Chapter Text

Saddle Up

Saddle Up: Get ready to go; get ready to ride; to leave

Lucy trudged behind the Ghoul, struggling to keep up, but refusing to show any signs of weakness to the man. Although she didn’t know why he asked her on this journey, she sure as heck didn’t want him to abandon her. His motivations might be suspect, but he was all she had out here. In the week or so since they left the observatory behind, he hadn’t hurt her or tried to kill her once, so maybe he’d changed. Ha, she thought he just wants something from you. She hadn’t quite figured out what yet, but she doubted his intentions were good. Regardless of what his goals might be, she wanted to find her father. The Ghoul seemed like the best way to accomplish that.

But she still wasn’t sure what she would do when they caught up with her dad. The darker side of her, the part helping her survive out here, wanted to put a bullet hole right between his eyes, just like she did to her mother. Of course, her reasons for doing so would be vastly different. Lucy considered killing her mother an act of mercy. Killing her father, well, it’d be revenge, plain and simple.

The rest of her, the good parts leftover from Vault Lucy, didn’t think she could do such a thing. She saw him for what he was now, but he was still her father. The dad who’d watched her grow up, tucked her in every night and taught her right from wrong.

Which, looking back on it, was hilarious. Not in a laugh out loud way, of course, but amusing just the same. He’d always urged her to be kind to others and follow the Golden Rule. Although, apparently, he didn’t think it was a rule he should follow, considering the whole destroying tens of thousands of lives because his wife left him. Oh, he tried to justify it as just doing his job in order to protect the vaults, but that was a load of bullcrap. He’d felt slighted and enraged that his wife dared to take his kids and live on the surface with the woman she loved.

Although she had a hard time thinking of her mother loving anyone but her father, Lucy saw the way Moldaver talked about Rose. The way her eyes lit up when they landed on the feral ghoul her mother had become. As much as Lucy felt horrified at her mother’s state, she understood why Moldaver kept her alive. Love tended to make people go a little crazy. Not that she knew from experience, but she’d read about it. Maybe all the dang radiation made people act nuts. Would she lose it if she stayed on the surface? 

She hoped not.

“You going to walk that slow all day, sweetheart?” The Ghoul paused to look back at her, his hat pulled low enough to hide his eyes in shadow. Dogmeat (a truly terrible name for such a lovely animal) sat by his side, her tongue hanging out slightly in doggy joy as the man scratched her behind the ears.

Lucy, still not up to her normally inquisitive self, shook her head and increased her speed until she fell alongside the oddly endearing pair. She found it hard to see him as a threat anymore (even though she knew he could kill her if he felt like it) when he petted the adoring dog with such care.

Oh, she still hated him with an intensity that worried her, but she wasn’t as terrified of him as she’d been after the whole finger incident. Now, she just considered him a raging asshole, albeit a useful one. For all his many (so many) faults, he turned out to be surprisingly useful in life-or-death situations. His whole stone-cold killer vibe worked far better during conflicts than her attempts at de-escalation. But gosh darn it, she’d still try her best to solve issues with words over guns.

But guns sure were handy when words failed.

“I’m startin’ to find myself missing your chatterbox ways, Vaultie. This whole silent act you’ve got going on is a mite disturbing, to be honest.” He slowed his pace a bit to match hers, his tone as dry as the sand surrounding them. 

She debated remaining silent, but she was so dang tired of living in her head. “I would’ve thought you preferred the quiet.”

He turned to look at her, one corner of his thin mouth pulling up. “I guess I changed my mind.”

She rolled her eyes. “What would you like to discuss? Your name? How you knew my father? Why you asked me to join your quest? Or how about the part about your wife’s dry-cleaning?” She paused her string of questions for a moment before one more occurred to her. “And what is dry-cleaning?”

His eyes narrowed. “Ex-wife,” he hissed through clenched teeth, making her think he was not in the mood to answer any of her questions. “How ‘bout you tell me why you put a bullet through the head of that feral ghoul.”

Lucy swallowed past the lump that welled up in her throat, trying to remember her mom as she’d been twenty years ago, not what she’d become. “No one deserves to live like that,” she replied, keeping her voice even. She didn’t want to delve into any of that at the moment.

