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Chapter Text

Nearing the North Gate, Hank MacLean realized that, even though he had been suited up in a T-60 and looked more like a steroid version of the Tin Man from Oz than Toto, he might just as well known what the proverbial dog felt like when it went running with its tail between its leg.

Though the city of New Vegas offered the slightest chance of hope for him - one he had to seize no matter what the cost - and the fallout from what had happened at the Griffith Observatory had been more of a draw than a defeat, he still couldn't help but feel that he had lost more than he could have ever feared while leaving Lucy behind with Cooper Howard, or the Ghoul as we was looking more like these days.

You can't stop thinking of her face, that's why, the inner voice kept whispering to him. You might be alive right now, always a blessing, but you still see her eyes as Moldaver told her what you'd done to Shady Sands...

To Rose.

No.

Not only that.

In truth, the feeling had started even before Moldaver had started describing her version of things.

It had started when Lucy had...

No.

Better not to think of it.

Just finish the mission at hand, Hank chided himself professionally, then you can start repairing your family.

Walking up to the entrance of the fabled New Vegas strip, Hank was surprised not to see any of House's fabled securitrons there to greet him.

Reports from above had become somewhat shaky and unreliable after the destruction of Shady Sands, but he still would have believed some faint whisper over whatever had befallen Vegas in the last five years would have reached them.

Something had happened here, that much was obvious from the debris littering the start of the yellow brick road that they called the Strip. It was an accumulation of mostly tech stuff, bodies of uncommishioned securitrons mixed in with NCR Vertibirds, but the skulls and decaying remains of what appeared to be Deathclaws were also scattered about.

He'd come across a few of those in the desert on his way over here, as well.

But to see them in New Vegas?

When Bud had been sending his memos about what was going on above ground, and from the little snippets he himself had overheard when trying to convince Rose to come back home, Hank had heard that New Vegas had somehow been turned into a monument of pre-war existence, a money focused oasis in the damaged wastelands.

There had been some talk about a battle at Hoover Dam and the unexpected arrival and machinations of someone they called the Courier, which had swung things entirely in Robert House's favor

Whatever that was all about, it no longer mattered, he supposed.

You couldn't tell by looking at things now that House had experienced any sort of victory.

Had he been put back in his place by the...

Another thought to push down inside of him, Hank MacLean knew. It was to dangerous to even think about them.

Entering farther in, Hank saw a few actual people in New Vegas, and more surprisingly still, a few securitrons rolling around on their solitary wheels. He thought about approaching one, but then thought against it. Better to approach a human being and test things out first.

Luckily, for him, a mother and her child were quickly walking by, avoiding looking at either the robots passing or the stranger in steel approaching them.

"Excuse me...excuse me ma'am," Hank said, trying to win her attention with his most ingratiating tone while escaping notice from one of House's security.

Her back to him, the woman slowly turned...

Revealing a pretty face, minus one eye and with a mouth torn into a permanent frown. Oversized black stitches looked like they were the only thing keeping the rest of her face in place.

As he involuntarily took a step back, the little girl looked at him in a mixture of fear and anger.

"Um...I...I'm new to Vegas," he stammered. "But, I had heard it was supposed to be a mecca for any survivors. Could you possibly tell me what exactly happened here?"

Her one eye blinked.

"Tharted with the Deathclawth," she replied with a slur. "They got into the thity..."

"All this from a Deathclaw attack? Hank interrupted, almost smiling in hysterics. How had they even gotten in? House had taken down missiles and bombs, how could he not have defended the city against the intrusion of a group of genetically engineered monsters?

"Yeth...We were living in Freethide at the time...That'th when Houthe let uth Freethiders in here."

Her words left him with two strong impressions:

First was that the reason he had experienced no trouble while passing through Freeside was because it had eventually dissolved into New Vegas and now was no more.

Second, the woman had mistakenly believed he was referring to the fact that at-one-point undesirables (as in the poor) were now freely roaming the streets of New Vegas and not its current state of disrepair.

"No...I...Unn...Th-thank you," he said in embarrassment, blinking heavily.

The woman nodded and then turned hurriedly around to try to get away. During their escape, her daughter turned back once and fixed him with a dirty stare, one which might as well have said, "How dare you hurt my mommy."

She had apparently raised a kind and compassionate daughter, Hank gleaned, a hope for the future as they would have proclaimed in the Vault.

All Hank MacLean could think, though, as he resumed his journey to the Lucky 38 was how much she had reminded him of Lucy.

He let it come back to him fully then, the moment he had started to wish he was dead back at the Observatory. It hadn't been when his little girl had learned the truth or even when she'd turned on him, demanding he give up the passcode.

It was how decent she had been beforehand.

"But it’s…not really how I was raised. So…if you don’t mind, I’m gonna keep things civil."

Those were the words which had broken him.

In that moment, he had known he had raised a person far better than he could ever be.

Hank shook his head, pushing himself to move forward, knowing that the Ghoul would be hot on his heels, at the same time trying to reason himself towards some modicum of hope that he could eventually fix his relationship with Lucy.

If he had just had more time with her, more time to explain what had really happened, when her head was a little more clear and she could see sense and reason a little more clearer...

Explain to her that he hadn't been the only one to condemn the world and the NCR.

Nearing the roulette shaped building, which he noted was in perfect condition, Hank was grateful to leave behind the New Vegas Strip and its wreckage.

Why? You did worse to Shady Sands, the cursed voice returned, pointing out what he was already painfully aware of.

Along with Lucy's bright eyes filled with agony, he couldn't stop seeing Rose's ghoulified face whenever he closed his eyes.

At the doors to the 38, another securitron appeared, this one rolling right at him at a fairly fast speed.

Great, Hank thought, seeing it more up close.

Another cowboy.

"Slow down pardner," the securitron warned in the friendliest of tones, the image on his monitor displaying a grinning face in a ten gallon hat. "I'm Victor, and I'm just warning you now that nobody, and I mean nobody, gets into this building without a right good cause."

An explanation seemed to be in order.

"I'm Hank MacLean and I request an audience with your boss, Mr. House," he said, then winced feeling like he had come off too much like a knight and not the intimidating Vault-Tec exec that he was aiming for.

It must have been the T-60 suit.

Not that he had a prayer of actually being threatening, not when he was standing in a city one man had single handedly kept from falling apart on the day the Great War began and whom had, reportedly, destroyed his own brother too.

Of course, Hank realized absently, he himself had managed to bomb the NCR's great settlement of Shady Sands, no small feat in itself.

While his wife was still in it.

He felt his stomach getting queasy again with the same feeling of nausea he'd felt when Lucy had been saying she had been raised right.

Oh what he wouldn't give for an Alka seltzer and to back in his cushy room in Vault 33!

The face of the cowboy, didn't really change but he knew he was being studied.

"Gotta clear this with, Mr. House. I reckon, this won't take long."

It didn't.

No sooner had the robot spun around, then he was spinning back again.

"This way," Victor was soon instructing and Hank obediently followed.

A wonderful cool breeze hit the skin on his sunburned face as he entered the Lucky 38 casino and Hank wished he only felt confident enough to take off the dratted T-60 and feel the breeze all over the rest of him.

Looking around the room, Hank frowned.

The only things in the building seemed to be securitrons.

Why then did House have air conditioning on?

Was some human, loitering about unseen?

Perhaps the infamous courier?

He wanted to talk to House alone, without a human present with their own potential motivations and biases.

"'Fraid you gotta remove your armour, bud," Victor suddenly stated, "If you wish to come further, that is. Anything associated with the Brotherhood...well, it ain't exactly welcomed here."

MacLean's scowl deepened.

"But I'm not of the Brotherhood," he protested, advising himself against explaining how he had wound up in the cursed T-60.

"House rules," the securitron stated almost sheepishly and with what passed for a shrug.

With not even enough enthusiasm for a sigh, Hank stepped out of the T-60, getting his wish to experience the air conditioning better but at the expense of his feeling of added security.

"Now, you really sure you wanna see, Mr. House? Really, really sure?"

"I'm certain," Hank nodded

"Mr. House he...well, he ain't too much up for visitors these days."

"I think he'll want to see me," Hank stated calmly.

"Gotcha," Victor stated before taking him to the penthouse and presumably House.

* * *

"You look pretty hot and tired," another securitron was saying, Victor left behind at the elevator. This one housed the image of a dark-haired girl on her monitor.

To Hank's eyes and memory, she resembled an actress House had been rumored to be fond of.

"You need a shower and a drink before you see, Mr. House?" she inquired.

"That won't be necessary," he answered. "Unh..."

"Jane," the securitron said happily.

MacLean glanced back towards the lift where he'd left Victor. He preferred the cowboy's company for once, frightened over what Robert House used this female securitron for.

"That won't be necessary, Jane," he repeated, now including her name.

"Sure thing then, sugar...Go in and see our Mr. House. He's waiting for you in his office."

As heavy as his feet felt approaching where he'd been directed, Hank believed he might as well have still been wearing the T-60.

When he saw the huge image of Robert House looming before him, in a sequence of lines and cast primarily in green, he seriously thought about turning around and going back.

Only the thought of Cooper Howard and Lucy prevented him from doing so.

The stationary image of House seemed to study him as if some foul, diseased tumbleweed had rolled off of the wastelands and into his office.

"Hank MacLean," House said. "One of Bud Askins cherished buds..."

"Mr. House."

"What brings you here, might I ask? Or did you come to drop a bomb on us too? If you haven't noticed, Mr. MacLean, we have our own problems to deal with."

There was a detatchment to the tone, a sly coldness which the man had always possessed, even in the flesh, but something new was contained in his voice now, something Hank liked even less than before because it was new.

What it was though...?

Well, he couldn't say.

"I can see that and you have my deepest apologies," Hank stated.

The frozen image of House continued to loom over him, bright and unmoving. "Still acting the part of an exec, I see. All politeness and false sentiment."

MacLean said nothing. It was hard to deny the truth. Just as hard as it was to fight his nature.

"Why are you here?" House asked again, his tone matter of fact and down to business.

"I seek sanctuary and protection."

"In Vegas? Exactly why?"

"A man is after me and you were my safest bet."

"Blowing up a city will have that effect. Excuse me for my lack of sympathy," House mused without any concern.

Hank did not bother to correct the incorrect assumption that the threat had to do with Shady Sands. From what he'd heard, House had been a fan of Cooper Howard before the Great War. It might have been mere rumor, but he couldn't chance it. Best that the ruler of New Vegas not know whom he was to protect him from until the proper incentive had been offered.

He might just as well cut to the chase, the former leader of Vault 33 decided.

"I know things..." Hank teased. "Information you might be interested in. Things even the spy you planted at Vault-Tec couldn't discover."

The screen bearing House flickered, and Hank MacLean took it to be as good of a sign as he could have wished for.

"Like who might have sent the Deathclaws your way," Hank cast more bait.

The screen grew brighter, some inner desire now motivating House into giving his visitor exactly what he wanted:

Time.

"I'm listening," House said as a large smile cut through the grime on Hank MacLean's face.

Chapter Text

There was something moist, hot and smelly roughly rolling all over her face and Lucy, whom had previously been fast asleep, now panicked as she woke up with a start, her eyelids being frequently assaulted and unfortunately unable to lift to discover the identity of her assailant.

Whatever the thing was, it was trying to eat her, licking off her very skin and trying to, in effect, have her for its breakfast.

Her first thought was that some fresh threat had found them, presumably while The Ghoul (whom usually took care of such things, while giving her an impromptu lesson during which) had been away.

Then the thought alarmingly occurred to her, what if it was the Ghoul?

Maybe he had finally tired of the hidden stash of ass jerky, recently acquired from some fiends, and decided to turn to another cheek, so to speak.

This one alive.

"Hey, hey, HEY!" she cried out in protest, her arms flailing as she tried to sit up and open her eyes.

Only to find Dogmeat sitting there and staring at her, the tongue the canine had weilded as a weapon against her hanging happily out of the dog's mouth.

Lucy looked hastily around to find  where the Ghoul was, quickly spotting him sitting at a breakfast campfire about 6 feet away. He was staring at them both with an inscrutable glint in his dark eyes. His mouth methodically worked, chewing at whatever he had chosen to eat and Lucy was just grateful, and a tad bit embarrassed, that it wasn't her.

"Umm...I...I thought maybe," Lucy started then halted.

The Ghoul glared, as if he somehow suspected just what she had thought. He began to chew a little slower, frown a little deeper.

"It's just, I didn't know," to help her explain, Lucy's hands began moving about, as if they had a prayer of helping her. But then the Ghoul lowered his head, as if letting her know nothing could, so she shouldn't even bother.

"Okaaaaay," she said, cringing as Dogmeat gave her cheek another lick.

Patting the dog's head, Lucy eventually stood, joining her companion for the first meal of the day.

"Good morning," she tried to start things over, this time on a better foot.

To which the Ghoul just offered her an even better look at the top of his hat.

Frowning, the girl sat, wondering why it was always her business to say hi every morning.

Just like it was always his business to ignore her.

Maybe she wouldn't have assumed he was trying to eat her if he could try to be just a little more cordial.

Lucy sighed.

The Ghoul sure might have invited her to come along with him for the journey, but that was about as far as it went between them. Besides from a few formal instructions, and the barest of small talk when he was in a good mood (i.e. usually after killing something), he had no interest in playing the role of companion and every effort she'd made to try to bridge the distance between them had been shot down, even when she had been offering her gratitude from his saving her from this or that threat on their way to a place called "New Vegas".

New Vegas.

He'd only offered up the name of their destination after she'd annoyed him so badly by asking for it a million times. No joking. He'd probably been hoping it might shut her up.

No such luck.

Lucy knew she was a sociable creature at heart, having gotten along with nearly everyone in Vault 33.

Socializing wasn't completely a skill the Ghoul had apparently honed, however.

Or maybe it was just her, Lucy thought.

Maybe it was just her he didn't like.

Why had he asked her to go along with him then, she silently wondered, when he'd started out on his mission to track down his "stuck pig"?

Oh right.

That was answered easily enough:

The stuck pig in this case was her father, Hank MacLean.

In the back of her mind, Lucy MacLean hadn't decided if the Ghoul wanted her to come along as some sort of collateral-cum-bargaining chip or to further wreck the opinion she had of her father along the way.

As if that were possible.

As she often did when her mind started to go in the direction of her dad, Lucy made a quick detour to some other topic to avoid any subsequent pain.

"So, who or what are we eating today?" she asked, trying to offer up a smile and tone of voice which might persuade the Ghoul to actually look at her.

"Same as yesterday," he mumbled, without moving anything but his mouth.

"Oh," she murmured.

"It's near 'bout ready to go bad soon. Better eat all of it you can," he ordered and Lucy reached over to put some of the disgusting looking mess onto her plate to consume. It was leftovers of leftovers from around three days' ago's leftovers.

And by now it was thoroughly disgusting.

Almost inedible.

They'd have never eaten anything like this back in the vault, but then again she wasn't in the vault anymore.

Dogmeat came over then, sniffing her breakfast and Lucy happily gave her a scrap, grateful for the help in eating it. The dog beamed at her, obviously thrilled for the charity.

At least, Dogmeat was usually personable.

Dogmeat.

She hated the name, but it had stuck.

Possibly because she hated it, Lucy mused, forcing food into her mouth and reluctantly chewing.

Why was it that the things you didn't want in there always wound up cemented inside of your head? She was having trouble remembering some of the funny stories Norm had told her about his time as a janitor but she couldn't stop thinking of the first miracle dog she'd been blessed to know as "Dogmeat".

Maybe it was because the poor sweet dog didn't mind the name at all, due to the overwhelming fact she was desperately in love with the Ghoul.

Honestly, Dogmeat was suffering from a bad case of puppy love, proven even now by the fact that she was taking over half the food Lucy had given her to offer it to the Ghoul.

And, as if not to hurt the dog's feelings, the Ghoul was actually accepting it!

It was honestly very touching and Lucy had to fight a wave of jealousy.

She also had to keep reminding herself that the ghoulified cowboy was the same being whom had once stabbed poor Dogmeat back in Filly.

She thought of Monty then.

She could never have shown that amount of loyalty to her dead ex-husband, Lucy thought.

Not after he had tried to murder her on their wedding night, anyway.

That would be impossible.

Although, here she was traveling across the wastelands with a man whom had cut off her finger.

Yeah, but I bit his off first, she reminded herself, staring at her hand with the darker than the rest of them digit.

When did things get so complicated, she fretted with another sigh.

At least things hadn't ever been all that great between the Ghoul and herself, as opposed to Monty, whom she had once harboured fleeting thoughts of forever with and given herself enthusiastically to.

Lucy had started to wonder what the Ghoul would think if she offered herself to him in a similar way. Would he like her better then? She kept thinking about giving him the same proposition she'd made to Maximus, just to see if it made him like her a little more.

They were already sleeping together afterall.

Every night, after it had gotten dark, the Ghoul suggested they sleep next to one another, sometimes, on the rare occasion, with Lucy lying on top of him. He had told her that the desert could get cold and that she might prefer it if they shared warmth.

Actually, what he'd said was more along the lines of, "A Vaultie, won't last long out here in the cold. If'n you don't wanna end up chilled to yer bones, better sleep next to me. You might slow me down too much if you up and get hypothermia."

At the time, however, she'd taken it as a good sign that he was finally warming to her.

Only later did she suspect it was quite literal and that he was the one actually trying to use her body warmth.

But it was okay.

Still, some nights, when he had seemed somewhat repulsed by her and while she had been noticing how comforting it was to have him so close, she had wanted to ask if he'd wanted to take things even further.

She'd never found the courage to actually ask though.

Lucy looked up to find the Ghoul staring at her, like really staring, his eyes burrowing into hers and she blushed, worried he'd read her mind and would eventually say "Sorry, darlin', but that'd really slow me down too much"

Trying to save face again, she lied about what had been on her mind. "It's good," she said, holding up her plate and chewing in over-exaggeration.

He laughed, but not the pleasant type of laugh. It was more like a corrosive on the skin kind of laugh. "No, it ain't," he grumbled. "That's just more of your fuckin' Vault taught politeness over bubblin' to the surface."

The grimace came to her face fast and freely, some confused emotion of being apologetic while still wanting to slap his leather like face.

This was the Ghoul's other favorite pastime, when he wasn't trying to ignore her existence altogether: insult the life she had had back in Vault 33.

Calm down, she chided herself. You can deal with this.

Funny thing was, they used to have a man just like him in 33: Mr. Hudsucker. She always hated going by him in the hallways, or to sit with him during a meal. She did anyway, until her dad had a little talk with her and opened up her mind to make his presence tolerable.

"Now Lucy, there is probably a perfectly logical reason that Mr. Hudsucker is so disagreeable," her dad had said. "Have you ever thought about that?"

"I don't see what that reason can be," she had pouted, remembering how, just a few minutes ago, the old fart had scowled at her just for wishing him a good morning.

"Well," Hank gave it some thought, grasping his knees as he sat beside her on the family couch. "Maybe his shoes are too tight? Remember how when you were out growing your own, you didn't say anything at first, not until Norm found you crying in with the pipes? Remember how, when he told me and I went and got you, you fell into my arms and started to cry because you loved your old pair of shoes and didn't want to give them up but they were hurting your feet so badly?"

She'd nodded then remembering the day. "Then you kept my old shoes and put them away in a special box," Lucy remembered smiling. "And you said you'd find some way to make them fit, but I had to wear these new ones instead, in the meantime..."

"And in a few days," Hank finished, "You were feeling so much better, you'd forgotten about that old pair and just enjoyed the new."

Tears came to Lucy's eyes as she remembered the rest of the conversation. "What did you do with the old pair?" she'd asked her father.

"I still have them, right in the box where I said they'd be waiting for you," her dad had answered and then hugged her lovingly.

Why did everything have to be so painful, she thought, putting the plate down on her knees.

She pushed her father away, thinking only of Mr. Hudsucker and the Ghoul and the similarities between them both.

Maybe the Ghoul's cowboy boots were just on too tight, she reasoned.

They had done an awful lot of walking.

Thinking it was as good a place to start working towards a decent conversation as any, Lucy decided to gradually work her way up to it.

"So..." she began. "How much farther do you think we'll need to walk before we get to Vegas?"

The Ghoul kept right on eating, and Lucy thought her conversation starter had failed miserably until the cowboy spoke, in between chews.

"Not long," the Ghoul mumbled. "Before the war, people used to drive to Vegas in about a day from the Observatory."

Wow.

Lucy couldn't believe it.

Not so much the fact that people could get so easily to a place that now seemed to be as far away as the moon, but that the Ghoul had finally divulged a little piece of personal information.

She recklessly seized upon the tidbit, more hungry for it then the breakfast he had regurgitated from mornings past.

"Really?" she asked, bright eyed and curious. "Were you from there or did you used to visit often?"

The Ghoul kept right on eating, as if talking so much had suddenly made him deaf.

"I mean...I don't mean to pry but..."

He was intentionally scraping his spoon against the plate now, preferring to create a truly irritating noise then actually talk to her.

