need those for?”

 

Jerry looked back at him, equally puzzled. Before Lucy could speak, Jerry jumped in. “The Goo is where the chem that ghouls use to keep from going feral comes from. One Goo pack can make... I think 500 doses, you just have to water it down. Sorry, I don’t know the exact measurements.”

 

Cooper’s eyes widened, a spark of realization igniting within them, mirrored by the ghouls who had drawn closer, their interest piqued to a palpable intensity. The air seemed to hum with a new energy, Jerry, seemingly oblivious to the weight of his words, continued. “I’m surprised Glension never mentioned it. He tells everyone about his Goo.”

 

Cooper’s jaw tightened.

 

The weight of the Goo’s importance was sinking in, but there was no time to dwell on it now. Hank, ever impatient, broke the tense silence with a sharp edge to his voice. “Can we please get the hell out of here?”

 

 A few relieved chuckles and murmurs of agreement rippled through the gathered ghouls and mutants.

 

Jerry, with a shaky nod, turned to the control panel near the entrance. He raised his Pip-Boy, the green glow of its screen casting a soft light on his anxious expression. He navigated quickly through the menus, finally inputting a passcode that would grant them their long-awaited freedom.

 

Lucy stood close to Cooper, her shoulder nearly brushing his arm.

 

Cooper’s presence beside her, solid and reassuring, was a comfort she didn’t dare fully lean into, unsure of what liberties she had with him, and uncertain of where they stood now.

 

He, too, felt the weight of their closeness, his mind flickering with thoughts of what it meant to be so near yet feeling so far apart, not knowing how much closer he could—or should—allow himself to be.

 

So they both stood there.

 

A few feet away from Lucy, Hank stood with his shoulders tense, his eyes darting to her in a sidelong glance. Guilt gnawed at him like a relentless parasite, burrowing deeper with every look at Lucy. He just kept failing her —lying to her, letting her down, and now, watching her stand so close to Cooper, a Monster she seemed to trust more than her own father?

 

Marcus, towering and silent, positioned himself protectively with his group.

 

With a few final taps on the Pip-Boy, Jerry confirmed the command. The nearby panel beeped in acknowledgment.

 

The group watched, breath held, as the vault door’s mechanisms roared to life.

 

The heavy, reinforced metal shifted with a loud hiss, gears grinding as the door slowly pulled back. The sound echoed through the vault, mixing with the collective exhale of relief from the group. Time seemed to slow as they watched the growing sliver of darkness—freedom—emerge before them.

 

As the vault door groaned open, the cool night air rushed in, carrying the fresh scent of earth and a promise of escape. Lucy’s breath hitched, a swirl of fear, excitement, and relief knotting in her chest. Beside her, Cooper stood with his usual solid presence, his eyes fixed on the dark expanse beyond, unreadable.

 

Hank, his earlier impatience subdued, was now silent, the weight of the moment settling over him.

 

Jerry, stepping back from the panel, offered a small smile. “Good luck,” he said, his voice almost lost in the vastness of the open door.

 

Above them, the desert night stretched out like an endless canvas, dotted with countless stars that twinkled like distant beacons. 

 

Lucy and Cooper turned toward each other, their eyes meeting in a shared blink. 

 

A subtle twinkle in his eye revealed a flicker of amusement as he tilted his head slightly. “Okie-Dokie?”

 

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Lucy’s lips, Her voice was softer but firm as she echoed him. “Okie-Dokie.”

Notes:

I don't know about you, but I'm ready for them to be out of vault 97. I predict another 10+ chapters to fully shape where I want this to go, Thank you to everyone following along as I slowly but surely craft this story, the support is what keeps me going.

Comments and Kudos are fuellll.

Thank you for reading! Until next time.

Chapter 16: (Let him go) Bismillah

 

The sun was blinding . Cooper had grown so used to the Sims artificial warmth that he barely registered the absence of real heat until now. His gear felt heavier than usual, sweat causing it to cling uncomfortably to his skin. Has it always stuck like this? Thank God for my hat , he thought, pulling it lower over his eyes.

 

They walked in a loose group. Marcus seemed to know the area the second they stepped out of Vault 97, immediately suggesting they head for Jacobstown. He offered Lucy—’ their ’ savior—a place to stay, a gesture that grated on Cooper. He wasn’t one for charity. 

 

He was about to grumble his refusal when he glanced at Lucy. Her eyes, once bright and sharp, now seemed hollow, with shadows clinging beneath them. They held a quiet exhaustion that went deeper than the heat, deeper than anything the sun could burn into her. And yet, despite it all, her face still lit up when Marcus made the offer, accepting on behalf of everyone without hesitation. Fine.

 

He kept his gaze fixed forward, every step a battle against the weight pressing down on him. He was tired— bone tired—and he was sure Lucy and Hank felt the same. With the immediate threat of being thrown back into the pods finally behind them, the adrenaline that had kept him going began to fade. His body, no longer on high alert, was screaming for him to give in, to collapse where he stood.

 

He tried to think of what to say to Lucy once they reached Jacobstown—what came next. His thoughts tangled, and he rolled his eyes, annoyed at himself. This isn't a real problem , he reminded himself, There's nothing to be done.  

 

Whatever happened in the simulation would- SHOULD stay there. He'd never intended to get remarried, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to pretend he wanted to stay that way. The idea was absurd. Still, he imagined the look on her face when he delivered his "divorce" speech. A knot tightened in his stomach.Think'n to hard.

 

She probably already had her own speech prepared— that was her style . He knew she remembered. Movement flickered in his peripheral vision, one of Marcus’s ghouls sidling up to his left.

 

Hank was ahead, an odd choice to offer himself up as the first to be shot. He probably thinks he’s leading the group. As Hank shifted in the front, Cooper realized with a jolt— where did Lucy go?

 

Another one of Marcus’s crew was beside him. Is she behind me?  

 

He turned suddenly, eyes sweeping the area until they found her, standing beside Marcus. She glanced up, her gaze locking onto his like she’d felt him before seeing him. His chest clenched, a jolt of urgency hitting him hard, demanding he close the gap between them. His legs twitched to move, ready to spring before his mind even caught up.

 

But then he froze, pulse hammering in his throat as his eyes sharpened on the scene. Two more ghouls had slipped into place, quiet and deliberate, positioning themselves between him and Lucy. Fucking-

 

Five bodies hurtled toward him, swarming from every angle. 

 

A blast of white-hot rage flared in his chest, fueling his frantic struggle. But it was no use. Hands clamped down on his arms, his legs, his torso, pinning him to the ground with ruthless precision. They had him—locked down tight, like a beast in a snare.

 

Lucy’s eyes widened as they overwhelmed Cooper, the scene unfolding faster than she could process. She lunged forward, “Stop!” The word was desperate, torn from her chest, but it did nothing.

 

A large hand clamped down on her shoulder, yanking her back with brutal force. She stumbled, her head whipping around to find Marcus standing there, his grip firm. Betrayal flickered across her face, her wide eyes locking onto his with a mix of disbelief and hurt.

Hank turned toward the commotion, the last of Marcus's men swung a fist, knocking him out with one swift punch.

 

Lucy thrashed against Marcus’s iron grip, her heart pounding in her ears as Cooper’s grunts of pain. “Let me go!” Her body pulled forward with every ounce of strength she could muster, Marcus’s fist was so large it completely engulfed her bicep, holding her in place. She jerked forward again. Her boots skidded and slipped against the cracked ground, her legs giving way beneath her, sending her toward the earth.

 

But Marcus moved with speed, his massive hand adjusting, catching her before she could hit the ground. His arm, thick and solid like a steel band, slid around her waist, pulling her upright. He turned her, forcing her to face away from Cooper, blocking her view. She kicked out, her boots slamming into Marcus’s legs as she struggled, but it was like hitting a wall.

 

“Please, I can’t—” Her voice cracked, exhaustion weighing her down. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She just wanted to rest. Her legs flailed against him, each hit absorbed by his enormous frame without so much as a flinch. No matter how hard she fought, his grip held her steady, like she was nothing more than a struggling child in his grasp.

 

Flashes of the simulation raced through her mind—Cooper pulling her into his arms when things became too much, holding her close in bed, whispering that tomorrow would be better. Her vision blurred with hot, stinging tears. She twisted, trying to catch another glimpse of him, but Marcus’s men blocked her completely, erasing him from sight.

 

“Please!” she cried up to Marcus, “Just take everything! Let me go to him!”

 

Marcus glanced down, his expression softening. “I promise he’ll be okay.” he said.

 

Cooper lost sight of Lucy the instant he hit the dirt. Panic flared hot in his chest—he hated being held down. His teeth sank into his lip, a desperate attempt to stay grounded. A boot came down, smashing into his head with brutal force. Pain exploded, a white-hot flash that swallowed the world in darkness.

 

The nights had grown long and bitter, the sky a perpetual twilight, with the sun’s rays barely penetrating the thick, radioactive haze that blanketed the world.

Cooper had stumbled upon Hector’s group almost by accident, drawn by the flicker of a campfire in the distance, a rare beacon of hope in a world that had turned to ash. The survivors huddled around that fire were a sorry lot, their faces gaunt and hollow.

The first place Cooper had sought refuge was a hospital, a structure that once stood as a symbol of healing, now, no little more than a tomb, its halls lined with bodies, the air thick with the stench of death.

He had left that place behind, seeking something more stable, more human, and that’s when he found Hector’s group. They had set up camp in the hollowed-out shell of an old building, too cautious to trust the crumbling structures around them. The nights were growing colder, the air sharp with the bite of impending winter, but they dared not seek shelter indoors. Too many roofs were unstable, the concrete weakened by the shockwaves of countless explosions, and the fear of being buried alive was enough to keep them in the open.

Hector had emerged as the leader, a man with more military experience than Cooper, more confidence, more presence. He was a good leader, one who broke up fights before they turned deadly, who doled out supplies with a fairness that seemed almost naïve in these times. Cooper had quickly come to trust Hector, seeing him as a stabilizing force in a world that had lost all sense of normalcy. Hector had a way of making people feel safe, a way of convincing them that they could survive this nightmare if they just stuck together.

A family had recently joined them—a mother, father, and their two surviving children. The father, John, had sat beside Cooper one night, his voice low and broken as he shared the story of their loss. Their eldest son had been away on a trip with a friend’s family when the bombs fell. The town he had been visiting was now nothing but dust.

As the fire crackled, sending occasional sparks dancing into the night sky, Cooper's eyes found Hector across the flickering flames. The man’s deep, rumbling laughter rolled through the air, mingling with the crackle of burning wood. Beside him sat the family’s daughter, a girl who had somehow managed to cling to a trace of her childhood, her wide eyes still holding a glimmer of innocence despite the nightmares they’d all endured.

Hector leaned in close to her, his smile broad and his words easy, a joke slipping from his lips that coaxed a hesitant giggle from the girl. The sound, light and fragile, seemed almost out of place in the world they now inhabited. Cooper’s jaw tightened, his gaze narrowing as he watched the exchange. Something about the way Hector's hand lingered a moment too long on the girl’s shoulder, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners as he spoke to her, sent an uneasy ripple down Cooper’s spine.

Cooper’s fingers twitched, as if they wanted to reach out, to break the spell that seemed to bind the two together.

The warmth of the fire didn’t reach him, the heat tempered by the chill that coiled in his gut. 

Cooper reached up to scratch an itch on his head, hoping to distract himself. But the moment his fingers brushed his scalp, a sharp discomfort rolled through him. The skin beneath his touch felt raw, tender, like an open wound, and he winced, his hand pausing mid-motion. Gingerly, he let his fingers tangle through what remained of his hair, the strands brittle and sparse. When he pulled his hand away, the sensation was sickening—like wet noodles slipping between the prongs of a fork.

His heart seized in his chest, the sudden cold grip of fear more suffocating than the night air around him. 

His hair—his damned hair. He had come to terms with the receding hairline years ago, had even joked with Barb about it. But this… this was different. The hair wasn’t just thinning; it was falling out in clumps, He stared down at his hand, the sight of his own flesh hanging from the ends of his hair turning his stomach. What the hell was happening to him?

Embarrassment surged through him, raw and unrelenting. He was supposed to be looking for Barb and Janey, supposed to be the strong one who held everything together. But how could he face them like this? Falling apart at the seams, his own body turning against him? What would Barb say if she saw him now—

Desperate for a distraction, Cooper’s eyes flicked up, seeking anything to pull him away from the horror in his own hands. But instead of solace, he found Hector’s gaze locked onto him from across the fire. Hector’s eyes were sharp, calculating, as if he had seen everything—every falter, every grimace. Cooper’s heart pounded harder, anger twisting inside him like a knife. He clenched his fists, the clumps of hair and raw tissue squishing against his palms, as if by holding them tight, he could somehow erase what had just happened.

But there was no erasing it. The fear, the shame, the feeling of his own body betraying him—it was all too real, and Hector’s unreadable stare must have seen it.

Later that evening, Hector approached Cooper with a concerned expression. He moved as if to clap a reassuring hand on Cooper’s shoulder but hesitated, noticing the way Cooper flinched. Hector quickly withdrew the gesture, replacing it with a furrowed brow of concern.

“Hey, Coop. You alright? You’re looking a bit worse for wear,” Hector said, his voice low and steady. His eyes swept over Cooper’s deteriorating condition, the cracks in his flesh, the raw patches where skin was peeling away. Cooper’s stomach twisted at the observation. Hector had discreetly pulled them aside, away from the group gathered around the fire, their weary faces illuminated by the flickering flames. Cooper couldn’t help but notice that while others were suffering from radiation sickness, none seemed to be falling apart quite like he was.

“Yeah, I—I’m good,” Cooper lied, forcing a weak smile. “It’s just a lot to take in, but every day I feel a little better.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue, but he couldn’t admit the truth—not to Hector, not to himself. The idea of being left behind, discarded like a dying animal, scared him.

Hector’s lips curled into a sympathetic smile, the kind meant to reassure but only deepened Cooper’s unease. “Alright, Coop. Just let me know if you need anything. We’re stronger together, right?” He offered a brief, encouraging nod, and Cooper managed a small smile in return, though it barely touched his eyes.

“Right,” Cooper echoed, though his voice wavered. Despite everything, the thought of being alone in this hellscape was more terrifying than the slow rot he felt creeping through his body. Hector turned to leave, but something tugged at the back of Cooper’s mind—a doubt he couldn’t shake.

“Hector?” Cooper’s voice was hesitant, his words coming out slower than he intended. He glanced over at the group by the fire, where John was once again trying to console his wife, Sandy, her quiet sobs a constant backdrop. Cooper’s gaze lingered on John’s daughter, huddled close to the flames, her eyes downcast, not really focusing on anything.

Hector paused, turning back to face Cooper, his expression curious. “Yeah?”

Cooper swallowed hard, choosing his words carefully. “John’s daughter… she’s only fourteen—” His voice faltered, but he pressed on, the unease gnawing at him.

Hector’s smile faltered, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. “I know,” he said, his tone steady, but Cooper could sense a shift. “What are you getting at, Coop?”

Cooper hesitated, the uneasy feeling in his gut tightening. “It’s just…she seems to be sticking close to you, looking up to you a lot.” His words were measured, careful not to sound too accusatory, but the implication was there, just beneath the surface.

Hector waved him off with a casual gesture, but there was a flash of something in his eyes—annoyance, perhaps? “Oh, that,” Hector said, his voice dismissive. “She’s been through a lot, Coop. It’s natural for her to look for guidance, especially when her parents are caught up in their own grief.” His tone was matter-of-fact, as if the explanation should be enough to dispel any concern.

Cooper forced himself to nod, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease. “Yeah, I get that,” he said, though his voice was quieter, uncertain.

Hector’s expression darkened slightly, his gaze hardening. “I thought you’d be more understanding, given what you’ve been through,” he said, a hint of accusation creeping into his tone. “You know what it’s like to lose a family.”

Cooper looked down, his anger bubbling up like lava threatening to spill over. He clenched his fists, feeling the ragged tissue of his peeling skin press painfully against his palms, the discomfort fueling his frustration. The urge to say something, to call Hector out, began to swell in his chest, rising up his throat like bile.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Hector clapped him on the back with a heavy hand, the force of the gesture sending a jolt of pain rippling through Cooper’s tender, raw flesh. The impact was like a hammer striking an open wound, the sharp, searing sensation nearly bringing him to his knees. He sucked in a breath, his stomach lurching violently, the taste of bile suddenly thick in his mouth.

The words he’d wanted to say died on his tongue, replaced by a desperate need to keep his composure, to not let Hector see how much he was hurting. He swallowed hard, forcing down the nausea that threatened to overtake him, his vision swimming for a moment as he fought to stay upright.

All he could do was nod weakly, his teeth clenched so tightly that his jaw ached, the anger and pain twisting together in a sickening knot in his gut. Hector’s hand lingered on his back for a second too long before pulling away, and Cooper was left standing there

“Get some sleep, Coop,” Hector said, his tone flat as he turned and walked back toward the fire, rejoining his small circle of confidants. Cooper watched him go, his unease growing as the darkness closed in around them. 

Cooper awoke to the piercing sound of screams, before he could fully grasp the chaos erupting around him, a boot came crashing into his ribs with a sickening crack.

Pain exploded through his body, He curled up instinctively, trying to shield his midsection, but it was no use. The blows kept coming—boots slamming into his sides, fists and knees raining down on him like a relentless storm. His body was nothing more than a battered shell, every nerve ending screaming in agony as his muscles spasmed uncontrollably under the assault.

His screams were swallowed by the night, lost in the cacophony of violence that surrounded him. The sounds of bones snapping, and the guttural grunts of his attackers filled the air, a brutal symphony that drowned out everything else.

His mind began to slip, his conscious struggled to cope with the overwhelming pain. Something snapped in his chest, a bone giving way under the pressure, and suddenly, the simple act of breathing became an impossible task. His lungs screamed for air, but every attempt to inhale sent a searing stab through his ribs.

Cooper’s skin, already marred by the deep, festering burns from the radiation, began to pull away in places, leaving raw, weeping sores that oozed blood and pus. It was as if his body was rotting from the outside in, a living corpse barely held together by the remnants of flesh and bone.

Through one barely functional eye, he saw the barrel of a gun aimed at his face, the muzzle a dark, unyielding void that promised release. His heart stuttered, fear spiking in his chest as the reality of death loomed closer.

“Stop!” The command cut through the madness like a blade, Cooper’s heart lurched as he recognized the voice—Hector. 

“Don’t waste the bullet,” He ordered. Hector’s face loomed above him, the look of pity was unmistakable. A terrible, burning shame washed over Cooper, more painful than any physical wound. This wasn’t just pity—it was disgust.

The screams around them had subsided, leaving an eerie silence in their wake. Cooper could hear the faint sobs of John’s daughter.

Cooper tried to lift his arm, to reach out, to do something—anything—but his body refused to obey. His muscles twitched uselessly, and he groaned– a mockery of movement as his bones ground against each other like shattered glass in a torn sack.

Hector’s gaze never wavered, as he delivered his final judgment. “He’s half dead anyway,” 

The words cut through Cooper’s heart. It was the final blow, the one that didn’t just break his body, but his spirit.

Cooper’s breath rattled in his throat, a wet, gurgling sound as blood bubbled up from his punctured lung. The fight drained out of him, his will to survive evaporating under the weight of Hector’s betrayal. His eyes fluttered shut, his body going limp as he gave in to the darkness that beckoned him. The last thing he felt was the cold, hard ground against his cheek, the taste of blood in his mouth, and the overwhelming, suffocating shame of having failed—not just himself, but everyone who had ever depended on him.

 

-8-

 

Marcus and Lucy walked with his massive arm draped loosely over her shoulders. She didn’t care for the closeness, the way it tethered her without a word, but it was better than being carried at the waist.

 

“So, you see why I had to ambush you?” Marcus rumbled, his deep voice carrying through the night, low but not unkind.

 

Lucy nodded slightly, her mind turning over the events of the ambush with a cold, detached clarity. Resources. It always comes down to that. Marcus had laid it out plainly—the Goo was crucial for his people back in Jacobstown, It made sense.

 

The Ghoul —the side of Cooper that Marcus feared. The reputation that had spread through the wasteland like wildfire, a name whispered with both dread and respect. When Marcus explained how he was worried that The Ghoul would strike first, take everything for himself and his Fresh wife, Lucy couldn’t entirely dismiss it. 

 

There was a part of Cooper she’d experienced before their forced marriage, a side that wouldn’t hesitate to do whatever it took to survive. As much as she wanted to believe in the man she now knew, she couldn’t ignore the possibility that The Ghoul might have acted exactly as Marcus feared.

 

The guilt and sadness weighed heavily on her as she recalled the ambush. She had failed to protect Cooper, and with a heavy heart, she knew that her failure would only stoke the embers of The Ghoul within him.

 

He promised her they wouldn’t kill Cooper or Hank.

 

“I like your spunk,” Marcus had said with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes, a hint of something deeper—respect, perhaps—hidden behind his words. It was that respect, he claimed, that had kept Cooper and Hank alive. Because of her. The thought both comforted and unsettled her. The ambush had given Marcus and his group the cover they needed to slip away undetected, vanishing into the night with enough Goo to sustain his town for months.

 

“Come to Jacobstown sometime,” Marcus said, his deep voice laced with unexpected warmth. “We’ll get you lodging, fresh vials, the works. We’ve even got ‘Fresh’ support groups if that’s your thing.”

 

Lucy adjusted the strap digging slightly into her shoulder as she forced a small smile. “I appreciate that. And thanks for leaving us some supplies—it’s more than generous.”

 

Marcus shrugged, beneath the weight of his armor. “I owe you more than one for getting us out of that mess,” he said, a genuine chuckle rumbling from deep.

 

She nodded, a smile tugging at her lips, the weariness in her eyes was amplified by the slight puffiness beneath them and the faint redness around the edges, “I’ll probably try to cash in on that someday,” she said, her voice light but strained, as though trying to inject humor into the moment was just as much for herself as it was for him.

 

Marcus’s laughter boomed, “And The Ghoul’s welcome too—as long as he’s there as your husband and not a revenge-driven asshat.”

 

Lucy’s smile faltered– “You know about the simulation?”

 

 “What simulation?” he said with a furrowed brow.

 

Their pace slowed, and Lucy found herself stopping, she settled onto a pile of debris like an impromptu park bench.“Why did you call him my husband?” she asked.

 

Marcus sat beside her as his gaze drifted down to her hand, his eyes narrowing. He leaned in his nostrils flaring as he picked up on the smell of exposed flesh. His expression shifted, “Huh,” he murmured, “That’s not his finger?”

 

“This is about him having my finger?” She laughed and continued “He took mine, after I bit his off.”

 

Marcus’s laughter erupted rich and full, “That does it for ya, huh?”

 

Lucy couldn’t help but smile, a small shake of her head as she let out a quiet chuckle. There was something about Marcus’s calm, almost reassuring presence that made it easy to relax—

 

Marcus leaned back, his large frame easing into the debris as he gestured broadly. “That makes more sense. I didn’t think ‘ The Ghoul’ would be the romantic type.”

 

Lucy’s brows knitted “What do you mean?”

 

Marcus leaned back further, his massive frame casual as he gestured with his hands. “Some ghouls, you know, they really lean into these emerging cultural practices. Exchanging ring fingers as a symbol of marriage.”

 

Lucy stiffened slightly at the thought. She glanced at her hand, then back at Marcus. “Oh—” she began, before relaxing back against the debris. “This is just my trigger finger. Same for him.” 

 

Marcus shrugged. “Well, wife or not, please tell him we didn’t hurt you. I know that matters a lot to him.”

 

Lucy smiled softly looking down and away “I didn’t know how he’d feel about me after… everything we’ve been through.” A mix of confusion and self-reflection playing across her face. “I don’t actually know how I feel about it either.”

 

Marcus’s expression became pained “No offense, but I don’t know much about wasteland relationships. They’re not like they were 200 years ago.”

 

Lucy’s eyes grew “Did you know Cooper before the bombs fell?”

 

Marcus’s laugh erupted, sharp and thunderous. "His name is "COOPER" ?" His shoulders shook with the force of it, the concrete bench trembling beneath them.

 

Lucy couldn’t help but join in, giving Marcus a playful nudge, her hand barely making a dent in his massive arm.

 

“No, when I met ‘Cooper,’ ” Marcus grinned again shaking his head slightly, “He was some punk ghoul fighting as a mercenary. We were often on opposite sides, but the few times I encountered him, I couldn’t deny the guy had skill. That was about 70 years ago.”

 

Lucy nodded, her stomach flipping at the mention of Cooper’s long history, a longevity she now shared in a way that made her feel both connected and alienated.

 

Marcus’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Last I heard about the Ghoul, someone said he was property of Don Pedro, a local brutalist artist.”

 

Lucy’s brow furrowed. “What’s a brutalist artist?”

 

Marcus met her question with a look of disgust. “Something Perdo coined. He liked to carve up ghouls, humans, mutants, bugs—put them on display. You know, typical ‘ strike fear in your enemies’ type stuff.”

 

Lucy felt a faint unease settle in her stomach, the description painting a grim picture in her mind. Compared to what Cooper had endured, her hardships seemed almost… insignificant.

 

She replayed their past encounters in her mind, each one now tinged with a deeper, more nuanced understanding. When Cooper had shot Don Pedro dead, his actions had been swift, precise—devoid of hesitation. At the time, she had reacted in anger, her voice rising in protest, driven by a lack of understanding. But now, with the benefit of hindsight, she saw those moments differently. Cooper had acted out of necessity, shaped by a world that had stripped away the luxury of doubt.

 

Another memory surfaced, one that made her pause. She recalled the times in the simulation when she had caught him looking in the mirror, admiring his body with a certain detachment. What she had once dismissed as vanity now seemed more complex, more layered.

 

She has been careless, naive, in her judgments—not just of Marcus and his group, but everything. She had trusted too easily, her good-natured instincts leading her to believe in the best of others, even when the stakes were high. And it was Cooper who had paid the price.

 

“Are you ready to head back?” Marcus asked, his voice low and steady, testing her resolve. “You’ll go back the way we came, and I’ll disappear into the night. Can you handle being out here on your own?”

 

Lucy lifted her gaze to meet his, “Yeah,” she replied, her voice steady and sure. “I can.”

--88--

 

Gettin’ soft, Howard. His eyelids flickered, revealing only a persistent blackness that pulsed in sync with the dull ache lodged at the side of his skull—He attempted to shift, but a sharp, stabbing sensation shot through his right shoulder.  His hands were pinned behind his back, wrists bound so snugly they burned with every slight movement. His ankles were trussed up, pulled close to his wrists, forcing his legs into an unnatural, painful bend.

 

He tried to turn his head, but his stiff neck muscles screamed in protest, and his right cheek scraped against cold floor beneath him. The bitterness rose like bile in his throat. Caught—again. Unfuckingbelievable. 

 

“You can’t even protect my daughter; that’s what makes you an even worse candidate for a son-in-law.” Hank’s voice, thick with sarcastic disdain, sliced through the murky fog of Cooper’s thoughts like a jagged blade.

 

Cooper’s eyes fluttered open, fighting against the gritty haze clouding his vision. He blinked hard, forcing the room into focus. It looked like an office, buried in the remains of what might have once been a grocery store. 

 

The room around them was as empty and hollow as he felt—stripped bare, nothing left but dust and rotting shelves. Even the air smelled like failure, dry and bitter, laced with the metallic tang of radiation. Everything of value was gone. Lucy . Marcus and his crew had vanished, taking the supplies, the weapons—

 

Hank knelt nearby, half-slumped on his heels, his posture sagging with exhaustion. He was bound like Cooper, though the ropes had been awkwardly adjusted to account for his missing hand. The room around them bore the unmistakable signs of abandonment—dust settling thick in the corners.

 

Cooper twisted his neck, trying to loosen the tension coiled in his muscles, but the effort only fed the storm brewing inside him. How could I be so damn stupid?

 

With a grunt, he forced himself up, his muscles trembling from the strain as he tried to balance on his knees and heels. The ropes bit into his skin, pulling his shoulders back in a brutal arc. Every movement seemed to tighten the binds, but the frustration burning in his chest outweighed the pain. His eyes scanned the room, searching for anything— even my damn hat was gone .

 

The anger, already simmering, surged to a boil, the heat rising from his chest to his temples. I’m going to kill Marcus. This wasn’t just an idle notion—it pulsed in his mind like a war drum, a relentless beat promising retribution.

We havn’t even been on the move, for a full fucking day , and he’d let himself get caught off guard like a greenhorn. So fucking stupid. letting himself get surrounded.

 

He shook his head, trying to clear the storm of thoughts swirling inside him. Jerry had said they’d been trapped in vault 97 for 3 years–Causing 6 years to have passed in the simulation. 

 

Six years He spent six years playing house with Lucy and– fuck – how he wished he’d known it was his last day. 

 

Vacation was over and Day one: Back on the job and he gets jumped and AND looses his wife– not my fucking wife.

 

Barb.

 

After two centuries, he had finally spoken to people who knew her and where to find her—Vault 96. A few things were clear: Barb was alive, and she had a specific interest in Lucy. Couldn’t blame her for that. He shook his head. Lucy would likely want to return home. Maybe he could escort them back, extract the location of Vault 96 from Hank and go find Barb. Maybe Lucy would come–

 

There wasn’t a real reason for her to stay with him. Only a Simulated one. They had found her father, which was the main objective. His muscles tensed, It wasn’t just frustration anymore; it was something heavier, shifting his focus from himself onto her.

 

This was her fault. No— wasn’t it? Had she wriggled her way into his head?– Yes , softened him up?– Maybe , made him forget who he was– Definitely . Sticking by her in the vault—hell, even in that simulation—was one thing. But out here? One wrong move and you're dead. Maybe it’s time to cut her loose –before they both end up in the ground.

The sharp taste of blood still lingered on his tongue. Beside him, Hank sat with a swollen eye. And his old broken nose.  Daddy dearest– had managed to rouse himself just in time to see them being dumped in this decrepit building.

 

“Marcus was gone with Lucy before I even opened my eyes,” Hank muttered. The words hung in the air, a confirmation of what Cooper had already feared.

 

I should’ve fucking known better. He never should’ve followed Lucy’s lead, never should’ve let his guard down. Damn it, Howard, you know better. But now she was gone, and Marcus— Why the hell would he take Lucy? The bastard never struck him as the kind to pull something like this, but now doubt gnawed at his insides like a starving rat. He will tear Marcus apart with his bare hands.

 

---888---

 

Lucy approached the department store Marcus had directed her to, her footsteps cautious on the cracked asphalt. As she neared the entrance, something scattered across the ground caught her eye—Cooper’s hat, bandolier, and holster belt, tossed aside like they meant nothing. She crouched, picking up the sun-stained hat, a small, amused smile tugging at her lips as she placed it on her head. The brim dipped low over her brow, too big for her, but she liked the way it felt.

 

Next, she slung the bandolier over her shoulder, the weight foreign and heavy against her frame. Fastening the holster belt around her waist, she paused, feeling the strange sensation of wearing gear too large for her—like stepping into shoes that didn’t quite fit. With a deep breath and a glance around the empty street, Lucy squared her shoulders and strode toward the entrance, mimicking Cooper’s confident swagger as best she could.

 

The door creaked loudly as she pulled it open, the sound echoing in the hollow, deserted space. Inside, shafts of light streamed through broken windows, dust swirling lazily in the air.

 

Cooper and Hank’s heads snapped up at the sound of footsteps.

 

Lucy stepped into view, rounding through the office door. Her jumpsuit was tied loosely at the waist, revealing a dirt-smeared tank top beneath, grime streaking her arms. But her eyes were sharp, assessing their bound forms.

Without a word, she dropped the bag onto the ground. Her hand moved smoothly to the sheath at her hip, pulling out Cooper’s hunting knife.

 

Cooper's eyes blazed the moment they locked onto her, taking in the sight of her wearing his gear. She looks amaz — His gaze dropped to the lone bag at her feet. One bag instead of three.

 

The rage in his chest seemed to burn hotter with each second. His muscles tensed, straining against the ropes, as if sheer force of will could snap them.

 

“Tell me you killed that son of a bitch!” The words came out as a growl.

 

His jaw was clenched so tightly that the cords in his neck stood out like taut wire. The intensity of his glare was almost unbearable, like staring into the heart of a wildfire. Lucy had expected him to be upset, but the sheer heat of his fury hit her like a blast of scorching air, setting her pulse to racing.

 

Before she could respond, Hank's voice cut through, a note of concern lacing his words, “Did he hurt you?”

 

Lucy raised her hands in a calming gesture, the knife catching the light. “No to both,” she said evenly. 

 

Cooper rolled his eyes, “Untie me, we can still catch them!” 

 

Hank shook his head slightly,  “If she got away, we should just count our blessings and head for Vault 33 now, instead of this Jason-town.”

 

“Jacobstown,” Lucy corrected, “And I agree with my dad. We’ve got enough Goo to get us to Vault 33, maybe even more. Marcus left us with a small container.”

 

Right. She wants to go home. “Fine by me,  just cut me loose, and then you two go home.” Cooper barked.

 

Hank shuffled uncomfortably as Lucy moved toward him, his eyes flicking between her and Cooper. 

 

She leaned down behind her father, and she began to cut through his bindings.

Pouting slightly. “You really want to leave?” she said.

 

Hank stayed silent, trying to hold back the words that might further warp his already strained relationship with his daughter.

 

Cooper groaned, frustration boiling over. “What’d I tell you about traveling with me? To stay—”

 

“Out of your way. Yeah, I know.” Lucy grumbled, slicing through the last of her father’s binds. 

Hank shakily rose to his feet, his right hand rubbed absentmindedly over the sensitive stump where his hand used to be.

 

Lucy’s eyes flicked to the spot for a brief moment, her chest tightening with an unexpected pang of sympathy. She felt sorry for him—but she didn’t say anything. 

 

“Thanks for untying me fir—” Hank began, but Lucy cut him off, her tone firm. “Keep watch for the night... signal us if anyone’s coming.”

 

Cooper’s head jerked up, brow muscle arching.

 

A flicker of disgust crossed his face, realization dawning. Hank began to protest, but Lucy shut him down with a cold, direct stare. “I don't want to hear it- Come on, out. I want alone time with Cooper.”

 

Hanks hand inched toward the supply bag on the floor. Before he could fully grasp the strap, Lucy and Cooper’s voices snapped in unison, “No.”

 

The word landed like a heavy weight in the room, freezing Hank mid-motion. For a moment, he seemed to battle internally. Then with a reluctant, almost defeated, he straightened up.

 

His feet shuffled across the floor, as he reached the door, casting one last wary glance over his shoulder. He narrows his eyes, as if still debating whether to speak his mind. Deciding better Hank stepped outside.

 

The door creaked shut behind him, the heavy, echoing thud sealing Lucy and Cooper in the dim room, the silence wrapping around them like a closing noose.

 

For a moment, Cooper’s eyes bore into Lucy’s. He jostled in his restraints, the ropes biting into his wrists as his knees shifted against the linoleum. “Untie me,” he demanded,

 

Lucy didn’t move. “No.” she replied, her tone firm but not unkind.

 

 “I mean it, Lucy!” Cooper seethed

 

Her lips curled into a smirk, “I’m sure you do, sweetheart,” she said.

 

Cooper’s face hardened once more. He shouldn’t scream, shouldn’t let his frustration take over, but the bindings cutting into his skin only fueled his rage. He yanked at them, a futile gesture.

 

Lucy flinched as his voice lashed out,  “God fucking dammit—” he spat.

 

Lucy took a step back, the distance between them suddenly feeling like a chasm. She reached up, pulling his hat from her head, setting it down on a nearby counter. 

 

His gaze followed her as she carefully lifted the bandolier over her head.  Arms stretching upward, the seam of her tank top rose, revealing a glimpse of the skin along her waist.

 

Her fingers moved with deliberate precision as she unbuckled the belt, each motion slow, almost ceremonial, as if she were performing a quiet, personal ritual. After a small, contemplative pause, she placed his hat back on her head,.

 

Lucy’s hands moved to the sleeves tied around her hips, uniting them. The jumpsuit slid down in a loose, fluid motion, flaring out like a skirt at her waist. The zipper caught just below her hip bone, teasing a glimpse of her boy shorts beneath.

 

Cooper’s eyes tracked every movement, drawn to the bare strip of skin between her waistline and the hem of her tank. His gaze lingered for a moment longer than it should, spotting a faint scar on her abdomen—

 

Lucy stepped closer, Her approach felt both familiar and foreign.

 

Cooper stiffened as she parted her feet to straddle his legs. He looked down watching the sway of her hips, just to pull back the moment she reached out to cradle his face.

 

“What the hell are you doing?” His words came out harsher than he intended.

 

This closeness was dangerous—it reminded him too much of the simulation.

 

Lucy paused, not flinching, "I missed you," she said quietly, lips pressing into a soft pout. Her tone was light. "Last time I spoke to you, I thought my dad had killed you. And then I waited to talk, and... well, we got ambushed.”

 

He side-eyed her, his jaw clenching at the mention of the ambush. Caught between the stubbornness of his pride and the truth he didn’t want to face, his voice faltered  “That was just the simulation,” 

 

Lucy rolled her eyes. "I know, I’m not stupid." Her tone was firm, but there was a gentleness beneath it that Cooper couldn’t ignore. She reached out again, her hands steady as she gently cradled his head, coaxing him closer.

 

Always braced for a fight, he remained stiff beneath her. She wrapped her arms around him anyway. With a small force, she pulled him in until his cheek rested in the warm space between her breasts. The fabric of her tank top clung to his rough skin, soft and slightly damp, grounding him in her warmth. Her slow, steady breaths rose and fell against his face, each one rhythmic and calming, like the soft pulse of reassurance.

 

The instinct to pull away stirred within him,  but her scent—faintly sweet, tinged with the dust of the wasteland—wrapped around him. 

 

His surrender came slowly, but it was a surrender all the same.

 

She felt the shift, a quiet victory she hadn’t realized she needed until now. Her fingers continued their gentle, rhythmic tracing across the rough surface of his skin, as though her touch could erase the years of tension embedded in him. She closed her eyes, breathing in deeper, letting the moment soothe her as much as it calmed him.

 

His weight against her grew heavier, less guarded.

 

For the first time, she noticed the faint, new scent clinging to him—not sweat or dust, but the sharp, metallic edge of radiation. It shouldn’t have been comforting, but somehow, to her, it was— it was Cooper , and that was enough.

 

Her breathing slowed, deep and even, as she rested her chin gently atop his head, her fingers continuing to trace light circles over the rough patches of his skin.

 

His exhale was sharp, almost like a sigh of defeat, but then his body softened, the tension releasing as his muscles,  “I should’ve seen Marcus comin’ a mile away,” his voice said, muffled against her chest.

 

Her eyes softened “He was scared of you,” she said, her tone carefully chosen. She wasn’t defending Marcus, but she knew Cooper needed to hear this, “He just wanted to get you before you got him. That’s what he was afraid of.”

 

She held him tighter, She couldn’t excuse Marcus's actions, but she understood the desperation that had driven him—maybe Cooper would understand that too.

 

Cooper pulled back as much as the restraints allowed, “He’s right, damn it! I should’ve been outta there by nightfall, runnin’ with those pouches.” His voice cracked, rough and bitter. “Would’ve thrown you over my shoulder if I had to!”

 

Lucy didn’t flinch under his glare. She could feel the anger radiating off him—she felt it too—but she knew letting it consume them both wouldn’t help. Without breaking eye contact, she shifted lower, her body settling firmly on his hips. Her arms hooked loosely around his neck, drawing them even closer as she met his gaze head-on.

 

He licked his lips, Her new scent—now sharper and almost... fruity? It was an odd mix with the radiation woven into it, distinct, setting her apart from chem-made ghouls he’d encountered in the past. The scent clung to her, wrapping around him, pulling him away from the red-hot rage that had gripped his mind.

 

“Untie me,” he groaned,but the command faltered under the weight of her body. His wrists twist against the ropes, But the pain barely registered overtaken by a sharper awareness—her

 

Lucy’s cheeks flushed, “I won’t let you go after Marcus,” she said, her tone steady as stone.

 

The heat between them thickened, a flush spreading across Cooper’s skin as her words sliced through the haze of his lust. His gaze flicked downward, landing on her lips for a brief second, before trailing lower. His eyes were drawn to the way her arms framed her chest, the curve of her breasts emphasized by her posture.

 

Cooper inhaled sharply through his nostril cavity, a mistake that sent his lungs into a painful, jarring spasm. He coughed. the sound is harsh and ragged, ripping through the air.

 

Lucy’s eyes widened. Without hesitation, she pulled back, scrambling toward the bag of supplies she'd. She fumbled with the worn straps, then yanking out the grimy container of Goo and a small, dented flask of water.

 

Rushing back, her hands moved with urgency but care, one of them steadying his chin as he leaned forward. His mouth opened eagerly, accepting a small drop of Goo on his tongue. Her brow furrowed.

 

His ragged breaths filled the silence as she tilted the water to his lips next. He gulped it down, each swallow strained, the effort visible in the flicker of pain that crossed his eyes. Her hand cradled his head, her thumb tracing slow, soothing arcs against his skin.

 

Crap on a cracker– She thought. “I don’t know if it works the same as the inhaler,”  Watching him closely, she bit the inside of her cheek.

 

Cooper shook his head with the last swallow, “Gotta be better than nothing,” he muttered, After a brief moment, he lifted his head, his gaze landing on her face. He imagined her falling apart like him.

 

Not gonna happen– She wasn’t exposure-born, she’s chem-made. His eyes softened, before he looked away, Chem-Mades got it easier . 

 

“Drink some yourself,” he commanded.

 

Lucy frowned, Do I look?… her brows knitted together “But I’m not—”

 

Cooper cut her off, his voice more insistent now, “You’ll wanna stay ahead of the ‘everything falling to pieces’ train. Drink it.”

 

With a reluctant sigh, Lucy followed his directive, taking a small dose of the Goo just as he had. The bitter taste coated her tongue, forcing a grimace. 

She left their bubble to tuck the containers away. The weight of his gaze followed her, but she pretended not to notice, swallowing the last remnants of the aftertaste.

 

Returning, She settled in front of him on the ground, her posture tentative as she searched for the right words. “So… we found my dad...", her voice trailed off. 

 

She traced her gray finger in the dirt on the linoleum floor. The motion was absent-minded.

 

Cooper knew exactly what she was getting at. The plan had always been relatively clear: find her dad, and then part ways. That had been the understanding.

 

For Cooper, the arrangement had always been straightforward—stick around long enough to find Hank, maybe enjoy Lucy’s company for a while. After that, it was supposed to be about following the next lead. But now, as he watched her, tracing lines in the dirt, he felt the weight of his choices pressing down on him.

 

Revenge against Marcus was tempting, but it was only a short-term goal. He knew, deep down, that chasing after Marcus would only distract him from the real mission— 

 

Finding remnants of his family has been his driving force for so long, the only quest that had defined him. Yet now, with the end possibly in sight, a sliver of hesitation crept in. What would it all amount to? What would he do once the final chapter of that long-standing quest was written?

 

 Then there was Lucy. She was more than just a temporary companion now; she was someone who had become intertwined with his flesh. The idea of parting ways with her...of letting her go; felt like a splinter under his skin—irritating and hard to ignore. 

 

The choice wasn’t as clear-cut as he’d imagined it would be. Revenge, resolution, redemption? The pull of his old life or the potential for something new?

 

As Lucy traced patterns in the dirt, her mind drifted back to the lessons from her youth in the vault. The Overseer’s voice echoed in her memory, stern and unwavering as he laid out the expectations for marriage.

It wasn’t about love, not really. Marriage was a duty, a transaction where each person had a role to play. The husband was the protector, the provider, while the wife was the caretaker, the nurturer. Together, they were supposed to fulfill the needs of the vault, to ensure its continued survival. Romance was never a part of the equation, just a potential byproduct of shared responsibility. Love grew from mutual duty.

 

Here, outside the vault, things were different. Lucy was experiencing something she had never been taught to expect—She thought about the way Cooper looked at her sometimes, not with expectation, but with a kind of quiet understanding, a respect that didn’t demand anything in return.

 

She didn’t want to hold Cooper to that version of himself in the simulation, one that could afford to let his guard down. She didn’t want to risk pushing him away by clinging to something that might not be there.

 

She wanted to stay with him.

 

Silent, she continued her tracing idle patterns in the dirt.

 

Cooper's mouth tightened. She was doing it again—the same thing she did in the simulation. Just waiting.

 

Early in their 'relationship,' Lucy seemed to realize that pressing him for answers, trying to get him to open up, only made him uncomfortable. She’d stopped asking, stopped pushing, and instead, she waited. She’d sit silently, her patience as steady as the ticking of a clock, never pressuring him, never demanding more than he was ready to give. And somehow, that approach had worked.

 

Fucking hell, it was working now, he thought.

 

"I need to find my family," he said finally, the words escaping with a weight that seemed to press down on him, resignation heavy in his tone.

 

Lucy’s eyes flicked up, A spark of determination lit up her face, "I'd love to help you find them. Barb and Janey, right?" she replied quickly, She didn’t know if everything from the simulation was real, but she remembered those names—his ex-wife Barb, his daughter Janey.

 

Cooper let out a soft, weary chuckle. He hadn’t known what to expect from her—hesitation, maybe, or some kind of awkward distance—but no. Her response had been instant, unwavering. Of course it had. That's what his wife would have done, or at least the woman who’d played that role for six years. He realized then that he should’ve seen it coming, that her fierce, unyielding support was always a real life feature of hers. 

 

Lucy heard his soft chuckle and leaned in. Her hands moved to his thighs, palms pressing gently, but firmly, against the worn fabric. 

 

"What’s so funny?" she asked, with an edge that dared him to answer. She leaned just a little closer.

 

Her defiant pout was the final straw. Cooper’s gaze slid away, his jaw clenching as frustration rippled through him, sharp and fleeting. This is gonna get messy. He couldn’t meet her eyes—not with the chaos rattling around in his head. Clearing his throat, he pushed the words out. 

 

"You want to stay married to me?"

 

He had to get this over with. The wasteland was harsh, unforgiving, dangerous, dirty, lonely—all that and a bag of chips. If you were actually dumb enough to fall for someone out here, you’d better be smart enough not to waste time tiptoeing around it.

 

Lucy blinked, “I—I…” She stammered, trying to gather her thoughts. She hadn't expected him to be the one to dive into this, especially not like this.

 

“Forget it, forget I said anything—" he shook his head quickly. Leaning forward, his movement pushed her back.

 

"Hang on!" Lucy snapped back, a biting laugh escaping her lips, more out of shock than humor. Okay, now this feels more like him.

 

"It was a dumb thing to say," he grumbled, the regret heavy in his voice. "You weren’t even awake—"

 

"I still remember everything," she interrupted. 

 

“But you didn’t choose any of it,” Cooper countered, his tone softening as he stared at the ground. “I just got… comfortable.” His words came out quieter now, as if admitting it tasted bitter on his tongue. 

 

Lucy’s shoulders deflated as she watched him, the weight of everything pressing down on both of them. She remembered being comfortable with him, so effortlessly. "Yeah..." she trailed off softly, and Cooper raised his head slightly, his expression tight.

 

“I wasn’t comfortable,” she admitted, his voice rough around the edges. His face shifted, just barely—a slight twitch that might go unnoticed by anyone else. But Lucy saw it. She kept talking, pushing through the haze of memories.

 

"Being aware, but not in control—it was..." She hesitated, her brow furrowing as she searched for the words. "It was like growing up all over again." Her eyes went wide, the realization washing over her. "And having my dad there? That certainly didn’t help." She let out a soft, bitter laugh, glancing back at Cooper. But his body was slumped, his gaze fixed on the ground, hollow and distant.

 

He had feared this—that the entire experience had been a nightmare for her, trapped in her own body, just like him. His shoulders sagged, the weight of her words cutting deeper than he’d expected.

 

Lucy’s smile was faint, yet it carried a warmth, an understanding. She pushed herself up on her knees again, slowly reaching out to cradle his face in her hands. Her fingertips were gentle as they guided him to look at her, forcing his eyes to meet hers. For a moment, she just studied him—really looked at him.

 

Cooper Howard, the actor, had been handsome in a clean, sharp way. Dreamy. But Cooper The Ghoul was different. Weathered. There was a raw, rugged appeal to him that stirred something deep inside her—a warmth that filled her chest at seeing him, really seeing him with her real eyes, not just through a simulation, not just in a dream.

 

Cooper stiffened at her touch, instinctively wanting to pull his head away from her grasp. He could feel the weight of her studying gaze, the way her eyes traced the rough lines of his ghoulified face. He’d forgotten, briefly, how different he looked now. Again.

 

Cooper’s gaze finally met hers, and with his chin cradled in her hand, he spoke quietly, the weight of his words dragging. "I'm sorry."

 

Lucy glanced down shyly, her thumb brushing along his jawline, taking in the apology. “It was hard,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Being on the inside with no say. The sim version of me—she just fell right back into the programming the vault ingrained in me." Her voice softened, the memories of Vault 33 weighing heavy on her. "I see more of it now, even more than when Norm used to point it out. The way they controlled us, conditioned us, over the years."

 

She paused, her eyes flicking back to him. “But...you made a lot of it... enjoyable... educational, even.” Her voice warmed, a soft light returning to her gaze. "You didn’t just look out for me physically—you stood up for me emotionally."

 

Cooper shifted uncomfortably, guilt pricking at the edges of his consciousness. “It wasn’t–”

 

“I’m actually talking right now.” Lucy’s voice was a firm whisper between them, cutting off his attempt at deflection. 

 

A short, soft snort escaped Cooper before he could stop it. “Yes ma'am.” 

 

That earned him a bright, beaming smile, one that lit up Lucy’s entire face as she brought her arms around his neck, hanging off him with the same easy warmth that had tethered them together in the simulation.

 

"I don’t want to throw away what we’ve built either. I mean, I want to stay with you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

 

Cooper’s eyes flickered as the words sank in, a subtle shift in his expression betraying the hope rising in his chest—like a knot slowly unraveling. 

 

Her hands fidgeted behind him for a moment before she caught herself, and he noticed it, the way she was holding back, trying to find the right words. "I don’t w-want a title or a role, but I don’t want to lose this… whatever this is." She took a breath, and as she did, Cooper leaned in slightly, his body instinctively drawn to her, “Are you okay wi–” Cooper leaned forward, his response wordless but sure, capturing her lips in a kiss that carried both his answer and the weight of everything unspoken. Her arms tightened around his neck, her warmth flooding through him, grounding him in the moment.

 

The sharpness of his earlier embarrassment for the clumsy way he'd approached this topic slipped away, replaced by a certainty that only deepened as her fingernails scraped lightly at the nape of his neck. A shiver ran through him, his hands itching to pull her closer, but the ropes reminded him of his restraint.

 

He pulled back just enough to see the flush in her cheeks, her lips red and slightly swollen from their kiss. He felt something primal stir in him. "Untie me," he said again, his voice low and ragged, filled with more meaning now than before. Lucy's heated breath hit his face. “okie-dokie”

 

 

Notes:

Hello, thanks as always for reading, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated.

Chapter 17: Its been- One Week since

Notes:

Fun times, Please Enjoy!

Lucy's fingers traced a slow, deliberate path up Cooper's chest, "You know what I want to do with you?" 

 

Cooper's response was a weary smirk, "What's that?" 

 

"Sleep," Lucy said—Cooper snorted. Her smile broadened into a grin. “I’m… EXHUAsted! ”  

 

Thank god —Cooper nodded—“ Yeah –I’d love that.” 

 

He shifted to make room for her on his jacket spread out on the cracked linoleum floor, He arranged his bag under his head for a pillow and lay back, his arm opening in an invitation for her to join.

 

Lucy settled down next to him, curling into a fetal position with her head resting on the crook of his folded arm. This is nice– His other arm wrapped around her, pulling her close in a protective embrace that felt as natural as it was necessary,

 

As she closed her eyes, the subtle sounds of the old building creaking, the distant howl of the wind through broken windows, all but Cooper began to fade into the background.

 

Sleep.

 

In the dim light filtering through the dusty windows of the abandoned grocery store, Hank’s cold "good morning" sliced through the silence, striking Lucy with an unexpected chill. Her attempt to shrug it off was clumsy as her hands mechanically passed food rations to her father. He accepted it without acknowledgment, moving to sit with his back to her.

 

He’s giving me the cold shoulder now? Her thoughts churned as she watched him. Everything’s upside down here, Is this... betrayal? No, it’s deeper than that. It’s disappointment. 

 

As she stewed over her father’s behavior, Cooper lounged on the floor, fully stretched out. Propped on his right arm, his eyes amusedly tracked the silent drama unfolding. His legs were casually crossed in front of him, the picture of relaxed ease. Cooper’s low voice rumbled through the silence, “So, Hank, you gonna tell me where Vault 96 is... the easy way or the hard way?”

 

Lucy, seated near him, rolled her eyes, Muttering under her breath, she took another slow bite of her stale food, the crunch oddly loud in the quiet store. Hope he picks the hard way.

 

Her father’s slow, deliberate turn carried a gravitas that only age could bestow. “I’ll tell you exactly where Barb is after Lucy and I are safely back in Vault 33,” he declared.

 

Lucy glanced up at her father, her frustration flaring. First he gives me the cold shoulder, and now he’s acting like he cares about my safe return?

 

Cooper looked at Lucy. She’d promised to help him find Janey. He assumed she wanted to go back to Vault 33 anyway, to catch up with her baby brother. He was about to agree to Hank’s easy terms when Lucy cut in.

 

“You think I want to go home with you?” Lucy said bitterly to her father.

 

Hank’s dismissive eye roll was like a slap to Lucy's already raw emotions. “No, I think you want to throw your life away to prove a point. I get it, you’re in charge, you win. Now let’s go home, where we can find you a cure—”

 

Cooper cut in, his voice firm. “There ain’t a cure.” He looked up at Lucy, “Don’t even bother entertaining that idea.” His tone softened just slightly, a hard-earned wisdom behind it. 

The best she could hope for was the latest serum Moldaver had to offer. Actually. – Put that on the to-do list…

 

Lucy’s shoulders sagged, She hadn’t considered a cure, had barely begun to understand her new reality. She pursed her lips, casting a defiant pout at her father.

 

“Do you not love me this way?” Her voice was flat, her face expressionless.

 

Cooper flinched, Goddamn, The bluntness of her inquiry resonated with his own fears, his own losses. He clenched his fists If Janey ever asked me that question... He pushed the thought away.

 

Hank’s expression contorted with an immediate mixture of regret and desperation. “Of course I love you—every way! I will always love you, Lucy—”

 

Lucy was already upright, her body infused with a sudden burst of energy that seemed conjured from thin air. The brief slumber had left her surprisingly refreshed, proving Cooper's past point that ghouls needed little rest.  

 

“I don’t need you to ‘ always’ love me. I need you to act like you love me.” Her voice carried as She turned to leave.

 

She pushed through the rusted doors of the grocery store, the morning air hitting her face, She needed space, needed to breathe away from the stifling confines of expectations and old wounds. Mom—Dead, Norm— Left in the dark, Me— manipulated, Cooper—temporarily murdered. Every name on that list carried a different flavor of resentment. 

 

Cooper watched her leave, a part of him wanting to follow, to offer solace. But he stayed, his presence a silent support from afar, as he turned back to Hank,  “Did they sew your foot into your mouth?”

…

 Her hand instinctively rose to shield her eyes from the unexpectedly bright morning light. After the dim, musty interior, the soft sunlight felt almost harsh, pricking at her pupils with startling intensity. Despite the warm air kissing her skin, she found herself rubbing her arms, a reflex from the sudden change.

 

Her thoughts meandered, a gentle tide pulling her towards the next steps. Head home. Hug Norm. Simple. Essential. She needed the comfort of familiarity, the safety of known smiles. She visualized Norm’s face, the kind that crinkled his eyes and warmed her heart.

 

But then, the wind shifted. I need to see the vault doctor. Her hand drifted to her lower abdomen, fingers tracing the outline of a small, unexplained scar—Unease stirred within her, like dark clouds gathering at the edge of her mind. What had they done… in that vault? Did it even matter now? A bitter taste filled her mouth as she pondered her new reality.

 

 The transformation hadn’t been as catastrophic as she’d feared; she hadn't felt the expected horror of becoming a ghoul, aside from the dramatic plunge from ten floors up— Questions gnawed at her, a swarm of doubts and curiosities buzzing too loudly. Yet, there was a hesitance in her, a coiled embarrassment at broaching these topics with Cooper. 

 

…

 

Hank shot Cooper a withering glance. "I will not be lectured by a man old enough to be her great-great-great-great-great—"

 

“That’s gotta be an exaggeration of greats,” Cooper interjected.

 

Hank’s eyes rolled dismissively. “Regardless, you’re too old for her.”

 

Cooper groaned as he pushed himself up from the ground. “I’m too old for everybody, Henry.”

 

“But my daughter specifically? Come on!” Hank’s voice sharpened “I met you when I was 26, and now you think this is acceptable?”

 

Cooper brushed off his hands and began methodically packing up their makeshift camp. “I didn’t exactly make this decision with you in mind.” 

 

Hank stood, towering over the slightly shorter Cooper, his voice seething with anger. “And what decision is that, exactly? Hmm?” He took a threatening step closer. “Whatever it is, father to father…”

 

Cooper halted his movements and turned to face Hank. His hollow eyes flickered dangerously—a silent warning missed by the man. “You know you’re wrong for her,” Hank hissed, closing the gap between them.

 

Cooper’s jaw clenched visibly, He’s right– a voice hissed in agreement, Without warning, his hands shot out, shoving Hank forcefully in the chest. Hank’s body staggered backward, surprise registering briefly before he crashed to the ground.

 

Cooper towered over him,“You seem to be under the impression that I give a damn about your opinion.” He paused, letting the words sink in “I assure you, I do not”

 

Hank’s eyes burned, 

 

Cooper continued, “The decision that’s been made is Lucy and I are sticking together. Partners. And you’d better adjust your attitude, toward me and especially her, before I take your daughter away from you... just. like. you. took. mine . ”

 

The accusation deflates Hank’s fury. He opened his mouth, but no words came; his rebuttal choked off by the weight of his own conscience. Good.

 

Without waiting for Hank to recover, Cooper turned sharply and strode away, His mind was already racing ahead, thoughts turning to Lucy, needing to check if she was alright. As he exited the store, the morning sun cast long shadows behind him.

 

…

 

Her thoughts scattered as the soft crunch of footsteps approached from behind. Lucy turned, her movements hesitant, just in time to see Cooper ambling toward her with his usual easy stride. He stopped close, within arm's reach, and she reflexively lowered her arms, her hands finding the rough fabric of her jumpsuit in a moment of awkward uncertainty. Am I allowed to just touch him?

 

Cooper, sensing the shift, mirrored her, his own hands dropping to his sides– To touch or not to touch.

 

For a long beat, they simply stood, their gazes fixed on the horizon where the barren, humming expanse of the irradiated wasteland stretched into eternity. Cooper’s voice cut through, “You wanna take your daddy home with you?”

 

A soft smile tugged at Lucy’s lips “Might as well,” she responded, eyes meeting his, “Could use some ‘bait’ at some point.”

 

Cooper’s smirk was quick– yeah sure — his eyes rolled slightly. “Don’t play with my emotions,” he said, “You’d never let me go that far .”

 

Lucy's giggle was a bright sound in the quiet– True. Her eyes sparkled— the familiar creak of the door sounded behind them. Hank emerged slowly into the sunlight, his figure casting a long shadow that fell over the moment like a dark curtain. Lucy's smile faded into a thin line, now more somber. “It's fun to think about, though,” she murmured.

—88—

 

The next night, the trio found shelter in a small, cramped shack. A sandstorm had just blown through, and while the air had settled, the sting of sand still clung to their skin. Cooper stepped outside, craving a breath of fresher air than the stagnant, dust-laden atmosphere inside. The tight confines of the shack made it a necessary shelter against the elements, but the claustrophobia was almost as choking as the sand itself.

 

Leaning against the cool, rough exterior of the shack, Cooper looked up. There she is— The moon hung low, a constant in the ever-changing chaos of the wasteland. It cast a pale, silvery light that seemed to smooth the jagged edges of the world. Cooper let the moonlight wash over him, the cool desert night soothing the residual sting of sand on his skin.

 

Through the cracked window, Hank's voice drifted, an attempt to bridge the chasm of silence that had stretched between him and Lucy throughout their trek. “So... how did you two meet?” 

 

Cooper shifted, turning his ear toward the window. Inside the shack, Lucy hesitated. Her entire life, even the last 6 years —she’d seen her father every day, talked to him about everything and anything. The distance between them now was foreign and painful. She didn’t know if she’d ever stop being mad at him for what happened to her mom, but…

 

“We met in Filly,” her voice was steady but distant. Her eyes flickered to the window, drawn by a subconscious need to connect with Cooper. “That’s the town we’re headed to.”

 

Outside, Cooper’s eyebrow arched, a smile playing on his lips at her words. He remembered their first meeting well—the tension, the unexpected bravery she had shown. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

 

Hank nodded weakly, “Were you drawn to him right away?” he asked, trying to sound casual, as if they were gossiping about some boy from the vault.

 

Lucy’s laugh was soft, more to herself than to her father. “No, he scared me at first.” Her gaze dropped to her hands, to the fine grains of sand still embedded under her nails.

 

“I hadn’t seen a ghoul yet,” she continued, her voice gaining a hint of warmth as she recalled the shock of that first encounter. “And he had just shot off a man’s leg—oh, the doctor whose head I gave to Moldaver,” she added with a nonchalance.

 

Outside, Cooper’s chuckle was a low rumble, more felt than heard. He shifted his weight from one foot to another.

 

Hank's smile widened, The more she opened up, the more he recognized the daughter he once knew, and he yearned for that old familiarity—their effortless back-and-forth that he'd missed dearly. 

 

“When I met Cooper,” Hank started, a subtle glow of pride warming his voice, “I had been working under his wife for four years.” His eyes lit up, “Barb—she was climbing the corporate ladder, and I was right there with her.” He smiled, the memory tinged with a shared sense of achievement. “Cooper was somewhat of a mystery then—Barb always kept him somewhat shielded, fiercely protective, you might say.”

 

He paused, his gaze becoming distant as he sifted through the cobwebs of his memory “Ah, but then Betty managed to arrange a meeting for me.” His smile turned wistful, as if he were reliving that pivotal day.

 

“Wait... Betty-Betty?” she interjected.

 

“Yes, that Betty,” Hank chuckled.

 

Cooper closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall. Betty... Betty? The name tugged at something distant in his mind, He tried to recall, but it felt just out of reach.

 

Back inside, as Hank’s secrets began to unravel, the weight of his admissions hung heavy in the air. Her body tensed…. If Betty was like my dad —how many more were there? The question clawed at her. Finally, she spoke, "Who else in the vault is like you?"

 

Hank's posture deflated, He looked weary, a father torn between duty and the deep-seated desire to preserve the fragile strands of family left to him. "Stephanie," he murmured.

 

"Stephanie!" Lucy's reaction was visceral, She had envisioned Stephanie as a kindred spirit, shackled by similar duties and silent struggles, not as a co-conspirator.

 

Hank winced, "She was another Assistant," his explanation brittle with regret. "I've been grooming her to assume the role of Overseer since her arrival at Vault 33."

 

Lucy's gaze hardened, the pieces clicking into a disheartening picture. "And spy on me," she stated flatly.

 

Hank's eyes fled from hers, seeking refuge in the worn floorboards below. A deep shame colored his tone. "Y-yes," he breathed out.

 

Outside, Cooper grimaced, rubbing a hand over his face. Christ—I wish I had a cigarette.

 

Lucy swallowed hard, her throat tight with suppressed anger. If she exploded now, she wouldn’t be able to focus on extracting more information. Taking a deep breath, Her eyes, sharp and searching, locked onto her father again. “Cooper said you lied about some medical records?”

 

Hank rolled his eyes, “Of course he did. Fucking tattle-tale–”

 

“Daddy.” The word was sharp, clipped with disapproval. Hank offered a sheepish shrug

 

“Look,” he started, trying to gather some semblance of authority in his tone, “your mother’s line has been genetically altered for over 200 years. You possess a uterus that can carry radiation-resistant offspring. It's really not as dramatic as you think.” His offhand remark sought to trivialize the profound intrusion into her and the women in her line’s reproductive autonomy.

 

Lucy’s mind flickered back to Vault 4, echoing with the overseer's probing question: “What’s your experiment?” She shook her head, a sharp motion to clear the clutter of thoughts. It doesn’t matter now. She was a ghoul. “So... what does that even mean?” she pressed, frustration sharpening her voice. “What would the C.O.O. of Vault-Tec want with me?”

 

Hank’s face twisted slightly at the formality. “Just call her Barb, sweetie,” 

 

Lucy scoffed lightly, B arbra Howard , remembering Cooper's tales from the night before—the harrowing events he had recounted, pieced together amid his own brutal murder and subsequent liberation from the basement cells.

 

"Why would Barb be interested in me?" The question slipped out, edged with a sharp irritation as the wheels in her mind turned, fabricating sinister implications.

 

Hank looked at her with a depth of sincerity, He extended his hand, his fingers brushing against hers. "I haven’t spoken to Barb in over two centuries," he confessed "Honestly, Lucy... I can't begin to fathom her motives anymore."

 

He paused, his expression clouded "As for your... capabilities," he continued, "it's all still in the realm of theory. You haven’t had any children, so the true extent of their radiation resistance remains untested." 

 

Lucy's gaze fell to the cracked and dusty floor, "Well," she whispered, the word floating out on a sigh, "guess we'll never know–Ghouls can't have children." She released a slow, measured breath, a secret thrill flickered deep within her at the idea, then doubt— Wait… I mean, at least I think…

 

Lucy lifted her head, directing her gaze toward the cracked window that separated her from Cooper. "Right?" she called out loudly.

 

After a heartbeat of silence, Cooper’s low, reassuring voice floated through the cool night air, a soft but certain " Right ."

 

A small, tentative smile curved Lucy's lips as relief washed over her features. The shadows seemed to retreat slightly with the sound of his voice, offering a brief respite from the weight of the night.

 

—888—

 

Late on the third night, under a blanket of stars that speckled the clear sky with shimmering points of light, Cooper and Lucy found solace leaning against an old, gnarled log. Cooper's arm was wrapped around her, drawing her close as they sat side by side, their legs stretched out on the dry scarred earth.. Oddly, she never felt the cold anymore. The warmth of Cooper beside her was comforting, though it didn’t quite overwhelm her senses the way it had before. Temperature control, Cooper calls it.

