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It happens so quickly. One moment, the brainwashed legionary has her pinned down, her father has a hand on the back of her neck, holding her still. The next…
A blade whistles through the air.
The body behind her staggers and drops with a thud.
Lucy turns around, and he’s there. Dropping his knuckle-duster to the ground- there’s a Pip-Boy on his arm- and ripping his sidearm from his holster with such force that the safety strap breaks off. He raises it up, and fires without a beat of hesitation.
And beside her, her dad gives a short cry and joins the legionary on the ground. “Ah, come on.”
She watches him turn to prop himself up against the metal railing, and that’s when the Ghoul starts to speak. Lucy redirects her attention to him. “If it was up to me, it wouldn’t be your ass bleedin’ out all over the floor.” The cold rage in his eyes fades. “But it ain’t up to me.”
His foot moves. Kicks the knuckle-duster, slides it across the floor straight to her.
She pins it beneath her own boot, and carefully picks it up. Studies it as she does, before looking back to him.
“What say you, Vaultie?”
He’s letting her choose what to do to her dad. After all the mocking he’d done of wanting to bring him to justice, the Ghoul’s letting her do it her way anyway. Giving her one of his own weapons, knowing full well he may never see it again, that she might not even use it.
He’d saved her.
His fingers brush the bottom of his hat brim, in that way he’s done a few times in their travels. There’s something like respect in his gaze.
But Lucy’s mind sees the gesture and thinks back to one of the last times she’d been in the same room as her dad and a cowboy. A cowboy on a television screen, who’d used that same exact gesture.
All the times she’s asked him his name, and she’d had the pieces all along. His voice, the blue collar peaking from beneath his vest…She knows who he is, now.
And he’s already walking away.
“Wait!” She calls at his back, taking half a step forward. “Cooper.”
The way he stops and turns, tilting his head in curiosity, there’s never been a truer confirmation of anything than that.
“Thank you,” she breathes.
His mouth tugs into an amused grin, and he shakes his head. “Never did tell you my name, did I?” His features soften. The front of his outfit is still stained with blood. His own, put there by her. And yet, this is the kindest he’s ever been to her. “I think that about makes us even, now. And that means that my job here is done.”
“Will-” her voice cracks a little. “Will I ever see you again?”
“Well, we didn’t meet by accident, did we?” is all he says, heels shifting below him. “Take care of yourself, Lucy. You’re one of the good ones.”
He inclines his head one last time, turns, and continues on.
Away.