Lucy put her own plate down and Dogmeat rushed over to lick it clean.

"Look, am I annoying you?" she finally outright asked, causing the Ghoul to stop his racket and look her in the eyes. "Because, if I am, I don't see why you can't just point me in the right direction and let me get to New Vegas and my dad on my own."

Lucy blinked a few times, worthless defense against the Ghoul's cold, hard stare. "You Vaulties sure do wanna jabber a lot," he finally said, throwing his plate to the ground. "I ain't exactly in the mood to get all touchy feely."

"Well, it's just my father...he'd always make sure we'd tell him just how we were feeling each night, right before bed. If something was bothering us, we were supposed to let him know, then we could all work it out together, " Lucy MacLean explained, leaving out the part that, while she eagerly participated, her brother, Norm, remained tight lipped on most nights.

The Ghoul's glare became even more frozen, just when Lucy thought it wasn't possible. If anything was likely to give her hypothermia, it was him.

"And when your daddy was encouraging these little talks, did he ever mention what he did to Shady Sands and your mama?" he asked, his voice an odd mixture of smoothness and cruelty.

Lucy's heart stopped and she swallowed harshly.

On second thought, maybe she preferred it when the Ghoul had nothing to say.

"No...he didn't," Lucy replied, blinking back a few tears.

She looked away before the Ghoul could see them.

She loathed being weak in front of him, especially when she'd spent all of her time trying to convince him that she wasn't the frightened, silly, fragile deer he saw her as.

From out of the corner of one drowning eye, she watched as the Ghoul shifted.

Was he tense and feeling bad?

Should she even care if he was?

She turned her head a little more, but her eyes went in the opposite direction, lingering on the cowboy.

Eventually, the Ghoul rose.

He was walking towards her, and Lucy harboured a little hope that he might be coming to comfort her when instead all he did was pick up her plate and interrupt Dogmeat from cleaning it.

However, just when she was cursing him inwardly, the man looked down in her direction - if not exactly at her - and spoke, his voice a little more gentler than she had ever heard it.

"Save those tears...Water ain't worth wasting out here."

Lucy felt her heart start to beat again, and this time it felt warmer than it had before.

Responding to what she perceived as his kindness, Lucy raised her face and smiled into his. "I'm sorry," she apologized, even though it probably should have been the other way around. "You know how they used to say 'raised in a barn'? Now I guess they would say 'you must have been raised in a vault'."

"You've heard that expression, 'ave you?" he asked and almost seemed to chuckle.

"I think I heard it in a Cooper Howard film...Oh, wait! It was 'A Man and His Dog,'! He asked the dog it."

The Ghoul just stood there staring down at her.

"You know 'bout Cooper Howard?" he finally asked.

"Yeah. My dad and I used to watch his movies together, all the time. Actually, he was my first crush. I used to tell dad I'd marry Cooper Howard someday, before...well, before I knew that would be technically impossible."

With the sun at the Ghoul's back, Lucy couldn't clearly see his expression, but she registered that something had changed, some tensioning of features betrayed by how his shoulders seemed to tighten too.

"Did you know him?" she asked, not able to help herself and suddenly curious about the Ghoul's real age.

"Maybe once. A long time ago. But that's a whole lotta water under the bridge now," he said, his voice containing something new to it...

Lucy suddenly placed it as nostalgia.

Abruptly, and enough to startle her, the Ghoul threw her plate into the dying fire, where it cracked and broke. "Do what you need to, then get moving," he instructed. "I want to see if I can't reach Vegas by sundown and I don't need your Vaultie ass slowin' me down."

He walked away from her then, his spurs jangling musically, and Lucy stared at his back, feeling like for every step forward she made with the Ghoul she needed to take several back as well. He was cruel, cold, distant, brutal and exceedingly rude.

Lucy once again patted Dogmeat's head and then stood, brushing the neverending dirt of the desert off of her.

The Ghoul was several feet away now, waiting for her to clean things up and gather their supplies, all while he did nothing.

No matter how complicated things were outside of the vault, at least, there was still one thing she knew for certain, Lucy tried to comfort herself:

They might both have been cowboys, but the Ghoul was no Cooper Howard.

Chapter Text

Cooper Howard stood with his back to the campfire, intentionally avoiding looking back at his companion, while she did as he had said and prepared for their moving on.

He could still hear her though.

Every single movement she made.

Each of them could be easily traced, until it wasn't even necessary that his back was turned, he could see her all too perfectly, from the expression on her young, sweet face to the creases in her clothing.

Now she was picking up his abandoned plate and wiping off what Dogmeat hadn't already licked clean.

Now the girl was placing it carefully in with their limited supplies.

Now the Vaultie was putting out the fire, all as their four-legged friend sat watching her.

Now Lucy was staring down at the broken pieces of her own plate, trying to figure out what she should do with them.

And eventually deciding, since it was broken, there was nothing left to do but leave it behind.

Howard frowned, wiping away the chem he'd just taken from the bottom half of his face, as much like leather as hers must surely be like silk.

"Actually, he was my first crush. I used to tell dad I'd marry Cooper Howard someday..."

Why hadn't he left her behind too, he wondered, for about the hundredth time?

He should have just let her go back to her vault, where she might be naive enough to fall back into ignorance, but where she sure as hell would have been a whole lot more comfortable than traveling all the way to Vegas with a ghoul like him.

Unless'n of course it was one of the bad vaults...

She'd have had better conversationalists to deal with then, at least, that much was a given.

Giving his lips a lick, tasting the hint of the substance keeping him from going feral, Cooper realized it was about as bitter as the truth.

It had been too late for any sort of return for Lucy, he'd reasoned, probably for the thousandth time, as well.

She'd been forced fed a piece of the proverbial apple and now all Lucy MacLean had left was to march forward and meet her makers, the false gods of her equally deceptive Eden.

No.

That wasn't entirely true, he chastised himself.

Curiosity had spurred her on just as much as any fall from grace. She wanted to learn and to see, to gather up knowledge and let it give her strength, to find out first hand all the lies her daddy had taught her.

All while keeping that innocence and basic goodness which seemed innate to her nature, like God had ingrained it inside Lucy MacLean to her very core.

And nobody could take it away.

Not even a damned fool like the Ghoul.

Not that he hadn't tried, of course.

"Damnit," Cooper swore at himself, reproaching both what he'd already put her through by asking her to come with him and what he'd done to himself besides.

It had been a mistake asking her to tag along, as much for him as for her. He'd just been so filled with gratitude to the girl, and unexpected sympathy, he'd let his common sense sit at the rear of the saddle.

Guilt had played a role too.

Humility, although he'd thought he'd left that far behind him.

So many past emotions that no longer did him any good.

But he was the snake whom had helped the girl lose a piece of her innocence, and out of spite, and her abundance of grace, she'd let him take a bite right back, giving him a taste of the man he used to be:

An idiot whom had also once believed in doing unto others what he'd of had them do unto him.

He owed her for that.

Though, when he'd first seen her in that awful blue and yellow suit, staring at him like some kind of an accusation, she'd filled him with repulsion over what a naive fool he had been to believe in Vault-Tec (let alone mankind), she'd also reminded him that it wasn't all bad.

That long gone ideal wasn't just somethin' to hate.

He didn't hate her anymore, Cooper Howard knew, though he was trying his best to keep her right on hating him.

What did he feel for her?

The question made him uncomfortable.

Wishing he had nothing more than a Vault of his own to go running back to.

Lucy MacLean was the type of girl that he used to stay away from while being the hottest cowboy in Hollywood.

The type of girl that he'd promised a woman he'd loved a mighty long time ago he'd stay the hell away from if she ever crossed his path.

The Ghoul lifted his eyes, looking off in the direction of Vegas while a memory flooded over him, wondering if the man they were going to inevitably meet there, besides old Hank MacLean, would remember it too.

He'd understand just what he was talkin' about, the Ghoul knew.

'Course, Robert House never did have a problem with keeping his heart in check and his feelings under control.

It was easy, afterall, when you had neither.

* * *

When Barb had excused herself from the table, Cooper Howard had found himself needing to keep the smile plastered on his face for a little while longer. He'd only put it there in the first place in order to reassure her that he'd be okay. He hated to be left alone with Robert Edwin House, but with Vault-Tec and House's own company, RobCo, so connected at the hip these days, and this dinner initiated to help keep it that way, he had very few options.

Most of the other stiff shirts had left by now, Barb, House and himself being the only three left in the upscale, swanky restaurant in the Hills, and it was only them three because Barb had been discussing Vault-Tec's plans for incorporating one of House's new knick knacks into the vaults and things had turned a little complicated, what with House's endless questions and ego.

The conversation had lasted longer than Barb's bladder had, and she'd finally excused herself, throwing an apologetic glance her husband's way before heading off to the washroom.

That had left only House and him at the table and the uncomfortable silence between them.

What made it even worse, Cooper inwardly cringed, was that the man had somehow gotten the impression that they were, at least, on good terms, friends almost, after rumouredly having secretly financed a few of his pictures.

As if he could ever be friends with a man whom had put so many hard-working Americans out of their jobs, Howard thought angrily, taking a rather large swig of his drink.

House was blatantly staring at him with a smirk not at all concealed by his famous moustache.

"So...Coop," the man finally spoke, the cigarette he'd lighted before Barb had left shifting casually in his fingers. "I heard you declined working on 'Vainly Shot the Texan'. Care to tell me why?"

Cooper hoped that the fake smile would work in his favor and save him a little by already being in place. He shrugged in good nature and replied, "The script just wasn't what I was expecting, that's all."

House looked amused, the glints in his dark eyes practically glowing, like they were reflecting the sun which had set ages ago. "Really? Talk was you really wanted the role; that was after you'd read the script."

Hating how his face was starting to burn, and how the smile had abandoned him completely now, just like Barb, Howard moved in his chair. Damn the man for taking such an interest in his work, Cooper thought. He'd wished he'd go and play fan to some other big screen hero like Keith McKinney, whom reportedly had a small crush on House. "They did rewrites," he tried to explain, even though it was a lie.

"Again...not what I heard."

Cooper Howard took a deep breath, his eyes focusing on his plate, by this time littered with crumbs but otherwise empty before him.

"Come on, Howard," House coaxed, dropping the accumulating ash from his cigarette into the tray before him. "We're both men. We can be honest with one another."

Now, at least, Cooper felt as if he could look the other man in the eyes, having some sort of shield to use. "From what I've heard, you're 'bout more machine than man, House."

Robert House continued to wield his self satisfied grin, apparently not insulted by the remark.

Howard sat back in his seat, studying the man and now both curious and concerned over what the man knew. "What'd you hear anyway?"

House sat forward, looking to the table in consideration before renewing their stare: Information would always be a valuable commodity to the self made businessman. "That you liked the ingénue they hired to star opposite you a little too much," he answered at last.

Feeling his mouth actually fall open in shock, Howard had to work on closing it just as quickly as he did in fighting the urge to punch House in his smug, smirking face.

It was all true, unfortunately.

All House had heard.

The producers had decided to hire some young actress called Betty Garland for the role of his love interest, and by the time they'd shared their second screen test, Howard had known it wasn't going to work. She was sweet, bright eyed, intelligent and lovely.

And he was as attracted to her as he'd been to anyone in a very long time, including Barbara.

He'd gotten to feeling guilty anytime he went to the studio, how excited he'd been to see the girl, how happy to head off to work each day just to tell her "Hello".

And that was when Cooper had known that he needed to back out of the movie or else risk the sanctity of his marriage, the heart of his wife and the welfare of his only child.

He'd backed out of it, although he'd never wanted a role more. Oh, he could have had the studio fire Betty instead, but that wasn't within his moral code either. She'd been so happy for what she'd seen as her big break. Best to let the girl have her shot at stardom with a decent role, there would be others for him, even if he didn't want them quite so badly.

Still, he'd never told anyone of his real motives from withdrawing from the picture. Not the studio and certainly not his wife, whom had remained blissfully unaware of why her husband went from whistling to work a few mornings to immediately auditioning for other projects instead.

Studying House, some rumor he'd heard once himself came pushing to the forefront of Cooper Howard's mind and he leaned forward then, just as boldly, to confront the tycoon.

"You see that when you were doing a scan of your latest starlet, now did you, Bob?" he countered, embarrassed that House had gleaned a little about him, even if it was just second hand information, but bristling just as much at the invasion of his privacy.

"As a matter of fact, yes, I did," Robert House admitted. "The woman, whom will remain nameless but wasn't yours, no need to worry, had seen your audition with Miss Garland. Everyone felt the chemistry. A chemistry I noticed was decidedly absent from the interaction with your wife tonight, even if you were more attentive than usual. What was that...guilt?"

Howard bristled, perfectly aware of how he'd been overcompensating to make up for his involuntary emotions.

House almost seemed to be fighting back a chuckle as he added more ash to the tray. "My girl was disappointed that you had left the project. She was certain, with a rapport like that, the film would have been a resounding success. You should have done it, Cooper."

"Is that all you care about, House? Money and success?" Cooper felt himself sneering, offended by the man's obvious lack of morals.

House studied him, still unmoved. "Yes," he replied. "What else is there?"

Cooper frowned, realizing he should have known better 'bout the man, but disappointed all the same. House was the all around expert on detatchment. Other talk had him eagerly discarding any of the starlets he'd scanned the brains of. He hadn't even used them for any kind of intimacy rumor had it. It was presumably beneath him. Robert House cared more for robots and wires than human souls and human flesh.

If only he could have adopted more of that attitude of coldness, he might have been able to accept the role and not have worried about an affair, Howard thought.

If only he was made a little more of metal, he might be assured of his ablilty to survive anything Hollywood, or even life, would throw his way.

After coming back from fighting, and with the world in the state it was, that might have been useful.

Barb was coming back to the table now and not a moment too soon. House dropped the topic altogether in her presence and talk went back strictly to business, and then, only for so long until Barb said they had to get home because the babysitter had only been paid until one.

Thinking of Janey, Cooper felt the nausea in his stomach quickly dissolving. Conjuring up how he'd felt being around the other woman had made him momentarily question his relationship with Barb, and if he had made the right decision. Had turning down the role been as good an admittance of his eventual infidelity as an outright affair?

Remembering his daughter sleeping safely at home, undisturbed, made Cooper feel more assured he had done the right thing afterall.

Even if the passion had faded a little between Barb and himself, he couldn't risk his life with Janey, not on something like a frivolous attraction.

Feeling better as he was, Coop still didn't appreciate it when House, opening the door for both Barb and him, smiled and stated, "Once again, I'm sorry you didn't get that role in 'The Texan'. It would have been a blockbuster."

* * *

"Ummm...hey..."

...

"Ah...hello?"

Someone was speaking to him in the present, pulling him out of the past, and the Ghoul quickly turned his head to find Lucy standing beside him, looking up with her adorable doe eyes and obvious concern.

"I finished," she stated, clearing her throat once. Her eyes looked behind her, then down to her feet and then back into his own unblinking stare. "Hi...ummm...I know you think I'm too chatty already but...are you okay?"

He gazed at her, unwilling to speak.

All Cooper Howard could wonder was how he'd gone from turning down a role with some girl he barely knew, but was growing fond of, to standing here now beside a girl he was learning to know a little more about each day and falling hopelessly in love with along the way.

Cooper wanted to tell Lucy he was sorry then, to take her in his arms and apologize for the fact that one of the fingers on her hand would no longer ever be her own.

Instead, all the Ghoul could do was give her a look that would wither any soul less stronger than hers and then push himself forward, heading closer to Vegas and away from her compassionate eyes.

All these years later, he still couldn't forsake a future with his daughter on something as foolish as an ephemeral attraction.

Not even if it was turning into love.

Lucy wasn't following him.

Knowing her movements as well as he did, the Ghoul could tell that much.

"HURRY UP!" he shouted out in command, more irritated at himself than at her.

When she ran to catch up to him, Dogmeat close behind, the Ghoul fought the urge to look at her.

It would have been better if she'd gone runnin' the opposite way.

Yet he was still grateful she was there.

* * *

It had been a while since he'd been in New Vegas, buried underground and harvested for organs and body parts as he was, but the Ghoul could tell something was different.

Something was wrong.

Nearing Freeside, this wasn't how things were supposed to look.

Reading his tension, Lucy, whom had remained amazingly quiet for most of their journey, finally broke her silence in order to ask, "Something really is wrong now, isn't it?"

The Ghoul chose not to answer her, looking around instead for any other proof of what his instincts were telling him.

His eyes focusing on a glint under the desert sun, the Ghoul finally made out the steel that was reflecting it, a machine barreling towards them at a fast paced roll.

A securitron.

One of House's.

Nothing new there.

Only this one's screen was rolling in red.

And the face on the display was more than angry.

It was insane.

"Get back Vaultie," Cooper stated, his voice as steady as his heart was contradictorily racing.

"What?"

"GET BACK!" he screamed at her, as the securitron's missile went flying, heading right in their unfortunate direction.

Chapter Text

The next day, when Hank saw House, it hadn't been only a smile to cut through the grime on his face but an actual bar of soap, this one straight from the 38's lavish penthouse suite.

Although House had wanted him to spill his secrets the moment he'd dangled the proverbial carrot infront of him, MacLean had convinced him to hold off until the following day. He was filthy and wounded, he'd argued, hungry, dehydrated and severely weary after Moldaver had held him captive and abused in her new headquarters for the NCR. In truth, if his life depended on it, Henry would have told House everything he knew right there and then. Unfortunately, he was also aware that his well being greatly depended on not immediately revealing everything to House. He was in Vegas, afterall, where everything was relegated into a game and it was of the utmost importance to play one's cards exactly right.

And Robert House was still a variable which could not be counted on.

The man had betrayed Vault-Tec, afterall, by refusing to enter a Vault and instead play hero to Vegas, all that after playing super cozy with them, gaining information by attending meetings and also placing a spy in the organization, one Bud Askins had never been able to identify.

Betty hadn't been able to locate them either, even after months of snooping.

They'd even eluded his superior detection, Hank often bewailed.

But even despite that old one, there was a completely new major factor preventing him from trusting House:

The fact that he, Hank MacLean, had delivered a major blow to the New California Republic...

One of New Vegas' major source of revenue.

And a possible reason for House having decided to show mercy to Freeside, after a great time spent harbouring a certain prejudice towards them.

If there was one definite way of upsetting Robert House, it was to mess around with his precious economy. Ask anyone in pre and post war America and they would tell you that.

And so Hank had done his best to postpone their little meeting until the morning, claiming he was made partially delirious by Lee and her torture, not to mention the journey across the desert, and House could only trust what he'd tell him after a good night's sleep, one where he'd would be refreshed and feeling better.

And Hank MacLean was feeling much better.

After House had relented and acquiesced to his somewhat reasonable request, Hank had been shown to a room where he could shower, have a minor feast and then, finally sleep, even if it was more like passing out from sheer exhaustion than anything else.

It wasn't a vault, of course, but it would do.

Jane had proven to be pleasant company as well.

Apparently, House hadn't needed her company that night, so she had been sent to attend to their "special guest's" needs, whatever those might be.

Robots had never exactly been his sort of fetish, but Henry MacLean had enjoyed the massage he had received and the opportunity to find out from the seemingly lonely securitron a little bit more about the state of New Vegas and Robert Edwin House himself.

"It was horrible!" Jane had virtually squealed in remembrance. "When those Deathclaws attacked Vegas, you could hear the people screaming down there on the city streets! What an awful racket, that was. I thought up here the sound wouldn't of reached us, but guess, I was wrong."

"You heard it then?"

"Sugar, if you were ten miles away, you woulda heard it," she said, whacking his naked back with just the right amount of pressure. "I thought we'd be safe up here too, but then one of those things, well, they got in somehow, the boss never found out how."

"How did House react to that?" Hank asked with interest, the words coming out with mild difficulty, his cheek then currently pressed against a pillow.

"Calm, at foist, like always...it was only after that when the...well..."

"Well what?"

Her robotic hands immediately stopped working his knotted flesh.

"Sorry," she eventually apologized, tentatively resuming the massage. "Mr. House don't like us to talk about it."

Intrigued, Hank hadn't wanted to let it go.

"So you won't discuss it?"

There was silence before her next claim too, close to a plea to abandon the subject altogether. "It's not that we won't, it's just that we can't, sugar."

Hank had blinked, wondering with extreme curiosity what had happened to make the topic forbidden, so much so that even protocols had been placed within his securitrons to not allow them to even broach it. Had House's precious system been weakened, Hank pondered? Was it something he could exploit if given enough time? Only then, as they often did now, Hank's thoughts had wondered to Rose again, and how that had become its own forbidden subject within Vault 33 and his heart. The whole wound still festering, sore and recently reopened, thanks to Lee Moldaver, he had then decided it was best to head to bed and accept the momentary amnesia passing out would offer instead of devising ways to put his nose in House's business.

Waking up in the 38's penthouse, Hank MacLean felt far better equipped to conduct his own business with House, insuring his personal safety. To his shock, a brand new Vault jumpsuit had even been provided, laid out on his room's desk with a note reading "With compliments from the House."