 

A few feet away, Hank lay curled near the fire, his breathing steady and deep, a soothing contrast to the otherwise silent wilderness. The fire itself crackled softly, its flames casting a warm, flickering glow that danced across their faces and the surrounding underbrush, creating a play of light and shadow.

 

She took a small, deliberate breath, her voice quiet, “Would you tell me about Janey?”

 

Cooper's gaze was anchored to the flames, reflecting their dance in his weary eyes. The question hung heavily in the air, resonating with a deep, unspoken gravity. Lucy sensed the momentary tension in him, a subtle stiffening as if he were traversing through a minefield of memories.

 

For a moment, it seemed as though he wouldn’t answer at all. In the simulation, Lucy never asked him questions, never really pressed him for details, Because she couldn’t.  

 

His eyes flickered away from the fire to the expanse above them,  “She was... kind,” he began.

 

A pause lingered, dense enough that Lucy wondered if he might retreat back into silence. But then–“She loved animals. Always bringing home strays,” he continued, a gentle chuckle broke through — “This girl could find every fallen baby bird in a three-mile radius.” The memories seemed to flood him now, softening the hard lines of his face as he recalled her small, eager hands presenting each rescued chick. At one point, it felt like he was running a bird sanctuary. He hadn't minded though—

 

Lucy’s smile grew, moved by the tender timbre of his nostalgia. She shifted closer. His arm responded, tightening, pulling her into the shelter of his body. She nestled her head against his chest, “Thank you, for telling me,” she murmured,

 

Cooper closed his eyes, the familiar ache of loss washing over him, but this time, it wasn’t as sharp. Talking about Janey... it was hard, but it was nice too—nice to remember her smiling, to pull her face out from the fog of his memory and hold it, just for a moment. There was remorse, sure, but there was also peace. He took a slow breath, feeling something shift within him, as if the weight on his chest had eased just a bit.  “ Thanks for asking .”

 

—8888—

 

A few days later, as they neared Filly, the wasteland seemed less antagonistic, almost courteous. Creatures that usually stalked the shadows gave only a cursory glance, and the sporadic bandit proved more nuisance than threat. The proximity to Filly brought a palpable shift in the air—a golden sunrise unfurling over the town, its early rays casting hopeful glimmers across the muddied paths they trod.

After enduring nights under thunderous skies and relentless rain, Lucy eagerly sought the promise of dry shelter. Her boots made a wet, sucking sound as they pulled free from the mud with each step. Above, the sky pretended calm, but the smeared horizon told the truth—more storms loomed, waiting. Exhausted and driven by anticipation of warmth and dryness, Lucy hastened her pace. 

 

She needed to distance herself from the oppressive atmosphere created by the constant bickering of the two men behind her. Their current silence, heavy and sullen, had fallen only after Lucy had whirled around to snap at them, “ Keep me out of your squabbles! ” she had commanded. Now, as she moved ahead, each step was a small escape from the tension that clung as stubbornly as the mud to her boots.

 

She fantasized about the quiet corners of an inn, about the softness of a dry bed. Walls. A roof. Anything 

 

As they reached the bustling perimeter of Filly, marked by lively market stalls and the vibrant thrum of commerce, their path was barred by two guards. The first guard’s drawl cut in “Wil’come to Filly...” His gaze slid dismissively past Lucy to fix on Cooper with an unwelcome sharpness. “We don’t want any trouble from your kind here,” the other added then.

 

Cooper’s response was a smirk, his hat tipping with a theatrical flourish that only underscored his disregard for their… wants.  “Then I suggest nobody starts any trouble,” he retorted.

 

Lucy’s irritation spiked. Great – She rolled her eyes, Cooper’s penchant for fanning the flames could be tiresome; Focusing back on the guards, she forced a polite smile, “Could you point me to your nearest establishment for lodging?”

 

“Lodging?” one of the men echoed, confused by her phrasing. Lucy’s face softened, “My apologies,” she corrected, “I mean... a place to sleep?”

 

The guard blinked,. “Oh, right. Yeah ,” he pointed toward the covered entrance that led deeper into Filly. “Two not rights, then a right,” he added, his directions muddled.

 

It took Lucy a moment to decipher his words, but she nodded, offering a brief thanks before walking on. She could almost feel the guards’ wary eyes on Cooper, the air thick with unspoken judgments as they passed through the gate. The distance between her and the two men behind, stretched deliberately.

 

Finding the local inn was easy enough—until Lucy read the sign hanging above the door.

 

“No Ghouls Allowed!”

 

Her heart sank, the words slashing through her brief respite like a cold gust. She spun around, her expression a mix of panic and frustration. Cooper caught up, noticing her distress. His gaze slid lazily over the troublesome sign. “What’s wrong?” he asked, trying to gauge her reaction under the pretense of ignorance.

 

Lucy gestured dramatically at the offending words. “This is what's wrong!” she said.

 

A smirk played at the edges of his lips. “Well, let’s just go inside and see how serious they are,” he suggested, attempting to lighten her mood. 

 

Meanwhile, Hank, distracted by the bustling activity of Filly’s market, made a show of his indifference. “I’m gonna stay out here... look around…” his voice trailed off.

 

“Stay nearby,” Cooper called, his voice firm but without looking back, his attention stayed on Lucy.

 

“Aye-aye, Captain,” Hank replied, wandering toward the market with a casual wave.

 

Lucy shot a frustrated glance at Hank’s retreating figure before turning back to Cooper, She noticed him observing her with a trace of amusement in his eyes. Smug son of–

 

With a deep breath, Lucy led the way into the inn. As they crossed the threshold, she felt the weight of the impending confrontation. The desk clerk looked up and visibly blanched at the sight of Cooper. “Hey–Hey? Hey! Can you guys read?” she blurted out.

 

Lucy exchanged a quick, knowing glance with Cooper before they responded in sync, "Yes."

 

The clerk's eyebrows shot up in disbelief, as she pointedly said, “Then go back outside and read the sign.”

 

With a strained smile, Lucy leaned forward, “Ma’am, I was hoping we might negotiate an exception... perhaps for a fee?” She paused, allowing the suggestion to settle. “Or if not, could you direct us to another place that might accommodate us?”

 

The woman shook her head dismissively, her hands fluttering in a gesture of finality. “We’re the only place left with rooms. Just last week, we took in a whole refugee settlement. Filled the town right up.”

 

“Oh, that’s... nice,” Lucy responded, Behind her, Cooper’s impatience was palpable;

 

He rolled his eyes Stepping forward, his voice dropping a notch. “How much for her and her dad? I’ll stay outside.”

 

Lucy opened her mouth to protest, but the clerk’s demeanor softened at Cooper’s suggestion. “Oh, well, in that case," she began, her voice warming, "50 caps for two beds.”

 

Cooper nodded “All right. Put that room on hold.”

 

The clerk’s face scrunched in anger. “HEY, that’s not how it works—”

 

Cooper raised an eyebrow and The clerk recoiled slightly, the confidence in her voice wavering as she amended, “Okay, fine. But it’s 55 caps to include the hold.”

 

Before He could counter, Lucy grabbed his arm, guiding him towards the door with a reassuring squeeze. “Thank you so much! It’s a deal, we’ll—” She paused, catching the clerk’s stern look, and quickly corrected, “I mean, I will be back with the caps.”

 

“Back before sundown, or the room’s gone!” the clerk shouted after them as Lucy practically shoved Cooper out the door.

 

Once outside, Lucy exhaled a long breath of relief. Cooper glanced down at her, a half-smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Knew they'd let you stay. You’re too fresh to clock,” he teased.

 

Lucy rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a small, weary smile. The tension in her posture eased slightly as the reality of imminent rest settled in. “I wasn’t worried about being turned away,” she murmured. Her expression softened as she looked up at him. “I don’t like that you’ve been turned away.”

 

Cooper kept his stride beside her, “ Tough,” he replied simply.

Lucy let out a small breath of laughter, the tension visibly melting away as she lightly bumped her shoulder against Cooper's. He leaned into the nudge "That reminds me," he said, his tone dropping a register.

 

Pausing until a passerby moved out of earshot, he leaned closer, amid the hum of the crowded market. "Keep quiet about what you are, It’s safer that way," he cautioned.

 

Lucy's expression sobered, "But can’t other ghouls tell?"

 

Cooper shook his head slightly, guiding her forward with a touch to her back, “They could, but they won’t. It’s a…loyalty thing,” he said gruffly, eyes sweeping the scene.

 

Lucy’s face brightened, cutting in before he could say more. “That’s... really sweet!” She responded.

 

He snorted dismissively, his smirk reappearing as he looked out over the sea of market stalls, on the lookout for Hank or any potential financial opportunities. "Sweet isn’t the term I’d use," he murmured, his eyes still darting between faces and shadows. "It’s just common sense—keep quiet, and you survive. No one wants to rock the boat."

 

“Still,” she pressed, Her smile persisted, even as she digested his words, finding a strange solace in the solidarity she was learning existed among ghouls.  

 

Cooper shot her a sidelong glance, Despite the crowd, there was no sign of Hank, just a sea of faces bartering and bickering under the harsh sunlight.  “Where do you think your dad ran off to?”

 

Lucy turned with theatrical flair, her hand dramatically shielding her eyes from the harsh glare of the morning sun. Cooper watched, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. “Uhh...” she began, her search was cut short by a sudden, sharp shout.

 

“I’LL KILL YOU!”

 

Their heads snapped towards the disturbance, along with everyone else’s. The marketplace, already a hive of activity, buzzed with renewed interest. Cooper’s hand moved to his hat, pulling it off with a practiced motion–He placed the hat gently on Lucy’s head, The sudden shade over her face made her look up at him, Their eyes met, his marked by a brief, knowing look. “How much you wanna bet they’re yellin’ at your daddy?” 

 

Before Lucy could reply, Hank MacLean burst through the swinging doors of a saloon across the dusty street, launched unceremoniously into the wet mud with a graceless splat. He landed hard, his one good hand flailing in an inelegant attempt to break his fall, sending mud splattering. The crowd swiftly parted, providing ample space for what had swiftly turned into local entertainment.

 

Disheveled, mud-splattered, and distinctly ruffled, Hank struggled to regain his footing, his efforts hindered by the slick sludge beneath him. Each attempt to rise only sent him slipping back down, his plight drawing a mix of reactions from the onlookers—some stifled their laughter, while others openly grumbled about the ruckus disturbing their day.

 

Lucy’s protective instincts surged to the forefront, propelling her through the crowd with a brisk urgency. Ignoring Cooper’s skeptical eye-roll, she reached Hank, her arm looping around his, trying to haul him up with a firm tug.

 

Yet, just as Hank began to find some semblance of balance, Lucy’s attention snapped to the doorway of the saloon. The figure stepping through it carried himself with the unmistakable poise of a soldier—

 

“Max!” Lucy’s voice cut through the ambient murmurs, laced with shock and a surge of excitement. Without thinking, she released Hank, who, lacking her support, teetered and fell back into the mud with a wet thud. The crowd erupted in renewed laughter, delighting in the misfortune of the vault dweller.

 

Max's face broke into a broad, welcoming grin as he spotted Lucy near his former target. He approached with his arms wide open. "Lucy!" he exclaimed, voice booming. He enveloped her in a robust hug, lifting her slightly off the ground in his eagerness.

 

Lucy was momentarily stunned by the suddenness of the reunion—finding Max had been on her mind, though it had been reluctantly pushed to the back burner amidst everything else. Now he was in the flesh and embracing her, It was as though fate had woven their paths together just when she least expected but most needed a familiar new presence. Her arms returned the embrace.

 

Cooper exhaled a deep, restrained breath, his gaze shifting between Lucy and Max. The sight of them pressed together, so easily slipping into laughter, pinched at something deep within him. He kept his face deliberately neutral, the muscle in his jaw tightening.

 

From the muddy ground, Hank wiped the grime off his face, catching Cooper’s subtle signs of discomfort. With a mischievous smirk, he nudged, “Well, who do we have here?” 

 

“Shut it,” Cooper growled. His eyes lingered on Lucy and Max a moment longer, frowning from the easy camaraderie. He turned away, focusing on an excuse to divert his attention.

 

He extended a hand, hoisting Hank to his feet. Cooper's ears remained tuned to the voices echoing behind him as he busied himself with brushing off Hank, his motions a bit more forceful than necessary. "Easy!" Hank muttered, wincing as he pulled away from Cooper's rough cleansing pats.

 

“I can’t believe it–” “–Where have you been?”

 

Lucy and Max spoke over each other, their laughter bubbling up between words, both caught in the excitement of their unexpected meeting. Lucy looked up at Max, noticing how his usually radiant smile softened into a more tender expression. The initial euphoria of their meeting gradually gave way to a more reflective mood. “I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner,” She murmured.

 

Max’s response was equally wistful, his normally boyish charm tempered by a moment of solemnity. “I’m sorry I stopped looking,” he admitted, “It’s just–”

 

Lucy cut in, her understanding immediate “The wasteland got in the way, huh?”

 

He nodded, more subdued as he squeezed her hands reassuringly. “Yeah,” he agreed, their fingers interlocking with a familiarity that belied the years apart.

 

Their exchange deepened, “I’ve had quite a wild last three years... though, for me, it was kinda like six,” Lucy shared.

 

Max chuckled, “Same here. Lots of... ‘adventures, ’” he quipped, Lucy’s laughter echoed his, “If you could call them adventures,” he added.

 

Lucy's joy momentarily wavered as she turned to check on Cooper and Hank, a flicker of concern knitting her brow. They stood a short distance away, Cooper with his arms crossed, Hank, less composed, was still patting down his clothes.

 

The sight of them, especially Cooper's stoic facade, sparked a twinge of anxiety in Lucy. Would Cooper be jealous? Then she thought of her father— And the thought that Max could want revenge— justifiably so—

 

Max’s eyes followed Lucy’s gaze, His demeanor shifted subtly, the easygoing charm dimming as he scrutinized Hank. “Oh yeah,” Max said, “Can I kill your dad?”

 

Lucy’s eyes nearly bulged at the absurdity of the question. She turned back to Max, blinking in disbelief. “Um... no?” she replied.

 

Max clicked his tongue in mock disappointment, then shrugged. “Dang. Okay.” His eyes slid past Hank to Cooper. “What’s with the ghoul?” He then eyed the cowboy hat sitting atop Lucy's head, an item that it seemed out of place perched on her head. 

 

Max looked from Lucy to Cooper, then back to the hat. "That who, you’ve been with?" he asked.

 

Lucy blinked, warmth spreading through her chest at the familiar banter. She had missed this— him . She let her gaze follow Max's back to Cooper, catching the ghoul's subtly attentive stance. Cooper pretended to be absorbed in his surroundings, while Hank, on the other hand, appeared to be engrossed in bird watching. 

 

"Can we catch up later, Max?" Lucy proposed, her voice carrying a new layer of anticipation. "How about we team up for a little adventure? I need to round up some caps for our lodging tonight."

 

Max's attention snapped back to her, his smile broadening. "That sounds perfect."

 

Lucy's heart lifted with the prospect of diving back into the familiar dynamics of a quest with Max. She reached out, her fingers intertwining with his, and with a playful tug, she led him towards Cooper and Hank.

 

“Cooper, Dad,” Lucy said, “This is Max. My first friend on the surface.”

 

Max stood there with a confident smile, his posture casual, though there was a readiness in his stance. His brown eyes flicked between Cooper and Hank, measuring them as much as they were him. 

 

Cooper gave him a slow, deliberate once-over, while Hank’s attention bypassed Max entirely, landing squarely on Cooper. “Ooh, Cooper," Hank drawled, "Her first friend. How’s that pointed title make you feel?” 

 

Lucy’s eyes widened, “That’s not what I—”

 

Cooper interrupted “Well, can’t say I’m surprised…considering I nearly drowned her, cut off her finger—”

 

Lucy smiled and chimed in, “and you sold me for drugs!”

 

Hank blanched, Cooper merely nodded “I did sell her for drugs.”

 

“What kinda drugs?” Max asked, He leaned slightly toward Cooper, offering, “The A.F. vials?”

 

“Yeah,” Cooper answered– “Yes.” Lucy said simultaneously. 

 

Max tilted his head, considering Lucy with a thoughtful gaze, “ What’d you get—three months?”

 

“Two,” Cooper answered, his voice curt as he straightened up, “You think I could’ve gotten three?”

 

Max's eyes lingered on Lucy “Yeah—”

 

“OKAY!” Lucy blurted out, She shot both men a firm look. “I’d rather not discuss how much I’m worth, thank you!” Her eyes, drawn by an unspoken call, found Cooper's. The corner of his mouth was quirked– he winked—Lucy quickly averted her gaze, feeling a warm blush spread up her neck as she focused intently on anything but Cooper.

 

Oblivious– Max extends his hand to Lucy’s Father, a welcoming gesture that faltered as Hank raised his left stub in response. "Oh," Max murmured, quickly switching hands to accommodate. Their handshake was brief, Max’s grip acknowledging the awkwardness but not dwelling on it.

 

“You threw me in the mud,” Hank stated

 

“Yeah.” Max replied, his smile unfazed by the accusation.

 

Lucy chuckled, her tone light but pointed. “ Daddy ,” she said, “Max here was directly affected by your decision to commit genocide in Shady Sands.”

 

Hank winced, his eyes scanning the nearby townsfolk for any sign of recognition or animosity. He laughed, and pleaded quietly to Lucy, “Ha-ha... could you keep your voice down?”

 

Cooper smirked  “What’s that, Hank? Got some thoughts about Shady Sands you’d like to share?” His tone was loud enough to draw glances from several bystanders, though they soon returned to their own affairs.

 

The color rose in Hank’s cheeks as he turned sharply to face Cooper, irritation etched deep in his features. “STOP,” he spat out.

 

Cooper’s grin lingered, though a flicker of something unreadable passed behind his eyes. He addressed Lucy then "How do you plan on making those caps?" He shot a glance at Hank, adding with a smirk, “You’ll need 55.”

 

Lucy clasped her hands together, "I was hoping that Max would accompany me on a quest or two," her eyes briefly flick to Max before landing back on Cooper. "Give us time to catch up?"

 

She spoke cautiously. Cooper’s expression didn’t immediately betray any emotion, but she saw the brief, subtle movement as he bit the inside of his cheek. Hank, on the other hand, seized the moment. “Oh, she wants to work with Max. Well, that’s nice, isn’t it, Coop? Don’t you think that’s nice?" Hank’s tone was thick with taunt, relishing the chance to needle at the ghoul.

 

Cooper’s sneer was almost imperceptible, He turned his gaze toward Lucy and Max, his voice calm and measured once more. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll take Hank—”

 

“Like a competition?” Max cut in, crossing his arms over his chest, an easy grin on his face as he glanced between Cooper and Hank.

 

Cooper paused, his gaze sharpening on the… boy . Before he could respond, Hank turned back to him, leaning into the idea. "Yeah, Coop? You wanna compete against young Max here?"

 

Lucy had had enough. "Daddy, stop," she snapped. She looked between the two men, her voice firm. “We meet back here before sundown, all right? We’ll compile our loot then.” Her eyes settled on Max, who nodded eagerly, rubbing his hands together.

 

Cooper clicked his jaw, "Sounds fun."

 

Lucy let out a small sigh of relief, but the undercurrent of competition between Cooper and Max was palpable, leaving her uncertain about how the rest of the day would unfold. Max, ever the opportunist, gestured for Lucy to follow him. “I already got a lead on some work,” he said, his grin wide and boyish.

 

Lucy smiled, her heart lightning as she turned to follow. Just as she took her first step, a sharp whistle cut through the air. She stopped mid-stride, glancing back to see Cooper’s stoic gaze fixed on her. Max halted too, his brow raised in curiosity.

 

Lucy’s eyes lit up with eager attention. “Yes?” 

 

Cooper didn’t answer right away, Instead, he gave a slow nod, gesturing toward her head. “Can I get my hat back?” he asked.

 

Lucy blinked, Her eyes flicked up to the brim, “Oh,” she said. Her eyes snapped back to Cooper. “No,” she said plainly.

 

Without waiting for a reply, Lucy turned on her heel, striding off with Max. A faint smirk tugged at her lips, the lighthearted rebellion making her steps lighter. Max shot a quick sideways glance at Cooper, eyebrows raised, but kept his thoughts to himself, simply matching Lucy’s pace with casual ease.

 

“Hey!” Cooper called after them again, his voice sharper than before. Lucy slowed for a second but didn’t stop, her head turning just enough to show she’d heard him.

 

“Stay in town!” Cooper’s voice cut through the bustling market.

 

 “Okie-dokie!” Lucy’s voice rang back through the crowd, chipper and carefree.

 

Cooper watched as Lucy and Max vanished into the bustling market, weaving through stalls and dodging the occasional merchant hawking their wares. His eyes tracked Lucy's light steps and easy laughter, a stark contrast to the tightness in his own chest. His jaw set firmly, a muscle twitching along his cheek as he struggled to tamp down the irritation simmering within him. It wasn't just Lucy's apparent comfort with Max that irked him, but the unsettling realization of how deeply he was affected by it.

 

Cooper maintained his brisk pace, his expression set in a grim line. Hank hustled to keep up, "What’s the plan for cash?”

 

Cooper’s reply came without hesitation, "The usual."

 

They continued in silence until Cooper paused, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed a motley crew of traders and scavengers mingling nearby. He raised his voice, “Need someone killed?”

 

The group halted, Silence hung for a tense moment until a wizened old woman detached herself from the crowd. Wrapped in a cloak that had seen better days, she studied Cooper with an intensity that matched his own. “How much ya chargin’,?” she asked.

 

----8888—-

 

As Lucy and Max navigated the outskirts of Filly, the sky overhead brooded with heavy clouds, casting a shadow over the sun-scorched landscape. The oppressive heat was slightly tempered by the promise of a storm, the air thick with the electric charge of impending rain. 

 

Max efficiently drove his spike through the shell of a radroach, its crunch muted under the thick, overcast sky. He grunted as he tossed the hefty bug into his sack with a dull thud. Ahead, Lucy targeted another roach, her spike striking the ground with less precision, missing the creature entirely. She flashed Max a sheepish grin as she wrestled her tool from the hard earth, the overcast light softening the contours of her frustration.

 

The air grew cooler as they worked, the dull light seemed to make the radroaches more sluggish, their movements lazy and uncoordinated. Max broke the comfortable silence, “So, six years with the guy and you think you're in love with him?”

Lucy, her face shaded by Cooper's hat, managed a tired smile as she skewered a roach, its death squeal almost lost beneath the low rumble of distant thunder. “Basically,” she responded, “There’s a lot to unpack, but it feels... easy. Normal, even?” She added another roach to her sack, its body giving a wet crunch under her spike. “Like, my dad and Cooper—they bicker like an old married couple.” All the time– SIX YEARS OF TIME.

 

Max chuckled, his laughter briefly lifting the gloom. “Dane and I don’t ever argue,” he noted, wiping sweat from his brow as a cool breeze flirted with the edges of the heavy clouds.

 

“That’s great,” Lucy replied, genuinely pleased for him. The cool wind tugged at the edges of Cooper’s hat, which she adjusted absentmindedly. Max continued to reminisce about Dane,

 

“They have these gray eyes,” he mused, “like pools of clean water .”

 

Lucy laughed, skewering another roach with a bit more force than necessary. “I get it. Cooper’s eyes have that certain twinkle, too.”

 

As they spoke, the sound of their spikes impaling radroaches mingled with the distant rumble of thunder, the storm drawing nearer. Max, wiping the sweat and grime from his face, glanced toward the horizon where dark clouds gathered more densely. “They should be back soon,” he said, referring to his brothers. “I healed up faster than expected, so maybe another week?”  Max had badly sprained his ankle just before they were set to escort some goods to Goodsprings. It was a routine mission—nothing the Brothers couldn’t handle without Max.

 

“I’d love to meet Dane,” Lucy remarked, considering the coming introduction– How to make a good impression…

 

Max nodded, his grin widening, but Lucy couldn’t help but feel a flicker of nervousness at the thought of Thadius. She hadn’t spent much time around him, but what little she knew left her feeling... uneasy. “And Thadius? How’s he doing after…”

 

“Becoming a ghoul?” Max finished for her, his tone soft but steady. “He’s okay. I think he likes being the muscle of the group now,” Max said, fondness in his voice. “He’s definitely not afraid to get hurt, that’s for sure.”

 

Lucy smiled at that, “Yeah, I can imagine.”

 

Max stabbed another roach, his movements fluid and practiced. “Thadius has always been brave. Becoming a ghoul just made him... braver, I guess. It doesn’t really bother him anymore.”

 

Lucy nodded, feeling a quiet respect for the resilience Thadius must have had to embrace his new reality. 

 

“Let’s wrap this up,” Max said, standing tall and tossing the last roach into his sack. Lucy nodded, shouldering her own bag of radroach guts. There was still a lot to do, but for now, they had the makings of a successful little hunt. They stood for a moment, appreciating the quiet satisfaction of a task well completed under the increasingly oppressive sky, the threat of a storm brewing with every passing minute.

 

Their brief respite was shattered by the sharp crack of a gunshot, slicing through the stillness of the desert air, followed by a piercing scream that echoed hauntingly from a distant, solitary structure standing stark against the horizon. The building, a three or four-story edifice, seemed an anomaly in the vast emptiness.

 

Lucy’s reaction was instantaneous; her body tensed, The scream had carried a chilling note of despair, unsettling her more than she cared to admit. She turned to Max, her expression tense, “Do you know anything about that?” she asked, nodding toward the ominous building.

 

Max, who had been following her gaze, shrugged nonchalantly, but his eyes remained sharply focused on the distant structure. “Who knows around here.”

---88888—--

 

Cooper and Hank stood, barely concealing their impatience as Gladys, the old woman, meandered through a bewildering monologue. Her voice quavered dramatically with every mention of her husband, her cherished petunias, and the nefarious "red-scarf hoodlum" wreaking havoc in her garden.

 

"Every morning, Stanley would sing to those petunias, serenade them with old war songs–”

 

 “Lady! Can you just get to the damn point already?”  Hank's tolerance frayed at the edges with every hyperbolic lament– Cooper’s hand shot out, flicking Hank’s ear sharply. Hank yelped, rubbing the side of his head.

 

Turning back to Gladys with a semblance of polite interest, Cooper interjected with a bemused smile, “So…you want me to, off the guy–because he stepped on your petunias?”  The job sounded easy enough, 25 caps. Good money for a quick, no-nonsense task.

 

Gladys nodded,  her frail hands shaking slightly as she spoke. “Yes. My Stanley planted those flowers, and he passed away last month..”

 

Cooper paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on her. “Alright. Works for me. Where can I find him?” He wasn’t exactly moved by the sob story, but a job was a job.

 

Gladys relayed the information, her voice firm, pointing out the man’s likely whereabouts just outside of town. “It's that lone building out there. It’s abandoned ,” she added with extra flare. "You'll know him by the red bandana he has tied at the neck."

 

Cooper nodded, his mind already darting ahead to plan his approach. Walking away– Behind him, Hank shuffled along, his disbelief evident in every shake of his head.

 

“ I mean, not that I don’t secretly hope she dumps you over this,” Hank quipped, “but do you really think Lucy’s gonna be okay with you killing a guy just for trampling some flowers?”

 

Cooper paused, giving Hank a sidelong look. The vivid memory of Lucy's disapproving frown flashed through his mind, quickly followed by a stinging image of her smiling at Max. He exhaled sharply, Shaking off the thoughts, he resumed his determined stride toward the outskirts of Filly. “I’ll work on my apology speech.”

--—888888—---

 

Lucy and Max dropped their sacks of radroach guts with a dull thud at the butcher’s counter. The man behind it was a portrait of hardship—legs swathed in dirty bandages, one arm cradled in a sling, his nose an awkward angle on his face. He grunted, the sound rough in his throat, as he handed over 10 caps.

 

“Thanks,” Lucy murmured, sliding the coins into her pocket. Her eyes wandered, taking in the stark emptiness of the shop. Shelves that should have groaned under the weight of goods stood desolate, barren except for dust. “What happened here?” Her voice was soft, touched with concern as she frowned at the emptiness.

 

The butcher exhaled a weary breath that seemed to deflate him. “Bandits,” he growled, the bitterness in his tone as palpable as the chill in the air. “Night raids. They take what they want.”

 

Max's brow creased with concern. “And no one’s stopped them? This close to town?”

 

Darkness clouded the butcher’s eyes, “Ghouls,” he spat. “Fast ones. Last time, they took my meat and they took my…daughter.”

 

A sharp pang twisted in Lucy’s gut, “Why haven’t you gone after her?” The question escaped her lips before she could rein it in, propelled by a surge of impulsive empathy.

 

The butcher’s glare was a knife, “Are you fucking blind?” he snapped,. “Look at me! My legs are broken–What am I supposed to do?”

 

Lucy flinched, regret stinging her cheeks. “I didn’t mean—”

 

“Hey, cool it,” Max intervened, 

 

Lucy drew a deep, steadying breath, her words emerging gentler, tinged with determination. “I meant, isn’t there someone you could hire? Some way to send help?”

 

Resignation sagged the butcher’s shoulders further. “No one's dumb enough to chase a pack of ghouls. ”

 

A weight settled on Lucy’s shoulders, heavy with responsibility and an unspoken challenge. Cooper could take them, she thought, but voicing it felt like tipping a scale she wasn’t ready to balance. I could avoid some ghouls.

 

“I’ll do it.” The words were out before she fully grasped their weight.

 

Max and the butcher stared, their expressions mirroring each other in disbelief. “What?” they echoed.

 

“I’ll go,” Lucy affirmed, her voice steady. Right. She was physically capable.

 

Max moved closer, his voice a low murmur meant only for her. “Lucy, You don’t have to do this.”

 

Turning to face him, Lucy’s gaze held a quiet intensity, a spark that wasn’t there before. “I know,” she replied softly, then looked back at the butcher, her decision echoing in the hollow space of the shop. “But I want to.” 

 

—-8888888—--

 

Lucy and Max navigated the perimeter of the water tower, its silhouette crumbling against the darkening sky—Above, clouds gathered in a tumultuous dance, the grays deepening as if to match the mood below. Max squinted toward a distant building, his brow furrowed with concern shooting a glance at Lucy. “I thought you were supposed to stay in town,” he muttered.

 

Hunkered down, Lucy felt the breeze lift Cooper's hat slightly, the fabric fluttering like a captured bird eager for escape. She beckoned Max with a subtle nod. “We’re barely out of town,” she whispered. The horizon bled into vibrant strokes of orange and purple as the sun made its retreat, casting long shadows that seemed to reach for them. “And the sun’s going down soon. The butcher said they leave their hideout at night to raid more of Filly.”

 

Max’s hand shifted on his weapon, the grip tightening as if to draw strength from the steel. “What if they don’t leave tonight?”

 

Lucy reached out, her touch light on his shoulder, “Look, I need to help– I…”

sorta Killed two men in cold blood, and I kinda feel bad about it. 

“ –At the very least, I just want to check things out." She rushed out. "Maybe I can sneak in and out without anyone noticing.” Her gaze locked with his, a clear pool of resolve in the fading light. “I promise, if it gets too dangerous, I’ll pull back.”

 

Max studied her for a moment, his eyes searching her face for any hint of doubt. Finally, he nodded, the tension in his jaw easing slightly but never fully disappearing.

 

—

 

They made it to the outside of the building , so far, so good. 

 

As the first hints of rain began to pepper the ground, Lucy and Max skirted the shadowed edge of the dilapidated building. The evening chill wrapped around them, tightening as the sky overhead promised a storm. Each step was cautious, their movements a silent ballet between the shards of broken glass and rubble that littered their path. They paused, crouched beneath a window frame whose glass had long since given way to the elements, when the soft shuffle of footsteps halted them. They pressed their backs against the damp brick, nearly jumping when a pair of small, dirt-smudged feet appeared abruptly between them.

 

They looked up sharply to find a young girl, her eyes wide orbs, shimmering with surprise and fear. Before either could whisper a reassurance, more rustling sounds came from just beyond the wall. Instinctively, the girl flattened herself against the stone, her body small and quivering like a cornered animal.

 

Lucy raised her gray finger to her lips. Be quiet , she mouthed, The girl’s eyes met Lucy’s and hesitantly, she nodded, her breathing quick and thin.

 

Lucy allowed herself a momentary smirk. This was easy. The confidence surged through her as she beckoned Max and the girl to follow her, moving back toward the cover of the tower’s shadow. Her mind ticked through the next steps, each scenario running like a film reel.

 

They crouched near old machinery, muddy ground that stretched ominously before them. Lucy scanned the area, The rain, now a steady drizzle, soaked through their clothes, sticking the fabric to their skin and making the ground slick beneath their boots.

 

Turning to the girl, Lucy leaned in, her voice a soft whisper against the backdrop of rain. “Hi, my name is Lucy, and this is Max. Your dad sent us.” She watched the girl’s face transform as hope flickered in her eyes like a candle in the wind.

 

“He did?” The girl’s voice was a mix of disbelief and longing, her words barely audible over the sound of the rain.

 

Before Lucy could answer, a gunshot split the thickening air, hurling a clump of dirt into the sky close by. All three instinctively flinched, Max’s eyes darting to pinpoint a brick wall from which the threat emanated. “There!” he barked.

 

The little girl, spurred by survival, sprinted first. Max met her there and with urgent hands, boosted—threw her over the wall. A soft thud echoed back, followed by her breathless affirmation, “I’m okay!”

 

Just as a sigh of relief began to unfurl within her—Lucy’s eyes snapped wide as a sinister red dot danced across Max’s back. Thought gave way to reflex. She lunged forward, her body a shield before him. The sharp report of a rifle tore through the rain, and agony exploded across her back, a chilling numbness dragging her down to the muddy earth.

 

“Ahh…” The groan escaped her lips.

 

Max twisted, face etched with panic. “No—Oh my—”

 

“I’ll be okay!” Lucy’s voice was a raspy whisper, “Get the girl out of here—find Cooper!”

 

Confusion etched deep lines in Max's brow as he processed her words, but then his gaze dropped to the slow, almost magical knitting of her skin beneath the torn fabric of her jumpsuit. She was healing. Just then, another sniper’s red dot sought its mark—this time on Max’s chest. He rolled just as the shot cracked through the air, the bullet grazing the wet stone where he'd been seconds ago. He landed awkwardly, a jolt of pain shooting through his ankle.

 

“Fu—” His curse was gritted, pained, his eyes flicking back to Lucy who was attempting to reposition herself despite her limbs' protest.

 

“I can carry you—” he began, hobbling toward her.

 

But the sharp report of gunfire split the air again.

 

Lucy shook her head, her voice strained but clear. “You can’t get away fast enough with me. Go—find Cooper!”

 

Max’s jaw clenched, and he made to lift her, his resolve battling the apparent impracticality. “I can—”

 

“Please!” Her shout sliced through the drumming rain.

 

With a pained grimace, Max looked from Lucy to the nearing footsteps. He lowered her back against the cold, wet wall, the rain mingling with the tears of frustration. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

 

Lucy nodded, her body sprawled helplessly as the rain soaked her more thoroughly, plastering her hair to her face and turning the ground beneath her into a cold slurry. As Max vaulted over the wall, disappearing with a labored grunt, Lucy turned her gaze forward.

 

The approaching men in a uniform of Red bandanas slowed, uncertainty flickering across their faces as they took in the solitary figure before them—her body trembling with the shocks of healing. Her muscles ached until the final realignment clicked within her spine, a surge of renewed euphoria strength coursed through her. She raised her hands, her lips curling into a hesitant smile. “Hi,”

 

—-88888888—--

 

Max limped his way back to Filly, each step sending jolts of pain through his ankle. The rain finally ceased, the streets begining to fill with the bustling noise of the town coming back to life. He gripped the girl's hand tightly, weaving through the crowded market, his eyes darting among the throng for any sign of the butcher or another familiar face. The girl struggled to keep up, her small legs pumping furiously to match his urgent pace.

 

When Max finally spotted the butcher, relief washed over him. The man was seated near the market, hunched and despondent in a weather-beaten chair, his bandaged legs stretched out awkwardly in front of him. Gathering his last reserves of strength, Max almost stumbled in his haste. He pushed through the last few feet and presented the girl to the butcher, gasping out, "I found her." 

 

The butcher’s gaze slowly lifted, “Who the hell is that?” 

 

Max paused, He glanced from the trembling girl to the butcher, “Your daughter.” he said.

 

The girl’s wide eyes flitted to Max  “I’m not his daughter,” she said. Then with a sudden burst, she turned and fled down the street, her small figure quickly swallowed up by the crowd.

 

The butcher sighed heavily, his irritation palpable “That’s not my kid. Must be one of the other kids,” he waved a hand as though brushing away the error like a bothersome fly.

 

Max’s jaw clenched, “What other kids?!” 

 

---

 

He pushing back through the crowd, his limp more pronounced as his frustration fueled his movements. “Have you seen The Ghoul? A vault dweller?” he called out.

 

Finally, a glimpse of blue and yellow snagged his attention. “Hank!” he called out, spotting Lucy’s father settled comfortably dry on a set of patio chairs. 

 

Hank’s leisurely demeanor snapped to alertness at the urgency in Max’s voice. He rose swiftly, his face etched with concern. “Maxwell,” he acknowledged.

 

Max staggered to a halt, gasping for air. “Maximus, actually—but that’s not–,” he panted, his words rushed and heavy with urgency. “Where’s the Ghoul? It’s Lucy—she’s been captured.”

 

The color drained from Hank’s face, his earlier calm shattered. “What?!” he gasped.

 

—-888888888—--

 

Cooper skirted the building’s edge like a shadow, blending into the dimming light of dusk. His movements were measured and silent. He approached a window framed by jagged remnants of glass, he paused, his silhouette a stark contrast against the darkening sky. He thought briefly of Hank, whom he'd instructed to stay back. The old man had offered no resistance, an uncharacteristic submission that Cooper silently acknowledged. He had chosen to venture out just as the rain had stopped and the sun was sinking, ensuring the cover of twilight for his approach.

 

With a deliberate motion, Cooper kicked the glass remnants clinging to the frame,The shards danced briefly in the air before settling with a chorus of tiny clinks on the concrete floor inside. 

 

Satisfied, Cooper grasped the window's battered sill, his fingers finding grip on the rough, weathered wood. With a grunt, he hoisted himself through the window, his body twisting agilely as he maneuvered through the narrow opening. He landed inside with a muffled thud, crouching instantly to meld with the scant shadows.

 

Dominating the center of the room, stood a massive cage. Inside—

 

He shifted his left hip out, His eyes take in every detail of the fearful children. With a slow exhale, he let out a single, " Huh."

 

Chapter 18: Take me to Church

Notes:

As always please enjoy! I really liked writing this chapter. Comments and Kudos are the fuel that keeps me going! <3

 

The rough bag was yanked from Lucy's head, strands of her damp hair clinging in tufts to her forehead. She blinked against the harsh glare of an overhead light, squinting as her eyes adjusted.

 

Her arms were bound tightly behind her, the restraints biting into her wrists as she shifted on the stool. Guilt flickered briefly when she noticed the absence of Cooper's hat— oops…

 

“Who are you?”

 

Lucy's gaze snapped toward the voice, settling on the figure across from her—a well-worn ghoul, her weathered, sallow skin accentuated by a vivid red bandanna. It clashed starkly with her sunken features, drawing attention to her sharp, probing eyes.

 

Forcing a tentative smile, Lucy managed, “My name is Lucy—”

 

“Why ya here, dweller?” The woman’s voice cut through the room like a blade, blunt and without hesitation.

 

Lucy swallowed down her nervousness. “I was hired by a father to rescue his daughter.”

 

The woman raised a skeptical brow, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips. “Rescue his daughter?” she echoed, her tone laden with doubt.

 

Lucy nodded quickly. “That’s it. I have no interest in your... affairs. The girl’s home now. I just wanted to do the right thing—you know, maybe reconsider holding anyone captive, especially children—”

 

“It was a mistake,” the woman interrupted coolly. “One of my men got a bit too enthusiastic with his intimidation tactics. We’re not going after the girl.”

 

Relief washed over Lucy, and her shoulders sagged. “Oh, that’s... great!” She scanned the woman’s face for any sign of leniency. “So... could I go now?... Please?”

 

The woman leaned forward, resting her elbows on the battered table between them, her eyes narrowing as a faint smile curled her lips. “How fresh are you, darlin’?” she asked, amusement flickering in her voice. “And you can call me Rene.”

 

Lucy’s smile tightened as she fought to remain polite. “Nice to meet you, Rene. I... um, I don’t exactly know how long I’ve been like this. Less than a year, maybe.”

 

“Less than six months, I’d wager,” Rene said with a knowing nod, her eyes scanning Lucy with sharp curiosity. “You got a group? Anyone lookin’ for you?”

 

At the mention of companions, a genuine smile broke through Lucy's nerves. “Yes, my Father and Partner.” 

 

Rene’s expression shifted slightly. “Partner?”

 

Lucy shifted her jaw, “ehhh, Husband?” she tried. Not sure if once sounded less ominous than the other.

 

Renes' shoulders deflated slightly. “I see.” she tapped her fingers on the table. “They comin’ for you?”

 

A small ripple of unease passed through Lucy. “Yes... they know I’m here.”

 

Rene's face tightened for a brief second, but she quickly masked it with a polite smile. “Well then, why don’t you join the festivities while you wait for ‘em?”

 

“Festivities?” Lucy asked, her brow furrowing.

 

Rene stood abruptly, a grin spreading across her weathered face. “A Wedding! Meet some folks, grab a bite. It’s not every day you get to enjoy some hospitality.”

 

She motioned to the two ghouls standing by. “Untie her. I’d like to get back to the party.”

 

The guards moved forward, their touch surprisingly gentle as they lifted Lucy from the chair and loosened the ropes biting into her wrists.

---

 

Cooper’s jaw clenched so tightly that the grind of his teeth nearly cut through the raucous laughter and drunken shouts bouncing off the narrow corridors. Ghouls—dozens of them—celebrating. His vision tunneled, Gladys is gonna pay. He'd make sure every last one of her rotting teeth was accounted for by the time he was done.

 

Five ghouls down. Every one of them had been sporting those cursed red bandannas, and not a single one carried the ridiculously oversized skeleton key he needed to open the cage. 

Damn waste of time. Cooper flexed his fingers, knuckles cracking in the tense silence between the sounds of celebration. His last takedown had been especially brutal—a ghoul’s skull had met the blade four times. This detour sure as hell isn’t gonna fatten my pockets.

 

Above, the party raged, a chaotic storm of noise, laughter, and the sharp clinks of bottles crashing together. Gladys had said there'd be one target. One . Yet here he was, stalking through halls crawling with red-bandanna-wearing ghouls, each one armed in their own special way. He moved like a shadow, a silent predator. How many more of these red-bandanna-wearing mother— His thought was interrupted as a figure shuffled into view from the corner of his eye.

 

He rounded the corner, his arm snapping around the ghoul’s throat like a vice. The guard gasped, his bony fingers clawing desperately at Cooper’s forearm, He dragged the struggling ghoul to the ground in one swift, ruthless motion, the man's breath sputtering out as Cooper’s grip tightened.

 

---

 

Rene’s group, an imposing cadre of red bandanna sprouting ghouls, had come upon another group of stragglers not long ago, integrating them into their ranks with a deft mix of diplomacy and dominance.

 

Around a trash bin on fire, the group toasted to the upcoming marriage ceremony between two of their members.

 

Lucy, relatively new to the intricacies of ghoul politics, found herself circled by the women of the group. As they shared their stories, their advice for Lucy took on a more ominous tone, echoing the harshness of their lives. "Capitalize on your freshness, sweetheart," one of the ghoul women advised, "Out here, being new is your best asset. You could rake in thousands of caps in no time." 

 

Another ghoul had been relaying her time as the Jacobstown Doctor. She leaned in with a sly grin. “So when I realized he couldn’t read, I rushed in– saying ‘ Stop! ‘Remove her liver , not her kidney.’”

A few ghouls chuckled, their laughter rough and low.

 

The woman shrugged, “Anyway, that’s why my sister won’t talk to me.” The group erupted into amused snickers. 

 

The laughter and music swirled around Lucy, but her thoughts threaded carefully through a maze of caution and realization. Her gaze drifted over the revelers, taking in every detail. Amid the lively chaos, only two other ghouls wore a red bandanna like Rene’s, and the sight stirred a twinge of suspicion deep in her gut. Rene’s earlier questions echoed in her mind—her phrasing too pointed, too curious, as if she’d been fishing for more than casual answers.

 

Lucy’s eyes scanned the room, mentally cataloging everything. Six tables were placed across the space, evenly divided by a path that led straight to a small stage at the far end of the room. The decorations, surprisingly tasteful for something thrown together in the Wasteland, Red flowers adorned the center of each table, their petals vibrant against the worn wood, lending the room a strange sense of elegance.

 

Across the dance floor, Lucy spotted the faint gleam of what looked like an exit tucked near the back wall. She logged it in her mind. Just as she turned, preparing her next move, she found herself face-to-face with Rene.

---

 

Cooper scanned the dimly lit supply room, his eyes narrowing as he took in the jumbled stacks of boxes and crates. Looked like these ghouls had been raiding the town for provisions, grabbing whatever they could in bulk. The room was cluttered with mismatched supplies—random, sporadic, as if whatever they hadn't used for their so-called party had just been tossed in here. 

 

The padlock on the door was a joke—had been, anyway. It now lay discarded on the floor next to the former guard.

 

Something glinted, catching his eye. Cooper's hand brushed against the hilt of a small dagger, its blade still sharp despite the dust that clung to it. He lifted it, admiring the craftsmanship—a simple but sturdy weapon, perfect for close encounters. An image of Lucy flashed in his mind; this would suit her well. Cooper tucked the blade into his belt, and continued.

 

Cooper lifted the lid of a wooden crate, pursing his lips. Half of this junk wasn't even worth the effort. Candle sticks, old linens, useless trinkets. They’d just slow him down..

 

A low groan behind him froze him in place. He turned slowly, gaze falling on the guard "Huh…” he muttered, sliding his knife from its sheath. He crouched down beside the man, studying the pale, clammy face.

 

"Hang on, buddy," Cooper said quietly.

 

---

 

“Are you having fun?” Rene's voice sliced through the noise, her eyes scanning Lucy's face with a probing intensity.

 

Lucy forced brightness into her tone, “Yes!” The word burst out too loud, She dropped her gaze quickly, anxiety curling tight in her stomach like a warning she couldn’t quite place. She felt a lazy tingle through her limbs, blurring the edges of her thoughts. I should leave...  

Her voice came out light and playful. “Maybe I could just slip outside... wait for my dad and husband when they get here.”

 

Before the thought could settle, Rene’s hand landed firmly on her shoulder, grounding her with a touch that felt far too intentional.

 

“I think it’s better if you stay here, sweetheart,” Rene said. She gave Lucy’s shoulder a friendly squeeze— “Can’t have you wandering off alone. My guards are a little jumpy... they might mistake you for a thief.” Rene chuckled softly, glancing across the room to wave at someone. 

 

Lucy stared at the cup, the smell of alcohol sharp and cloying in her nose. 

 

Rene’s voice remained light, “Don’t worry, we’ll bring you to your group as soon as they arrive.” The promise was so casually spoken that it felt almost dismissive.

 

Before Lucy could question it, Rene turned away, already slipping back into the heart of the celebration. She wrapped the bride in a warm embrace, her laughter blending seamlessly into the raucous revelry. 

 

The cup in her hand swayed slightly as she adjusted her grip, and Lucy felt the weight of the decision pressing down on her— “Screw that,” she muttered under her breath. She steadied herself just enough to swing back her drink. The liquid burned its way down her throat. Lucy had little interest in repeating her lifelong struggle of doing as she was told or staying where she didn’t want to be. 

 

The laughter and music swirled around Lucy, Her gaze drifted, catching Rene’s eye for the briefest moment. Rene stood in the center of it all, hands planted on her hips. There was a proprietary edge to the way she surveyed the room—like everything and everyone in it belonged to her. Lucy swallowed again, that flicker of unease deepening

 

 Her pulse quickened, and before she could second-guess herself, her gaze darted toward the darkened alcove tucked just out of view—a pocket of shadows

 

She moved slowly through the room, chatting here and there, her words light but calculated, slipping between conversations like smoke. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she pivoted, slipping unnoticed into the hidden door.

The dimly lit hallway stretched out before her, shadows flickering along the walls as if beckoning her deeper. Each step she took carried her further from the hum of laughter and clinking glasses,

 

At the end of the corridor, a rusted staircase appeared, its metal frame sturdy despite the wear of time. Lucy gripped the railing. She took the first few steps downward, then paused mid-stride, holding her breath as her ears strained for any signs of movement beyond the silence.

 

---

 

Cooper found himself in a dusty, pre-war chef's kitchen, the remnants of a bygone era lingering in the air. The model of the stove was familiar, but before he could make out the model,The ghoul behind him swung the heavy appliance door with brutal force. It connected with a sickening crunch, and Cooper felt the sharp, white-hot sensation of his skull cracking under the impact. The bone gave way with an agonizing pressure. 

 

“AHg—” Cooper grunted, instinctively raking his elbow back into the ghoul's groin. The assailant groaned, staggering back with a gasp that echoed in the barren space.

 

Shaking off  dizziness, Cooper stood–stumbled up from the stove, vision swirling as a head rush hit him. “Fuck—” he muttered. The red-bandanna-wearing ghoul regained his composure, standing straighter before throwing a wild punch. Cooper blocked it with a wax-on motion, then countered with a swift kick to the man’s sternum.

 

The ghoul groaned again, doubling over as sand from the old floor puffed into the air. As he bent, he lunged for Cooper’s–Lucy’s knife holstered at his hip. Grabbing it, the ghoul surged to his feet, swiping the blade in a desperate arc.

 

Cooper jumped back, colliding with an ancient wooden table that creaked under his weight. The ghoul plunged the knife down, but Cooper twisted out of reach, feeling the rush of air as the blade narrowly missed him. “I’ll kill you!” the bandit shouted, voice raspy and filled with rage.

 

Cooper slipped on the sandy ground, barely regaining his footing as he ducked again, narrowly avoiding another wild swing. “ Jesus —tone it down.” he retorted, grimacing as he stood taller, adrenaline surging through him.

 

The man thrust the knife low with his left hand, and Cooper caught it just before the blade could slice into his side. In a fluid motion, Cooper seized the ghoul’s other hand and drove his forehead into the ghoul’s face with brutal force.

 

The impact sent a jolt of searing pain through Cooper’s skull, the fracture from the earlier blow splitting wider under the force. His vision pulsed violently, a hot wave of dizziness washing over him as the pain bloomed behind his eyes.

 

The crunch of the ghoul’s teeth echoed through the cramped kitchen, and both of them staggered back, swaying like two drunks. Sand swirled around them in gritty spirals, as they each took a moment to catch their breath. Cooper pressed a hand to his throbbing temple.

 

He locked eyes with the ghoul, who let out a primal scream. “AhhH!” He lunged at Cooper again, bringing the knife overhead with a wild swing. He reacted, catching the man’s arms above their heads and driving forward, pinning him against the table.

 

The ghoul spat in Cooper’s face, dry, radiated black blood splattering against his skin. “I’ll never stop coming after you!” he snarled, his voice dripping with venom.

 

Cooper’s brow furrowed in confusion, his muscles trembling as he fought to restrain the ghoul’s relentless downward thrust. “Why!?” 

 

The ghoul swung his knee up, aiming to cripple Cooper with a low blow. He missed anything vital, but the hard boot slammed into Cooper’s knee with brutal precision. A wave of numbness shot up his leg, nearly buckling him. Before he could recover, the ghoul surged forward, shoving him back with unexpected force, sending Cooper staggering into the open

.

Gritting his teeth, Cooper regained his footing and twisted his grip on the ghoul’s arm. With a sharp yank, he forced it downward, the joint popping under the sudden torque. Cooper didn’t hesitate—his other hand drove the blade upward, the point sliding clean through the ghoul’s chest, finding its mark with a sickening precision. 

 

The ghoul’s body slackened, the life snuffed from it in an instant. His weight crumpled against the table, toppling with a dull, heavy thud. Cooper dropped to his knees beside him, every muscle screaming from the fight. A ragged sigh slipped from his lips, shoulders slumping as the adrenaline bled from his system, leaving behind a raw ache that clawed at every nerve. Blood clung to his brow, tracing jagged paths down his face, mingling with the sticky warmth of the other ghoul’s blood. The crimson dripped sluggishly onto the sandy floor, dark and dull under the low light.

 

“That’s right,” he muttered, his tongue flicking against his split bottom lip, tasting the sharp tang of copper. A dull throb pulsed through his skull, each beat sharper than the last. “Fuckin’...” He sucked in a shaky breath, wincing as the pain in his head flared, like a fracture splitting down the center of his brain. “Bitch…”

 

His knees wobbled slightly as he let his head drop forward, eyelids fluttering shut. The world tilted beneath him, and for a moment, all he could do was sit. The pounding in his skull drummed louder, the ache spreading like slow poison through the back of his neck.

 

With a low grunt, Cooper forced his eyes open. His vision swam, but he reached out, dragging the ghoul’s limp body closer. A flicker of wariness stirred in him, and he dug his blade in once more—

 

--

 

Staggering into the dark hallway, Cooper's knees buckled. He slammed a shoulder into the wall, catching himself. His breath came ragged, uneven—lungs burning like they were running on fumes. Head injuries always felt like the slowest to heal—like they operated on their own broken timeline, every pulse of pain disjointed and out of sync with the rest of his body.

 

Slumped in a shadowed corner, he pressed his head against the cool wall, the chill was a soothing bite to his skin. His jaw flexed, muscles knotting as he ground his teeth against the dull, relentless throb building behind his eyes— The pain radiated outward, disorienting but familiar. A low groan slipped from his lips.

 

Suddenly, a shadow moved in his peripheral vision. He stilled, instincts sharpening as a figure stood before him in the dark.  The silhouette peeked around the corner, and Cooper's pupils dilated in the dim light.

 

The first thing he noticed was the familiar scent—a faint, electric pulse of radiation, sharp and metallic at the edges, the telltale stench of a ghoul. It buzzed beneath the surface, prickling at his senses. But then something else crept in, blooming beneath the radiation—a scent rich and syrupy-sweet, like sun-warmed fruit on the verge of rotting.

 

It clung to the air, heavy and coy, leaving the sensation of something sticky coating his tongue. His mouth watered before he could stop it, a reflexive hunger stirring somewhere deep. 

His throat clicked.  

You've gotta be shitting me

 

---

 

Lucy weaved through the dark, unlit room, her steps uneven as the floor seemed to tilt beneath her. She blinked slowly, trying to focus, her mind swimming. The space looked familiar, kind of like the other dim corridors they’d walked through earlier, but... it also didn’t.

“Uuhgg...”

 

The sound startled her. She flinched, swaying dangerously to the side before catching herself against the wall, heart thudding out of sync. Where... where did that come from? Her pulse beat hard in her ears, erratic and dizzying, and her thoughts bounced aimlessly between confusion and curiosity.

 

I haven’t seen a single guard... 

 

Her brow furrowed, and she leaned too far forward to peek around the corner. She squinted hard, but everything stayed just a little out of focus. And then—

 

A hand clamped over her mouth, yanking her backward before she could even yelp. Another hand pinned her arms behind her, locking her in place. The room spun wildly as panic surged through her, making her feel even more off-balance. Her knees wobbled, but whoever held her was steady, not letting her fall.

 

Her eyes widened, and her heart catapulted into her throat, pounding against the grip of fear and alcohol clouding her mind. She squirmed, twisting against the restraint, but it only made her head swim worse. Warm breath grazed her ear, sending a shiver down her spine as a low, familiar voice rumbled— “ You ever been spanked? ”

 

The words rippled through Lucy, sinking deep into her core, pulsing in time with the alcohol swirling in her veins. Cooper? For a moment, her mind struggled to grasp the reality— how did he get in? Then relief crashed over her like a warm tide, washing away the knots that had coiled tight in her chest. Her knees buckled slightly, but she was held upright by his presence, A heated exhale escaped her lips, muffled against his fingers as they gently released her mouth.

 

He shifted her with a firm tug, pressing her chest against the cold wall. Lucy twisted her head to the side, gasping for air like a drowning woman breaching the surface, her breath hot and shallow.

 

His voice rumbled low, a deep vibration that seemed to radiate through her bones. “What the hell are you doing here?”

 

The words brushed her ear, each syllable curling. She could feel the heat of him at her back. Solid and unyielding. Daring her to squirm away. His breath was warm on her skin, carrying the faintest trace of smoke and worn leather, undercut by the sharp, electric scent she was beginning to recognize as radiation. It all buzzed at the edges of her senses.

 

He leaned in even closer, his tone dipping into something rougher, more dangerous. “And where,” he growled, “ is my hat ?”

 

Cooper's head still throbbed with a dull, jagged ache, the pain ebbing in waves. But A new feeling was beginning to distract him.

 

A tremor shivered through her, subtle but enough to press her closer against him. She wasn’t struggling anymore. No, now she was melting—

 

Lucy feigned a weak struggle against the wall, “Didn’t Max come get you?” she breathed, her words shaky and half-lost between quickening pulses.

 

Cooper’s grip on her wrists tightened, his fingers rough but precise, pulling her arms down with deliberate control. The motion stretched her taut, a slow rhythm that unraveled her thoughts with every inch. Her breath hitched, as the sensation left her feeling suspended between restraint and release.

 

“No,” he murmured, his voice scraped along her senses like gravel dragged across stone. His lips brushed just above the curve of her ear. “ I only left you alone for a few hours …” he said.

 

He released her wrists, pulling her arms apart and lifting them until her palms pressed flat against the wall. With a smooth shift, he slid his leg between hers, nudging gently until her knees gave way, encouraging her to part them.

 

What is he... Lucy gulped, heat pooling low in her belly, making it hard to string her thoughts together. “I... I rescued a child,” she managed, her voice trembling but laced with conviction.

 

“Keep your hands on the wall,” he said, the command slow and deliberate.  His hands drifted down to her hips, guiding her with a steady rhythm, coaxing her to arch her back. The curve of her body aligned with his, and a low moan slipped past her lips as he pressed his cock against her.

 

“Only one?” he asked, voice lighter now, almost teasing, as his hands stayed on her hips, feeling the subtle sway of her movements against him. The slow grind of her hips sent a low buzz through his nerves, stirring a heat that made him tighten his grip.

 

Lucy’s brow furrowed as she fought to stay steady, forcing herself not to lean further into him. “I—yes, only one. They weren’t upset...”

 

Cooper rolled his neck back with a soft groan, his eyes closing briefly. The heat of her body threatened to overtake him after being wound too tight for the last hour.

 

“That’s because they’ve got seven more downstairs,” he said, the words a low rasp.

 

Lucy’s body stiffened, shock rippling through her like an electric current. “What—” she blurted, louder than she meant, the sound bouncing off the walls. She tried to straighten, her urgency surging forward, but Cooper’s hand was already there—pressing against her shoulder blades and guiding her back down.

 

His hips shifted, grinding against her in a way that sent a jolt of unexpected pleasure through her core. A soft moan escaped her lips before she could stop it, her breath catching as heat curled deep inside her, betraying her. For a moment, the line between control and surrender blurred, but she shook her head, urgency cutting through the haze clouding her mind.

 

Her voice was tight “We have to save them—” 

 

A sharp slap cracked against her left cheek, the impact jolting through her skin and radiating in a bright, stinging bloom. She sucked in a sharp breath, the sudden pain biting, but the thrill that followed was instantaneous—electric and heady, spreading like wildfire through her veins. The sting danced along the edge of pleasure.

Cooper pressed his body against hers, the heat of him sinking into her like a brand. His thumb traced over the tender spot on her cheek, rubbing small circles that teased the lingering sting. “That’s what I’ve been doing…” he said.

 

Lucy turned her head slowly, neck stretching as she met his gaze with soft, wide eyes, surprise flickering beneath. “Really—” 

 

Another slap landed with precision, a sharp crack that sent a jolt through her. Her ass cheek stung with fresh heat, the sensation blossoming across her skin like a spark catching fire. Her head tilted back instinctively, a soft gasp slipping out as her eyes fluttered closed

 

Suddenly, she was spun around. Her back hit the wall with a soft thud, strands of hair brushing against her flushed cheeks. Before she could catch her breath, Cooper’s lips collided with hers—urgent, hungry, demanding. The kiss tasted of heat and possession, with the sharp tang of alcohol lingering on her lips— she’s been drinking.

 

His body pressed into hers, every inch of him anchoring her in place. His right arm slid down the curve of her waist, gripping her with effortless strength. In one smooth motion, he pulled her upward, lifting her onto her tiptoes. His lips moved against hers, as if he was determined to claim every gasp, every shiver.

 

He drew back just enough for their lips to hover dangerously close, His gaze locked onto hers, dark and unreadable, “Those slaps,” he said. his voice low and rough, “were for not listening to me.”

 

His thumb brushed the edge of her jaw, “You understand?” he whispered

Yes –She nodded lightly, entranced by his presence. 

 

“Now, I want you to go back to the party—” She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off with a knowing look, “—I assumed you’d been invited, maybe even helped decorate?”

 

Lucy bit down on a smile, warmth pooling in her chest.

 

But Cooper’s expression shifted, his playful edge dimming into something more serious. “I got more stuff to handle out here before grabbing the kids, and there’s the matter of finding a key…” He trailed off, leaning in close, and before she could respond, his lips brushed against hers again.

When he pulled back, his dark eyes softened, fixing her with a gaze she hadn’t expected—something almost pleading “Keep whatever guards are in that room distracted. Please– fur me ?”

 

Lucy nodded, her wide eyes shining with sincerity. “Okie dokie,” she breathed.

 

He kissed her again, slower this time, his lips brushing against hers with a tenderness that sent a thrilling jolt deep through her. His fingers slid through the damp strands of her brown hair.

 

With a subtle shift, Cooper leaned back, resting his right shoulder against the wall beside her. He exhaled deeply, his head clearer now, fully healed from the dull throb that had clouded his thoughts earlier. The rush of clarity settled in, — I shouldn't have done that…

The thought surfaced briefly, But it didn’t stay— like a stone skipping across water. He let it pass. Instead, he rolled his neck and sighed again, content to enjoy the moment as it was, the warmth of her still pressed close–

 

“What you’ve been drinkin’? Save me some, ‘kay?” Cooper said lightly.

 

Lucy—permanently flushed, didn’t look away—“There’s plenty to go around. It actually got pretty good after the tenth sip,” she teased, a soft laugh curling at the edges of her words.

 

Cooper arched a brow, amusement flickering in his gaze as he twisted a loose lock of her hair around his finger, letting the soft strands coil against his calloused skin. The weight of him shifted subtly, and with a smooth motion, he leaned closer, tilting her gently against the wall. 

 

“Wait for me before you drink more?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.  He didn’t want to deny her the indulgence of Rad Brew—the potent moonshine cut with the most dangerous, radiation-laced water this side of the Wastes. Sludge optional. It hit harder than anything else, and ghouls loved it—for the way it numbed the sharp edges of their existence, leaving them suspended in blissful intoxication longer than any other brew for humans. 

 

Lucy nodded, a reflexive inhale filling her lungs as she draped her arms around his neck. He was definitely onto something. Memories flickered through her mind—nights in the vault spent drowning in too much alcohol, the warmth of tipsy laughter turning to blurry regret by morning. The repercussions had always hit harder than expected, and yep, this felt dangerously close to one of those nights.

 

She tilted her head back, meeting his gaze with a sheepish smile, the buzz in her veins making her feel lighter. “I think that’s a good idea,” she admitted softly. 

 

Cooper leaned down, capturing her lips in a slow, deliberate kiss that sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach. When he pulled away, Lucy’s gaze lingered on him, her breath unsteady as her heart raced with affection and curiosity.

 

“If Max didn’t get you... why are you here?” she asked, brow furrowing slightly, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

 

Cooper shrugged, “I’m avenging a vandalized memorial,” he said.

 

Lucy couldn’t help but smile, warmth spreading through her “That’s so sweet of you!”

 

Cooper scrunched up his face, “Isn’t it?”

 

---

 

Lucy was laughing, her voice bright and infectious as she exchanged stories with a lively group of ghouls gathered around her. She had sobered some—while the air buzzed with raucous laughter and the cheerful clinking of glasses, As she animatedly recounted her latest adventure, the ghouls leaned in, captivated and eager to join in the merriment.

 

Just then, Rene approached, a knowing smile dancing on her lips. “See? Isn’t this better than waiting to see if your husband will show?” she remarked.

 

— Eyeroll — Lucy chuckled, her carefree spirit shining through. “Yes, I never should have worried about him coming,” she replied.

 

Rene nodded in agreement, “My men have never come to inform me that anyone has arrived—”

 

Lucy playfully cut her off, her grin wide. “Well, it’s not like they’d know.”

 

Rene was confused by Lucy’s statement. “Are you sure they’re coming? We could always make a place for you here. Maybe you’ll ‘ meet’ another ghoul—”

 

“Oh, my husband is a ghoul,” Lucy interjected, her voice brimming with pride. Rene's expression shifted to surprise.

 

“Oh, I guess I assumed since you were a vault dweller—”

 

The women in the group leaned closer, curiosity sparking in their eyes. “How’d you meet your man? Did you fall for him while you were still human?”

 

Lucy felt a blush creeping into her cheeks. “Yes—we met after I surfaced. He held me hostage—” The group erupted in playful “ Awws ,” and someone from the back quipped, “ So romantic…”

 

Lucy smiled sheepishly, shaking her head in mock apology to the crowd. “I’m sure he doesn’t want me talking about him when he isn’t here—”

 

The words were barely off her lips when she felt it—a warm hand on the small of her back, sliding into place with the kind of ease that made her shiver. 

 

She turned, heart skipping a beat, just in time to see Cooper stride into the group huddle with the easy, deliberate confidence. His boots hit the floor with a subtle but solid rhythm, and the quiet authority in his presence rippled through the room like a slow shockwave.

 

The ghouls’ chatter faltered, their conversations tapering off mid-sentence as they registered him. Surprise flickered across their faces, and a ripple of unease spread through the group as if they could feel something shift with his arrival.

 

Cooper’s gaze flicked lazily over them before settling on Lucy, the corner of his mouth curling into a playful smirk. “I’m right here, sweetheart,” he said.

 

Rene recoiled slightly, her eyes widening in recognition. “The Ghoul,” she breathed out, the word a whisper laden with a mix of awe and caution. The murmurs around them quieted to a hush, the festive atmosphere momentarily dampened as the crowd’s attention pivoted toward the unexpected figure. Whispers of “The Ghoul” fluttered through the air like uneasy birds, their tones mixed with curiosity and a hint of fear.