The Ghoul (she really needed another name for him) nodded his head in agreement. “That may be true, but I reckon there’s a bit more to it than that.” He stopped walking again, giving her a once over. When she didn’t elaborate further, he shrugged carelessly. “It’ll be dark in a bit, so we’d best be looking for somewhere to rest for the night.”

Without waiting for a reply, he resumed his journey, leaving Lucy and Dogmeat to catch up to him. Dogmeat, having four legs and far more energy than she had at the moment, reached him quickly. Lucy, on the other hand, happily let the man walk a few paces in front of her. She needed time to herself to wade through the storm of her emotions.

As she trudged through the dirt and dust, her thoughts drifted to Maximus. She hoped he made it out okay. He’d been sweet, if a little awkward. She’d feel terrible if something happened to him. The old Lucy wouldn’t have left him behind, but this new one realized he would’ve complicated the situation. Maybe, when this journey ended, they’d meet again. They could even settle down in her vault together to live out their lives, content and safe.

After everything she learned, she was starting to think she didn’t want to go back to her Vault. At least, not permanently. She wanted to see her brother again as well as Steph and Chet. She just wasn’t sure she could return to the ignorant bliss of her past. The idea of pretending none of this ever happened made her want to weep. The vaults pretended to be a little slice of Americana, hidden away beneath the earth. But, as she understood now, they were really a corporate nightmare spoon-feeding them lies and propaganda. 

No, she didn’t think she could go back, even if she wanted to. That life wasn’t for her, not anymore. She didn’t know what she’d do after this little adventure, but she might just end up staying out here. The Wasteland might be a dirty, terrible place, but at least it was honest. 

Sort of like the man she was following. He was a horrible, awful, nasty person, one who didn’t question eating people and cut off fingers without flinching, but at least he wasn’t hiding it. No, The Ghoul made it clear he was a bad, bad man. And what did it say about her that she found more comfort in that fact than she had in any of Maximus’s kisses or promises?

She wasn’t sure what the future held for her, but she couldn’t be that girl from before. The one who put on the vault wedding dress while eagerly awaiting the simple life she’d been promised since birth. A life of marriage and children, a life in the vaults, a life of ignorant bliss. 

Those dreams had been lost when her so-called husband stabbed her, forcing her to fight for her life. All her experiences between that moment and this one hadn’t helped. Some of those had even been caused by the man walking in front of her. But, and she would never say this out loud, a part of her liked this new Lucy. She didn’t need anyone to save her or take care of her. This Lucy was a survivor. She might not enjoy clawing her way across the barren landscape and she sure as heck didn’t like killing people, but she’d do what was necessary to survive. And that made her feel strong.

Lucy might not be as ruthless as her new companion, but she was a fighter. And no one would ever make her feel weak again.

Cooper rolled his cigarette carefully by the light of the small fire while he watched his travel partner out of the corner of his eyes. It wasn’t smart to light them usually, but since he was probably the scariest monster out here, he wasn’t too worried. Anything showed up, he’d kill it before it ate the dog or the girl. Maybe. He still didn’t know why he’d invited her on this little journey, but he’d survived by trusting his instincts and his gut said she should be here. That was good enough for him.

And sure, he’d spent the last week sleeping with one eye open, not entirely trusting her not to shoot him in the face while he slept. Not that he’d blame her if she did, but he preferred to keep what little of his face he had left.

After watching her put that bullet perfectly between the eyes of that feral ghoul, he reasoned he had the right to be a tad concerned. Oh, she looked all innocent and naive, but he’d sensed the darkness in her the moment they’d met in Filly. She was a killer, every pretty little inch of her. He liked it. Maybe too much. 

Not that he planned on mentioning that fact to her anytime soon. He figured she’d end up shooting him on principle.

“It was my mother,” the girl remarked, seemingly out of nowhere. He lifted his gaze to look at her, wishing briefly for an eyebrow to raise in her direction. “The ghoul. It was my mother,” she added when he remained silent, her attention focused on the fire in front of her.

Cooper wasn’t quite sure how to reply to that bit of information. He wasn’t one for offering sympathy, not anymore. Maybe the man he’d been before all this shit would’ve given her a shoulder to cry on, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to do it now. 