Renewed, Hank had even been able to laugh over that one.

Fresh and dressed as he was accustomed to, he'd left his penthouse accomodations with his head held high.

His host had even noticed the change in his mood as he had entered his office.

"You're looking better," House had remarked, Jane busy at the screen attending to some matter her heavy metallic body was partially obscuring.

"Thank you, I'm feeling it too," Hank grinned widely, running his hands over his chest.

Closer now, he could see what the securitron was busily doing for her master: Jane appeared to be wiping House's screen clean.

"You look like you're getting cleaned up too," Hank tried to joke jovially, secretly thinking how, despite all the decades that had passed, House was still obviously the egocentric bastard everyone unfortunate to be aquainted with him knew him to be: First thing in the morning and there he was making sure there wasn't a spot on him.

The genius didn't seem to take to the joke however. He flickered a few times and Jane backed away, almost scared, the cloth in her grasp appearing to almost tremble.

"Let me put a few things right on the table, MacLean," House stated rather testily. "You did yourself no favors by decimating Shady Sands. Our relations were always somewhat strained, but it and Vegas held no true animosity towards one another at the time you destroyed it. Infact, things were running more smoothly than they ever had before."

Another flicker as House momentarily turned a shade of blue instead of green, the brief alteration literally going over Hank's head which was lowered in shame.

"Still, I doubt you'd have the power to wipe out a whole city just due to your trivial little marital spat. Nor would Bud Askins ever be so rash as to help you solve a silly little custody battle by such an extreme measure. Someone else wanted Shady Sands destoyed."

Hank finally raised his head to offer a more confident nod, "Yes."

"And seeing New Vegas as a threat, they somehow motivated the Deathclaws to attack us, as well?"

"That's right."

House flickered almost uncontrollably, then managed to steady his image.

"Who are they, MacLean? I want names and locations. "

Hank took a step forward. "If I tell you, I'm signing my death warrant. I need reassurance that you will protect me from anything after me. That's the deal."

House was silent and Hank understood he was weighing things out. He likely knew there was a risk he wasn't being told everything, and yet he still wanted the information of who was behind the attack badly enough to risk it.

It looked like the pre-war billionaire was close to conceding until Victor rolled in destroying everything.

"Mr. House, I just picked up an emergency message...another securitron's up and gone rogue on us. It's targeted a coupla outsiders approaching the city."

"The people after you?" House instantly addressed Henry MacLean.

"Most likely," MacLean replied and tried to keep the fear from his voice.

"Excuse me," House stated, and though his face was still staring back unblinking, as if ready to continue negotiations, Hank knew that his attention was elsewhere, probably running systematics and scans of all the available information.

That included any available cameras and recordings.

Hank took a step back, fearing what was to come.

And, though, the former Vault 33 leader was never any good at betting, it seemed he was right on the money this time.

"You didn't tell me it was Cooper Howard following you," House stated, his voice now as intimidating as it had previously been merely professional.

Hank swallowed.

Just as he had feared, the Ghoul was set to become a spurr in his tailend.

All because of the dratted "Cooper Howard" connection.

Telling from House's present tone, MacLean knew he'd been wise to leave that piece of information out on purpose, having heard the tales countless of times from Barb that Robert House was fond of Howard. Why not, Hank thought ruefully. Once upon a time, everyone had loved dear old All-American Coop. He had even been a part of the Cooper Howard fanclub, himself, a fact which had only just recently warranted the object of his admiration mocking him right infront of his very own daughter.

As if Howard was one to judge him, MacLean mused bitterly. Talk had reached even the vaults about the multitude of sins the Ghoul had committed all in the name of locating his family.

Anticipating the need to defend himself to House, Hank was prepared to explain things from his perspective when he was interrupted harshly by the ruler of New Vegas.

"It appears he has brought a companion with him...a young female, twenties, dark hair, blue eyes, remnants of standard Vault wear..."

"Lucy," Hank whispered, stepping forward again, instinctively, as the truth dawned on him.

House did not reply.

"My Lucy?" Henry MacLean asked

"If I needed to wager...yes."

Close to regurgitating his grand breakfast, Hank found himself reeling. He'd known that he'd left Lucy behind with Cooper Howard, but he had never thought he'd left her behind with Cooper Howard. The Ghoul was a lone wolf, abhoring company. It had never occurred to him that the creature would abduct Lucy and convince her to go along with him for some sort of revenge journey, whether willingly or by force. The idea was simply repellent. The thought that the Ghoul would choose his sweet, innocent, angel of a little girl, made Hank MacLean feel as close to going out of his mind as the rampaging securitron had.

Analyzing his guest's reaction as he had always done when it came to people he viewed mostly as pawns, House now successfully read his mind and tried to calm him down. "Be grateful she's with Howard, MacLean. She, at least, has a fighting chance now."

It may have been true, but was still not nearly enough reassurance for the frantic father.

"But if you can see them, why can't you stop them?" Hank demanded in desperation, thinking of his daughter out in the middle of the desert with only a 200+ year old ghoul, always on the verge of turning feral, to help her against a securitron now about ready to blow her fragile little body to pieces. "You control the securitrons..."

Hank saw the screen flicker once more this time and roll twice. His eyes then darted to Jane and Victor whom were looking to their master almost in outright concern.

Fear seized Henry MacLean's heart.

"Don't you?" MacLean finished, the question now a whisper.

House's image only answered by flashing, alarmingly akin to an emergency siren, until it rolled in a neverending sequence, all as the autocrat tried to miserably correct it.

"ARE YOU IN CONTROL OR AREN'T YOU?" Hank shouted in pure hopelessness, not thinking about the Ghoul after his blood then but the securitron after his daughter's life.

"Lucy," he whispered when no answer came other than silence.

A tear accompanied the name, falling down the father's cheek: a far purer way of wiping the grime off from him than either a smile or a stupid bar of soap.

Chapter Text

An actual securitron.

A real, in the flesh (or in this case titanium alloy), RobCo manufactured securitron.

Lucy had been just realizing this with the same type of awe she'd experienced when she'd first seen Maximus in his T-60, that her momentary concern over the Ghoul's worsening mood had been momentarily forgotten.

She'd even only just barely registered his having said two words to her to bother asking a distracted, "What?"

Now she heard those words loud and clear, however. Hammered home particularly by the fact that she could plainly see the securitron preparing to fire at them one of its lethal missiles.

"GET BACK!" the Ghoul was shouting as she realized what was happening and her traveling companion's ultimate mistake.

"No, GET DOWN!" Lucy corrected, the missile heading towards them like Chet used to rush in her direction every single time Vault 33 held a dance.

While she certainly was nowhere near equaling the Ghoul's size, the muscle of his body (radiated as it was) feeling like brick as she collided against him, Lucy had the benefit of surprise on her side, plus the sheer intent of her momentum. They went falling to the desert floor as the missile went speeding over their now horizontal bodies. Lucy had enough time to register that it's speed and projection seemed a tiny bit off from what she'd read about them, before she heard it hitting the Vegas landscape in the distance behind them.

Pieces of debris went flying then instantly falling, reaching them even and raining down like snow made of dirt. Instinctively, she shielded the Ghoul beneath her, taking most of the sand and dirt in her hair and body. Some painfully large pieces struck her shoulders, but Lucy hardly felt them in her elation.

Raising her head and propping herself up on her palms, Lucy MacLean beamed down at the confused ghoul beneath her, a smile of happiness on her face because she had finally done something right.

She had finally saved both of their lives.

"There's no need to thank me," she was starting to say, misunderstanding the odd look on the Ghoul's face to mean he was bewildered by her sudden cunning and quick thinking. "I was just..."

"Get off a me," the Ghoul was suddenly shouting, throwing her off of him and to his side in an odd fury.

The wind was quickly knocked out of her, her moment of triumph thoroughly squashed, and Lucy was left reeling, thinking only about how rude the cowboy was after she'd darn well saved his life. Then she noticed how he seemed to be groaning after giving their current foe a fast and fresh appraisal.

Lucy was about to thrust her head back to check on the securitron too, when she was surprised to feel the Ghoul jumping right on top of her, an instant reversal of their previous position.

It was a shock to feel his body over hers, the difference in their height and weight, this position an entirely new one, since she had only ever slept with the cowboy the other way around. It was not an entirely unpleasant sensation, however, and she was swiftly processing how much she enjoyed the weight of his chest pressed against hers, and the feel of his lower half almost between her legs, when the Ghoul held her even tighter, their bodies moving together, but not in the way she had in mind.

Locked together in a tight embrace, they started to roll, the ground where they had just been shot up in smaller, fresh clouds of dirt in their wake, accompanied by a certain jarring sound as it immediately dawned on Lucy that the securitron had started firing at them.

Rat-a-tat-tat, the bullets hit the ground, and Lucy began to equally help the Ghoul with his tumble.

Rolling, rolling, rolling, both of them keeping the momentum going until the sound of the machine gun stopped, an audible sound ringing out through the desert like the securitron had either suddenly ran out of bullets or his gun had jammed.

It was just as well, Lucy mused as both the Ghoul and her rolled right into what felt definitely like a rock at that exact moment.

"Ouch!" she sounded, the air pushed out of her lungs as the Ghoul pressed into her on one side and a wall of rock did the same to the other.

The ghoul rolled backwards. He was on a knee within the fraction of a second, surveying the situation as years of wasteland experience had taught him to do. His face on alert, his hand on his hand cannon, he really was quite the sight to see, Lucy considered in pure appreciation, there being nothing like his untamed masculinity and power inside of the vault.

He even looked a little bit like Cooper Howard, positioned like that.

Lucy felt her breath being taken away by more than just their impromptu roll through the desert.

She was also quite proud over the fact that - maybe for the first time - they were actually working together to survive as a unit.

"We're a pretty good team, huh?" Lucy stated, feeling almost giddy and a little bit awestruck by her partner.

The Ghoul merely turned to her and gave a look that professed otherwise.

Then he made a noise.

An almost feral noise.

Had he actually growled at her, Lucy thought, her smile faltering?

"I thought we did," she stated almost apologetically.

He didn't have enough time to argue, both of their heads virtually snapping as they turned, hearing a noise abruptly emanating from the securitron.

Something high pitched as if it was warming up.

"For shit's sake," the Ghoul practically moaned as he grabbed hold of Lucy, both dragging and pushing her body behind what appeared to be a wall of bedrock.

Dogmeat was soon joining them, having previously escaped the securitron's notice, and now wishing not to be left behind.

Not long after becoming a trio once more, they heard the sound of a laser hitting the rock they were trying to use as a shield.

"It must have run out of ammunition," the Ghoul stated, his back up against the rock. "God knows how long its been attackin' any soul stupid 'nough to get in its way."

"Oh, those poor people," Lucy placed a hand over her heart in sincere sympathy for the stupid souls.

The Ghoul sneered. "Better them than us, sweetheart. Right now, I'd go for a few more comin' our way to serve as decoys."

"Well, that's not very nice," Lucy chastised, until she heard another blast hitting the rock on the other side of them and involuntarily wished the same.

"I need to try to hit it," her companion stated, checking his weapon.

"Without getting your head cut off?"

"That's the right idea."

Worried suddenly that something would happen to him, leaving her alone, Lucy grabbed the Ghoul's shoulder before he could peek around the rock. "Wait! I don't want you to go!"

He stared at her, as she fumbled for something to add, suffering sudden embarrassment.

"If you have a better idea, I'd gladly listen, Vaultie...Better make it fast though, because with the way that thing's aiming to turn both this rock and us into rubble, you're gonna be meeting your daddy in the next sandstorm that makes it to Vegas."

Lucy stared back at him, unsure of what to say. He was right, of course. The rock was actually giving off heat now. If only she could think of a tactic, actually put to use something she'd learned in practice back inside the Vault or even some scheme from a movie she'd seen...

What would Cooper Howard do if he were here, she wondered helplessly?

"There's an old Mexican eulogy, "Feo, fuerte y formal..."

Why, it was like she was almost hearing him now, even if what he had to say had absolutely no bearing whatsoever on their current situation...

"Means he was ugly, strong, and had dignity..."

From the look on the Ghoul's face, it looked like he was hearing him too.

"Well, Joey...I'll give you two out of three on that front."

Lucy MacLean and the Ghoul both blinked.

"I hope you like the taste of lead, you commie son of a bitch."

Wait...was it really...?

"Do you hear that?" Lucy asked, as the laser sound finally ended, exchanged for the voice of a prewar movie star now gloriously filling the desert.

The Ghoul looked like he recognized it too.

However, while it was rapidly filling her with a sense of hope, the Ghoul looked like he wanted to suddenly claw his face off. Scrambling on her hands and knees, Lucy crawled towards the edge of the rock, the Ghoul trying to pull her back, and getting a pretty good grab at her ass, before she enthusiastically bolted forward and he gave up to just join her. Lucy could feel him leaning over her body, on guard as they looked around their only defense towards the securitron.

It was standing a few feet away from them, aimed with direct precision in their direction, its laser still prepared to send them to the assuredly sweeter-than-here-hereafter, but now, at its core, no longer was their a flashing angry face. No, now the robot appeared to be playing an old movie, one starring her very own childhood  hero. Lucy MacLean recognized him instantly and sighed in nostalgic bliss.

She smiled. After discussing him only that morning, what were the chances?

Suddenly the screen went to something different...there was an unfamiliar jingle and a slogan she had never heard...

"Everything for everyone anytime...Get more done then have more fun..."

Images popped up of roulette wheels and playing cards, a large tower with what looked like another roulette wheel, it displaying the name "Lucky 38"...

"All-season convention-vacation location..."

An old vacation ad for Vegas.

As suddenly as it had started, about thirty seconds worth of trying to sell the city to tourists, the screen returned to the comforting face of Cooper Howard, this time a close up of him staying focused until the angle changed and it showed him riding the back of a horribly bucking horse, all for real, no trick photography.

"Yeehaw!" he cried out in sheer joy.

"Ride the Wild Sunset," Lucy said with the fondest of recognition.

Suddenly her own current cowboy was pulling her back, all while the securitron stayed frozen, some new commercial for Vegas striking up, complete with sing along lyrics and a bouncing pair of dice.

"Wonder where to wander? Wander there to wonderland...wander then to Vegas..."

They fell back in behind the bedrock, the Ghoul once more with his back up against it, looking rather upset.

"Fuck it, not today," the Ghoul mumbled, hitting his head against the now cooling rock and causing his hat to fall lower across his eyes, all as Cooper Howard's voice returned telling off some guy in a black hat.

Funny, Lucy thought to herself...she'd never really noticed how much the Ghoul actually sounded like Howard.

"Is it safe to go out now?" she asked, hoping, in its malfunction, that maybe it had switched to some entertainment mode instead of the kill-everything model.

"No," the Ghoul virtually hissed. "It's still rogue...Neither of us can be sure."

His eyes drifted to Dogmeat and she knew what he was thinking.

"We are not sending her out to test it," she balked.

"Never said that we would, Vaultie," he snapped, almost offended.

The securitron was still flipping back and forth between the vintage tourist ads for Vegas and the old Cooper Howard film trailers. At one point, a dog barked and Dogmeat looked momentarily interested, while the Ghoul seemed almost guilty.

Seconds passed of silence, then it was playing one of Howard's old advertisements for Vault-Tec of all things.

"Oh. Hello there. Yep, it’s me, Cooper Howard, star of stage and screen. But I’m not here today to talk to you about my latest picture. No, today I’m here to show you a vast and wonderful place, not made by God Almighty but the working man. A veritable Camelot of the nuclear age..."

The Ghoul stood now, looking almost angrier than she had ever seen him, and Lucy, staying crouched on the desert floor, was more terrified of him than of the renegade securitron.

"I'm going to shut that thing up," the Ghoul suddenly announced, preparing his hand cannon with glee.

"Sure it will work?" Lucy asked.

"Yes," the Ghoul answered confidently, while staring down at her past his modernized pistol. "I reckon it will since I'll have my gun pointed right up its asshole."

She would have pointed out it technically had no asshole, but Lucy decided with his gun pointed at her it wasn't a wise decision and he was just probably going for effect anyway. "But what if it turns again? I mean, I've seen what you can do, and it's mighty impressive and everything, but that thing is armed to the max."

"Well, I may play a hero in the movies, but you all are heroes in real life. And now you can be a hero, too. By purchasing a residence in a Vault-Tec vault today. Because if the worst should happen tomorrow, the world is gonna need Americans just like you to build a better day after."

Though he had stopped what he was doing and appeared to be listening, the Ghoul might as well have not heard a single word she had said: He'd been staring out at the wasteland, his eyes burning about as badly as the world had.

After Cooper Howard had given his own little pep talk, the Ghoul went striding boldly past her, walking around the corner to the rogue securitron with something akin to pure hatred as his most important motivator.

Finding her own courage when faced with his, Lucy rose to her feet, starting to walk towards the securitron, but stopped in her tracks as the Ghoul stopped to glare at her, ordering her silently to stay where she was.

Her heart pounding, she watched as the Ghoul waltzed up to what surely must have been one of RobCo's pride and joys, but now had become nothing more than a metal monster.

A Vegas ad was playing and the Ghoul seemed more calmer than he previously had.

Until Cooper Howard came on the screen again, in yet another Vault-Tec ad, this time adorned in one of the famous blue and yellow Vault-Tec jumpsuits.

Lucy felt her heart break a little, suddenly feeling like she was a long way from home, both in body and spirit.

With lightning speed, the Ghoul went to place his cannon at Howard's head, all while the movie star good-naturedly gave him the thumbs up gesture...

Unfortunately, at that exact moment, the sleeping securitron awakened.

It's hand grabbed the gun, aiming it up and away, so the blast would hit the clouds before it ever reached the intended image of Cooper Howard. Lucy squealed in horror as the securitron used it's other hand then to grab her companion by the throat. The robot spun around, dragging the ghoul in repeated circles in the ground, and at such a speed, his boots seemingly dug a ditch in the sand. The robot stopped with its back towards Lucy, unknowingly offering the girl a perfect view of the Ghoul's face, his eyes bulging out of his increasingly red face, his tongue hanging out of his opened mouth, as if he was already dead.

"No," Lucy whispered not knowing what to do as Dogmeat was growling and barking in agitation by her legs.

She hadn't a clue how to help the cowboy.

Then it occurred to her:

She would do exactly what Cooper Howard would if he were here.

After taking the biggest breath she could manage, and filling her lungs with an ample supply of both radiation and dust, the last known female MacLean went running towards the Ghoul and the broken securitron,.

"Yeehaw!" Lucy screamed out in joy, her heart pounding, jumping on top of the securitron's back and riding it, just as she'd seen Cooper Howard doing with his own bucking bronco.

Chapter Text

Deep down, inside his weathered heart, the Ghoul knew he should have probably kept his cool. All the piece of nuts and bolts was doing, afterall, was firin' dead images at him, ramblin' old Vegas tourist crap and, in all odds, tryin' to relay some well intentioned but frustrating warning. It wasn't meant to be offensive, and if he could only stop and think things through, he might be able to turn it to their advantage, using what looked like an override to its system to vamoose it all the way to New Vegas before it got to seeing them as a threat again instead of some sort of captured audience.

Only problem was, when the securitron had gone from playing clips of his old films to those damn ads he'd done for Vault-Tec, the Ghoul had pretty well lost any semblance of detatchment he could even feign and found his temperature instead rising to about match that of the damn bot's laser.

It had not been his day, all things considerin'.

Straight from hurting Lucy's feelings at breakfast time by throwing the sins of her father right into that angelic face of hers, right to her confession that, a mighty long time ago, she'd had a crush on ole Cooper Howard himself, then this: some blasted malfunctionin' securitron rubbin' his face in past mistakes all underneath the unforgiving Nevadan desert sky.

Yeah, it had not been his day, alright.

And he was intent on payin' it all forward by making it not the securitron's day either.

Temper flaring, things had looked turnin' round in his favor too.

With one qualm as Lucy looked ready to join him, and he'd been forced to keep her where she was with a nasty look, he had made it safely to one of House's pride and joy all in one piece.

Standing 'bout a hair breadth away from it, the Ghoul had stared at the blasted thing's screen, seeing his old self givin' him that bright-eyed, optimistic thumbs up, which had haunted him for so many years now he might as well been trapped in some kind of hell with God replayin' his sins all the way to infinity.

Only this time, the Ghoul thought, it weren't God doin' it to him.

It was the man who thought he was God.

The not so Holy ghost man of Vegas.

Somebody was tryin' to relay a message to them, that much was clear, although it was likely flyin' right over Lucy's pretty lil head. That was the only thing the machine's rotation of seemingly unrelated video clips could mean. Unfortunately, or fortunately dependin' on how you looked at it, Lucy, with her lack of knowledge, had no way of tyin' her current travelling companion with her childhood crush. The Ghoul knew it though. Couldn't help but understand it. You had those old Howard films interminglin' with tourist ads for Vegas, then they all turned rather sour quickly, his bein' out of control on a horse called Sunset, followed up by the fucking Vault commercials.

Oh, yeah, the message was comin' in real loud and clear.