 

Cooper's stance was resolute, his eyes sweeping the room with a calm assessment. The quiet recognition of his identity shifted the dynamic, casting a palpable tension that draped over the revelers like a heavy cloak.

 

Rene's posture was tense. She eyed Lucy with a newfound respect, though tinged with intrigue. "You didn't mention your husband was ' The Ghoul ,'" she remarked.

 

Lucy disentangled herself from Cooper's embrace, stepping slightly forward to bridge the gap between them and Rene. She offered a light-hearted shrug. "Well, I don’t really think of him with such formality,” her tone was breezy.

 

A ripple of laughter broke through the crowd, some approaching closer with a mix of awe and curiosity. "Hey," someone called out, a smirk audible in his voice, "I heard from my friend that your real name is Cooper, is that true?" The crowd snickered.

 

His jaw clenched, the muscles rippling beneath his scarred skin. How the hell do they know that? The thought hit hard and fast—then the answer clicked into place. Her.

 

His head snapped to Lucy, his glare sharp and unrelenting.

 

The weight of his gaze pressed into her, making her heart skip. Guilt rose like a tide, but it wasn’t alone— With a quick glance down, she tried to hide it, though it was far too late. Her teeth grazed her bottom lip as she fought a grin.

 

Irritation flickered across his face like a crack of static. His gaze swept over the crowd, catching the amused glances and smirks passing between them. Bastards. “Yeah—It’s Cooper... Cooper The Ghoul,” he stated flatly.

 

Lucy turned back to Cooper, her lips twitching as her eyes softened. 

 

Rene opened her mouth to speak, but a ghoul on the stage raised his gravelly voice, cutting through the low murmur of conversation. “If everyone will take their seats, the swappin' of vows is about to begin!”

 

Cooper clicked his tongue. “Damn it. This is a wedding?” 

 

Lucy shot him a look. Before he could say anything more, she reached over and pinched his side.

 

“Ow!” He flinched, his head jerking down to he glare at her, rubbing the sore spot.

 

Lucy only grinned, sliding her fingers through his and latching on with a determined grip. “Come on,” she whispered, pulling him along.

 

With a quiet huff, Cooper let her lead him toward the back of the room.

 

The crowd shuffled toward their seats, the scrape of chairs on the floor adding to the soft hum of voices. Up on the stage, three ghouls were settling into position.

 

Rene sat stiffly at a table near the front, her posture rigid, her sharp gaze trailing the couple on stage like a hawk.

 

Cooper followed behind Lucy with a weary sigh, his boots dragging slightly as he surveyed the room. When his gaze landed on the table they approached, his brow furrowed. The centerpiece caught his attention—an arrangement of red flowers sitting oddly vibrant atop the battered wood. The petals looked freshly picked. Interesting.

 

Cooper sighed, “Point me to the drink table first.”

 

Lucy shook her head, a mischievous grin on her lips, and playfully shoved him into a seat. She settled in beside him, lifting the tattered tablecloth to reveal a large corked jug nestled beneath.

 

Cooper’s face lit up with a grin. “That’s my girl.” With rough hands, He lifted the jug and yanked out the cork. He tilted the jug back for five quick, deep gulps before swallowing with a gasp, the burn of the potent liquor warming his throat like a slow flame. Wiping the remnants from his mouth with the back of his hand, he passed the jug to Lucy.

 

She struggled a bit with the weight of it, lifting it over her head as Cooper steadied the base. She took one swig, larger than he anticipated, and grimaced as the harsh liquid slid down her throat. With a quick shake of her head, she aired out her tongue.

 

Cooper snorted, a low chuckle escaping him, and he pulled her in close under his arm as the ceremony commenced.

 

---

 

The officiant handed the cleaver to the groom, its blade glinting from trash bin fires lighting the room. Lucy’s big eyes widened as she watched intently from her position at the back table, the jug of Rad Brew beside her now half-empty, a few drops sloshing against the sides. Cooper, leaning back casually, smirked as he rubbed the small of her back, his fingers tracing patterns over the fabric of her jumpsuit. He knew what was coming next; ghoul weddings were never really his thing.

 

The groom steadied his hand on the small table before him, taking a deep, steadying breath as he looked up at his bride. The atmosphere thickened with anticipation. Suddenly, a distinct thwump made Lucy’s heart leap. She strained for a better view, but the crowd shifted slightly, blocking her line of sight. A collective gasp resonated through the gathering, followed by scattered applause. Lucy glanced around, confusion furrowing her brow.

 

Cooper leaned in closer, his voice low “He got it in one chop; some flinch and need to do it in two,” he said.

 

Lucy’s mouth fell open in surprise, then she looked back to the front, her eyes wide. “Ohh,” she breathed softly.

 

Cooper continued, his gaze fixed on her. “They also think it’s a good sign that he didn’t hesitate to cut his finger off for her.”

 

A smile spread across Lucy's face, and she nodded appreciatively, leaning back against Cooper’s chest. The warmth of him enveloped her, grounding her amidst the whirlwind of emotions swirling in the room.

 

As the bride took the cleaver, Cooper watched Lucy with her lazy, haze-drunk eyes, captivated by the soft flutter of her eyelashes as she focused intently on the ceremony. He knew exactly when the bride severed her finger; Lucy’s brow flinched at the sight, a visceral reaction that mirrored the collective “ooo” of the crowd.

 

The groom raised his severed digit,

“With this finger, I pledge my heart to you, a piece of me that will always be yours—”

 

Cooper, feeling a rush of drunk bravado, moved his jacket aside, revealing the dagger he had looted for Lucy. He pulled it from its sheath, the cold steel glinting in the dim light as he brought it to his lap. Lucy’s gaze dropped, curiosity piqued.

 

“Fate has woven our paths together, making us soulmates in this chaotic realm—”

 

Lucy’s eyes flicked back to Cooper, A bright smile spread across her lips as she placed a tipsy hand over her heart, silently questioning, ‘ For me?’

 

“—I promise to always be by your side, to be your strength when you falter and your voice when you hesitate—”

 

Cooper gave a small nod, and Lucy eagerly took the dagger, cradling it delicately between her fingertips. The blade shimmered faintly in the low light as she spun it slowly, testing its weight. The tip grazed her index finger, slicing through the skin with a clean, effortless cut.

A sharp inhale escaped her lips as the crimson bead welled up from the wound. She dropped the dagger into her lap, her focus narrowing on the injury, transfixed by the small bloom of blood at her fingertip.

Before she could react further, Cooper caught her hand in his, bringing her finger to his mouth. The warm press of his lips sent a jolt through her, and when his tongue flicked out, tasting the metallic tang of her blood, her pupils dilated, wide and dark with instinctive fascination. He pulled her hand back, the cut had vanished.

 

“—As we exchange these symbols of our commitment, let our blood intertwine as a reminder that we are partners in this journey,” 

 

Lucy turned her gaze back to the front, the weight of the words settling over her like a heavy but distant echo. For a moment, she let them sink in—She didn’t crave the typical ties or the neat labels. What she wanted—what she needed—was deeper. 

Without a word, she reached for his right hand, pulling it gently to rest in her lap.

Cooper’s gaze drifted back to her just as she took his index finger between her fingers, her grip both steady and intentional. In her right hand, the dagger hovered—sharp, poised, waiting.

 

“—May my love flow through your veins, fueling your courage and binding us together in every challenge you face.”

 

Cooper rolled the thought over in his mind. The meaning behind it settled heavy in his chest. There really wasn’t any going back now— might as well lean in . With a slow exhale, he gave a curt nod.

Lucy’s hand was sure as she pressed the dagger to his finger, the blade biting just enough to break the skin. A bead of blood welled up instantly, dark and slick, glistening like oil under the low light.

Without hesitation, Lucy raised his finger to her mouth, her lips parting as she brought the wound to them. Cooper’s breath hitched, his pulse slowing and thickening as he watched.

Her lips brushed against his skin, soft and deliberate, and the crimson drop smeared across her pout like war paint. She lingered, letting the metallic warmth spread over her tongue. His blood stained her lips, and Cooper couldn't look away

 

At last, the groom finished his vows, his voice echoing through the hall.  

“Together, we are stronger than the world that surrounds us.”

 

---

 

 

Lucy eagerly settled back at their table, a large plate of food spread before them, its rich aroma curling through the air and hitting her senses with unexpected sharpness. Since becoming a ghoul, smells seemed... different—sharper in some ways, muted in others. Some scents hit her harder now. Like Cooper’s –The savory notes of the meat drifted up, mingling with the faint tang of smoke and spices. It made her mouth water.

 

“The food is delicious!” she exclaimed. She took a hearty bite of the meat, the flavors exploding on her tongue— She closed her eyes, savoring the taste.

 

Cooper, leaned back in his chair with an amused smirk. He observed her with lazy eyes. “Want me to tell you what it is?” he asked, mentally noting Rene approaching their table, having just wrapped up her conversation with the officiant. 

 

Lucy’s expression shifted dramatically— It isn't..... ; she quickly spat the food back onto her plate, panic flickering in her eyes. “ No ” she shook her head. She glanced around, as if searching for any witnesses, and with a sudden motion, threw the remnants over her shoulder.

 

“Okie dokie,” Cooper replied as Rene seamlessly joined them, bringing with her the slight tension of leadership. She settled into the seat beside the couple.

 

“So, are you two staying somewhere?” Rene asked casually.

Lucy opened her mouth to respond, her face lighting up with the start of an explanation. “We’re going to—”

 

“Never mind where we’re headed,” Cooper interjected sharply, ignoring the hand that swung back, smacking him in the chest. His steady gaze remained fixed on Rene

 

Rene’s expression remained unchanged, measuring Cooper’s resistance. “Well, we could always use someone of your skill set in our group,” she suggested smoothly.

 

“We’re flattered—” Lucy began. 

 

“But we don’t want to,” Cooper finished. The sharpness of his response prompted another hit from Lucy. 

 

Rene observed the exchange, a subtle nod acknowledging the boundary set. “Understood,” she replied. She then turned her attention more directly towards Lucy. “If you wouldn’t mind, Lucy, I’d love to have a word with Cooper—” she paused, noticing his shouldered tense at the informal title “—I mean, The Ghoul.”

 

“What would you like to talk about?” Cooper interjected “We didn’t bring a wedding gift,” he said sarcastically.

 

The mention of a gift subtly shifted Lucy’s demeanor; “oh no…”   she whispered, a fleeting shadow crossing her features for having no gift.

 

Rene flickers from Lucy back to Cooper, her expression intent. “Like I said, if we could speak in private—” she pressed.

 

“How’s the basement?” Cooper said, his gaze, which had been casually roving the room, sharpened as he turned back to Rene. “You think we could get some privacy there?”

 

Rene frowned, her lips pressing into a thin line as she considered the request. She glanced at Lucy, who met her gaze directly, “That should be fine…”

 

Cooper picked up his cup and tossed back the remainder of his drink. 

 

Rene leaned in, her voice lowering conspiratorially. “Why don’t I have one of my men escort you both—”

 

 He slammed the empty cup on the table. “What men?” Cooper asked, tilting his head.

 

Rene’s eyes flickered. “ My men …the ones you so rudely just turned down joining—”

 

“Where are they?” Lucy asked. Her brows drew together in a delicate furrow. 

 

“What?” Rene blinked.

 

Lucy shrugged, her eyes scanning the room with exaggerated curiosity, a slight giggle escaping her lips. “ Where are your men ?”

 

Cooper turned his head slightly, trying to mask the flicker of amusement that danced across his face.

 

 Rene’s eyes darted around the room, her usual poise wavering under their pointed scrutiny. “Where—” 

 

“Most are dead,” he stated flatly, picking a piece of food from a plate before him and casually popping it into his mouth. Lucy gave Rene a small, apologetic smile.

 

Renes' eyes were frantic behind a stone exterior. “And the others?”

 

Cooper nodded subtly towards the far corner of the room, where two ghouls, conspicuously missing the usual red bandannas, were engaged in a quiet conversation.

 

“Them two figured it out and asked to be left out of it,” Cooper drawled, “They’ve been surprisingly loyal.” He leaned in closer to Rene. “ To me, that is .”

 

Rene exhaled sharply, She shook her head, scoffing. “Fucking bastar—”

 

“ Language ,” Lucy interjected with slowly spacing eyes.

 

Rene rolled her eyes, and began attracting the attention of those nearby. “I looked out for these people, me! I organized all this! My men gathered all the supplies—”

 

Lucy cut her off,  “You stole children from their homes, What do they supply to your little party?” she said with sway.

 

Silence enveloped the room, as all eyes shifted to Rene, who was staring back at Lucy. Rene's chair clattered to the floor as she stood suddenly “What’s a fresh dweller bitch know about—”

 

“I’ve organized countless parties!” Lucy shouted, leaping from her own chair.

 

That’s when Cooper stood, a slow grin spreading across his face as his hand found Lucy's shoulder, “Easy, now,”  His words came out slightly slurred. He raised a placating hand toward Rene, who stood stiff with irritation. “Alright, let’s not get carried away.”

 

“What do you even care about some human kids for?” Rene spat.

 

Cooper’s demeanor shifted. He gently moved Lucy aside, stepping forward with a sly tilt of his head. “ Me? ” he asked, placing a hand over his chest. His scarred brow arched in mock indignation.

“Oh no, I’m just here for the important things,” he continued, With a lazy flick of his wrist, he gestured toward the decor. “I only wanted to know who made the centerpieces.” 

 

Rene’s face furrowed, glancing at the beautiful arrangements that adorned each table. “What?”

 

Cooper exhaled dramatically, rolling his eyes  “Who made them?” he asked again.  “I was just admiring the intricately placed... What are these, Petunias? ” He dragged out the last word.

 

Rene’s patience thinned, her jaw tightening. “I don’t know– What are you even talking about? Why—”

 

Lucy’s brow furrowed, her eyes mirroring Rene’s confusion. What is he talking about? She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Cooper’s tone shifted, his frustration bubbling over.

“I just wanna hire a goddamn decorator —What. The FUCK ... is so hard–”

 

Rene snapped, throwing her arms wide. “FINE! I made the fucking table pieces!” 

 

“Thank you.” With a sudden shift, he drew his weapon, The sharp crack of the gunshot reverberting through the room.

 

Rene’s body crumpled to the floor, her surprise etched across her face as she collapsed–Lifeless, The nearby ghouls recoiled.

 

Lucy, hands clamped over her ears, slowly turned to face the crowd. Her pulse drummed in her skull, but her gaze was steady as she scanned the stunned faces around her.

 

Cooper’s gun lowered. His expression remained cold, unreadable. “Well,” he drawled, “the red bandanna party has officially been disbanded.” His gaze swept across the room, daring anyone to challenge him. “So if you got a problem with that, speak now or... forever hold  your peace. ”

 

Silence stretched, thick and heavy, clinging to the air like the lingering haze of gun smoke. Lucy’s gaze swept the room, noting how no one dared to move. They stood frozen—stiff, uncertain.

 

Lucy’s voice cut through, soft but steady, “If you don’t have a problem with that... you’re free to go.”

 

The room immediately came alive with the sound of closing conversations and rustling bags. Chairs scraped, and the quiet shuffle of footsteps filled the space as ghouls began filing out. Some moved quickly, heads down, eager to vanish into the night without a second glance. Others lingered for just a moment. They avoided Cooper’s gaze with practiced care, skirting around him to speak to Lucy.

 

“Thank you, we had a great time,” one ghoul said, offering a warm smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

 

“Thanks, nice ta meet ya,” another added, tipping an imaginary hat.

 

One of the women, who had shared stories earlier, approached next. “Darling, come to my salon in Jacobstown… You're gonna need me when your scalp starts peeling, just you wait,” She leaned in closer, playfully elbowing Cooper while giving Lucy a knowing look. “Be careful with the bad boys, they’re all h art breakers.” Lucy chuckled appreciatively, nodding her thanks before the woman winked and moved on.

 

“Good to meet you,” another ghoul said earnestly, extending a rough, friendly hand towards Lucy.

 

The last ghoul to approach was markedly sheepish, hesitating at the edge of their interaction. During Lucy's parade of handshakes and goodbyes, Cooper had returned to his seat, pouring himself another drink, seemingly uninterested as he picked at the scraps left on nearby plates. 

 

Noticing the last man’s reluctance, Lucy gave Cooper a gentle swat on the shoulder to catch his attention. As Cooper turned his head, the sheepish ghoul took a tentative step forward. “Sir, I-I’m sure you don’t remember me,” he stammered, his voice cracking slightly. “C-Carlos,” the ghoul grunted, the name slipping from his cracked lips. An involuntary reflex.

 

Cooper’s sharp gaze lingered on the man, taking in the subtle tremors running through his body—

 

Carlos collected himself with an erratic breath and continued. “About 50 years ago, you hunted down my father and killed him…” Lucy tensed, worried about where this was headed. Carlos glanced at her briefly, before turning back to Cooper. “You did it for my mom, free of charge. After that, she could finally breathe, and start her own business in Shady Sands. No more beatings.”

 

Cooper’s facade faltered slightly. Lucy’s expression fell, her brows knitting together in empathy.

 

“I just wanted to say thank you,” Carlos added.

 

Cooper opened his mouth to respond, but for once, his usual quick retorts didn’t come.

 

Carlos didn’t press for more, instead turning to Lucy with a resigned smile. “It was nice to meet you,” he said politely before quietly making his way out of the room.

 

In the quiet aftermath of the party, the room felt larger. 

 

She approached Cooper, who remained seated, lost in thought. She draped herself over his back in a comforting embrace, resting her head on his left shoulder. "Ready to free some children?"

 

"No,” Cooper grumbled “I want to find my fucking hat.” 

 

Lucy tightened her embrace, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "Priorities," she murmured against his skin.

 

---

 

The evening air hung thick with the weight of impending rain as Cooper and Lucy guided the children toward the front door. The faint jangle of Rene’s keys, now safely tucked in Cooper's pocket, cut through the quiet tension. Just as they reached the threshold, Cooper’s boot caught on a loose floorboard, causing him to stumble. 

 

Lucy blurted out, her hand shooting out–from too far, “Careful!”

 

Catching himself just in time, he wobbled on one foot before regaining his balance, Shooting her a dry look. “Thanks, that’s really helpful after the fact," he said.

 

Lucy made a face at him, her lips pursing, just as the doors suddenly flew open, slamming against the walls with a force that made everyone jump. 

 

Max stormed in, his gun raised and ready, while Hank swaggered behind, Cooper's hat perched crookedly on his head, wielding a long pole with his good arm.

 

The room froze. The children instinctively huddled closer to Cooper and Lucy.

 

Hank took in the sight and sighed, letting his shoulders sag as he lowered the pole. "Figures," he muttered with a roll of his eyes.

 

Max, still on edge, frowned as his gun wavered. "How’d you find Lucy?" he asked.

 

Cooper gave Lucy a sideways glance, noting how tired she looked. “I didn’t,” he said dryly. “She just... pops up places.”

 

Lucy snorted and swayed. She stepped forward speaking to the children. "These men...will– they'll take you back to town," The kids hesitated, then slowly inched forward, glancing between Lucy and Max.

 

“You’re not coming?” Max’s voice held a faint edge of hurt.

 

Lucy shook her head hard, a bit too fast. “No... no,” she mumbled.

 

Hank raised a brow, eyeing her swaying form. “Are you drunk?”

 

“Yes,” three of the kids answered for her, nodding toward the obviously tipsy pair who had been trying to rescue them.

 

Max let out a surprised snort, crossing his arms as his gaze flicked between Lucy, swaying in place, and Cooper, who was leaning slightly to one side.

 

Lucy flushed, exaggerating a breath through her nose, standing a little straighter in an attempt to look composed—an attempt that quickly faltered. “Cooper and I are staying here tonight,” she declared. 

 

Cooper's gaze shifted, locking onto Hank. His eyes narrowed, the irritation unmistakable. There it was — “Give me my hat.”

 

Hank smirked, shaking his head. “Finders keepe—”

 

But before he could finish, Cooper made a swift move, yanking the hat off Hank’s head. Hank straightened, his ruffled hair sticking up. “ Careful , some of us still have hair.”

 

Cooper lunged at Hank, sending them both into a wild, clumsy scuffle. The group of children quickly shuffled aside, giving the men plenty of space. Arms flailed, fists grazed, and the sound of grunting filled the air as they awkwardly grappled.

 

Max rushed forward, followed closely by Lucy, both of them scrambling to intervene. 

 

"Hey! Guys—" Max’s voice boomed, but neither man seemed to hear.

 

"Seriously—stop it! You gu—" Lucy’s plea was cut off by the chaos as the 400-year-old combined force of two grumpy men were pried apart.

 

---

 

Lucy and Cooper slipped into the room meant for the newlyweds, the door creaking softly as it closed behind them. It was clear the couple had decided against spending their first night anywhere near Cooper—no surprise there. The space was small and unassuming, illuminated only by the dim, flickering glow of a lantern in the corner. Shadows stretched across the walls, giving the room a quiet, intimate stillness.

 

At the center sat a simple bed, little more than a worn mattress stacked atop crates and draped with mismatched blankets. The makeshift pile, haphazard but cozy, looked just big enough for two—whether by design or necessity. A pair of half-burned candles sat on a crate-turned-nightstand, their wax pooled and hardened from earlier use. In one corner, a cracked pitcher of water rested beside a chipped basin.

 

All of it—faded into nothing as their mouths met, hot and eager, breathless with the kind of desperation that bordered on reckless. Their kisses were messy and unrelenting, each one igniting a spark that made it harder to stop.

 

Cooper’s hand was firm beneath Lucy’s jaw, his fingers pressing just enough to keep her close, as they stumbled further into the room. The taste of him lingered on her lips—Rad brew and salt.

 

Lucy broke away for a breath, her chest rising and falling in quick bursts, her lips red and swollen from the kiss. She cast a glance over her shoulder.

 

Spotting the lone bed, Lucy’s eyes gleamed. She pulled away and walked toward it with a slow saunter, exaggerating her movements as she inspected the pile of blankets. She threw the back of her hand to her forehead, letting out a mock gasp. “Oh no! There’s only one bed. Whatever are we going to do?”

 

She turned just as she finished her teasing question, only to find Cooper much closer than expected, his imposing figure looming over her. Before she could react, he gave her a firm push, sending her falling onto the bed with a soft bounce.

 

Her big eyes widened as she looked up at him, the playful spark shifting into something deeper, more electric. Cooper held her gaze, unflinching, his expression dark and intent. His hands moved to his belt, slowly undoing the buckle with a calm, deliberate pace. "We're gonna use it" 

 

---

 

The room was cloaked in darkness, the only light filtering in from the moon, casting long shadows across their tangled forms. Cooper rode the edge of his buzz as he let Lucy tug at the fabric of his shirt. His breath hitched when her fingers made contact with his bare skin. He kept his mouth pressed against hers, controlling the moment. If her eyes stayed closed, she wouldn’t be able to sneak a look at his torso—not that she needed to. He knew she could feel the rough, uneven scars under her touch, He could feel her feel it.

 

But she didn’t say anything. Her fingers moved with careful grace, tracing down his chest as if she were mapping him. Cooper leaned over her, her hand slipping lower, just beneath the hem of his pants, 

 

Suddenly It wasn’t Lucy. It wasn’t her touch. It was the past creeping in, like a wave of memories washing over his skin—flashes of fire, pain, humiliation . 

 

“Stop.” He pulled back, his voice sharper than intended.

 

Her hands were up instantly. “Okay—I’m sorry—” The guilt in her voice hit him like a blow, and not the kind he wanted. 

 

Cooper let out a frustrated groan, sitting up on his knees as he ran his hands over his face like he was trying to wake himself from a bad dream. “Don’t... don’t apologize,” he muttered, his jaw clenched. His own mind was a battlefield, the scars on his skin nothing compared to the damage beneath. She couldn’t see that. She couldn’t feel that. And he wasn’t sure if he ever wanted her to.

 

Cooper opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The warmth in his gut churned and he gagged. – Fuck — He lurched over the side of the bed, vomiting hard. His eyes watered as his body heaved. No—fuck—this isn’t—

 

A small, warm hand found his back, rubbing slow, soothing circles. Her soft hush reached his ear, calming the frantic mess in his head. The last of his stomach emptied with a retch, and he collapsed back onto the bed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

 

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “I’ve ruined this.”

 

Lucy chuckled beside him, the sound light and unbothered. “Ruined what? Drunk sex?” She nudged him playfully, a half-punch to his shoulder. “Note for next time: one of us definitely can’t handle their liquor…”

 

Cooper groaned, rolling his eyes, and in one swift move, he tackled her onto the bed. Lucy squealed as he dragged her down, both of them landing in a tangled mess of limbs. With a playful huff, he reached out, grabbing the edge of a semi-dusty blanket and tugging it over them. The fabric settled over their bodies as Cooper spooned her, pulling her in close beneath its light weight. He rested his forehead against the back of her head, the tension draining from his body as the warmth of the blanket and her presence settled around them. 

 

Lucy whispered,“So... are we just going to leave the vomit there?”

 

“Shhh,” Cooper muttered, pulling her closer and burying his face into the back of her neck.

 

They sat in silence for a long while. Lucy laying beside him, her thoughts swimming just beneath the surface, unsure of what she could say. If I can help . Finally, she decided to speak from her experience.

 

“I have a new scar,” she said softly, breaking the silence. The haze from the alcohol had faded more, leaving her grounded but tired. The room no longer spun, and she was grateful for the break she'd taken between drinks.

 

Cooper knew exactly what she was talking about. He’d seen it —when she wore only a tank top, the pale line beneath her belly button, faint against her olive-toned skin, a scar that didn’t belong there.

 

“The one below your belly button?” he asked anyway.

 

Lucy nodded against his arm. “Mmhmm.” Her voice trailed off, her gaze shifting to the shattered window across the room. The cool breeze of night drifted in. She studied the jagged edges of the glass, her eyes flicking in the dark.

 

“Did the doctor ever mention anything about it to you?” she asked after a long pause. She suspected the answer, – He didn’t –and it made her stomach churn. Cooper had been honest about what he knew,  so she figured he would’ve told her by now. Still, she needed to ask.

 

“No,” Cooper replied quietly. But he had his suspicions. Given the obsession Vault-Tec had with Lucy’s body—especially her reproductive organs—it wasn’t hard to guess that those parts didn’t belong to her anymore. He felt a surge of anger at the thought.

 

Lucy remained quiet for a moment longer, the words teetering on the edge of her thoughts. She weighed them carefully, as if saying them aloud would end the world.

“I never really thought about having kids,” she confessed, “Not outside of... my duty to have them.”

 

Cooper shifted beside her, his arm gently tightening around her. He didn’t speak, but the weight of his presence was enough. He’d admit, back when he and Barb had Janey, he hadn’t fully grasped the difference between wanting a baby and wanting to be a father. He’d been swept up in the idea of it, thinking a kid was just another milestone, something to check off because that’s what people did. But fathers weren’t made the day their child was born; they were shaped in every moment that followed. He hadn’t understood that weight back then, but he sure as hell knew it now.

 

“And now? ” he finally asked.

 

Lucy thought for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly in the dark. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly, “I just…wonder; What…I would’ve chosen... if it had ever been mine to choose.

 

Another silence fell between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. 

 

Cooper spoke again. “Janey was a surprise.” his heart hurt at the mention. A happy surprise no doubt about it. 

 

Lucy shifted out of Cooper’s hold, turning to face him in the dark. His gaze followed her, shadowing the lines of her face as he spoke softly, as if the memories were too fragile to be handled carelessly.

 

"Barb didn’t want kids," he began, his voice rough with the weight of hindsight. "She was focused on her career, moving up the ranks. She had her life planned, and I..." He trailed off, letting the silence fill the gaps of what he couldn’t quite say.

 

"I didn’t push her on purpose," he continued after a pause, his brow furrowed, "But when she got pregnant, I begged her to keep Janey.”

 

He sighed, his fingers tracing the rough edge of the blanket. "After Janey was born... everything changed. Barb said that when she held her, the world clicked into place. And that place was her arms." 

 

His voice softened, barely more than a whisper. "Years down the line, she was starting to get traction at work again." He let the words hang in the air, the weight of his realization settling between them. “So when she asked me to film for Vault-Tec, playing catch-up and making her look good in front of the bigwigs, I—” What's my point here?

 

Everything else came forward. Cooper rolled on to his back. “I never should have done those commercials.” his hand pinched his bridge. 

 

Lucy snuggled closer into his side, her fingers lightly tracing circles on his chest as she listened to the familiar weight in his voice.   “When you did those Vault-Tec ads, did they ever mention anything about… their repopulation plans?” she asked.

 

Cooper removed his hand from his face, thinking for a moment. “No... not that I remember,” he muttered, frowning slightly as he tried to recall.

 

Lucy sniffed, a small, wry smile pulling at her lips.  “Probably one of those 'Welcome to the Vault' things they covered right after the door shut.”

 

Cooper snorted. He smiled in the darkness, he stared at the cracked ceiling with Lucy's head resting on his chest. 

 

He felt surprisingly comfortable despite the earlier vomiting, though his buzz was wearing off and the tightness of his jeans under the blanket was starting to bother him. Lucy, already stripped down to her underwear and tank top, pressed against him, her soft skin a contrast to the rough denim. He swallowed, realizing he needed to get out of the jeans.

 

His hand found Lucy’s resting on his chest, and he gently lifted it. She tilted her head slightly, curious, but didn’t say a word. The movement freed his other arm, and without meeting her eyes, he quietly shimmied his jeans down to his thighs. Lucy caught on and shifted back, giving him space to sit up. He scrunched his legs beneath the blanket, peeling the sandy pants off and tossing them to the side.

 

Now he lay beside her in just his new vault-issued shirt and boxers, courtesy of Jerry. The relief was instant, and he settled back bringing her with him. 

 

Lucy smiled softly in the darkness and lowered her head back onto his chest, his warmth soothing as his left hand instinctively gripped her right. Her leg slid up his, seeking closeness, but a sudden sting of surprise shot through her as she felt the unmistakable ridge along his thigh. The sensation made her heart skip.Trying to bury the flicker of surprise she'd felt, She willed herself to settle back into the quiet moment. But Cooper’s voice, low and flat, sliced through the stillness of the room.

 

“Don Pedro…”

 

Her body stiffened instinctively, bracing. She knew some of what Don Pedro had done to Cooper, but the thought of hearing more—

 

“I'm healed, you know. It works. But he had sliced–” His stomach churned, a sharp burn rising in his throat like acid “Anyway…” He continued. She probably didn't want to hear the nitty gritty and He supposes He didn't really want to share that depth of detail. 

He sighed. “The scars wrap around and—are thick. I just– getting it was painful and so, looking at it–” he cut off and thought differently. Specifically ‘people’ looking at it.  

 

That Had been the worst part, All the people who stared. 

 

Lucy shifted then, turning awkwardly in his arms to look up at him. “You don’t have to bring it all up,” she said gently, her voice soft, offering him a way out. She understood now—she didn’t need to hear it all now. He’d done great.

 

“Eh well Thank you, but if I ever wanna take you to bed, I think I might–”

 

Lucy chuckled, cutting him off. “I think we’ve got plenty of time to map each other’s bodies,” she teased 

 

Cooper rolled his eyes and mumbled. “ I feel like I've been waiting a really long time …”

 

Lucy rolled her eyes right back at him, a blush creeping up her cheeks. “We had plenty of... encounters in the beginning of the simulation, if I remember correctly.”

 

Cooper's face fell slightly. “That's. Part of the problem.” He shook his head. He's been trying not to think about his old face. He's avoided puddles and reflective surfaces since coming back out.  “ I don't look like I did there. Below the belt–above the neck line.” his free hand gesture towards his face. His noseless, hairless, uneven crater face–

 

Lucy leaned in and kissed him softly, the gesture warm and reassuring.Turning off the slew of insults running through his head. He leaned into it, letting the familiar comfort wash over him, but then she suddenly pulled back with a scrunched-up face.

 

“Oh yeah, you just puked,” she groaned, wiping her mouth dramatically.

 

Cooper chuckled, his hand finding the back of her head, pulling her close again. “Ain’t much stays clean out here, Vaultie,” he teased, his voice low and playful as he tugged her back for another kiss, this time prying her mouth open with his tongue. Lucy’s eyes widened in surprise, and she squirmed, huffing against his mouth in protest.

 

He hummed in amusement before pulling back, laughter bubbling from him as Lucy wiped her mouth again with the back of her hand.

 

“Disgusting,” she muttered. 

 

Cooper laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest as he pulled her close. 

Chapter 19: Today- October 23rd, 2077

Notes:

I post this- Today, October 23rd, 2024. Please Enjoy!

“Good morning, listeners! It's another fine Saturday—perfect weather to check in on your Vault-Tec stocks. Experts say the Class-A vault investments are steady, but if you're looking for something easier on the budget, private partnerships with RobCo or Poseidon Energy might be your best bet. And hey, don't sleep on Nuka-Cola’s subsidiary ventures—they’re bubbling up, folks! Next on news, the Presiden–”

(Click.)

The station switches, filling the car with the upbeat rhythm of a cheerful song:

"You run through my mind, can't shake the feeling,
Like a tingle in my toes, got me kneeling.
When you’re near, the whole world slows—
It’s love, from my head to my heels, it shows!"

 

Bud’s foot taps lightly against the gas pedal as he hums along, the rhythm sneaking into his movements. With a lazy grin, he drums his fingers against the steering wheel, his knee bouncing in time with the melody as the morning sun filters through the windshield.

When the Vault-Tec lot comes into view, he presses his heel into the brake, smoothly pulling his tiny, boxy car into its usual spot.

With a satisfied hum, he steps out and smooths the front of his sleek, navy-blue suit—tailored to perfection, hugging his tall, lean frame. His hair gleams under the morning sun, neatly slicked back with a subtle wave, still holding its place from the gel he'd used earlier. The shoes—along with his matching leather briefcase—were a thoughtful gift from his love, who insisted they’d make him look like "a man who knows where he’s going."

He whistles softly, the tune still stuck in his head, as he pulls the front door open with a casual flick of his wrist and steps inside.

The tap of his polished shoes echoes softly against the tile floor as he makes his way through the lobby. Bud offers warm smiles and polite greetings to the handful of people milling about. "Good morning, Mrs. O’Connor!" he calls with a cheerful nod toward the receptionist. She glances at him, expression tight, and quickly looks away. Another worker walking past gives him a brief glance before turning his head, avoiding eye contact.

Bud’s smile wavers for just a moment, But he shrugs it off, forcing the cheer back into his expression as he reaches the elevator. With a familiar, smooth motion, he presses the button. The doors part with a faint ding, and he steps inside, feeling the plastic under his fingers as he taps the button for his floor.

The elevator doors slide open and Bud steps out, toward his office—one of the good ones, tucked away with a corner view.

He grips the handle and pushes the office door open, his smile still in place. But it falters entirely when he steps inside and sees Hank Maclean, Barb’s young assistant, sitting on the edge of his desk, arms folded across his chest.

Bud’s steps slow as he takes in the unexpected sight, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

He stands in the doorway for a beat longer than necessary, then clears his throat.

"Mr. MacLean," Bud says, carefully neutral. His gaze flickers toward the open hallway beyond, and after a brief hesitation, he closes the door behind him.

Turning back to Hank, Bud lowers his arms and tilts his head, "What are you doing here this early... and in my office?"

 

Hank held Bud’s gaze, a flicker of something dangerous dancing in his eyes. Then, his mouth twisted into a familiar, teasing smirk, and he launched off the desk, striding toward Bud with purpose.

 

Bud’s grin split wide, almost boyish, as he let the briefcase slip from his hand, the leather hitting the floor with a soft thud. He opened his arms just in time, catching Hank as the slightly smaller man closed the space between them.

 

Hank crashed into him, their lips meeting in a heated, eager kiss. Bud’s arms looped effortlessly around his waist, pulling him close. Hank hummed into the kiss, savoring the feel of Bud’s hands pressing against the small of his back.

 

Bud threw his head back. Breathless but not willing to let go entirely; The taste of morning coffee and the faint scent of aftershave lingered between them, familiar and intoxicating. 

 

With a soft chuckle, His hand slid up Hank’s back, resting at the nape of his neck, his thumb tracing light circles. Hank sighed. 

 

“What are you doing here?” Bud asked.

 

Hank looked up wide eyed. “I took advantage of a shift in my schedule to see you before HR is in the building.”

 

Bud smiled, slow and easy. “My god, you really are more than just a pretty face,” he teased, leaning in again.

 

Hank laughed under his breath, just as the door swung open with a quiet whoosh.

 

“Bud, I’ve got—”

 

Barb entered the room, her steps faltering, as she stopped in her heels. Her rouge dress clung perfectly to her frame, a striking contrast against the dark wood paneling. She was polished, powerful.

 

For a moment, she didn’t say anything, merely watching Bud and Hank untangle themselves, 

 

“Henry,” she said finally, Her manicured fingers curling loosely at her side.
“What are you doing here? Where’s Janey?”

 

Hank’s shoulders dipped slightly, a flicker of guilt crossing his expression. Bud’s smile faltered as he glanced between the two of them, the easy confidence slipping from his posture.

 

Hank took a breath and squared his shoulders. “Ms. Howard—Janey’s pickup was moved an hour later, so I haven’t left yet—”

 

Barb tilted her head slightly, “Moved by who?”

 

The door clicked softly shut behind her as she slowly stepped further into the room, She crossed her arms lightly, not in anger, but with the certainty of someone accustomed to having the last word. Her sharp gaze flicked to Bud.

 

“I told you I didn’t want your relationship getting in the way of my assistant’s responsibilities.”

 

Bud pressed his lips together, rubbing the back of his neck, but his grin returned, “Barb, come on. We get so little time together with HR crawling all over the place.”

 

Her smile appeared like a shadow of a laugh, She adjusted her posture ever so slightly. “Maybe if the VIPs around here didn’t fraternize with the assistants,” she said, her voice soft but firm, “HR wouldn’t have anything to crawl over.”

 

She didn’t linger on Bud’s reaction. Her focus shifted back to Hank.

 

“Who moved her pickup time, Henry?”

 

Hank straightened his posture, “Your ex-husband, ma’am. He said they had about an hour left on a movie, and since you were in your meeting, I thought—”

 

Barb’s expression didn’t harden—if anything, it softened, but in a way that felt heavier.

“That wasn’t your call to make.”

 

Bud gave a low, tired sigh, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Come on, Barb...”

 

"Of course it wasn’t, ma’am—I’ll get her right away." Hank stepped forward, only to hesitate mid-motion, catching himself with a sharp pivot.

 

Bud’s brown eyes trailed after him, as Hank strode back to the desk. He grabbed his satchel, slinging it over his shoulder before turning toward the door once more, ready to leave.

 

Barb exhaled slowly, her gaze drifting to the Pip-Boy secured snugly on her wrist. The soft glow of the screen cast a faint greenish light across her face. Her brows furrowed as she blinked, adjusting her focus, her lips pressing into a thin line as the time came into view.

 

She dropped her hand, smoothing her expression back into something unreadable. “Nevermind don’t bother–I’ll just go get her.” 

 

“My apologies Ms. Howard–”

 

Barb waved her hand and gave a harsh sigh. "Don’t worry about it," she said, "Next time—just keep the decisions to me."

 

She pivoted toward the door with fluid precision, her tone clear "Seems I need to remind my ex-husband of the schedule."

 

Not sparing a second glance, she strode out of the room, her heels tapping sharply against the floor. The faintest trace of lavender trailed behind her.

 

Hank exhaled a long, relieved breath the moment Barb left, followed by a deep groan, tossing his head back. "Dammit. I really wanted to see his new bachelor pad," he griped, stomping his polished shoe into the floor.

 

Bud turned to Hank “Wanted to see if the carpet matches the drapes?”

 

Hank barked a laugh. "Do you even know what that means?"

 

Before Bud could answer, Hank reached for his tie with two fingers, giving it a sharp pull, yanking him closer. 

 

Bud’s brow furrowed, "It’s… a decorating thing…" 

 

Hank's laughter was warm, "No, buddy," Then, with a smoothness, Hank leaned up and kissed the senior junior vice president.

 

Bud jerked back, blinking rapidly. "So… what does it mean?" 

---

 

Barb approached Apartment C4 with purposeful strides, her expression hidden behind oversized, white-framed glasses. As she reached the door, she raised her gloved hands—sleek and pristine—and slipped the glasses off. A faint pause followed as she cleared her throat, then knocked firmly on the door.

 

She slipped off her gloves, tucking them into her purse just as shuffling noises came from inside.

 

The door swung open to reveal Cooper, his hair a messy tangle, still wearing a dark gray shirt, red plaid pajama pants, and mismatched white socks. He gripped the top of the door, with one hand, his face falling the moment he saw her.

 

"Barb," he muttered, "I thought Henry was picking Janey up at 7."

 

Barb stepped forward, sliding into the apartment without waiting for an invitation. "Henry was supposed to pick her up 40 minutes ago." 

 

He shifted his body just enough to let her pass. "Janey, Mommy’s here!" Barb called, her voice cutting through the small apartment.

 

Cooper sighed, pursing his lips. "Please, come right in," he muttered, closing the door behind her.

 

"Hi, Mommy!" came a cheerful voice from the back of the apartment.

 

Barb’s gaze swept the room, taking in every detail. The space was cramped—a small two-bedroom where the kitchen, living room, and dining area all merged into one. Unpacked boxes lined one corner, and Roosevelt, Cooper’s old mutt, lay sprawled on the couch, his head resting lazily on a pillow.

 

Barb's eyes lingered on the bare walls. "What is she doing?" she asked, without looking at Cooper.

 

Cooper rubbed a hand over his tired eyes, avoiding her gaze. "She’s brushing her teeth," he mumbled, lips tugging downward in a pout.

 

"Mommy!" Janey’s excited voice cut between them as she bounded out of the bathroom, flicking off the light with a quick slap. She ran straight to her mother, arms wrapping tightly around Barb’s dress, the fabric rustling softly beneath her small hands.

 

Barb’s expression softened as she looked down at her daughter, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Did you have a good time with your father?" she asked, her hand gently tucking a stray curl behind Janey’s ear.

 

Janey beamed, her gapped-tooth grin wide and bright. "We went to the park, and we had pizza! And popcorn for movie night! And—and we went to the library for all the movies!" She bounced on her toes. Barb's eyes lingered on Janey as she recounted her day with Cooper, each activity painted with carefree excitement. Her smile tightened, though she made no comment.  All free things— 

 

She chuckled,  "That sounds wonderful, sweetie! You can tell me all about it in the car, okay?" She gave Janey’s cheek a gentle pat.

 

"Okay!" Janey chirped. 

 

Cooper rested a hand on her shoulder, his voice soft " Grab your things, baby. It’s time to get packed up."

 

Janey nodded, her curls bouncing with the movement, then dashed off toward her room, her little feet thumping lightly against the floor.

 

Once Janey disappeared into her room, Barb’s warm demeanor evaporated. "I need you to respect the schedule." She already had enough to manage. The last thing she needed was the nagging uncertainty of Janey being out of reach when it mattered most.

 

Cooper exhaled sharply through his nose, his shoulders rising in a quick, frustrated shrug. "It was ‘ one hour ’ –Henry said you were in a meeting anyway—"

 

Her voice dropped to a harsh whisper, enough to stay beneath Janey’s radar. "This is about knowing where my daughter is." 

 

Cooper leaned in closer, his voice low to match Barb’s. "She’s with me, Barb. Her father . I don’t see why—"

 

"Exactly, Cooper!" Barb hissed, "You don’t understand. You have no idea the pressure I’m under—"

 

"Oh, I know ," his tone was biting. "You’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders."

 

Barb’s lips pressed into a tight, thin line. The silence between them felt like a standoff, with unspoken truths and accusations neither dared to voice. Before the tension could snap, Janey burst out of her bedroom, her small feet thumping across the floor as she launched herself at Cooper’s waist. "Bye, Dad!" she squealed.

 

Cooper’s irritation melted instantly. He scooped her up with an easy grin, settling her on his hip. "Bye?" he raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'bye'? A gentleman walks his lady to the car!"

 

He turned, catching Barb’s simmering expression—now being carefully tucked beneath a mask of restraint. "I’ll walk you both out," he added.

 

Janey giggled as Cooper shifted her weight on his hip, her arms clinging to his neck. Barb gave a subtle nod and pulled the door open.

 

Balancing Janey on one arm, Cooper bent to grab her small suitcase with the other. He carried on out the door, slipping past Barb. 

 

Once outside, the three of them made their way to the car, their steps thudding softly to the parking lot.

 

Cooper set the suitcase down and popped open the car door, gently easing Janey into her booster seat. He buckled her in, then leaned in to kiss her cheek. "I’ll see you soon, okay?" he murmured.

 

Janey grinned, "Okay."

 

Cooper gave her seatbelt one last tug to ensure it was secure. "I love you," he said quietly.

 

"I love you too," she replied with a sweet, certain smile.

 

Satisfied, Cooper closed the door with a soft click . When he turned, he found Barb standing by the open trunk, silently waiting. He grabbed the suitcase and slid it in.

 

He looked at Barb, his voice low but earnest. "I wish you wouldn’t treat me like the enemy."

 

Barb laughed. Lately, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d been cast as the villain in the latest Cooper Howard epic. Her expression hardened as she took him in. In Cooper’s world, if he wasn’t the hero, he was the victim —but Barb couldn’t afford to see things that way. Not when it comes to Janey . She shook her head, pushing away the dark thought. “Same, Coop,” she murmured, her voice quiet but firm. With a sense of finality, she closed the trunk, the heavy thud echoing between them.

 

Without lingering, Barb moved away. She opened the driver’s door and slid into the seat, The door shut with a muted thud.

 

Cooper stepped back onto the curb, feeling the cool sting of wet socks against his skin—the sprinkler having soaked the edges of the sidewalk. 

 

With a soft hiss of the tires on damp pavement, Barb drove away, her tail lights disappearing down the street, leaving Cooper standing alone in the breeze, a flicker of regret curling in his chest.

 

---

 

Bud burst into Barb’s office, his expression sharp with concern. "Why didn’t you tell me China was threatening to—" He stopped short when he noticed Janey. "Oh, hey kid." She was seated at a small table, brushing her doll’s hair.  

 

 He continued,  "Uh, why didn’t you tell me China wanted to... deliver the package early?" 

 

Barb stood at her desk, flipping through a file "I tried telling you this morning, but I got distracted." She lifted her gaze to Bud, and smirked "Wouldn’t you agree you were a bit distracted yourself?"

 

Bud blinked and exhaled.  "Okay, sure. But I just got off the phone with Mrs. Dawson, and she seems pretty sure —"

 

Hank appeared abruptly in the doorway, his hand gripping the frame for balance, breath slightly uneven. "Ms. Howard, I’m sorry. I was in the copier room." He shot Bud a hard look, "If I’d known Mr. Askins was headed in, I would’ve stopped him."

 

Barb gave Hank a brief glance, all business. "It’s alright. I need Bud anyway. We’re going to Jefferson’s office."

 

Bud frowned, "We are?"

 

"Yes," Barb replied, already moving toward Janey. She knelt by her daughter, her voice soft but direct. "Sweetie, Henry is going to watch you while I’m in a meeting."

 

Janey’s hand stilled on the doll’s hair. "But—"

 

Barb placed a steady hand on her back. "I know, sweetie, but it won’t be long. I promise."

 

She stood smoothly and turned back to Hank. "Henry, I need a reason to leave Jefferson’s office in 30 minutes. After that, we have a meeting with communications." Hank gave a firm nod.

 

Bud moved, still baffled, "We do?"

 

Barb smirked, "You should look into getting an assistant." she walked toward the exit. 

 

Bud followed quickly behind, "But it’d be really awkward when you start to date him," he said.

 

Hank stepped aside to let Barb pass, his posture stiff. As Bud followed, he threw Hank a quick smile and kissed the air in his direction—Hank scowled in return. Bud continued down the hall, entirely unfazed.

 

Hank turned back to Janey, adjusting his tie. "You started tea time without me?"

 

Janey beamed. "No!"

 

"Oh, good," Hank sighed, settling into the small chair with mock seriousness. "Because I definitely would’ve caused a scene in this restaurant."

 

Janey giggled, delighted, as she poured invisible tea into his cup.

 

---

 

Barb and Bud sat in identical chairs, leaning forward with tense shoulders, their postures mirroring the weight of the moment. Jefferson sat across the desk, arms folded tightly.  His face was drawn with a grim expression.  At the center of them, the phone speaker crackled, filling the room with an accented voice.

 

“Mr. Shen insists the plan has changed. Based on information from a trusted internal source, China believes Vault-Tec is accelerating its operations to November .”

 

Bud dropped his hand from his mouth, the color draining slightly from his face. “Well, that’s... news to me,” he muttered, glancing at Barb. “We’ve been told this whole disaster plan goes live on December 17th.”

 

Barb nodded curtly, swallowing to steady herself. “Our timeline hasn’t changed. Vault-Tec is following the schedule outlined by our agreement—November isn’t on the table.”

 

The translator relayed Barb’s words, followed by Mr. Shen’s sharp reply.

“Mr. Shen disagrees. His sources say Vault-Tec intends to catch China off-guard by launching first .”

 

Bud dragged his hands down his face, releasing a muffled groan. “ Oh god ...” 

 

Barb snapped her gaze to him, her eyes hard as steel. She turned her attention back to the phone, her words clear and unyielding. “This misinformation is dangerous, Mr. Shen. We cannot afford assumptions or hasty conclusions—”

“Mr. Shen says the timeline has already shifted, and the window for diplomacy is closing fast. You have two options: China assumes oversight of the Vault overseers, or prepare to be surprised.”

 

Before anyone could respond, the phone line went dead with a sharp click.

 

The silence that followed was thick and oppressive.

 

Bud slowly exhaled, dropping his hands to the sides of his chair. After a beat, he let out an exaggerated laugh, "Well, this sucks."

 

Barb didn’t move, her gaze lingering on the dead phone, as if willing it to ring again. “We can’t give them control of the overseers. We promised our shareholders—”

 

Jefferson leaned forward, interrupting with a quiet but sharp tone. "Shareholders won't have anything if the bombs drop while our pants are down."

 

Barb gave a curt nod, her expression unreadable. “We stick to the story. Drag out the renegotiations. Find the mole.”

 

She stood from her chair and walked to the window, her arms crossed, the reflective glass casting her shadow back into the room.

 

Bud, comfortably slouched, waved a dismissive hand. "Well, shouldn’t be too hard. It has to be someone from this floor."

 

Jefferson's chair tilted with a groan as he leaned back, narrowly catching himself. “Don’t you two share a confidant?”

 

Bud shot Jefferson a sharp glare, "Mr. MacLean is as loyal to this company as I—"

 

Barb turned from the window, cutting him off. “I agree with Bud. Henry wouldn’t repeat anything.” Her tone carried finality, “We need to start with military provisions. Carlton’s clearance always felt too loose. I never fully trusted his vetting.”

 

Bud perked up, a grin spreading across his face. “Ooh yeah, I’ve always hated Carlton.” 

 

A knock at the door broke the moment. All three turned their attention toward the door.

 

Hank popped his head in, offering a polite nod. “Ms. Howard, Mr. Askins—five minutes until the meeting with communications.”

 

Bud gave a lopsided smile. Barb responded with a smooth nod, “Thank you, Henry.”

 

Hank disappeared, gently clicking the door shut behind him.

 

Out in the hallway, Hank turned back to Janey, who clutched her doll tightly against her side, the plastic arm bent awkwardly from her grip. He crouched slightly to meet her gaze. “Your mom will be out soon,” he said softly.

 

Janey’s brown eyes darted curiously around the sprawling office floor. She watched workers shuffling between cubicles, the soft hum of typing and murmured conversations drifting around them. She hugged her doll closer, rocking slightly on her heels. 

 

The sudden sound of the door clacking open made her perk up. Her gaze snapped back to the door just as Hank straightened and stepped to the side.

 

Barb and Bud strode out, their presence immediately commanding the hallway.

 

Janey’s face broke into a wide grin, “Mommy!” she squealed, darting forward and wrapping her small arms tightly around Barb’s legs.

 

Barb leaned down with a small, fleeting smile. “Hi, sweetie,” she smoothed a hand over Janey’s hair before her expression turned serious again. She straightened and glanced at Bud. “We should skip communications and talk to Carlton directly.”

 

Bud shoved his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight to one side with a lazy sigh. “Ugh. An hour drive? I really don’t want to. Plus, I still need to pick up the inventory list for the HRT-03s we just got.” He flashed Hank a playful smile, his eyebrows bouncing. “There should be fifteen of them.” he said with an excited roll of his shoulders.

 

Hank bit the inside of his cheek, keeping his expression neutral,

 

Barb’s brow arched sharply. “Fifteen of the prototypes?” She scoffed, crossing her arms. “You actually made fifteen?”

 

Bud grinned smugly. “You want one?” he quipped,

 

Barb let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. Her hand drifted to Janey’s back.

 

With a final glance toward Bud,her tone shifted back to command. “Send Henry. I need your help diverting Carlton’s crew.”

 

Bud groaned—“Fine,” He turned toward Hank, reaching into his pocket and tossing his car keys into the air. Hank caught it with a clap of his hands and a surprised face. “It’s at the Griffith Park location,” he said, "Gate pass is in the glovebox.”

 

Hank nodded. “Should I go now?” He asked. 

 

Barb studied her Pip-Boy, flicking through its interface with quick precision. “Ask Bud. If we—meaning you—cancel with communications, we’ll have an hour before he and I need to leave. Which means—” She glanced down, prying the little girl from her legs. “I’m going to spend some time with my angel here.”

 

Janey beamed up at her mother, her small hands reaching eagerly. As Barb’s body shifted, she scooped Janey’s lifted hand into her own. The rhythmic click of Barb’s heels echoed as she strode purposefully down the hall, Janey skipping beside her, matching her mother’s confident pace on their way to the office.

 

Hank watched them for a moment, his gaze lingering before turning to Bud. “What exactly are the HRT-03s?”

 

Bud gave a lazy grin and began ambling toward his office. Hank fell into step beside him, mirroring his easy pace.

 

“Hazard Recon Transport,” Bud drawled. “It’s Vault-Tec’s third version of the VIP curbside pickup vehicle.”

 

Hank snorted “Did you name it yourself?”

 

Bud threw his arms wide with a flourish. “Babe, of course I did.”

 

As They reached Bud’s office, Hank noticed Susan, a secretary on loan from the 30th floor, stood off to the side, observing them quietly. Bud held the door open with exaggerated courtesy, waiting for Hank to step inside.

 

Once in, Bud shut the door with a soft click, turning back to Hank. He frowned, giving the older man a curious look.

 

“So,” Hank muttered, “you’ve been... extra showy lately.”

 

Bud moved toward his desk with an air of practiced nonchalance. “I’m a man in love, Hank. Don’t know what else to do about that.” He placed his briefcase on the desk, popping it open with a casual flick.

 

For a moment, he stood there, taking in the view inside the briefcase with a slow, satisfied grin. Nestled among the contents was a small ring box.

 

Hank stayed on the opposite side of the desk, craning his neck to see the contents, but Bud angled the case just enough to keep it hidden. “Yeah, sure,” Hank murmured, leaning his weight against the desk. “We haven’t exactly been subtle, but I thought we were trying to avoid... you know, the repercussions.”

 

Bud’s usual playful tone shifted, his voice dipping into a rare, somber register. “The world’s ending, Hank.”

 

The words hit harder than either of them expected. Hank’s expression faltered as he circled the desk, meeting Bud on the other side. Bud’s hand drifted, and the lid of the briefcase closed slowly with a soft thunk , concealing what lay inside.

 

“Buddy...” Hank’s voice softened. “This isn’t the end, okay? We’ve got spots in the vault.”

 

Bud shook his head, “I’m worried, Hank-" a frown settled into his features. "Worried we’ll get blindsided…I– I’m not as sure as I was a year ago.”

 

Hank met Bud’s gaze, the air between them heavy with unsaid things. Bud’s expression, usually carefree and mischievous, was now clouded with quiet apprehension. The slight pinch of his brows, the faint tension in his jaw—these were cracks in the armor Bud rarely let anyone see.

 

Hank's thumb brushes against Bud's cheek. Leaning in, he brushes a kiss over his lips, catching the soft pout with his own.

 

“Hey,” Hank whispered against him, “We’re gonna be okay. We’ll get through this. Together.”

 

Buddy smiled warmly. “Together, right.” His voice was soft but steady as he clasped Hank's hands in his own, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t forget—Musso & Frank Grill. 1900 hours sharp.”

 

Hank returned the squeeze, his fingers lingering before he pulled away, brushing down his outfit with a swift, habitual gesture. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he said, grinning. “I hope we see some celebrities.”

 

Leaning in again, Hank stole a quick kiss, “I’ll cancel that meeting with Lin. Then I’ll head out—get everything squared away as soon as possible.”

 

Buddy nodded, watching Hank with that same soft smile. “Okay... Drive safe. I love you.”

 

Hank, already halfway through the door, stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. “I love you! See you tonight.”

 

With that, the door closed behind him, leaving Buddy alone in the quiet of his office. For a moment, Buddy stood still, his eyes lingering on the door before exhaling a slow breath. He ran a hand along the edge of the briefcase on his desk, a faint smile ghosting across his lips.

 

---

 

Barb sat at her desk, one leg bouncing slightly beneath it, a restless tremor. She pressed the phone tighter to her ear, waiting for the familiar click that signaled a connection.

 

“Hello?” Cooper’s voice was sharp with concern.

 

“Coop, it’s Barb.”

 

There was a pause—just long enough for her to hear him inhale. “Barb—Is Janey okay?”

 

“She’s fine,” Barb reassured quickly. “I just... I need you to come pick her up within the hour. I have to head to another location, and I know Janey would rather be with you than... around a bunch of military personnel.”

 

Cooper responded without hesitation. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

 

Relief washed over Barb, loosening her grip on the phone. “Thank you—” she began, genuinely grateful he wasn’t turning this into an argument—

 

But then Cooper’s voice cut through. “You know, Barb, I really wish you’d respect the schedule.”

 

The corners of Barb’s mouth tightened as she exhaled slowly through her nose. When she spoke, her voice was sharp, but low enough not to carry. “Same old Cooper.”

 

She didn’t wait for a response, she set the phone down firmly ending the call.

 

Barb rose from her desk, Crossing the room. she stopped at the small tea table where Janey sat, completely absorbed in her coloring. With a quiet breath, Barb lowered herself into the tiny chair, her legs folding beneath her.

 

She reached for an untouched coloring book—'Color! Plant guide: Volume 2'. “May I?” she asked gently.

 

Janey barely acknowledged her, her hair tumbling forward as she leaned closer, flipping through the pages with slow, deliberate focus. “You can color this one,” she said, pointing with a small but confident finger at the outline of an amaranth plant.

 

Barb’s lips curved into a faint, melancholy smile. “This one here?” she asked, her finger tracing the plant’s intricate lines. “It’s pretty.”

 

“I don’t like that one,” Janey replied, brushing her hair back with a casual swipe, her attention already drifting back to her own book. The crayons scratched against paper in soft, rhythmic strokes as her small hands worked swiftly to fill in a rose. 

 

Barb watched her daughter in silence, the quiet rejection settling deeper than expected, coiling tightly in her chest. The lingering sadness was familiar but no less heavy. “I’m sorry I have to leave,” 

 

Without looking up, Janey replied, “It’s okay. I like being with Dad.”

 

Barb swallowed the lump rising in her throat, forcing a bittersweet smile onto her face. She reached for a red crayon, cradling it carefully between her fingers, and began to fill in the outline of the flower. “I know you do, baby,” she whispered.

 

Thirty minutes passed quicker than Barb expected, the weight of time slipping away before she could grasp it.

 

She walked Janey toward the entrance, just as Cooper stepped out of his car. The moment Janey spotted him, she let go of her mother’s hand. “Dad!” she squealed. Cooper, hidden behind dark sunglasses, broke into a wide smile, his large teeth gleaming as he crouched down, scooping Janey into his arms with an easy, familiar grace.

 

He stood upright, his gaze—shielded by the black lenses—settling on Barb as she approached. Janey’s small hands reached up eagerly to tug at his glasses. Cooper shook his head playfully, helping her pull them off. His steady, uncovered gaze now rested on Janey, and he gave her a gentle jostle to adjust her on his hip, making her giggle.

 

Barb stopped in front of them, her expression softening as she gave Janey a fond smile. She handed over the small suitcase, and Cooper accepted it effortlessly with his free arm.

 

“You’ll be at your apartment all day?” Barb asked, keeping her tone neutral but tinged with a hint of hesitation.

 

Cooper nodded. “Yeah, no steady work for now, so I’m free—” He gave Janey another playful toss, drawing more laughter from her. “Free for a movie marathon with my favorite gal.”

 

Barb pressed her hands together, her bittersweet smile faltering just slightly. “Alright, well, Janey—” she reached out, lightly rubbing her daughter’s leg, “I’ll pick you up tonight, okay? I promise. And we can go to dinner anywhere you want. How’s that sound?”

 

Janey’s smile dimmed only slightly as she tightened her arms around Cooper’s neck. “Can Dad come too?” she asked hopeful.

 

Barb hesitated, the question catching her off-guard. Before she could respond, Cooper spoke, his voice low and kind. “That’s such a sweet invite, from you ladies, but I already have dinner plans.”

 

Barb exhaled,“Maybe next time,” she said, leaning in to kiss Janey’s cheek.

 

Janey leaned forward, inviting her mother’s embrace. Barb held her tightly for a brief moment, then she let go, placing her daughter gently back on the ground.

 

The moment Barb set her down, the girl shot off like a rocket, sprinting toward the car with unbridled excitement.

 

“I love you!” Barb called out, the words catching in her throat as she watched Janey's curls bounce with every step away.

 

She twisted over her shoulder, her voice bright and carefree. “I love you too!” the declaration carrying over the lot.

 

Cooper and Barb stood silently, watching Janey reach the car. Barb exhaled, forcing a tense smile in Cooper’s direction.

 

Cooper studied her carefully, grimacing. “I don’t want to sound like a dick—”

 

Barb’s shoulders stiffened, “Then don’t,” she snapped.

 

Cooper raised one free hand, the other adjusting the suitcase with a small lift. “Are you sure you’ll pick her up tonight? I just don’t want her waiting again—”

 

“It was one time,” Barb said, her voice tight.

 

“One time was enough,” Cooper replied calmly. “I know you’re busy, but if you can’t make it, just tell me sooner.”

 

Barb closed her eyes. He had a point . “Fine. You’re right.” The words came clipped, as if releasing them took more effort than she’d like to admit. “I’ll call the second I think I can’t make it.”

 

“That’s all I ask.” He said, stepping off the curb without looking back.

 

Cooper opened the back door, giving Janey’s seat belt a quick tug before he closed the door.

 

Barb lingered, watching him from the curb. “Henry and I will both be away from the phone for a few hours!” she called, her voice cutting through the air.

 

“Alright,” Cooper replied, popping the trunk. He slid the suitcase in and shut it with a smooth thud.

 

Barb called again,“Henry knows she’s with you, just in case.”

 

“Noted!” his voice carried over the roof of the car before he slipped into the driver’s seat.

 

The car rolled forward, its engine humming quietly. Janey’s little hand pressed against the window, waving enthusiastically.

 

Barb smiled and waved back, holding the gesture until the car disappeared around the corner, leaving her standing alone in the parking lot

 

Barb turned, the faint click of her heels echoing against the pavement as she made her way back toward the building. The sun hung heavy in the sky, casting long shadows that stretched across the parking lot.

 

Just as she reached the entrance, Hank emerged, his satchel slung over one shoulder.

 

“Oh, perfect, Henry,” Barb said, stopping him mid-step.

 

“Yes, ma’am?” Hank replied, tugging the strap tighter across his chest.

 

“Janey will be at Cooper’s apartment all day. If I’m not there by six, I need you to pick her up,” she instructed, her tone sharp but measured.

 

Hank gave a quick nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

 

“And you’ve got his home number?” Barb’s gaze lingered on him, her expression unreadable.

 

“Yes,” Hank answered without hesitation.

 

“Alright, thanks,” Barb muttered brushing past him. “Drive safe.”

 

“You too, ma’am,” Hank said with a polite nod before continuing toward Bud’s car, the faint jingle of his keys accompanying his steps.

 

---

 

Cooper sat slouched on the couch, Roosevelt sprawled lazily between him and Janey. The old dog’s chest rose and fell steadily, his fur warm under Janey’s hand.

 

On the TV, a cartoon deer matador narrowly dodged a charging bull, smoke pluming from the bull’s flaring nostrils. The bull missed again, skidding clumsily as it turned for another pass. Janey threw her head back, cackling.

 

“He’s so stupid! Why does he keep doing that?” she exclaimed.

 

Cooper chuckled, “I don’t know, sweetheart,” he said– RRRRRING —The landline’s shrill ring filled the room, tugging his attention away. He groaned as he dragged himself off the couch. Janey stayed glued to the TV.

 

Cooper rushed into the kitchen, the phone’s shrill ring still echoing as he yanked it off the hook. “Hello?”

 

“Coop? It’s Fred. Got a job for you.”

 

Cooper’s brows shot up. “Oh yeah?” He reached for a notepad and pen on the counter. “When is it?”

 

“It’s today—”

 

Cooper paused mid-motion, lowering the pad as he rubbed his brow. “oh– I can’t do it today. I’ve got my daughter.”

 

Fred’s voice quickened, eager to convince. “Bring the kid! It’s a kid’s birthday party. Bob bailed with the flu, and they’re scrambling for a replacement. They need someone there in the next two hours.”

 

Cooper glanced toward the living room. Janey’s eyes were glued to the TV, her fingers still buried in Roosevelt’s fur.

 

“I—can’t. It’s too last minute.”

 

Fred cut in, dangling the bait. “How’s this for incentive? When I told the guy you were all we had left in the cowboy department, he said he’d pay time and a half to get you . Specifically.”

 

Cooper grimaced, biting his lip. He really needed the money. Sugarfoot was still at the stables—he could be there in no time.

 

“Alright, fine. Thanks, Fred. Give me the details.”

 

He scribbled down the job information, ending the call with a polite, “Appreciate it, talk soon.” Then, setting the receiver back on the cradle, he immediately dialed Barb’s number. It rang and rang—straight to voicemail.

 

Cooper sighed but kept his voice light. “Hey, Barb, I know you said you’d be away from the phone for a while, but I wanted to give you a heads-up. I just got a last-minute job! I know I said I’d be here all day, but I need the money, and.. it’s a kids' party! They’re fine with Janey tagging along, so she’ll have fun being my assistant.” He grinned to himself. “I’ll call you and Henry one more time before we leave. Just give me a call back when you can. Bye.”