“Is that so?” He licked the end of the rolling paper before lighting the cigarette in the fire. 

“Yep,” she stated like it didn’t mean anything, but even a man as jaded as Cooper heard how haunted she was by her actions. He debated probing this little fact a bit more, but he didn’t really give a damn, so he stayed quiet. “So, I answered your question.”

“Sure did, darlin’.” He exhaled a plume of smoke into the dark night, his world-weary eyes watching the woman from beneath the brim of his hat. She was a curiosity, that was for sure. Who’d have thought such a tiny, cheerful bit of fluff could put a bullet in her own mother? It almost made him respect her.

“What’s your name?” 

He rolled his eyes. “No.”

“No?” She sounded annoyed, which only increased his amusement. If nothing else, at least she was entertaining. “I answered your question so you should answer one of mine now. It’s only polite.” 

“I ain’t polite.” He chuckled dryly when she made an irritated noise. “How about we drop it and get some shut eye?”

He expected her to be a mite put out, but he hadn’t anticipated her hurling a rock at his head. So, when it barely missed him and slammed into the tree behind him, he was more than a little surprised. And mad. Given his lack of impulse control, it shouldn’t have shocked her either when he pulled his gun out and pointed it at her perky little chest. 

“You’re an asshole.”

“That I am. Now, how about you apologize for that little stunt, so I don’t shoot you.”

Her hair fell across her shoulder as she cocked her head at him. He saw her weighing the odds of him killing her. She nibbled at her plump lower lip, unintentionally drawing his attention to her perfectly shaped mouth. He briefly wondered what she’d do if he laid his lips on that mouth and replaced those pearly whites with his own.

Kill him, maybe. Bite something off, probably. Not that he had any intention of doing such a thing. He didn’t actually want to kiss her or anything. He was merely curious about her reaction. Or at least, that was what he was going to tell himself. 

After a moment of charged silence where they eyed each other with suspicion, she finally relented. “I’m sorry I threw a rock at your head.” 

He didn’t believe a word of her apology, especially considering she muttered about how she was sorrier she’d missed. But in the interest of not ending their little partnership by murdering her pampered ass, he gave her a nod and holstered his weapon.

“I’ll keep first watch.” He leaned back against the rock behind him, stretching his long legs out in front of him. The girl looked about ready to keel over dead in exhaustion making her essentially useless whereas he wasn’t feeling particularly tired at the moment. Not that he had any intention of letting her know that. He wanted her to think he was doing her a favor, something she might have to repay later what with all her Golden Rule bullshit.

As she settled herself, he pushed his hat over his head before laying his hands across his belly, preparing to enjoy the silence once she’d fallen asleep. Dogmeat joined him, settling her body against his legs, her head on his lap and a soulful look in her eyes. Unable to resist her silent pleas for attention, he ran his fingers through her fur absentmindedly as he watched the woman across from him make herself as comfortable as she could on the cold, hard ground.

The night was blissfully quiet for a while, enough for him to relax for the first time in a week. Her whole not talking thing had started to grate on his nerves, making him think she might be plotting something nefarious. Now that she was speaking again, he was less worried about her murdering him.

The sound of a small sniffle roused him from his relaxed state. At first, he thought the whimper came from the dog, but when it happened again, he realized the noise came from the Vaultie. The girl was crying and trying to hide it. He couldn’t blame her for that. She probably thought he’d yell at her or mock her or kill her. Cooper might not be a good man or a nice one, but he figured she was past due for a good cry. Hell, she had her entire world knocked upside down, shot her mother and learned everything she believed was a load of shit. Not to mention, taking off with the ghoul who’d dragged her through the Wastelands, cut off her finger and sold her to organ harvesters. 

Of course, she’d solved that all on her own. The girl had brass balls, he’d give her that. 

When she released another stifled sob, he sighed. Maybe it was some twinge of conscience left over from his days as Cooper Howard, all around good guy, that made him speak.

“I’m sorry about your mom,” he said gruffly, making sure not to look anywhere near her. He didn’t want her thinking he cared. Because he didn’t. Not one iota. She didn’t say anything, but her stifled cries tapered off. “And you can call me Cooper.”