I know your heading to Vegas, Coop, but I'm a lil bit outta control at the moment. Best to be careful and postpone yer lil unexpected visit to some other time.

Only ever one guess whom it had come from.

His old "friend" and fan, himself: Robert Edwin House.

The self appointed god of New Vegas.

No big surprise there, nor the intimation that Hank MacLean had beat them both to Vegas in his fancy, pilfered T-60. The Ghoul wondered what House had thought of that, if MacLean made it through the Lucky 38's sliding doors decked out in the armour. He had made it through the front gates, that much was clear, though. Howard doubted that the Vault-Tec ads would have been poppin' up if it wasn't some sort of sign of that. House was tryin' his best to make his damn point: just like now, you didn't know what you were gettin' into then either, cowboy.

How mightily kind of him, Cooper Howard had thought with a sneer.

Right about more kinder if he could get his stupid, tin can wastebin of a guard out of commission and out of their fuckin' way, because if dear old "Bob" wanted him to hightail it and forego chasin' his stuck pig, House had gone and made another severe miscalculation to add to his other blunder.

This close to finally finding his family again, there was no way in hell that Cooper Howard wasn't makin' it to Vegas.

Even if that hell had been of his own making.

The Ghoul glared back at Cooper Howard and prepared to blow both his unghoulified self and the securitron into oblivion.

It was like coming face to face with some outdated model of yourself, one that no longer served a purpose and so was perfectly expendable.

One he gladly harboured the desire to retire.

His cannon was aimed at the screen, preparin' to do just that before God sent any more unnecessary reminders his way, and it felt better to Cooper Howard than any little vial of yellow had ever tasted.

He'd had no idea that the robot was going to return to its former inhospitable manner right at that inopportune second.

But upon reflection, considerin' the day he was having, Coop supposed he should have seen it comin'.

The claw was wrapped 'round his throat before he even knew what was happening, the sound of himself vainly gasping for air the first thing that alerted him to his change of fortune, seeing as though his neck had instantly gone numb from the pressure of the grip, added to his already ghoulified state.

It wasn't long before his boots were diggin' a ditch in the desert, the securitron takin' him for a literal spin, until the work apparently done, it stopped, intendin' to finish its collapse job on his airway.

It's gonna clear squeeze my head right off, Cooper Howard thought with the acceptence only one whom had delivered enough death to others could muster. When one dealt out mortality on a day to day basis, they always kind of figured this would be their fate sooner or later.

The Ghoul only regretted not seeing Janey, to tell her one last time how much he loved her.

Or Barb, to tell her what he really thought of her after all this time.

Or Lucy.

He regretted not telling the girl she'd been her hero's own hero for a brief moment in time too.

"YEEHAW!"

Hearing the oft associated cowboy cry, Cooper initially thought that the securitron had upped and repeated the scene from "Ride the Wild Sunset", but at a speed which went and made him sound like a woman, until his bulging eyes finally focused on the blur in blue and yellow jumpin' bravely on the back of the bot currently throttling him.

On top of the securitron, the Ghoul watched in horror as Lucy clung unto the mess of titanium alloy and started to mimic her first love by attempting to ride it like a horse.

"Get along little doggy!" she cried in a pretty obvious accent, all as Dogmeat thought she was talking about her and came runnin' to join the party.

Unsure of what was happening, the securitron released his initial target's throat, sending the Ghoul falling to the dusty ground where the dust, just having settled, was kicked up freshly around them.

Cooper Howard gasped for air, his hand to his throat. Meanwhile, the securitron was frantically moving about trying to get the girl off of its back, but unsure of how to exactly do it. In its moment of confusion, Dogmeat tried to take a bite from the robot's arm, the fact that it was made of titanium not deterring it at all.

"Yeehaw!" Lucy cried out again, and, God help her, Cooper actually thought it sounded like she was having fun up there.

Yet another danger of having been raised in a vault, he reckoned.

The robot was having less fun, however, having had just about enough of its enthusiastic Vaultie cowgirl. It's screen flipping back on to another antiquated Vegas ad, it reached its claw up and plucked the girl right off from it, lifting Lucy up like momma cats used to pick their kittens up by the scruff of their necks.

"Hey!" Lucy cried out in alarm, Dogmeat even backing away in concern over her friend.

"Viva Las Vegas....Viva Las Vegas!" the robot emmitted at full volume as the girl kicked her feet about wildly.

Cooper looked at Lucy in alarm, right about the time the securitron sent her flying through the air.

"Oh shit!" the ghoul mumbled, taking his own earlier advice to get back.

He was, thankfully, in time to catch the girl as she went flying in his direction, her limbs moving in such a way that she almost appeared to be swimming through the blue sky.

Skinny as she was, with the momentum from the force of the robot's throw, Lucy felt like a ton of proverbial bricks as she fell into his arms, and though the Ghoul had successfully caught her, both she and he fell to the ground in a neat heap: Lucy sitting on his lap, her arms wrapped around his still throbbing throat.

Dogmeat ran to their side, barking at the securitron behind it.

"I've just about had enough of that mechanical buzzard," the Ghoul muttered, not looking at Lucy and her sudden renewed closeness.

Pulling out his hand cannon, Coop let several rounds of ammo fly straight at the heart of the securitron, right where it counted. He was smiling smugly as it seemed to work too, the damage nicely received.

That was until the damn thing seemed to repair itself right infront of their eyes.

"What the hell..."

To Cooper Howard's experience, before they'd gone and buried him prematurely six feet under that was, the securitrons had never been able to perform such a feat. Robert House's plans had gone awry somewhere along the lines and his dream of a new and improved securitron had been thwarted.

That seemed to have changed however.

"It's coming back to life," Lucy moaned.

"Yeah and we're getting up," Cooper ordered, both of them scrambling to their feet, Dogmeat growling while the securitron completed its resurrection.

Maybe the worst part was that it had even managed to fix the screen at its core, the Ghoul lamented, and had even dug up yet one more old Cooper Howard oater to pour salt in his open wound.

To save himself, even just momentarily, the Ghoul was fresh about to shoot it again when he registered what film was playing and what scene House had chosen to show to him.

The Big Fight at the Little Canyon.

The Ghoul slowly smiled, a cowboy he once knew now offering a piece of well-timed advice.

"We get them wranglers at the impasse, then we drop the whole canyon right on their heads."

"How quick are you, Vaultie?" he spat, the securitron closing in on being back to fully fuctional.

"Unh...pretty fast."

"Good."

He looked down at Dogmeat, her intelligent eyes staring back at him with utmost loyalty. "You 'bout good at pushin' Dogmeat?"

"What are you..."

"That bit of bedrock look close to collapsing to you?

Lucy followed his nod and gaze all the way to the bedrock where they had been hiding. She hadn't realized how badly the securitron had managed to slice through it...

But now she was catching on.

"Right."

"I'll go behind the rock, you scramble past in front of it, then you..." he looked down to Dogmeat, "You give our friend a might warm backwards welcome, won't you, darlin'?"

Dogmeat barked in understanding.

Before Lucy MacLean could argue, the Ghoul was fleeing behind the shaky bit of bedrock, the last sounds of the securitron gettin' its clean bill of health behind him. "NOW RUN!" Cooper shouted, standing behind his shield of hard rock.

It was killin' him he couldn't see Lucy's actions on the other side, but if he didn't do this, it would likely wind up killin' them all.

Constant laser fire was coming from behind the bedrock, the Ghoul counting down.

"PUSH!" he heard Lucy screaming as he saw her running by the end of the rock.

Then going on simple blind faith that their canine companion had followed the command, sending the securitron wheeling forward, the Ghoul took aim at the weakest parts of the wall of old earth, sending it falling in the robot's direction.

The Ghoul smiled almost wistfully.

Most other actors, well, they wouldn't have known where to shoot, had held no real experience even when it came to the movie's they'd worked on special effects and pyrotechniques. They'd sometimes asked, with their eager lil minds, but held no specific knowledge about any of that stuff...guns and explosives includin'. Warfare. While they had been asking their questions, buggin' the crew with their innate human curiosity, he'd been clear 'cross the soundstage, tired of that sort of stuff after actually living through it. He never needed to ask, infact, he coulda taught everyone a thing or two himself.

During those times, he had wished he didn't know.

Now it was the only thing having kept him alive as rotten as he was gettin'.

The bedrock practically exploded at the base, the rest, falling forward and down on what he hoped was the malfuctioning robot.

The dust in the desert was practically blinding now, a giant mushroom of it heading upward, then comin' down. He had to wait several minutes before he could actually see anything infront of him, and yet, through the cloud, he felt a hand on his arm.

Lucy's face was the first thing he saw when the dust had settled. Once more, she reminded him of an Angel come to say hello, but he could barely look at her, not when he'd allowed himself to become the devil that he was.

"You okay?" she asked.

He didn't bother answering, but thought by moving forward, she could tell that he was well enough.

She'd probably just label it more of his ghoulish rudeness anyway.

To his relief, Dogmeat was investigating the rubble they had all helped create, the securitron presumably lying underneath it. The German Shepherd was climbing on top, digging in seeming dissatisfaction over something.

"Now don't go doin' that," he shouted at her, still afraid that the securitron would fix itself and start shooting itself out. He was still trying to figure that one out. Last the Ghoul had heard, House was still formulatin' his plan on getting what he needed to upgrade his crummy robots. When he'd asked for his help, being one of the few people House actually trusted, he'd disrespectfully declined, still on his hunt for Janey and Barb even then. That had been before he'd been put out to pasture in the stupid cemetery, of course.

Things changed and real fast out here.

Lucy had found that out for herself too.

Maybe with this fact in both of their minds, Lucy and the Ghoul went running up the rubble to stop Dogmeat from unburying the fallen securitron.

"C'mon Dogmeat," Lucy was saying, pulling the dog away from the spot she'd unfortunately helped clear and readjusting the pack she'd managed to reclaim.

It was the robot's screen which had interested the dog, Cooper Howard could plainly see, but fortunately it no longer held the image of his old self, nor the face of the crazed securitron. Now it was simply flashing a sequence of 2 words:

Malfunction

Corrected.

It looked like House had finally managed to rope his waward cattle into his control, all with the help of a physical crash.

Still, Howard didn't fancy sticking 'round to find out if the repair was permanent.

"Let's head out," he stated, heading back down to the smooth desert floor. "Don't want that thing waking up to kill us all."

A sound suddenly came from the rubble, something thankfully not weapon related but more than a little familiar from his time in Hollywood.

"Wait!" Lucy called, losing her footing on some debris, but quickly regaining her balance. The Ghoul watched her bending forward, grabbing something out of the rubble.

"Don't go touching anything!" he admonished.

"What's this?" Lucy asked, holding up a sheet of paper. "The robot shot it out...looks like it has a printer in its chassis or something.

Although it wasn't some sort of known weapon of mass destruction, Cooper Howard was possibly more scared of that single sheet of paper than anything else.

Frightened it would somehow reveal to her who he really was.

Or used to be anyway.

He was expertly traversing the rubble to snatch it out of her hand, the violence of which made her flinch but otherwise left her unfazed at this stage in their relationship. "I think it's an obituary for someone but...I...I don't know who..." she stated in disarming bewilderment.

The Ghoul laughed brittily. "You've been locked up in a vault your whole life, sunshine, ain't no big surprise there."

However, reading the name on the pamphlet, the Ghoul felt about as lost as she did. It wasn't outright familiar to him, and given the occupation of them, it seemed doubtful they'd made much of an impression on anyone when they'd upped and died a few years back. Yep. It wasn't even new news but rehashed stuff. He was interrupted from reading the rest of it, though, by a bout of the coughs coming on, not in any way brought on by the dust swirling all around them either.

The fight must have made him burn up his last dose of chems all the quicker, he realized. It had been bad 'nough worrying the securitron would hurry up feralization by cutting off his oxygen and thus damaging his brain, but now he needed to dip into his already dwindling supply too fast after the last dose. New Vegas better have a good stock of it, the Ghoul prayed, then cringed.

He hated that.

Detested being dependent on anything.

"Here, stick it in the pack," he instructed, coughing up what felt like his lungs as he shoved the paper at her and involuntarily hunching over. "Get me...get me a v-vial while you're in there."

Concern was written all over her face, empathy and sympathy entwined together so much so that all that mattered to the girl was obviously helping him.

Poor Lucy MacLean, the Ghoul mused. She was like Dogmeat in that respect: He could treat her like dirt and she'd still lick his hand.

The girl handed him the vial, which he downed in one gulp, and another when he demanded it. That last one he took a little too fast. He was outright hacking, afraid he'd lose any of the vial's contents and waste them on the cracked, ruined bedrock when Lucy went and did another thing to startle him, making him instantly rethink all the prejudices he'd formed about those whom lived underground, like cowards, and furthermore ponder how a man like Henry MacLean could have raised such a decent human being.

Her small, delicate hand quickly went to his mouth, covering it so as to prevent him from losing any more of the chemicals. The girl didn't seem to mind that his possibly radioactive spit was now coating the entirety of her palm or that the lips that had allowed pound after pound of human flesh to pass by them were now pressed against her skin.

"Keep it in," she soothed. "Yeah, that's it...good. You're doing great!"

Oh, shit, he felt like a little boy, being fed his medicine, but the feeling was also a good one. Probably, what his feral friend, Roger, must have felt like when he'd coaxed him into thinkin' of his mother before he'd gone and ended his suffering.

The chem was safely down, and yet he couldn't take his mouth away from Lucy, wanting to stay with his lips close to her forever. Only reluctantly did he back away a little, trying to fight the insistence of human needs he'd hoped had died long ago with his conscience.

Lucy's hand was wet, the mixture of saliva and chem glistening and creating a bridge of spit still tying him, in a way, to her hand.

"Lick it off," she gently instructed, with such a pleasant bedside manner she might as well have been suggesting they split an ice cream or something.

At a loss over what else to do when he wanted it so badly, Cooper Howard let his tongue touch her skin, rolling over it like it was infact ice cream.

He could taste her, really taste Lucy MacLean, even some of the sweetness he had come to associate with her, even if that was all inside of his sun fried head.

She was simply delicious, although she should have tasted bitter to him then.

There he was thinking she was the one licking his hand, only for life to want to hog tie him into a lesson on how it could so easily go the other way 'round.

Lesson learned, Howard thought, grudgingly, swallowing with the slightest of difficulty.

Although he'd never let her know it, he was grateful for her kindness, humbled by the gentleness and compassion she had freely given to him. He could have even mistook it for love if he believed himself worthy of that anymore.

He only wished he coulda had the nerve to kiss her palm in gratitude besides only licking it.

That would have shown her how he really felt.

Unfortunately, the ghoulified part of him was equally wanting to chomp down on the hand that had fed him, something that he had learned to deal with by keeping people at arm's length.

He eagerly fell back into that to help protect the both of them.

Ripping his head away, he stood up straight and wiped his mouth clean with the back of his hand. She didn't take his sudden revolt as an insult this time, either, but merely rubbed her hands together to try to help dry them off.

Oh, dear Lord, Cooper Howard thought with further mortification: he'd been licking the same hand where he'd made her lose a finger!

The woman was a saint.

Lucy didn't seem to care though. She beamed up at him, smiling and ready, it seemed, for their next big adventure.

"Okie Dokie," she announced cheerfully. "Onward to Vegas!"

She trekked down the hill where they were standing and looked back once.

"And for what it's worth, I still think we make a good team," she stated with a confident little nod.

Watching her make it the rest of the way down, the defeated securitron at his feet, the Ghoul was finding it difficult to disagree.

Chapter Text

Kneeling on the floor where he had doubled over in the severity of his nausea, Hank looked up at the looming, unchanging face of Robert House, trying the whole time to blink away the beads of sweat that had rolled down into his eyes whilst listening to the repeated updates concerning the securitron's fight with Lucy and the Ghoul.

Coming from House, though, the whole ordeal had sounded more like a prewar baseball game being relayed by a stock broker than the small battle it apparently was.

It hadn't made it any less harrowing for MacLean, whom had wound up where he was now, on his knees, as if in prayer, his hair hanging over his lowered head while he held himself, the breakfast he had gloated over having only minutes ago now threatening to come up.

All because his Lucy was in trouble.

His sweet, little, innocent baby girl.

Hank MacLean had always hated sports game before the bombs had fallen, not particularly enjoying spending about three hours of his life, sweating, cursing or cheering to see if his team won.

But having it be his own daughter's life on the line, was even worse.

Even though the duration of the battle couldn't have lasted more than thirty minutes (including all the commercials House had sent the participants' way as both a stalling and communicative device), it might as well felt like it was a hundred years in passing for the father.

He was a mess, one whom was nothing but nerves and sickness, beating heart and pouring pours.

"You can get back on your feet now, MacLean," he finally heard House announcing, and could also tell from the other man's voice that, though his daughter was no longer in danger from the robot, he could not claim the same from its maker.

"You managed to save her?" Hank asked, smiling inspite of himself and leaving the Ghoul completely out of it.

"They saved themselves, but I played a small role in it nonetheless," the screen informed, uncharacteristically modest for the self made man.

"Thank you," Hank mumbled, closing his eyes. "Oh, thank you."

"You deceived me, Hank MacLean," Robert House stated, sounding none too pleased with his formerly pampered guest.

"No, no I didn't," Hank answered, stumbling to his feet and holding out his hands in beseechment. "I just neglected to tell you, who was following me, that's all. I thought that was all such a very long time ago...water under the bridge...the world has changed so much...for all of us."

"I do not honor those whom withhold information from me," House countered, still in his previous mode of thought. "You should have known that, if nothing else."

"But I still have information you can use, information you want."

The screen flickered.

It was close to two minutes before the ruler of New Vegas spoke again but not to the former leader of Vault 33. "Victor," he ordered, addressing the securitron instead. "Keep Mr. MacLean detained here until his daughter and Mr. Howard reach the 38. Then show them inside. You can leave MacLean with me during that time."

"Sure thing boss."

"What are you going to do with me?" Henry MacLean inquired, his hands clutching each other in supplication or like they were already adorning a pair of handcuffs.

"You pose a particular problem to me, Mr. MacLean. I want the information you have and yet nothing would currently satisfy me more than having my securitron throw you off from this tower."

Hank blinked involuntarily in fear.

"Unfortunately, that is not how we run things in New Vegas."

"It isn't? I'm glad to hear that," Hank honestly replied, more sweat rolling off from his damp forehead. He wiped at both it and his hair, trying to push a lock of the latter behind his ear. "Do you mind my asking how you do run things in Vegas these days? I would be more than happy to abide by the rules."

House just glared in static silence.

"When Cooper gets here, we will discuss the matter more," House eventually stated. "Until then get out of my sight."

"We'd better go on over here, pardner," Victor stated, rolling over to take MacLean's arm and drag him over to a corner of the room. "You're a right bit lucky. I reckon that if'n this was before everything, Mr. House wouldn't 've given you a fightin' chance, but got what he wanted frum you and then keelhawed yer surrey ass off from the top of this casino."

"Before what?" MacLean asked almost desperately looking for any kind of leverage, but the securitron did not answer, choosing instead to roll him far and away from his boss' sight, as per the man's instructions.

Chapter Text

Strolling towards New Vegas, Lucy was feeling pretty happy about herself.

Not only had the Ghoul, Dogmeat and she worked as one well oiled machine to take down the equally impressive machine of a securitron gone bad, but she had also sucessfully overcome both a fear and a prejudice all at once. That was what a prejudice mostly was, afterall: just a baseless fear.

She'd greeted the day with the irrational terror that the Ghoul had been munching away on her, eating her alive, only to willingly wind up letting him lick her hand.

Life was filled with such wonderful surprises and little lessons.

He had just seemed so much in need of her then, all of her terror had flown to the sky, where birds should have been flying more than 200 years ago, even if they were just of the carrion eating persuasion. Her hand had gone to his mouth instinctively, wanting him to keep the liquid down that was saving him from going feral, not for her sake, granted, but for his.

The way the Ghoul usually stuck to his medical regimine had always been commendable. Often, he'd done it with his back turned, she supposed, to help hide his weakness from her, proving how desperately he was trying to hold onto his sense of self and will, afraid of a violence that would consume both. Norm and her had never even took their own medicine that obediently when they were growing up, usually running somewhere so that their dad or Betty wouldn't try to bribe them out with Jello cake in order to take it.

Tough as he was, cruelty personified too, the Ghoul was almost like a good little boy when it came to taking his own medicine. He couldn't stand a single drop being lost of the stuff, even though he had once driven her to drink radioactive animal piss by denying her water.

It simply broke her heart.

It would break it even more if he ran out of his vials and she was called on to end his suffering.

Okay, so maybe, in the end, some selfishness did come into play.

If only just a little.

She'd been unfortunate to witness two ghouls transforming against their wills already, and now could view her own Ghoul's retirement of Roger as a mercy killing. Just like she'd had to do for her mom, Lucy remembered with a frown. But if she had to watch the Ghoul go that way, it may send her fleeing back to the safety of Vault 33, her curiosity and need to find her father be damned.