 

Hanging up the phone, Cooper turned back toward the living room. Janey’s gaze shifted from the TV to her father, curiosity lighting up her face.

 

“Wanna go to a birthday party with Sugarfoot?” Cooper asked, his grin widening.

 

Janey shot forward, her eyes sparkling. “Yes!”

 

Both Cooper and Janey were dressed in matching, elaborate outfits—Cooper’s blue-and-yellow shirt rumpled from rushing, while Janey’s hung loose and carefree. As he picked up the phone, Cooper cradled the receiver between his ear and shoulder, dialing quick.

 

He turned to his daughter. His voice was gentle but brisk.  “Janey, say goodbye to Roosevelt. We’re out the door in five,” 

 

With one hand still holding the phone steady, Cooper gave his shirt a final tug, straightening the fabric with a small huff of frustration, tucking it firmly into his waistband.

 

The call rang and ended with voicemail. Cooper sighed “Henry, it’s Cooper Howard. I’m taking Janey to 1010 Rinconia Drive in Hollywood Hills. If you need to reach us, the house line is 714-555-3290. Thanks.”

 

He hung up, slipped his keys into his pocket, and settled his hat onto his head. Spotting Janey’s hat nearby, he picked it up, giving it a firm pat to reshape the brim before placing it on her. It was comically large for her.

 

As the line rang, Cooper cast a glance at the counter, eyes settling on the bananas. The call went to voicemail, just as he expected. He plucked a banana from the bunch and spoke into the phone.

“Hey Barb, me again. We’re leaving now. Gonna pick up Sugarfoot and head to 1010 Rinconia Drive.” He peeled the banana with one hand, and lowered it. Janey reached out eagerly.

“I left a message with Henry and gave him the house number—714-555-3290.” He paused, as if deciding whether to say more. “Look, I know you’re mad. You can take it out on me later.”

 

He ended by hanging the phone back on the wall. He turned to Studying Janey with a small, grin. Her face was already halfway buried in the fruit.

 

“You ready to go, kiddo?”

 

Janey nodded enthusiastically. And spoke with her mouth full. “Yup!”

 

“Alright then.” Cooper gave the apartment one last glance, then whistled low. Roosevelt’s ears perked up as the dog trotted over, tail wagging lazily.

 

Cooper knelt down, rubbing a hand affectionately over Roosevelt’s head. “Be a good boy, alright? I’ll be back soon.”

 

The old dog licked Cooper’s hand in response, sitting obediently by the door.

 

Cooper rose to his feet, tipping his hat back slightly. “Let’s go, Janey.” He opened the door wide, ushering her out with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

 

“Bye Roosevelt!” Janey waved over her shoulder.

 

Before stepping through the door, Cooper cast one last glance into the apartment. Roosevelt’s ears flicked at the movement, and a soft, low whine escaped him, his eyes following his human. 

 

Cooper smiled, “You’re a good boy, Roosevelt.”

 

Then, he pulled the door shut, turning the lock with a soft click.

 

---

 

Barb rubbed her temple, the steady pressure doing little to stave off the mounting headache. They’d been going in circles for over an hour, the conversation looping like a scratched vinyl. Each attempt to gauge Carlton’s involvement only seemed to deepen the pit they were digging themselves into.

 

Finally, Carlton snapped, "You can’t be serious. You guys think I’m the mole; Don’t you?"

 

Bud’s hand shot out "Ah-HA!” he pointed his finger– “How did you know we have a mole?"

 

Carlton scoffed, "Because no one’s heard from the president in days. That means she knows something we don’t." he slammed his hand on the table "The damn mole has a mole!"

 

Barb jumped. Her brows furrowed, "Days?" she echoed, "No one told me she’s been gone for days?" She struggled to piece together how such crucial information could have slipped past her.

 

Carlton rolled his eyes, "Don’t you listen to the radio?"

 

Bud shifted awkwardly in his seat, "I listen to music..."

 

Barb pressed her fingers to her lips-– the tips of her nails pressing a little too hard against her skin.

 

Bud’s shoulders dropped as he scratched the back of his neck, "So, uh... what now?"

 

Barb’s eyes fixed on him, calculating, "We need to get Shen back on the phone," she said slowly.

 

The walls around them hummed faintly, deep underground where the hum of unseen generators provided an omnipresent background drone. Every breath they took seemed to thicken the air further, as if the room were compressing in on them.

 

They sat in the bowels of a Vault-Tec military outpost, the concrete walls chilled and damp, yet suffocatingly close. The table before them gleamed with a dull metallic sheen under the cold, flickering overhead lights. Every shift in posture felt magnified.

 

Carlton leaned forward, attempting to regain control of the conversation. "We are ready to discuss the Overseer numbers—"

 

His words were cut off mid-sentence, the translator’s dispassionate voice bleeding through the line.

 

"We are fully aware of your plan to distract the People's Republic of China with false re-negotiations."

 

Bud let out a nervous laugh, "HA ha—what that’s ridicu—"

 

"Mr. Askins, please." Barb’s voice cut in, her expression tight as she shot him a glare. She leaned in sharply, elbows pressing hard against the metal table as if proximity to the receiver could change the outcome.

 

"Mr. Shen," she began, forcing an air of calm into her tone, "I assure you—"

 

The translator’s voice pierced through again, with the finality of a locked vault door.

 

"Mr. Shen made himself very clear after our last conversation. We have confirmed your deception. You have no intention of changing course."

 

The line hissed with static, cold and unforgiving. Barb’s pulse pounded in her ears.

 

"Therefore," the translator continued, "all communication between Mr. Shen and the People’s Republic of China will officially cease."

 

The line went dead.

 

The sharp, metallic click reverberated through the room, settling heavily in their chests.

 

Barb stared at the dead receiver, her grip on the edge of the table tightening until her knuckles ached. Her breath came in slow, deliberate draws-

 

"Oh."

 

All eyes turned to Bud. 

 

"The mole is Jefferson," he said casually.

 

Barb’s jaw slackened– 

 

---

 

“I’ve got a bad feeling,” Bud mumbled, hugging his briefcase tight to his chest. His arms curled around it like it was the only solid thing in the world.

 

Barb stared straight ahead, her arms crossed. They had tried to contact the President. No answer. Her gut twisted, but she forced her expression to remain still. There had to be a way. But first– She needed to pick up janey. 

 

“Something you ate?,” Barb asked, her voice dry, brittle.

 

Bud shifted on his feet, tightening his grip on the briefcase. “No, it’s because of the phone conver—”

 

“Obviously.” Barb’s voice cracked like a whip, cutting him off mid-sentence. She turned her head toward him with a look sharp enough to slice, eyes narrowing just enough to convey how pointless she found his commentary.

 

Bud blinked— The elevator dinged softly, the doors sliding open. Barb’s jaw clenched, and without missing a beat, she stepped inside, her heels clacking on the metal floor.

 

With a defeated sigh, Bud shuffled in behind her, The doors closing with a soft hiss, sealing them inside.

 

With ten floors to go, the silence pressed in around them, heavy and suffocating.

 

Bud’s thoughts kept looping back to Hank, Barb had said not to tell him— “Not yet.” But what if there wasn’t a 'later’ ? His heart thudded unevenly in his chest, a dull ache that only tightened the longer they stood there. He clutched his briefcase closer.

 

Beside him, Barb stood rigid, her gaze fixed on nothing as her thoughts sprinted ahead, chasing the worst-case scenarios. If the date wasn’t set—no vault ceremony, no plan—then there was no time to waste. They’d have to move into the vault tonight. She just needed to pick up Janey.

 

And Cooper... What about Cooper?

 

The floor rumbled. A low, hungry growl that slithered up their legs, through the bones in their feet. The lights flickered.

 

The elevator groaned, and everything stopped.

 

Bud swallowed hard—Barb’s breath stuttered.

 

Then it came again. A deeper, more violent tremor surged upward from the pit of the shaft, rattling the walls. Dust drifted down from the ceiling like ash, settling in their hair.

 

The blaring scream of an alarm ripped through the tiny space, a high-pitched wail that vibrated in their skulls, relentless and shrill.

 

Barb winced, her face twisting as she slapped her hands over her ears.

Beside her, Bud flinched violently covering his ears, his briefcase slipping from his grip.

It hit the floor with a dull thud, tumbling between their feet.

Bud gasped, scrambling to grab it, but the elevator lurched downward with a brutal jolt.

Barb yelped, her legs buckling. She braced herself against the railing, shoulders rising and falling with every sharp breath.

Another explosive noise, louder this time, reverberated through the shaft—a sharp, jarring crack that seemed to split the world in two.

The lights overhead flickered violently, leaving them suspended between bursts of light and dark, their faces a series of frozen, fractured expressions.

The sensation of free-fall gripped her, twisting her gut into knots, Their bodies lifted, weightless for a split second, then slammed back down. 

Bud let out a choked noise. His fingers scrambled for something—anything—to hold on to. Barb’s hand clenched tighter on the railing, the metal biting into her palm.

 

—the lights flickered again—off, on, off—before plunging the elevator into darkness.

 

The elevator fell. 

 

---

 

Barb stared at the papers one last time before tossing them onto the dining table. “This has to be a joke.”

 

Cooper sat hunched over, his elbows digging into the table, hands rubbing over his tired face. “It’s not—”

 

“How could you bring this up now?” Her voice wavered between disbelief and fury as her eyes darted around the room, searching for some anchor to steady her spiraling thoughts. The looming deadline of next year gnawed at her mind. This would ruin everything. “Why are you doing this?” she demanded, her brows knitting together.

 

Cooper exhaled a heavy, frustrated sigh, standing from his chair to snatch up the packet of papers. “I just don’t know who you are anymore—”

 

“Well, I don’t know who you are either!” Barb’s voice cracked, her words coming out in a shout that reverberated through the room.

 

Cooper flinched, glancing nervously up the staircase where Janey lay asleep in her room. “You’re gonna wake Janey,” he said, his voice strained with forced calm.

 

“Don’t you dare pretend you care about Janey,” Barb spat.

 

Cooper recoiled as if struck, then leaned forward, anger flashing in his eyes. “Hey—I am thinking about Janey. She needs one parent who actually gives a damn about the world—”

 

“Oh, save your self-righteous act for your next wife,” Barb cut him off, her arms folding tightly across her chest, “I can’t believe you’re letting a dog get in the way of—”

 

“It’s not just about the dog!” he shot back, his voice cracking with frustration. Realizing how loud he’d gotten, he winced, his gaze darting anxiously back up the stairs. He swallowed, lowering his tone. “This is about Vault-Tec. About them inciting nuclear war for profit.”

 

Barb’s face remained impassive, but her hands found her hips, the tension radiating through her body. “You sound ridiculous,” she said coldly.

 

 “I heard you,” he said flatly.

 

Barb’s composure faltered. That’s not possible. “Heard what? Tales from your Communist club?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

 

“No—” Cooper’s jaw tightened, and he stepped farther into the room, his grip tightening on the back of a dining chair. His eyes searched the darkness beyond the large pane window. “I planted a bug on you, supplied by my so-called Communist club.”

 

Barb blinked, He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. “What—”

 

“I didn’t want to believe them,” Cooper continued, his voice thick with something between anger and regret. “They told me you were on the wrong side of history, and I—I had to know.”

 

Barb’s face twisted in disbelief. “Who’s they?” she demanded, her voice rising. Fear and fury warred within her as she stepped forward.

 

“It doesn't matter–” he tried.

“It matters!” She shouted. Her chest tightened, the heat of betrayal prickling at the corners of her eyes.  “Everything I’ve done… has—mattered coop.” her face crumpled

 

 

as she groaned, the pain spreading through her like a jagged bolt—her head throbbed in sync with her racing pulse, and every inch of her body ached, but it was her arm that screamed the loudest. She shifted slightly, but the cramped space fought her movements, the jagged edges of debris sewing her in.

 

Metal groaned ominously, threatening to shift and collapse further if she pushed too hard. She froze, heart pounding, afraid to make a move. The air was stale, thick with dust and the faint sting of blood.

 

She took in a shaky breath as her left hand groped for her right arm. The joint was stiff, maybe dislocated— broken? She couldn’t tell. The throbbing in her head made her vision swim, a haze settling over her thoughts. A high-pitched ringing pulsed between her ears, distorting the world around her.

Janey.

The name floated through the fog, slipping in and out between the waves of pain.

Need to tell Cooper I’ll be late…

Barb blinked hard. The pounding in her skull grew louder, almost unbearable, as though the pressure inside her head was about to burst. She gasped for air, struggling to keep her thoughts anchored— Just get to Janey...

Then she heard it.

 

"Help me."

A voice—ragged and weak, almost swallowed by the darkness.

 

She craned her neck toward the sound, blinking through the blur clouding her vision. "Bud?" she whispered.

 

"Help me."
The same words, no more.

 

Her heart skipped. He had to be under the wreckage.

 

"Bud, where are you?" she called, Through a jagged tear in the elevator’s roof, she glimpsed part of the shaft above—a narrow, grimy hole where the flashing pulse of an emergency alarm strobed red across the rubble.

 

"Barb?" His voice sounded unbelievably small.

 

She leaned forward, hissing at the pain in her side. "How hurt are you? Can you move?"

"I... I can't move."

She heard the tremor in his voice. "It's okay. We’ll move the debris, and then—"

 

"I can't feel anything." His voice cracked, "I can’t—oh god..." A sharp, jagged inhale cut through the dark. "I can’t feel anything!"

 

Barb’s stomach flipped, a cold wave of nausea crashing through her. Her hands clenched, nails biting into her palms.

 

"What do you mean you can't feel anything?" Her voice was sharp, almost scolding.

 

His breathing hitched—a jagged, desperate gasp. "I can’t feel my hands–my legs" The raw panic in his voice sent a cold shock through her system.

 

"Bud, listen—" she began, trying to anchor him, but her words were swallowed by his sudden, gut-wrenching scream. 

"HELLLP!"

The sound tore through the tiny space, bouncing off the twisted metal walls, drilling into Barb’s already throbbing skull.

 

"Bud!" she snapped.

 

"HELP ME!"
The words were sharp, ragged with fear, spiraling higher with each breath.

 

Barb squeezed her eyes shut, willing her thoughts to align. "Bud, you need to calm down—"

 

"This can’t be happening!" He wailed.

 

Barb reached blindly through the debris, her hands fumbling, desperate to find even a piece of him—but nothing.

 

"I'm here, Bud. I'm here," she whispered, forcing her voice to stay steady, even as her chest felt like it was folding in on itself, crushed beneath the weight of the moment.

 

The screaming stopped, but she could still hear the tears—ragged breaths catching in his throat, jagged inhales as he fought not to break completely. There was a beat of silence, thin and fragile, stretched tight like a wire ready to snap.

 

"I was going to propose," he whispered.

 

Barb blinked, her heart twisting painfully. "You still can—"

 

"Get down on one knee?" A bitter, hollow laugh escaped him, scraping at the silence. "It’s over."

 

"Bud—"

 

"IT'S ALL OVER!"

His voice shattered through the wreckage, raw and thunderous. It felt like the entire shaft should have rattled under the weight of his rage, like the debris pinning him should shift just from the sheer force of his will. But nothing moved. Not the rubble. Not his body.

 

"IS SOMEONE IN THERE?"

A voice pierced the void, distant yet sharp, cutting through the suffocating quiet like a lifeline thrown into the dark.

Barb’s heart jolted. She turned her head, squinting into the dim, trying to gauge where the voice had come from, her pulse hammering in her ears.

 

"YES!" she shouted, her voice raw.

 

A faint rustle echoed back, followed by silence— too long, too uncertain.

 

Then Bud’s voice came again, low, lifeless. "It’s all over."

 

Barb clenched her jaw, forcing down the rising panic clawing at her throat.
"HELP US!" she screamed again.

 

---

 

Barb stepped into the chaotic swirl of the emergency zone, her sharp gaze locking onto a passing assistant. She reached out, gripping the woman's arm just enough to halt her.

 

“Get me a phone,” Barb ordered, brooking no argument.

 

“Yes, ma’am!” The assistant nodded briskly, eyes wide, and took off at a sprint, her footsteps quickly swallowed by the frenzy around them.

 

Barb exhaled through her nose, steadying herself as she turned back toward Bud and the Vault Tec EMT. Her heels were gone—left behind somewhere in the chaos—and every step sent a dull ache through her body, her makeshift sling tugging awkwardly at her injured arm.

 

She stopped just short of the VT-EMT, her gaze scanning Bud’s still form. He was strapped down tightly on the spine board, the cervical collar snug around his neck. His face, slack and pale. 

 

Barb took two more steps closer, her voice low and measured, trying to keep the rising dread from leaking through. “Do you know what’s wrong with him? He looks… normal?”

 

The EMT glanced up briefly from Bud’s IV, their face drawn with exhaustion. They adjusted a drip line with practiced precision, “Well it's a Spinal injury.”

 

Bud stirred faintly, a dry, cracked chuckle slipping from his lips. “Ha-uh-oh,” he mumbled, eyes fluttering.

 

Barb stood stiff beside him, her expression locked down tight, She looked at the medic, "Can you fix it here?"

 

The VT-EMT shot her a look, before shaking their head, giving Bud a once-over. "I can keep him going longer... stabilize his blood pressure, help with the breathing if it gets worse, and…I can make the pain stop—.”

 

Bud’s mouth twitched into a ghost of a grin.

 

A voice called the medic’s name from somewhere down the hall—urgent, sharp. The medic turned toward the sound, already on the move. "I gotta go," they said quickly, checking Bud’s IV one last time. "Get me if his breathing turns shallow."

 

Barb gave a terse nod, watching the medic disappear into the chaos beyond the emergency zone, their figure swallowed by the blur of running bodies and barking orders. The noise around her was a storm—frantic voices, the clatter of medical trays, and the steady hum of despair—but all she could hear was the pounding of her pulse in her ears. Janey. I need to get to Janey. Or have her brought to me. 

 

Her throat tightened at the thought, her resolve buckling for the briefest second.

 

She needed out of this station—Every second here was a second wasted.

 

Barb turned back to Bud, She clenched her jaw, the weariness clawing at her resolve, Henry. The name clicked into place like a puzzle piece she hadn’t realized was missing. Henry could get to Janey.

 

“Well, this certainly puts you in a predicament, doesn’t it?” A smooth, sardonic voice pulled her attention like a hook.

 

Barb turned too quickly, grimacing as pain flared down her arm. "Robert?"

Robert House, the founder, President, and CEO of RobCo Industries, strolled toward her. A band-aid, perfectly angled, clung to the side of his temple— In one hand, he held a cigarette, the tip glowing amber as he raised it to his lips, taking a languid drag.

 

Barb straightened as much as she could, “What are you doing here?”

 

A sly smirk curled the edges of House's mouth as he exhaled a plume of smoke, sending it spiraling downward. The wisps curled across the face of an injured woman nearby, making her cough weakly. 

 

“Lucky enough to be in a vault when the world went to hell,” he mused,“Unlucky enough for it not to be my own.”

 

He gave Barb a pointed look, the cigarette balanced effortlessly between two fingers.

 

“Isn’t Mr. Askins needed for that little program I invested in?” His tone was casual, but the glint in his eyes was sharp as a scalpel. “Uh—what did he call it? ‘Buds Buds,’ wasn’t it?” He gave a low chuckle, the smoke curling from his lips like it was in on the joke. “Do you think he even knows the punchline—that he doesn’t have any friends?”

 

Barb clenched her jaw, refusing to rise to the bait. “I don’t even know if the program will happen now. Half our management—more than half—might be gone.” Her words were clipped, as though the weight of them might crack her in half if she let them sit too long.

 

House flicked ash from the tip “Then wouldn’t it be in our best interest,” he said smoothly, “to save what staff we have left?”

 

Barb glanced down at Bud. His shallow breaths barely stirred his chest, his face slack with exhaustion. They couldn’t lose him. The program was Bud. Without him, there’d be no one capable of training the next technician, no contingency plan, no way forward. Too much hinged on his survival, and the idea of more slipping from her control—

 

She looked back up at House, her throat tight. “What can you do to save him?”

 

The glow of House’s cigarette deepened as he took another slow drag, his mustache catching the ember’s red light for an instant. His smirk returned.

 

---

 

Carlton stormed into the room, a man who had no patience left to spare.

 

“I want a report!” he snapped.

 

A technician stumbled forward, pale and trembling, his clipboard clutched to his chest. “Confirmed nuclear device detonated—downtown Los Angeles,” he stammered, “Fallout is already spreading across the city.”

Barb limped toward them, her steps uneven, “How did it get here so fast? Undetected?” she demanded.

 

The technician shifted nervously under her gaze, “It appears... whatever went off was buried,” he murmured.

 

Barb’s pulse quickened, sweat beading along her brow despite the chill in the air. Her mind shot to Cooper’s apartment— How close is it to downtown? Suddenly the very city she was born in was a complete mystery.

 

The assistant came barreling back, breathless and red-faced. “I’m sorry, ma’am! It took a while to find one that wasn’t—”

Barb snatched the phone from the assistant’s hand without waiting for the explanation, her voice clipped. “Thank you.”

 

Carlton paced farther into the room, barking orders at a chaotic knot of personnel. His voice boomed, demanding evacuation plans, next steps, and updates, but Barb blocked it out, her focus narrowing to the heavy weight of the phone in her hand.

 

She punched in the numbers, her fingers trembling against the plastic buttons. She held her breath.

 

Cooper’s home line wasn’t connecting. The empty silence on the other end of the line clawed at her nerves, sending a ripple of frustration through her. With a sharp click, she hung up again, her shaky breath filling the stillness.

 

Her fingers trembled as she punched in another number—her personal fallout line, the one reserved for emergencies. The phone whined softly in her ear before a mechanical voice greeted her: "You have two new messages."

 

The first message began with a crackle, and Barb closed her eyes, covering her mouth with one hand.

 

“Hey, Barb. I know you said—”

 

Her chest tightened, and hot tears welled in her eyes, slipping down her cheeks. She sniffled hard, wiping at her face as if she could scrub the emotion away.

 

She barely breathed as the second message began.

 

“Hey, Barb, me again. We’re leaving now...”

 

—She sucked in air too quickly, The room seemed to shrink around her, pressing in from all sides. She hung up abruptly.

 

She nodded to herself, biting her lip so hard it stung. The Griffith location's number... it was somewhere in her mind, swirling just out of reach, taunting her. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to focus. Think , Barb, think.

 

Her hand shook as she began to dial again, the buttons sticky under her fingertips.

 

The phone connected with a burst of static and chaotic noise—voices shouting, the clatter of equipment, footsteps pounding in the background. Somewhere in the mess, a rough voice cut through.

“Griffith.”

 

Barb tilted her head back, exhaling a breath of shaky relief, despite the knot twisting tighter in her chest.

“This is Barbara Howard, clearance level—”

 

The voice interrupted her, dripping with impatience. “Lady, I’m the janitor. You wanna talk to someone specific, or...?”

 

Barb blinked, stunned for a second. Of course. She swallowed her irritation and forced her voice into a steadier tone. “Hank MacLean.”

 

There was a rustling on the other end, papers shuffling, a distant thud—someone dropping something heavy. “Hank MacLean?” the janitor called out, his voice fading as he shouted into the chaos. “Hey! Anyone know a Hank MacLean?”

 

Time stretched painfully thin. Barb sat rigid, one manicured nail caught between her teeth, chewing absently as the moments dragged. Every second felt like an eternity, with Carlton’s booming voice thundering in the background, barking orders that bounced uselessly off the walls.

 

Then, finally—a voice broke through the noise, panicked and unmistakably familiar.

 

“Buddy?!”

 

 Relief surged through her, “Henry!” she exhaled, her voice cracking under the weight of emotion. The tension melted from her face, the tight lines around her mouth softening. 

 

“Barb? Where’s Bud? Is he okay?”

 

Barb clenched the phone tighter, her gaze flicking to Bud in the distance– "He’s... incapacitated at the moment, but he’ll be fine." 

 

“What happened?” Hank’s voice sharpened, panic edging in.

 

Barb swallowed hard, “Start deploying the HRT-03 units. They’re going to have to work.”

 

She hesitated just long enough to emphasize the next part. "Send one for me and Bud. Take another for yourself. You need to find Janey. Meet us at base."

 

“If something’s happened to Bud—” Hank’s voice cracked, his control slipping.

 

Barb cut him off, her voice dropping like a blade. “Henry. You are to take an HRT and find my daughter. She has a tracker.” The warning in her tone was unmistakable. "If you don't—"

 

“Barb, please—” Hank’s voice wavered, thin and brittle, like it might shatter.

 

Barb leaned closer to the phone, her words cold, deliberate, and final. “I can’t take away Bud’s spot in the Vault..." She let the silence hang, heavy with implication. "But I can take away yours."

 

A beat of dead air followed, buzzing with unspoken tension.

 

Then Hank’s voice came through, sharp and clipped. “Understood, Mrs. Howard.”

 

“And Henry.” she hissed.

 

A pause. Now or never.

 

“Yes, Mrs. Howard?”

 

“Leave Cooper.”

 

Chapter 20: Tick - Tock - Boom

Notes:

Hello! I'm excited to be back with another update. Please Enjoy!

Cooper and Lucy made their way lazily back to Philly the next wet afternoon. His arm was draped over her shoulders as he squinted at the town’s back entrance. Something was off.  

 

She frowned as the comforting weight of his arm disappeared. He shifted, placing it in front of her like a protective barrier. “Hang on…” he muttered. There should be guards , especially with the town's recent struggles with raids.

 

Lucy stopped, her brow furrowing as she took in the silence that blanketed Philly. She looked at Cooper, a worried expression clouding her face. “Do you think something’s wrong?”

 

He bent his head to meet her gaze. “You tell me,” he replied evenly.

 

Lucy’s eyes shifted back to the town. She remembered her previous visits— the noise , the constant bustle. This quiet, this stillness, is wrong . The back entrance was left completely unguarded. “It’s too quiet,” she said, glancing back at Cooper. He nodded slowly, his lips pressing into a thin line.

 

“What can you see?” he asked.

 

Lucy’s brow knitted tighter. “No one…” she replied. Obviously …

 

“Right.” Cooper fought to roll his eyes. “So what can you smell ?”

 

Her eyes widened. “Smell?” She hadn’t begun to understand the full extent of her sense of smell. Taking a quick, instinctive inhale, her hair was gently tousled by the wind as it passed, and a wide variety of scents rushed to fill her senses. 

 

Cooper, under the brim of his hat, tilted his head to the sky, his hollow nasal cavity catching the breeze. Troubles come to town…. “What do you smell?” he repeated. 

 

Lucy thought for a moment, but the scents surrounding her were overwhelming. When she tried to pinpoint one, she shook her head. “I smell a lot of things—”

 

“But what do you recognize?” Cooper interrupted.

 

She grimaced. “I can’t—”

 

“You can,” he chuckled, “You’ve smelled this before, I promise.” He moved behind her, guiding her with his hands on her shoulders. “Here,” he instructed softly. “First, close your eyes.” His breath was warm against her ear. “Listen for the wind. When you hear it approaching, inhale just as it hits your face. I’m going to be silent, and you’re going to focus all your attention on that button nose of yours.”

 

The heat from his hands felt reassuring to her jittery nerves. With closed eyes, she inhaled deeply. The first scent was the dirt carried by the wind, earthy and familiar. Then came the subtle, sharp tang of radiation hanging low to the ground. Next, she detected the aroma of cooking meat from the town, mingling with the distinct scent of ghouls, reminiscent of the wedding celebration.

 

“There are ghouls,” she whispered.

 

She felt Cooper nod beside her, his voice a soft rumble near her ear. “There’s something else… something more specific.”

 

Lucy’s eyes moved rapidly under her lids as she concentrated, trying to recall more. A memory of the scents she’d been carrying with her surfaced, and then—“My dad!” she exclaimed, her eyes flying open to look at Cooper. He smirked slightly. That one’s too easy.

 

“Yeah, your daddy. But there’s another scent, one you should learn to pick up from a distance.”

 

Lucy frowned, frustration tightening her expression as she lightly stomped her foot. “But—” she protested. Even with these supposed super senses, The pressure of the looming trouble in town only made it harder to focus, her nerves wound tight with worry

 

“Close your eyes again,” Cooper shushed her gently, his voice a calm command. Lucy pursed her lips and faced forward, tilting her nose to the sky. She waited, focusing on the breeze as it approached. When it brushed her face, she inhaled deeply.

 

The first scent she caught was familiar: the dry, chalky smell of crumbling concrete and cracked asphalt. It carried with it the weight of abandonment, dreams left to erode. The breeze shifted again, carrying a bitter, oily scent of burning rubber mixed with the stench of decaying wood. It made her throat tighten with unease, conjuring memories of their frantic escapes and smoke.

 

But there— wait. Something else lingered at the edges, It was an odd, sour smell , but layered with a strange, chemical bitterness that made her nose wrinkle and her stomach twist. It clung to the wind like a stubborn stain, different from the usual ghoul rot. Nervous energy prickled at the back of her neck, reminding her of a time when she felt exposed and vulnerable. 

 

Her eyes flew open, her gaze locking in the direction of Philly.  “Marcus.”

 

---

 

They crept along the crumbling wooden boards, inching forward to get a view of the town square. The scene that greeted them was grim: Hank knelt in the center, his arms wrenched behind his back, his face battered and streaked with blood. Marcus stood nearby, arms crossed, a grimace pulling at his features as he watched a ghoul land another brutal punch to Hank’s jaw. Marcus had never been a fan of outright physical violence, but Hank had refused to cooperate with his gentle requests. Blood sprayed from Hank’s mouth, and his body swayed dangerously, each blow threatening to knock him over for good.

Around them, the townsfolk of Philly stood lined up, not forced to watch but clearly trapped, frustration and unease rippling through the crowd at being unable to leave or go about their day. Near the center, Max stood against a wooden beam, his arms shackled in place around it. He looked around, his expression a mix of boredom and irritation.

 

The ghoul delivering the blows stepped back, and Marcus moved forward, his jaw clenched with a grim sort of regret. “I hate that it’s come to this,” Marcus said, He grabbed a fistful of Hank’s hair, holding his head steady as it lolled forward. “I’m going to ask again. Where is Vault 96?”

 

Lucy pulled away from her peephole in the fence. “What are we going to do?” she whispered, Marcus had even more ghouls now, and they were armed to the teeth. She rubbed her temples, trying to think through the panic, frustration boiling up inside her. Why was it always my dad?

 

Cooper stayed crouched, He flinched as Hank took another brutal punch, followed by a vicious kick to the abdomen that left him crumpled on his side. Cooper’s lips curved into a subtle, impressed purse. Gotta hand it to Henry– The guy knows how to take a beating. Still, the urge to voice how all of this could have been avoided was hard to resist. “We could get a time machine and kill Marcus when I first suggested it?” he proposed. 

 

Lucy punched him in the arm, her whisper harsh. “I’m serious!”

 

Cooper smirked and rose to face her—  before either of them could react, an arm snaked around Lucy’s neck, yanking her backward. Cooper lunged forward furious; when another arm appeared wrapping tightly around his neck. He stumbled, feeling the weight of his assailant draped across his back. “Ahh,” a voice grunted in his ear.

 

Lucy’s eyes widened in panic as a boot kicked the back of her knees, forcing her to collapse. The grip around her neck released, only for a hand to fist in her hair. A large knife glinted in the sunlight as it was brought threateningly to her neck. She stilled, her breath coming fast and shallow, her eyes darting to Cooper. He was still wrestling with his own attacker, a wiry ghoul clinging to his back, legs dangling and arms locked around Cooper’s neck.

 

Cooper grunted, as he leaned forward and threw his assailant over his shoulder, sending the young ghoul crashing to the ground. In an instant, Cooper straightened, pulling out his gun, aiming it at the boy sprawled at his feet. “Big fucking mistake,” Cooper growled, finger positioning on the trigger.

 

Lucy’s mind raced. A gunshot would draw Marcus’s attention— and that ghoul , she realized, “Cooper, stop!” she hissed urgently. “ That’s Thaddius !”

 

The hand gripped in Lucy’s hair loosened lightly at her words. 

 

Cooper’s tense death glare remained fixed on the young ghoul beneath him. “ Who the fuck is Thaddius ?” he demanded.

 

The scrappy blonde on the ground scrambled backward, hands up in panicked surrender. “M-me! I’m Thaddius! Don’t shoot me!”

 

A firm voice spoke behind Lucy. “How do you know Thaddius?”

 

Lucy tilted her head, the knife still hovering dangerously close to her skin. She turned slowly to see her attacker. Recognition dawned. So this must be– “Dane?” she said, her voice steadying. “You’re Dane and Thaddius… Max’s brothers.” She stated turning her gaze back to cooper. 

 

Cooper's jaw twitched. Brotherhood of the steel deserters — He let out a frustrated exhale. ”Fuck.” he muttered under his breath– stiffly swinging his gun with a flourish, and placing it back into his holster.  He stepped back casting a hard look at ‘ Dane ’. 

 

The lanky kid’s grip on Lucy’s hair remained firm, their expression unreadable. Cooper locked eyes with Dane, A silent challenge lingered in his gaze before he tilted his head toward Lucy “Your turn,” he commanded.

 

Lucy looked up as much as she could, her breath catching. Dane’s mouth tightened into a thin line as they readjusted their grip on the knife. Then, their gaze met hers. Max had talked about Dane’s piercing, cool gray eyes, but seeing them up close was different—intense, and haunting. Their eyes searched hers, a flicker of something deep and conflicted passing through. Dane’s brow furrowed, and after a moment of hesitation, they released their grip on her hair, stepping back and giving her space.

 

“You guys know Max?” Dane asked.

 

---

 

A plan had been made.

 

Cooper strode into the lion’s den alone, his steps unhurried, “This better not fucking backfire…” he muttered. Cooper navigated through the maze of tight alleys, weaving past rusted dumpsters and walls plastered with peeling art work. He didn’t bother crouching or hugging the shadows too closely. Instead, he moved with a kind of reckless nonchalance. 

 

As he approached the center square, he ambled up to the edge of a crumbling wall and, with a casual lean, peeked around the corner. The motion was sloppy, too loose for a man expecting trouble. The moment his eyes landed on two of Marcus’s men, he jerked back a little too abruptly. His boot caught an empty can, and it skittered across the alley floor with a loud, grating clatter, the noise accentuated by the sharp jangle of his spurs. 

 

“Hey… is someone over there?” one of the ghouls grunted, the irritation in his voice making Cooper grin. 

 

“Yeah, just come out! No point being sneaky,” the other called out, a mocking edge to his words.

 

Alright, here goes nothing. — He moved with a practiced grace, his gaze was steady as he faced off the two men “ Howdy ,” he said.

 

The two ghouls exchanged a confused look, momentarily disarmed by his composed demeanor. But hesitation quickly turned to aggression, and they lunged for him.

 

---

 

“They've got four convoys, and roughly twenty guards stationed outside the entrance,” Dane murmured, crouching low beside Lucy and Thadious. The three of them lay hidden, eyes locked on Marcus’s impressively large force assembled just beyond Philly’s main gate, not also forgetting his group inside the walls.

 

Thadious made an irritated tsk . “Man, those are Brotherhood vehicles. They must’ve stolen them!”

 

Lucy squinted, focusing on the back of one of the trucks where the bumper was marked with a flag labeled #4.  Cages were stacked high, packed with animals. “They’ve got livestock,” she noted.

 

Dane pulled out a pair of binoculars, scanning the convoy. The animals were covered in scabs and sunken patches, their flesh warped and radiation-scarred. “Those aren’t just any animals,” they said, “They’re ghoulified.”

 

“Aw, sick!” Thadious said, He snatched the binoculars from Dane with one hand. “We have to take a chicken.”

 

Dane rolled their eyes, leaning back, drawing Lucy’s attention. She shifted back onto her heels giving them a serious, persuasive nod. “We’re not blowing up that one,” she insisted.

---

 

“Boss! Look who we found!”

 

Marcus turned, his thick brow lifting in mild surprise as two of his men guided The Ghoul forward. The towering super mutant, with his green, weathered skin crossed his muscular arms over his broad chest. 

 

Cooper's arms casually rose in mock defense, a smirk curling at his lips. “Marcus,” he greeted. 

 

Deep scars criss crossed his face, a hint of confusion in Marcus’s eyes. “What’s all this about?” he asked. 

 

Cooper lowered his arms and gave a lazy shrug. “You know how it is—duty calls. Got to save the in-law and all,” 

 

Marcus’s gaze drifted to Hank, who lay bruised and coughing on the ground. “ Him ?” he asked. He was surprised that The Ghoul held that much consideration for the old vault dweller. 

 

“And the boy tied to the pole,” Cooper added with a point of his wedding finger. 

 

Max frowned, “Boy?” he echoed.

 

Marcus's brows furrowed a little deeper, Saving TWO people? “You’re telling me you got caught trying to save them both?”

 

Cooper’s brow creased, and he tilted his head. “Yes?” This wasn’t exactly the third degree he’d been expecting. 

 

Hank spat out blood, shaking his head in irritation. “Fucking useless—” he growled under his breath.

 

Marcus sighed, his gaze drifting back to Jonah and Mateo. “Really?” he asked, his tone laced with disbelief. “You two caught him?” His expression grew thoughtful, and he quickly added, “No offense, of course.” After all, The Ghoul wasn’t exactly known for getting captured without leaving a string of bodies in his wake.

 

The pair shared a sheepish look, shuffling their feet and mumbling awkward excuses.

 

Cooper clicked his jaw looking at the fumbling two. A wry smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah—guess I’m just getting sloppy.”

 

Marcus let out a disbelieving snort, “I sincerely doubt that.” 

 

“Well, thank you,” Cooper replied.

 

Marcus rolled his eyes. “Where's Lucy?” 

 

Cooper sighed, tilting his head back as if searching for the answer in the sky. “Well, first she told me to tell ya ‘hi’—”

 

Marcus let out an exasperated sigh, waving a large hand in dismissal. “Shackle him to the pole,” He didn’t have time for whatever distraction the Ghoul was clearly serving. 

 

Two of Marcus’s men, stationed near Max, moved forward and seized Cooper, who offered no resistance. Max scowled, stepping aside as Cooper was shoved into place. He watched as each of the ghoul’s wrists was secured above his own, the metal bindings clinking into place.

 

Max arched an eyebrow. “This isn’t exactly a stellar rescue,” he muttered.

 

Cooper ignored him.

 

---

 

“Hello! Hi!” Lucy called out, waving enthusiastically as she approached the group of soldiers gathered near the convoys. The air was thick and heavy, as heads turned, curiosity drawing the ghouls closer, their glowering eyes flickering with interest in the dim afternoon. They were a ragged bunch, skin cracked and peeling, with the occasional patch of exposed bone catching what little light filtered through the clouds.

 

As the vault dweller ghoul approached, the ghouls shifted, their movements a blend of cautious curiosity. “Hey, are you Lucy?” one of them asked, his voice raspy but tinged with genuine interest. A ripple of recognition spread through the group, some nodding while others exchanged intrigued, knowing glances.

 

Lucy paused, momentarily taken aback. “Oh, yes, I am… Lucy?” she said, her voice wavering slightly.

 

One of the ghouls noticed her surprise and offered an explanation. “Everyone in Jacobstown heard about the fresh vault dweller,” he said. Another ghoul, one Lucy suddenly recognized from the wedding celebration, added, “She’s also Lucy The Ghoul .” A few others nodded, murmuring in agreement.

 

Lucy blinked, her eyes widening at the title that was obviously tied to Cooper’s bounty hunter persona. Her mouth opened slightly in surprise, and a faint, nervous smile pulled at her lips. “Uh—” she started, but her attention wavered as she caught sight of Thadious and Dane crouched low, carefully moving behind the line of convoys. A nervous laugh bubbled up and escaped her.

 

The ghouls seemed to be ignoring her, and one of them looked genuinely puzzled. “What do you mean? We’re all ghouls. Am I Marco The Ghoul now?”

 

Lucy’s mouth twitched, and she opened it to answer, but another ghoul in the back cut her off. “No, no, it’s a title. Based on that one ghoul who’s been around for, like, ever…” Her smile faltered, and her eyes flicked nervously between the ghouls.

She tried to speak again, managing only a small peep before Thadious's foot snagged on a rock. She sucked in a quick breath, as she watched him stumble forward, unable to catch himself. Dane spun around, panic flashing across their face. Lucy's mouth tightened into a worried line as she watched Thadious's legs kick frantically, dust scattering as Dane pulled them both from view.

 

Marco spoke up loudly, his voice cutting through the air. “I’ve never heard of this.”

 

“What?” another ghoul blurted out, his disbelief turning into an accusation. “He’s lying.”

 

The entire group turned toward Marco, disbelief washing over them like a wave. “How have you never heard of The Ghoul?” one asked.

 

Marco threw up his hands defensively, eyes wide. “Okay, fine! I’ve heard of The Ghoul, but I thought he was just a myth.”

 

Meanwhile, Thadious reached the back of a convoy, fumbling anxiously with the number flag, his fingers trembling with the urgency of their mission. Dane stayed alert, casting wary glances at the arguing ghouls, ready to act.

 

Another ghoul eagerly joined the conversation, eyes wide with excitement. “He’s ancient! They say he’s seen dinosaurs and became a ghoul when the first bomb fell right on top of him!”

“That’s dumb—he’d be ash if a bomb fell right on top of him,” someone countered, rolling their eyes. The group erupted into a heated debate, their voices overlapping in a chaotic symphony of disbelief and exaggerated legends.

 

Dane crawled under the convoy, their shaved head just barely brushing the underside of the vehicle as they carefully pulled out a simple switch bomb. Their trench coat was bristling with improvised explosive gear—homemade devices strapped and tucked into every pocket and seam. Mud-caked combat boots scraped against the dirt as they adjusted their position, moving with practiced stealth. Earlier, they had been far too eager to show off their fiery arsenal, the gleam in their eyes betraying just how much they’d embraced their newfound role as the group’s resident firebug.

 

“Not if it was The Ghoul ,” One argued, her voice rising. “He could totally survive it, idiot!” They shoved each other, and the group dissolved into a heated debate, arguing over the various legends surrounding The Ghoul’s origins.

 

Finally, one of them raised their voice above the chaos. “Why don’t we just ask Lucy?” The group fell silent, logic prevailing as they turned their collective attention back to her.

 

A flush creeped up her neck as she found herself the center of attention once more. She couldn’t ignore the sense of duty to uphold the folklore surrounding Cooper’s infamous title. With a resolute nod and a knowing smile, she declared, “The bomb fell directly on top of him.”

 

A hush fell over the group. Some ghouls looked disappointed, while others grinned victoriously, nodding as if they’d won a bet.

 

Dane unspooled the wire carefully, keeping an eye out for any sudden movements, while Thadious finished swapping the numbered flags on the vehicles. With a satisfied nod, the young ghoul crept around to the back of the convoy carrying the animals. “Chicken, chicken, chick—” he whispered, only to freeze mid-sentence. His eyes widened at the sight of a creature in the back, its distressed whines cutting through the air.

 

“Look— Everyone I’m super excited to get to know each and every one of you, but right now, I don’t know if you know…” she turned and pointed at the walled city behind her. “Marcus is publicly beating my father.” 

 

The ghouls around Lucy exchanged wary glances. “We’re not going to help you rescue him, if that’s what you’re after,” one of them said.

 

Lucy’s furrowed brow softened; she lifted her hands in a placating gesture, “Oh, no, no, of course not,” she reassured them. I was just hoping to gain an escort to speak with Marcus. Would that be acceptable?”

 

One of the soldiers stepped forward, shaking his head. “The front is closed to keep the people of Philly from escapin’. We can’t take you in.”

 

Lucy’s gaze shifted to a fire-scarred ladder leading up to the top layer of the town. She pointed at it. “What if I climbed up there and made my case from the balcony? With your escort, of course,” she added quickly.

 

The ghouls glanced at each other, then back at Lucy. Her eyes, weary but resolute, seemed to hold no threat—just a desperate kind of hope. Finally, one of the ghouls let out a sigh and shrugged. "Alright," he agreed, his voice rough but yielding. "I’ll go with you."

 

Lucy beamed, clapping her hands together in delight. “Great—thank you!” She made her way toward the ladder, pausing to give the group an enthusiastic wave. “It was a pleasure meeting all of you!” she called, then leapt for the ladder, grabbing hold and starting her climb.

 

---

 

Lucy moved carefully and reached the rough edge, lifting herself to the platform. Her chest rose and fell as she wiped her sweaty palms on her jumpsuit. Straightening up, she took a steadying breath and inspected the scene below.

 

Hank lay motionless on the ground, and Marcus loomed over Max and Cooper on the makeshift stage. 

 

Marcus placed his hands on his hips.  “Why are you making this difficult? Honestly!” he half pleaded.

 

“Excuse me!” Lucy’s voice rang out from her perch, echoing over the square. It was the perfect spot, her voice amplified by the height, catching everyone’s attention. Marcus’s head snapped up, along with the eyes of the gathered crowd.

 

“Lucy!” Marcus called out, a pleased grin spreading across his face. The damp town square below was still slick from the earlier rain, the scent of wet earth mixing with rust and decay. Water dripped from the edges of rooftops, landing in scattered puddles on the pavement.

“Perfect timing. Where is Vault 96?”

 

“Vault 96 is in the Appalachian Mountains,” Lucy replied, her voice steady. She stood firm on the damp metal roof, feeling the slick surface beneath her boots. 

 

Marcus’s smile widened. “Really.”

 

Lucy gave him a firm nod, her grip tightening on the dagger at her side.

 

He stepped forward, narrowing his eyes at her, “Why would my men—and the Brotherhood—be tracking a quantum core trail leading right through here?”

 

Lucy gave a nonchalant shrug. “Couldn’t say–I’m just here for my partner, my friend, and my father.”

 

His amusement only grew. “That's a hefty exchange for the lie you’ve just handed me.”

 

Lucy gave a wistful sigh, her big brown doe eyes widening slightly. Her gaze turned distant, the warmth in her expression belying the seriousness of her words. “Actually, it’s in exchange for every convoy you’d like to save.”

 

Marcus tilted his head, exhaling a long, weary sigh as he shook it. When he spoke, his voice carried a stern, almost paternal edge, “This isn’t a game, kid. I need what Vault 97 sent to 96, and you’re making things harder for everyone by acting stubborn

 

The authoritative cadence cut through her like a knife, and for a moment, it was as if she were a little girl again, bracing for her father’s disappointment.  A sharp, pinching ache settled between her eyes, spreading across her forehead. 

 

Then wind brought a chaotic blend of wet earth and everything else in existence, But woven through it all, like a whisper of comfort, came Cooper. The rugged blend of leather, spiced hickory, and old, sun-bleached wood filled her senses, an unexpected comfort that cut through the tension and steadied her heart.

 

Cooper’s gaze stayed fixed on Lucy. Her figure was backlit by the sun, glowing in a radiant halo that made her seem almost otherworldly. The light streamed around her in golden flares. She was like the moon in an eclipse—beautiful, steady, and captivating in her defiance, casting her own kind of glow that softened the sun’s harsh brilliance. If her posture and composure were any clue, things were unfolding exactly as planned. Marcus’s voice pulled his attention back to the moment, and he noticed Max shifting uncomfortably at his side.

 

“Your mentor here—” Marcus gestured sharply toward Cooper, his voice straining with growing frustration. “Has filled your head with the idea that you can exist as an agent of chaos,” he said, his tone booming but not unkind. His brows furrowed, and he took a step closer, exhaling heavily. “This world isn’t livable without community, and every time you fight that, it gets harder for all of us.” He rubbed his temples, “My people— your people—need as much Goo as we can get,” he insisted.

 

Lucy drew in a steady breath, It wasn’t that she didn’t care—she did, deeply—but she genuinely didn’t know where Vault 96 was. No one did, except her father. And as she looked at his broken, bloodied form, a pang stirred in her chest. Even if she knew, She wouldn’t betray the location blindly. Vault 96 could be home to communities like Vault 33 or Vault 4—people surviving, clinging to fragile existences. Something sinister might be connected to it, yes, but she wouldn’t jeopardize innocent lives without knowing the full picture. 

 

She swallowed hard, the lump in her throat tightening. None of her reasoning would matter to Marcus. Explaining herself would only waste the element of surprise. So she held her head high, her expression blank and unwavering, and spoke down to the square below. “I understand, Marcus. I do,” she said, her voice steady and unyielding. “Now, please let them go.”

 

Marcus snapped his gaze to Cooper, gestured in Lucy’s direction, his irritation finally boiling over. “God, is she thick in the head?” 

 

Cooper gave a half-hearted nod, his boots scuffing against the dirt stones. “Sometimes,” he replied. 

 

Lucy felt the guard ghoul shift behind her, the creak of his boots resonating through the slick, rain-slicked roof. She bent her legs slightly. Then, with her voice loud and steady, she cut through the air. “You have until the count of five.”

 

"Or what?" he challenged.

 

 She didn’t answer him.

 

Just openly stared.

 

He squinted. Waiting…

 

"What are you doing—”

 

Before he could say more, a deafening explosion erupted behind Lucy, painting the sky with brilliant hues of fiery orange and molten gold. The flames roared upward, streaked with angry reds and flashes of bright, searing white. The city seemed to hold its breath as one of the convoys hurtled skyward, a silhouette against the chaotic inferno, tumbling end over end above the wall.

 

The crowd of onlookers in Philly collectively lifted their heads, eyes wide with shock and awe. Lucy hadn’t flinched at the explosion. Instead, she’d turned gently, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the searing brightness. She watched along with the crowd, as the convoy arced through the air. Finally, it slammed back down out of sight with a thunderous crash— the impact sent a tremor through the ground.

 

And that was when the real chaos broke loose—shouts and cries erupted, people scattered, and panic swept through the square like a wildfire.

 

Marcus leapt from his platform, lifting his gaze. “You said I had till the count of five!” he roared, his massive frame rigid with barely contained rage.

 

Lucy whipped around, hands settling on her hips as she shouted down with a smile. “I counted in my head!”

A grin spread across Cooper’s face, and a booming laugh escaped him.

 

Marcus ground his teeth at her response, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he fought to rein in his frustration. A low, guttural groan escaped him and he barked at the stunned soldier standing behind her. “Which convoy was it?” he demanded

 

The soldier shook off his shock, his body snapping to attention as adrenaline coursed through him. Leaning forward, he squinted through the thick, rising smoke and flames, his eyes narrowing with effort. “Number Four!” he shouted, making himself heard over the chaos.

 

A wave of panic surged through Marcus as he spun toward his men in the town square. “Get out there now—save the animals!” he bellowed, and the soldiers sprang into action, bursting toward the front entrance of Philly in a mad scramble.

 

Marcus turned back, eyes snapping to the two men tied to the pole—Used to be tied to the pole.

 Cooper was mid-motion, sidestepping as the guard ghoul swung wildly at him. His leather coats tattered edges dancing with his every movement, while his boots kicked up small splashes of mud.

With a practiced grace, Cooper pivoted and landed a swift, brutal punch to the ghoul’s face. The impact sent the guard staggering, and the cowboy seized the moment, grabbing the ghoul by the neck and snapping it with a sickening crack. In one fluid motion, The Ghoul bent down retrieving keys to the shackles. His expression was calm and focused as he tossed them to Max. 

The boy caught the keys, fumbling as he hurried to free himself.

 

Marcus’s gaze locked onto the metal shackle clamped around Cooper’s left wrist. A heavy chain dangled from the cuff, swaying slightly. At the end of that chain was a severed, lifeless hand—still bound in the matching shackle. It hung limply by Cooper’s leg, the pale, dead fingers swaying and gently tapping his calf.

 

Cooper smirked, lifting his free right hand and wiggling his fingers in a mocking wave toward Marcus, the smirk on his face daring him.

 

“Son of a bitch,” Marcus muttered in disbelief.

 

Marcus looked back at his people, who were frantically rushing to fight the fire. The flames licked dangerously close to the city’s wooden structures, threatening to consume Philly if they didn’t act fast. He turned back to Cooper, a hard line etched across his mouth. “You two better not come to Jacobstown,” he warned.

 

Cooper tilted his hat at Marcus with his free right hand, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “You better hope we don’t come to Jacobstown,” 

 

Marcus let out a low chuckle, his eyes never leaving Cooper as he slowly backed away. The sound was laced with a warning, a promise that this wasn’t over. He kept his gaze locked on Cooper, maintaining the illusion of control, before finally spinning around and sprinting to join his men.

 

Max hurried up to Cooper’s side, rubbing his sore wrist as he watched Marcus’s massive frame retreat into the chaos. “This is a good plan,” he said evenly.

 

Cooper turned to him and, unexpectedly, broke into a wide smile. The grin was striking, almost dazzling, even with his old teeth and ghoulified face. It caught Max off guard. It wasn’t just the rarity of the smile that stunned him; it was the way it fit Cooper’s features, as if he was the poster boy for smiling. 

 

Max blinked—

 

“Isn’t it?” Cooper replied, looking around in astonishment at the unfolding destruction around them. 

 

Together, they began dragging Hank’s unconscious body toward a nearby back alley exit.

 

---

 

Lucy sprinted across the rooftops, Her face pulled into a funny yelp every time her boots slipped on the slick, rain-soaked surface, her arms flailing briefly to keep her balance. She splashed through puddles collected along the rooftops.

Behind her, a furious, betrayed soldier was hot on her heels, his shouts echoing through the chaos, spurring her to push harder despite the sides of her ribs aching with every strained breath.

 

She gathered every ounce of strength and leapt across the gap between two crumbling buildings, the wind whipping against her as she soared. She landed hard, her boots skidding on the slick surface, but she managed to steady herself, her knees bending to absorb the impact. Behind her, the soldier attempted the same jump, but his boots slipped on the wet ledge. He teetered wildly, arms flailing in a desperate attempt to regain his balance. “Help me!” he cried out, panic twisting his voice.

 

Lucy skidded to a stop, her heart thundering in her chest as she took in the sunken, desperate features of the struggling ghoul soldier. Her expression twisted with conflict, her gaze lingering on his panicked eyes.  He’ll be okay —“I’m really sorry about this,” she murmured, stepping forward just enough to give him a small, decisive shove.

 

The soldier’s eyes widened in shock, and a terrified yelp escaped his lips as he plummeted into the unknown below. Lucy winced.

 

---

 

Outside the back of Philly, Dane and Thadious sat in the front of one of the stolen convoys. Max let out a relieved groan when he spotted his partner. Dropping his hold on the unconscious Hank, he rushed over to Dane, and the two pressed their foreheads together in a silent, heartfelt reunion.

 

Cooper moved to lean against the side of the truck, breathing heavily. “I’m gonna need some Goo,” he muttered, then flinched. Becasue of how uncool that sentence sounded.

 

Just as he caught his breath, he turned to see a sweaty, exhausted Lucy making her way toward them. His face lit up with a tired but genuine smile. “Hey—” he called, moving forward to meet her.

 

Lucy barely paused, throwing her arms around his neck as he pulled her in close. His arms wrapped around her lower back, holding her tight, and he buried his face in her neck. “Nice plan,” he said, his voice warm against her neck.

 

Lucy mumbled into his shoulder, “Thank you.”

 

They pulled back just enough to look at each other, and Lucy’s eyes were wide with worry. “Do you think Marcus is mad at me?”

 

Cooper glanced over his shoulder at the chaos: Marcus’s men running around, frantically trying to put out the fire and salvage what they could. He turned back to Lucy with a smirk. “People always hate their boss,” he replied. She offered a sheepish smile, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

 

Thadious appeared from around the side of the convoy, cradling his wrist. “Hey, you got my hand?” he asked, Cooper and Lucy broke apart as he untangled the severed hand from the metal brace. He tossed it back to the young ghoul, who caught it with a grateful nod.

 

“Thanks again,” Lucy said, her sincerity evident. “That was really useful.”

 

Thadious grinned, saluting them with his severed hand before securing it back to his wrist. “No problem. And hey, check it out—I scored a rad chicken!” He gestured to the back of the convoy.

 

Lucy and Cooper leaned in, curiosity giving way to wide-eyed amazement as they took in the scene before them. Supplies were piled high, a mix of salvaged goods and essentials that promised a small respite from the chaos. But it wasn’t the supplies that captured their attention.

 

Caged near the back was a familiar, scruffy face.

 

 Dogmeat’s ears perked up the instant she saw them, her tail thumping furiously against the metal bars. She scratched at the sides of the wire cage with eager paws, her barks echoing with uncontainable excitement. 

 

Lucy’s face broke into a beaming smile, her heart lifting at the sight. Cooper pursed his lips as he reached a hand through the bars, Dogmeat’s warm tongue licking at his fingers as she whined in delight. The sound flipped in his chest. "I'll bet damned" he muttered. 

 

Thadious raised an eyebrow, “Oh yeah—Do you guys remember this dog? I think it’s that doctors.”

 

---

 

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a golden glow across the wasteland, Lucy, Cooper, Dogmeat, Hank, Max, Thadious, and Dane moved in the fusion-powered vehicle. The engine purring, its hum resonating like a heartbeat of hope, as they left the chaos of Philly behind.

Dogmeat nestled happily between Lucy and Cooper, her tail wagging furiously as the wind whipped past, tousling Lucy’s hair and bringing an easy smile to Cooper’s face. Max and Thadious exchanged a fit of laughter over some shared joke, their voices mingling with the low rumble of the vehicle. Hank lay slumped in the back, unconscious but finally at peace, while Dane steered them forward with a determined smile. Ahead lay the path to Vault 33. 

 

---

 

Lucy’s chest swelled with anticipation as she spotted the entrance to Vault 33, its polished metal door gleaming under the pale glow of the night sky. The thought of stepping into her climate-controlled apartment, feeling the soothing warmth of her own shower, and sinking into the familiar comfort of her bed filled her with an almost overwhelming sense of longing. My bed! she thought, nearly breathless with excitement.

 

Her father, finally conscious, moved unsteadily beside her. He pointed out a hidden entrance he had once used to flee the ruins of Shady Sands, his hand trembling as he gestured. 

 

The group of Six—moved carefully into the concealed opening, Max, Dane, and Thaddius remained quiet as they entered the vault, though their excitement buzzed around them. Max struggled to hide his glee, having confessed earlier that he’d never quite gotten over the idea of living in a vault. Dane expressed hope for quiet and cool air. Thaddius, meanwhile, was under the impression there’d be a free buffet, and all three had been instructed to check in with Lucy as they adjusted to the new environment.

 

Their footsteps echoed against the metal grating underfoot, the cold, sterile atmosphere of the yellow-lit corridor enveloping them. Paint flecks peeled from the walls, and the stale air carried the scent of oil and machinery.

 

Without warning, a piercing wail shattered the stillness. Vault 31’s alarm system blared to life, red warning lights flashing angrily. Lucy’s heart leapt into her throat, the rush of panic jolting her senses. She exchanged wide-eyed glances with her companions, each of them tensing as the blaring noise reverberated through the vault’s depths.

 

The blue and yellow corridor burst into a frenzy of flashing red lights, casting wild, frantic shadows on the metal walls. Thick smoke began to pour from the vents, curling and twisting like an ominous fog snaking through the confined space. Instantly, five of them clapped hands over their mouths and noses, eyes watering as they tried to keep from choking on the acrid fumes.

The younger members of the group exchanged wide-eyed, panicked glances, their fear palpable in the flickering crimson light. Cooper, however, let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes with frustration. “What now?” he shouted over the blaring siren.

 

A deep, reverberating voice boomed through the thick, swirling haze, each word dripping with menacing authority. “You made a mistake entering my domain,” it declared, echoing through the corridor with an eerie, almost mechanical timbre. The smoke coiled tighter, veiling the source of the voice as Hank stumbled forward, a harsh cough wracking his sore, battered frame. His hand clutched at his ribs, and he squinted into the dense fog.

 

“Here I am, the game maker,” the voice continued, a tone of self-importance swelling in the murk. “No one who dares try to slip past my defenses into my home—”

 

“Buddy!” Hank croaked out, his voice rough and desperate, but the figure within the fog paid him no heed, the speech rolling onward, louder, more foreboding.

 

“Shall ever return to their own home!” the voice finished with a triumphant ring, relishing the fear it expected to instill.

 

“BUDDY!” Hank bellowed this time, his hoarse shout echoing through the corridor. He doubled over, breaking into a violent fit of coughs. Lucy’s brow furrowed, her eyes fixed on her father. Tears didn’t well in her eyes as she thought they might; instead, an unsettling numbness settled over her. She glanced over at Thadious, who looked just as blankly bewildered, while Max and Dane had started to sway unsteadily, their balance faltering in the thickening smoke.

 

A pause hung heavy in the air, the voice seeming to hesitate, as if processing the outburst. When it spoke again, it was softer, touched with a fragile hope. “Hank?” it called.

 

Hank rubbed at one of his watery eyes, straightening as much as his battered body would allow. A strained smile cracked his weary face. “Honey, I’m home!” he called out, The smoke seemed to part slightly, the voice’s hostility melting into something achingly familiar, a long-lost warmth bleeding through the haze.

 

“It is you!” the voice exclaimed. The alarm abruptly stopped and The vents above whirred to life, sucking the thick clouds of smoke back in with a loud, mechanical hiss. The crimson warning lights dimmed, replaced by the familiar, soft blue glow of the Vault corridor.

 

Lucy turned to Cooper, confusion etched deep into her features. Cooper tilted his head back, the name dawning on him slowly. “Oh” he murmured.

 

Lucy’s eyes widened as the last of the smoke cleared, revealing a small robot rolling down the corridor. It was about two feet tall, its squat black metallic body humming with a gentle whirring noise that accompanied each smooth glide forward. The robot’s most striking feature was a massive glass dome perched on top, inside which a human brain floated in clear, bubbling liquid. Thin wires crisscrossed the brain, connecting it to various parts of the robot’s internal workings, pulsing faintly with an eerie, rhythmic glow.

On the front of the machine, two bright white headlights shone, In between these lights, a small screen flickered to life, Each time it vocalized, a slight buzz accompanied the oscillating lines.

The robot’s movements were precise yet filled with a mechanical whimsy, its circuits clicking and whirring softly. Lucy’s stomach dropped, horror plain on her face as she took in the combination of human mind and machine.

 

“Oh my god,” she whispered, pressing a hand to her mouth, How could anyone do this to a person? Her thoughts churned with revulsion, and she jumped when Hank stepped in front of her, blocking her view.

 

Hank’s expression was hard. He glanced at Cooper, then at Lucy. “Not a single word about it,” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. Then he turned and dropped to his knees, meeting Bud at eye level.

 

The robot’s glass dome lit up as a green beam scanned Hank’s crouched form. “I’ve missed you!” Bud’s synthetic voice sounded, crackling with a burst of joy.

 

Hank’s swollen, battered face twisted into a pained but genuine smile. “I missed you too,” he replied, his voice thick. “I was taken by raiders. Lucy… Lucy came and rescued me.” He turned to give his daughter a tired, grateful look.

 

Her gaze darted to Cooper, who had been observing the unsettling scene with a growing grimace. When he met her eyes, his expression softened, and he reached down, wrapping his fingers around hers in a silent gesture of support. The warmth of his grip anchored her, but the questions swirling in her mind didn’t settle.

 

Cooper’s own questions churned differently. He’d heard whispers about Bud Askins' affair with Barb’s secretary. It had been the scandal of several Christmas parties. What concerned him — was the horror of what Bud had become.

 

Lucy’s eyes were wide with disbelief, her lips parted as she tried to process the bizarre scene before her. Her mind spun with unvoiced questions, but Bud’s calm voice cut through the storm.

 

“I know. Norm told me,” Bud said, his tone surprisingly serene.

 

At the mention of Norm, Lucy’s head snapped up, her heart skipping a beat.

 

Hank’s brow creased in confusion. “How did you speak to Norm?” he asked.

 

Bud’s voice stayed neutral. “After you left, Norm got a little nosy—he’s incredibly smart, just like you always said.”

 

A flicker of alarm crossed Hank’s face. “Buddy, is Norm okay?” he pressed. Norm had never been supposed to know any of this; His intelligence had made him a liability in the eyes of management, too sharp too perceptive.

 

“Of course, Hank. You know I’d never let anything happen to your kids,” Bud reassured him. 

 

Hank sighed, his tension easing. “I know, Bud. It was Betty I was worried about.”

 

“Me too,” Bud replied, a hint of relief in his robotic tone. “That’s why I made Norm get into your cryo pod.”

 

Hank let out a long breath, the weight of worry easing just a bit. “Thank god,” he murmured. As he stood up, Bud's wheels whirred, spinning backward in a quick retreat.

 

Lucy was stunned into silence. She’d never heard her father speak with such… tenderness. He had always shown care for her and Norm, but this was a different degree entirely. And for a… robot?

 

“Hey—uh, what’s with the brain?” Thaddius blurted out, his voice echoing loudly. Dane spun around, smacked him firmly in the chest, and held a finger to their lips.

 

Bud’s mechanical form pivoted, performing a wider room scan. “Oh, Hank, you’ve brought company,” he said evenly. His scanner let out a distinctive beep. “Ah, a Half Hank,” he added, before swiftly approaching Lucy. 

 

“Lucy, it’s so good to finally meet you! Are you still struggling with wetting the bed? My mom had a miracle cure when I was little—”

 

Hank interrupted, “The cure worked over twenty years ago, Buddy.”

 

A chirped laugh emitted from Bud’s voice box. “Oh, haha,” he replied, his form swiveling as though addressing an invisible audience. “Time does just slip through the fingers, doesn’t it?”

 

Lucy’s face flushed. She tossed a glance at Cooper, who smirked and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. She turned back to the little machine, “It’s nice to meet you,” she managed shakily as Bud seemed to know her on a personal level.

 

Bud’s scanners shifted to the ghoul beside Lucy. “Cooper Howard?” he said. Cooper shifted uncomfortably. For all his struggles with semi-immortality, life seemed determined to remind him he wasn’t as unlucky as he thought. “Bud, Bud Askins,” the robot continued.

 

Cooper had a sudden flashback to all the times he’d made Bud reintroduce himself over the years—a habit fueled by knowing Bud was partially responsible for the design flaws in the T-45 suits. “I remember ya,” Cooper replied softly. Not how he’d meant to say it, but this time, it was genuine. He really remembered who Bud was.

 

Bud’s scanner swung back to Hank. “Hank, can you believe it? He remembered me!” Hank smiled, giving Cooper a hesitant but grateful nod. “It’s about time, Bud,” he replied evenly.

 

Lucy turned to her dad, her voice trembling despite her effort to keep it steady. “Norm... he’s in a cryo-pod?”

 

---

 

Bud strolled them to the large room lined with row after row of cryopods. 

 

Cooper removed his hat, walking slowly down an aisle. Frozen face after frozen face passed him, each one tugging at his heart. Janey and Barb could have been sleeping peacefully for years. If Barb's awake now, then… He paused at an empty pod. The nameplate was unfamiliar. The next was the same—empty, another filled, then more empty.