Life was as much about balance: the loss of losing a man she had come to consider a dear friend outweighing her need for answers or new stimuli.

It was a comfort, and a source of pride, that she had been there to help him when he needed her now, though, the hope of his feralization kept at bay once more.

For who knew how long, maybe, but best to focus on the present anyway.

Right now, Lucy could still feel his tongue against her skin. She didn't even need to relive the moment, she could still feel how he had licked up the expectorated chem from her palm, the tongue feeling so moist, warm and rough against her.

It had been a really nice tongue.

The little taste of it had enticed her into thoughts of what it might feel like elsewhere even, under much different circumstances.

Sigh.

But that wasn't the important thing, she knew, shaking her head and straightening the pack on her shoulders. What was important was how she had been there for the Ghoul when he needed her and they had all worked together as a team.

What was great, as well, was how she had also managed to invoke the spirit of her hero, Cooper Howard, hopefully bringing a smile to his face wherever his spirit currently was at play while his body was resting somewhere in peace.

The Ghoul was defintely not smiling, however.

Nor was he at peace.

He was repeatedly looking at her, following intervals of three minutes a piece, like he couldn't quite figure out what she'd done or who she was anymore. Lucy felt contented she had, in a way, hopefully challenged his own prejudices about Vault Dwellers. Let them teach each other a thing or two, Lucy beamed. That was what she'd continually taught her pupils, afterall, whilst being underground: You learn from me, and you betcha, I'll learn a thing from you too. That was the true meaning at the heart of a decent education.

A mutual wheel of discovery and knowledge.

Lucy was certain she was smiling widely as the shadow of the New Vegas sign loomed ahead of them, a slightly out of place sight in an otherwise barren wasteland. The city was closer now, close enough to see, and Lucy staggered in awe. It was like a man made oasis in the sand, its buildings reaching to the sky with hands made of bricks and concrete. They were sheltered behind a wall, but beckoning them forward as well, a finger curling motioning them to head to Vegas, just like the vintage commercials the securitron inexplicably replayed had exclaimed. At the heart of the city, a tower was erected to rival that of Babel, the roulette like shape crying out for all weary travellers to come and take their chances.

The combined four feet and four paws of the ragtag group of postwar travellers came to a sudden halt to look in wonder at the sight and Lucy MacLean felt like the Ghoul had managed to also read her mind while he'd been stealing his stealthy glances. "If'n you're looking to experience things prewar, Vaultie, New Vegas is your surest bet, pardon the choice of words," he announced, Dogmeat sitting loyally by his side. "Now, that ain't all good, 'fore your hopes go rising like the corners of your mouth, which thankfully you managed to keep shut the rest of the way here."

"I won't," she replied, shaking her head as if that would help convince him.

She lied though.

Her excitement was impossible to contain.

Her dad was momentatily forgotten about, pushed to the back of her mind as her ingrained sense of adventure sped to the foreground. It would be great to experience a little bit of prewar freedom, bright lights and fun all inside a tiny, branched off little city. Kind of like a snow globe, she mused with a smile. Would they have showers, food and accommodations just like a Vault? Would they even have a Vault of their own? Having seen the inhabitants of Vault 4, near Shady Sands, she was unsure how she would feel about that. Something seemed...wrong with the other vaults? Even now, she thought of Benjamin and Birdie and wondered how they really were doing...were they really okay?

Was any Vault safe besides the seemingly blessed 33?

Oh well, best to not even think about it, a Vault was the last thing she'd come to see anyway. She wanted something new.

As in "New" Vegas.

Nearing what she took to be the gate, Lucy felt her excitement reach a boiling point, though neither of her traveling companions seemed to share it. She was virtually bubbling over with expectations, helped in part by the euphoria of the securitron's destruction, riding a high higher than the robot's shoulders she'd straddled to help play cowgirl.

Yeah, she was positively brimming over with emotion...

Only to enter the fabled city of New Vegas and promptly feel nothing.

Well, nothing but disappointment anyway.

It was a city for sure, that much was true, what with the tall buildings and actual people being there, plus a few less-lethal securitrons, but... Beyond that, it looked not that much different from the ruins of Shady Sands. Or the few gathered pligrims over at the Griffith Observatory before the Brotherhood got there.

Did it possibly look any different at night?

She sure hoped so.

"So...this is prewar America..." Lucy reluctantly decided to voice her feelings, gravely disappointed after the echo of splendor which Shady Sands had promised. "Jeez, guess, I wasn't missing too much? Please tell me when the lights are on this gets better?"

She looked to the Ghoul, when met only by silence, to find him busily accessing things in cool confusion. "This isn't what it was like when I was here last," the Ghoul argued from the corner of his mouth, almost trying to convince himself that he wasn't just dreaming the present or the past.

It was even more disconcerting seeing him face this loss then his sudden vulnerability on the mountain of bedrock. Then, at least, he had been in need, something she could react to honestly and try to help him through. Touching him had come naturally, his physical distress the only impetus required. Now he looked angry at his own misjudgement and a little confused by the upset in what he had been expecting to find here. Lucy then truly realized how much he had become her compass since their leaving the observatory, certainly not moral, but a compass regardless to help her navigate her way through things without dying or being taken advantage of.

To find him looking so taken off guard left her feeling like she was being swept up in a tornado.

"Course, I haven't been here in decades..." he confessed, almost apathetically. "And things change out here in the blink of an eye."

Lucy cringed at the speed in which he changed (or more likely adapted) too, adopting a self-preserving ennui. It was probably how he had survived, but if that was what she'd eventually be forced into, Lucy shuddered at the thought. With any luck, the Vault Dweller hoped she could avoid it.

"Get movin'," the Ghoul instructed, his spurs jangling as he took his own advice.

My goodness, she realized, he was cool as crap, though, when he sauntered away like that in his torn, dirty, old coat.

Lucy tried to stuff her disappointment inside her bag with the other items best saved for later, buckle up and move onward. Prewar glamour or not, this was still different from where she'd been and what she knew, and she still intended to learn anything she could from it and see the brightside of things.

Not that, with the more she saw, there was any brightside to be found.

Walking the streets of New Vegas, it was obvious some kind of war had taken place there and not the Great War either. You could see it in the eyes of the damaged citizens and more evident in the debris of aircrafts littering the streets and land.

The mighty sure had fallen, and broken into many pieces along the way.

Mixed in amongst them were the skeletal remains of some giant, intimidating creature. These same skulls, had often been passed in the desert, and Lucy'd been grateful they were all dead and not encountered while they were still walking about with their flesh firmly on. Despite her fear, she'd been close to asking the Ghoul what they were, her natural curiousity winning over the old saying "ignorance is bliss", but then they'd come across the securitron and she'd been, first too busy, then, second too triumphant, to give them much thought. Now she muttered, "I was going to ask you about these," only to get a, "And I was mighty glad you didn't," thrown back in her face in return.

Lucy shrugged it off, believing she'd find it out eventually. Probably. That was if they weren't executed or tossed in prison or any other unforseen calamity they might have to face. The Ghoul hadn't told her much about New Vegas, but after the securitron attack, and the state the place was in, the cards were the least thing they could count on in Vegas.

The functioning securitrons here pretty well left them alone, but Lucy had the inkling it was only because they had previously been warned to. Men, women and children offered looks bouncing from them to the robots, expecting action which never came. They then inevitably hurried on their own way, ignoring the outsiders. She received reassurance, anyway, by one fact alone: the amount of children she saw in New Vegas.

"That's a good sign," she commented, falling alongside her cowboy companion.

"What is?"

"There are so many kids here...I don't know what happened, but that's a good place to start rebuilding things...Children are our major hope for the future...that's what I always believed any way."

The Ghoul was as quick to draw his sneer as his hand cannon. "Just more Vaultie propoganda...Up here, children just mean more innocent lives to needlessly suffer."

Lucy frowned, her hand feeling a little drier.

She was still deflated in spirit, both from the Ghoul's return to his former corrosive attitude and her similarly mourning the unfulfillment of her desire to see a spectacle, when she finally saw something to reignite her passion: A great deal closer now, she could see the long, tall building reaching to the heavens, spotted so easily from outside of New Vegas, and she renewed some of her former giddiness.

"The Lucky 38," she read the logo aloud, her smile resurrected.

"Ain't no luck in it," the cowboy huffed. "Not when the man in the tower deals all the cards out in his favor."

"I don't know," Lucy stated, smiling again at the man. "There's always a degree of luck in anything that happens...like you and I finding each other. I'd call that lucky, wouldn't you?"

The Ghoul fixed her with that stare of his, so opaque and impossible to read. What he must have been thinking came easily enough, however, when he roughly grabbed her right hand and held it up between them, the discolored trigger finger on full display. Having already been in this position one time before, minus one finger, Lucy involuntarily shivered. Seeing she was reliving the past, just as he wanted her to, the Ghoul coldly asked, "You'd call this lucky now, would you?"

"Hey there cowhands, no need to be so serious!" a voice suddenly interrupted and the two newcomers to Vegas turned their heads in quick succession to witness a securitron rolling hastily towards them.

The Ghoul dropped her hand quickly and Lucy held it, still feeling his fingers on her. "Victor, we've come to see House," the Ghoul drawled with some importance.

Lucy watched the securitron's screen flicker, the image of a cowboy on his screen jumping almost in joy. "It's been a long time no see there, Mr..."

"No time for pleasantries, Vic. Just show us on our way, that'll be enough."

Though Lucy found the blunt interruption more than a little rude, the robot seemed fine with it.

"No problem, I purty well understand how things are, myself," it conceded. "Just know, I tip my hat to you, sir."

The image on the screen amazingly moved so Victor was honestly tipping his hat to the cowboy.

"And I do the same fer you too, my good friend," the Ghoul drawled, nodding his head and tipping his own hat towards the securitron. The robot seemed happier now, spinning around and prepared to eagerly show them inside.

The Ghoul turned around to find Lucy standing there, a hand over her mouth, obviously supressing a smile. "What's so funny?"

Her hand fell and she unsuccessfully fought her giggle. "It was just cool...I don't know...a meeting between two cowboys. What would have made it even better is if Cooper Howard was here too...a real old-fashioned jamboree or hoedown or whatever you'd call it."

Flashing another sneer, her companion didn't comment but strode right into the casino, leaving her at the 38's threshhold with their canine tagalong. Lucy looked at Dogmeat and shrugged. "Guess he's not a big fan of Cooper Howard, huh?" she inquired with a pout before both ladies hurriedly went to catch up to their moody male associate.

* * *

The Lucky 38 was a pure dream after having survived the desert for days. Lucy wanted nothing more than to fall on the carpeted floor and just lie there, soaking in all the cool air. The promise of an eventual shower was what urged her forward, along with not wishing to lose sight of the Ghoul for a single second. A fear had come to her now that they had reached the city, he would try to abandon her somehow, ditching the added weight so they could each locate Henry MacLean on their own.

Was that better than using her as some kind of leverage, Lucy wondered?

Probably.

But her heart still broke a little thinking the cowboy could just up and leave her after all they had been through together.

She hadn't even realized she'd hesitated by the lift's opened doors, lost in the fear of this, when the Ghoul, himself, already inside of it, woke her from lingering too much on the possibility. "Get in here, Vaultie. If this damn lift is busted like the rest of the city, I'll need somethin' to fall on after we crash, no matter how depleted of meat you are."

"Right," she mumbled, rushing forward. Never one to be left behind, Dogmeat instantly joined them.

"Good lil' doggie," Victor acknowleged Dogmeat in friendly good nature, but still seemed somewhat stressed. During the ride up, Lucy looked occassionally at the securitron. Possibly after the encounter with the rogue one in the desert, she was on guard, or maybe even a little paranoid, in one's presence.

"He seem a little nervous to you?" she whispered in query to the Ghoul, noticing, as she accidentally bumped into his shoulder, that he seemed a little tense too. He refused to answer her though, always keeping his eyes forward and his downturned mouth shut.

Lucy wondered what he was thinking of.

His past?

Their future?

This House?

The family he had referenced?

He had never really told her anything. Other than that people used to drive here. And that didn't tell her much at all.

That he was old?

She should have been able to tell that from the level of radiation overtaking his body. Lucy frowned, feeling more sorry for him than upset.

The doors slid open and they all stepped out, the securitron going first. "I'll be taking you to Mr. House now. I reckon, he'll be waitin' and lookin' forward to seein' you again too."

Lucy could tell from the Ghoul's movement's he was worried now, but over what, she still couldn't tell. Had he been lovers with House? No, something about that didn't feel right. Had he done something bad? It's not like she would be surprised by that either, Lucy reasoned. He'd shot a man's foot clear off right infront of her. It had to be something else.

They were still being led to wherever House was when she saw a row of something which echoed her earlier thoughts on the city of New Vegas itself. "Snow globes," she commented. "Vault-Tec ones..."

"Part of the boss' own collection, purty lil' lady. Course, he doesn't like seein' them as much now."

She wanted to ask why, but there seemingly was no time. The robot rolled forward and they dutifully followed, business apparently taking precedence over anything else.

Past a tattered curtain, they came to a room where on either side of a huge screen there were staircases, leading to who knew where. The screen itself bore the stagnant image of a man, handsome, in his thirties, possibly 40s, with a moustache. He was dark in features and coloring and somewhat frustratingly familiar, though he shouldn't have been.

Lucy might have spent more time trying to figure out that particular mystery, but her attention was quickly averted as she realized the other point of interest in the room.

A female securitron (at least one with the image of a beautiful brunette at its center) was holding a flesh and blood man captive over to the side of the digitalized man's looming image.

A man decked out in blue and yellow.

A "Vaultie".

Just like her.

Her father.

"Dad," Lucy whispered while he alternately met her eyes and looked away in something resembling shame.

Gone was all her wonder, replaced with only an oversweeping nausea.

"You both finally made it," a voice came from the giant screen, though the image's mouth never moved, wresting her attention thankfully away. "I must apologize for my securitron's behavior. I've been having...issues..."

"You always had certain bugs you needed to work out, House," the Ghoul remarked, facing the screen and standing a few feet infront of the less bold Lucy. "Nothin' new there."

"And what should I say about you?" Mr. House remarked in fond rebuttal. "Last I heard you were buried six feet under and used for your appendages. Every one always did want a piece of you."

The Ghoul laughed bitterly. "Thanks for lendin' a hand and helpin' me out of that scrap, by the way, pal."

"I had my own matters to attend to," House defended. "I intended to get to you eventually, but life presented me with...obstacles."

Lucy squinted as the screen flashed, hurting her eyes in the process. It reminded her unpleasantly of the rogue securitron in the desert.

Eventually House spoke again, sorting out the problem for himself. "Besides, I knew you'd get out of it sooner or later. Nothing could keep you down for long...You are the great Cooper Howard, afterall."

Lucy felt herself jolt.

Her heart stopped its beating and then resumed at a pace that almost physically sent her rocking.

The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and there was a sudden lump in her throat that might as well have been her heart trying its best to escape.

The room took on the quality of what one typically sees underwater and her ears mimicked the act as well, becoming deaf except for the sound of her own breathing.

Her eyes came to rest on the back of the Ghoul's now lowered head and suddenly everything and nothing made sense anymore.

"You're Cooper Howard..." Lucy MacLean whispered, feeling she was lost to another tornado.

Chapter Text

Once, a long time ago, before the whole world had collapsed under the weight of its ignorance, lies and greed, a wise, honest, charitable man named Cooper Howard had been taught to keep his head down during any war he chose to fight for. The reasoning always seemed to be that the soldiers whom lowered their heads survived longer, avoiding snipers and their ammo, the bullets going over them without the added weakness of making their brain an easy target. Howard had never wholly lived by that advice, marking it as a coward whom wouldn't be keeping at least one eye out for his fellow soldiers.

He followed the advice when needed, of course, but not always, believing that a few rules needed to be broken for the love of his fellow man.

And if, while checking on his comrades safety, he ended up losing an eye in the process, he'd heard it was okay too, just as long as he kept his place in Heaven.

Now, so many years after first hearing that advice, when so many of the people he had fought alongside were dead and a part of dust that used to clog his nostrils when he still had had a nose, Cooper Howard was ready to finally heed a long gone sergeant's oft shouted warning.

Upon hearing his name, the Ghoul had lowered his head and he kept it down even now, despite the cry inside him wailing that he was nothing but an old lion with his mane and balls clean sliced right off, so long as he did.

What was he supposed to do though?

It was, afterall, what they'd taught a man called Cooper Howard to do when they were firing bullets at him during wartime. And right now, Lucy MacLean might as well have been a sniper of the most dangerous kind, her beautiful eyes of blue firing bullets at the back of his head, though he refused to even turn around and see them for a second.

He should have turned around and had the courtesy to look at her, at least...

But...

Shit.

All it took was a second and you could die, that was another thing they had taught him so long ago.

One bit of knowledge, he still lived by.

It was better to stay a coward than die by meeting Lucy MacLean's eyes and seeing either her hate or disappointment in him.

He'd long ago forsaken his paradise, anyway, trying hard to make sure that he might find a way to help his daughter find a way to hers instead.

So what if by being with Lucy, he'd momentarily felt a little closer to it again himself.

Damn that House.

He had known it would only be a matter of seconds, from when he walked through the door, until the asshole would be dropping his name like they'd dropped those damn bombs on the country. He'd been bracin' for it, tellin' himself that it didn't matter what happened after because this was where Lucy and him would likely be partin' ways and what did it matter what one little, innocent, doe'eyed Vaultie thought of him anyhow? He'd seen things she never would, been forced to make decisions she should thank God she hopefully never would have to.

She had no right to judge him for fallin' off a pedastal he had no place ever being on.

So why'd he feel like he needed to beg her forgiveness? To fall instantly down on his knees and plead with her to understand?

All for once bein' a man named Cooper Howard.

It was just a name.

Sometimes he acknowledged it, sometimes he didn't. Now it was mostly used when he wanted somethin' and he thought it might help, just another weapon under his belt, and with the world as it was now, you picked and chose those to whatever best fit the situation.

Cooper.

Howard.

Just a name he ignored some days completely.

Why should today be any differnt, even if he felt a pretty set of blue eyes boring into his back, Lucy MacLean's own personal weapons of choice?

He decided to let it fall between them and die, just where House had gone and left it, ignoring his companion's urgent question, as if she wasn't standing there, as the Ghoul now wished to God she wasn't.

"No, never been anything to keep me down, now even more so than ever."

"Good. I'm very glad to hear it. Good to hear some things are unchangeable left in this world..."

The screen flashed again, the Ghoul noting it, but too busy with his own problems to think much on it.

"Now, Coop, if we've expensed with the small talk, if you wouldn't mind telling me why..."

Before the man on the massive screen was halfway done the sentence, the Ghoul felt a weight on his arm, slight but urgent, the fingers wrapping around it.

"You didn't hear me?" he heard Lucy's voice like a bell ringin' in his ear, her hurt clear in every syllable. "You're really Cooper Howard?"

The fingers squeezed even tighter when no answer came, making her hand into a lock, the arm its chain and the young woman's body into the ball at the end of it. This was what he should have been afraid of, the cowboy then knew: that freedom was lost whenever you began to care for something.

The Ghoul tried not to look at her, nor at the screen, which he still hoped would soon bring some sort of salvation.

Afterall, House wasn't the type who was used to being interrupted.

He was a spoiled rich boy, even if his brother had taken all of his money from him when he was only a toddler. Not to mention, the man liked to stay in control, so much so that he had saved New Vegas all to build his autocratic little kingdom in the middle of a dead world. He was bound to feel unnecessary offense at the girl for having overrode and mocked his authority. When the condescending bastard saw fit to reprimand her, it should, at the very least, buy him some time to think. The Ghoul waited for a flash of the eccentric billionaire's usual biting wit to help repel Lucy from him, along with her difficult question, freeing him and saving him in the process.

He was shocked and disappointed, however, when, instead of telling her to butt out, House seemed almost...repentant?

"I am sorry for my blunder in etiquette," Robert House apologized to them both.

Now wasn't the time for the fossilised, digitilized subhuman mixture of wires and embalming fluid to up and act somewhat decent,  the Ghoul snarled. He was supposed to be acting as obnoxious as usual, not going and getting what resembled a conscience.

"I see that you two, whilst traveling a great distance in each other's company, have not yet been formally introduced," House observed, and then, wonders of wonders, proceeded to apologize for a second time in the space of a minute. "I am sorry to have been the one to steal that honor."

Sorry, right, the Ghoul grumbled. He was certain it had to be an act now, never having heard the man utter a sincere apology in his life. Either that, or otherwise, House was as broken as his wasted securitron lying underneath a pile of rubble in the desert. The man was probably gloatin' in his glorified casket though. That was the only logical thing keepin' with his character.

Not that that was what was surprising to the other player left forgotten in the room though.

"You mean, you were traveling with my daughter and you never had the decency to let her know who you were?" a new voice entered the mix now.

Hank MacLean.

The man was complainin' with his holier than though, saviors-of-humanity voice still intact after years of deception and hiding in a steel vault layers underneath the world he'd helped burn.

Instinctively, the Ghoul couldn't stop himself from turning to face his wife's former helper and spit out in vehement hatred, "You spent most a her whole life with her and you never once told her who you were."

Hank blinked and the Ghoul felt Lucy's fingers now almost like a death grip around his arm, begging him to stop the confrontation. That hold, desperate and wounded,  was what made him finally meet her eyes, just as instinctually as he'd met her father's, granted with a lot less anger and a heap more internalized desperation.

"Please," Lucy whispered, matching his unshown desperation, but he couldn't really tell if she was pleading with him to stop lashing out at her dad or to just finally answer her question.

How could he though?

Was he still even Cooper Howard?

The one she wanted him to be.

The particular Howard she'd fallen in love with when she was just a child and that word could still be considered pure and innocent? She'd wanted to marry that Cooper Howard, and, years later, wasn't life so ultimately fuckin' cruel that instead of puttin' a ring on her finger, he'd gone and cut the whole thing off? Oh, how the tabloids would have loved that one. It would have made House, with his own peculiarity of scanning and dressing up starlets without trying to bed them, seem like a perfectly normal, desirable and admirable guy in comparison.

Lucy was still looking at him.

And his head was staying up now.

He wanted to lower it but couldn't.

She needed his answer and for her, this one time once 'gain,he could resurrect the old Howard enough to keep his head held high and offer his answer up to her.

"Yes, I am, sweetheart," Cooper Howard replied, his gloved hand going to the side of her face before he was even aware of its intention. "But sorry, I ain't your Cooper Howard. Not any longer."

His thumb was caressing her cheek, one more impulsive act.

Oh, he was expecting her to hate him for that reply, to look at him with hatred, which typically might have been a jot better than her crying.

But then the silly little Vaultie had to go and do that last one, her eyes filling with tears...

All as she smiled at him too.

"Thank you," Lucy MacLean whispered and offered up the most beautiful, shy smile he'd just about seen this side of when Janey used to talk about her own crushes. "Thank you. That's all I needed to hear."

A solitary tear fell from her eye closest to his hand and his thumb touched it, smearing it into the grime on her cheek.

Staggered, Cooper Howard let his hand fall away, realizing that the young woman wasn't about to hate him or be filled with bitterness that he had once been her hero.

A deep level of understanding (or at least the willingness to) was written all over her pretty features, just as he had wanted.

The Ghoul watched as Lucy then made a step back, took a deep breath and blinked a few times, spilling more tears down her cheeks. They made tracks in the dust which had accumulated there, all except for the smear he had helped create which became a wall they could not penetrate. Cooper realized then, that though his head was lifted, he was still a damn coward because he wanted nothing more than to either wipe 'em away or taste them, but he could do neither. He was frozen in place, in complete awe of her and almost angry, because if everyone else was like her inside that cursed vault o'hers Vault-Tec might just have created a hope for the future afterall.

Yellow bellied as he currently was, the Ghoul allowed himself one brief gift by bringing his glove to his lips, quickly so Lucy might not see it, and letting his tongue lick at its thumb, taking for his own the one tear he had managed to steal as his own.

After a brief lull, House was once again acting a-typical than how was expected: Instead of being upset at the woman's blatant display of sentiment halting his usual need for business, the megalomaniac decided to postpone it even more.

"It's obvious that your journey here has been both tiring and upsetting," the screen suddenly announced. "Tomorrow we'll conduct affairs, but for tonight, make use of the 38's more than comfortable accommodations and recharge your various needs. I will have Jane show you the way."

The securitron was leaving Hank's side now, a little too quickly, happy to show the new guests to their rooms. In her absense, MacLean, whom looked more than a little bewildered to the Ghoul's amusement, stepped forward. "Will I be able to stay here too?" he inquired.

After very little consideration, the ruler of New Vegas informed, "For tonight. Tomorrow I will reconsider my previous invitation. "

The Ghoul stifled more enjoyment over the man's anxiety while Lucy looked properly conflicted.

"We have a supply of chems, including some Radaway for you, Miss MacLean," House instantly resumed his previous conversation, now choosing to ignore his first guest altogether.

Howard watched as Lucy nodded politely, showing Robert House warmth, despite the fact that he was nothing more than a stagnate image on a very big screen. "Very kind of you..."

"Mr. House," the image replied. "But any friend of Cooper Howard can call me Rob or Bob."

Always the annoying star collector, the Ghoul thought, shaking his head with a smirk, tryin' his darndest to hobknob with celebrities...even if they were, by now, all skeletons or ghouls.

Cooper stole the opportunity to lean forward and whisper in Lucy's ear, "Do me a favor and still call him, Mr. House."

"Does that or doesn't that make you and I friends?" Lucy questioned rather nervously from the side of her mouth.

She was too cute for her own good.

"We would stay friends a helluva lot longer," the Ghoul leaned even closer, collecting some of her warmth. "if'n I never have to hear you callin' him either Bob or Rob."

He could almost feel Lucy MacLean's smile.

"Very kind of you...Robert," the girl said more loudly, a little unsure about it all, but easily finding a middle ground to appease both men.

Lucy quickly glanced at the Ghoul, giving him a chance to see her smile now instead of just feeling it.

Backing away, Cooper Howard treasured the smile intended just for him, but was painfully aware, at the same time, that with them having finally reached New Vegas, it meant it probably wouldn't be lasting for far too long either.

At least, not with what he had planned for her daddy.

Chapter Text

Hank had not been anticipating the sheer wave of emotions he was set to experience from the moment Lucy had walked into the 38. Having just believed that he would lose her forever, his soul had plundered the depths of gratitude, grateful just to see again the sweet face he had cherished for all of her life. If he hadn't been under the careful watch of Jane, he might have been compelled enough to run across the room, sweep his precious girl into his arms and then hug her until death forced him to finally let her go.

That feeling had been completely washed away, however, when he'd seen how Lucy had actually looked at him in return.

Though there was some conflict in her gaze, some spare traces of love mixed in with memory, they had been choked in part by what had happened at the new NCR headquarters. Although, he had hoped that Lucy might have been able to overcome her preconceived notions regarding his actions with Shady Sands, it was clear, in that moment, she hadn't been able to. His only daughter was looking at him with her own vast assortment of feelings, feelings that ranged from fear, sorrow and revulsion.

That look was a slap to his soul. Though still thankful she had survived the securitron attack, he wished that she had shared even a smidgeon of the feeling of relief he had felt to see him alive and well too.

He supposed that disappointment slightly soured his mood after that, it not improving any bit whatsoever with how the Ghoul glanced at him once with the most smug "I've got you now, boy" look as House went back to trying to be all buddy buddy with his one time movie star aquaintance.

Not that Howard was the only cowboy whom seemed unfriendly towards him either, MacLean mourned.

Even Victor was staying far away, preferring to occupy the other side of the room than be in the vicinity of someone whom had lost his boss' favor so quickly.

Infact, the only creature in the entire room who wasn't looking at him with some negative emotion attatched to it was the dog the Ghoul and Lucy had brought along with them. The German Shepherd sat there staring at him on occassion, her tongue hanging out and looking very parched. If he could have, if only for the look of nonjudgement in the canine's eyes (and his past training as a people pleasing executive), Hank would have rushed to get her a bowl of water.

It had been a long time since he'd seen one, dogs not being allowed inside of the vaults and all, but he'd always liked them before and besides that.

He'd been a little encouraged by the comfort of one being left that didn't seem to hate him on top of it, when some unexpected bit of drama started to play out between the Ghoul and his Lucy and everything else faded into the background.

Though he probably should have known it, MacLean had never stopped to think the Ghoul would actually conceal his own identity from the girl. The moment he'd found out they'd been traveling together, Hank's mind had conjured up images of the man delighting in telling his little Lucy all about Vault-Tec and the exact reason why they knew each another. He had expected Howard to spare no dirty detail in trying to turn his own flesh and blood against him, just like Moldaver had done. And, of course, just like her, it would all be filtered through his eyes, leaving little room for any other point of view or opinion.

The moment it had become obvious the coward hadn't been able to come clean, Henry MacLean had felt something like hope suddenly seizing him. Maybe now there would be someone Lucy would hate a little bit more, if only for the freshness of the betrayl and nothing else.

She'd always loved Cooper Howard and his films afterall.

It must have been shocking for the poor girl to see how far the mighty had fallen.

The father could very well remember when the daughter had been growing up and her constant adulation of the bright and shining movie star Cooper Howard. He hadn't bothered to correct her from it, even while being perfectly aware of the man's disloyalty to his country. It wasn't Lucy's fault that Howard had stumbled and, at least, the movies they enjoyed watching together had all been made before his humiliation. Best to keep the disappointment from his daughter, having experienced it already firsthand so many ages ago. Little girls needed their heroes, afterall, and even if he had to share that role with Cooper Howard, he'd once adored the man as well.

Now, though, it was wonderfully okay that Lucy knew and hated him.

It had come at just the right moment, with some complicated feelings already existing between the two it seemed. Surely, this would be the straw necessary to break the camels back, and by now, Lucy had to have seen what type of man Howard had degenerated into. It would be the perfect illustration of what happened to people when they stayed above ground for too long; she would come to understand why he had done what he had to Shady Sands.

Hank had been practically gloating while the Ghoul had been finding it difficult to even look Lucy in the eye.

Good.

Now they were company, at least, Hank mused, besides being just enemies.

Cooper Howard and him.

Two losers in the eyes of the girl whom had loved them both.

But then Lucy had gone and done it.

Done the very thing which had humbled him back at the observatory, and sent his mind spinning.

Lucy had gone and been a good person, just as he and Rose had raised her to be, forgiving the Ghoul for the secret he'd kept between them about the truth of his identity.

Jealousy had then overtaken the former aid of Cooper Howard's own wife, seeing the cowboy receiving so easily what Lucy refused to give him. Besides that, there was also obviously something between the Ghoul and his daughter, some intimacy the two might not even be aware of, but which had been forged underneath the blazing desert sun and scorched, radioactive sands. It was broadcast in every single motion they made, whispered in the tone of their voices, even in how the man had told Lucy he was no longer her Cooper Howard.

Like a part of him wished that wasn't true.

Hank had been left fuming in a flash of green until House had invited the newcomers to stay, then when his own future was in doubt, been basically informed that he was standing on shaky ground until tomorrow when it might open completely and swallow him whole.

If he hadn't been so equally afraid of the forces waiting for him outside of New Vegas, Henry MacLean might have chosen to sneak away during the night. Unfortunately, as things stood, it was possibly safer to remain and take his chances in the city designed for it. Even if the Ghoul was here and ready to use his hand cannon to send him on to Kingdom Come, should the opportunity properly present itself.

Sometime probably after he'd wrung from him the information he so desperately desired.

That knowledge was the only thing saving him.

As long as both the Ghoul and House needed some piece of information from him, he could stay alive. After that...well, Henry MacLean was just praying for a miracle.

House was requesting to talk to Cooper over some trifling detail now, when Hank noticed Jane taking Lucy out of the room, escorting her to her accommodations, presumably. Seizing this moment,  when he had been pretty well forgotten, the previous leader of Vault 33 crept after both females, leaving the German Shepherd behind with a quick pat on her head as he passed by. He would have given her a quick "Thank you", as well, if he could have been certain it would not have been overheard.

When Jane and Lucy had made it several feet out of the room where House and the Ghoul were still talking, Hank quickened his own pace and boldly approached his daughter. "Lucy...we have to talk," he stated.

Jane looked the more startled between both human and robot, and though Lucy looked on guard, she still told the securitron, "It's okay." Steeling herself then, Lucy bravely took a step closer towards him.

Smiling, Hank was about to offer her a big thank you too, when his daughter warned him with her eyes to properly shut up and listen.

"Dad, I had a rather tiring trip here today, one where I was almost murdered by a rogue robot. Then, I made a thoroughly shocking discovery,  while standing infront of some guy's massive digitalized head. If you want to talk fine, but please make it short and don't expect me to be all cheerful and friendly during or after it."

"It's just a relief that you're even talking to me, Lucy," he replied truthfully. "I was afraid you wouldn't."

"You taught me to listen. I was reminded of that recently," Lucy stated resolutely. "That is another way we learn...that was what you always said, at least."

Hank stared into her face, so much like Rose's and he felt his tongue grow almost too heavy to speak. "And you were always a good listener, the best," he finally found the strength to talk. "And you have to hear me out now...but I just...I have so much to tell you."

"Well, hand me the abridged version if you can," Lucy remarked, visibly weary. "I really need to just lie down in a place where something won't try to kill me."

His eyes darted to the securitron, unsure of what he could say in her presence. Jane still worked for House, no matter how out of control the autocrat was becoming. If she was recording any of this for her boss, he couldn't risk revealing something that could still be used as a bargaining chip. He needed the leverage to help keep him out of his enemies reach.

"If I could just talk to you alone," he whispered.

Lucy looked concerned, her normally large blue eyes becoming even more huge.

"Jeez, I'm not sure Mr. House would like that," Jane was interrupting now to hesitantly protest, her protocols being enacted.

"No, it would be all right, if I could just..."

Even Lucy was seemingly reluctant to listen any longer now, shaking her head and saying, "Dad, I don't think that's a good idea. I just want to..."

In his desperation to help plead his case, Hank was reaching for her arm, taking it and intending to guide her away as he'd often done when she was a child. "It will be okay...I won't take more than a few min..."

Suddenly the words were knocked out of him. A pain seized his lower back, where Jane had spent the previous night massaging, and he felt his body being hoisted up against his will. Thrown into a wall, Hank saw the reason for his pain, the reason for a great deal of his pain recently: Cooper Howard, in all his current inhumanity, was snarling at him, his arm pressed against his throat and blocking his airway.

"She said she doesn't want to hear it, Hank," Cooper Howard spat directly into his face, the spit from the ghoul's radioactive mouth hitting his now perfectly clean skin.

Hank started to gasp, hoping for some air to make its way in, but being unable to breathe for even just a second.

"NO! NO! IT'S OKAY!" Lucy was interceding, grabbing at the Ghoul's arm and trying to pull him away.

Things were starting to swim, the room swirling, and the elder MacLean was wondering if this was how anyone in Shady Sands felt after the explosion which had decimated their city. It served him right if it had, he realized, when the Ghoul took a step back. Hank fell to a pile on the ground, trying to replenish his lungs and prove to himself that the other man hadn't damaged his windpipe.

The dog which had traveled with Lucy and Howard now came up to him again, smelling his face in curiosity.

"Dogmeat, don't get too close," Cooper Howard snapped. "That's just about the most dangerous snake you're ever likely to encounter."

The dog looked up at her master, whimpering just a little.

Lucy was looking down at Henry now, concern at least etched on her face, even though she was still clinging to Howard's arm as if they were the oldest of friends.

Or of lovers, Hank thought bitterly.

"Oh, please, now can you all just stop it and let me show you to your rooms?" Jane was begging, distress clear in every accented word she spoke. "I don't want Mr. House to get mad at me, not again!"

Her words, sharp and shrill, hung in the air like icicles to help chill the heated atmosphere, and although she wasn't acknowledged in any way, her fear had an effect on all of the parties involved.

"Let's just go," Lucy tried to coax Cooper into creating a distance between himself and his perceived target, her hand rubbing his arm and making Hank feel protective and worried all at once.

The Ghoul looked at her and the expression on his face made MacLean even more anxious over what had transpired between the man and his daughter.

Had they actually become lovers? If they had, was there enough Radaway stored away in House's cupboards to help save his Lucy?

Although, he was worried that the cowboy would kick him, Cooper Howard merely turned away and started following Jane, whom was repeatedly muttering, "Thank you" in response.

His breath back now, Hank MacLean felt Dogmeat lick his face once before she joined the others, leaving the disgraced father sitting on the Lucky 38's floor and feeling like a dog himself, one unable to lick its own wounds.

Chapter Text

Although, Lucy would have thought nothing could beat the awkwardness experienced with her dad a few moments before, something almost gave it a run for its money when Jane, showing the Ghoul and her to their separate rooms, stopped outside one door and suddenly seemed to have the robotic equivalent of an epiphany.

"Oh Jeez! Wait! I'm really sorry," she apologized. "Maybe, I'm being a silly nilly and you two wanna share a room!"

"Wait" and "What" were spoken in unison by both Cooper Howard and her, but the words were spoken in such synchronicity, and with both of them so incredibly flustered, Lucy couldn't even be certain which word beginning with a W she'd been the one to say.

"I was just thinkin' that maybe you're a couple," Jane explained, her tone becoming coy and sugary suddenly. "And you're used to sharing each other's company for the night...like me and Mr. House used to, in the biblical sense, or more like the virtual reality sense. Course that was...sniff...before..."

The securitrons voice was trailing off, implicating some cause of sadness to her, but Lucy was still too embarrased by the robot's mistaken assumption about her and the Ghoul, which now went hand in hand with the shocking hint that Jane and the giant head had some unusual sexual relationship going on, to spend too much time thinking about it.

"No, it ain't like that," the Ghoul stated first, preventing Lucy from denying the claim before him.

Lucy blinked a few times. Was she offended he'd just been as trigger happy as always to shoot the possibility down before even contemplating it or allowing her a say? Should she have been?

She tried to eagerly adopt the same stance, accepting his feelings, but still confused over the tumult overtaking hers, "No, it ain...no, I mean, it isn't like that at all," she stumbled, shaking her head.

The Ghoul was looking at her now, with the first hint of outright embarrassment on his face and she wondered if he'd be blushing if his face wasn't so red to begin with. Was he looking at her in apology? Did he possibly feel bad if he had hurt her feelings? Or, wait, had he been wanting, waiting for her to object?

Did he actually want to share a room?

They stood staring at one another, Lucy quite certain that he was feeling exactly like she was: a little bit humiliated, greatly confused and unexpectedly excited.

All of these emotions, however, went supposedly unrecognized by their female, mechanical host. Lost in her own blue study, she was still sniffling as she went and decided the matter without them. "I'll give you rooms opposite to each other, just incase you change your mind," Jane declared. "You take this one, Mr. Howard, while you, Miss, can use that room across the hall."

What were they feeling now as they looked at each other, Lucy wondered. Disappointment? Problem was with that theory, the expression on the Ghoul's face went back to being so granite and assertive, she might as well have imagined, or been projecting, any hesitancy on his part.

"Thanks Jane, that'll do," he acknowledged the securitron with a nod of his head and tip of the hat as he strode confidently into his designated room.

"Thanks," Lucy said, but her heart was only halfway in it, what with it still racing and aching as it was.

"And which one of you gets the cute little doggy woggy here" Jane asked while addressing Dogmeat in cloying baby talk.

Dogmeat answered the question herself by happily trotting into the Ghoul's lodgings without even bothering to look back.

"Oh," Jane remarked. "I should have considered that possibility too. Sorry."

Lucy raised her eyebrows gleaning her unusual meaning. How freely did House run things in New Vegas anyway?

While she was left feeling offended that the Ghoul hadn't tried to correct that assumption as swiftly as he had the thought he may possibly be sharing a room with her, Lucy almost got a bad case of whiplash when the securitron spun around to roll hastily away down the hall and then looked back, after hearing the door across from her closing firmly shut, finding that she'd been left without a say on her own.

"Okay then...well goodnight everybody," Lucy said more or less to herself before, more quietly, closing the door shut behind her.

* * *

Sleep didn't really come as speedily as she had hoped.

After the day they had had, she'd been kind of hoping it would.

Though she had lain down on a bed that had made even the ones back in the vault feel like they were stuffed with cardboard, Lucy's mind was too badly racing for her to even feel the least bit drowsy. First she had the confrontation with her father to deal with and secondly the big reveal of whom her traveling companion had been all along. She chose to center on the latter, because the outcome wasn't so clouded in uncertainty and so many uneasy feelings, and also because it was admittedly more thrilling.

Cooper Howard.

Thee Cooper Howard.

Wow.

She'd actually slept on top of Cooper Howard.

For a series of sequential nights, no less.

For all the days they'd been traveling together, he'd been her Cooper Howard and she'd never even suspected it. Well, not her Cooper Howard any longer, as he'd seen fit to remind her, ever so gently. Lucy MacLean held up her hand, staring at her discolored new finger and frowning ever so slightly too.

Had he known what was about to happen when they'd been standing outside of the 38? Was that what he'd been trying to tell her secretly while grabbing her hand and holding it up like an insurmountable wall between them.

Her eyes watered. She couldn't help it. But more than just from a pity meant for herself, they formed out of a sympathy intended for the Ghoul, himself. It was close to how she had felt after having to shoot Martha at the Super Duper Mart and then having realized, in a blinding flash of empathy, what had driven her tormentor into trying to sell her. There were many losses in the world but maybe the most devasting a person could face was the loss of one's own self.

Afterall, when you lost that, everyone you ever loved or cared about went along with it.

Who was Cooper Howard afraid of losing so badly?

Whom had he already lost?

Putting her hands behind her head, the replaced finger now out of sight as it was behind her mind, Lucy stared at the ceiling and tried to review everything she knew about her long time crush.