 

He turned to see Hank approaching his own pod, Lucy at his side. Cooper continued down the aisle until he reached a large cluster of empty pods. “Why are so many empty?” he called out to Hank.

 

Hank looked up, his voice carrying evenly across the cavern. “Not everyone made it to the vault.”

 

Cooper huffed, muttering, “Don’t I know it.” He turned back to the front platform as Bud’s voice rang out,

 “Alright, all vitals look good. He’s ready to wake up.”

 

Cooper noticed the worry etched on Lucy’s face and strode past the others to stand beside her. The brothers eventually followed. A loud hiss filled the room as the pod door began to open. The group held their breath as Norman’s eyelids fluttered, the frost of years beginning to melt.

 

“Norm?” Lucy's voice was gentle, cutting through the haze clouding his mind.

Norman groaned, his throat dry, before a rough voice cracked through the silence. “Lucy?” He winced, his blurry eyes struggling to focus as pins and needles pricked through his limbs. Gradually, the fog lifted, and his vision cleared enough to see her. A soft, warmth unfurled in his chest,—steady, safe, and desperately needed.

 

He tried to lift a hand, yearning to reach for her, but his body remained sluggish and unresponsive. His gaze flickered to their father standing beside her, bruised and limping, then to the three unfamiliar, dirt-streaked faces watching him with cautious curiosity. Finally, his eyes landed on the hulking, monstrous figure stationed protectively at his sister’s left.

His brow furrowed as he swallowed dryly,  “I think I’ve missed a few chapters.”

---

 

 

Lucy and Max helped a struggling Norman toward the Vault 33 entrance, their footsteps echoing softly on the yellow-painted metal corridor walls. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, casting a sickly glow over the scene. The metal grating beneath their feet clanged with each step. 

 

Cooper grabbed Hank’s shoulder, spinning him around with just enough force to show he meant business, but not enough to draw attention from the rest of the group.

 

“Enough waiting,” Cooper demanded, his voice low and taut. “Tell me where Vault 96 is. Now.”

 

Hank winced as he staggered back, his sore, bruised body barely managing to stay upright. Deep purple bruises and angry red cuts marred his face, and he favored his right leg, a heavy limp making every step painful. He rolled his eyes, clearly exhausted. “Maybe later,” he said, gesturing weakly at the rest of the group. “After everyone’s had a chance to eat and shower—”

 

“Now,” Cooper repeated, shoving Hank's shoulder.

 

Hank’s gaze flickered to the retreating Five, who were trailed by the talkative brain jar, Bud, still prattling on about vault safety protocols. 

 

With a solemn gaze, He turned back to Cooper, his eyes shadowed with a weariness that went beyond physical pain.

 

“Thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three,” he said slowly. 

 

Cooper’s brow furrowed, “What—”

 

“Vaults 31, 32, and 33 make up Vault 96,” Hank revealed.

 

“You’re already here.”

Chapter 21: ...Finally

Notes:

I hope you enjoy! This chapter took ages to produce. It's not everything I wanted for the next chapter, but it's a start to actually getting this fic finished. I've known how it would end about 15 chapters ago, but with one life event after the other, I seemed to forget how to articulate myself. Please accept my submission for turning and exiting writer's block.

Cooper opened his eyes. 

31, 32, 33…

 

“Sound the alarm! Everyone move, move—I want guards armed and ready,” Betty ordered. 

At 81 years old, she moved with a determined gait, her cane tapping against the floor. Whoever was opening the vault door had overridden the access from the outside. 

All children and seniors—except Betty—had gone home to shelter in place.

 

Vault 96 is…here.

 

Betty stood behind a row of armed members. It had been three years since the vault door had been last opened. Both hands rested atop the cane as she held her head high.. The massive reinforced vault doors began to slowly groan open, revealing—her breath hitched.

The guards lowered their... well…guard when they saw Hank Maclean leading the way, followed closely by the rest of the MacLean family, three rough-looking ruffians, and a creature on all fours… 

 

They are…here…

 

“Betty!” said Hank, his voice demanding a swift command of the room. “You have no idea how good it is to see you.” 

She pushed through the line of vault dwellers, reaching the Elder MacLean. Her gaze trailed down in inspection, stopping at his cradled left arm. 

 

South of the santa monica fucking pier this whole goddamn—

 

Her expression softened in an instant, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get you to the infirmary,” she said, turning to the gathered. “Please escort Mr.MacLean and his guests… inside.”

Betty moved her attention back to the newcomers, her state stuttering as she caught sight of a piercing glare.

 

Norm Maclean was there, starring, hanging off his tired sister's side, being quietly guided past the senior overseer. 

Lucy, oblivious to her brother's grudge, gave her former teacher a small smile. 

 The dirty trio followed next, quick to stay in line, each individual politely nodding past the blanching woman.

 

 She turned back to Hank, brow furrowed. He responded with a sheepish, slightly exasperated expression. “A lot of discoveries out there,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Betty’s faint muttering followed him as he moved away. 

 

Cooper had remained in the hallway with Bud. 

 

The cowboy looked down at the Roomba precisely parked at the turn's edge. Lifting his boot, he slightly bumped the robot's end. “Ya ain't going in?” he asked.

 

The bot made whirling noises as it turned to scan its side. “Oh, Cooper! You're still here!” he said excitedly. The scan finished as the bot continued, “I’m not allowed in vaults 33 and 32,” he informed The Ghoul.

 

Cooper peeked his view past the corner, watching the crowd move without a second thought about who was left behind. 

Good, Cooper thought, turning swiftly. His boots clanged loudly with the brisk pace, while wheels could be heard following behind him. 

 

“Where are you going?” Bud asked. 

 

“Left something in the car. Gotta go grab it.” Cooper said tersely. Coming up with something, he felt the robot might be slow to question. 

 

“Oh yeah?” Bud responded lightly. “What are you driving these days? Me personally? Haven't driven in years, prefer to keep my feet on the ground, you know?” 

 

Cooper made a face, briefly turning over his shoulder to look at the former vault exec. “Eh yeah–” he said, unsure if Bud was oblivious to his plight or expressing a deep humor about the subject. “I uh… got a coupe—”

 

“Ha! Coop driving a Coupe that's funny—” the robot voice beamed. 

 

Cooper found the space the group of them had entered, stopping to look at the bot. “Hey, tell…tell Lucy I’m sorry,” he said. Looking back down the hallway, half expecting her to turn the corner and find him in the act. 

 

But Lucy didn’t appear. Because she was busy. With her own problems. With her own family. 

 

In his 200 years, the hope of finding his family had evolved.

First, he wanted to find Janey. 

Then, after 30 years, he assumed grandchildren might exist.

Then great-grandchildren, great-nieces, nephews, distant cousins, and all that. 

He’s searched, waited, and yearned to trace anything back to the life he had missed with his daughter. 

Needing to know she had one.

But that hope had died and been rebirthed when a young-ish Hank Maclean revealed himself. When Dr. Glension spoke of Barb like a present-day figure.

Because Janey could… must be alive. He just couldn't fathom Barb having it any other way. 

But Cooper was filled to the hat with daunting images. 

 

The thought of dealing with a crowd who’ve never seen someone like him, or even worse, people who have seen him, exactly him– Well, he just wasn’t in the mood to be an oddity as he is now.

 

And with Vault 96 just being some locked door away— Everyone here was fine , Lucy came from good stock, and everyone in her little abode was happy. He didn’t–shouldn’t break up that routine.

Their world. Her world.

 

Cooper turned to the ascending ladder, looking up at the dark tunnel. He leaned forward, the cold steel cooling his forehead as he took in a full breath of clean air. 

 

“Sorry for what?” He heard the bot ask.

 

Cooper paused, glancing at the Bud one last time.

He sighed, looking back up the exit.

 

“She’ll figure it out,” he grumbled and began climbing. 

 

---

 

“Again, I’m sorry to have given your family quarters away.” Betty laid her hand upon her breastbone, expressing her 16th apology. 

 

The family stood in a new apartment, one much smaller than the MacLean suite.

 

 

Lucy’s eyes scanned the lifeless den, clean walls void of her family history,

 

Hank bit the inside of his cheek, taking in a steady breath. He wanted to scream at Betty. 

 

Lucy stooped low to cradle Norm to the queen bed. He moved without hesitation, Cryo-Sickness forcing his body down like an anchor in water. His lids couldn’t keep open; the last thing he saw was a wave of blankets being brought up over his shoulder. 

 

Lucy stood with a quick smile toward Betty. “This will do for now,” she said. Her fists balled at her sides.

 

Betty looked down, eyelashes fluttering before breaking into a soft smile. Just for Lucy. “Dear, I’m afraid this is all we can give to you for the time being.” 

 

Hank smiled weakly, looking outside the open apartment door. Woody and Reg were entertaining the surface folk, thoroughly distracted. He whipped around speaking quickly and low, “She knows everything, Betty, and she’s looking to light fires. If you don’t cut this power move bull-shit right now, so help me, I will give her all the matches she needs–” 

 

“Hank!” Betty blanched. 

 

“He’s right.” Lucy crossed her arms, brows pinching together. “I want my family apartment back, and I want to pretend… at least for now; That nothing has changed.”

 

“What do you mean as if nothing–” Betty was cut short.

 

“What I mean is, I’m not looking to unravel any threads so long as we're clear you're not keeping any wool over my eyes–”

 

Hank snorted a quick dismissal. “Okay,” he held up a hand to Lucy, clearly not impressed with her oncoming speech.

 

Lucy swallowed a lump that was quick to form in the back of her throat. She was already nervous to confront Betty, and her Dad was certainly not helping. She looked around suddenly, only now aware of a missing supporting figure. Cooper?

 

Lucy looked through the front window. The brothers all stood arms crossed, listening intently to the other council members. Woody rubbed his sweaty hands together, stuttering through something. Reg nodded intently at Woody before giving a nervous chuckle. The brothers all shared a glance before emitting a chorus of laughter.

 

Lucy's brow furrowed. Where is Cooper? She stepped past Betty, closer to the entrance of the apartment. 

 

Betty stuttered as Lucy's retreating form, “Young Lady, you are forgetting your manners–”

 

Lucy held a dismissive wave without a glance back. She exited into the hallway, craning her neck down the length of the hallway. 

 

The boys all ceased their conversation at Lucy’s worried gaze. 

 

“Where’s Cooper?” she voiced. 

 

The Brothers twisted their own eyes around, seeking sight of The Ghoul. 

 

Max spoke first. “Oh uhhh…” 

 

Dane spoke next. “I thought he was in there with you guys.”

 

Reg and Woody looked like they also wanted to chime in, but Lucy moved too quickly to hear any further comments.

 

She felt her heart thumping loudly in her chest, a pitiful pool growing in her stomach. No no no…

 

Lucy had a terrible feeling— Why didn't he come in?—Why didn’t I notice? Dumb, stupid —

 

She reached the still-open vault door in record time, turning the corner and promptly tripping and grunting over a barely knee-high figure. 

 

Her fall was clumsy, hands shooting out, Metal meeting flesh in as quick as a heartbeat. Lucy turned to sit on her butt with a pained groan. Seated and defeated, her form was lit up with a blue light. 

 

“Oh, Lucy! Bud, Bud askins—”

 

“Buddy! Where did Cooper go?” She interrupted, in too much of a hurry to move through Bud's repeated dialogue. 

 

“He said he was sorry, but he left something in the car.”

 

Lucy’s brows furrowed. “Wha–” then something clicked. “Oh no–” she was up and off the ground in an instant, sprinting down the hall. “No, NO n–” 

 

Lucy climbed the ladder back to the outside in record time, her face beet-red as the wind and sun blinded her vision, she held her hand up, a makeshift visor to help scan the area. 

 

Her heart ached. 

 

Cooper and the convoy were gone. 

 

Chapter 22: Back to the Past

Notes:

Please enjoy!

 

Vault 33 has been in quite a stir since its sealing. 

 

Having to deal with a low population of civilians and a significantly lower population of management has left three executive assistants treading in murky waters. 

 

Betty sprinted into the apartment, narrowly missing Stephanie through the doorway. 

 

“WOah!” shouted the tall blonde, surprise springing her back a step. 

 

Hank Maclean looked up from his cereal bowl, watching his roommates find yet another way to get on each other's nerves.  

 

“Sorry, Steph–” Betty breathed, bending at the waist to meet her gym bag on the floor.  She had just finished her routine morning run and needed to make a quick change.

 

Stephanie sighed, her head cocking in a snide side to side motion. She held up her pipboy to the sweaty woman's face,  “We’re going to be late!” she scolded.  

 

Hank rolled his eyes, continuing to savor his breakfast. “Who cares,”  he droned with a mouth full, “We’re in charge.” 

 

Stephanie stomped her combat-booted foot. “We should care, because we’re in charge.” 

 

Betty stood up straight with a towel, foregoing the outfit change. “Alright! Well, let's go then. Come on.” The slightly shorter woman gently pushed the air towards the stiff blonde. A mimefull attempt to get her through the door. 

 

Hank brought the bowl to his mouth, loudly slurping his milk.

 

Stephanie fought back wild eyes, “You need a shower!” She exclaimed, forcing a surprised, gusted laugh from Betty. 

 

Hank’s diffusing chuckle could be heard from across the room as he wiped his mouth. “Steph,” He said, standing from the table. “We're operating in section 17 territory.” 

 

Both sets of frustrated eyes followed the man as he moved to the kitchen. 

 

“Rules dictate that we conserve all the water we can in this first year,” He said, briefly pausing to dispose of his bowl in the sink. “Aannnd…” he continued, “ Betty here has already showered today.” Hank was close to the athletically dressed woman now, his hand clapping fondly on her shoulder.

 

 Betty’s face twisted in a cheeky grin before losing Hank's attention to his reflection in the hallway mirror.

 

Stephanie moved swift—turning, disgusted at Betty. “Why in the world would you shower before your run?” 

 

Hank silently flexed, his smouldering gaze admiring his own biceps.

 

Betty watched him, “For relaxation,” she said dispassionately, her captious gaze taking in the self-regarding man as she wiped the back of her neck.  

 

Hank finished, turning away from the mirror. Betty broke her inspection, quickly tossing the towel back into the bag. 

 

The man was bringing the sleeves of his jumpsuit up, with a quick pass by both women. He was already out the apartment door, giving his zipper a finishing tug up, when he faced them again.

  

“Riiight,” He voiced, “ Relaxation, ” he tossed a wink at his co-pilots before slyly gliding away from sight. 

 

Betty laughed, moving to follow. “Wait up,” she shouted, quickly out of view from the scowling Barbie.

 

Stephanie remained frozen in an awed pout until she heard Hank's voice from down the hall. “You’re going to be late, Steph!”

 

The blonde bolted after her companions. 

 

---

 

“This is bullshit!” Hank shouted, hands smacking the table as he sat down. 

 

“Hank, stop it. It makes perfect sense.” Stephanie scolded.

 

Betty nodded in agreement, hands folding under her chin. “We’re low on females, all the other vaults are,” she simply stated. 

 

“So?” Hank shrugged, selfishly disinterested. 

 

“No one thinks you're cute ,” Stephanie seethed at Hank, careful not to draw attention to the other cafeteria inhabitants. 

 

Betty rubbed her eyes. “You guys are going to make me old, “ she groaned. 

 

Hank rolled his neck, looking around the lower-than-intended inhabitants of the vault.

 

 A certain number of women are needed to get this ball rolling, and they were most definitely lacking in that lot. 

 

Funny enough, most here were solo married men who weren't with their families when the bombs fell. 

 

Hank looked back at the women. “It's been 2 weeks. Everyone out there is poisoned goods by now.” 

 

Stephanie, still like a statue with cutlery, gracefully brought a poised fork to her mouth for a dainty bite. She swallowed with a shrug. “96 wants to start radiation exposure right away–”

 

“That's insane.” Hank gagged out.

 

Betty scoffed. “We’re not scientists, Hank, 96 says we can get them in by tomorrow night, and have some solid exposure for genetic integration and in time for reversal of the negative effects…”

 

“ Two Weeks! ” Hank snapped.

 

“ One Week, Four days.” Corrected Stephanie. 

 

“ Nearly two weeks!” Hank repeated with the same vigour. 

 

The women rolled their eyes in sync at the man's dramatics. 

 

---

 

In the morning, the trio will venture outside the vault 33 doors to accept those who have been long exposed to the chaos outside. 

 

The highest ranking in Vault 33 (by default) dressed robotically as they geared up for the outside. 

 

“Spoke to Adskins lately?” Betty inquired. She zipped up the final layer of her suit. Watching as Stephanie just about did the same. 

 

Hank tightened the final clasp of his left book, casting a deep glance into the room, eyes settling on nothing. “He says he’s doing better from the accident. That he’s just learning how to move around again.” He mumbled, thinking numbly about the ache of discovering the older man had been in an elevator accident. 

 

“He was in a coma for what? Five days? Does he have atrophy?” Stephanie asked, tying her hair back. 

 

“I think so,” Hank said, eyebrows quirked in a slight wonder. Buddy wasn’t eager to share how hurt he’d been, stating he didn't want to worry Hank. 

 

Betty laughed, “You're going to be insufferable when this year's quarantine is up, aren't you?” 

 

Stephanie disagreed, “No, he’s going to disappear for a month when the separations are over,” then she giggled, seeing Hank break into a smile. 

 

---

Rosa Vertez held her daughter tight. Her 75+ pounds pressed and forgotten against her chest.

She tried to shield her child from the souring air, though mostly in vain.

 

Vault 33 was only just 50 ft ahead. 

 

A simple chain link fence separated her and a crowd of possibly 200 from a group of armed guards.

 

They were wearing what she assumed to be radiation-safe suits. Something she and everyone else wish they had. Routinely, she’s seen the gun wielders switch out with people from the inside. She doubts any of these people have spent more than 6 hours outside at a time.

 

Rosa has counted fifteen blistering days in the new atmosphere. Poison has left her face permanently peeled, and her lungs scorched. Her whole body constantly ached, made worse by the effort of keeping Jasmine close. 

  

The sun was rising, the new morning glow doing nothing to conceal the destruction of crumbling structures nearby.

 

 They slept in groups in front of the doors, warmer, safer in numbers, and desperately prepared to be welcomed through the gates at any moment. They were starving, only breaking away to find food and water every 12 hours. 

 

A wash of dizziness swept her to the side. A quick jolt as Rosa caught herself, forcing her daughter to whimper awake. 

 

“Hey, someone’s coming.”

 

Rosa’s unfocused gaze adjusted with her sharp turn. Stomach clenching, she instinctively clutched Jasmine closer. 

 

A rad-suited figure walked their way, holding a clipboard…and a megaphone.

 

The crowd broke out with pleas and begging, as a new hope awakened.

 

Hank MacLean loosely lifted the amplifier. “Vault Tec is just as surprised as all of you, for this… sudden disaster—” His voice fell flat over the new noise. Eyes wandering, he smiled politely as he waited for the interrupting crowd to quit their desperate pleas.  

 

After a brief moment, everyone seemed to pick up on the man's relaxed posture. 

 

The crowd went silent. 

 

So Hank continued. 

 

“Due to the sudden nature of events, not every person meant to inhabit the vault has arrived. As a new day begins, the hope of having enough population to survive the years to come grows slimmer.”

 

Jasmine perked up, trying to lift her head. Rosa noticed the interest in peering at the man, but gently persuaded her daughter's head back down against her shoulder.

 

“The Goal is genetic viability. We're seeking those of a key demographic to be integrated into the vault.”

 

Hank looked through his visor, scanning the crowd with a downturned mouth. 

 

He raised the megaphone back to his mechanical mouth grate, “Please bring forward toddlers to 14 years.… First”

 

Rosa heard grumbles and cries as folks around began to pace, wondering if they’d hit a demographic, while others were hugging children, fidgeting with the child's presentability before pushing them forward.

 

Her forehead was wrinkled, deep in thought. Like moving in slow motion, watching from outside her body, she wielded Jasmine around, standing the girl on her own two feet. 

 

The ten-year-old flinched at the movement around her. Her rapidly blinking round eyes looked up at her mother. Her shoulders were drawn tight, surrounded by adults who were growing more aggravated by the minute. 

 

Rosa watched her fidget, her brown hair natted in a side braid.  She smiled, bittersweet memories of doing her daughter's hair in the morning. She moved closer to her daughter then, bringing her into her hold. Jasmine's arms wrapped around her mother, locked in a vice. Rosa's hand rested on her daughter's head, pushing the daughter to look up at her. 

 

When Jasmine's watery eyes could be seen, the movement brought a tear cascading down her dirty face. Rosa brushed her thumb along her cheek and spoke.

 

“You’re going to go; And you’re going to do what you’re told .” 

 

Jasmine broke eye contact, her lip lightly quivering. She wanted to question her mother, but she was at a loss for what questions to even ask.

 

The Mother set her jaw to continue. Not quite sure of how much time they’d be granted to speak. Her alert gaze looked to the front, watching children being escorted past the rows of guards.

 

“If you do that… they’ll be nice to you,” she said finally, nausea curdling as she fought her voice's desire to crack.  

 

 Rosa looked toward the sky, holding her breath as a gentle prayer escaped her chapped lips. 

 

The movement below brought her attention back to Jasmine's glossy chocolate eyes. A breeze came forward gently tousling the girl's bangs. Rosa imagined in an instant the whole life she could have ahead of her. 

 

Rose got low, fully embracing her daughter's frame. “I love you so much,” she mumbled into her daughter's hair. 

 

She heard a soft whimper come from Jasmine, but quickly ignored it. She stood up, pushing Jasmine away.

 

But her baby refused to let go. All her strength focused on keeping her fists in her mother's clothing.

 

“You have to go,” Rosa choked out. Her vocal cords felt swollen, as if she'd already been sobbing. 

 

“ No -not without you—” Jasmine cried as her mother successfully removed her hold.

 

Rosa moved forward using the bulk of her size to press her child through the crowd. 

 

“ Stopp –mamma please –” she sobbed, but her mother continued to move. 

 

Once Rosa had made it past the first row of people, she felt no time wasted in the removal of her child from her grasp. The man with the clipboard had stepped forward, assisting.

 

Hank had taken the child by her forearm, using enough strength to get the girl up and away. He was quick, eager to move, and avoid the hands of the rejected front row people.  

 

The girl pulled as hard as she could in the opposite direction to where they needed to be .

 

 Hank rolled his eyes, fighting a grimace. Decidingly, he looked down at the wailing girl.

 

I need to adjust my grip or something , he thought. He didn’t let go of the kid, as he stiffly moved   the clipboard tucked under his left arm—

 

“HEY!”

 

A clear voice cut through his attention from a distance. 

 

Hank turned, the weight of the girl finally going limp. He squinted his vision through his plastic protection helmet, finally meeting a ferocious glare.

 

Oh. The mother, he assumed. 

 

Rosa was hanging off the now-closed chain-link fence. Her fingers threaded through the holes, bringing her as close as possible. With every ounce of life she had left, she fueled her words, shouting to the man who held her daughter's fate.  

 

“Mark my words,”  Her voice was low yet still perceivable. 

 

“ Nothing bad–better happen to her! ” She finished with a resounding passion.

 

Hank was touched. Deeply. 

 

So deeply it barely registered on his face as he raised his left hand to loosely salute the mother.

 

 “Okie Dokie!” he shouted back, before returning to getting himself and the girl inside.

 

---

 

After the Children came childless women aged 16-35, Medical professionals of all ages, and then childless Men aged 16-35. 

 

Hank was exhausted, removing his shoes from the comfort of his apartment couch. Betty was already asleep, while Stephanie was reading silently in the corner. 

 

Hank was not having a good time in this apocalypse. 

 

He sighed, side-eyeing Stephanie. 

 

He was supposed to be sharing an apartment with Bud, a huge family suite. Not a tiny one-bedroom with bunk beds and two women.

 

Everything was going wrong. He knows Barb must be scrabbling to save face right now. He heard only 12 other Excecs made it to 96, including Bud and Robert House. 

 

Hanks wanted to tell Stephanie and Betty his assumption as to why ‘Vault Tec’ is suddenly interested in bringing in radioactive people. 

 

It must be because of Janey, He thought. 

 

He’d been surprised to hear from Bud that Janey was alive. She’d not been well when he last saw her, just before he’d been ushered to the wrong vault without seeing Bud. 

 

He wanted to tell his sister-seers that they're all test subjects now. That Janey probably needed never-before-seen medical Care, and Barb had 500+ people to play with. 

 

But he also felt it didn’t matter. At the end of the first year, after the population swap was all said and done. Hank and his roommates were going to be popsicles, along with Bud, Barb, and Janey.

 

Best case scenario, they have 200 years of well-tested radiation-proof breeding stock. Or worst case scenario, Him and Bud never wake up again. It’s a win-win in his eyes. 

 

And so Hank continued to keep Barb's secrets. 

 

---

 

It had been 2 months with the newly acquired population in a mass quarantine. 

 

Over 50 people lay on cots in an open infirmary room. A solid 23 people had since been re- released to the outside, showcasing how grateful the remaining 50 should be. 

 

Hank was speaking kindly to the room, passing out medicine and Vault-Tec information books for entertainment. 

 

Once he moved in front of the young Jasmine, he smiled. “Why are you pouting today? Wasn’t lunch your favorite? Hmm? Chocolate pudding?” He pressed.

Jasmine looked up with sorrowful eyes.  Not in the mood for the man's nudges. 

“It's my birthday today,” She said, head bent with grief. 

 

“Oh,” Hank said awkwardly. He looked around the room quickly, trying to see if anyone else wanted to step in on this. 

 

When no one else seemed readily available, he gave a begrudging sigh and sat beside her. 

 

He shifted around to the cot, trying to find a comfortable angle to sit by the saddened child. 

 

The radiation suit made it an odd image of them two together. Jasmine sniffed, wiping her snotty nose on the back of her hand. 

 

Hank watched and tried to keep his disgust at bay. “What did you have planned?” he asked simply. He’d never considered himself to be bad with children. After all, he’d been close to Janey since she was born. 

 

Jasmine looked up, her watery eyes beaming at the question. “My mom and I were going to see the Botanical Garden,” she said, a small hiccup finishing her sentence. 

 

“Ahh” was all Hank said. Knowing the place well. He took Bud on a disastrous date there once. The evening ended with Bud being stung by a bee and transported to the hospital. 

 

He looked at Jasmine again, who seemed too broken to add anything more to the conversation, and felt a semblance of pity. He was doing his best not to become attached. He was due for the freezer in several months, and what happened to Jasmine wasn’t something he had time to fret over. 

 

But her mother's cold stare had stayed with him. He knew with such little time spent with Jasmine that she was her mother's twin. Every time the girl looked at him, he was reminded of her mother's chilling tone. “Mark my words… ” Hank shook his head slightly, clearing the image. 

 

No, this guilt won't do. He can’t play favorites, but he wants– needs his conscience clear. 

 

“Wait here,” he said. For no reason, as Jasmine and the others like her were not even permitted to leave this very room. 

 

Hank exited the infirmary, jumping through all the radiation cleansing bells and whistles to return to his apartment. 

 

He opened his closet to pull out the briefcase that had been collecting dust since the fateful day of the bombs. 

 

He placed the tired leather satchel on the bed, opening it to peer inside. After years of watching Janey, the young assistant was thoroughly prepared at all times to entertain his young charge.

 

He sifted through the belongings until he found and retrieved his object of desire. 

 

Jasmine had moved on in her melancholy to stare blankly at a wall when Hank finally returned. He blocked her numb view, fully suited and possibly very sweaty, if his red face was any indicator. 

 

Hank breathed heavily, sitting back down beside the eleven-year-old. “Happy Birthday,” he said, handing Jasmine a used book. 

 

The title read “Color! Plant guide: Volume 2” 

 

Jamine's face lit up with the brightest grin Hank had ever seen on the girl. He was noticing for the first time that she had gaps where baby teeth used to be. 

 

“Really?” she asked. Looking around, hoping that no other children had seen it. 

 

Hank watched her searchful inspection of the rivalry in the room and nodded in understanding. He leaned close.

“Yes! You're a cool kid. Just keep it hidden, okay? I don’t know if this is vault approved.”

 

He wasn’t kidding. The oddest books had been banned from ever entering the vault library. 

 

“Thank you.” Said the girl, her voice soft and slow from awe. Shielded by her and Hank's bodies, she flipped through the pages in secret. 

 

Hank smiled. His conscience was clear. 

 

---

Hank walked into the overseer's office, greeted by a tight-lipped Stephanie from behind the computer. 

 

“Has he called yet?” he asked, plopping down in a guest chair. He was surprised to find Betty slumped into the cushions of the chair beside him. Her posture had completely concealed her presence when he entered. 

 

“It’s only just now 8,” sang Stephnie, clacking away at the keyboard. 

 

“He was supposed to call at 7:30,” Mumbled Betty. She was leaning heavily to the side, dozing comfortably against her fist. She’d been working all day, plenty of physical labor to help her sleep solid tonight….Once this phone call was over. 

 

Hank groaned, his head thrown back. A small thud is only heard by the man whose skull makes contact with the wooden accent edge. He grimaced, subtly rubbing the tender spot without much notice from his colleagues. 

 

Stephanie arched an eyebrow, though her eyes remained on her task. “They never call on time—I don’t know why either of you ever expect something different–”

 

“Because when 96 calls— Frantic— saying we need to be ready to speak to 97 for important information regarding our newest population, and then no one calls—”

 

“There's no need to raise your voice.” Stephanine interrupted, her eyes rolling as she continued her typing. 

 

Betty’s jaw tensed, biting her tongue. 

 

Hanks's eyes rolled skyward, deflating with a heavy sigh. “Stephanie, I beg of you ,” he spoke in all seriousness.

 

Stephanie kept her gaze down, but her fingers innately paid attention, ceasing the discordant clacking. 

 

“To get, fucked.” He finished in a hoarse whisper, his face contorting into that of genuine concern for her well-being.

 

Betty’s lips curled up, rounding her cheeks as she stifled a laugh. 

 

Stephanie had leaned forward with venom in her teeth, ready to cut Hank with her own biting remark about his sex life—

 

RRNNnGGG! 

 

All three heads snapped to the phone sitting on the desk. Stephanie's left hand reached for the handset just as both Hank and Betty shot from their seats to do the same. 

 

There was a brief struggle to remove the blonde's hand from the device, and then a curt tug-of-war between the standing pair before Betty won out, victoriously bringing the receiver to her ear. 

 

“Vault 33, this is Betty Pearson speaking,” she spoke professionally through the transmitter, ignoring the irritated glares thrown her way. 

 

Just then, Hank leaned close to get better sound from the receiver. Betty tilted the device to assist, right when a voice spoke up. 

 

“Uhh yeah, this is Abnor Glension. Are you the one I will speak to about the upcoming genetic tests?”

 

“Yes!” Betty answered quickly. 

 

Suddenly, with a quick press of a button, Glensions ' voice filled the room. Betty shot Stephanie with an irritated glare as she lowered the handset.

“Perfect, there are just a few guidelines for what Ms. Howard has requested–”

 

“Ah- and what are those requests?” asked Hank suddenly. There was silence on the other end as all 3 baby seers leaned forward, in anticipation.

 

“Miss Pearson, your voice has changed.”

 

Hank grimaced, his body tilting to the side. Bettys hand found his chest, the smack resonating through the room.

 

“This is Hank MacLean—”

 

“a–And Stephanie Harper!” The blonde eagerly chimed in.

 

“We are the three current ruling management for Vault 33—”

 

“God, you know I just don’t care.” Abnor's voice cut through Hank's scripted tone.

 

“Wha–” Stephanie tried but was also silenced by Abnor.

 

 “Vault 97 is freezing sooner than 96, and yourselves. So we’d like to give you this info before we cease contact until 2080.”

 

Hank's face soured as he shared glances with his associates. “Vault 96 approved that?” he asked.

 

“Nope, that's why we're doing this quickly. A small favor before our act of rebellion.” 

 

Stephanie's face fell, and so did her tone. “Should we be having this call?” she said in a hushed tone. Betty and Hank stared blankly, lost in the question. Vault 33 wasn’t going to rebel against 96 if they did something to assist a rogue—

 

“Yes, you should, I assume… Miss Harper ,” Abnor said, static clicking subtly behind his voice. 

 

“Please listen closely as I– Wha…?” Abnor's voice became far away. “What’s that? Uh–Ung huh, B—-bud, this–yeah this isn’t the time. Go find Mom. Go—THacck–Thud.” The line went fully silent before a winded Abnor returned to the speaker. “Sorry– That was my 4-year-old. He can’t stop talking about this goo—”

 

“Should we get back on track, Sir?” Stephanie interrupted. Hank knew, Stephaine detested hearing about people's kids. 

 

“Yeah, yeah—Okay, you might want to write this down,” Glension said.

 

All three reached for a pen.

 

---

 

Notes:

Kudos and comments are always appreciated!

Chapter 23: Blast from the Future

Notes:

Please enjoy!

 

  It's been another 2 days in the vault. Hank MacLean walked down the main apartment corridor, arms tucked neatly behind his back. Other vault dwellers pass him by with smiles and greetings as he flounces around the vault. It was great to be home.

 

Everything could–SHOULD be back to normal in a matter of months. 

 

Normal being warm meals and movie nights with his children, and sleeping easily because you know your kids are safe asleep in their beds.  

That's all Hank wanted— plus the ruling power of being overseer— He just missed the family time dammit!

 

The cherry on top? He’s already checked off the box— without having to do anything! 

 

Because Cooper… had left on his own. 

 

A gift from god, if I’ve ever seen one, thought Hank.

 

However, with the addition of ‘Cheer up Lucy’ , the timetable for the ‘Back to normal Check list’ remained the same.

 

 

The list is as follows:

 

 

• Get rid of Cooper

• Get Lucy’s forgiveness

• Cease Norms investigation

• Surface dwellers are mysteriously poisoned

• Betty dies of old age

• Be reinstated as Overseer   

• Cheer up Lucy

 

What could bring his daughter back to his good graces? 

 

This occupied the former overseer's mind as he stopped at his destination. 

 

His old apartment.

 

The one Betty claimed experienced a breach in its air filtration system, which left it uninhabitable. 

 

Buddy, thankfully, can look into claims like that.

 

Hank listened for any interrupting parties before quickly overriding the quarantine protocols for the apartment. 

 

Like he’d done for over 20 years, Hank entered the apartment and closed the door behind him. 

 

---

 

Norm MacLean had been trying to get his sister to speak to him— really , speak to him—for almost two days now. 

 

Shortly after ensuring the brothers' warm welcome, the fresh vault dweller has been cooped up in bed, either endlessly sleeping or in a somber thousand-yard stare. 

 

The youngest MacLean—in response— has woken up today, mission on mind.

 

He wanted to narrow down how to help his sister, and their Dad wasn’t being of any help. Granted — His Dad was also acting differently. Sure, the son has had problems with his father, but he always felt that when it came to his sister, ‘Dad’ knew what to do. But now? He said the best thing ‘she needed’ was alone time, which isn’t very Lucy… or Daddy to the rescue. 

 

 As Norm entered Vault 33’s common area, he could see the cornfield opening, where Lucy’s Brotherhood Friends were digging into breakfast. 

 

He approached slowly, wary, unfortunately, due to his life-threatening experience with the wedding crashers. 

 

It was Dane who noticed the tense MacLean first, sitting up straighter to signal Max that his attention was needed.

 

Max turned, his eyes finding Norm.

 

Norm stopped short, watching the hulking figure that was Max exit the bench–table growing twice his size. Couldn’t have just stayed sitting? He thought, all the while fighting a bitter twitch in his jaw. 

 

“Max–” Norm started, making an effort to unfurl the anxious fists at his sides. “I was wondering if you knew of anything that happened, for Lucy to be upset over?” he finished with a gentle lift of his chin, holding the taller man's gaze. 

 

“You mean besides her boyfriend ditching her?” Thaddius answered before Max, bits of crumbs from this morning's bread falling out of his mouth as he did so. 

 

Dane was quick with their reprimanding, delivering a small pinch to the sandy blonde's arm. 

 

“OW!”

 

The young MacLean would disagree if he felt the need to argue. The thing was, Lucy’s been emotionally and sexually active for a decade , though he doesn't doubt her love for this mysterious man he’s– hearing little about, he just doesn’t believe that would break her.

Max gave an apologetic smile on behalf of his brothers. “I don’t know,” he answered punctuating the statement with a shrug— “She was doing good out there–

 

Norm watched as the man's face contorted coyly, as if remembering something. 

 

The soldier began rubbing the back of his neck. He’d been around Thaddius long enough to know a thing or two about ghoul etiquette. What to say, what to say….

 

“It….. could , just be…” He lowered his arm back down— “The Ghoul thing.” He finished in a long breath. It was a sly reference to the Cowboy, and her altered state, all in one. Max himself smirked a little, mentally commending himself for such clever wordplay. 

 

Norm was still and silent for a beat longer than proper conversation called for, making the brothers squirm in an odd sense of unease from the vault dwellers' blank stare.

 

 “The Ghoul thing,” he said at last, surprising the three with the soldier's own words. He turned his attention to the two still seated, but surprisingly found himself hanging. Interesting… Thought Norm.

 

As if they’d sensed his inquiring eyes, both had hunched away, focused solely on the food in front of them. So— It was painfully obvious to Norm that there was something about what Max said. “What does that mean?” he coaxed.

 

Max blinked — “What does what mean?”

 

“The ghoul thing,” Norm clarified.

 

The taller boy’s brow furrowed as he frowned. He wasn’t prepared for that question. “Uh–what do you think it means?”

 

“I think it's a particular choice of words.” The young Maclean remarked.

 

Dane choked on their dry swallow of bread, prodding Thadius to reach around and pat the firebugs back. 

 

A grimace fell across Max's face at his partner's distress. 

 

Norm vibrated from an internal groan. The brothers have failed to give any real information. A deep sense of annoyance ran through the shorter man's body, rooting his feet further into the ground. 

 

“Was she hurt?” he insinuated with a crisp tone, casting a shrouding seriousness over Max's presence. 

 

Max perked back to Norm in quick concern. “No! I wouldn’t say she’s been hurt—” 

 

The former knight  was cut off and surprised by Thadious, deciding that it was a ‘good time’ to speak again– "Yeah, if anything, she’s the one putting hurt on others.”

 

Dane snorted through a gasp for life, nodding and tossing a quick thumbs up towards the young Maclean.                                                                                                                                                                                                      

Max smiled fondly at his brothers, turning rejuvenated back to Norm. “They’re right, Lucy is one hell of a survivor.”

 

Hell of a survivor, Norms's brow pinched together.

 

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever forget Lucy’s wedding— of the raiders that came into the vault. They were vicious. Every last one of them. For someone like Lucy to survive up there….

 

He nodded, looking anywhere but the tiro. “Okay,” he mumbled, beginning to back away. He was sure he understood now.

 

“Thank you, guys. This was helpful.” Norm gave them a small wave before fully exiting the conversation. Mumbling could be heard behind him, but he easily ignored it. 

 

He turned close to the entrance, running right into a wall of human flesh—

---

 

Hank walked with the book underneath his arm, warm smiles here and there as his community passed around him, he looked straight ahead, so close to the room that admires the Nebraska countryside. So glad the engineers were able to fix— “Oooff” Hank gasped out, feet stopping dead in his tracks, looking down at his equally surprised son. “Norman!” Hank said through a smile. 

 

Finding alone time with his son had been a challenge lately. After sharing a few conversations regarding Lucy, his son had made himself scarce. 

 

“Dad,” he cautioned with a slight lick of his lips. His tight fists uncurling as he quickly wiped his sweaty palms down his jumpsuit. He didn't have time this—

 

Unfortunately, both his father's ‘Hands’ moved to his upper arms. He mentally noted not to look down his right shoulder, at the lack thereof .

 

 His father had done this all his life. It was his cue to stand up straighter, and being perfectly trained, Norm did.

 

Max watched from a distance, cautiously studying the pair. When Lucy’s little brother's whole body tensed upward, he turned to his own brothers, gesturing with a quick snap of the neck— Let’s go …

 

Norm regained some of his composure with the knowledge that his Father may not have the guts to confront him in public. He stepped away—” I gotta go,” He confessed, comfortably ready to ignore all protests. 

 

Hank reached out with his right hand, stopping his son by the shoulder, “Norm, please,” he whimpered, desperately trying to connect with his son. “I want to talk–”

 

“What’s that?” Norm cut in, eyes zeroing in on the book tucked beneath his dad's left arm. 

 

Hank looked down. “Uhhh…” His jaw went slack in a quick swipe of thought before suddenly standing up straight. His face eased into a mask of authoritative confidence as he spoke, “It’s a gift for Lucy.” He explained, bringing his right hand up to protectively rest on the spine of the book. 

 

“The gift is a book?” Norm asked, curiosity blossoming. His head bobbed around his father's torso, inspecting what he could see of the cover. Though severely muted, the picture obviously once held numerous vibrant colors. Which is a rare type of book cover to find in the vault. Most books here were mass-produced by Vault-Tec. Despite many different authors, the library is filled with a spectrum of book cloth–arial titled books in colors of shades of tan. 

 

The edges were frayed. The book wasn’t kept in the library. Norm knew the climate-controlled room and diligent staff would never allow this rarity of a book to be kept so poor. It looks like it's been collecting dust for years. 

 

“Yes.” Hank finally responded, deflating, softly easing his frame towards his son. “It belonged to your Mother.” His voice was soft, an attempt to share the emotional news of such an item with Norm. 

 

Norman's eyes moved from the book to his father in a lethal look. 

 

The truth is , Norm never knew his mother. His earliest memory has always been of Lucy. So all he felt was rage, the lived of lava that fills your veins making you go rigid with disbelief— To believe …. That Norm of all people would be held prisoner to other people's memories while simultaneously withholding such a find from him. 

 

“Oh?” Norm bit out. “And I don’t get the honor of seeing it?” 

 

Hank deflated slightly, fighting the worst case of needing to roll one's eyes. Since when did my kids get so obstinate? He groaned internally— What did I do to deserve this? 

 

“Right, of course,” Hank grumbled, in a fitted display of giving up. “Norman—of course you deserve to see this as well, I just thought…” he trailed off, looking around before his jaw clicked, focusing him back on his son, “I just thought your sister would appreciate it more.” 

 

Norms' lips pursed—

 

“Please, Norman,” Hank thrust the book to his son, “Have a looksie.”

 

The smaller Maclean wasn’t a fan of how exactly his father gave up, but he’s noticed that since his return, he's more willing to do so. 

 

He fought a smirk, silently amused as he looked down at the crusty book. 

 

The book was heavier than it appeared, as if solid objects were being held inside. It was a coloring book, one dedicated to plants. 

 

Sporadic pages thickly stuck out, modified like a scrapbook. The decorated pages were dominant in weight, opening the book easily to one of them at random. 

 

Page 110.  “Holly”

 

The pages were affectionately decorated around the plant title, the outline of the flower itself beautifully colored. Lace and scraps of green items were stuck to the page in various fashions. At the very bottom was written a name. 

 

Born: Holly Sharp — April 30th, 2188 

Died: Holly Harp — July 7th, 2227

 

He turned to another page, similarly decorated in passion but different in style, Page 144. “Violet”  At the bottom, once again

 

Born: Violet Kent — June 8th, 2123

Died: Violet Parr — November 14th, 2158

 

Norm quickly moved through them all, not all were women, some names belonged to boys, but all held bits of journal entries, reflections of the children's lives on each page. The children themselves are writing on their pages, passing down wisdom from every daughter born. 

 

Norm looked up to his father. “Where did you get this?” He’d never seen this before, and he used to play in what was left of his mother's belongings. 

“Hmmm?” Hank leaned forward, facing his ear towards his son. “Oh,” he considered, quickly standing straight. “I ugh… found in our old apartment, in the vent—”

 

“Why were you in the vents?” Norm hunted, the book still poised open in his hands.

 

Hank lunged, stunning his son by grabbing the book. He stepped away, tucking it back under his arm, then fixing his fallen bangs. “I,” he huffed out in a diffusing laugh, “was checking to see if Betty lied about the radiation leak.” 

 

Norm bit the inside of his cheek. “Betty was lying,” he pointed out.

 

“Yes, I know Norman—” Hank gave a disinterested shrug, “Because I checked the vents...”

 

“I know because I asked Bud,” Norm stated, crossing his arms. 

 

A tight-lipped smile found the older MacLean's face. “I’m glad you two talk–”

 

“He told me that you asked him, too.” The young Maclean countered. 

 

His father was silent for a beat. “Did he,” he said. 

 

“Yup—” Norm reiterated, “So why were you in the vents again?”

 

“I confirmed with Bud after going into the vents,” Hank answered, a faint smile forming toward his son. 

 

“I thought you just came back from the vents?”, rebutted Norm with a sly cock of his head, a mock furrowed curiosity painting his features. 

 

Hank smiled brightly. Got him— He crossed his arms as he fondly gazed down at his son. “I never said, ‘I just came back from the vents’.”.

 

“Then why are you and the book covered in dust?” Norm reasoned, mirroring his father in stance and tone. The smirk he wore was stolen straight from his father's face, inch by inch, as Hank looked down at his dishelved jumpsuit. 

 

“Oh,” was all he could say in his shock, looking back at his son.

 

The book was suddenly ripped from behind, out of Hank's pit faster than he could turn around. 

 

The sturdy boy stood 3 feet away, his flanks covered by his brothers, both with their arms crossed, sternly staring at the angered Hank MacLean. 

 

Max held the book by one end, the item falling open as he inspected the insides. “What’s this? he asked, looking past the family heirloom to connect with Lucy's little brother. 

 

“A gift for Lucy,” Norm informed the surface dwellers, sharing a quick glare with his father. 

 

“Oh,” Max piped up, his brow furrowing with another look at the book. He looked back at Norm. “Need help delivering it?”

 

Hank's face fell, looking at the book, then at his son. 

 

Dane moved to block Hank’s reach as the Knight passed the gift to the Young MacLean.

 

Norm nodded at all three brothers in thanks. “Can you keep him from following me?” he asked the Musketeers. 

 

It was Dane who spoke, looking up and down Hank's 6ft slumped figure. “Oh yeah…” Their gaze turned to Norm with a sly grin. “ I think we can handle that.” 

 

Norman looked at his father, sending him a two-finger salute as goodbye.

 

Hank's mouth was in a tight line following his son's disappearing figure. He turned back to Max. “Listen, Maxwell—”

 

“Maximus.” The soldier corrected. Turning away from the vault dweller with disinterest. 

Dane stepped away, still observing his movements, as Hank muttered to himself. “Dammit.” 

---

 

Walking a brisk pace towards the apartment, his pulse rushed loudly in his ears.

 

 He wasn’t good at feelings; that was always his sister’s forte, and he was pretty sure he was about to stir up a heap of them. 

 

He swallowed the unfounded fear of her shouting at him. Cursing at him to go away, like he had with her in the past. Growing up, when Norm felt down, glued to his bed, Lucy would be there. She would glide past the defense of his overblown voice to care for him. No matter how long it took, no matter the hurtful things he hollered. She would be there when he needed her. 

 

He was sure to survive the surface, you have to be able to do, quote–unquote, Bad things , and that’s what he assumed was wrong with his sister.  Lucy did bad things. 

 

He could tell his sister that she logically did everything she needed to do to survive. He could sum it up easily with the doubt that she ever did anything more than what she believed to be the right and just thing to do. But… That line of thinking would be more beneficial for Norm. Not his bleeding heart sister. 

 

He reached the apartment door, releasing a deep breath. He punched in the code.

 

---

 

Lucy was awake; she had been for nearly 3 hours after leaving the bed to pee. She’d been lying there staring at the ceiling, thinking of…well, doing her hardest not to think of anything.

 

The beeping had been alarming, the Geiger counter alerting her to potent radiation in the room. 

 

She was confused at first, looking around, fearful of an exposure leak, only to look down and realize her it was sensing her dehydrated urine in the basin.

 

She swallowed the sour bile coating her mouth as her stomach twisted around nothing. She had forgotten. 

 

Numbly looking from her pillow, her eyes flick long across the room to where the vault-issued wrist gear sat discarded on the kitchen counter.  

 

For just a minute. She had forgotten. That she was different. 

 

She felt Dogmeat move and sigh in her sleep. The creature has been enjoying every soft surface it's been introduced to. Sleeping with Lucy, the majority of the time, and being taken off for bathroom breaks the other part of the time. 

 

She wonders why Cooper didn’t take Dogmeat with him. Why he didn’t take me… or the goo?

 

She rubbed her eyes under the hard weight of her palms. Don’t think about Cooper. 

 

Lucy had a lot on her mind, and the last one she wanted there was a man who couldn’t even say goodbye— leave fine! Do what you want, I don’t care—after everything- a humbling passing of words before leaving would have been nice. ‘I can be nice sweetheart…’ she blushed, remembering his gravelly voice, before and during…. STOP STOP STOP.

 

She thinks her dad had something to do with his departure, but with no current evidence or energy, she would rather not speak to her dad to question him. It didn’t make sense. Cooper’s never let her dad get to him before. What would have been the straw— Dogmeats head shot up scaring the bejeezus out of Lucy—

 

A familiar beep sounds as the apartment door slides open.  

 

She quickly ducks beneath the covers— she didn't want to speak to her Dad! He just kept checking on her, telling her everything was better this way —“Lucy?”   Norm? 

 

Norm watched the blanket slide over tousled hair, finding his sister's wide, tired eyes.

 

Her chest bloomed a flurry of emotions at her brother's unexpected appearance. 

 

“Can we talk?” he petitioned. His puppy dog eyes rival his family’s—a true MacLean superpower.

 

In an instant, she scooted back, granting him room on the bed. Dog meat shuffled too, looking between Lucy and the new addition to the room. 

 

Norm stepped forward, leaving the book on the kitchen counter in the process. He bent down, shuffling to remove his boots, before moving further forward. He gave a hesitant once-over on the creature beside his sister before crawling into bed. 

 

Lucy turned, one hand tangled in her hair as she sat up, her free hand rubbing at the sheets between them. She suddenly felt grateful for Norm's visit; talking about him would be a welcoming distraction. 

 

“What’s up?” Lucy snivelled. The walls of her throat grated against each other, forcing her to clear the grainy texture. 

 

Her downturned eyes were gently framed by purple bags. For someone who’d been sleeping in abundance, she looked terrible. “Are you okay?” he asked first. 

 

A sharp jab of pressure formed between her eyes, paired with a lump swelling in the back of her throat. A dam of emotion threatened to break from the smallest amount of attention to her feelings. She smiled softly, giving out a light, breathy chuckle to conceal a sob. “Um.” She paused, thinking of what could be said. Silently cursing Norm for being Norm.

 

Does she tell him about the men she killed in cold blood, and risk voicing the woe-is-me mentality she felt for the murders she committed? She wasn’t going to talk about Cooper, refusing to use any more bandwidth on that… that —Or should she tell him about her altered status, the scientific medical procedures she went through without her knowledge and consent? 

Would he jump out of bed, steer clear of her, like maybe he should? Her eyes began to fill with tears from the idea. 

 

She wanted to ask her dad if he would keep her ghoulish status hidden from the Vault, but she feared a callous response regarding his duty to report.

 

For all she knew, everyone already knew, including Norm . 

 

Norm watched her struggle to find words and decided to narrow down the question. “I was wondering if you were struggling to cope with things you did on the surface.”

 

The package of instant tears sprinkled over Lucy fully dazzled into existence—Hot, wet, and no doubt radioactive puddles forming in the sunken hollows of her eyes. Her chest was tight, her stomach curdling, constricting in disgust at herself. “I hurt people,” she whispered, her face crumpling.  Despair quivered her lips as her hand covered her mouth. She looked away from Norm, turning to lie on her back.

 

Norm scootched further down the bed into his sister's side.  “Tell me about it?” he prodded, gentle with his tone. 

 

He felt her body shake in another silent inhale/sob, patiently waiting to be an empathetic ear. 

“Uhh..” she shuddered, feeling Dogmeat re-adjust her spot to lay her head on Lucy's thigh. The vault dweller sniffed, thinking about which guilt has haunted her the most.

 

 “I shot two men while their backs were turned,” she finally confided with a pained hiccup of breath. Lifting her left hand to wipe at her increasingly wet and snotty face. 

 

“Effective,” Norm murmured.

 

 His candor elicited a surprised chuckle from Lucy, who immediately succumbed to more self-loathing and regret. “It’s not funny,” she scolded.

 

“I didn’t say it was.” Norm twisted sitting up similarly to how Lucy originally had been, his fingers raking through his styled hair. “I doubt you did it for fun either,” he added, gaining the turn of Lucy’s head in his direction. She studied her brother's face. She could see… logically, where this was going. But that's not the point—

 

“That’s not the point.” She griped. 

 

“What's the point, then?” he quizzed. 

 

“I–II hurt another person. I took the easy way out— Instead of looking for diplomacy—” she was interrupted.

 

“It doesn't sound like you've taken this easily,” Norm continued after feeling the weight of Lucy’s rolling eyes. “Did these guys hurt people?” 

 

“Yes, b–” she tried.

 

“Did lives get saved by what you did?” he asked.

 

“Norm–”

 

“I’m sorry, Lucy, but I’m not going to help you beat yourself up over this.” 

 

Lucy srunched up her face in annoyance, Cooper would have said something similar— Which is why she’d avoided speaking to him about it in the first place. Her tearful gaze returned to the ceiling, letting out a choked breath. “Why are you here?”

 

“I missed you, I want to make sure you're okay. And if you need to be snappy with me, then so be it.”

 

Lucy hid behind her hand, simmering in regret at her behavior towards her baby brother. She knew she would do the same exact thing if Norm needed her, and… I missed you too— “You’re such a butthead.” She squeaked from beneath her palm.

 

Norm bit back a smile, “ Can’t believe you would call me a butthead ”, he whispered. 

 

Lucy laughed, a small smile growing as she wiped away another string of tears with her thumb. 

 

Norm ate the silence a moment longer before continuing. “What else?” he asked.  

 

His sister sniffled and snuffed her now stuffy nose, in thought. “I ugh…I burned down a city.”

 

Norm's eyes nearly bulged from his head. Now that's a tougher spin. “How did you do that?” 

 

Lucy shrugged,” Well, I didn’t do it directly, but I’m pretty sure I contributed to it,” she said, looking past her animated hands to the vaulted steel ceiling. 

 

Norm rolled his eyes. “Sorry, I think you need to have struck the match to wear that badge.” 

 

Lucy’s mouth fell open with a gasp, turning to lightly smack her brother's shoulder.

 

“I'm revoking the guilt pass—” he joked. 

 

Lucy chuckled, her tears drying as she fully pushed Norm over.  

 

---

The Maclean children talked for hours about Lucy’s time on the surface (Most of it) and Norm's investigation after she left. They made connections to their upbringing and everything that's come to light, leaving Lucy feeling another level of shame for not believing her brother sooner. 

 

Norm, on the other hand, took his victory in silence, figuring Lucy felt terrible enough already. 

 

“When I saw the floating brain for the first time, I felt sick,” Norm whispered, in case Bud had some in-room surveillance.

 

Lucy nodded exaggeratedly, her shoulders slumped as she agreed with her brother. “I know! It was hard to think he was once a person. How could they do that——”

 

“How could someone do that to a person?” he exclaimed. 

 

Dogmeat had even warmed up to Norm, allowing the boy to test a few pets before he diverted his attention to his pib-boy games. 

 

Their conversation had comfortably fizzled with their pair's growing hunger. Lucy, for the first time in two days, actually felt like she could stomach a real vault meal. 

 

She was sitting crisscrossed in front of her brother, silently picking at her fingernails, when the sound of Norms' pipboy game went off in victory. Lucy looked up and then past her brother to her discarded bracelet. Thinking again of the noises it made. 

 

That's when her eyes settled on the flat object beside it. 

 

“What’s that?” she questioned, breaking their streak of silence.

 

Norm’s brown eyes peered up at his sister's voice, before turning in the direction that she was staring. “Oh, it's a gift from Dad.” He reported. 

 

Lucy rolled her eyes. “I don’t know if I want it,” she sighed. 

 

Norm shook his head lightly before rolling off the bed. “You’ll want it,” he said undoubtedly, walking to the counter in four strides.

 

Lucy briefly shuffled on the bed, watching her brother bring back a book that he quickly wiped free of remaining dust before handing it to her. 

 

She took it curiously, inspecting the title. “A coloring book?” She asked. Coloring books were not uncommon in the vault, but finding an empty one that hadn’t been filled out years ago was new. 

 

The book naturally opened once again, displaying an intricately decorated page. 

 

Page 50. “Aster”

 

Blues and Pinks adorned the page, similarly to the others, with found and crafted items. Journal entries surrounded the filled-in outline of the Aster plant, and at the Bottom read.

 

Born: Aster Harp — January 1st, 2206

Died: Aster Jones — July 19th, 2267

 

Lucy's forehead furrowed as she read around the page. It was a mix of childhood achievements to adult wisdom. “This was Mom's?” she marveled.

 

Norm nodded, staying quiet before calmly adding, “I think it's yours now.”

 

Lucy, unlike Norm, was reading every individual passage. Aster spoke of her wedding day, and then briefly of her pregnancy. Mentioning how she planned to name her daughter Daisy. 

 

“Daisy was our grandmother's name,” Lucy said, looking up at Norm, astounded. The MacLean children didn’t know much about their mother's side of the family. Chet was their only surviving family member from that side. Their grandmother, Daisy, had passed before Lucy was even born.

 

“Turn to page, ehhh 73,” he advised, moving his fingers to assist Lucy in the shuffling of the heavy pages. He knew it was toward the middle, having found it on his walk back to the apartment earlier. 

 

“Oh, there it is,” Lucy said, stopping their search at the correct page. The Title?

 

 “Rose,” she whispered. Her fingers gently tracking the simple font of the lettering, around it, were hand-drawn roses branched off the larger, outlined Rose. The design created a bushel of the flower filling the page, with tasteful horns living throughout the drawing, pointing to a handful of journal entries. 

 

Towards the Bottom, it read.

 

Born: Rose Colton November 29th, 2247

Died:

Lucy stared at the blank death date. 

 

What was left of her mother 6 –3 years ago couldn’t have been her death , with her mind gone, the body decayed, that wasn’t her mother. That's what dad left of her. 

 

Tears filled her eyes. When she was young, she discovered it was easier not to think of her mother. A missless existence was better than an unfulfilled longing. 

 

As she grew older, it’d become a natural talent of avoidance. After the observatory, Lucy easily fell back into the path of avoiding the major topic that was her mother. Now including… .

Her father's involvement!

 

She lifted her head and readressed her brother. “Can you–” she sniffled. “Can you get me a pen?”

 

Norm nodded once more, turning to quickly graze around the room. When his eyes found what he needed, he got up to retrieve the object. 

 

Lucy took the pen from her brother as he observed over her shoulder, and not for the first time in the history of this book, A daughter closed out her mother's page. 

 

Born: Rose Colton November 29th, 2247

Died: March 3rd, 2275

 

---

 

Norm had returned with a bundle of food from the cafeteria. Lucy was still hunched over the book, diligently studying the pages of every ancestor. 

 

“Poppy Kneedle was a Doctor in the Vault,” she informed her brother as he sat food on the dining table. “She worked on radiation immunity after her mom was exposed during her pregnancy.” 

 

Norm didn’t look up from his task, but contributed to the conversation. “I wonder how she was exposed.” His tone was sarcastic and entirely missed by his sister. 

 

“I don’t know,” she said absently, continuing her read without thinking of what her brother said.

 

Norm, bit back the urge to remind Lucy of— It doesn’t matter . 

 

“They didn’t go in order of the pages generationally, so I haven't found the first name yet.” She mentioned, turning the pages to the next nearest name. 

 

“Janey Howard,” Norm informed her, bringing his assembled plate of food to the microwave. 

 

Lucy's fingers froze on the page, looking up at her brother. “What?” she gasped, a sickly surprise covering her face. 

 

Three-toned buttons sounded before Norm hit start on the device, turning to then face his sister. 

 

Her shock was wildly misread by the boy. “Janey Howard is the first name in the book,” he said, pointing to the heirloom in Lucy's lap. 

 

“What?” she sputtered again, a frantic tone painting her words, “Wha– what page?” she blurted. 

 

“I don’t know–” Norm faltered, then walked forward. He grabbed part of the book, flipping to the very front. “But she signed it here.” He said with a point. Behind the front cover of the book was a place for ownership,

This Book belongs to: 

Janey Howard

 

It read, clearly written in a young child's script. Oh good, she thought. 

 

Relief flooded Lucy's veins as the brief momentary incestuous implication of her relationship with Cooper faded away. Dad took care of Janey, the book belonged to blah blah–Good, no more incest, I’m not a child anymore — another realization hit her.

 

Janey had been in Vault 33. 

 

---

 

It was dinner time when the MacLean children found their father sitting and joyfully enchanting the vault inhabitants with stories of his time on the surface. 

 

True to the Brother’s word, Hank had been right where Norm left him, under three pairs of watchful eyes in the ‘Nebraska countryside’. 

 

Dogmeat ran forward, disappearing into tall stalks of corn.

 

Lucy dropped the book hard onto the table, right in front of her father.

 

Hank looked at the book and then back at his audience before speaking. “Will you all excuse me, I think I’m about to be yelled at.”

 

Polite and sympathetic looks followed as the crowd dispersed; Not too far, as gossip was a favorite pastime in the vault. The brothers who were still seated at their common table also perked up with concealed interest. 

 

“What did you tell Cooper?” Lucy demanded.

 

Hank looked from his daughter back to the book. He was a little shocked by her choice of topic. 

He smiled. “I see Norm delivered the package for me, I found it if you can believe it—”

 

“I don't,” she cut him off, still waiting for her answer. 

 

“Right.” Her dad said, looking away in annoyance. He drummed his fingers on the tabletop before giving an exaggerated sigh. “What’s this about Cooper?” He turned back to address her. “You receive a gift regarding your mother, and all you can think about is some guy? Honestly, Lucy—”

 

Lucy groaned, leaning forward to open the book. One flip of the cover and she aggressively pointed at the owner's name. 

 

“Janey Howard,” She started—” Janey was in vault 33. But you sent Cooper to… to God knows where! Looking for Vault 96. 

 

Norm, who’d been silently observing with amusement, dialed in on the mention of a Vault 96. 

 

Hank's eyebrows raised in surprise as he learn forward to read his former charge's name. “Huh,” he uttered. He’d never noticed that before. Still in position, he flicked his gaze back to his daughter as her question hung in the air. Only then did he notice Norman standing a few feet away. 

 

The elder MacLean leaned back with a shrug. “I assure you, I didn’t,” he promised easily. 

 

Lucy was losing her patience. It was surprising, honestly, that she had any left when it came to her father. Beginning to pace with a disbelieving shake of her head, Norm stepped in. 

 

“Then what did you say?” he asked.

 

Hank's mouth briefly fell open in thought. “Uhh, well, l I did tell him where Vault 96 was…But I don’t believe that's where he headed.”

 

“And why not?” Lucy demanded. 

 

He was quiet before giving his children another aggravating shrug. “I don’t know what was going through his head, Lucy.”

 

“Is it here?” Norm theorized.

 

Lucy looked over her shoulder, confusion clouding her features. 

 

Hank, for the first time, sputtered slightly. “I’m sorry, what was that, Norman?”

 

“Is Vault 96 here?” Norm asked again. This was his first time hearing about the mystery vault, but in school, he remembered that their vault was unique in its structure. Soooo…

 

His father gave one of his diffusing ‘ I’m clearly lying’ laughs. “What are you talking about—”

 

“It is, isn’t it?” Norm said with a sly smile for having figured it out. “31+32+33 is 96.” The youngest MacLean looked to his sister, whose eyes were downcast as she did the mental math. 

 

Hank wasn’t given time to respond before Lucy was turning back in fury, “OH MY GOD.” 

 

Norm watched as his father moved in defence. 

 

“Calm down,” Hank directed, leaving his seated position to strategically place the table between him and his advancing daughter.

 

In the distance, the brothers were startled by Woody coming up behind them and whispering, “Would you guys like popcorn?”  Lightly lifting three little paper bags stained with grease. Max took a bag with his brow furrowed. “What’s popcorn?” he whispered, 

While Dane and Thadious graciously went for the new food. 

“What is wrong with you?” Lucy shouted, running around the table, only to have her father dodge and weave in the opposite direction at her every attempt. 

 

“I had to make sure he got us both to the vault in one piece–” Hank tried to explain.

 

Lucy stopped chasing him. “You mean you! You needed to get back in one piece!” 

 

“Uh,” Hank enunciated in exaggeration, “If you were referring to me, I didn’t come back in one piece.” he raised his handless arm, waving it around. “So—”

 

“You weren’t the only one who lost something!” Lucy lashed loudly, leaning over the length of the table. 

 

Norm cocked his head to the side. 

 

The Eldest MacLeans' face fell. “Lucy, did you see the Doctor?” he was leaning over the table now, too, close for only her to hear—

 

“Why does Lucy need to go to the Doctor?” Norms voice felt like a cold bucket of water down her back. She could taste blood. This isn’t the time. 

 

Lucy shook her head. She needed to redirect—

 

She turned her head to look at Norm. He was still off to the side, giving the older MacLeans space. She saw herself.

 

 She’d been where Norm stood and him vice versa. Always wondered why Norm never walked away on his own, that despite fight after fight, Norm never gave up arguing with their Dad. 

 

Norm was more like their father than he’d care to admit, silently craving the win just as much as their Dad. 

 

Lucy didn’t care about winning. 

 

She stood up straight, squinting past Norm, her brow furrowed at the distance audience all around now pretending to look anywhere but at the show. She rolled her eyes.

 

“Come on,” she rasped. Her attention fell back to the youngest MacLean. “It’s pointless speaking to him.”

 

Hank looked pained as both his children turned without another glance his way and left the common room. 

 

---

 

“I don’t get it,” Norm said, working to keep up with his sister's quick strides down the steel corridor. 

 

“Get what?” Lucy asked, hoping it wasn't about the doctor's comment. She stomped forward with a determination to find answers. If everyone was going to lie to her, she'll just go straight to the top.

 

The two took a left and continued their march, as Norm continued, “If your guy needed to get to vault 96, why would he leave the vault.

 

Phew. The shake of Lucy's head was barely visible from the back, given the bouncy volume of her clean hair. “I don’t know,” she said. Now she really didn't understand him. If he knew Janey was here, why would he leave? 