Her dad honestly hadn't told her too much about her hero. Most of their talk had involved his movies and characters, most discussions happening either during or after having watched one of the actor's many films. Norm had even teased them about it, in his usual disinterested manner, saying, if they wanted to abduct him into the Cooper Howard fanclub, they could very well forget about it because he was more of a Johnny Morton man himself. Their father, however, had been a Cooper Howard fan through and through. But while they'd both been a part of the Howard "fan club", gushing over the guy's personal life had stayed a pretty well closed off matter. She had asked about it though, at least once. Now, come to think about it, her dad had been properly evasive, while remaining similarly starry eyed. He'd said something about Howard having been married to a Vault-Tec executive or something. While the revelation had filled her with pride that she was dwelling inside of a Vault-Tec vault, she'd also had to deal with a flare up of a little girl's natural feelings of jealousy.

It was hard to still picture marrying the object of your childish hopes and dreams, afterall, when they were already married. Even if she'd believed then that the happy couple were both dead. That fact was hardly relevant to her.

Of course, it had been a little easier after she'd discovered that Cooper and his wife had divorced before going their separate ways to the sweet hereafter.

Lucy had discovered this, not from her father, but from an actual Hollywood magazine Norm had discovered while going through one of the secured rooms he'd managed to hack his way into. He was an impossibly clever little booger that way. The room was filled with the belongings of past Vault dwellers, those whom had passed on and long ago been hygenically disposed of. There'd been a box filled with the old magazines, the initials P.P taped on it, and the two of them had sat down on the floor going through them, feeling the indescribable joy and terror you could only experience when doing something you knew you shouldn't be doing.

It had been a blast really, but also more than a little sad to see a lifestyle that had come and gone without either of them having ever been able to taste even a little of it. Even her brother, whom usually adopted an air of apathy, had become lost in history. Things really had been different back then.

It was while going through the magazines, she'd finally seen Cooper Howard's wife, accompanying an article on their divorce. Well, which at one time had accompanied an article on their divorce. It had been cut out, possibly by someone else harboring their own secret crush on the Hollywood cowboy. They had, however, left the picture of Barbara Howard intact.

Yeah.

That had been her name.

Barbara.

They'd left the photograph behind probably because they had no real intetest in the woman, only her husband. Or rather ex-husband. Though sharing the unknown scissor weilder's feelings, Barbara Howard had still been stunning to the young Lucy MacLean's eyes. When she grew up, could she ever hope to be that pretty and poised? Barbara Howard had been beautiful and regal, the type of woman whom had apparently gone to court with her head held high and with her own personal group of supporters sitting loyally behind her.

Lucy could remember now looking at the group in the back of the photograph, all slightly blurry and comprised mainly of halftone dots. She'd squinted at the photo, done a double take and then been thoroughly confused.

"Norman?" she'd asked, using his full name like she often did when she was baffled and needed help.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

He hadn't answered and she'd turned to find him holding the magazine in his hands sideways. Probably looking at some pinup of a Hollywood starlet, sporting one of those weird bras some strange guy from Las Vegas had rumoredly created. That had been the subject of another article she'd encountered but turned the page on, not finding it particularly intetesting.

From the looks of it, Norm sure did though.

"Norm!" she'd snapped.

"What is it?" he groaned, upset that she'd interrupted his admiration of the supposed genius' gravity defying handiwork again.

"Does this guy look like dad to you?" Lucy had asked and scooted over to show the photograph to her brother, putting the magazine between them so a page rested on a thigh a piece.

Norm had stared at it, then grabbed the whole thing to take a closer look. "Yeah...kind of. Maybe. But with all the dots, it's hard to tell. Besides, it can't possibly be. Not our dad. That would make him old, like really old, even older than he is now."

He'd dropped the magazine then, preferring to resume his perverted peering of the woman in her rocket bra.

Lucy had picked it up again, though, staring at it even longer and from more up close. Eventually she had to hold it farther away, it looking slightly more clearer that way. Darn it. She hated when Norm was right. She had flipped to the front cover then, reading the date and ultimately deciding that he had to be right about it not being their dad too. It was so long ago, if it had been their dad, it meant he would have surely died. Just like the owner of the magazines they were looking through.

Not long after that, Chet had unfortunately shown up and had one of his anxiety attacks, listing off the rules and reasons why they weren't supposed to be in there, and both of the MacLean children had reluctantly left the box and room behind, just to make him quieten down a little so that all three of them wouldn't be discovered and punished.

One last thing about the photograph had bothered her, though, a word she wasn't familiar with in the caption beneath it, and she'd asked her father about it at supper that night.

"Dad?"

"Yes Lucy?"

"What's a custody battle?"

Years later, knowing what she did now, Lucy understood the exact reason why Henry MacLean's face had blanched at that word and why his explanation had been brief and somewhat stilted.

"It's when the mother and father of a child have separated and both try to fight to see where the child lives."

In the present, Lucy swallowed, more tears coming to her eyes, remembering the decimated remains of Shady Sands, where boys hid in milk vending machines to survive and women kept their ghoulified lovers in chains because they couldn't bear to kill them.

However, while Lucy had come to know the outcome of MacLean vs MacLean, Howard vs Howard was still a mystery to her.

She didn't even know the name of the child whom had been involved and most likely wounded, as most children ended up being when faced with the decisions of their parents.

Her thoughts becoming too painful again, Lucy tried to switch to a happier area.

Cooper Howard had had a dog.

Yep.

A dog named Roosevelt.

His cherished costar in "A Man and His Dog".

Lucy tilted her head in thought.

Maybe that explained the Ghoul's suffering of Dogmeat and her undeniable devotion to him. The canine could sense that the man ultimately meant her no harm, besides that which involved his business. He was a dog lover at heart.

If, thankfully, not in the same way Jane had meant it.

Lucy smiled, the tears on her cheeks beginning to dry. She wondered what her two companions were doing across the hall from her, now realizing that, without them closeby, she was incredibly lonely.

Maybe she should go and check on them just to make sure that they were all right, she reasoned. They might have reached New Vegas, afterall, but that didn't mean that there still weren't hidden threats and obstacles to overcome, as well as those pesky side missions the Ghoul was always complaining about. Just look at whatever had befallen New Vegas itself.

Lucy sat up in an instant, walking to the door, a woman on her own little mission.

As she was about to cross the threshold, Lucy was surprised to see the door across the hall mirroring her own, Cooper Howard starting to journey out, halting in mid cowboy-booted step as he spotted her doing the same.

"Uh...hi," Lucy greeted shyly.

"Yeah...hi," the Ghoul mumbled.

"Funny meeting you here, huh?" the girl tried to quip but then felt embarrassed by how lame it sounded even to her.

The Ghoul studied her. "Look, I was just about to apologize for what I did to your daddy when you two were just tryin' to talk. That was hot headed of me."

"No, no," Lucy rushed to say. "I was just about to thank you for what you did with my dad back there...I mean, not that I think he would have hurt me, and not about throwing him up against the wall, which probably hurt, but...I mean thank you. Thank you for looking out for me and caring...I mean, if you care. I really appreciate it."

Howard offered up a smile that was neither smug nor particularly happy. "I was just doing what your father should have, meanin' lookin' out for you. That's just what good fathers do."

Lucy smiled, grateful yet hoping he wouldn't continue through with stepping into her father's shoes. It suddenly bothered her if the man started seeing her as some sort of surrogate for the lost child she knew so little about. "Thanks."

The Ghoul nodded again, he looked close to going back to his room when he hesitated for a second.

He's going to invite me in, Lucy thought.

He's going to ask me to spend the night.

And she was trembling slightly thinking about what her answer would be.

"I'm sorry about that awkwardness with House's securitron too...If she embarrassed you too much, I'll have a word with House to program her a little better. He can manage it, I think."

Darn, Lucy thought, shocking herself with the sheer level of her disappointment.

"Oh that? Pfffttt...that was nothing," she gave him a small motion with her right hand. "I've already been married to a guy who tried to kill me on my wedding night. Believe me, Jane was nothing."

The Ghoul looked stunned. "You're married?"

"Yup. I was anyway. I was made a widow that same night. Dad drowned him in a pickle barrel."

Cooper Howard was actually smiling now, a hot and sexy offering that made her knees suddenly weak. "Glad ole Hank finally managed to do somethin' else right."

"What was the first thing?" Lucy inquired, oblivious.

Howard had honestly thought long and hard about it before he replied, not so much because he didn't know the answer, but because he was uncertain if he should. "He helped make you."

Lucy was staggered.

Possibly even more than the earlier realization that the ghoul standing before her had once been Cooper Howard.

"I...I thank you," she whispered, feeling like a warped record.

Silence came between them in the hallway, the only guest at the 38 it felt, other than Dogmeat, whom was probably asleep on the bed in the Ghoul's room.

Lucy tried to break it, feeling her body become overheated despite the general coolness of the building. "Yes...dad...He saved me from that...um...bad marriage...bad choice, not that we had much of a choice in our vault. We were kind of selected out of several candidates. I didn't know who he really was...a raider."

Cooper Howard's eyes were on her, intense and catching the light in dazzling ways.

Gosh. She felt like she was apologizing for not waiting for him and marrying Monty instead, but how the heck could she have even known he was still alive out there...maybe she was apologizing to herself? Probably. But unfortunately without a Monty she never would have met the real live Cooper Howard. If the Ghoul could show momentary gratitude to her father, Lucy guessed, she could be grateful to her shortlived husband for that one thing too.

"Marriage weren't much better before the bombs fell," Cooper Howard replied, his voice full and thick with memory. "You never quite knew who you were marrying then either...or be certain they wouldn't up n change on you."

Remembering the picture of Barbara Howard she'd seen all those years ago, Lucy knew he understood first hand just what he was saying. She wondered what the full story was behind it all, not just the clipping that had been cut out, but the whole ballad of Cooper Howard, sung in his own voice.

She would have loved to listen to it sometime.

It was a tale not meant for tonight, though, it appeared.

"Now, this might be a difficult task for a chatterbox such as yerself, but I want you to go get yer sleep, Vaultie," the Ghoul suddenly commanded, his tone leaving no room for further chit chat or arguments. "It's been a busy day, and with House layin' out his terms in the morning, I'm thinkin' it will be just as troublesome t'morrow."

"Do you think it will be really bad?"

Howard scowled. "I've never been one for bettin' on Robert House's next move. None of us ever were. Maybe I could get by on yesteryear, me and him, but now, I'm not too sure. Something seems off...Just be prepared and careful for anythin'."

Lucy met his eyes and nodded. Just like when she had been a child, she was trusting in him to help her get by. "Got it," she said.

They were back to staring again, and Lucy just wanted him to tell her goodnight this time instead of closing the door without saying anything.

As luck would have it, she got her wish.

"Goodnight Lucy," the Ghoul stated, the lilt in his voice close to a lullaby.

"Goodnight...Cooper," Lucy said, her heart glowing at the chance to finally say his name.

One more polite nod and the door was shut, leaving the former Vault Dweller to return to her own room, repeating her last words to an empty hallway and the silence which still lingered there like a ghost.

"Goodnight Cooper."

Chapter Text

Not since his divorce had Cooper Howard ever spent a night feeling so damn lonely and aching.

Though Dogmeat had crawled into bed with him, intent on sharing her body heat and wet tongue, Coop couldn't help but feel like he had left something far better in the hallway, after Jane had gone and made her frustrain' assumption that he and the Vaultie might actually be sleeping together.

Frustratin' more than anything because it had gone and put thoughts inside his head, and feelins in his body, that had no rightful place bein' there.

It wasn't that they hadn't crossed by his mind before neither. It just was keepin' them corralled was mighty tough business as it were and he didn't need one of House's blasted securitrons tearing the door off the stable and letting them run free like a couple of stallions with their wild oats to sow.

'Specially not with such a dear and precious little filly standin' by his side, lookin' about as delectable and temptin' as those same before mentioned oats.

And then Lucy, herself, had had to go compound the stupid robot's error by lookin' like she really did want him to say that they were together in that very special way and she would be more than willing to let the bucket of bolts actually show them to the same room so they could make things official.

The rogue securitron in the desert might 'ave been a lethal enough foe to conquer but it damn well had nothin' on Lucy MacLean, what with her wide bedroom eyes and her figure shown off to perfection in that dumb blue and yellow Vault-Tec suit.

The very same suit that had eventually come to represent the bane of his existence.

The Ghoul was pretty well convinced that never, not for one second of his stupid, naive, cursed and hamfisted life had Cooper Howard ever, ever put on so good a bit of acting as he had done when he'd up and left the girl standing unanswered in the hallway, ignoring the opportunity like it had meant nothin' to him, when, in fact, it had felt like a new world was suddenly presented to him all wrapped up in Lucy MacLean's beautiful, little body.

Oh, fer sure, old Coop had managed quite a few good performances here and there throughout his career, usually when his naive convictions were well put into use, but he didn't have a prayer with competing against what it took for him to just casually ignore the prettiest, most adorable girl that had ever crawled out of a vault, duck her devastating disappointment and just waltz into his suite without dragging her along with him and proceeding to do all the sexy, naughty things he'd been tryin' not to think of doin' to her ever since he'd had her on what ammounted to a human leash.

That Dogmeat would most likely be in the room with them at the time, or that her weasely daddy was somewhere underneath the same roof, really made no difference to the Ghoul. The pure amount of need and want he felt for Lucy MacLean, coursing through every inch of his ghoulified body, was a force bigger than even dogs, daddies or death and only intensified by how the Vaultie was treatin' him now that she knew the truth 'bout who he was or had been.

That he had once been her hero Cooper Howard (obviously still was in her mesmerizin' eyes) wasn't somethin' to make her disgusted with him. No. She was lookin' at him with all the understandin' and patience he had ever hoped for and something that could still pass for a deepseated respect too, though that might fade should she learn more about his life following the war that had ended all wars.

There was one other thing he saw in her heart when she looked at him, and maybe it was more important to him than either understanding or even love.

Acceptance.

Lucy MacLean was looking at him still with flat out, unadulterated acceptance.

He'd been through so much, done so many things contrary to what he'd once believed was right or wrong, that that was an emotion he couldn't even offer to himself anymore, not when he'd looked back at the person he used to be. It made him sick most days, so a split had started in his soul way before the first signs of becoming a ghoul had reared its noseless head. It had become easier to adopt the role he used to play inside of his films, amped up and merged partly with the same black hats he used to arrest and then kill. He was part good guy and bad guy, an oversimplified, caricature of a part in a movie, not the flesh and blood human being whom had once wanted nothing more than to raise chickens up in the mountains with his wife and baby girl.

He realized his whole life after the end of things had been one long performance. One he wasn't exactly sure he could cancel this late in the game, no matter how sweet Lucy MacLean was. It was hard enough to teach an old dog new tricks, let alone askin' it to unbury the ones it had long ago forsaken.

This was a fact the Ghoul was well aware of after he'd up and left Lucy, retreatin' back to his lonely room with only Dogmeat for company.

Despite this knowledge, however, he'd yearned to try.

Partly, what had driven him to the hallway for a second time, on his way to knock on Lucy's door, but stopped dead in his tracks when he'd seen her headin' in his direction too.

They'd both been goin' to each others room, one to apologize one to say thank you, and the Ghoul wondered what would have happened if they hadn't seen each other standin' in their respective doorways. If Lucy had come a knockin', would she be lying' on his bed now instead of just Dogmeat? Likewise, if'n he'd made it to the Vaultie's door, could he have found the strength to step inside and see where New Vegas took them both? Had it been good luck or bad which had kept them both shyly resigned to their doors, getting nearer to the truth of how they felt for each other than they'd ever been, yet still square dancin' around it so things stayed on an even keel where nothing ventured meant nothing lost.

Losin' was common practice in New Vegas, afterall.

Just ask its so called ruler, the orchestrator of all things, Mr. Robert House.

When he turned back to face the emptiness of the room (beggin' Dogmeat's pardon), the Ghoul had felt that, while his luck had been holdin', it could very well run out at any given second.

Particularly with his plans for Hank MacLean still written in stone at the back of his mind and House's earlier discussion still gnawin' away at his nerves like a croupier's commandments.

He hadn't told Lucy that his talk with House hadn't put him in any better of a mood when he'd thrown her father up against a wall.

Lying back on the bed, Dogmeat nestling up to him again in a way that was painfully reminiscent of Roosevelt (if not also Barb, God help him), Howard petted her back, remembering what his good ole pal had wanted so badly to chat with him over while the MacLeans were forgotten about and Lucy was bein' escorted away by Jane.

Believin' completely that the giant head of House was about to renew what the man equated as some sort of friendship, either that or his gettin' ready to come clean early 'bout how he intended to deal with Henry MacLean, the Ghoul had just 'bout been knocked right outta his boots when House had just sort of stared at him for a while, his screen blinking rapidly for a few seconds, before he had almost unnervingly whispered two small words.

So small and unexpected from Robert House, the Ghoul had almost not heard them.

His face crinkling, becoming as animated in his confusion as House's remained stagnant, the Ghoul had scowled up at the screen, certain he'd had to have misheard him and decidin' it best to politely ask him to say it again.

"Repeat that for a second, you egotiscal, pickled son of a bitch."

There was a moment of silence, one where the ghost of Vegas was probably wondering how his guest could be either so deaf, obtuse or both.

"Be careful," House hissed again, a little more louder and far more clearer then.

The Ghoul had sneered, believing that House was probably thinkin' it amusin' to get him up there and then start playin' the role of condescending bastard. Apparently, he thought it would be cute to hand out the damn well obvious advice for handlin' New Vegas, when he'd played the part of a coward, lying protected somewhere inside of the Lucky 38 and running the city while he, Cooper Howard, had gone on livin', breathin' in radiation day in and day out while facing horrors House had only seen in the midnight showings of midnight creature features.

"What do you think's kept me alive this long?" the Ghoul had fired back, having no more desire to stand and listen to the billionaire's pontificating when there was a nice soft bed waiting for him somewhere inside of the 38.

His back was turned and he was walking away when the next unexpected words were stated, no longer in a whisper but loud enough only for Cooper Howard to hear them.

"I always suspected you're need to see your family again was what kept you alive," House answered and the words, aided by the man's uncharacteristic tone, were enough to stop the listener dead in his boots.

The spurs jangled noisily as they came to a halt and the Ghoul stood still for a few seconds before turning around, slowly and with his teeth bared.

"Last time we talked, you thought I was stayin' around to kill everyone whom had screwed me over," the cowboy snarled through his set of remarkably pearly whites. "That was what you were always tryin' to prove to me anyway."

House had never really believed in sentimentality nor bought that he might actually want to see Janey or Barb again. Before his premature burial, the Ghoul could well remember all the man's snide remarks and jokes, ones made for his own amusement if nobody else's, constantly ridiculing any nod to family or the ties that could bind people together, no matter the wounds and betrayals that might have occurred between them. To hear him now so blatantly and sincerely admit that a man's need to see the two people he had once loved more than anything else was all that was motivating him to see tomorrow was like hearing Satan honestly changing his tune to write his own chapter of the gospel.

No matter how honest it appeared, it had to be a trick. Just another card game the hustlers on the strip used to perform to steal something from their audience. Out of sheer boredom, House had to have found some new game to play in Vegas to keep his wits a workin' and razor sharp.

Only question was, what game was it? And how did you play by House's rules?

House continued to stare back, his image unchanged, at least, for all of the fuckin' skippin' and jumpin' the screen was making.

Deciding not to comment on the past, House merely remarked, "Don't get too close to her," further confusing the Ghoul, whom had been only waiting to deal with the man's false assumption that they were somehow friends and not this weird bullshit he was intent on shoveling on top of him.

"To Janey?" the Ghoul asked, fully turning to face the screen and confused enough to almost laugh hysterically. "I'm her father."

"No..." House replied. "It's too late for that...to Lucy MacLean."

Oh great, Cooper had groaned in pure aggravation: the autocrat had now become so lonely runnin' Vegas he'd upped and decided to be jealous and possessive of him as well. Like it was some big honor to be the object of affection for a giant talking head.

Unfortunately for that inflated head, he wasn't interested at all.

"Better her than you, partner," Cooper had turned him down, swatting the adulation away like it weren't more than a horse fly. "I ain't exactly flattered by your concern either, so if'n you don't mind..."

"I'm not thinking about your wellbeing, not this time, Coop," House stated, before nauseatingly adding, "Although, just like always, I value our friendship, for what it is worth."

"I reckon a small stack of white chips."

House, as always, conveniently ignored the insult. "Rather, I am concerned for the young lady you came here with."

"Lucy? You're worried 'bout Lucy?" then the Ghoul had been the one filling the role of the territorial, jealous one, his hands forming fists inside of his gloves as he fumed over the megalomaniac's interest in the inexperienced Vault dweller. "If'n your thinkin' of making her into one of your scanned lil, starlet darlins..."

"Calm yourself Howard...my interest is merely for her welfare, nothing else. You must be the first to admit, men like us...we have a way of hurting those around us."