 

It was silent for a few, except for the rattling of the grates beneath their beating boots. They took another turn when Norm spoke again, “Are you going to go after him?”  he quired. His voice had a softer crack to it than he intended, but if he was being honest, he didn’t want her to leave again. He was enjoying the change of routine down here, the disruption, the new back and forth with his dad. He was excited to tear down Vault-Tec with Lucy because Lucy can do anything she sets her mind to.

 

Lucy stopped to turn to Norm with something of pity. She could tell he was asking her not to leave again. “No,” she said, hushed just between them. She stepped forward once to gently take him in her arms. 

 

Norm folded in beneath his sister. His head was turned as he spoke, partially smothered in her hold. “Why not?” he couldn’t help himself. Pleased? Yes— Curious? Always—

 

Lucy smiled while her head rested on his head. “Hmmm,” She wondered how to explain what she was feeling. She wouldn’t describe herself as angry with Cooper, just hurt. She thinks whatever he’s going through couldn’t have much to do with her; otherwise, she’d be in on it. 

 

Lucy moved her arms to gently stroke Norm's biceps as she moved him away. When his eyes lifted to meet hers, she shrugged lightly. “I don’t know where he is, but…” She looked down, dropping her hands back to her sides. “He knows where I am,” she finished.

Lucy lightly nodded at her statement while turning back around to finish her walk. 

 

She heard Norm catch up with a few echoy clangs beneath his feet. He stepped up beside her, fully matching her pace. “So if you’re not worried about him…why do you want into vault 96?” he questioned. 

 

Lucy was deadpan as her mood soured in a different direction. “Because I have my own bone to pick with Barbra Howard.”

---

Betty was in the overseer's office moments away from being bombarded by what she’s beginning to understand is a serious problem.

 

“Betty, where is the entrance to Vault 96?” 

 

The overseer looked just over her bifocals to see the MacLean children walking in like they own the place. Courtesy of Hank, she thought with a bitter sigh. Lucy had the unbearable persistence of her father, while Norman had the intelligence without the charm. 

 

Arguing with anyone whose last name was MacLean would take years off your life. 

 

She swiped off her glasses to address them. “That's classified information,” she disclosed.

 

The older woman watched in distaste as the young lady before her crossed her arms in an attempt of authority. “Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” she pressed.

 

Betty leaned back in her chair. “I’ll ask the same of you.” 

 

Lucy pursed her lips. For the first time since his bitter departure, she wished Cooper were here. She was sure Betty would be less confident with a visually undead cowboy backing her up. 

 

“Oh, come now, Betty.” Hank MacLean strolled in behind his children, sparking the older woman to sit up straighter. The problem is growing…

 

Lucy turned to her father, shoulders deflating. “We don’t want your help–”

 

Betty wobbled up from her seat, heading to the door to show her guests out. 

 

“You’ll need my help, sweetie, whether you like it out not–”

 

“Well, I don’t like it!” Lucy huffed with a stiff stomp of her boot. 

“That's what I said !” Exploded Hank.

 

The old woman shook her head. “So goddam annoying—” She was mumbling under her breath—almost free to just leave herself and leave the bickering behind, when the– conniving little — Young man stepped around his family, blocking her path. “How would you feel if we told everyone, everything we know, and they all demanded answers instead?”

 

Norm felt a sharp stinging swipe across his face. The pain lasted longer than the echo of the slap. The room was silent as the youngest Maclean lifted a hand to tenderly touch his jaw and painfully playing with it. 

 

Betty looked at the two deer in headlights on her left. “I’ve had enough of this, Hank. You know what must be done if you don’t get them in line.” 

 

Hank shook his head to try to keep himself from screaming at the woman, “I really think we can get away with a lot more than you realise. Buddy—”

 

“Oh, hush about BUD! I don’t want to hear it anymore!” Betty through up her hands. It had been quite a few years of ‘ Bud this ,’ and ‘ Buddy that, ’ for Betty.

 

“I believe in the vision of Vault Tec. The same vision we were both willing to die for!” She roared.

 

“You mean kill for?” Norm asked. He was ready for her to hit him again. He was vindicated in the 3 seconds it took for her to raise her hand primed for contact. He couldn’t help the flinch of preparation. His face moving to the side, eyes closed and—

 

Nothing happened, no contact, no sound of palm to skin—kinetic energy.  He peeked open one eye to see a large hand tightly gripping the frail wrist of a furious overseer.

 

Hank glowered with a harsh thrust of Betty’s arm down and away. “Once was too much,” he warned. 

 

Betty scowled, lifting her aching wrist. She rubbed at it while backing away. Her tense jaw moved back and forth as she avoided looking at the three of them. “I’m not as strong as I once was. Rude of you to remind me of that.” 

 

Lucy leaned forward, mouth open and prepared with sympathy, but the older woman continued.

 

“Three against one is hardly fair,” Betty cringed, walking around the desk.

Hank and Norm rolled their eyes at the same time while Lucy watched Betty curiously pick up the phone receiver. 

 

Brows furrowed together, Lucy finally found her voice. “Who are you calling?”

 

Holding the phone between her neck and ear, Betty arched a grey brow toward the MacLeans as her boney finger shookly dialed two numbers. “Help,” she announced. 

---

 

Betty and the Macleans stood outside the entrance to vault 32 awaiting the large door to finish its slow, dramatics. Behind them stood the Brothers with a small gathering of interested 33 inhabitants. 

 

Lucy looked down at Dogmeat just in time to catch her worried glance and whine at the interesting sounds. Her hand found and gently weaved through her fur. A small comfort for both of them. 

 

The halfway point of opening the door finally came, revealing the slender and poised as ever Stephanie Harper, her sweet smile was the same since Lucy last saw, the blue eye patch perfectly angled on her long face, the gold locks still silently an obsession of Lucy’s.

 

“Lucy,” Stephanie squealed, in what Norm told his sister to expect. Fake cheer.

 

The door opened another 3 feet, revealing Chet holding an infant in his right arm while tethered to a toddler's hand on his left. He broke into a huge grin. “Lucy!” he said. 

 

Lucy fought a smile. Betty’s grown the wrong team .

Chapter 24: Trigger Warning

Summary:

Trigger Warning
Subject: Suicide

Notes:

Hi, hope everyone is well. I've posted a trigger warning for anyone who dislikes or prefers to steer away from mention of suicide. If you'd like you can skip this chapter, heading to the end of the chapter for important notes that will keep you informed for later chapters!

Please enjoy!

The rough wall bit into Cooper's lower back as he twisted, letting the pressure rest on a tender knot. 

 

A warm evening breeze drifted through the window to gently caress his cheek, his eyes falling shut as he slowly inhaled—

 

This is nice…

 

The sun was setting, as it liked to do, painting everything in the world with an orange blush. 

 

He moved again. 

 

Causing the sand to shift beneath him, naturally contouring his more outstretched position on the red rocket floor.

 

He rested his head back, releasing a breathy sigh.

 

 Atop his hat was his left hand, lying to his side, while his right hand gripped his pistol, seated in his lap. 

 

He only had one bullet left. 

 

His right hand removed itself to grip the handle of Rad-Brew he had purchased. The liquid swished loudly in the silence of the room as he wetted his pouty lips. 

 

He swallows a large gulp, forcing a grimacing twist of his head to ease the liquid down. 

 

Not as good as the wedding, but….

 

He’d first taken the convoy to Philly, wanting some booze and a hot meal. Trading bullets and even using some to fulfill that wish–list.

 

Which is how he found himself here, with a full belly and buzzed head. What more could a guy ask for?

 

Another breeze drifted on by, lightly dusting Cooper in a layer of sand. He looked down at the gun and then at his hat. 

 

He lifted the cherished accessory, flipping it in an instant to showcase the interior lining. His trigger finger fluttered over the faded inked name.

 

Janey.

 

He wondered what she looked like now, if she was still young, or had she grown old? 

 

Would her hat fit her head now? He wondered silently before a regretful twist stabbed at his insides. It doesn't matter now—

 

His breathing stuttered over a shallow breath, forcing him to gasp and grasp around the hollow ache that lived in his chest, a fit of coughs following their way up his gated throat. 

 

He left all the Goo with Lucy. 

 

She would need it.

 

A sudden rumbling shook the walls of his shelter, as the wind brought in an annoying scent. 

 

“Fuck.” Cooper growled, lifting his arm to wetly cough into his elbow. He snapped his head back, scraping his scalp hard against the wall.

 

All he could do was wait. He only had one bullet for fucks sake. 

 

He lifted his bottle, inspecting the liquid. He’d been aiming to finish this off before…

 

The sounds of vehicles stopped in a short sequence, and mumbled voices surrounded him and his shelter. 

 

There's gotta be at least eight out there , he thought with another bitter sip of his beverage. 

 

With his eyes closed, he listened to maybe 5 minutes of quiet conversations before finally hearing the building's creaky door. He sighed at the sound of heavy boots echoing closer, crunching on rubble before queiting on the sandy floor. 

 

When the smell grew louder in its potency, Cooper peeked one eye open. 

 

Marcus stood in the doorway— Alone — his broad wingspan gripped the frame as he stared at the ghoul on the ground. 

 

Eyes fully open, Cooper took another eager swig of his drink and spoke. “I sure hope you're not here to kill me,” he said with a swallow.

 

“Why’s that?” Marcus asked, stepping further into the room, eyes understandably on the gun in Cooper's lap. 

 

“'Cause I was gonna do it, and it'd be pretty rude to take that away from me,” Cooper said with a shrug. 

 

An annoying amount of sympathy painted the mutant's face before he nodded. “Okay,” he walked closer to The Ghoul. “I won’t kill you then.” Marcus finished, moving down to find a seat. 

 

Cooper's lips pursed as he gave a nod of thanks in the mutant's direction. He lifted the bottle in offering, but Marcus humbly passed with a shake of his hand. “No thanks. I don’t drink,” he said. 

 

Cooper felt a sharp sting run jagged through his chest.

 

Ignoring it, he smirked over the mouth of the bottle. “Course you don’t.”

 

“Wanna tell me what's on your mind?” Marcus asked. 

 

“Not really,” he with a shake of his head, readdressing his gun with interest. He’d taken all the necessary steps to have this moment alone, and Marcus was ruining it. “I'd prefer if you left, actually,” he said, looking up at the Mutant.

 

Marcus just stared at him, making no attempt to leave.

 

The ghoul rolled his eyes, looking away. “How’d you find me anyway?” he spoke through a small slur, the bottle catching up with him.

 

Marcus smiled, “We were on our way to Vault 33 when one of my scouts spotted our missing convoy.” 

 

Cooper scoffed. “I shoulda caught that damn thing on fire.” 

 

“I’m glad you didn't.” Marcus laughed, “Cars don’t grow on trees.”

 

Cooper smirked in agreement and took another, longer drink— Gonna have to speed this up now—

 

Marcus's large hands were clasped in front of him as he surveyed the empty room.

 

 “Did something happen to Lucy?” he asked, noting her absence with a slight worry. 

 

Cooper rolled his eyes. “She’s fine.” Maybe angry—, he looked down at their finger picking dirt from under the dainty nail, “She’s home,” he clarified. 

 

He knows leaving her without even a goodbye was wrong, but—

 

When have I ever done the right thing?

 

Marcus lightly nodded, looking away with pursed lips. “Why aren’t you with her?” 

 

Cooper glowered at Marcus. 

 

He didn’t want to talk about it, cue him leaving the one person he indulged speaking to about anything.  

 

When The Ghoul didn’t immediately respond, Marcus relaxed backwards, his arms stretching behind to prop himself up. His two nubby eyebrows shot skyward. “Wow, it’s cause she dumped you?” 

 

Cooper's neck snapped back in the direction of the larger man—“ You think’m ‘bout to bite the bullet ‘cause a girl left me?” 

 

Marcus wiggled his nubs. “Yeah,” he said with a shrug and smile. 

 

“No ,”  

 

“Then why else would you do it?” The mutant's large hand moved out into the open space, palm up in complete confusion.

 

“'Cause maybe I’m fuckin’ tired, ya ever think of that.” The Ghoul’s jaw clenched. People do this alone for a reason.

 

“Oh, tired. Right.” Marcus looked away. “Makes sense,” he said with a blank tone. 

 

Cooper rolled his shoulders with a lift of the bottle, refusing to look at the Mutant. “Whatever, can ya go, take the damn car–” He leaned back to chug—

 

Marcus was quick with his cut-off, using an easy, even tone. “It’s not the car I’m worried about—” 

 

The cowboy lost the ability to swallow as a heated flush grimaced along his face. “ Shud-uhpp —” he choked out—

 

“Why would ‘ you’ leave Lucy?” wondered Marcus, unfazed by the gagging ghoul. In his eyes, there was a clear prize in this relationship, and it wasn’t the raisin.  

 

The Ghouls' browline furrowed down– “Who says I left?” He spoke with one last wheeze, wearily wiping his wounded scowl.—Fuck—He felt dizzy.

 

Marcus rolled his eyes, growing louder, “YOU! Just now— Ya idiot, what are you doing?—You left her alone with nothing but smoothies?”

 

 The Mutant wanted diplomacy with humans, but rightly still refused to trust them fully. Lucy, being alone, was dangerous. And Marcus expected ‘The Ghoul’ to know that. 

 

Cooper developed a worried wrinkle across his forehead. “ There's a young-blood there, ” he mumbled.

 

Marcus sagged. Fresh young males were reckless and often hunted. “Even worse. They’ll turn on her faster—” 

 

“They're not gonna do that.” Cooper rejected.

 

“How do you know?” Said the settlement leader.

 

Cooper bit the inside of his cheek as he stared down the Mutant. The sun was almost fully down, and it communicated through the gentler breeze wafting through the boarded window cracks. 

 

Lucy’s people are like her— He thinks.

 

“They’re good people–” Cooper croaked. 

 

“Then why on earth would you leave?”

 

“What am I gonna do, play house?” The ghoul shouted. 

 

He wasn’t going to be lectured. He got that soft life in the simulation— when there was no expectation, no looming threat. But outside is different; he’ll always need the vials, and he hated what he was willing to do for vials.

 

“Why not?” the pigheaded mutant taunted. 

 

“ ‘Cause I don’t belong there ,”

 

 Even when he was bright-eyed and energetic, he didn’t want to be in a vault. Even when his whole family depended on it— 

 “I never did,” he said, more solemnly than before.

 

The mutant regarded him with a careful eye, “Well then,” he leaned casually against his own pile of rubble, “Where do you belong—”  

 

“Fucking nowhere—” Cooper’s left hand jutted out, gesturing at an empty room, but referencing something grander. “I ain’t ever—”

 

“Whose fault is that?” Marcus said, matching the shifted energy of the room. “I’m sure Lucy would have preferred you to stay,” he pointed out. 

 

Cooper rolled his eyes under his exhausted hand as he wiped away sweat. “Aren’t you tired–” 

 

“Tired of what?” the larger man responded with a shrug. Selfishly dismissing the whole idea.

 

“You’ honestly sayin’ you can go another hundred years?” Asked the Ghoul.

 

He knew Marcus wanted a utopia for Ghouls and Mutants, but how many do you lose before you give up?

 

“Oh yeah, definitely,”

 

Cooper rubbed his eyes hard, the pressure filling an ache that was splitting his head.

 

“Buullshit,” he groaned out.

 

“No, really,”  Marcus shrugged, “I got big plans—Many now involving Lucy,” he said matter-of-factly. 

 

The Ghoul had gone noticeably rigid, his scent becoming a powerful warning to prey and predators alike.

“Watch it,” 

 

“No, not like that,” Marcus waved him off.

 He knew the Ghoul wouldn’t play about his fresh bride.

 

 “She's kind, charismatic, intelligent, heroic— I want her help, ” he explained.

 

With that being said, the ghoul couldn't help but agree that working with Marcus would likely be very fulfilling for Lucy. Though—

 

Marcus’s gonna need to get used to her taking the lead. 

 

“She'll be great for the job,” Cooper said after a beat. 

 

“I know she would be, but she's no good to the world pretending she's not changed,” 

 

Cooper shrugged off every word because Marcus just wasn’t getting it. He’s done, he's ready to go. This isn’t about ending misery—

 

“Well, you can break the news to her for me,” he said casually. 

 

The bigger man grimaced. “Come on, don’t say that–”

 

“Leave then—”

 

“Talk to me, Cooper–” Marcus pleaded with a lean forward. 

 

He flinched away. “Don’t say my fucking name —We’re not friends—” The Ghoul snarled.

 

“We are friends–”

 

“Nooo, we’re not—” Cooper sang out with a vibrating shake of his head. 

 

“Yeeeaahh we are–” Marcus mocked back, “You don’t live this long without holding on to the few in similar situations.”

 

“Similar situations,” the cowboy echoed.

 

“Yeah,” 

 

“Then you should understand,” Cooper said through gritted teeth. 

 

What do I honestly have to look forward to for the next hundred years?

 

 He won’t stick around his descendants; It wouldn’t be good for them. Him, hanging around like an entitled shadow of the past. 

 

“Well, I don’t, so why don’t you explain it to me?” Marcus argued. 

 

“I’m not like you,” he groaned.  “I don’t have a purpose. I don't have a burning desire to lead people to some promise land—” 

 

“You must have had some burning desire to fuel you this long,” pointed out the mutant. 

 

The Ghoul’s shoulders tossed up off the wall unfazed, “I did, now I don’t.” 

 

“What was it?” 

 

“It doesn’t matter.” The ghoul snapped.

 

Marcus shrugged, “Matters to me,” he said. 

 

Cooper's adams apple bobbed in his silent fume, his fingers flexing around the neck of the Handle.  

 

It just didn’t matter—

 

“Come on, I can’t stop you, I learned that a really long time ago. The least you can do is tell me what made this incredibly annoying foe over the years?” Marcus’s eyes seemed to glow as he leaned forward with interest.

 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he grumbled. 

 

Marcus groaned back— “And it’s always about what you want?” 

 

Cooper's skin began to tingle as his eyes stayed glued to his lap. 

 

“Let me guess, you didn’t even tell Lucy you were leaving, because it was about what you wanted.” The mutant laughed nonchalantly.

 

“Stop–” he warned, pleaded. He didn’t need to hear it, he already knew—

 

“That makes more sense. She’s very persuasive. If you had spoken to her, I bet you wouldn’t be here right now,” the leader poked.

 

The Ghoul growled, turning to bear his teeth at the larger man—“ Well, I sure as shit didn’t want a conversation like this. You're ruining my buzz.” 

 

“ Good –” Marcus snapped.

 

“Uphft–” the ghoul puffed out— S’fuckin’ rude—

 

“I didn’t take you for a coward,” the mutant said, crossing his arms in the direction of The Ghoul. 

 

That made him quiet, because truthfully, he had his own opinion regarding his cowardice. 

 

He kinda wished Marcus knew his last name so he could share his fun anecdote. 

You can’t spell coward without Cooper Howard. 

 

 “Did I strike a nerve?” The leader said, filling the silence Cooper left behind. 

 

“Marcus, please leave me be.” 

 

His voice was fragile, forcing the Mutant to sit up a tad straighter and guiltily stay quiet.

 

He knew the gruff man wouldn’t favor kind, soft sentiments in this moment, but he didn’t intend to actually worsen the man's mindset. 

 

“Aren’t you afraid of death?” he asked moments later, running out of things to say. 

 

Cooper swallowed before speaking in a whisper, “I’m scared of being bored to death—” 

 

“Ugh,” Marcus moved closer to Cooper in a quick scooch–” I am going to drink if you’re going to be an ass.” Marcus outstretched his hand.

 

Cooper stared at the massive mitt, ready to decline, a real snooze-you-lose sort of attitude, but decided against it. 

 

He handed over the bottle, its size shrinking in the mutant hands.

 

He felt a need to state the obvious.

 “You don’ gotta stay here. I’m not your problem.” 

 

Marcus took his swig of the liquor and swallowed— his face scrunching, “I don’t know what you’re talking about–” he shuddered “ —I’m waiting to loot your body.”  And choosing to skip the pass back to The Ghoul. 

 

Cooper laughed, a grin spreading across his face. 

 

“Hey, do you remember the movie Titanic?” Marcus asked before tipping himself another sip. 

 

“Whufff—” Cooper's back fully relaxed against the wall, “fucking drunk already— What's that gotta do–”

 

“Shut up,” Marcus snapped.

 

 “You remember Rose? She was gonna jump from the ship. Jack stopped her–” 

 

“Are you telling me, you're the Jack to my Rose–”

 

“I said shut up—” Marcus snapped again.

 

 “Rose was going to kill herself on the Titanic two days before it sank.” The mutant looked at him expectantly, his posture open and excited. 

 

His fingers twitched for the cool metal in his lap. “So?” The Ghoul shrugged. Not impressed with the leader's platitudes.

 

“Soooo, she only had to wait two more days, and she could have died with the rest of them,” he finished with a large smile in all his gap-tooth wisdom.

 

Cooper shook his head, looking away. “Jesus–.” 

 

What a pep talk.

 

“I just think you’re going to die one day anyway, why not take this feeling and just see where the next two days take you, maybe you’ll get what you want, and your ship will still sink.” The mutant swayed as his sweaty, twisting grip on the handle’s body squeaked over the glass.

 

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I’ve done the two days more thing plenty of times—” Cooper’s honest appreciation was cut short.

 

“And look at you now, two hundred years later,” Marcus said with a joyful gesture at The Ghoul’s body.

 

He felt his eyes grow heavy, feeling frozen in his spot.

 

  That’s the problem.  

 

Two hundred years of feeling like his chest was going to collapse every time he thought of his daughter. Two hundred years of taking out those feelings on everyone who crossed his path. He can’t show that to Janey. He can’t let Barb see how broken he is —

 

Because she will notice. 

 

 “I’d been looking for my family– or rather , what happened to them,” Cooper finally admitted, looking straight ahead in a grumbled refusal to look at the other man. 

 

“You’ve found out then?” he heard the mutant say. 

 

Cooper looked down at his gun, studying the grooves and small dots of old, old blood. 

 

“They're back in Lucy’s vault,” he mumbled. 

 

“Alive?” Macus's voice was quiet. 

 

The trigger had been altered at some point, as a replacement, done by Cooper. Gone was the typical curve to fit the typical finger; left was half a bolt he had to scavenge for. 

 

“Lookin’ like it,” he answered. 

 

He’d love this gun for years, grateful to still have it after the whole '97 ordeal—

 

“How?” The other man sounded astounded. Unless they were ghouls or mutants, he didn’t know much about other forms of semi-immortality. 

 

“Lot’a complicated shit,” He waved the mutant off. “But long story short, if I show up, it’s not going to be as the man I once was and…” 

 

“And what?” 

 

Cooper looked back at the mutant, sparks coming from his ears—“And I can’t pick up where I left off, not like this. If my daughter’s been sheltered anything like Lucy, she won’t be ready for someone like me, someone who looks like me–I-I don’t want to burden–”

 

“Ahh, and we’re back to it being about what you want,” Marcus interrupted. 

 

The Ghoul's heart sped up. “ Fuck you ,” he spat. “I was finally talk’n—”

“Whining's more like it.” 

 

Cooper had to admit he’s grateful it’s not all sunshine and betterments from the mutant, but he’d still prefer being alone to this. “Get the fuck outta here,” He snarled with a rough gesture to the door, “Go–”

 

“You get the hell out of here, go to Lucy, see your family, you’re just jumping to your death from a conclusion. I’m uglier than you—”

“ True.”

Marcus rolled his eyes,“ —I’m not letting that shape my whole world view,” he accused The Ghoul.

 

Cooper scoffed, “It’s not shaping my world view, I just never thought they’d be alive this far out, I only wanted to know where–” 

 

“You waited 200 years for just a location?” 

 

“I waited 200 years to know when I let go of my daughter that it amounted to something. That when my wife blew up the world, it didn’t ruin our child’s life.” Cooper said. 

 

“When your wife blew up the world? —” He was dismissed with a wave of a hand.

“Don’t worry about that old news, Hank MacLean blew up Shady Sands—”

“What—”

“My point is, the wonder is gone. Now? I’m just tired. There’s nothing left for me now.” 

 

Cooper trailed off as his attention fell back to his lap. 

 

“I’m gonna tell Lucy you said that,” he heard from his left. 

 

His neck snapped fast towards the traitor.

 

“ You fucker , ya better not.”

 

Marcus laughed, “Well, I certainly don’t count my future with Lucy as nothing.”

 

“I don’t either, but like I said, I'm not an indoor toy,” Cooper repeated. 

 

He’d go stir crazy. He knows he would. 

 

“Lucy is going through something that most don’t survive,” Marcus said, now more serious than ever. “Whether it's her surroundings or her own rotting mind, most fresh don’t get enough time to lose their nose.” 

 

He knows ‘The Ghoul’ knows that. 

 

Cooper looked away. 

 

He did know that.

 

But he honestly thinks Lucy is stronger than the average surface dweller. Her change wasn’t brutally traumatic, and as misguided as he may be, young Henry has proven time and time again that he would go to great lengths for his daughter. 

 

“Maybe you don’t see your family–” Marcus rolled his massive shoulders in exaggeration, “ You really cut it short, at just knowing—But Lucy needs someone like you right now. Could be me, but I know she’d prefer you.” he pushed. 

 

“It doesn't need to be me,” Cooper tried.

 

Marcus shrugged, his pained features leaning in with a whisper, “I think it does.”

 

Lucy was clearly a free spirit experiencing freedom for the first time. Marcus knew he was patient, but he also had standards that had to be uphold when it came to the people he’d sworn to protect. 

 

Lucy needs to learn the ropes with someone who knows how to give slack.

 

The silence dragged on as Marcus took a long drink, then handed the bottle back to the ghoul. 

 

It had become noticeably lighter. 

 

Cooper squinted.  “You did this on purpose,” he stated, head tilting towards the near-empty bottle. 

 

Marcus coughed into a tight fist, “Yeah .”

 

Cooper looked forward with a heavy sway of his head. If he went back, he would have to face Vault 96. He would have to face Barb, his daughter…his life’s mission all in one. Lucy wouldn’t let him hide away in avoidance. He knows it.

 

Marcus regarded The Ghoul, watching a million emotions behind one clicked twinge of his jaw. 

 

“I think you can pick this up another time,” Marcus said under his breath. Earning Cooper's intense glare. 

 

“She’s going to make me talk to ‘em,” Cooper deadpanned. Knowing Marcus knew who the contextually persistent ‘she’ was. 

 

“Sounds like she’ll be there to support you.” The mutant returned. 

 

His racing heart began to slow, thinking about how much easier his life had become with Lucy around, followed by an intense regretful lump forming in his throat for leaving her without a goodbye. 

 

“Aren’t you curious to see if something amazing happens?” Marcus prodded a little too eagerly.

 

Cooper scowled then. “I don’t need any false hope shit thrown at me,” he said with an aggravated shake of his head. 

 

Marcus threw his hands up, “Hey, all my hope is genuine—” 

 

The Ghoul began to cough, cutting the Mutant off. 

 

Marcus looked around the room, seeing if Cooper was going to pull out any Vials or Goo from somewhere. When The Ghoul just continued to cough, the bigger man spoke up.

 

 “How many vials do you need to walk back to 33?”

 

Cooper wiped away bile that wormed its way up his throat.  

 

Walk—

 

“Two—I guess,” he grunted. 

 

Am I really doing this?

 

“How about I give you a weeks?” Marcus suggested. 

 

Cooper rolled his eyes at the implication. “Only if I get the convoy too.”

 

“No,” Marcus said with a swift and sure shake of his head. 

 

“But–” The Ghoul whined.

 

“I said no.” The mutant said easily once more, this time with a tough luck shrug. 

 

“Fine, then I want you to do something for me,” Cooper said with a twang.

 

“I have to do you a favor to do you a favor?” he asked confoundedly.

 

“Mmhmm,” The cowboy hummed.

 

“Being friends with you is weird,” Marcus said with a small smile. 

 

“Yeah, it is,” Cooper confirmed deadpan, looking away from the hulking figure beside him.

 

Marcus beamed with The Ghouls agreement, scooching closer to his companion. “What do you want?” 

 

Cooper looked back at the bigger man. “Moldaver still around?” he quirked his browline.

 

“Will she ever not be?” Marcus said with a roll of his eyes.

 

 Like he said before, you don’t live this long without knowing those in similar situations. 

 

“I need you to deliver a letter for me,” the cowboy stated, bringing the bottle back to his mouth. 

 

Marcus looked taken aback at the simple request. “Yeah, when I see her next, sure—” 

 

“And another thing—” Cooper started,

 

“You’re pushing your luck."

 

The Ghoul held up his hands. “I just need a pen and paper.”  

Notes:

Okay so if you skipped the chapter, here's all there is to know,
Cooper and Marcus spoke to one another regarding Lucy's potential and future.
Also Cooper asked for Marcus's help in delivering a letter to Moldaver.
About what? Wasn't mentioned.
Is she even alive? It was assumed by Marcus that she was alive.

Thank you for reading! Can't wait for the next chapter!

Chapter 25: Silver Era

Notes:

Enjoy!

“Girls, Girls, the simpler solution is to pull Barb out kicking and screaming. Then we can have what we’ve always wanted!” He bent his knees, oscillating between the two. “Complete rule over 96!” He hurried out.

It was a subtle plea for the women to just understand.

Hank MacLean stood with his back to the open overseer's office; two stern women poised at the front. They were half an hour deep into the largest disagreement of their professional relationship.

Betty cleared her throat. “I don’t remember agreeing to your daughter receiving a slice of the pie.”

“Yeah—” Stephanie crossed her arms, “It’s bad enough I have to share with you two.”

The two older Overseers shared a pinched expression as one’s gaze flicked upward and the other swatted away the comment.

Hank wrinkled his brow, moving to downplay the scene. “It’s a phase, I promise. She’ll come around to the chain of command again—”  

“It’s not good enough, Hank.” Betty walked past the couch on the man’s right to sit behind the large metal desk. “All this talk about going against Barb? After what she did to 32?” There was a slight tremor in her voice at the mention of their sister vault.

With the eldest Maclean’s return, he was aghast to hear of Barb’s participation in the eradication of Vault 32. First, that it had taken place 20 years before Lucy’s wedding, and second, that Buddy could keep that large of a secret.  

All that time, being encouraged by Barb to communicate with a vault she’d gassed out. Hank gave a shake of his head. Sounds like her to be honest— “I know you don’t want to hear it, but there’s nothing she can do without going through Bud.”

Stephanie moved behind Hank, earning a raised eyebrow from over his shoulder.

He studied the sprightly blonde as she bent down to input the lock door code. She’s not normally this bubbly—His thought was interrupted by the older Overseer’s voice.

“Hank, we have protocols to follow, ones that we began implementing the moment you chose Lucy over a handful of vault residents.”

“One of which was me, by the way,” Stephanie said, settling closer to Hank’s left with an upturned index finger.

Hank sneered at the eye-patched blonde, “If you don’t understand, maybe you’re not cut out to be a parent.”

“Screw YOU. ”  Stephanie seethed.

“This is exactly my point, Hank. You’re not going to let anything bad happen to Lucy.” Betty explained.

He tilted his head up, emitting a loud groan towards the absurd world around him. “Why does anything bad have to happen to Lucy—" Hank felt a prick bite deep into his neck—He jerked away, his left arm curling—bringing a ghostly hand over the newly tender spot.

The blonde stepped away from the man’s wide-eyed turn, his blazing gaze fixated on the syringe Stephanie held on display.

His jaw went slack, “Wha…” he tried.

“We're sorry, Hank.” He heard Betty say.

Next, he took a wild swing, missing Stephanie by sluggish seconds. His fist fell to his side like dead weight.

Tingling legs couldn’t keep up as his calves met the couch. Bones vibrating, hollowing out his skin as he fought a new dizzying fatigue.

Fully fallen to the seat, watery eyes followed longtime friends as they crouched into his view.

 “We’ve been tasked to deliver Lucy to Barb,” Betty confessed, averting her gaze.

Hank couldn’t speak. He was paralyzed— half sprawled across the suede cushions.

“This isn’t personal,” Stephanie whispered, reaching forward to brush bangs away from his hidden face. “We just need you…out of the way."

 

---

 

Vault 33’s corn field courtyard was in a blue and yellow buzz.

In the last 48 hours, Lucy had left her hole for one reason and one reason only.

Her favorite pastime. Community service.

“Hey Lucy!” Woody jogged to the young woman’s side.

“Hey, Woody.” Lucy wore a tight smile as she continued her task of setting up tonight’s picnic tables.

The councilman clapped in glee, “How crazy is it that you returned, just as we were gearing up to have the ‘End of Fall Ball Bash Dance Party’ again?” He pushed his glasses up with a finger, smiling at the former Fall Ball Bash Dance Party Queen.

Lucy smiled—fondly this time, glancing around the room. Others were setting up the main communal area for tonight’s dance with century-old streamers and inflatables. God—How she loved the bells and whistles of party planning.

 “Yeah…” She walked backwards to face the following man, setting down cutlery as she went. “I can’t believe you guys haven’t had it for the last three years.”

“Poetic timing, I suppose.” Woody trailed off in tone, looking around and playfully drumming his fingers on the table’s surface.

Her expression hardened. She didn’t want to ask. Asking could mean anything.

She’d been bitterly avoiding responsibility since Betty wasn’t going to open Vault 96.

For all she knew, Woody wanted her to be a D.W. tonight.

Being a Designated Walker would kill the buzz I plan on having.

Woody continued looking around absent-mindedly, even lifting his arm to check his pip-boy for the time. The motion waved his anxiety-riddled scent towards her.

She wrinkled her nose, scent tickling her inside hairs. She silently begged to back off the sneeze—her face crumpled into her arm. “Achoo!”

“Gesundheit”

She sniffled with a lift of her head, trying not to scowl at the man.

So, this is how it’s going to be?

She sighed, “Everything alright, Woody?”

“Well.” The round man started, “I was wondering if you’d like to be entered in the drawing for Queen.”

“Oh!” She gaped. “Uhm…”

I haven’t even campaigned.

“That’s nice, but…no thank you.” She gave a soft shake of her head, “It’s already a lot, adjusting to being home—”

“That’s what I said!” The shorter man nearly shouted, seemingly angry at someone else who had been a part of this conversation.

He looked back at the shocked MacLean and gave a satisfied nod, “Okay, cool.”

Wait a minute—

She stepped closer to Woody, her hushed words only for his ears, “Who thought I would enjoy—"

“Lucy! Woody!” Stephanie was walking through a separation in the corn field.

The startled pair gravitated apart, focusing on the visiting 32 family.

With an infant in one arm and a toddler towed by the other, Chet emerged moments later.

Eye patch beamed.

Lucy looked at the tallest remnants of her mother’s family dreamingly, bending his head in her direction.

“Woody, did you ask her?” The young overseer was practically bouncing.

The round man stood up straighter, “Yeah, I did. And I was right by the way—”

“Oh, pooh—” Stephanie jutted out her bottom lip.  

Lucy cringed, a stab of pain forming behind her eye, receiving the blonde’s psychic lobotomy.

“Come on, Lucy, what a great way to embrace being back home?”  She swooped in, taking the brunettes’ hands—

She wasn’t in the mood for this right now. She just wants to party…and dance. “No, thank you.” She answered, pulling away to exit the park table area without a second glance.

Stephanie snapped to her male companion, roughly gesturing that he follow his cousin.

Lucy walked across the yard to greet her brother and The Brothers.

Watching Max roughhouse with an excited Dogmeat eased some tension in her bones. A faint smile bloomed on her weary face.

She looked to the knight’s left, finding Norm.

He was setting up electrical equipment, explaining the system to an interested Dane.

Feeling the audience, her brother looked up — “Hey,” he said.

Dane, Thadius, and Max looked up in an instant, easily welcoming the female MacLean.

“Hey.” She said blankly.

Norm’s eyes fell past her, and he gave a stiff nod. “Hey, Chet.”

Lucy turned, seeing her cousin sheepishly approach. Finally! She thought. She’d only been waiting to see her young cousins without the stiff blonde since 32 opened.

When he and the children glued to his sides were close enough, her smile broadly broke the colder facade she’d had minutes prior. She thrust her arms out. “Give her here!” She squealed.

Chet smiled, passing over his daughter.

Lucy lightly bounced the baby's weight seated in her arms, A gummy grin spreading on the aware infant’s face.

She was pulling a funny face when she heard someone clear their throat.

She looked up to find Thaddaeus coiling a cord.

Anticipating her gaze, his eyes flicked up before lightly falling back down Lucy's body.

Her stomach fell. Oh right.

She nodded in his direction, only milliseconds before quickly passing the baby back to a surprised Chet.

She was frowning as she took a tense step back, ignoring the hurt on Chet’s face.

 The toddler on his left playfully picked at his teeth, passing a glance between Lucy and his father.

“I’m sorry, Chet.” She rushed out.

Chet looked at his son and then at Lucy, taking a step forward—Lucy took a step back.

“What’s wrong?”

Lucy rubbed her sweaty palms on her pants, looking to the right, where they had an audience.

Specifically, an audience where only one of the members wasn’t already aware of ‘What was wrong.’  

Her eyes met Norm's.

He was studying this moment, unabashedly, because she always supported this highly invasive brain, because—

Just rip it off like a Band-Aid.

Her attention snapped back to her cousins. “I forgot that due to my time on the surface, I constantly carry a trace of radiation—”

Chet’s eyes widened as he stood up straighter, his aura making him a foot taller.

“It may be nothing, but you should take her to the doctor and discuss a course of action.”

She sounded like she had a morose frog in her throat, while her brown eyes held a heavy glare past Chet’s frame.

He gave a small, panicked nod. “Okay,” he mumbled, and then his eyes softened. “Thank you,” He said, guiding the toddler away in a quick step.

Lucy could see Chet pass Stephanie. The blonde placed fists on her hips as she tracked her cousin’s movements. “Where are you going?" she yelled at him.

“The DOCTOR!”

Lucy flinched at the sound of Chet’s raised voice already echoing far down the unseen hallway.

Stephanie's eyes widened, glancing toward Lucy with a rising rosy tint in her cheeks. She looked back at Chet, then jogged to follow.

Lucy sighed in relief, turning back to face her brother, who’d stealthily moved closer while she was distracted.

“Opp. Norm,” she gasped, her hand clutching her chest.

“Was that true?” He asked with a cavalier attitude.

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Please, Norm, if you want to read into something—read the room.”

 She walked away, her apartment sounding better by the minute. She’d done it. She’d gone out for the day. She helped—I served my community—

Norm watched his sister walk away. She’d become more social in the last three days, but with an edge. He’d noticed the purple bags growing under her eyes, too.

 She’s angry because she’s tired—He told himself.

The youngest MacLean looked back at the Brothers.

Max and Dogmeat had settled down, the furry friend panting on her side.

The former knight just shrugged. “I think you gotta leave it alone, man.”

Norm gave the floor a tight-lipped glance. “Yeah,” next he looked to the corridor where Lucy had disappeared, “I’m starting to get that.”

 

---

 

“Lucy!” Tense shoulders lead to tight fists at the young woman’s sides. Lucy’s jaw sets as she turns around.

Betty…and Stephanie?

 They were approaching the vault ghoul, unaware of the impending fuse on its way to be lit.

Bored chocolate eyes take in both women from top to bottom, before slowly stalking towards them. Lucy arched a brow at Stephanie. “Shouldn’t you be at the doctor with Chet?”

Stephanie beamed, waving off the notion. “Oh, it’s just a small food allergy, it’s nothing to worry about.” She laughed.

Betty broke in, “A little birdy told me you’re interested in making queen at the fall ball party bash.”

“A little birdy lied to you,” Lucy said, her eyes flicking towards the blonde whose mask began to fall.

The older woman also unhelpfully looked at the blonde. “Dear, I think celebrating will be a great way to reacclimate to the vault.”

Lucy shrugged. “I plan on celebrating.”

“But as a member of the court?” Stephanie clarified. “Remember last time, just before you were announced as the winner?” She moved closer to Lucy. “You and I had been waiting behind the stage for half an hour, gossiping about boys—”

Lucy turned away from the blonde, who shockingly stopped talking.

Betty’s jaw tensed, speaking more firmly after Lucy’s retreating form. “Why don’t we go to the office and discuss your future contribution to the vault?”

Lucy stopped. Her nostrils flared as she tried to take a steady breath. She felt a wave of nausea rush through her then. Her lungs filled with a suffocating, inside-out coat as she tried to breathe. Thaddius had said she was not taking enough of the goo. She had hoped one every few days would prolong her supply. She was wrong.

She started coughing when she felt two different hands each embrace her shoulders.

Looking from side to side, Lucy shrugged off both women to angrily address them. Then her knees buckled.

“Dear, why don’t we escort you to the infirmary?” Betty said, catching Lucy by her right arm. Stephanie caught her left and nodded.

“You haven’t looked good since I’ve seen you.” The blonde said.

Lucy smirked, looking up. Once again, she pulled her limbs free from the woman.

“Food allergies.” She said, taking a step backwards.

Both women once again stepped forward.

“Look,” she said sternly. “I’m going to my apartment, and I don’t want to be followed.” Lucy's large eyes blazed in demand; however, the woman spared each other a sympathetic glance before Betty once again spoke.

 “Dear, if you’re feeling ill, I must insist you come with us to the infirmary.

Both women took a step forward, prompting Lucy to take a step back.

Stephanie looked upon her with furrowed brows. “We just want to help you—”

 The blonde’s eyes widened in terror; she took an instinctive step back, her arm pushing and blocking the older, shorter woman’s form to follow.

Betty gasped, her hand finding her mouth.

Lucy’s brow furrowed as she took in their change of heart, her own surprise filling her senses along with a familiar scent.

No…?

“Are you two fucking deaf, she said she dont wanna be followed.”

Lucy’s body turned around fast—filled to the tip top with too much anger.

She swayed, but strong arms found themselves wrapping around her easily. Keeping her upright and secure—

“Whoa, Darlin’, I got you—”

“Got me?” She mumbled harshly, pulse racing.

She stood straighter without his assistance. “You left me!”  She shouted, shoving Cooper away.

“Augh,” he groaned, blocking hits to his torso, “I know I—”

“I don’t want to hear it right now!” She yelled with a harsh push, forcing him down the hallway.

He looked over his shoulder at the stunned overseers, “I—”

“Quiet!” She snapped. Letting him loose at the corner of her apartment corridor. “Get to my apartment!” she demanded with a point.

“Yes, ma'am!” Cooper grunted in a breath, moving quickly out of view.

Lucy turned back around to the other women. “Do. Not. Follow. ME!” she spoke with a final sincerity that would keep anyone rooted in place.

The overseers watched the young MacLean disappear around the corner with her shouting voice still in earshot.

“What are you still doing out here?” her voice bellowed.

“I don’t know where you fuckin’ live!”

“I wonder why!?” was the last thing they heard before muffled voices disappeared behind the sound of a sliding—swiping door.

Betty looked at Stephanie. “If that’s who I think it is, we're out of time getting her alone.”

Stephanie crossed her arms in thought. “Maybe we can entice her?”

Betty shook her head. “Oh, like being this year’s dance queen?” she said, turning away from the blonde.

The tall woman scowled following her elder. “If you have one of your 'Better Betty ideas, ' she air quoted, “I’m all ears.”

 

Notes:

Thank you for reading, XOXO!

Chapter 26: Frontal Lobe

Cooper was crudely shoved through the small vault door. His ragdoll posture feigning boredom as he glanced around the room.

 

This apartment was small.

Too small for the MacLean family. 

 

A queen bed was on his right, creating a small studio floor plan, roughly ten feet away from a corner scullery.  Perfect size for just her, he thought, moving with purpose to inspect the kitchen.

 An isolated hum coated his surroundings; something he hadn’t noticed on his last trip down. He’d been too busy, distracted by Buds' blaring alarms and blood rushing in his ears.

 

He began opening cabinets.

“Where’s yer stash of…?” His own question was answered as he opened the uppermost drawer.

He swallowed a threatening cough, making his way to the medicine. Her bottle of goo has obviously been proportioned—probably sharing with that damn young blood—he realized with a hard bite into his cheek. 

 

He heard a pointed clearing of her throat, cueing him to turn around.

 

Taking in her crossed arms and even more crossed expression, he decided to beat her to the punch.

“Why’re you lettin’ those two push you around?” he said, sliding the bottle across the dining table toward his pissed partner. 

 

The fresh dweller scoffed, compliantly and silently snatching the goo. “Where did you go?”

 

His chest tightened. “You’re deflecting,” Cooper said, setting his hat on the table.

 

Lucy rolled her eyes, firmly pointing at his body. “YOU’RE deflecting.” 

 

“You’re right,” He said quickly, a congratulations of sorts plastered itself across his face as he gave her a quick thumbs up. “That was a mind game, and you won.” 

He looked away again, continuing his pursuit of removing gear.

 

“Cooper!” Lucy huffed, stomping into the decorative rug. “I can’t just let this go—”

 

Fully unequipped, he moved closer. “Please? Can’t ya?” Nearby enough now, he helped guide the goo bottle up to her lips. 

 

She continued the pout, but took the cue.

After taking a larger-than-normal gulp of her medicine, he placed warm hands on her sides. 

“At least for right now?” He half pleaded, browline contorting as he calculated her response. He shimmyed her closer––

 

He's dirty—and it’s intoxicating, said a husky voice, way, way in the back of her stupid, foolish head. 

Still, the aroma weighed her lashes down as she took in a deep breath of pure him. Even for her nearly two weeks back in the vault, his lived-in-seasoned skin still got to her in a way…

 

He sounded closer-- soon proven by his breath brushing against her pouty lips.

“I’m Sorry,” he whispered.

She was just…one, tender inch away—the smell of medicine on her mouth enticing him forward, beckoning him to lick it out. “Are we Okie Dokie?” he baited. 

 

Brown baffled eyes blink open…

She shoved him away in an instant, angrily slamming the bottle to the table. “No,” she spat, walking away with a purposeful stride.

 

The cowboy backed away easily enough—Course not, he thought, rolling his stiff jaw to the side—“You being a bitch to everybody, or is it just me?”, he barked, swiping the medicine from the table.

 

Lucy faced him—eyes a blurry flame of shock and appall.

 

Cooper ignored her direction, tilting his head back to swallow— “Gaaahhh,” That’s the stuff—

He settled his gaze back to her, finding a face redder than his.

“Somethin’ I said?” he purred, purposely moving to place the bottle back into its kitchen drawer.

He heard her movement at the same time as the sound of the closing compartment, turning in time for their chests to brush together.

 

“A bitch?”

 

“Yeah.”  

 

“Really?”

 

He could see the white of her eyes, twisting and churning his stomach in anticipation of a violent roll in the hay. They hadn’t done that in a while— 

“That’sss what I said,” he drawled, performing an unnecessary roll of his head.

 

Her cheekbones sharpened in all her seriousness. “If I were a bitch I would hurt your feelings.” 

 

“Is that so?” He questioned, a row of yellow teeth breaking free from the side of his mouth.

 

“Mmmhmm.” She hummed, her perfect lips pursing as she confidently nodded.

 

“Well, I don’ got feelings, darlin.”

 

“Wanna bet?”

 

Cooper stood up straight, pure evil glinting behind his eyes. To him, a slew of insults sounded better than discussing this past week without her, or even… god forbid…those feelings he claims not to have. “Hit me with it.”

 

She was beginning to shake—because how dare he— She wanted to do it. Make him hurt like she did—make them all hurt. Everyone who keeps pushing her aside, treating her like someone without a voice, like someone—

 

“I’m waiting?”

 

Suddenly engulfed by an unnamed sensation, she fought the buckle of her knees as her lips began to tremble. Since being lassoed with this man, all she’s wanted to do is be something soft for someone so hard—tears betrayed her angry armor, welling beneath her brown orbs. 

 

The Ghouls' smirk fell—I shoulda known— fuck.

 

She averted her gaze, quickly attempting to conceal the crumple of her features. 

This was even worse than yelling, in both their opinion.

 

Guilt brought him to push her back into the main room, his knees bending to fall in front of her. “Come on now,” he voiced below a whisper. Straining his neck to look at her, his large hands found her sides. “Tell me what’s been going on. You gotta lot of pent-up rage, I can see it.”

 

She sucked in a stuttering breath– “Some of it’s directed at you,” she whimpered, wiping away tears and snot with a leather sleeve. 

 

“Good. Don’t let me off easy,” he said, twisting her body from the gentle hold on her hips. “Who else has gotten under that skin of yours?”

 

“Everyone!” she shouted, throwing up confounded arms, “…my dad,” she tacked on.

 

He shrugged, “Figures, I owe him another slap anyway.” 

 

She released a dark chuckle before bitterly shaking her head. “And Norm…surprisingly.”

 

“What’s baby brother doin’?” 

 

“He knows I’m hiding something, but I…” she paused, while Cooper kept quiet.

 

Wide eyes moved erratically in one far direction of the room as she tried to think, “I don’t know if I want to tell him I’m…” She couldn’t help but fall silent again, wrapping her arms around herself.

A habit she’d formed over the last week.

Thumbs started to tenderly rub into the flesh of her suit.

 

“A ghoul?” he finished for her.

 

Lucy nodded numbly, a tear trailing down her cheek as she looked up and away. She regretted mentioning it to him. She’d been nervous to voice how much she wished she’d never been changed, worried about offending him since leaving Vault 97. She sniffled, pushing forward, “He won’t stop digging,” she whispered wetly.

 

“Sounds too bad for him.” He started, oblivious, “You don’t ever gotta tell him. You can just disappear one day.”

 

“Noo...” She shook her head, slightly pleased she’d evaded insulting him. Though she supposes treating him like the overall possessor of Ghoul hardships wasn’t kind. Whether he knew she’d been acting that way or not. She looked down, chin quivering.

 

He caught her gaze, delivering a soft smile.“Sure, ya can. It's easy. I can show you how.” Maybe he’s trying to ease some of his own guilt. 

 

Lucy let out a laugh beneath her breath, butterflies dancing in her stomach. She sniffled again before nasally asking, “Can you at least explain to me why?”

 

“I will, I promise,” he rushed, resting his cheek on her lower abdomen. His pulse pounded in his throat as Lucy's arms wrapped firmly around his charred head.

 

After a few beats of silence, he asked, “You want me to scare those ladies for you?” His gravelly voice mumbled into her jumpsuit fabric. 

 

The vibration of it tickled her insides as Lucy contemplated the idea. If no one is going to listen to her, then maybe she should stick her bounty hunter on them. “Maybe,” she said finally, “Maybe then, they’ll actually take me seriously.”

 

“Well, they should just take you seriously,” he said, leaning away with a hard gaze. Moving quickly to stand, his tone took a harsh quality. “The things you’ve done in 3 short years?... It’s more than they’ve set out to do their whole lives.”

 

Lucy sighed, walking away with a shake of her head.“Surface reputation isn’t worth anything down here. It doesn’t matter that I’m The Ghouls' wife.”

 

His chest swelled at her self-proclamation of being his wife, but he pushed past it to follow her deeper into the room, “Maybe that’s your problem,” he said behind her. 

“What?” Lucy asked, glancing over her shoulder.

 

“How you think of yourself. You’re not treatin’ yourself any better than the lot around here.” Cooper sauntered over slowly, bending his head to meet her misty gaze. “You’re not The Ghoul’s wife, sweetheart.”

 

She was silent as he studied her face, failing to perk in understanding. So he continued.

 

“You’re The Ghoul.”

 

A faint blush instantly rose to her cheeks.

The Ghoul leaned in closer, hoping to breathe his next few words into her—

 

“And The Ghoul does what The Ghoul wants.” 

 

He kissed her hard.

 

She moaned, leaning further into the feeling, as his tongue fought to ravish her mouth, sucking in her bottom lip—OW!— she sucked in a sharp breath over Cooper's mouth, before quickly pulling away.

Lifted fingers grazed where her lip had been split open between the ghouls’ teeth. Licking her lacerated lip, Lucy tasted coppery blood before the cut sealed itself back together. The fleeting, feverish sensation sent a small ounce of ecstasy through her body—acting as biological morphine. 

She looked at him, watching as his tongue peeked past his smirking lips, lapping up her collected blood while the overhead light haloed his cocky head.

“Why’d you do that?” she whimpered.

 

Cooper walked away, lifting his gloved hands to methodically remove the garments. He threw them on the kitchen counter before turning around and leaning back. His strong grip held firmly to the edges of the wood. He looked her up and down before finally answering.

 “You can’t be afraid to bleed to prove a point.” 

 

“I’m not,” she scoffed. She really didn’t need him to tell her about bleeding. And not even in that way, I mean—, she meant about using these new gifts. She’s already taken a bullet for Max, not that she’s trying to count.

 

“You are. You wanna do everything with a please and thank you, and I’d thought you’d figured out by now that’s not how things get handled anymore.”

 

Oh, that’s what he meant, “They could—” she tried.

 

“Did you ask for permission in Vault 97?”

 

A bucket of water.

Cooper had somehow obtained a cold bucket of water, brought it down the escape ladder, walked it passed Bud—I assume—straight into her apartment, to pour over her head.

 

“See, last I heard ‘bout it, you killed two people down there, and judging from your face at the time, I didn’t think you dealt with it in a respectable fashion.” His twang tangled around his observation.

Lucy looked away.

“See—”

 

Brown angry eyes snapped back to him. “See what!?” She shouted. 

“See, how one minute of irreversible actions still weighs on me today… so I should just…What?” she shrugged, “Add to the list? With two women who are products of Vault-Tec as much as I am.”

“Nah, they’re not,” he dismissed, shaking his head. 

“They are—”

“No.”, he snapped, “Them two made their choices a long time ago, and you ain’t but just started knowing that that’s even an option.” She was not like them. And he’ll stand eight toes down to defend that.

 

There was a beat of silence as Lucy absorbed his words. 

 

She hated herself, honestly. 

Because deep down, every time someone tells her to change her outlook, she gets it. She wants to. She wants to let it go—Maybe it’s all about time—a perception-fueled pout was taking hold of her features, her arms crossing over her body in a protective—

“Pout all you want.”

 

“Oh, shut up!” She yelled, facing him again. She was literally just silently agreeing with him—

He lifted his chin.

“Make me.”

 

One Mississippi—

 

She charged him.

 

His hands found her waist, lifting her in an instant. With a quick turnaround, she was set down on the counter,  legs finding their way around his waist to pull him flush, for a long-awaited battle of the lips.

 

He grunted, his dry tongue seeking the oasis that was her mouth. Fuck I’m so thirsty, and almost hard, due to the things she was doing against his body.

 

Lucy moved rhythmically with him. From her lips to her rolling hips. She had one hand gripping the counter and the other arms wrapped around his neck.

 

He doesn’t know if he has it in him for another round of blue balls. After this whole last week and that painfully annoying conversation with Marcus, he figures maybe he should start letting some of this shame go.

 

She can tell he’s severely dehydrated. It had been less obvious when she herself was extremely dehydrated—

Lucy then remembers her manners.

 

 Pushing him back with her counter hand, his chapped puckered lips paused as he watched her lean to the left, opening an above-cabinet.

 She pulled out two glass cups.

Still perfectly seated in the same spot, Lucy turned the other way, leaning over to turn on the faucet. She filled one of the sweet chalices, the sound of running water acting as music to his ears. 

 

Moments like this made the simulation feel less real, not realizing then how the sink there didn’t sound like this.

 

Like reality.  

 

Cooper licked his dry lips, emanating a smack and clack from his parched opening.

Off to the side, Lucy smirked.

 

She moved away from the water when it was near the rim, handing him the dehydration elixir in haste.

He readily took it and chugged, expelling small drips from the sides, wetting the front of his dirty shirt.

 She was just finishing filling the other glass when he set his cup down with a satisfied gasp.  “That was great—” he was interrupted by the next clear water ware pressing at his chest.

Her left hand passed his first glass to her newly freed right hand as she began filling for a third time.

He looked down at the offering–the gift—his love muscle thundering against his chest. 

 

Making sure to drink this one more slowly, He watched Lucy finish the third glass and robotically turn off the faucet.

Big brown eyes watched with fascination as he took in the life substance. He was savoring it this time. Making a show of the pleasure he got from the nectar she had given him.

 

Reaching the bottom of the glass, he tilted his nose-less face up, elongating his neck to take the remaining water in a gulp. 

“Mmmmm,” he moaned over the rim, a droplet cascaded down his scarred cheek to his—

 

Her eyes were nearly black, watching the element trickle down his neck, stopping shortly two inches from disappearing beneath his collar.

She leaned forward, her warm palm gripping around the back of his neck to force him down—Her quick tongue ran up his rough skin in a long swipe.

He gasped—

She followed the trail to his slightly aghast mouth.

“Uhm,” Someone groaned into the other. It was hard to tell as they meshed again, this time slipping and sliding more easily together like a well-lubed machine.  

 

She pushed him away…holding tight to his bottom lip with her teeth.

 

He sucked in, grimacing before anything had happened. 

Tough or not, you can’t help but slightly panic when someone pointedly takes your sensitive parts in a certain threat.

His flesh burst, nerves firing up in a painful—

 

“OW!” he shouted, leaning farther away from the giggling woman.

 

He scowled at her, taking in her curtained hair, a dark chocolate that looked positively meltable. Her half-lidded eyes sat sunken back, her born features hinting at her future ghoulish transformation, creating the mysterious magnetic beauty before him.

 

She took in her pink bottom lip with perfect upper teeth, eyes flicking him up and down with a beaming grin.

 

“I want to bathe you.” She said it into the air like it was already an ongoing thing between them. 

 

Her words made it through his ears in tandem with the ecstasy that filled his veins from his lip sewing itself back together. 

 

He sighed, reaching for the third glass of water set to the side. Well, how many times can I get away with turning the girl down?

 

Curious eyes watched as he held the cup between them. “You wash my back, and I’ll wash yours?” 

 

A stream of light broke across her face as she nodded, “Okie Dokie,” she said in glee.

 

Cooper performed one stiff nod as he lifted the cup in a semi-toast before pressing the rim to her lips.

 

She stuttered slightly in surprise, sipping loudly—

Her hand moved frantic, failing to catch falling water as the ghoul pulled away abruptly, copying the sip himself. 

He swallowed, looking too far to the side.

 

Jesus Christ—He thought suddenly, catching his own annoyingly hesitant behavior. I’m not a blushing virgin.

 

He grabbed her right hand with his left, his opposite, finding her waist to guide her off the counter.

 

A dull crack filled the silence, produced by her combat boots smacking linoleum. She shuffled quietly, squeaking across the floor as Lucy’s feather-light gaze searched his passive face, “There’s a dimmer switch in the bathroom if that interests you?” she rushed out. 

 

He hopes there isn't this much obviousness between them during the whole thing; His obvious being that he needs to be spoken to this way, and her obvious being that she’s bad at pretending she doesn't notice. 

 

“A dimmer?” he said with a hand on his chest, playing off the gratification he did feel for having such a thing. He continued guiding the girl to the only logical location for a restroom, “Fancy,” He continued. “How can I say no?”

Lucy made a pained face and scrunched her shoulders. “You can’t really.”

He laughed. Preferring she joke around. 

Kid gloves are a turn-off.  

 

They moved through the bathroom barrier.

Lucy clicked on the light, its sharpness overtaking the room—only moments before she brought the mood down.

It was darker, but Cooper wanted to regain control. He reached to the side, sliding the dimmer up. 

Ever so slightly.

The room brightened up a bit from his action and the smile Lucy gave him.

 

 She gestured to the shower unit.

It’s small. It’ll be a tight fit, he realized. They’ll have to stand close.

Oh nooo…

 

 “I’m going to undress and get in to turn on the water. Then you can undress… and join me when you’re ready.” She finished with a turn away, the sound of a traveling zipper following closely behind.

He wants to roll his eyes, but doesn’t. It’s his fault she’s speaking to him this way.

She’s a clever girl.

 

Lucy doesn’t pay any attention to him as she reaches behind herself, pulling on her sleeves.

 

Cooper watched her right shoulder pop free from her jumpsuit, then left. The smooth skin spotted by moles he’s never seen before. Clearly not a priority in the simulation and easily confused for dirt or something on the surface.

 He stepped forward, looking down to study the piece of art.

 

Lucy tensed with the sudden presence behind her, flipping hair over her shoulder as she tried to peek over—His lips were on hers, forcing her to sag in desire. Quick arms work to wrap around her, saving her upright in their awkward action.

A prickle of warmth bloomed in her lower abdomen as she moaned, trying to suck on his tongue—he pulled away.

She bobbed slightly with the release of her mouth, her bruised lips creasing down.

 

They stayed close to one another, his arms over hers; Trapped where they had been trying to lift her tank top.

 

“Please continue.” He said in a breath. And then she was standing on her own again.

 

Free to move her body, she turned fully to face him as he politely leaned against the bathroom sink, crossing his arms while watching her.

 

He waved a hand at her. “Get back on with what’chu was doin’.”

 

She bit back a smile as a chuckled breath escaped her nostrils. Turned around, she removed the tank top, leaving just her bra. She quirked an eyebrow, loosely looking over her shoulder. “Can I get a hand?”

 

“Attached or severed?” He asked, quick with and not even budging from his spot.

 

She pursed her lips, looking up. She really didn’t mind if he dragged this out. The party didn’t start till 9; Though she’ll need him presentable when she debuts him.

“Attached.” She finally answered seriously.

 

He perked up off his wall, “Hey, I got two of those.”

 

She laughed, her tone challenging, “Could you do it with one?” 

“Shoot, I could do it with my teeth.”

 

She swung around, surprise overriding her motives. “Really?”

 

He grimaced then, reaching to rub the back of his head. “Eh… I could… when I was 17.” He kept thinking, “And still at 25, and 30. Hell, maybe even one time when I was 80, if I hadn’t drunk too much that night.” He lowered his hand, refixing his gaze on Lucy.

 

 She was looking at him with adoration. Really looking at him, not everything about him, just him—She’s talking.

 

“You could do it by 17?” She was astonished; she herself had been sexually active since she was 15, but Chet never got any better with her bra, and she definitely wasn’t any level of skilled by 17.

 

Cooper laughed. “Uh, yeah… I s’pose at one point in my life, I’da lied to you. Claiming to be a stud, but in reality… I practiced on my neighbor Randy.”

 

She giggled, hiding a smile behind the back of her hand. “Really?” 

 

Cooper smirked, stepping closer to place his lips on hers. “Mmmhmm,” he moaned against her before pulling away.

 “Randy got good at it, too.”

 

Lucy laughed out loud this time, throwing her head back.

 This was nice.

 

This was REAL. Lucy feels like she’s already done this with him a million times, except this time she feels in control, and Cooper isn’t fearing for his life or hers. 

He’s just here—home—with her, and it’s about time.

 

Cooper's smile suddenly fell into a scowl. “Are we taking this shower or not?” he snarked. 

Lucy rolled her eyes at him, and his perfect timing regarding introspective moments.

“Move away, please.” She swatted him, forcing him back with as much cavalier attitude as he had moments ago.  

 

Cooper stepped back smugly. Getting comfortable as he watched her quickly disrobe this time. Her prone body had gained some weight since he’d last seen her, the softness around her midsection indicating the exit of survival mode. 

 

She bent down to unlace her boots, the round curvature of her behind tempting him forward to be in her suited cleft. The boots were kicked off, the leather and heavy soles thudding against the baseboard of the bathroom.

She shrank nearly two inches as she bent down one more time, removing the bottom half of her jumpsuit and underwear all in one. Standing straight, her brown hair swept across her shoulder blades as she slid the shower curtain to the side, quickly stepping in.

The divide was closed, and the shower turned on.

 

He hadn’t paid any attention to the mirror since coming in here, but now, alone…

 Misery loved company.

 

Ghoul met Ghoul in the looking glass.

 

Hmmhm. He thought, taking in the rough edges of his undead visage. 

 

He doesn’t know what exactly he thought he was going to see, but this is…. technically right.

 

Now with an opportunity to look at himself, as is…he realizes he sees a bit more of his old face than he used to.

I suppose ripples of water and rusted metal weren’t the best sources for confidence.

 

The warped reflections over the years seem to have altered his mind when considering what he truly looked like. More monster than man. But in a true mirror, his jaw was clearly the same as before, but with fewer lines; Because his scarred skin couldn’t hold wisdom for shit.

 

 I’m bald too, but he was almost bald back then. 

Hey—

 

He wasn’t Cooper Howard handsome, but he guessed he made a striking ghoul.

I guess.

 

“The waters great.” He heard from over the rod— “mmmmm.”

 

And then she fucking moans—he grips the counter. 

 

Steam had begun to form, the mirror fading out as if the universe was telling him he had enough time to look at himself.

 

This is it.

 

Halfway between the bathroom and the main room, Cooper drapes his jacket on the back of a chair. Sitting to pull off his boots.

 

This is it.

 

He peeled crusty socks from his feet and then was kind enough to throw them away. He’s sure there are new ones around here somewhere.

Elbows on his knees, he was bent in concentration, focused on the entrance to the restroom. 

 

This is it.

 

He stood up sharp, hands finding his belt, so fingers could dance with the buckle. With a small hop and a shake of his leg later, he was free from his pants. Back again in his vault–issued–boxers. Curtesy of Jerry.

 

This is it.

 

In his once bright blue long-sleeve shirt and no pants. He looked like he could be cast in ‘Donald Duck goes west.’ Numb fingers moved for his buttons. There were only 3 left that worked, which means he needed to take his time. Next, Similar to Lucy in the tight confines earlier, his shoulder pops out, one by one. It then slid off, without much assistance, before being placed on top of his jacket.

 

This is it.

 

T-shirt, boxers, just two things he thought, striding back for the bathroom.

 

This is it.

 

He reached behind his collar to lift the shirt over his head in one pull, quickly dropping it to the side.

 

This is it.

 

Eyes focused on the blue and yellow plastic separating him from the best thing he’s had since they could slice bread. His thumbs slid under his waistband, and he bent down.

The garment slid down jagged calves, pooling at his feet. 

He stood up and stepped out.

 

This is it.

His left hand reached out for the curtain. Metal scraping metal is heard as he slides the piece to the side. 

 

Lucy is under the water, hands gently massaging soap into her scalp. She doesn’t look at him.

 

Ahh, yeah, this is it, Cooper thought, sliding in behind her, as a swell of heat filled his chest. He’s glad she didn’t spare him a glance. 

He’s here to do a job. He can’t wash her back if she’s facing him.

 

“The loofa is hanging on the wall behind you.” She said, tilting her head back to give her hair a final looking rinse.

 

He twisted, catching sight of the pink poof ball. Grabbing it, he looked around, finding the body wash dispenser displayed on the wall.

Dislodging a glob of the substance with a firm pump and he then raised it past Lucy’s head.

 

Her eyes caught sight of the arm moving past her, and she tilted slightly to the side, allowing his access to the water. The second water touched his skin; another wave of satisfaction had collided with him. 

Churning back and forth, he wet the frill of fabric. Flexing his hand, so suds could form beneath his fingers.

 

Lucy looked down at the water disappearing at the bottom of the tub. She licked her lips before softly turning her chin over her shoulder.

 

His eyes caught on to her movement immediately.

 

Streams of water cascaded down the curve of her pursed cheeks, moving around the large eyes that bore deep into him.

Her gaze fluttered away dreamingly as a little perk of her lips overtook her features.

She turned around.

 

He didn’t smile, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t happy. Looking down at his shifting weight, he watched water and soap swirl around his toes on the blue and yellow tile.

 

Alright.

 

He brought the frilly business back to her, pressing it to her spotted back.

She straightened, feeling the pressure of his set task. “Mmmm,” she sighed softly, lulling her head down in content. The lightly rough-textured textile scratched satisfactorily along her elongated back from the stretch of her neck to the swift shift of her hips—

 

Cooper danced the loofa against her skin like an artist with canvas, admiring her form and the blemishes that’d been strewn across her body in unexplained places.

Suds bloomed and dissipated as she swayed under rainfall. Her arms were tucked behind her back, moving away when he would caress the flank they rested upon.

He watched her left ear with a hard focus as his hand drifted to swipe the sudsy ball under the whole cleft of her ample ass—

 

She gasped as the sudden swipe sensation activated her region—Head lifting but not turning her attention,  she arched her back, moving closer to encourage him further.

Her little moan woke him up to the activity taking place, his member twitching in an undisclosed anticipation. He bit his lip in a self-satisfied smirk, pulling back with a decision to add more soap to his tool.

 

Lucy caught sight of the action and twisted to intercept. Two pumps of body soap were all that were allowed per person. She silently took the loofa from his hand, turning to face him fully.

Her eyes stayed on his face, watching his own drift down her body to see her front on full display.

 

Her skin had more visible damage from the front; the line beneath her rib cage was thick and angry, signaling that it was her wedding night souvenir. Still—

She was perfect.

 

Her peaks swept the water away from her body, creating twin waterfalls surrounded by wet ribbons that unfurled down her shoulders, softly caressing her thighs with a pouring that pooled in the sponge of curls covering her pleasure center —

The element touched her in a way he wished he could, different from the dirt he was.

 

“Your turn.” She said, breaking him from the appreciative to deprecative reverie.

She directed his body, demanding he move underneath the water.

He wasn’t given much time to think about the next segment of their bathing as he mindlessly let the showerhead do its best against him. Dirt—

 

“Face the handle.” She said plainly. Her eyes were focused on the two pumps she performed on the soap dispenser.

 

He blinked a few times, turning to stare at his reflection in the silver chrome. Wiggly and warped, she completely disappeared behind him. Only noticeable by the new scratch of fabric that met the middle of his back.

 

He knew how intently he had to stare at her to make such precise movements along her back, and that she must be doing the same. His stomach twisted, knowing his front was still theoretically a mystery, but all damage from behind would be on full display, then he thanked god silently that this intimate moment relied on him not looking at her looking at him. 

He lifted his hands to greedily slap the water already streaming down his face. He rubbed at his tired expression. Unfortunately formed by his own inability to enjoy being washed. Exhaling through his exposed nose hole, he rocked his head back and forth underneath the pulsing rainfall. 

 

Lucy's cheeks soured as she pressed her lips together. She’d struggle to imagine it, and now she understood why. The soapy floof lightly moved through his body, deep mountains of scar tissue dropping off dramatically into caverns where he should be. She realizes now how much his layered ensemble gave the illusion of a complete man. 

Heat formed along her face, as a pin-prick feeling wanted to pinch her features together.

In pity, she admits.

It was hard not to ache over the evidence of the hurt her person had endured.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, pushing her mind to instead enjoy the elation of what she was seeing meant.

That he trusted her.

And that was beautiful. 

 

With her free hand, she wiped away the stray tear that wanted to slip from the reddening rims of her eyes. She could see the tension in his shoulders and thought better of stretching this out when he could be enjoying his first shower in a long time.

 

Cooper felt breasts press against his back, and a cheek rest against his left shoulder blade muscle. Arms then wrapped around his middle.

 Surprisingly, he felt himself relax, as he lightly twisted to see her.

She stood up, eyes meeting his.

She looked as she did before, but now, with a hint of redness forming in the brim of her eyes; he couldn’t tell if she’d been crying or if she had succumbed to soap in her sight from when she was pressed against his back.

She leaned back down, placing a quick kiss against the tough skin. 

He sadly didn’t feel much sensation other than the mental observation that that’s what she had done—

She stood straight again, her arms squeezing him before letting go.

 

“Your back is clean.” She said thickly. She gestured towards the exit of the shower with a light flick of her chin. “Enjoy the rest of your shower. I’ll be waiting for you in bed.”

 

In bed?

“Okay.” He mumbled just as she was halfway out of the shower. 

No discussion?

He was silently pleased. Looking forward again, the shower felt as if it had grown expediently around him.

Phew. Though —Yet again, he was saved by Lucy’s annoying ability to read him.

 

He turned toward the wall of soaps and took two, three, four–he took an abundance of shampoo.

Cause The Ghoul does what The Ghoul wants, he thought, slathering his dry scalp in the thick substance.

 

Lucy towel-dried her hair as she walked closer to her bed.

 

She lowered her arms, casting a long look at the steam drifting from the opening to the bathroom.

 

Maybe I’m rushing this…Rushing what exactly? She wondered. Because it's not as if they’ve discussed what his return even means. Or if this encounter, now, implied anything sexual. 

 

She sighed, setting the towel down across the dining table. 

Shifting the softness of her robe closer to her body, she studied the bed, wondering how exactly she should be ‘in bed’ when he came out.

She removed her robe, bending to slide along the comforter.

Our bed.

 

She rolled over naked, staring at the ceiling. 

Emitting a heavy groan, lean muscles twinged with her over–arching back as arms stretched over her head, exposing hairy pits to the world. They’d been the least of her worries since returning to vault life, and Cooper didn’t seem to notice or care. 

 

Next came a breath she hadn’t realized she’d taken in. Her bareback hits the mattress with a soft bounce.

 

She hopes she isn’t rushing him, while secretly hoping that when he came out here, he would rush at her. To push her down into the bed and ravish her with the same passion as their tangled dance, all those…God…years ago.

 

She rolled over, fingers combing through her hair as she bent a knee to keep her side posture upright. She studied the bathroom entrance some more before sweeping the area with a long arm along the bedspread, trying to find the perfect position.

Was this sexy?

 

She rolled back over, hands rubbing down her face. Was she supposed to be sexy?

Should I be under the covers?

 

The water turned off.

 

Her head shot up, eyes wide, as she moved quickly, scrambling even faster for her tossed aside robe. She heard the rings of the shower slide against its pole.

 

She stood up hastily, putting her covering back on, the tie securely fastened just as he came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped firmly around his hips.

 

Her eyes widened, taking in the first outward action he’d taken to show himself to her, his torso logically matched the terrain his back had hinted towards, with more scars similar to the one she had under her ribs, peppered around him. She watched as his left hand swept out, her eyes surprised to find his aggravated face.

“You call that being in bed?”

 

Her crooked eyebrows turned to the bed as she bent her knees in a whine, “I didn’t know how to pose—”

“Bein’ in the bed is step one,” He said, with a point up. 

 

She rolled her eyes as he stepped forward, reaching for the belt of her robe.  

Lucy shuffled closer, colliding with his wet torso.

 

She looked up, her palms resting against his exposed pecs. “I didn’t know how to be sexy.”

 

Anxious hands found hers, not to push them away but to keep them from making full weighted contact for too long. He quirked his browline and scoffed, 

“Pshhh,” He tilted his chin up.  “You could lead a course.”

 

She beamed.

 

“I do love to teach,” she said with a wiggle of her perfect, lined brows, letting him gently sway her to the side.

 

He kissed her with a soft lean forward.

 

Pushing her backward, he inevitably assisted gravity as she purposely fell onto the bed, ending their contact.

She bounced in the middle of the mattress, her legs spreading wildly as the robe around her loosened to hang off her shoulder. 

 

Wet hair fell forward in front of hungry eyes.

She was eating him up, tracing his broad shoulders as he stood strong before her, his heavy lids studying their way down her heaving chest, as it pulsed under the opening of her robe.

 

Yellow teeth broke into a sly side smirk as he lifted his thumb to bite at. “See,” he clicked his teeth, throwing his hand down to gesture at her body. “I’m all hot for teacher right now…”

 

She giggled, nearly biting her tongue as she shifted farther back on the bed, overjoyed, when he suddenly bent down to slowly crawl over her body.

 

She was breathing heavily between them, heart thundering as he settled himself between her legs.

His head bent down, and she fell fully against the mattress as his mouth sought her soul through her own.

 

“Ugh,” she grunted, opening her mouth as he rested his ‘full’ weight on top of her. Allowing his tongue to opportunistically make its way into hers.

 

She was aching to take him in. 

“I can feel you.” He said gruffly, pulling away from her lips. “The heat from between your legs,” he clarified.

 

His right arm supported him as his left reached the fabric between them. Fiddling only seconds before he found the skin of her thigh, scrunching up her coverings.

 

 “Mmmphhh,” she whined, biting her bottom lip as his breath hit the side of her cheek, and rough fingers touched the inside of her thighs. 

 

Next thing she knew, he was thrusting his hard length to her now exposed center, only still separated by the towel coming more undone by the minute. A moan was ripped from her body—

“Can you feel me?” he purred, right arm slipping under her arching back.

 

“Yes!” she shouted, arms flying up to pull him closer—

 

He bent forward, lips locking to her neck, tongue writing “Property of Cooper Howard” against her skin.

 

Lucy rutted against him, moaning in a sweet melody as his hips ground into her in a madding force.

 

His left-hand fingers left the comfort of nearly being threaded in her pubic hair and began swiping away the opening of his towel.

He gripped his hard, HARD member.

Fuck—

He gave himself an indulgent pump, something he hadn’t recalled doing in a very long time.

A very long fuckin’ time—

 

He moved himself enough that his tip pressed firmly against her hood, forcing him to release her with a desperate bid for breath, thankful for the concentrated goo he’d ingested an hour earlier as he groaned into her now gasping mouth.

He looked down at her face. He was going pretty fast, somewhat worried he’d lose his gumption if he didn’t giddy on up, however

He quickly rushed out, low in worry—“Am I goin’ to fast—”

 

“NO!” she shouted, forcing him back down to meet his lips.

 

He murmured against her mouth as he tried to catch himself from crushing her. A sly smirk played against his lips as her tongue tried to jam itself past. He continued moving his cock towards his end goal—maybe sliding home was still too fast, but he was sure Lucy would let him know if that proved to be true.  

 

He prods her hole, settling more comfortably as she shifts her hips to facilitate his further forward movement.

And further he went.

 

Lucy shuddered as the first inch breached, her eyes opening to find his own hazel staring at her. His face was tight with concentration as he moved forward another agonizing inch.

 

“Huhh!” she gasped, feeling a sudden ridge line pop past her entrances, rubbing along the upper wall of her cavity as his length continued to stretch her—“

Lucy squeaked, “Ugh—” Her stomach tightened as another line entered her. “Cooper—” she stuttered.  

 

He snapped his hips, slamming his remaining length into her, with three more ribs breaking forward before she could even register them.

“Mmmm, yes, darlin?” he moaned as his head fell forward into the crook of her neck.

 

Lucy's hands once again tucked behind his head, as his weight rested on top of her, inside her, her…one with her.

His arms reached up to curl under her back, hugging her tight against him.

They lie together, their hips gently rocking back and forth, as they learn how to be connected.

 

Lucy kept her eyes shut, fingers gently caressing the back of his head as she played around him, her inner muscles shifting back and forth in a kegally trained flex routine.

Cooper felt it all, every conscious squeeze around him, her heat intensely melting the white hot buzz pooling in his abdomen.

He flexed his own appendage, pretty damn pleased with himself when she shuddered beneath him, grinding her hips against his intruding shaft.

 

“Fuck.” She moaned.

 

“Language.” He snapped, lifting his head and pulling out sharply.

 

She gasped when his hips roughly brought his cock back to glide into her wet slit.

“Ohhh… fuck!” she shouted—-against her will, honestly, as he started to buck with abandon.

 

“That’s it, sweetheart!” He leaned up, arms in a push-up as he shifted his cock’s angle to penetrate her at a more rabid pace. 

 

“Enjoy my cock—” the ridges were brutally rubbing her g-spot, bursting pleasure through her entire cavity as she gripped his aching member, pulling him deeper into her—

“Take it,” He groaned, secretly not impressed by his own dirty talk, but here we are.

 

“Yes, yes, yes—” she whined, her hands leaving his head, falling to her own hair and gripping it by the roots. Her swollen lips took him pound for pound, egar muscles contracting and releasing as his erection knocked on her internal door. Attempting to deliver a package. 

Okie Dokie, Okie Dokie, Okie Dokie

 

The movement had shifted her robe more open, exposing one of her breasts and a light brown, perky pearl of a nipple.

“Oh,” he said, sounding pained. 

His position kept him from being able to fuck her and take her in his mouth, so he wetted his pout, his pleasured expression finding her open eyes.

 

That won’t do, he thought, moving to grip her wrists tightly above her head.

“If your eyes are open, I’m not fucking you hard enough.” 

He said it through gritted teeth before settling his chest closer to hers and thrusting into her with a stronger force than he had before.

 

Her eyes screwed shut, eyebrows knitting together in a blissful curiosity. She mewled little noises into his ear. Her entrance was getting tighter, a building pool forming low as the nerves of her mound burst around his thick muscle.

 

He brought his lips to her, thirsty for her.

She moaned into his mouth, their tongues once again eagerly shaking hands.

 

She was close, so close,

“I’m close.” She managed to say through a swallowed gulp of their mixed saliva.

 

“Uhhhh,” her head and eyes rolled back, while Cooper made sure to keep the pace he’d been working.  So so ready to feel her cum around him. 

 

He was sweaty—surprisingly, as he thought his glands had dried up ages ago. But the tension of her cunt around his throbbing manhood drove him forward again and again with need. With want. With a dizzying amount of delightful desire as his ball sack continues to smack against her bottom cheeks.  

“My perfect, perfect little killer, cum for me, darlin. Come undone, darlin—”

 

A long, tonal moan broke his command. Her jaw falls open as she rides the wave, the shore, splashing in her center. Rocking his boat within her.

She toppled over mentally,  sucking in a desperate breath as the final string of pleasure burst from her.

 

Cooper finally slowed his movements as her last squeeze around him was weaker than the one before it.

 

Bliss embraced her. His humping hips kept their stroke along her slickened walls, rubbing raw with ridges and length—

“Uh.” She finally released a long exhale, her once-tense shoulders melting into the mattress as he hovered above her.

 

“Ya’ll right?” he asked, leaning down to press quick kisses down the side of her face, to her sweaty collarbone as he kept gently fucking her. 

 

“Mmmm? Mmhmmm,” she nodded, “Yeah.” She mumbled tiredly.

 

“Good.” He mouthed into her skin, his weight falling lower as he gripped her around her shoulders and quickly rolled to his back.

 

Lucy gasped, her legs reseating themselves as they now supported her upright, sitting perfectly in place on his still erect member.

 

He leaned his arms up, tucking them under his head to look up at the disheveled woman on top of him. 

 

Both shoulders were exposed to the air now; only one side of the robe was still hanging from the remaining covered peak.

 

She rolled her hips, feeling slightly stiff in movement by the tightly tucked robe still barely tied around her. She looked down at The Ghoul, whose eyes twinkled in their admiration.

 

She reached for the belt, moving to fully open and removed the garment. 

With the clothing tossed to the side, the only thing covering his decency was her, and the only thing saving her decency was her total lack of shame to begin with. 

She was fully nude, sat upon his hot cock, and it was the most erotic image The Ghoul thinks he’s ever seen.

 

His scar tissue and parts that didn’t first belong to him were all pushed out of his mind, because at this moment they were one, and nothing about Lucy could ever be described as ugly.

 

She was looking at him, pupils completely bloomed black as she rested her hands on his chest. She hadn’t begun to move, looking at him for a subtle sign of approval.

 

He nodded, hands still casually poised behind his head. “Ride me, cowgirl.”

 

She smiled, lifting her hips to release him from her hold.

 

His eyes fell shut from the blissfully lacking sensation, releasing a breathy moan when she was suddenly engulfing him again.

“Mmffff,” he exhaled through his gaping nose hole, His bottom lip getting trapped between his lips as she worked herself up and down his appendage.

It was good, and it was clearly for her, her own rhythm that she began moaning into to find her next orgasm. She pressed hard on his stomach to anchor herself, and he loved it, flexing his thighs to help meet her thrust for thrust.

God, yes, lord help me. He thought, lost in all the sauce.

 

He’d known she’d be good at this, their rough and tough tangle had hinted at that long ago, and her skills in the simulation must have been based on her muscle memory. But nothing, nothing—beat the real thing.

 

His hands moved to grip her fleshy hips, guiding her effort for a flawless up and down.

 

Eyes closed and moaning from the strength of his hands alone, her fingers dug into the ridges of flesh along his middle torso—

“Fuck!” He shouted, eyes opening to look at her. 

 

But she clearly wasn’t paying attention to what she was doing. 

She wasn’t paying any attention to him at all. 

 

Feeling the tickle of her fingertips brush the inside of his past pain crevices, sent a sensation wildly down his spine to his desperate member as he curled forward, groaning. 

All while not even looking at me– “Fuck, sweetheart—you’re gonna make me cum—”

 

“Yes, yes!” She rushed out in an eager breath; she wanted him to take what he needed from her.

 

His toes were curling as he wrapped his arms around her torso, pressing his face in between the space of her heaving chest. The scent of her sweat enticed his tongue to swipe the liquid off her skin, slicking it in more ways than the evidence of her effort.

“Where?” he asked in what sounded like a death rattle. He knew where he wanted, but a guy's gotta ask—

 

“Inside!” she shouted, holding him by his crusty head, digging her hips down hard in an agonizing grind and squeezing him—”

“Ugghhhh,” he groaned, leaning her back to fuck up into her with controlled strength, rhythm, and pleasure.

 

“mmmm!!” she released a sharp whine, right arm falling back, hand pressing into the mattress to help keep her torso up as he fucked into her, eagerly chasing his release.

 

“Yes, Cooper!”

 

“Say it again—” he begged,

 

“Cooper!” she shouted, knowing exactly what he needed. She always knew what he needed.

“Lucy–” he grunted, face-first into her breasts. His arms thrusting her down in a sweet tandem with a deliberate pulse of power from her dripping entrance. He felt a new rush of liquid drench down to his sack, softly trickling and tickling to his chapped ass—” Huh–” he moaned, his neck falling back, mouth opened for possession as he groaned his spurting release into her. 

 

She wore what could be confused as a pained expression, watching his eyes roll to the back of his head. Absent pressure from her clit radiated through to her g-spot, forcing a trembled quake of her inside walls as she felt his movements become mindless, his hips tripping over themselves in waves as he gripped her, ensuring every drop of himself was as deep as ghoulishly possible. 

 

She exploded then. Leaking in an overflow of feeling, moaning loudly into the room as her brown hair flipped back for her gasp up at the ceiling.

 

 Her arm gave out, her own weight crumpling back, her knees swiped upward, falling from his perch, but caught and adjusted with thoughtful care as he supported her weight and facilitated the stretch of her legs. 

 

He leaned forward, bent awkwardly in half has his gave a final few thrusts into her, now only half inside, as she continued to slide flat between his calves. 

 

She was panting, hands falling to her chest, as she shuddered from aftershocks, and the gentle prodding at her G-spot as he slipped farther and farther away from being seated inside her. 

 

“Oh my god,” she said breathlessly. Feeling the final ridge break free from her hold, then the softening tip, one, two, three times pressed against her hole, before she was fully let down to the bed as he slid slightly back. 

 

He coughed, wiping his sweaty browline. 

“My god is right,” he said finally, a sigh, shrugging his shoulders as he allowed his frame to lean back onto the mattress. 

 

The ghoul couple lay together, her legs propped up over his thighs, feet stopping near his shoulders as his irradiated and burned legs kept her nude form warm, his feet landing above her head and out of view. 

 

After a couple of minutes, Lucy broke the silence. 

 

“That was actually worth the wait.”

 

Cooper’s head shot up, “What?” 

He moved, sitting up on his forearms. “Was that in question?” 

 

Still flat on her back, she quickly waved a hand between them. “No, no, no! I was just thinking about my wedding night; How I couldn’t wait to sleep with someone new, even though the ‘New–’” she gave a one-handed air quote, “–was going to last forever no matter what… After we were done, I remember lying there smiling when I…really didn't want to.”

 

He held her gaze, watching as she once again waved a hand towards him, “Oh, um, and can you refrain from wiping your balls on my curtains–”

He sat up fully, leaning forward, “Don’t wipe my–I’m from the south, not a barn!”

 

She weighed the air around her in a side-to-side defense. “You don’t know what should be mentioned till it’s too late sometimes–”

“You’re bad at pillow talk. You’re supposed to be cuddlin’ me and shit. Tellin’ me how good I did.” 

 

Her eyebrows quickly wrinkled, a soft voice escaping her lips, “Would you like that?”

 

He rolled his eyes with a quick shaking of his head, “Get under the covers.” He ordered, grabbing her hand to pull her forward as he fell back.

 

She shuffled above the covers with him as they shifted under the quilted blanket. 

 

Moving together silently, Lucy turned onto her right side as Cooper's body cradled her from behind. 

 

They settled down again, this time skin to skin, under a layer that protected them from the world around. 

Notes:

A line of dialogue in here came directly from Walton Goggins' Series, 'The Unicorn'
Have you seen that show? Did you recognize the line?

Chapter 27: Where is Hank? ... Doon't care.

Notes:

Trigger warning for tough topics and conversations regarding suicide. I hope everyone is doing well. Please enjoy.

Cooper stared down at the blue and yellow jumpsuit in his hands. So it’s come to this.

Dull eyes cast a long look in the direction of the humming at the end of the bed. 'Our bed,’ she had said, while brushing her barely damp sex hair. Now, she was putting on boots, tightening the laces with a rough pull.

Releasing a long exhale, he glanced back at the clothes. Full fucking circle. But she had a point; If he were going to stay here, and well, why the hell wouldn’t I?  He was going to have to wear something different. ‘Something clean’, she’d said—He shakes his head, quickly dispelling her voice. I can think for myself.

The fabric drops from his grip as he bends down, stepping into the first leg and then the next. With a swift pull up from the zipper, he stops at the waist, choosing to tie off the arms. At least this would add some variety. Guess not all’s the same, he thought now regarding the mutt. When he earlier voiced his concern for Dogmeat being cast out, Lucy promptly gave him a perplexed look.

Apparently, she had no intention of kicking out the dog. Vault rules be damned.

Turning back, he watches as she finishes the bow on her last boot, newly kept hair flipping over her shoulders as she sat back up, and as if sensing his gaze, brown eyes flutter over her shoulder to find his.

He gulps, swallowing the dread thickly coating his throat. He supposes he needed to tell her sooner rather than later. She would bring it up eventually, and he’d prefer to be the one steering the conversation....Or, maybe he could wait—She smiled at him.

Shit.

He had to tell her, and it made his stomach churn.

Taking a deep breath, he gave her a fixed look. Don’t overthink this.

“I was going to kill myself.” The six words drained him as they filled the room.

Lucy’s brows drew together as she quickly looked away.  Scanning the rug beneath her boots, her fingers curled into the bedspread—And he still….

Sudden red rimmed eyes snap back in his direction, throwing him back a smidge. “And you still didn’t say goodbye?” Oh, how he wished she were angry, because the blistering hurt instead was plain immobilizing. She got up to move closer.

Avoiding eye contact until she was within arm’s reach, he forced a dismissive shrug. “You would have tried to stop me—”

“Of course I would have!”

“Well, I didn’t want that!” he shouts, pointing to himself— “I still don’t want that—"

“And it’s only about what you want?” she snaps.

Cooper rolled his eyes. Jesus, she really saddled her horse to the wrong 200-year-old.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me—”

He walks away from her, the pads of his socked toes gliding across linoleum towards his new boots. “Don’t bother with the life is worth living spiel, your counterpart already ripped me a new one.”

Attempting to squash her budding headache, which most likely stemmed from her intensely clenched jaw, Lucy pinches the bridge of her nose. “Who are you even talking about—”

“Marcus,” he answered, falling into the dining room chair to dress his feet.

Lucy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before crossing her arms. The general disregard for her feelings was something she felt less comfortable with as her days continued, but watching the rise and fall of his back as he attempted to control his breathing painfully reminded her— He’s been hurting longer.

Her pursed lips swam back and forth as she surveyed the room. Okay…She’s trained for this. Plenty of vault inhabitants commit suicide. Partners learn to tend to these needs just like any other.

She moves forward, decidingly plopping into the chair next to him.

He finishes his last knot, sitting straight to look at her. She was frowning, staring blankly at the tabletop. Clearly, she’s thinking too much about this. He looked away with a heavy sigh. “Don’t take it personal—”

“I don’t,” Lucy said quickly, eyes locking onto his wide ones. She really didn’t.

“Oh,” he uttered, before falling quiet. It’s not that he wanted her to blame herself, but he had expected some sort of conversation involving making her feel better.

Lucy watches his features move in and out of certainty, the endearing expressions melting her cold interior. She relaxes back in her seat. 

Despite marriage therapy books preparing her for this, she hadn’t anticipated it. But that’s kind of the whole point of IT to begin with.

She opened her mouth to speak before promptly closing it again. She thinks that if she understood him more, then she could know how to help. Instead of being at a loss.

Cooper thinks, if he stays silent long enough, they’ll skip the whole conversation.

Hence the staring competition.

She finally finds her voice. “Please don’t think I’m not happy, but why did you come back?”

He slouches. “Marcus talked me down,” he said annoyed.

Lucy nods. That made sense — “Marcus is old too, he must have understood?”

Cooper huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. Old— “No” 

“What?” Lucy gasps. She would have assumed that Marcus dealt with plenty of woeful souls during his time as a leader.

 “I know!” Cooper thrust out an aggravated hand, “He pretended to be stupid. Acting like wanting to go after 200 years is a wild concept.” He leans back in his chair.

 A small flutter fills her core, seeing him relax, even if it was while describing ending it all. She chimes in again, attempting to level with The Ghoul, “Come on, even I admit I don’t know how I’ll feel in 200 years,” she laughs.

He smirks, studying her tired, trying expression. He was happy to laugh about this with her, but sitting with her comment long enough filled him with a bitter truth; Lucy was like Marcus.

He suddenly broke their agreed-upon amusement with a shake of his head.  

“Nah, you’ll have found a purpose. I know it.”

Lucy looks up earnestly. “You think so?” She’d been feeling lost since growing out of her upbringing. Left directionless, with every day another worry about her future—

“Yeah, sweetheart, you’re gonna figure it out. You got so much time.” Even if being a ghoul hadn’t extended her life, Lucy was barely 30. Or was it just 30? It didn’t matter. In human and ghoul years, she’s got time.

Lucy smiles, settling back down before mentally kicking herself. Dang it. I made this about me.

Cooper sat silently, watching tense air dissipate around her.  While Lucy flipped through her mental manuals. Finally, she hooked onto something he said. Something she could work with.

She tilts her head. “So…You feel you’ve lost your purpose?” 

He frowns, and it brings a small quirk to her lips. Bingo.

 He looks down, his right thumb flicking along the rough edges of the other. “I didn’t lose it...” He grumbles, “Just found out where it was, is all.”

Lucy looks at his hands. “Janey was here.” She said next, wondering if he already knew or if she’d made a mistake sleeping with him before disclosing that piece of information.

He still didn’t look at her, just lightly bobbed his head. “Yeah, I know.”

Now she really didn’t know what to say; if he knew, what exactly was the problem? Running out of marriage material, she decides to leap into action. Quickly out of her seat, she rushes for her right-side nightstand table.

Cooper watched with interest, eyes boring deep into the book she pulled free from the accent piece.

She brought it over and set it down in front of him

The Ghoul looks down and reads:

Color! Plant guide volume two.

Wide eyes snap to Lucy. His stomach twists, memories flooding his mind. Janey was a budding botanist; her love for plants, just above her love for animals.

Lucy flipped the title, showcasing the first inside page.

Cooper looks back down.

This book belongs to:

Janey Howard

 

Hank said she’d be here, but tangible evidence hit different—“This was hers,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

Lucy nodded numbly before saying with a swallow, “And my mom’s.

He looked at her again.

Wooden legs scrape across the floor as she scoots her chair closer. She sits down to look over his forearm and flip to a bookmarked page.

Cooper studies the detailed additions to the page, finding “Rose's” Birth and Death dates.

 “This was passed down through the generations of my family. Each woman is named after one of these pages.” She flipped through some more, thick paper crinkling under her soft touch as she suddenly laughed, “The boys are too,” she said, stopping at the back of the book. “My cousin Chet was named after a blackberry.”

Cooper looks at her downturned expression, wondering how Janey’s book came into the possession of Lucy's ancestors. Does that mean she lived back then? Does that mean she’s not living now?

Fine with the attention off himself, he spoke through an amused snort, “What kind of fruit is ‘Norman’?”

She frowns, which makes him frown. Lucy had been upset to find that Norm was nowhere in the book. More upset than her brother. “He doesn’t have an entry.” 

Looking back at the nimble fingers lightly flipping through pages, he wonders out loud. “What about Lucy?”

She sits up straighter, suddenly turning with purpose, then stopping to push the book closer.

He looks down again.

The name was Lilly MacLean, and it’d been aggressively crossed out with Lucy crudely spelled above it.

He scowls, reading the page over, to find the birthdate at the bottom.

“This your birthday?” he asked with a point to the paper.

Lucy nods blankly, looking away into the distance.

He rubbed at his chin, “Why is your name Lucy?”

Her red-rimmed eyes found him in an instant.

Right. He thought, sitting back in his seat.

“Where is your Daddy?”

 

 

---

 

 

They were moments from turning into Vault 33’s common area, Cooper’s hand growing heavier in Lucy’s with each step forward.

She turns to look at him as a roar of laughter erupts from around the corner.

“Everyone here is super nice,” she said.

He rolled his eyes and pointed to himself. “Yeah, but I’m not,” and he doesn’t know if he can keep a straight face around oohs and awes of vault dwellers.

Lucy mockingly rolls her own eyes. “You’re nice when you want to be.”

He bent his knees, speaking through his teeth, “And how often is that?”

Lucy ignores him this time, pulling him by the arm. “Come on,” she groans.

The Ghoul slows their progression, but was soon blinded by the artificial sun cast over the corn field. Just as she’d described. His hand shot out, blocking the glare and the visual of the quickly quieting room.

Lucy's eyes scan the crowd, feeling her own anxiety. She’d been ill-prepared for everyone being so flippin’ obvious.

Adjusted, yet squinting, Cooper lowers his hand.

“Um,” the girl started, finding the brothers and Norm still tucked in a corner she’d left them.

The room was better prepared for the party than when she’d seen it; only 3 more hours until the festivities were due to start.

Suddenly breaking from a startled parting in the crowd was a happy dog.

“Hey!” Cooper thundered, surprising Lucy and the other 33’ers in the process. “How ya been, Dogmeat?” he said, letting loose of the girl’s hand to meet the four-legged companion below.

Lucy smiled. Dogmeat was fond of her, but she hadn’t been the same without Cooper nearby. The cowboy seemed to have a way with the beast.

He was scratching the dog's neck, thankful for something else to focus on while Lucy figured out how the hell she wanted to address the room. He had no problem leaving without a single introduction. “Everyone…” he heard her say, earning his attention back to the people slowly inching their way forward.

Lucy gestures down at the man. “This is Cooper, my husband.” People in the vault were about tradition, so the title would instantly spark a welcoming tone. I hope. 

Faces opened almost immediately, the reserve and hesitation wearing off as they gathered around at a quicker, more confident pace.

Cooper stood, coming face to face with a handful of people who didn’t understand the concept of personal space. Probably a side effect of a vault upbringing.

First up to speak was a man taller than The Ghoul, his hand placed on his chest in greeting, “I’m Gavin—” “Cassandra!” a woman beside him included, with a firm point up. A third person, shorter than the other two, chimed in, skipping their name. “You must be the man who brought our Lucy home.”

“Thank you!” said a disembodied voice.

Gavin started speaking again, “Glad you came back. She was clearly a mess without you.”

Lucy’s brow furrowed, “Clearly?” she mutters.

Cooper suddenly finds his hand in another's; Someone bolder in the group gripped him in a firm handshake. The Ghoul barely had time to return the gesture when the man let go to brush the palm of his hand down his pant leg. “Oh… you’re a… warm fella,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

Lucy grinned up at Cooper, ecstatic and grateful for her people and their unwavering kindness. She grabs ahold of the quiet Ghouls' right bicep, readdressing the crowd and their onslaught of questions, “Has anyone seen my dad?”

A handful of no’s chorused around with a few offering their eyewitness statements, “Not since this morning,” was the consensus.

“Oh well…” Lucy trails off, finding Norman walking up behind the crowd, his face unreadable. The knight's brothers stay behind in their corner, not interested in a reintroduction with the bounty hunter.

 She looks back at the crowd and smiles. “We need to find him, I promise Cooper, and I will be attending the dance tonight—”

“I’m sorry, what?” Cooper said above her.

“We can have more thorough introductions then.”

“Of course.” Said Cassandra, while a few others muttered their understanding, and others lightly bowed their head as they dispersed.

Leaving only…Her brother.

There he stood at 4 ft 11, arms crossed over his chest. He took a few steps forward, tilting his head up in tandem with Cooper's look down. “So this is the guy?” His eyes scan Cooper’s body. He’d heard from Max that the man was a ghoul. He’d just had a tough time conceptualizing that at the time, His sister with this…kind of person. “Are you planning on running away again?” He asks.

Appalled, Lucy made a noise to scold her brother—

Cooper brushed it off. “You must be the little brother. Nosy Norman.”

‘’Cooper!” She gasped. Growing further appalled.

“Sounds like jealousy that I have a nose.” 

Beat red, his sister's head turns quickly in his direction, “Norman—"

Cooper raises his hands to gently cradle her from whiplash. “It’s all good.” He said, releasing her face at the first sign of her original coloring. “Baby-brother's right. Classic projection,” he said with a smirk.

Norm finally breaks into a small smile of his own before looking back to his sister. Who was flustered. He tilts his head. “You’re looking for Dad?” He’d just been thinking to himself not too long ago that absences were unusual for the former overseer and current overbearing father.

She perks up. “Yes, we want to interrogate him.”

Norm gives her a look, “Because that’s worked so well in the past?”

Cooper placed a confident hand on his chest. “I bet ya’ll didn’t do it quite like I can.”

The shorter boy let out an amused huff of air through his taunting nose—

Cooper looks at the two, “Don’t this place got an intercom?” He remembered hearing a man's voice ring through a speaker box in the basement of Vault 97.

Lucy shakes her head, “Ours needs a code to activate it, and it’s mainly used for emergencies.” She looks back at her brother. “I think we can just split up and find him in no time.”

Norm nods. “Worst case scenario, we wait until he shows up at the party tonight.”

“Worst case scenario, I go to a fucking dance, like I’m in high school—”

Lucy rolls her eyes, stepping between the two to push the ghoul away by his chest. “Yes, yes, you’re big and bad, too cool for school—”

Norm cut in, speaking behind her as she backs the taller man out of the room, “I'll take the administration areas.”

Lucy looks over her shoulder, keeping her pace and pushing, “Okie dokie, we’ll take residential.”

Cooper tossed up a thumbs-up at the boy before he and Lucy disappeared from the young MacLean’s view.

 

 

---

 

 

 “Well, that’s every apartment,” Lucy said, frustrated fists finding her hips.

Anyone who was home immediately answered, which gave her another opportunity to quietly introduce Cooper to other inhabitants, but her dad was nowhere to be found.

The Ghoul stands a few steps away, arms crossed as he studies the growingly impatient woman. He’s not surprised that Hank knows how to hide like a cockroach. “Maybe he’s with his boyfriend.” He offers.

Lucy looks up. “What?”

“Bud?” Cooper clarifies.

“Oh,” Was all she said with a look away. We haven’t checked in with Buddy in a—

“Wait, what?” Her head snaps back towards Cooper—

“Lucy!”

Both Ghouls turn in time to see Stephanie running in their direction. 

Without a moment to speak, Stephanie grabs Lucy’s hands.

“Come quick! It’s Norm, he’s been hurt!”

“What? Where?” Lucy was already moving in the direction of the blonde.

“Hold up,” Cooper grumbles. But it was ignored. He moved behind the women with urgency when it became obvious Lucy wasn’t going to think for two God-damn seconds—

In a few short minutes of panicked running fueled by Eye-Patch's refusal to let anyone speak as she rambled out some story, the three ended up in an unmarked corridor.

A simple area Lucy’s never taken in before due to its single use of being a travel apex for the vault.

Cooper turns into the hall after the two women, stopping behind the stunned brunette before seeing the same thing she did.

Norm was on the ground, face down in the metal grates.

Lucy was at his side in an instant, crouching down to find a pulse on her brother’s neck. “Why didn’t you take him to the infirmary—” a boot met her face, twisting her with an ugly snap of her neck. Hunched over, Lucy spits out blood, rotating her tender jaw in her hand. Tears began to well. She looked up in time to see Cooper advancing on Stephanie—Then,

Betty appeared behind him with a gun poised and a silencer attached. She shot him.

“Ugh—” he groaned, but continued forward for the blonde who immediately stepped out of his reach as he was shot again, and again, “Fuck!” His fall felt short, his chin smacking metal in a matter of seconds.

Betty shuffles forward, proceeding to fire more shots into his back until the gun begins to click. Her finger continued to pull the trigger.

“It’s fucking empty,” He growled, faced down with an inability to move.

Lucy scowls, attempting to stand, “What are you doing?” She said through gritted teeth.

Stephanie turns to kick her again, but this time is blocked by Lucy's shielding arms. She, unfortunately, is still rocked backward, forced to the floor.  She grunts out what was left of the air in her lungs, doe eyes following the approaching bodies above her. The lanky woman smiled down. “We’re giving you what you wanted…We’re taking you into Vault 96.”

Lucy stayed still, running through her options. Well, that is sort of what I wanted.

Betty appears next, in her view, “What did you call my ideas again?” she asks through a shaky voice.

The taller woman meets her with her good eye. “I already called it better. Gloating is just beneath you.”

Scornfully, in tandem, they sway their gaze down on Lucy.

 

 

---

 

 

Stephanie had her own gun, fully loaded and pointed at the unconscious MacLean.

She ordered Lucy to shackle her brother's limp form to one of the hallway pipes while Cooper, they assumed, bled out…so they didn’t bother to touch. Though if anyone had been paying attention, Norm most likely—they would have noticed a startling absence of blood.

Once the youngest MacLean had been propped up and attached to the corridor wall, Lucy was told to turn around for her own cold cuffs. Now she sits beside a stirring Norm, looking toward her partner, and anxiously waiting for him to be healed. Playing dead and doing the same, Cooper fights an inward flux of annoyance from listening to the women argue.

“It’s 4472.”

“No, it’s not,” Betty dismisses, inputting 4742 into the button panel.

A red light beeps.

“See,” Stephanie said. The gun she branded became laxer as she placed a hand on her hip.

Betty tries again.

Red light.

 “NO, it's 4742. Do you think Bud changed it?” the older woman asked, turning to the blonde.

Eyepatch shakes her head, “Why would he change it?” She said, growing irritated. “You just need to put in the CORRECT code…which is 4472.”

“No,” the shorter one snaps, sternly moving to try again.

“STOP!” Stephanie shouted, pulling the frail lady’s hand away. “We only get one more try for 3 hours before 96 defenses kick in.”

“That’s not real,” Betty said, turning back to the panel.  She was running through all the codes overseers had to memorize.

The blonde huffs, “It’s in chapter one of 31’s overseer handbook.” She bent closer, “I think I can remember a little better than you, seeing as Alzheimer’s isn’t kicking in.” Eyepatch pointed to her temple.

“Don’t put that shit on me. That is not a joke.” Betty rattled.

Lucy studies the panel where they were attempting to input their code. She was still riding the surprise of watching it appear from behind a false panel in the wall. She can’t believe how obvious the entrance, or at least panel, could have been if anyone had considered looking in the last 200 years.

“mmff” Norm startles awake against the warm pipe.

“Hey, hey…” Lucy whispers to him, “How is your head? Do you understand me?” He had been unconscious for a considerable amount of time.

He grimaced. “She hit my head.”

Lucy frowns, her focus turning back to the scheming women as one speaks with urgency and authority.

“You need to run to the office for your book.” Stephanie directed.

Betty puffed out, gesturing between themselves, “Why me?”

Lucy flinched when the blonde waved her gun directly at her. “If either of those two gets out, you wouldn’t be able to stop them.”

Norm, groggy but seemingly better, chimed in on their conversation. “We’d have to break our wrists with the kind of strength needed to get free.”

Really, Lucy thinks, slouching in her spot as she contemplates other ways to gain an upper hand without losing her hands. 

The two overseers had stared at Norm for a minute before both deciding to continue their conversation without him.

“You can keep this area clear by directing your vault members away.”

Betty sighed, looking at the MacLean children. “You’re right…” She said with a roll of her eyes. “I’ll be back.” She shuffles away.

The youth in the room watch Betty disappear behind a corner.

The blonde smiles, zeroing back on the female Maclean.

Lucy takes a deep breath and releases.

Okie Dokie. You can do this…breaking your wrists, how hard can that be?

 Pretty hard.

Probably doesn’t hurt that bad.

It’s unimaginable.

…

There was a beat of silence.

…

“Okie Dokie,” Lucy hyped again. Out loud this time.

You’ve got this. You can do this. One, Two, Go. Go—

 She sucks in a tight breath.

White flash heat shot up her arms, pins and needles fogging her senses. There was a sound of crunching bones followed by the clang of broken cuffs hitting the pipe.

Every human watches as her hands dangle by skin, a traumatic image of wrists completely snapped off.

“#%43@!”  

“Oh my, $^%#%   @$#”

Several shocked curses came from both observers, unheard by The Ghoul, whose ears were ringing from shock.

“What the hell is the matter with you!” Stephanie finally squealed, covering her mouth with her free hand as her gun, pointing down, was briefly forgotten.

“How did you do that?” Norm said in fascination.

The humans wore similarly wincing expressions as Lucy fought the urge to pass out and tried to lazily snap her tender, flopping hands back into place.

“Stop it.” Her brother pleaded, getting nauseous from the image.

“She break her wrists?” Cooper asks from the ground.

“Jesus Christ!” Stephanie jumps, turning in surprise. Lucy was quick to sweep her leg out. The blonde was brought down to ground, her lips sputtering spit as her own weight crushed her spirit. The brunette quickly straddled the blonde, her hands finding their correct position once again. With the adrenaline from the break, then the ecstasy of them healing. The young Ghoul had the power to quickly disarm Stephanie, pushing the gun far away, in the opposite direction from Cooper.

“GET off!” 32’s overseer said through gritted teeth, throwing a wild punch up in the air. The contact rolls off her cheek with a small pinch to the bone. Lucy grunts before delivering her own punch.

Stephanie’s nose broke. She choked, blood coating her teeth. The blonde's left hand scrambled down her leg to dig in her jumpsuit pocket. Pulled free was a thin needle syringe. She shuffles the device close to her middle, meeting her right hand for it to remove the safety cap.

Lucy, who’d settled her hands on the other woman’s neck, looked down in time to see the point break free and fiercely embedded in her thigh. Eye-patch plunged the mysterious drug into her body.

Lucy and Stephanie both pulled their hands away, one from assault, the other from her weapon.

Ouch. Lucy thought. More annoyed than anything. The prick was long and painfully deep in her muscle, influencing the strength she used to wrap a hand around the base to pull up. She jerked and dropped it to their side, looking back down at the overseer. “What was that?” She asks.

Norm leans over his foot, kicking the syringe to better put it in his view. No label.  

Stephanie looks at Norm with a quick flicker of her good eye. Then back to Lucy. “How are you feeling?” she asked, her brows crinkling.

 Lucy shrugged, also sharing a glance at her brother. “I feel fine.”

“Not even a little tired?”

“No?”

“Hmmm.” Stephanie hums before slowly raising her hands. “I surrender,” She breathes out. She was logically not willing to push Lucy to her seemingly endless limits.

Just then, Betty turned the corner speaking joyfully, “The code is pound, 4742, pound—” Her smile faded, finding their prisoner straddling her fellow seer. The old woman took a step back, stopping from a sudden immovable object appearing behind her. She rocked back and forth as she turned slowly to find Cooper standing tall.

“One—wrong move… and I’ll put you on the ground.” His eyes shone with something, not to be taken lightly.

Betty bitterly looks back at their lost battle.

 

 

---

 

 

Chet opened the door to Vault 32.

After dropping Norm off in the infirmary, where Chet had resided with his kids since early the afternoon…Lucy gave a quick introduction to her cousin and Cooper before asking for his help.

Norm stayed behind to be treated with the kids, while the other three sent Stephanie and Betty to exile.

The two women were already past the threshold, with Stephanie holding her broken nose, and Betty holding herself together as she was removed from her home of 50 years.

Cooper watched from a bench just outside the 33’s larger cavern room. He can’t believe she’s just letting them go. Scratch that. I can believe it. He was just undeniably annoyed by it. An opinion he shared with Norman.

32’s gatekeeper stood with the 33 keys in his grip, the groove of the plastic key chain fitting in his hand, as it had done perfectly, years ago. Betty now held 32’s key, placed in her hand by the tall dweller.

33’s key was turned, and the door began to roll shut. Stephanie gestures for Chet to come, “Let’s go.”, she commands.

Lucy watched as her cousin stayed rooted to his spot.

“No,” he said, a shaky lift of his head was used to emphasize his determination.

The blonde’s eye flared because time was running out.

The man continued turning to softly gaze at Lucy. “I’m staying with my family.”

The female MacLean cringes slightly, giving him a tentative thumbs-up.  In appreciation. Because she’d love for him to stay. Obviously…But as cousins.

Obviously.

Stephanie whines, “But what about our family?” They had kids who looked up to him. Loved him. She relies on him.

Chet cocks his head to the side, slowly pointing behind himself. “I have… the kids?”, he tells her.

Realization dawns on the tall woman’s face before she begins to nod her head. “Oh… Okay.” Her body disappears behind the thick steel.

Betty was last to be covered by the moving door. Her last visible action from the 33 side was her gentle toss of 32’s key back into their vault.

“Wait!” Chet jutted out a hand, but twas in vain.

A loud hiss and clanging crack of the door sealing itself was heard echoing in the chamber.

Cooper watches the blackberry boy rush to the item that had been tossed in.

Lucy stepped back, watching him panic. “What’s wrong—”

“Ughh!” Chet groaned, double-checking that what was in his hands was real. He tosses his head back, staring at the steel ceiling. “This,” he sighs, waving the item in front of her, “Is the only way we could get back into 32.”

Lucy tries to keep up, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, if we ever need to trade or someone wants to visit. 32 doesn’t have a way to open their door.”

 

Lucy felt the stale vault air touch the pooling sweat in her pits. She then felt warm fingers press into her lower back as Cooper settled at her side. “There isn’t a spare?” he asks.

“No,” answers Chet, eyeing the ghoul and his hand placement.

“Well. That’s. Fuckin’. Stupid.” The Ghoul snapped with a mocking twang.

Lucy covers her face and groans, completely missing her cousin’s bristling expression. She wants to be reliable for her vault, and here she is, already messing up.

Cooper rubbed small circles in the fabric of her suit. “Maybe Bud can get it opened,” he offers. The brain had let him back into the vault without an utterance of inability.

She began to nod, yeah, yeah, Bud has a ton of access to things, she thinks. Then weighed the statement.  Expect when it comes to some information, like: “Where’s the entrance to Vault 96?”

She had asked until blue in the face, and every response from him was simply,

“They won’t tell me.”

Chet watches with distaste as the creature in front of him catered to his cousin’s silence.

But like the man in love, he waaas…he’s grateful someone was there for Lucy. Still. He wants to frown. But instead, “Who’s Bud?”

 

 

---

 

 

Stephanie snaps an angry gaze at the older woman. “What were you thinking?” she shouts.

Now she can’t visit her kids. They can’t visit her. And her vault inhabitants can’t see their families at Christmas time.

Betty looks at the blonde in annoyance. She wasn’t thrilled about being stuck here either, but—

“You want this door to open after they find Hank?” she asks.

The younger woman’s mouth opened before closing, watching the woman shuffle deeper into Vault 32.

 

 

---

 

 

After discussing her brother’s head, she’d been relieved to hear he would be okay.

“You’re sure?” she asked Doctor Wetherill.

“Oh yeah. We’ll just keep a close eye on him tonight and tomorrow.”

Lucy nodded, a small smile finding her lips.

“Besides, we all know your brother can afford to lose a few brain cells.” She chuckled.

Her smile turned into a hard look at the doctor.

A sheepish smile took over the Doctor's face, “Sorry.”

Now with Norm in the infirmary and Chet staying behind with the kids,

The party was jumping.

Cooper let himself get pulled around the room before getting to raid the buffet table with the equally ecstatic Brotherhood knights. He admits that the evening had been more enjoyable after the afternoon's antics. Strobe lights moved around the room, sweeping over the group's torsos as they snacked off their little plates.

Max points at Cooper’s chest, where 8 bullet holes peppered it, ruining his white T-shirt. “You got something on your shirt.”

Cooper looked down in time with Max's absent look back around the room.

Before The Ghoul could thank the captain, Lucy ran up, swiping bangs from her excited face. “Come dance with me?” she rushed out, their room was in the middle of a fast song, the beat something he could probably get away with just bouncing to.

Cooper moves his plate into a startled Max’s torso, hardly waiting for his response before letting go of the tiny platter, to follow his gal to the dance floor. He looks around, noticing the ease with which the dense crowd opens around them.

They stopped in the middle, Lucy bringing his attention to her with a gentle hand on his cheek.

He looked at her.  “No one will stare at you.” She shouts over the music. He bent his head, bringing his ear closer to her mouth as she stood on her tiptoes.  “Because everyone knows that’s a rude thing to do.” She clarified and clearly too, with her cupped hand amplifying her voice in his canal, dripping around his eardrum like a soothing honey–Cooper rolls his eyes, standing straight to scan the people around with more determination.

His hazel eyes meet another’s, the color too far to ascertain, even as they widen—The Ghoul snapped his fingers, “HA! I caught one staring,” he said, pointing at the man a few feet away.

“No, I wasn’t!”

She grabs the cowboy’s arm, thrusting it down. He swayed with the motion, accepting her closeness, as she practically giggled into his chest. “Leave my people alone.” She scolds.

He licks his lips. “Make me,” he said—pro*voc*a*tive*ly

She smiles, her toes pushing up to meet his grin in a halfway kiss. When they pull away, Lucy looks down at her hands placed on his chest.

Following her gaze, he catches sight of her nervous fingers.

“Are you going to…you know, leave again?” She asks at a normal volume. Surprisingly, he managed to hear her over the music. 

He takes her hands in his, leaning forward to kiss her forehead and shrug. “I don’t currently plan on it,” he said against her skin.

Lucy moves enough to meet his downturned gaze. “If your plan changes, I want a 24-hour notice.

He pushes her away to thrust an open palm, “Deal.” He smirks—She beamed, taking his hand in hers. After three beats of exchanging in a firm handshake—Lucy pulls him forward, her free hand bringing him down by the nape of his neck to meet her eager mouth.

Cooper's knees bent to meet her at a height she could control, mimicking her hold on his neck by wrapping his arms around her back.

He stood straight, bringing her with him, as he sucked in against her, leaving the room partially oxygen-deficient.

Lucy took an opportunity to breathe when he lifted from the ground. Gasping against his mouth, but quickly regained purpose and pushed her lips against his again. While trying to inhale the other, The Ghoul couple was met with an anxious scent.

Lucy's eyes peek to her left— she pulls away to find Woody and Reg. “Hey, guys?” she said, surprised by their dance–less energy. Cooper sets her down.

Woody stayed quiet, prompting Reg to speak from over his shoulder. “Lucy, can we speak to you in the hall, somewhere quiet?”

Her brow furrowed.

The cowboy rested a hand on his partner's lower back—“Can Cooper come?” she asks.

Reg gave a soft smile, “Whatever you’d like.”

The brothers watched the Ghouls and the odd couple walk through the crowd and disappear into a hallway.

Moments later, Dane was tapping Max on the shoulder and pointing toward a windowed room in the distance. All three Brothers tilted to the side, straining to see Lucy and The Ghoul, facing out of sight figures.

The girl wore a worried expression as she played with her hair, Cooper’s arm wrapped higher around her shoulders. The skin bunched around her eyes as she gave one teenier nod, then her face fully crumpled.

Max's eyebrows squish together as he watches The Ghoul spin the girl into his chest. Her sorrowed features burrowed themselves into his chest as he tucked her beneath his chin.

They found Hank.   

 

Notes:

I really like Kyle MacLachlan. I think that's why I enjoyed writing Hank so much.

Chapter 28: A.B.S'c

 

Behind a large oak desk sat Norm, crisscrossed in the overseer’s chair, his back to the entrance. He was just beginning chapter sixteen of 31’s manual when a swishing mechanical noise came from the door, prompting his turn in the oversized swivel. Brown eyes rolled when they took in sight of an undead man. He turns back around, “Lucy’s not in here.” He said flatly.

“I’m here to see you,” Cooper said, coming around the desk.

Norm flips a page. “That’s a waste of both our time.”

The Ghoul smiled slightly, sitting on the edge of the desk. He crosses his arms to look down at the parked Bot sitting 3 feet tall in the corner. “How’s it going, Bud?” He asks.

The inactive robot awoke with his name’s activation, his scanner taking in the scene. The blue light catches sight of the former actors’ legs, completely missing sight of Norm from his elevated position.

“Cooper Howard! How are ya? Bud, Bud Askins.” He introduced himself, as always.

“I’m alright.” He responds.

Norm bit the inside of his cheek, a sizzling feeling forming in his gut at the possibility of Bud—

“Say? Cooper, have you seen Hank anywhere?” The ghouls' face falls before jumping at the sound of a book slamming shut.

“For the last time, Bud. HE’S DEAD!” Bending forward in his effort to shout, the young MacLean feels a hand grasp his shoulder.

“Hey, he don’t understand—”

Norm shrugs off the appendage, sitting back in his seat to reopen the book. “He knows. He’s choosing to forget.”

“Well, give him that.” Cooper tried.

“That may be how you handle things…” Norm trailed off, his eyes rereading the same passage.

The Ghoul looks up at the steel-beamed ceiling. He was only here because Lucy asked him to check on the kid. He had technically done his part.

Bud’s whirring turned his form as he performed an additional scan, this time one that scaled taller than the chair’s legs.

“Ah, Norman MacLean…how are you?”

“My dad's dead,” Norm said flatly.

A few clicking beeps were heard from the bot before he spoke again. “Ah, I’m sorry to hear that. Would you like to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okie Dokie! I’m here if you do!” he said excitedly, backing up to repark in his corner.

Norm's lips purse. “He says Okie Dokie.”  His hard gaze bore into the book, the paragraph sliding off the page in a growing blur as his focus shifted.

Cooper looks down, almost missing the kids’ mumbling words. “What’s that now?”

“He says Okie Dokie.” He snapped, louder this time, meeting The Ghouls' gaze.

So? Cooper thinks, shrugging at the boy. “Ain’t that phrase common in these parts?”

“My Dad said it, so my sister says it.”

“K—”

“Why does Buddy say it?”

 Jeezus—He promised he’d look in on the boy, not unpack his Daddy’s luggage for him. Kids’ just looking for a fight. It was written over his tense features.

“Look…” he started, in the exact same moment that Norm decided to look away.

He sighs, “You know your dad was a liar.”  He stands on shifting weight as he tries to find the words, “The sooner you accept that, the sooner you’ll stop feeling all this betrayal.”

Norm’s jaw twitched as he swallowed the hot lump in his throat. He feels an inner tremble rock his core, as his face runs hot. “I just want the truth,, He said blankly, staring down the blinking bot.

Cooper frowns, Vault 96 briefly flashing in his mind. “Yeahh…” he grumbles.

 

---

 

It’s only been 72 hours since the news of Hank's murder—and yes, that’s exactly how the whole Vault had been delivered the news—It’s only been 72 hours since the murder and Woody and Reg had been tasked with getting a hold of Vault 32, but much to 33’s dismay, Betty and Stephanie had made of point of keeping silent.

Not that it would matter, she thought. Chet seems adamant that their key was the only way in, and Bud, as she’s realizing, is in a complete malfunction of usefulness.

Lucy was standing at a podium with equally flustered men. Reg raised his hands. “Everyone please—” A woman in the crowd stands to yell over the rumbling crowd, “My daughter is in 32 with Betty and Stephanie, I need her back here, she can’t stay there—”

“That’s if you actually believe they did this!” Yelled another from the back.

Lucy moves forward, grabbing the microphone from the base attached to the stand. “They attacked me, and my brother, who else could have done this?”

“Why would they do this?”

Woody took the voice amplifier from Lucy's grip, “Reg and I have come into contact with books, journals—Instruction manuals verifying everything that Lucy has told us—” Reg leans forward, sharing the microphone, “Plus with Bud Askins' tour of 31, the evidence is piling up.”

“This is hopeless. If going against Vault-Tec is going to lead to death, shouldn’t we just get in line?” Said a man from the middle row.

“YEAH!”

“We never had to worry before.”

Lucy shook her head before yelling without the podium’s assistance. “We’ve all been affected by 96’s reign, we must work together—” She was interrupted.

“If Hank were here, he’d know what to do—"

The crowd of 33 inhabitants practically sobbed in agreement.

A pit was growing in the female MacLean’s stomach. She hadn’t had much time for her own grief in the days following…the news. Sure, she was an immeasurable amount of sad, but there’s no time left to be wasted. She needed everyone standing behind her when they opened the 96 doors. She needed her community to help her put a stop to Barbara Howard and Vault-Tec once and for all.

Reg and Woody had thankfully taken her seriously. With Woody expressing his long-standing distaste for Betty after she tried to force him into Vault 32, and his friend agreeing.

Lucy was walking out of the common room, irritation clear as day on her face. Despite this, someone stopped her. “Eh, dear you and Norman missed our appointment yesterday.”

Lucy turns around, facing the owner of the shaky voice. 

Mural, the long-LONG time resident of 33, gives her a respectful smile—but regardless, the old woman was in her way. 

Lucy pats her upper arms in thanks, then uses that leverage to lightly dance the woman out of her way. “Oh yes, I’m sorry.” She lets out a breathy laugh, pointing at the dispersing crowd to their side. “I can’t speak for Norm, but…I got so distracted, with the meetings, you know….” She stepped backwards, lightly clapping her hands together.  “I’ll try to get to the next one.” She turned around, shouting over her back. “I promise.” The girl hustles away, turning out of view around a corner.

Woody exited the Common area, looking down at the hall, then at Mural. “Did Lucy come this way?”

Mural nods, with an empathetic line of her lips. “Yes. And she was in quite a hurry.”

Reg walked up to the two, catching onto the conversation. “She’s been non-stop.”

“All the while forgetting to stop by the funeral home.” The old woman said with a shake of her head.

“He’s still on ice?” Woody blanched.

Reg shuffled in place, “Come on, Woods, you know you can’t incinerate them without the family present.”

“But don’t we need the ice?”

 

---

 

Cooper found Lucy in the 96 hall.

Max and his Brother’s were sitting in various spots spread around the corridor, listening to Lucy’s latest plan to invade the vault. She was at a green board, her white chalk scratching the surface as she spoke. “So that’s when Dane will blow up the entrance behind us, preventing the horde of E-Bots from entering 33.” Dane was scribbling furiously on a notepad while Max cast Cooper a concerned look.

The Ghoul cleared his throat.

Brown hair swept the air in her turn, startling at the sight of him. “Oh, Cooper.”

“What is an E-bot?” He asks, his twang curling in irritation. She could be doing anything other than this right now. SHE could be having those tooth-pulling conversations with her little brother. 

She breaks into a smile—and it did, admittedly, sway the flames of his temper just a bit. “E-bots are what we’re calling the potential Evil robots that could be behind those doors.” She gestures at the entrance.

“‘E-bots’ is shorter to say than Evil Robots,” Dane said with a straight face,

Cooper cracks his neck to the side, delivering a hard squint at the middle brother….He turns his attention back to his partner. “How did we get to thinking there’s—” he side-eyed the firebug again—“E-bots…in there,” he finished, settling his gaze back on the girl.

“We are making plans for letters in the alphabet.” She said, excitement fueling her expression.

 “And this is Plan E?” he asks.

“This is Plan R,” Max answered, his voice as blank as his deep stare into the room.

 “It came naturally after Plan Q,” Dane provided, gesturing to Lucy in aid of the explanation.  

“Thank you,” Lucy said, smiling.

“What was plan Q?” Cooper moves to sit on a crate to the right of Max.

Thaddeus, lounging the farthest away, finally chimes in, his cheek propped up by a fist. “We’re going to walk in very quietly.”

“Some are better than others.” The vault dweller explains to The Ghoul.

“Lucy,” Cooper said softly.

“Cooper ‘18 plans’ is a lot—”

“No shit.” He said, his nonexistent brows forming a ghostly crinkle. He looks at the three on his left. “Y’all really going to follow through with this?”

Max perks up then, giving Lucy a determined nod, “Yes. Lucy is my friend, and I’ll always help out a friend.” He was beaming at her.

Lucy limped lightly in her spot, her heart warming with her friends’ words. “Aww.”

Then Thaddeus spoke.

“I’m kinda worried we’ll be kicked out if we don’t.”

Max nods his head and points at his brother. “That too.”

Her face fell before turning a hard look on Cooper. “You don’t have to help.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

She stomped her foot, the rubber sole rattling the metal grate beneath them all, “You should! You have just as much reason as I to want in there.” She shouted.

Thaddeus breaks in, “You just said he didn’t have to help—” The youngblood shrinks down from the immediate death glare thrown his way. 

Cooper turns to the brothers, “Why don’t you guys get a break in, while she and I talk?”

All three stood in an instant. With her arms crossed, her pout was passed by each of the brothers as they left the corridor.

Cooper stood to approach, halting when she took a small step back. He held up his hands in apology. “Sweetheart. When was the last time you slept?” She must be sleeping, but it hasn’t been near him.

“I haven’t.”

Oh well, never mind then.

 “You—?” he shakes his head and sighs, “You know that’s bad, right?”

She looks at him with wild eyes, “If you can take 8 bullets to the back and brush it off, I think I can live through a little sleep deprivation.”

 “I can truck the way I do, ‘cause I had to take a 30-year nap in the ground,” he tilts his head.

Lucy looks down, tightly lipped at his words….“Those things are related?” she wonders aloud.

“No, but I can make stupid assertions of my own.”

She obstinately groans, “If you’re not going to help, I’d appreciate it if you left.” She turned away.

“Hey, I can come up with plans.” He said, coming her way. “What about Plan S?” he offers, placing his hands on her shoulders.

She looks at him, annoyance clouding her dark eyes, “What’s Plan S?”

Cooper shrugs while thinking on the spot, “Stop…Sleep!” He smiled at his own cleverness. 

He pulls her into his chest before she can argue, arms wrapping around her torso in a vice.

 At first, her face remained straight forward in his pecs, before needing to breathe. She turns her cheek, settling into his shirt. Her voice came out in a low whine, “We need to go in.”

“In all due time.” He whispered, delivering a kiss to the top of her head.

Suddenly, her hands slid up to push him away. It wasn’t angry, but it was firm. His hands found hers as she looked at him.

“I know what you’re doing, do you?”

His browline furrows. “What am I doing?"

Lucy shrugs, moving to pick up her notes for the A to Q plans. “Doesn’t matter.”  She shoved items in her bag, ready for a bed. “We’re going into 96 tomorrow.” She walks past him down the corridor for home.

He was quick to follow, “What about Plans T through Z?”

She scoffed, “Suddenly, I don’t have enough plans?”

“I’m just trying to be supportive. What do you want?”

Lucy turns, arms thrown at her sides, “I want you to get over yourself and go to your daughter!”

He fixes her with a hard glare and even harder tone, “Watch it—"

She walks away from him.

He grinds his teeth to prevent an angry slew of words from spilling out. “Can’t believe I came back for this fucking bullshit.” He mumbled, regaining his traction to follow her.

“What are you saying back there?” she asked from the front, stopping them at the elevator.

He settles beside her, just as she was pressing the call button. Both kept their eyes straight ahead.

“I called today bullshit.” He said evenly.

Lucy nodded her shoulders, slumping. “Yeah.”

 

---

Norm closed the book; its last chapter brandished 31 at the top. A fact that had him rolling his eyes after completing the manual to vault 33. Which ended on Chapter 33. “Predictable,” He mumbled.

He leans out of his seat, stretching arms high over his head.

Short of Woody and Reg coming in periodically to check for correspondence from 32, and a moment of Lucy’s boyfriend inserting himself where he wasn’t wanted, he’s spent most of the day alone. Glancing over at the robot in the corner, he releases the rise of his arms; a heavy sigh empties his lungs as he relaxes back into the chair.

Buddy is hard to talk to, in more ways than just one. But he’s been the only person—Norm stops the idea. Bud wasn’t a person. So, naturally, his ability to withstand staying in a room with the boy was longer lasting. Buddy didn’t look at him with sad eyes, and unless spoken to, he didn’t try to fill Norm's silence either.

He thinks Bud was an influential companion of his dad's. Something he’s sure his dad enjoyed having one-sided conversations with—someone who didn’t waste his time by having an opinion of their own. Dad liked people like that.

He leans forward. “Hey, bud.”

Lights lit up, and the dome around the brain sent a show of sparks into the floating brain.

“Hey—” His scanner broke out, originally missing Norm's position, but with his second pass around, the boy quickly lowered his ankle to be in the bot’s view. “Norman! Good to see you. Bud, Bud Askins.”  The little bot rolls forward, “How are you?”

Norm looks at the floor, where the tip of his boot brushes against it in an absent-minded swing. “My dad died.”

A few registered beeps moved through Bud before his response was chosen. “I’m sorry to hear that. Would you like to talk about it?”

Norm shifts forward in his seat, both feet planting on the ground as he leans to rest his elbows on his knees. “Did you know my dad?” He asked, a hard flick of his glare meets the headlights of the robot.

Bud beeps and whirls before his speaker box releases the static voice. “Hank MacLean was the Overseer to Vault 33, Employee of Vault Tec since April 1st, 2070.”

Norm purses his mouth. The date sounded true, truer than anything else Bud had supplied in the recent days. He wants to ride this stream of thought, catching on to one of his dad's most celebrated holidays.

“He started on April Fool’s Day?”

Gaskets are heard blowing out as the bot began to speak again.  “Ha, yeah. He punched in on April Fool’s Day at 05:56 am. After which, he was tricked into the copier room by his new coworkers.”

“Tricked into a copy room?” Norm questioned.

“The copy room had a busted lock. If the door was closed, it took Maintenance hours to get it back open.”

Norm scrunched up his face before moving out of his seat. He settles on the floor, “Why would they do that?”

Bud thought for about his usual amount of time and answered. “Hank beat a few people in line for Barb's Assistant. It was written off as hazing by HR, but Hank was bitter about it for years.”

Norm rests a cheek on his bent knee, “How long was he in there?”

“We were in there for two hours.”

Norm sits up. Bud usually took a few seconds to respond, always making sounds like his information was found in deep archives.

“We?”

Now, like normal, Bud took a considerable amount of time to answer. 

“Hey!”

The boy slumps as the blue scan broke out once more.

“Norman MacLean? Bud, Bud Askins. How are you?”

“I want to talk about my dad.” He said quickly. This has been typical of Bud; he kept restarting conversations. Before his dad died, this hadn’t been a noticeable malfunction.

“Okie Dokie, Henry MacLean, Overseer of Vault 33, employed by Vault Tec since—”

“April First, 2070,” The boy interrupts the bot. “Tell me about that day, what happened.”

“Henry was locked in the copier room—”

“With who?”

Bud made a ripple of noises before answering. “Files do not indicate Henry MacLean was in the room with another employee.”

“How long have you worked for Vault Tec?”

“Bud Askins has been employed with Vault Tec since 2061.”

“What was Bud Askins doing on April 1st, 2070?”

Bud was quiet…

“No files detected.”

Norm leans forward, grabbing Bud by his dome. “Stop it, Bud! You’re lying, you’re…you’re withholding information I can tell!” he shouts, forcibly rolling the bot away in a shove.

He quickly stands up, “God, why does everyone who works for Vault Tec— LIE!” A swift boot lunges out, kicking a plastic trash can. The bin soars across the room, flinging papers out, that waft down around the storming boy. He breathes in and out through his nose, trying to regain control—

Bud turns back and forth, as if searching for the room without his blue light, causing Norm to pause. Finally, headlight eyes settle on him; Out of chance, or from a hidden ability, Norm doesn’t know. His stomach flipped, an odd sensation forming from the absent stare, like Bud was performing a more intimate personal scan.

The bot moved slowly, “Are you still there?” he asked.

Norm felt a stream of heat run up his neck, a lump filling the back of his throat as he sank back to the ground. His palms find his eyes, trying to alleviate the pressure behind them.

“I’m still here.” He finally answers.

Bud inches forward some more, “Do you want to talk about it?” his static came out almost like a whisper.

Norm swallows the bitter lump. “No.”

Bud beeps, “I’m here if you do.”

Except he wasn’t really, was he?  The boy shook his head. All the bot could do these days is evade questions while repeating its own.

Suddenly, He had an idea. A plan. “Hey, bud?” he starts, reinitiating the robot.

“Hey!” Blue scan— “Norman MacLean. How are you?”

“I’m good, Bud. How are you?”

The bot made noises of delight, “I’m great! Say, you wouldn’t have happened to have seen Hank around, have you?”

Norm shifts to his knees, “Hank went into vault 96.” 

There was a buzz before Bud's voice dropped, “Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know, but can you take me to him?”

“Hank doesn’t want his children in Vault 96,” Bud answered seriously.

“It’s okay this time,” He rushes, trying to think, “because he’s waiting for you to get me in safely! He said he could trust you.”

There was a moment of silence before Bud's tone changed dramatically, “Of course, Hank can trust me.”

“Well, you can get me in, make sure nothing bad happens. And then we can both see my dad.”

He was quiet, as if deep in thought, while his mechanics whirled.

Norm rolled his eyes. “You do want to see my dad, don’t you?”

This time, Bud didn’t need time to think. “More than anything.”

 

---

 

Lucy kicked off her boots the second the couple entered their domain.

Cooper watched his girl shuffle for the bed and plop down face-first into the mattress. Her hair wildly sprawling around her cemented head. If she weren’t a ghoul, he’d worry about her eventual suffocation.

He sighed, moving forward to sit on the foot of the bed. Lucy didn’t budge, bringing forth a twitch in his jaw. He sat for a moment longer before falling back beside her.

Once his back hit the mattress, Lucy turned her neck, resting her cheek to look at The Ghoul.

He blinked a few times, waiting for her to say something, anything—but alas, “Do you want to talk about it?” he said finally.

Lucy swallowed before turning to lie on her back. Resting with a foot between them, she answered. “Talk about what?”

He rolled his eyes. “Politics.” He said flatly.

Lucy returned the roll of her eyes and settled further into the mattress with her eyes closed.

“The weather?” Cooper continued, his annoyance growing.

She remained still.

Cooper sat up, the dip in the mattress from his weight prompting the girl to open her eyes and glance towards the end of the bed.  She watched as he lifted his hand, “Oh, I know—“ He touched his temple in a sudden understanding. “Have you heard your daddy died?”

Lucy sat up instantly, her face souring, “Don’t be an ass.” She scolded, fingers digging into the comforter.

He lifted his right leg to fold it up on the bed as he turned to better face her. “You know, holding it in, ain’t gonna do anyone any favors.”

She shrugged.

She fucking shrugged.

“I don’t feel sad.” She said, “My dad has only himself to thank for this.”

“You really think that.” He deadpanned.

“Don’t you?” she questioned.

“Of course!” Cooper looked exasperatedly around the room, his hazel eyes turning back to her. “But I’m surprised you do.”

Again, with the rolling of the eyes, Lucy fell back down into the mattress with a sigh, her hands landing comfortably on her stomach. She looked at the ceiling, her head shaking slightly in thought. “All I can think about is figuring out why everything has happened.” She leaned up and then rested on her forearms to look at him. “I can’t bring my dad to justice, but I will with Vault 96.” She looked at him with an arched brow. “That means going inside,” she spoke to him like he needed reminding.

Cooper was quiet as he held her poignant stare down. “You and your brother sure are alike.”

Lucy sat up fully, looking down her legs in a frown. “How is he doing?”

“He’s angry too.” He said. Looking at her shifted demeanor.

“I’m not angry.” She groaned, throwing her head back, and he waited, accepting her gaze when lifted her head again. “I was…All, those years ago.” She clarified with a small laugh.

He lifted his head in a small understanding, “He could probably use some advice then…to get out of it.”

A pit that had been open since she was given the news yawned in her stomach. The ache of her failure brought a lump to her throat. She wanted to talk to Norm, but—“I don’t know what to say.” She whispered.

Cooper nodded. “Well, I bet he’d enjoy knowing how you snapped your wrists…since you managed to evade the topic since the dance.

Lucy looked up, her brows furrowed as a line of burning tears began to touch her rims— “But you said—”

He scooted closer to her, his arm wrapping around her increasingly sagging shoulders. “I know, know, but it IS a little late for that now and at this point. Truth from someone… may be greatly appreciated.”

She wore wide eyes that stared blankly into the distance as he continued, “Since we both know he won’t be getting it from your dad.” He said, plainly watching her reaction.

Right. She thought, nodding lightly. Her dad was gone, and so was everything he could ever say, or explain…She swallowed, do…Lucy’s eyes glazed over.

“Your dad sure did do a number on him.”

Desondent, she answered softly. “Yeah, it was hard…thumbing through the lies.” 

Cooper studied her face closely. “I think the hardest thing for your brother is the lack of closure.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I guess…closure would have been nice.”

He rubbed his chin, “When my Dad died, long before I was even married, I got drunk at the cemetery; told his tombstone how I really felt.”

Lucy's lashes fluttered up as she looked at him. “Did it work?”

Leaning back, Cooper turned his head. “Did what work, Darlin?”

“Did telling his…what did you call it?”

“Tombstone.”

“Did it help you get over it. Even though it wasn’t him?”

He released a heavy breath. “Honestly, no.”

She rolled her eyes. “Then what was the point of telling me—”

He chuckled, “Well, excuse me for trying to welcome you to the dead dad club.”

Her hands found her eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine, sweetheart.” His hands found her shoulders again, and she dropped her palms, looking in his direction as he pulled her down to lie next to him.

“What’ch y’all do for funerals around here if you don’t have tombstones?”

Lucy placed a hand over his where it was rested on her stomach.

“Umm…we have the option of public or private.” She turned her head, facing his inquisitive gaze. “Public just means the vault lines up in the hallway leading to the incinerator room. Saying nice things as the family passes through.”

“Are you leaning public?” he asked.

“I haven’t thought about it.”

“Course not.” He said, with a laugh.

She rolled her eyes, and he laughed again.

She covers her face, “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “It’s all good darlin—"

“It's not ‘good’,” she whines, lifting her head with teary eyes. “I shouldn’t be snapping at you…and I shouldn’t be sending you to talk to my brother either!”

“It’s ALL-right. I can handle all the difficult conversations for you. Whenever you want me to. I enjoy it…” He finished with a small cock of his head, “Sometimes.”

“But Norm needs me right now, and I can barely be in a room with him.”

“There ain’t very many rooms here, you’ll find the right one soon enough.”

“But Norm is my responsibility. He’s hurting, and I’m doing nothing.”

“'Cause you’re hurting too—”

“I told you I’m not.”

“It may be dressed up differently, but it's there, and that’s okay—”

“IT'S NOT OKAY!” She stands quickly, turning to pace the room. “I want to talk to Norm, but I’m afraid if I do, I’ll…” she trails off, continuing her pacing.

“You’ll what?”

Lucy groans, moving through everything in her mind, “My dad was a bad guy, right?”

“Rrright?” he looks at her skeptically, unsure about the correct answer.

“He got exactly what we preach, do unto others—well, unfortunately, a jury of his peers was never going to match the number of people my dad hurt, so clearly the karma resulted in his death.”

He lifts his shoulders noncommittally, “Sound math—”

“But that doesn’t feel right either, because it’s kind of like getting away scot-free, no punishment,” she reasons.

He blinks a few times, “That’s… an outlook for sure—”

“So what is it?”

“What’s what?” I’m so confused.

“Should he have died?” She asks.

“Uhm…”

“Obviously, since he was murdered, it’s important not to condone that—” she looks at Cooper, who tilts his head.

She waves her hand, “Sorry, I forgot who I was talking to.”

He shrugs.

“I just mean I should have some level of remorse, right?”

“Sure, why not?”

“But I don’t… I don’t feel ANYthing.”

“Well—” He scoffed, “Some may debate you on that.”

“Who?” She snaps, eyes wild and threatening.

“I don’t know…” he scratched behind his ear, “Someone outta this room probably…”

She decides to ignore the comment, shoulders slumping, “How can I be there for Norm?”

Cooper waves a hand at her, “Norms is a big boy. Maybe once upon a time he was labeled your responsibility, but no one alive would put that on you now.”

Lucy gives him a look.

“Too soon?”

Sitting back on the bed, she moans, “I’m a bad sister.”

He winces, “You’re not—"

Lucy looks away, hiding the tears that wanted to spring forth, “And I’m a bad daughter.”

“Hey! No, you’re not,”

“I am!” She shouts.

He scoots closer, placing an arm around her, “Sweetheart, I promise you’re not—”

“When we were on the surface, headed home…”

“Yeah?”

“I kept thinking ‘how will he be punished?’ And then” she sucked in a breath, “and then I thought… It would be easier if he just died.”

Cooper leans down, resting his cheek on her shoulder. They were both silent, except for her stuttering breaths. 

She managed to find her voice, “He didn’t get any better after you left.”

“I’m not surprised.” He mumbled into her ear.

Her mouth was downturned, “He kept trying to see me when I took to the bed, or in the halls. What if he was trying to tell me everything? Maybe that’s why Betty and Stephanie did what they did.”

“You’ll never know, and there’s no point in making up scenarios where you two made up.”

She shakes her head, and he pulls away. “It's not about us making up.”

 “Then what’s it about?”

“It’s bad.” She shrinks.

“Can’t be that bad, and look who you’re talking to.”

She rocks back and forth in small movements. “I can’t say it.”

“Who else you gonna say it to?” He asked. He doesn’t want to push her, but he can’t squash what’s eating her if she doesn’t speak up.

Her eyes fall to her lap, where she picks at her cuticles. This may be the very thing she feared discussing with Norm. Because she doesn’t want to feel this way, and she certainly doesn’t want anyone to validate the feeling.

Finally she sniffled… “I…I hate him.” She looks her partner in the eyes, waiting for him to tell her, ‘Good’, or ‘that’s normal’, but instead Cooper reaches for her hand— She pulled away quick to cover her face, “And I’ll never get to tell him!” she lamented.

“Shhhh,” he pulls her closer.

Her voice rises above him, “I hate him for what he did to my mom, I hate him for what he did to Shady Sands, and I hate him for what he did to you!” Cooper takes that moment to pull her into his chest, she’s a mess now of bleary tears that dampen his shirt—“But I hate him most for being my dad!” she sobbed.

“It's okay—”

Her lungs sucked in, “Why did he have to stop being my dad?” Her pain bellows into the room.

“It’s gonna be alright…” He’s so much quieter than her—“I just want my dad back.”

 

---

 

Cooper was awakened by a subtle beeping sound in the room. He lifts his head from the brown hair it’d been buried in, looking toward the apartment door.

Lucy had cried herself to sleep, all the while he held her. She’d been so exhausted after expelling all that water, plus the days leading up to it, that she didn’t even budge when he peeled himself away.

He presses a button for the ‘peephole function’, and a green-lined image of two men appears on the screen. He activates the intercom. “What do you want?”

The pudgier of the two startles while the timid one dots his fingers together, “Is Lucy home? We’ve received a message from 32.”

Cooper frowns, looking back at Lucy. He really didn’t want to wake her; she needed the rest. He turned back, pressing the button again. “What’d they say?”

Woody shuffles closer, “We only just now got the notification, we haven’t stopped by the office yet.” Reg continues, “We wanted Lucy there, for full transparency.”

Cooper pulls back. “Fucking—” he rubbed at his lips, turning to the sleeping girl, she looked peaceful...content. Standing with his hands on his hips, he takes a forced breath in. I’ll only try this once.

“Hey, wake up!”

Lucy gasps, eyes shooting open.

His shoulders fell. God Dammit.

She quickly blinks her daze away, finding the man in front of her.

He sighs. “Did you wanna talk to 32?”

 

---

 

Lucy steeled herself for Norm's presence; he’d been practically living out of the overseer's office and would want to be included in the conversation with 32.

The four waited the 5 seconds between pressing the button and the opening of the door.

Her eyes scanned the room, shocked to find it empty. “Where’s Norm?”

Cooper, whose hand pressed against her back, led her to the back of the desk, where Woody and Reg briefly tiffed over who was to sit in the chair.

When Reg won out, Woody sighed to answer her question. “I don’t know, I was in here 2 hours ago, and he was gone.”

The Vault ghoul's eyebrows crinkled as she looked at her partner. He shrugged.

Reg looked between the two, “Should we wait—”

“No.” Woody snapped. “Kids have been in here day in and day out. We finally got a hold of 32, and he’s not here? He snooze—he lose.” He met Lucy’s less-than-impressed glare. “I mean, did you want to get him?”

She sighed. Woody had a point; they can’t risk their window for communication with Stephanie and Betty. “No, we need to talk to them now.”

“I’m almost in,” Reg said, entering his credentials with a few clicks and clacks. “Got it.” He said, leaning back.

Everyone bent forward to read the message.

Reg leaned forward to type.

Cooper smacked his shoulder, “That don’t fucking matter.”

Reg held up his hands, “You’re right, you’re right,” He began deleting the extra info.

Lucy rolled her eyes, “Reg!”

“Sorry: he said, sending his message.

Woody spoke up, “Susan and Terrance are the me and Reg of 32, but they used to—”

“No one asked,” Cooper said, shutting him up as Reg continued to type.

Everyone shared a look while Lucy pointed back at the computer, “Ask for Betty and Stephanie again.”

Reg leaned forward to type.

Everyone wanted to scratch their head. “What do they mean?” Lucy finally shouted. Reg moved again.

Wide eyes, read the sentence over and over again, as they stopped in confusion, “Who…” she whispered, Cooper's hand finding her shoulder.

Reg's hand was stuck, shocked over his mouth, forcing Woody to lean over his friend to type.

Lucy turned around, her hair pushing bangs away from her face. How could this be?

Reg was leaning forward to type about Hank Maclean's death when the computer began to fizzle out. His face soured, “What?” 

Lucy turned back around at the sound of his tone, catching sight of the warped screen image.

Cooper lifted his hand, delivering a sharp smack to the side of the monitor. The image righted itself again, this time with an additional user.

 

The female MacLean leaned forward, “31? Is that Bud?”

Reg and Woody shared a glance, “How did he get in this conversation line—”

Lucy pushed herself in front of Reg's hands, taking over the writing.

Lucy's stomach fell in silent tandem with Coopers sweating neck at the mention of a ‘her’.

She wanted to scream at this form of communication; no time to be wasted with long questions.

Once again the the computer acted out, this time with an ominous red line, briefly cracking the chat room before yet again another user entered the chat.

She was filled with blinding rage as Cooper took a step away from the computer. 

Lucy leaned forward to type.

The next message came through.

Lucy focused her emotions down to a plain answer. 

Lucy stood up, moving around the desk without hesitation. The Ghoul stared blankly at the screen. He was frozen, unsure,

“Lucy, wait!” Woody called,

She was almost out the door, refusing to look back, “I’m going—”

“No, look, there’s another message.”

She turned around, finding him pointing at the screen.

She rushed back, reading the new text.

 

 

Notes:

Please let me know if my 'vault log chats' are not coming through. I thought it would be a fun multi media experiment, but if its not readable, then I may change it.
Thank you for reading. I hope everyone has a great weekend.

Chapter 29: Wish - Wash

Notes:

Trigger warning, mentions of miscarriages, and loose medical world-building.

 

February 2nd, 2078

 

Barb shouted, “What the hell do you mean you’re freezing early?”  They couldn’t do this; she needed them, she needed him! “Did you forget you work for me—”

“Did you forget we’re hundreds of miles from your location? And we’re a century or two away from Vault Tec supremacy. You’ve lost your leverage, Ms. Howard.”

Her grip threatened to snap the plastic receiver as she bit the inside of her cheek, “You will continue the research—”

“We were never going to stop. We admit we can’t afford to cut all contact with you. We’ve heard what your plug-in brain can do, but we’ve lost half our intended population. We have to consider our own longevity. I’m sorry, Barb, our hands are tied.”

“Abnor,” she pleaded.

“I have calls to 33 and 32 to make,” The line went dead.

Barb laid down the phone.

Fingers find hot tears beneath her eyes as she wipes them away. Everything is wrong. None of it was supposed to happen like this. If 97 goes to sleep early, then Janey would have to wait.

She stood from her desk, walking to the Cryo-chamber standing tall in her suite. “I won’t give up,” she whispered, lifting a chipped manicured hand to caress the glass that shielded her daughter from time.

She released a shaky breath, “I promise.”

 

---

Five people stood inside the Vaults' armory, while two stood outside, viewing in.

“Which letter is this?”  Max asked, clipping extra ammunition to his side.

“No letter, we’re just going in,” Lucy said, bent in half to tighten her boot around her dagger. She’s done overthinking this. Barb isn’t taking anything else from her. 

Max frowned at her words.

“Super! I’m glad we spent a whole day on that then.” Thaddeus said from across the room.

Cooper, who had stopped in the apartment to pick up his personal toys and apparel, had his bandolier set across his chest, refilling slots with shells for his gun. He looked back at Lucy, “We shouldn’t be going in without a plan.”

Woody raised a finger from outside the doorway, stealing Lucy’s gaze from the Ghoul. “I second that.” — “Third,” Reg said next.

Lucy holstered a gun on her hip. “Okie Dokie. Then you three stay behind and come up with a plan while we–.” She stopped and gestured at herself, then at the brothers. “Walk into 96, politely…with our invitation,” she said, her eyes wide and lips tight. 

The firebug turned to their brothers, who instinctively huddled together. “It’s plan Q,” Dane whispered. 

Lucy held her own against a scowling Cooper before ultimately walking past him with a string of Brothers following tightly behind.

The Ghoul glared, grinding his teeth, “’ mm obviously goin’ in,” he said, moving forward. He was beginning to think Marcus was right. His ship is starting to sink.

 

 

---

 

November 29th. 2088

 

Barb walked stiffly into the common area of 96, having just been released from her cryo-chamber for an update on Janey’s progress.

Sitting at a lunch table was a family, children under ten running around, laughing adults. They were smiling, giggling, enjoying life—she scowled.

“Margaret.” She said firmly.

A wide-eyed woman who was chasing a young girl straightened quickly, rushing to Barb. “Ms. Howard, what are you doing up? You need rest—”

“Don’t w-waste my time.” She shoved her off, “What’s the update on Janey?”

The woman looked back at her family before nervously addressing her boss. “Can we speak privately?”

“No. Running around… p-playing…” she spat, “you can tell me right here.”

The taller woman balked, “I really think—”

Barb pointed sharply at the little girl shrinking away behind a nervous man. “What if it were your daughter?” she yelled, a lump forming in her throat as everyone in the room looked at her like a spectacle.

The other woman stood straighter, her lips a tight line. She looked to her five-year-old, then back to the shaking woman whose knees buckled beneath her—skipping the prescribed 24-hour nap after cryo is hard on the body—The Doctor moved forward, managing to keep her upright as the other 96 members ran to assist Barb to the clinic.

Once settled in bed, tired eyes found Margaret. Her shivering was uncontrollable, wracking her whole body as cold digits clasped the standing woman. “P-please. Tell me you’ve found a way.”

The Doctor looked down. “I’m sorry, Ms. Howard, we just haven’t found a way to reverse her… illness. We need more time.”

Barb let go of her hand, her blank stare focusing on the ceiling as a single tear shed down her cheek. “Put me back to sleep.”

 “We can’t—” Margaret flinched under her patient’s lethal look. “I mean, we shouldn’t. People aren’t meant to freeze more than once.”

The exec leaned forward, “Then the next time you wake me up, you better have something to deliver.”

 

 

---

 

 

They entered the Hall of 96 to find the entrance open. 

Lucy shook her head. What was Norm thinking coming in here alone? After everything they’ve been through—she can’t bear to lose him, too. She looked down in the dark hallway before activating her pip-boys flashlight. 

Cooper saddled up beside her, sighing. “Ready?”

Lucy swallowed, biting back her guilt for snapping at him. It’s his own fault for getting in my way. She gives a little nod, averting her gaze from the depth of darkness to settle on Max and the brothers. “You guys stay out here.”

Her main focal point of the three brothers scowled. Max looks at The Ghoul, then back at the girl. “But—” Lucy interrupted,

“I ask that you come in after us in 30 minutes, that way if we get ambushed, we have incoming backup.”

The former knight looked down but nodded.

She reached out, taking his hand in hers. “Look, I really appreciate you guys and all your support. I already spoke to Reg and Woody, whether Cooper and I make it out or not, all three of you are welcome to stay in the vault.”

Thaddeus performed a small fist bump off to the side. Max looked at Lucy and smiled. “Thank you.”

Cooper clapped the Knight on the shoulder. “It’s been fine knowing you.” He said, turning away to enter the domain of 96, without a light or a Lucy. 

She followed the Cowboy over her shoulder before sending a painful glance back at Max. He gave her a tight-lipped smile. She nodded away, trotting behind The Ghoul.

“Hey,” she panted, reaching his long strides. “Wait up.”

“No time to wait.” He said eyes forward, boot smacking metal.

The pair turned a corner, officially leaving sight of Vault 33. Now in total darkness beside Lucy’s pip-boy, she stopped with a halting grab on Cooper's shoulder. “Hey. Stop.” She demanded.

Cooper turned with an aggravated flare, “Are we doing this or not? You’ve been on my ass about coming in here now—” She wrapped her arms around him, cheek pressing against his chest.

Slowly, by second, she felt his body relax. Hesitant arms wrapping around her, as his chin rested on the top of her head.

“It’s going to be okay.” She whispered.

He swallowed hard because he didn’t know what she was talking about. They have no way of knowing what was about to happen, whether either of them was going to leave 96 with a happy ending.

She leaned back, arms still positioned around his middle, trying to make out his face in the darkness.

His eyes had been adjusting, not able to make out her details, but still in view of her shifting silhouette. Her hands lifted to caress the back of his head to the side of his cheeks.

“No matter what happens, remember I’m here… with you.” She added, pulling him down.

His eyes closed from the pressure of her plump lips pressing against his scarred cheekbone.

 Yeah.

She was with him.

Everything would be okay.

‘Cause everything always goes Lucy's way.

 

 

---

 

 

July 15th, 2192

 

 

Barb shuddered—something was wrong.

“Ms. Howard, can you hear me?”

Her head tossed back and forth on her pillow, teary eyes opening to see masked faces hovering above her. She gasped, “What—” Her voice felt rough, traveling through a throat of sandpaper. “What year is it?”

“It’s 2192.”

The glare from the overhead light was too great.

She raised her arms to block the light—but no… where her mind screamed for synchronization, she found her left side immobilized. She looked down, expecting to find something preventing her from moving, but instead was plagued with the vision of a plain arm, just stubbornly refusing to move.

A wave came from her left side, this time something like a phantom. She cringed, “What's wrong with me—”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Howard, your medical file states you knew the risks of repeated cryo. This is one of the possible side—”

She wailed, a torturous moan releasing from her heaving chest; it was agonizing, like half of her body was dead. “Can you fix it?” She was panicking—The team of doctors shared a look before turning back to her, “Can we give you something for the pain?”

She nodded, promoting the quick travel of a tear, “Please… Please!” she cried.

 The morphine could have worked faster, but regardless, her head eventually lolled to the side as she was put to sleep.

 

 

---

 

 

They held hands in the dark, taking tentative steps together. Once they broke into what should have been populated areas, they were met with more darkness.

Darkness, and a smell.

It wasn’t fresh bodies, Cooper knew. They were old. The smell of death—never allowed to dissipate. It created thick dusty air, something he’s sucked down plenty of times. 

Lucy’s hand was held tightly over her nose. “Where are the people?” She whispered. 

Cooper looked around, speaking low, “Scattered somewhere around us, I’m sure.” The bottom of the steel-lined walls was emergency lights active enough to light their path as Lucy navigated them to the likely location of the med bay.

Lucy swallowed a bitter pill. Barb's ruthlessness knows no bounds. Norm told her about Vault 32. Gassed out after it discovered Vault 96. What reason would she have for ending her own vault? “Why would she do this?” she questioned aloud.

Cooper turned his head quickly, hearing a sudden drip that was too unnerving to ignore.

…

He squinted.

Nothing.

He glanced back down at Lucy, his hand tightening around hers. “Barbs playing a game she’s determined to win.”

His girl shook her head, “She’s a monster.” 

Cooper gave her a sidelong glance. Not too long ago, he’d been considered a monster. “I know a thing or two about makin’ it this long,” he said. Not intending to defend Barb, but in a way, defend himself.

Lucy kept her shuffle forward but looked his way. “Are you comparing yourself to her? After everything with 97, killing 32, my dad, Betty, Steph–”

“First of all, I’d bet my life that Bud sucked the air outta that room. He had a talent for it when he was alive.”

Lucy shook her head, “I’m not betting anything–auhp!” She jumped, catching sight of what she was about to step over—It was an extended limb of a corpse. She fumbled back into Cooper's side—He held her up, guiding her away to continue their tour. “Second,” he said above her, “I’ve done bad things, sweetheart.”

Lucy straightened to regard him fully, “Who says you haven’t, but the sort of bad things you did make a difference.”

“Oh, is there a scale?” 

“Yes. Yes, there is.” She said matter-of-factly, eyes and determination forward. 

Cooper pursed his lips, now determined to keep himself from being surprised by not continuing this conversation.

Soon after, Lucy led them to the outside of the clinic, a faint light glow showing from the inside out.

She let go of her partner's hand, rushing forward as he moved in stride to keep up.

Bud was parked in the middle of a dark, ransacked room, Norm's limp form illuminated in the middle of his beam.

“NORMAN!” Lucy shouted, rushing to her brother for what felt like the millionth time in her life.

Bud's interactive eyes blinked before turning at the sound. A beam took over the room, casting Norm and the new inhabitants to the room.

Diligent fingers found a pulse, “He’s alive.” She said, relief flooding her senses.

“Cooper, Lucy— Thank god you’re here,” Bud said.

Lucy cradled Norm’s head in her lap, gearing to scold the Bot. “What were you thinking, bringing him in here alone?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately.”

Cooper looked around, eyes drawn to the machinery that lined the room, leading to a large screen prominently displayed on a back wall.

Lucy regarded the bot with empathetic eyes, “What happened to him? How long’s he been out?” She was trying her best to speak with patience instead of profound irritation.

“It’s a sedative. She dosed him through the vents before I kicked her out of the room. She’ll be back soon.”

Lucy looked around. Buds’ head-beams barely shine a light on everything. Her stomach dropped at the idea of coming face-to-face with the Barbara Howard. She swallowed, “Are we in danger?”

“Very much so,” Bud said simply.

 

 

---

 

 

August 3rd, 2192

 

Barb sat in the 96 office, a space she had to battle for, against the former overseer—now vice-seer of the vault.

In a wheelchair and attached to a stream of drugs, she scrolled through old messages from the last 100 years. Everyone who was her adjacent was either dead or still frozen—One name caught her eye.

Viewing as ‘active.’

She shook her head. “Of course, that roach is still alive,” she mumbled, opening her chat window…

 

 

---

 

 

Cooper navigated through the darkness, fingers trailing along ports, buttons, grooves, and nobs. He’s seen the clinic in 33; This place was unnecessarily filled with technical junk.

Lucy was still tending to Norm when his boot met something in the black of the room.

His chin scrunched in the abrupt motion down, finding another set of bodies; Only these were fresh—Ish—Lying huddled together. And if he had to guess, they’ve been dead a few months. 

Bending down, he shifted one of the corpses closer. It was dark, but not enough to misread the number 97 on the collar of their jump suits. That would explain why they’re fresher than the others.

He glances back to the Macleans, seeing the boy attempt to sit up. “Ugh, again…” he mumbled, his shoulders sagging as Lucy helped him lie back on the floor.

The Ghoul looked over the corpses again, one of which was wearing a satchel. He lifted its torso, pulling the strap over the rotting head. “She’s coming,” He heard Bud say.

Cooper stood, bringing the leather across his body before unholstering his gun. He aimed at the entrance of the clinic as Lucy brought her brother closer to her chest.

“Come on out, Barb!” He yelled, practically foaming at the mouth for this long-awaited reunion.

 

 

---

 

 

January 13th, 2193

 

“These are not necessary.”

“I decide what is necessary.” Barbara signed the form held for her by the 97-transport member.

The newly demoted Max Hartwell crossed his arms. Unlike his previous overseers, he was beginning to question Barbara Howard's necessity in his vault.

“First three Med-altered Mr. Handys, now all this equipment from 97?  What are you planning? I told you I won’t put your daughter on my doctor’s table. They don’t need that on their con—”

“I don’t need your permission!” She snapped, “So discussing this is a waste of my time, and your god-awful breath.” Disgust was written over her features as she maneuvered her chair away, just enough for Mr. Handy to begin pushing her back through the open corridor.

 

 

---

 

 

“I’m here,” A voice said over the intercom, surprising the inhabitants.

Cooper gestured wildly around. “Where?” he shouts. Not in the mood for mind games.

The room’s lights flickered on and off, as a symphony of beeps and boops filled the room around them.

 Lucy slowly stood, her furrowed brow following a stream of lights which brought her attention to the large flat screen. Cooper lowered his gun, approaching the wall as a green colored code took over the screen, forming a face.

Barb's face.

“Everywhere.”

---

 

 

---

 

 

“What is this?” He seethed.

His ex-wife remained passive. “This is how I’ve kept Janey alive.”

Lucy looked around the room, failing to see a child that resembled Cooper and Barbara, or at least would have…

“Where?” his arms spread wide, “She ain't here!” he roared.

The room turned red as the computerized woman's voice came out in a bloodcurdling resonance. 

“And whose fault is that?” 

 

 

---

 

 

---

 

 

Cooper rubbed a hand over his face. Barb was…Bud. Or at least, another kind of bud. Only larger, more menacing, with her overall presence dominating the room. He was trying to wrap his head around the whole thing when he heard his name called.

He turned to find Lucy close to disappearing behind a server station, her focus on something behind the tall contraption. “There's a doorway back here.” She said, leaving his view in a second. 

The Ghoul moved to follow, the ground MacLean momentarily forgotten in the overload of information between the two.

Inside the new room, the couple was met with an eerily familiar glow, a color that made both their stomachs twist in memory of the relentless color palette that dominated their marital walls, decor, bed…

A whirring hum hypnotized them closer to a pod standing tall. A gurgle bubbled from the machine, an indicator of a working respirator inside the goo that shone across stunned expressions.

Lucy's breath caught in her throat, her hand instinctively finding Cooper's at her side. The second their fingers met, his grip took hold of her as he blinked, once, twice, three times.  Keeping contact, he leaned forward to press his free palm against the glass.

“Janey?” he whispered.

 

 

---

 

 

---

 

His chest swelled. She’s here—She’s alive—She was smaller than he remembered, but she was right here, his baby, his—

 Lucy’s voice cracked, “This is Janey?” she questioned, her free hand finding her stomach without reason or thought—Cooper opened his mouth, ready to confirm. To rejoice. To plan–

“No.”

The lights turned on, one snap after the other, as the room awoke with Barb's mental command. 

With the lights fully on, his attention turned back to the pod, his stomach dropping.

The intergecting intercom was right. 

The child looked off.

Everything slightly different to the smallest fractional degree.

It’s been 200 years, but he knows.

This isn’t Janey.

Barb spoke again.

“But it will be.”

 

Notes:

Please let me know if my 'vault log chats' are not coming through. I thought it would be a fun multi media experiment, but if its not readable, then I may change it.
Thank you to everyone who's been following the story. It's meant everything to me.

Chapter 30: Shakalaka

Notes:

Some action, some sad. Please enjoy.

 

 Lucy’s chin quivered. “Where did she come from?” 

The room stayed silent besides the occasional bubble in the pod before Barb finally answered.
“I believe you know.”

 Lucy frowned. Letting go of Cooper's hand as she yelled into the room. “How can you be so callous?”

“I’m doing what any good parent would do for their child.”

Lucy looked to Cooper, who seemed to pointedly look away from her as he absorbed his ex wifes words.

Her lips formed a tightline, a lump forming in the back of her throat, “By taking away from future mothers?” she said in a broken tone.

“Cry me a river, you don’t even remember being pregnant.”

Lucy bristled back, while Barb's words finally garnered a reaction from The Ghoul,  “You really did that?” He shook his head, “Knocked her up and took the kid?” He’d thought they'd taken her internal tools, but he never wanted to consider that they’d go to the full extent of using them. 

“It takes two to tango, Cooper.”

Lucy’s eyes widened, turning back to the girl before sharing a surprised filled look with Cooper. “I–” he stopped. No. His parts haven't worked in years. “That’s not possible,” he finally said. 

“When it comes to helping Janey, I make the impossible possible,” she said plainly. 

Cooper looked around. “So Janey is here?” he asked, thinking another room may house his daughter somewhere. Though looking at Barb, he wondered what state she would be in.

“Yes.” Was all she said when Bud whirled into the back room, spreading his blue light. “Sorry to interrupt, but I just thought you should know she’s gearing up to gas the room again.”

Barb's voice scoffed. “Mind your own business, Buddy.”

 The Ghoul couple shared a look before moving to leave–Lucy stopped in the doorway above Bud. Cooper halted behind her, looking in the direction of her focus. On the pod. 

Her crinkled eyebrows moved with a thousand different motions across her face. 

He lifted his hand to her chin. “Hey—” Watery eyes met his, “We’ll come back. She’s not gonna hurt her. She did all this for her,” he said. For Janey, technically, but he didn't feel the need to voice that. And he’s curious to know if the satchel across his body would explain exactly how she planned to do it. 

Lucy gave a small nod, turning back to rush for her brother. 

Cooper moved to the screen where Barb's face remained stoic, waving a hand back and forth in front of the screen, trying to gauge what she could see. 

She didn’t even blink. 

“Cooper?” He turned to find Lucy trying to help Norm stand, and he stalked over in an instant to haul the boy up in one motion. Bridal style. He bounces the grumbling boy, resituating him and nodding towards the door. “Move,” he commands, obeyed by Lucy and a zipping Bud. 

“I’ll get the door,” Buddy said cheerfully once they were in the hall. 

The door began to shut.

Headed back for 33, Lucy kept turning back to ensure Cooper was keeping up when they were eventually intercepted by the brothers on their way in. 

30 minutes had gone faster than she expected.

All three turned around and joined the urgent train out of 96. 

Once past the threshold, Lucy found the door closing before she had to input the code. She looked at Bud, who remained silent.

She looked to Max and the others, “Can you watch this door? I have no idea what could come out.”

“E-bots?” Dane asked.

Lucy just shook her head. Turning back to The Ghoul. “We need to get him to medical.”

On the move, Bud followed, albeit roughly 5 feet behind them.

 

---

 

Doctor Weatherill looked up at the sound of her door opening, seeing Lucy’s surface husband and her brother all in one.

“My my Norman, back so soon?” she joked.

Lucy turned the corner, entering the room with a following Robot.

The ghoul laid Norm down on a hospital bed, the boy's eyes fluttering on and off as the Doctor began to check his vitals. “What’s happened now?” She asks Lucy.

“A sedative, apparently, administered through a sort of gas.”

“Ah, yes, super common.” Said the Doctor.

Lucy looked at her in shock.

The doctor pulls away the stethoscope from the boy’s chest and removes its nubs from her ears. 

“I’m only kidding, of course.”

Lucy scowled.

Cooper moved to a corner of the room, finding a seat and taking it. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. Barb is like Bud…He places his head in his hands. And he and Lucy have a…kid. According to Barb, some sort of Janey replacement. No. NO. He can’t fathom replacing Janey—

The doctor shines a light in Norm's fluttering eyes, who turns away in mild annoyance. “Norman? How are you feeling? Can you hear me?”

The boy winces, swatting her away. “Lower your voice and ask me again.”

The Doctor leans back and looks at Lucy with dead eyes. “I think he’s going to be okay, but we’ll get him hooked to a monitor to keep tabs on him.” The good doctor walked away.

Lucy releases a sigh, looking at Norman. She runs her hand over his forehead, brushing through his hair. “Can you stop getting knocked out?” 

Norm huffed a small laugh, “Sorry, it’s kinda my thing now.”

His sister smiles before gruffly turning on the robot in the middle of the room. “What’s the matter with you, Bud! Why would you take him in there—”

“It’s my fault,” Norm said, just as Bud was waking up from his name.

Lucy turned back to look at her brother.

“I tricked him. Told him he could see dad again.” Lucy’s anger began to dissipate as a blue light scanned behind her.

“Hey Lucy! Bud, Bud Askins. How are ya?”

Lucy knelt to the machine, “Buddy, you have to tell me everything about Barb. What’s she doing, and why? You knew she was going to gas the room, and you closed the door to the clinic and 96. I know, you know.” She said sternly.

Bud clicked and grinded. “That information is classified. I can only speak with the overseers of 33 and 32—”

Cooper groans, his hands sliding off his face as he gruffly addresses the robot. “You ain't hear?”

Buddy whirled around, performing another scan before speaking. “What’s that, Coop?”

The Ghoul rolled his eyes at the nickname, but it was better than the conversation being reset. “Lucy‘s been promoted to Overseer of 33. Taking after her Daddy, you know?”

Lucy's eyes flicked between Cooper and the bot, watching Bud turn back around.

“Really?” Bud questioned.

Lucy nodded. “Yes.”

“Hmm, I don’t see those forms in my system—”

“You probably forgot them.” Norm included. “You have been a space case lately.”

Bud was silent before finally answering. “Ha. Don’t I know it.” He turned slightly back to the crouched woman. “Alright, Overseer MacLean. Allow me to tell you… everything.”

 

---

 

---

 

“But the joke was on them. Once they said my name, I became privy to their conversations.”

Cooper shook his head. “I can’t believe she would volunteer for that.”

Norm spoke from the bed. “She sounds like she could have been dying. Did she have a choice?”

“Dying’s one of my favorite choices!” Cooper shouted.

Lucy was sitting criss-crossed on the floor. “Did you tell my dad about this?”

Bud was silent for a moment before speaking out, “Honestly, I forgot.”

“Oh my god, bud.” Lucy face-palmed, and Norm pinched the bridge of his nose.

“That conversation happened on November 26th, 2192. Your dad didn’t wake up until January 13th, 2270. That’s seventy-five years later.”

“No, it’s not,” her brother's hand lifted away from his face. His other arm still tight across his body.

“It’s seventy-six,” Cooper said from his corner. Confidently.

“Seriously?” The young MacLean looked to the right of his bed, sitting up.

The Ghoul slumps in his seat. “fuckin…’” He grumbled.

Lucy turned to look up at Norm from her spot on the floor, “Seventy- Seven?”

He grimaces, “You’re asking?”

“Can I get back to my story?” Buddy asks.

Lucy bent her head, a faint blush coming over her features, “I’ve never been good at doing math in my head.”

“I know. I’ve seen all your report cards. Back to my Story.”

 

---

 

---

 

“That’s it?” Lucy leaned back, “That was just another chat conversation.”

“I’m not a fly on the wall,” Buddy huffed.

Cooper was still nearly bent in half, his left leg bouncing as he spoke, “Why isn’t she gassing the room now? Why didn’t she try when we were in her room?”

Bud turned, “It takes a minute to replenish her storage.” He laughed, “She uses it so often… and I keep her out of 33’s main system—hmmm,” he made a noise.

“What?” Lucy asked.

 “She’s poking around now,” Bud said simply.

With the rest of the room, Lucy looks up at the ceiling. She, however, shrinks down, imagining a woman physically crawling around the vents above.

Lucy looked back down at Bud. “Where is Janey Howard?”

Cooper’s attention is brought back to the floor. Equally interested.

The bot whirled, “Janey is in her Cryo-pod….The signal is coming from the 96 clinic.”

Lucy looked up at Cooper, whose face was confused. They hadn’t seen her, but they hadn’t ventured that far. 

Cooper's heart began to race. “Can she be woken up?”

Bud thought about it. “Tsk... I don’t know.”

The Ghoul looked down and away.

Lucy frowned. “Can you look in…I don’t know…her medical file?”

“Yes!” Buddy said excitedly. 

“Perfect!” She beamed. 

The room was silent in wait for Bud's information.

Eventually…it became clear he wasn’t going to say anything.

“Bud.” She whined, hunching forward.

“Yeah, boss.”

She sat up straighter with a tight breath in “What does her file say?” she breathed out.

“I don’t know, I don’t understand medical jargon.” 

Weatherill, who’d been moving in the background, stepped forward. “If you need someone to understand medical jargon, I may be of assistance.”

Lucy smiled in appreciation before looking back at Bud, “Can you send Weatherill every piece of information you have regarding Janey?”

Bud whirled, “Okie Dokie.”

Lucy frowned, while Cooper nodded to the doctor in thanks before standing. He was still wearing the leather satchel, removing it and heading to the back of the room.

The doctor stopped what she was doing to regard The Ghoul. “What’s this?” she asks, just as Lucy stands to rush towards them. 

She’d forgotten about the bag he’d acquired. 

Cooper spoke first. “I think the information about…” He looked to Lucy, whose brow quirked in his direction. “Um…” he thought, not knowing what to call the kid. It was Lucy’s, but only stating that felt a bit like a cop out on his part.

Lucy stepped forward, taking the satchel from Cooper with a bitter expression. She lowered her voice, for only the doctor to hear. “I was used as a surrogate, and this may supply information about the child taken from me.”

Doctor weatherills eyes went wide as she gently reached for the bag. “Oh, okay. Um, I’ll read into this too.”

The girl nodded. “Thank you,” she said, turning around to face her frowning brother.

Norm spoke up, “No offence to your daughter, but we have a bigger problem at hand. How are we going to turn off the ex-wife computer?”

Lucy looked to her partner, watching his reaction to the idea of shutting down Barb. Without an obvious expression painting his features, she sighed,  “Any ideas, Bud?”

Bud beeped. “For what?”

“How to deactivate Barb,” Cooper added, partially surprising his girl, who he could tell was alittle tiffed with him.

…… “Nnope, not a clue.”

Norm rolled his eyes.

Bud continued, “But I think 96 had come up with a plan; they used to be very active online, but one day they just stopped, and not long after that, Barb gassed them.”

 “We can go to their overseer's office. Look at the last logs,” said Norm.

“There is an absence of logs, that’s what I’m saying.” Bud sounded annoyed. 

Lucy thought hard, her finger tapping against her lips, “Maybe they left a paper trail. We can still go to the office, then the main room…”

Her brother cut in, “What about her tendency of gassing rooms?”

Cooper, who had moved back to his chair, chimed in, “Lucy and I should be okay, may sting a bit, but shouldn’t slow us down.”

“Because Lucy is a ghoul?” Norm said, in a slight question.

“Yes, Norm.” Lucy snapped, not in the mood in the slightest. She turned back to Bud. “Will she be able to track us moving through the vault?”

“She will know when doors are opened. And when you access terminals.”

Lucy nodded before looking at Cooper, “Ready to go?”

He stood, “Yes.”

Looking over to Weatherill at her computer, she was putting on a pair of bifocals. “Did you get the files?” Lucy asked.

The Doctor looked up, “I did, but they’re locked tight behind a firewall…that’s uh, that’s not really my specialty.”

Norm began to slowly roll off his bed. “I’ll get the files open. You two go.”

Cooper placed his hands on his hips to look down at Bud, “Let's go, Buddy.”

Bud took in the words before whirling. “I need to keep Barb back while they work.”

 Lucy moved closer to the entrance, “We’ll be alright without him.”

Norm lifted his head from behind Weatherill’s desk. “You guys should take Thaddeus. He’s got solid knowledge in tech.”

Lucy and Cooper shared a glance before giving each other an agreeable shrug.

 

---

 

 

Lucy and Cooper met the brothers still guarding the entrance.

Updating the three on the current events and then zeroing in on Thaddeus. Lucy explained their desire for his help. “We might need some of your expertise,” she said. Thaddeus perked with a smile, then Cooper clapped a hand over his shoulder. “And your ability to breathe in toxic gas.”

 

 

---

 

The three ghouls entered the death vault.

First stop: The overseer's office of 96.

“You guys think they’d just have a file labeled ‘Plan to turn off  the supercomputer?’”

Cooper was looking inside the drawers of a file cabinet, just inside the entry on the floor, while Lucy sat behind him on a counter, studiously flipping through the papers she’d removed from the above cabinets.

When neither she nor Cooper acknowledged the young bloods' question, Thaddeus huffed and continued his own search. He opened the top compartment of the desk, finding basic office supplies, a stapler, pens, and a tape dispenser. He closed the drawer, shifting to lightly fiddle with the objects on top, moving the dusted intercom microphone to inspect the papers sprawled beneath it. 

Lucy jumped down from her spot, turning slightly to leave the pile of papers she’d had on her lap to the counter. She wiped her hands in a patful clap, the dust clouding off into the air, bringing forward a sneeze she quickly directed into her shoulder. “Achoo.”

“Bless you,” Cooper said without a glance, dropping open a manila folder in focus, agitated to have found it empty.

Lucy sniffled, “Thank you,”  She said, then pointed to the outside. “I’m going to check the hallway bodies. See what they had.”

The Ghoul smiled at her words but pretended to read the pages in front of him as she exited the room.

Sitting back on his butt with a groan, his back hit the couch's bottom. He rubbed his tired ankles, having spent too many minutes crouched. Man, Barb has really put everyone in a bind. He can’t believe the list of enemies she’s acquired over the last 200 years. He can’t believe he’s not at the top of her list. Thinking mainly of Lucy and her losses.

After a few moments of his silent defeat, his girl came running back into the room. “I can’t believe it! She yelled excitedly, “I found it!” 

Cooper moved with an efforted grunt, while Thaddeus came from around the desk, “How do you know?” the youngblood asked.

Lucy blew off the layer of dust on the folder, then held it up for the two to see. “It says ‘Turn off supercomputer; The Plan.’”

Cooper scooted closer to Lucy, brushing her right shoulder with his left. They both looked down, one with eyebrows brought together and the other's demon visage scrunched in concentration.

Thaddeus stood on the other side of the folder, attempting to read upside down. When that proved to be pointless, he stepped back with a sigh. 

He placed bored hands on his hips as he looked around the disheveled room. Once his gaze scanned back over the Ghoul couple’s shoulders, he caught sight of movement. 

Not a moment later, a Mr. Handy robot quietly hovered into the office

He frowned. Surprised to find a robot helper active in the ruined vault. This confusion became understanding as the bot's “eyes” changed red, and an extension saw feature was raised above the vault ghoul and cowboy.

The youngblood sucked in a tight breath, “Evil Robot.”

Cooper turned first, while Lucy looked up, “Huh?” 

The cowboy sees the saw seconds from slicing down into Lucy's top, his sweaty palm finding her side—She was shoved to the ground in a quick succession, her motion thrusting the file into the air, meeting the saw in place of her head.

The folder and its contents were immediately split in half as it fluttered to the floor.

“No!” Lucy shouted.

Thaddeus fell to his knees, dodging a swing from the bot. “Don’t worry, I found tape!” He said, quick fingers attempting to gather the scraps.

Cooper moved forward, grabbing the arm that was meant to hit the boy, wrapping tight around the appendage to halt its strength. The bot spun fast and hard to throw Cooper off, and against the wall. His eyes screwed shut as his limp body slid down to bounce off the couch and to the floor.

Lucy stood up, unholstering her gun to aim for Mr. Handy’s saw as it whirled fast to tongue Cooper’s spine. The shot rang out, stinging its inhabitants’ ears.

The saw hand sparked off as the bullet tore through the robot’s weapon, clattering to the floor.

Cooper rolled up, standing with a flared spin that fanned out the tattered leather strands of his jacket. His gun was pointed in a second as Mr. Handy backed up.

“Cooper.” It said, with the unmistakable voice of his former wife. He lagged. His aim faltering.

Lucy watched the hesitation. 

Movement flickered in the right corner of her vision, chills running down her spine as two more Mr. Handys came in behind their friend, shocking Cooper out of his pause.

Each Ghoul focused on their own Robot. A series of gun shots fire, followed by whirring cuts of wind as the trio of robots spin with their arms extended in a perfect tabletop turn.

All three ghouls lay sprawled around the room. Having been hit with roughly 300 pounds of force each.

Lucy moaned, gasping for air the minute her rib cage snapped back into place. Her eyes were red and irritated as she rolled over to cough, trying not to vomit. Breathe!

Cooper had been tossed over the desk. 

Leaning against the far wall and breathing heavily, he killed time by counting the scattered desk accessories around him. He just needed a small break. Wanting just one year, one where he doesn’t get knocked around. Don’t feel like I’m asking for much.

Thaddeus was lying face down, moaning into a shag rug.

Hunched over and distracted, one of the Mr. Handys was coming towards Lucy. It grabbed her by the hair and pulled. She yelped, her hands gripping near her scalp to ease the tension. “Ow, Sto—” She was pulled out of the room fast, “Cooperrr—” she was taken out of earshot.

Cooper blinked. That's a problem, he realized, sitting forward—a fast-approaching Mr. Handy pushed him back down. 

“Any last words?” Barb voiced through. 

Cooper winced, looking beneath the bot where the youngblood was collecting himself. He shook his head. He doesn't know what—hey, that could work— to his right was the vault intercom microphone. His right hand quickly shuffled forward over paper and pens to click the button down. 

Static crawled out of the corner box at the top of the room.

He cleared his throat. “E-bots.”

Cooper's voice rang across all of 96, the quiet cavernous vault amplifying his voice all the way down the hall where Dane and Max sat. Both Knights simultaneously looking down at the black hall.

Mr. Handy swung down on the microphone; The Ghoul swiped his hand away just in time as the plastic splintered beneath the behemoth hand,  rolling to his left, Cooper pushed off the ground in a flourish.

Thaddeus crawled tummy down with the gathered torn plans fisted tightly as he exited the room.

Cooper rushed out as well, deciding a small room was a terrible place to take on bulky floating spinners. He slammed a palm on the door button before they could be followed, then promptly delivered two shots into the lock panel.  

Bending down to help Thaddeus off the ground, smoke begins to flow from vents lining the hall.

Keeping the paper scraps hugged to his chest, the brother looked around, “Doesn’t she know that’s pointless?”

“Which way do ya think they took Lucy?” The Ghoul wondered aloud, looking from one end of the hall to the other.

“Cooper!” Lucy's voice rang from their right.

Thaddeus pointed, “That way.” 

Loud banging took The Ghouls’ attention away from the hall to the overseer’s office. The sound of robots throwing themselves against the door thundered around them, hinting at a short amount of time left to get away.

“Let's go,” Cooper said. Moving down the hall with Thaddeus close behind.

 

---

 

 Lucy’s tender head was finally released, her tired form relaxing back on the linoleum floor of the med bay. She stayed flat on the ground, her fingers rubbing circles to the top of her head as the door slid shut, locking her inside.

The Mr. Handy bot moved away from the girl, tucking itself into a corner. Lucy looked to her left, eyeing the giant TV that held the image of the less-than-impressed woman.

“Lucy,” Barb said, her voice sounding in the room.

Lucy sat up, arms extending behind herself to stay upright. “Barbara.” She answered. 

“I need your help.” The screened face said.

Lucy stood up, brushing off her pant legs with a laugh. “You’ve never asked before…”

“I need a caretaker for the clone. I figured you’d have an invested interest.”

Lucy stepped forward, “An invested in— She’s mine!” she shouted, finger pointed at herself.

“It was specifically created to, in fact, be mine,” Barb informed her.

Before Lucy could respond, her attention was brought to pounding from behind the door. “Lucy, are you in there?” She heard.

“Cooper!” She yelled, her heart beating faster, as she ran for the door. The lights flickered back and forth. A hand grasped her shoulder, turning her away. Lucy fought against the machine, her hair flipping back and forth as she tried to escape its hold.

Shots sound from behind the wall, the door sliding open with both men pushed inside by charging Mr. Handys. Gun beginning to click; Cooper gritted his teeth as he dodged away from Thaddeus to load.

“Cooper, look out!” Lucy shouted, seeing Mr. Handy gearing up to turn with the strength they knew well.

Looking up in time, his jump back saved his body, but unfortunately, not his gun, as it was knocked free from his hands.

Lucy continued to pull against the tightening arm, aiding in her own strangulation.

Thaddeus aimed at the bot keeping her from the fight. Her eyes closed, standing still as she heard the shot and felt the heated spark of the robot losing its hand. She fell to the ground, her hand reaching her neck as she released a hacking cough.

Looking up, she saw a black mass hurling towards her. She rolled, just in time for Cooper to land at her side.

Lying on his back, Lucy crawled towards Cooper, her hand finding his chest. “Hey,” she said softly. He took a deep breath, “Howdy.” His hand found hers as he looked past the curtain of brown hair to her concerned eyes. She smiled, and he smiled back.

“Guys, I could use some help!” Thaddeus yelled, ducking one arm, but was struck by another, “Ahhhh—” he screamed as he was thrown out of the room, followed by three bots.

Lucy stood, reaching down to help Cooper stand. He groaned, brushing off his pants and looking at the girl. Both turned at the sound of more gunfire. Back to the entrance, the bots floated in backwards as a masked figure walked forward, suppressing fire. Thaddeus came to his side, removing a holstered gun from the masked man's hip, firing in tandem at the bots.

Lucy saw a flash of another body slip into the room, running around the bots to approach them from behind. The second gas-masked figure quickly bent down and smacked the bottom of each distracted floating figure. Leaving behind a bulky box attached with a Semtex-like putty.

Once the lanky figure attached their last box, they stood and delivered a thumbs up. “We’re good!”

The robots turned.

Cooper and Lucy rushed forward, putting themselves in between the robots' planned attack, receiving the brunt of both hammers brought around by the devices, shielding Danes' ribs. The Ghouls smack into the firebug's sides, all three falling to the ground in pain.

Thaddeus and Max reload, continuing to fire for their attention.

Dane stuttered as they rolled over, “We need to get out of the room!” They said muffled. Lucy hugged her side, “They’ll just follow me. She wants me!” she breathed out. Cooper sat up with a wince, seeing the rope wrapped around the brother in a side sash. He pointed. “Give me that.”

The firebug lifted the spool from over their head, tossing it to The Ghoul.

Cooper rolled over, hovering over his girl. “Alright, darlin', assume the position.” He said. 

Lucy didn’t have time to guess what he meant be fore Cooper began tying her feet together.

“Wha—”

Cooper turned to Dane, “Take this.” He handed the end of the rope to the masked brother. Dane understood the assignment running for cover away from the robots.

Lucy watched with big eyes as Cooper leaned forward, cradling her face. “You know what to do.” She pursed her lips, ready to tell Cooper that she, in fact, did not know what to do. But he leaned forward, silencing her with a kiss. He pulled away, his thumb lightly brushing along her cheek, as he smiled. Then left her.

The robots were following the gunmen out of the door, also lunging for Cooper as he jumped out of the room for the end of the rope. She watched as he planted his feet with his back to the wall, ready to pull. She got it.

 “Hey!” She yelled. “Barb!” she shouted again, earning the three bots' attention. “Leave them alone, you want me, right?”

Barb's voice came through the center bot. “Want is an overstatement.” The E-bots continued forward, with what was left of their arms raised.

Cooper watched, waiting for another brother to help with his quest. Thaddeus sat in front, then both ghouls reeled in the rope as fast as they could.

Lucy lay back in an instant, sliding under the bots with the pull of the rope. Once she was just past the entrance, Max slapped the door closed button, bringing the sliding door down.

She turned around, seeing the final gap of the entrance close and catching sight of Barbara's face. The girl… Dane propped themselves against the split wall. Hands poised up with detonators. “Wait—the pod!” Lucy shouted, her hand reaching out, but it was too late; an ear-crushing boom took over the room, and dust sprayed down from above them.

Lucy stood up, rushing for the button. She hoped the explosion wasn’t large enough to reach the next room. She tripped over the falling rope at her ankles. Cooper catches her stumbling body, propping her up with enough strength for her to continue her march forward. She reached the button panel.

“What if they’re still alive?” Thaddeus said, worried as the door reopened.

Smoke puffed out of the room, resulting in all ghouls covering their eyes while the two masked brothers stood still, looking in. Lucy stumbled forward, past the down bots. She covered her nose and mouth, moving to the next room through the smoke.

Cooper followed behind, stopping Lucy before she could venture further. “Hey, she’s alright, the boom wasn’t big enough.” 

She stopped and turned, “But—” 

He continued, “I know, sweetheart, but she ain’t gonna hurt her. We need time to regroup.”

Max shouted, through his mask, “Are we going?” 

Lucy looked down at her shoulder, reaching to trace where her finger sat with his hand. He gives her a gentle squeeze. “Come on, Darlin.” She nodded with a quivering lip. He’s right.

All five heroes ran for the entrance to 33, not leaving any time for Barb to jump out in a new form.

 

---

 

With 96’s door closed and the misplaced hope that Barb wouldn’t just reopen it and send in some type of mechanical hounds, the five make their way back to the 33’s med bay. Some more sore than others.

“Man—” Dane groaned, arm wrapped around their middle. “You guys make great shields, but not perfect ones.” Lucy looked at Dane in apology while Cooper rolled his eyes from behind the group.

Max rubbed his partner’s shoulder in sympathy as they turned into Dr. Weatherill’s domain. Thaddeus chimed in behind, bouncing up on a bed near the one Max helped Dane into. “I think four of my ribs snapped at one point. Those things knew how to swing.”

Cooper slumped down into his old seat in the corner, watching as Lucy silently sat herself on a free bed. 

The young boy MacLean exited the bathroom, “You all look like crap.”

Dane turned over on their side. “Feel like crap.”

Cooper wiped his face and leaned forward. “What did ya’ll find out?”

Norm shrugged, “Bud and I got through 15 minutes ago, then Weatherill kicked us out, something about doctor-patient confidentiality.”

A blue light emerged from behind a desk. Then a Bot emerged, “Boy, you guys sure pissed off Barb.”

“I imagine,” Cooper said, leaning back in his seat, to briefly rest his eyes. 

Norm moved closer to his sister, “Did you guys figure out how to stop Barb?”

Lucy rested back, speaking through a closed expression, “Thaddeus has it.”

Everyone’s attention turned to a sudden gasp that escaped the youngblood ghoul.

Cooper and Lucy sat up quickly. 

“What?” The Ghoul growled. They did not go through all that for him to leave the damn file behind.

The brother covered his face with his hands. “I forgot the tape,” he wailed.

Lucy's shoulders fell, the tension leaving her body. “Norm, could you get us some tape, please?”

“Alright,” he shrugged, walking out of the room. 

Dr. Weatherill exited her office, giving them a small smile. This reassured Lucy, but Cooper, however, felt something stir in his gut. 

“I’m glad you’re back—” She said, only stopping suddenly when she looked over at Dane, “Are you in need of immediate attention?” she asked. 

The wounded brother shook their head. “Bruised ribs, nothing broken….” Dane grimaced, “I’m fairly certain I know what that feels like.” Max rubbed more soothing motions on their back, concern etched over his features. 

The doctor nodded lightly, “Okay…Good.” She smiled again and turned back to Lucy and her husband. “Can I speak to you two in the office?”

Lucy smiled, “Of course.” She said, moving off her bed. Cooper frowned and stayed rooted in his spot. When he didn’t immediately follow, Lucy turned with confusion in her eyes. “Cooper, come on.” She said, extending her hand.

His heart was beating loudly in his ears, as a hot blush ran up his neck, blooming across his face. He really didn’t like the doctor's tone. 

“Cooper,” she said again. 

Hazel eyes flicked to the hand, forcing the noticeable twitch of his jaw. The room was quiet as he took her offer, allowing himself to be dragged to the small corner office.

Weatherill closed the door behind them, gesturing to a little couch on the wall. “Please make yourselves comfortable.”

Cooper stared down at the couch, watching Lucy settle with a small bounce. She spoke to him as Weatherill took her seat behind a desk. “Sit, she’s going to tell us about Janey.”

Tell us about Janey.

What could the Doctor say about Janey? That he didn’t already know.

Not in control of his body, Cooper lowered down, with stone eyes, staring straight ahead into the front panel of the doctor's desk. 

The doctor smiled, her clasped hands unfurling as she began to speak. “So I wanted to discuss Janeys' results, and then the child taken from…” She gestured at Lucy, “Well, you,” she finished. 

Lucy nodded, taking Cooper’s frozen left hand in hers.

“Are you aware that she was exposed to a large amount of radiation…it would seem,” She raised a paper that had been newly printed, “Around the same time, the original bombs fell?”

The couch was quiet. 

Lucy looked at Cooper, trying to gauge his reaction before hesitantly turning back to the doctor, “I…I didn’t know that,” she looked back to him, “Did you know that?”

Cooper’s teeth briefly brought in his bottom lip before he nodded softly. “Yeah,” He whispered.  His right hand slid down his leg, gripping at his knee.

Weatherill looked down past her glasses, “I can tell that there have been some valiant efforts to… reverse the effects that that had on her.”

Cooper felt the hand in his tighten, as Lucy's posture began to stiffen. This is pointless. He doesn’t need to be in this fucking room. Having his hand held—

“It is in my professional opinion, however, that those efforts—” Cooper stood up, cutting off the doctor.

Lucy looked up as he dropped her hand, “What’s—” He turned and walked out of the room.

She looked back at the doctor, standing, “I’m sorry—”

“It’s more than okay.” The doctor said behind the woman as she followed her ghoul.

Lucy moved past the brothers, already reeling from The Ghoul that stormed past.

Halfway through the exit, Lucy ran into Norm, carrying tape. “Where are you going?” he asked, turning his head to see a leatherback disappear around a corner. Next, his sister continued to move away, waving behind herself and not looking back. “I’ll be back,” she said.

Lucy was left following Cooper for a minute before finding him at a dead-end hall. She stopped studying his rigid back. “Where are you going?” she asked.

He turned, arms wide. “Fucking nowhere! This place is a god damn maze—”

“Hey, hey—” she crept forward, “It's going to be okay, whatever she tells us, we will figure something out.”

“There ain't nothing to figure out!” He growled.

“You didn’t even hear everything she had to say—”

“I don’t need to.” He said, panic flaring in his eyes as his hand flew up to rub at his scalp. He backed into the wall and slid down, knees almost pressed to his chest as he hid his face.

Lucy watched him shrink, her heart thundering against her chest as she slowly stalked forward to sit beside him. 

When a gentle hand found his shoulder, he finally leaned up, a line of water breaking from sorrowful eyes. “I’ve been alive a long time.” He told her, his voice hushed by the wet slick coating his throat. Lucy nodded softly.

“I—” he stopped, bringing up his thumbs to rub small circles into his eyes, trying to relieve the pressure forming.

Lucy leaned her head on his shoulder as he took in a sharp breath.

“I saw what the bombs did to everythin’,” he stuttered, looking tightly at her. “It destroyed buildings, caused earthquakes—” He swallowed, “a-and through my own ex—experience…I figured out what so much radiation could do,” he pats chest, “I lost my hair, my nose—I vomited for days, until I was sure all the only thing coming up was my insides.” 

Lucy’s sad eyes looked to where his hand was sprawled on his chest— His next words coming out with a violent tremor. “It killed my horse,”  his voice cracked, hands covering his face in an instant as he released a series of erratic breaths.

Her hand rubbed circles into his back- “That’s how I knew.”  

“Knew?” she asked softly, fighting off her own incoming tears, cause god;  She thinks she knows now, too.

He lifted his head, a sucking suction sound emitting from his nose hole as he hiccuped. Hot tears had moistened his skin, the red hue tinting against the faint glow of the vault tunnel.

He knows why Barb has gone to these lengths.

To make the impossible possible.

To stop the inevitable…

 “Janey died after I gave her to Hank.” 

“I’m sorry,” she managed to whisper, because she didn’t feel there was much room to argue now that she understood; all of the doctor's mannerisms had been a prelude to giving Cooper the news he’d been avoiding all this time.

Gravel gargled his words, “I just wanted her to have a family.” 

Lucy hugged his side, burying her face in his arm. “She did.”

Cooper continued to cry, snapping his head back against the steel wall. The loud clang, framing her small voice. “She did.”