Cooper Howard had felt incredibly sick at the words, partially agreeing with the man's statement and hating it all at once. He thought about hurtling back the question of whom House had ever allowed himself to get close to, but decided against it, believing still that this was all a part of the new plan his past aquaintance was plotting to help kill the endless amount of time he'd essentially confined himself to. Cooper Howard wondered if he'd have fared better as a tree growing up somewhere to be worshipped by a group of people whom didn't know any better, but decided it would have been worse: House was a city boy through and through. Nature woulda killed him.

"You wanted to talk to me alone just to tell me that?" was all he'd asked back, balking at how arrogant the man was that he could state the obvious as if it wasn't something he hadn't already figured out for himself.

"Mostly..."

"Good. Then we're 'bout finished until the morning," the Ghoul had remarked, trying to bow out of the conversation again, and being just about as successful.

"One last thing...if you don't mind," House had hurriedly intervened, delaying the departure. "I wanted to ask you if my screen looked properly cleaned to you. I don't think that Jane has done it thoroughly."

That had almost been the end all between them.

Of all the stupid, pointless and vain questions House could have ever asked of him, obsessing over the state of the screen he was hiding behind was it. Cooper Howard had actually been drawing his hand cannon, examining the screen, not for smudges or blemishes, but for where to start firing into it, when he had noticed Hank's absence from out of the corner of his eye.

"Where's MacLean?" he had asked.

"Which one?" Robert House had inquired casually, beggin' for a bullet even more.

That was when the he'd hightailed it out of there, the Ghoul remembered and ultimately overreacted when he'd thought Hank was pestering Lucy.

"Dumbass jerk," Howard said more to himself then to the memory of Henry MacLean. "Imagine you thinkin' you could come to her rescue. Who did you think that you were...her Cooper Howard?"

Now lying on his back and painfully aware that Lucy was just across the hall from him and his aching, needful body, the words House had said came back to him like a prophecy. "Men like us...we have a way of hurting those around us."

Without the man's irritating, smirking, moutached head generated into a giant before him, the warning sank in a little easier, like a pill taken with a spoonful of acid instead of sugar.

Even if House was making up for the decades spent not bein' a burr beneath his saddle, the man had a point.

The man named Cooper Howard had wound up hurting everyone around him, a character trait carried on in a freakish cowboy they'd wound up calling The Ghoul

Why, because of him, Janey hadn't almost made it to safety when the bombs went off and many a man had lost his children thereafter.

Least, House had been here, mostly prepared and defendin' the city he loved like his own offspring.

What had he done, Cooper Howard and the Ghoul both wondered?

What would they end up doing to Lucy by the time this was all over?

Were they any better than Hank MacLean when the chips were all down?

"The way the mind runs, always did hate spendin' the night alone," the Ghoul complained as he turned over, neglecting the fact that Dogmeat was there, as well as the ghost of the man he used to be, whom never really left him.

Chapter Text

Hank couldn't get that old song, "What a Difference a Day Makes" out of his head as he welcomed another morning spent in New Vegas.

There was no grand breakfast waiting for him now, nor had he gone to dreamland after a nice, relaxing massage from the securitron named Jane.

Instead, he had awakened with a horrible kink in his back, and having suffered throughout the night with repeatedly thinking he heard Cooper Howard sneaking into his room to try to kill him, or having dreams where the cowboy ravaged his sweet, innocent daughter right before his eyes. It had been centuries since he'd been to a psychiatrist, but Henry didn't really need a shrink to tell him what that was all about.

Heading to House's main room of operation, having to suffice with what he'd managed to scrounge up in the fridge (which hadn't been replenished, by the way), he had no real hope of the day improving either.

To his horror, he found Lucy and the Ghoul already waiting at the top of the stairs, ready to descend and talk with House when they finally received the summons. The way their heads were so close together, he, at first, feared that his nightmares were about to come true and the two would be actually kissing, but as he came closer, the worried father discovered, with relief, that they were merely talking, though about what or whom, they alone knew.

Dogmeat had made herself at home by the Ghoul's boots, and she, at least, offered him a kind look after he'd caught her attention, as opposed to the other two members of her posse. Hank smiled at her and waved without even meaning too. The early days of his time at Vault-Tec rushed back to him then, his introduction to Bud Askins and his eventual working for Barb. He had always wanted people to like him, been too eager for their acceptance and love, an impossible habit which had started, he supposed, with his complicated relationship to his mother, a woman whom had only spared her love to him in those few occasions when he had greatly pleased her with some highly respectable accomplishment.

Maybe that was why Rose's rejection had stung so badly and gone straight to his heart. It was the original wound tore right open all over again, but in the opposite direction, for his wife had never placed any value on rank or position.

If he desired unconditional love, Hank mused painfully, perhaps he should have spared everybody the pain and just gotten a dog.

Lucy and Howard finally looked up as he approached them, parting in that guilty way that implied their closeness had been more about the desire for it than the necessity to be heard. Hank hated how he processed the feeling, and their look, as his being an outsider to them and thus instantly transformed it into his jealousy.

He hadn't felt jealous when he'd given Lucy away to Monty, a man whom had turned out to be a duplicitois bastard intent on destroying all their lives and everything they had strived for. So why was he so upset seeing how close his precious baby had become to the Ghoul? There had once been a time when he would have entrusted every life on the planet under Cooper Howard's care. Now he was worrying for Lucy's safety every second she continued to dally with the cowboy.

Maybe he could reason away that it was because Howard had become a flesh eating ghoul but it ran deeper than that, he feared, running, infact, straight back to the same psychartrist's couch..

Cooper Howard and he were closer in age than Lucy was to her new ghoulish companion. Hank couldn't help but see Lucy's devotion to the other man as some sort of personal slight against him, that he had been replaced by another man in the father figure department, one she was also obviously attracted to and had been since her childhood.

Maybe the jealousy had first blossomed then, if he could be honest with himself. It was difficult sharing the role of hero inside of his daughter's eyes. Now, however, with how Lucy was still looking at him, her own flesh and blood dad, with a mixture of apprehension and confusion, Hank MacLean knew Howard no longer had to share that role in the girl's eyes: it belonged to him alone.

"Good morning," Henry attempted to greet cheerfully, assuming a diplomatic approach to things.

Lucy returned the words so low that there hadn't been a hearing aid made by Vault-Tec which would be able to detect them, while Cooper Howard had stared him down like a snake he intended to decimate later with his hand cannon.

"If'n your aiming to use that sweet talkin executive bullshit on me, MacLean you'd better get ready to kiss your own butt when I shove your lyin' lips so far down your fuckin' throat they meet your filthy asshole."

"Cooper," Lucy moaned and Hank didn't know what was worse, the Ghoul's threat or seeing how the man reacted so overwhelmed by emotion to Lucy actually using his real name.

"Jeez, you're all up," Jane exclaimed, having found them all waiting and gathered together talking. Their actual words didn't seem to register with her or maybe she was just choosing to ignore them. "Glad to see you've smoothed out your problems," she added and Hank decided definitely on the latter.

"Just take us to that damn robot fucker House," the Ghoul demanded.

"Sure thing, sweetie," Jane replied and quickly led the way, not understanding the insult of the words to her either.

For the second time, Hank entered Robert House's office to be welcomed by the sight of the autocrat's screen being thoroughly scrubbed. While yesterday it had been his female securitron doing the "honors", now it was Victor, whom seemed a little awkward and out of sorts taking care of what equaled to his boss' personal hygiene. Apparently, House had become obsessed with his appearance, having no public image now but an overly large screen. Hank took it to be the exchange he had been forced to make when forsaking his usual expensive suits.

Dogmeat trotted past the three humans to investigate the act a little closer, sniffing all the way, and Henry scowled, well aware that House probably would not appreciate the canine's interest. "Here girl," he called out, causing her to turn her head and look at him, avoiding an incident where House reprimanded her more harshly.

"Get over here Dogmeat!" Cooper Howard called out almost possessively and the dog went dutifully back to his side. Howard glared at him once she was sitting back at his heel, leaving Hank to feel that, not only were they in competition for Lucy, but for the dog now as well.

Dogmeat, Henry thought and pouted. He'd still have to get used to that name.

Victor rolling away from his own master's screen without any comment or as much as a "Later boss", House saw fit to ignore him completely, choosing to address his visitors alone and not his seen-everyday employee. It must be murder to work for Robert House, Hank thought and then shuddered.

"I trust that each of your stay at the Lucky 38 was pleasant," House finally addressed them, acknowledging their presence.

"Yes," Lucy rushed forward to say, while the two men in her company hesitated. From the dark circles underneath her eyes, however, her father surmised that she hadn't slept more than an hour or two during the whole night. Still, ever the gracious guest, the girl replied, "It was wonderful. Thank you."

"Breakfast was good," Cooper Howard commented, stroking his stomach and throwing a sideways look in his enemy's direction. The fiend had, no doubt, realized that his own first meal of the day had been overwhelming, Hank gathered, and was enjoying rubbing his nose in it. At least he still had a nose, he vainly tried to comfort himself, but how Cooper Howard knew his current hungry state, either from his prediction of House's moves or from outright spying on him, Hank didn't want to know. The thought of the Ghoul lurking anywhere around him was deeply unsettling.

"I am satisfied to hear it," House stated. "Business is always better settled when all parties have properly rested."

Everyone's eyes darting between each other, they all were probably sharing the same thought: The genius clearly needed his camera's lens cleaned more than his screen if he truly believed, from the look of them all, at least, that any of his guests had gotten a good night's rest.

"On the other hand, while you were taking the night to refresh," House continued, "I have used the time to consider the particular dilemma facing me...I am assuming, Cooper, that you have come expecting me to hand MacLean over to you or to somehow pressure him into giving you the information you desire?"

"You got that right," Howard replied with a tilt of his head.

"Unfortunately, he has approached me with the tease of information I need as well. Regardless, I believe, if necessary, I could find a way to extract the information we both need from him with or without his consent."

Hank wasn't even aware he had started to sweat until a bead or two rolled into his eye, making House look like he was suddenly submerged in a tank and obstructing the fact that Lucy had turned reflexively to look in his direction.

"I have no love for Henry MacLean, myself, and with the fate he remorselessly delivered to my main source of commerce, Shady Sands, I would delight in handing him over to what remains of Caesar's legion to turn into one of their attractive little touristy scarecrows."

Hank was rubbing his eyes, only having cleared them in time for Lucy to have successfully turned her head away once more to stare at the floor, her back turned to him and her glance having gone completely unnoticed.

"There is, however, an insurmountable problem with that," House lamented.

"And what the hell would that be?" the Ghoul testily spat back, his gloating interrupted.

"By the rules I personally instated in New Vegas, I am forbidden to utilize such severe methods."

Hank felt his shoulders relaxing as the Ghoul mumbled the word shit beneath his breath.

"By the laws of the city, I am forced to equally consider Henry MacLean's case, particularly the factor that he reached the city and sought sanctuary here before either you or Miss MacLean."

"House," Cooper Howard interjected rashly, his temper burning as much as the desert sands outside. "You don't expect me to swallow that, now do you?"

"I rebuilt the city of Vegas on the fair practice of letting all those whom came here freely live out their existences, without my interference, depending on their loyalty to me. Knowing what you crave from MacLean, it seems more than likely that he would choose to remain here longer than you would. Still, I value our friendship enough to openly seek another option to better help serve you, if not turn things directly in your favor."

"Spill yer wiry guts, you fossilized fart."

"I have found a clause in keeping with New Vegas, one which will allow the city itself to ultimately decide whomever the winner will be."

"How?" Hank asked both relieved and suddenly terrified.

"Here, in New Vegas, we place great value in the wise discernment of Lady Luck. It was in her honor that Vault 21 was created and maintained, and it served it well during its existence, while other vaults de-evolved into states of barbarism or complete annhiliation, it remained functional and civilized, as I both predicted and tested. Likewise, after my awakening, I have entrusted most of New Vegas to three families in the same spirit, each of whom manage casinos I leave more or less left completely under their control and supervision. It is my intent for these three families, the Chairmen, the Omertas and the White Glove Society to each host a tournament of their choosing, where you, Cooper Howard, and you, Henry MacLean, will play against each other in the games of their choosings. By the end of your visit to the third casino, the gambler with the most bottle caps will be declared the winner and then allowed to decide the ultimate fate of the loser...luck having no say in the decision following that point."

It was hard to tell how the Ghoul accepted the declaration, nothing given away by the way that he stood there now silently, and which did not change, not even by a breath. Lucy was looking more worried, confused possibly since she knew very little of New Vegas or its workings. Her gaze bounced between both men, kindness and concern in her orblike hazel eyes. Meanwhile, Hank felt both condemned and saved, luck never having been wholly his ally and yet possibly more seductable into warming to him than the cowboy with a grudge ever would.

"Meanwhile, to keep things civil within this building, and my own atmosphere more sufferable, I intend to allow Mr. Howard and his companion, Lucy MacLean, to stay within the Lucky 38's walls, while I must insist that you, Hank MacLean, find other lodgings within the city of New Vegas."

Now Howard was blatantly gloating, eagerly displaying his elation, while smugly smiling in his direction and returning a feeling of defeat to Hank, whom saw Lucy trying not to look at him again.

"Now that's a reeeeaaalll shame, Hank," the Ghoul drawled. "Don't let the doors split you in two on the way out."

House ignored the remark, continuing on unabated. "I assure you, there are several comfortable hotels to be found. You might find yourself most at home inside of Vault 21 itself, the surrounding being somewhat familiar. The proprietress, a woman named Sarah Weintraub is more than reasonable and helped convince me to turn part of the vault into a hotel for travelers while I filled the lower levels in with concrete."

Hank swallowed heavily, the last statement answering a question he had long harboured and probably intended mostly for his own benefit.

"I will make arrangements with the three families. They will decide the time and days, plus, as already mentioned, the games. They will either take the news well, seeing it as a draw for business, or view it as an unnecessary inconvenience. I suggest that in the meantime you all experience what New Vegas has to offer, which I assure you, despite our more recent tribulations, the joys of which have not been completely depleted."

The screen flipped again, but nobody really noticed it, it being the first and only time it had happened since the meeting had begun, and everyone's thoughts mostly on what had just happened and how it related to them and not House. If Hank had been making note of this, he might have connected it to an invaluable thing Barb Howard had once taught him. "The greatest way to appeal to a customer is always in how it affects them, Hank. Show them how they will react to the product, how it will make their lives easier, how they will have more time to do what they really want to."

That, of course, had been right before she had given him a stack of her family's clothing to tend to before heading off to have a picnic with her husband and daughter.

Now, though, Hank was too terrified by that same husband, currently without a nose and the nice epidermis he had once possessed when he had gone out picnicking, to think much of anything besides the question of if he would make it out of New Vegas alive or not.

Now the three sole humans in the 38 were all tentatively heading towards the doorway, each on their way to either loiter around House's headquarters or take his advice and explore the city, the Ghoul and Lucy falling in together like standing beside each other was the only place they really longed to be in the whole world, while Hank looked on in regret that he was excluded, when House suddenly halted all three, including Dogmeat whom had been following along contentedly, with an unexpected and unwanted request.

"Miss MacLean...if you wouldn't mind, I would like several minutes of your time."

Hank felt his heart stop at the words, his eyes darting to Lucy in concern, only to see the Ghoul doing the same. Both men stopped and momentarily glanced at one another, realizing that they were, for once, on the very same page in the universe, both of them worried over why House wanted to speak to the young woman they both cared for, but whom was still somewhat out of her element when it came to all matters and things above ground.

Lucy seemed to share only a quarter of their worry. For Hank, it had been hard not to notice the curiosity always partially burning in his daughter's eyes, ever since she had stepped into Moldaver's Observatory. She hadn't changed much since her youth really. She'd always been both impressionable and in possession of an adventurer's spirit. He wondered what she had thought when she'd first stepped out of Vault 33? Was it horror or wonder that had awaited her? Part of him died a little realizing that he had not been there by her side when she'd began her quest.

Or been there when Rose had taken her to Shady Springs too, for that matter.

He could almost curse Vault-Tec, if he wasn't still half devoted to the company. What was that song they used to sing again, the one his mother had adored and laughed at? 

Ah...yes...

"You load 16 tons, what do you get?
Another day older and deeper in debt
St. Peter, don't you call me 'cause I can't go
I owe my soul to the company store..."

Wouldn't his mother be proud, that he still remembered the lyrics and lived by them too, so many decades later?

Perhaps. She had been so damned to please afterall.

And probably never as proud as Rose MacLean would have been of her own daughter, as the bright eyed girl bravely stepped closer towards the screen bearing Robert House's looming image, and after a reassuring look thrown at Cooper Howard and not her father, replied to the man with a friendly and chipper smile, "Okey Dokey."

Chapter Text

Although she would never actually admit it out loud, not to a single, solitary soul, not even Dogmeat's or herself's, Lucy was more than just a tiny bit grateful when House had called her name and requested she stay behind, leaving her father and the Ghoul to exit on their own.

The moments preceding the unexpected request had been more than a little uncomfortable for her, something she believed both men had failed in noticing. There had even been a few moments there when she hadn't quite known if she was altogether prepared for what she'd somehow gotten herself into after leaving the vault.

Sure there had been giant fish anthromorphs trying to swallow her whole to deal with, or accented robots called Snip Snip planning on harvesting her organs for retail, why there had even been an opportunity presented for her to live out the rest of her life with an actual, real-live knight inside of a vault filled with various humans possessing more or less the usual amount of body parts, but none of the events had actually made her question if maybe, just maybe, she should have stayed inside of her known Vault 33, sharing the old comfortable barbs with Norm and deflecting Chet's puppy love eyes and meek advances until some other emergency popped up, like a busted water valve or a food shortage or poisoning.

Nothing could top being literally stuck between the two men whom had meant the most to her within her limited lifetime.

There was her dad on one side, whom, though it had been laced with one overwhelming and painful deception, had still spent over twenty years actually being there for her. Hank MacLean had been the one to comfort her whenever she had been frightened, confused or sad and it was difficult to just sweep that under the rug, though, she certainly wished that she could, knowing that a great percentage of that sadness had essentially been his fault.

He had still been her dad.

Whatever Moldaver had told her in the observatory couldn't just wipe that away.

Then there was the Ghoul.

Her beloved Cooper Howard, wrapped in a cowboy boogeyman's coat all along.

Though he had given her a bad case of the heebie jeebies at the beginning of their introduction, mostly because he'd blown a man's leg clear off infront of her more than his actual outward physical appearance, and had cut off her finger, as well as generally mistreating her, he'd spent the next few days being, in his own way, kind. Sure, thinking back on those days, she easily remembered how she believed him to be cruel and, at times, verging on intolerable, yet, now, realizing what must have happened to him, what he must have witnessed in the course of 200 years, it was difficult not to see where he was coming from and to offer him her unabated sympathy, understanding and forgiveness because of it.

So seeing both men, the Ghoul and her father delighting in each other's misery was exceedingly tough for the tender hearted Vault Dweller. She was quite torn now, feeling like she was lost in a tug of war between her past and her future, one sort of love coexisting between that of a drastically different kind.

Lucy MacLean realized that she had gotten herself into quite a little pickle.

An even bigger one than her dead husband Monty had found himself quite literally in.

So it had been with a great deal of gratitude and relief, that she heard her dad and the Ghoul leaving the room, while she was left alone with Robert House, a man whom she had no real feelings for whatsoever.

Apathy.

Ahhhhhh...

After so many days spent in emotional turmoil, all she could think of was, yay!

"I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me, Miss MacLean," House rather politely began, startling the girl whom had expected him to be all business. "I can assure you, I understand the predicament that you have been placed in and if I could make it any easier for you, I most certainly would."

It probably wasn't the time for anything that resembled a joke, but Lucy bravely ventured forth with a remark which was mostly serious. "Um...I guess, you couldn't get my dad and Cooper to actually suffer one another for a little while, huh?"

House replied, instantaneously, showcasing his usual blunt rationalism, "That would be difficult, especially when our cowboy's intent is to most certainly make your father suffer, and to do it in, what I would guess, would be the most painful of ways. Perhaps you would hold more sway than I would in that regard..."

"I don't think so," Lucy frowned. "I'm...I'm not even sure what I want to happen to my dad, to be honest," she confessed and then shook her head, disrupting her train of thought and hopefully derailing it too. "But that's not really what you wanted to talk to me about...is it?"

"No, it isn't."

Lucy sighed in relief, feeling her shoulders relax and wondering if the man would notice that to, wherever he was watching from.

For possibly the first time, she wondered where House was inside of the 38. Before her dad had interrupted them, causing that horrible moment of awkwardness, Cooper had been telling her that House's body was stored in some kind of stasis somewhere inside of the building. Trying to avoid thinking of what kind of cyrochamber it was that had kept her own dad alive for so long, she'd been concentrating on the Ghoul's face then, on how close it was to hers, how if she had just been brave enough to she could have closed the distance between them and actually stolen a kiss...

That had been around the time her dad had decided to show up. In retrospect, she guessed it was amazing he hadn't gotten there first, early riser that he was. At the time, she only remembered the thought, "Think of the devil" crossing her mind and how the interruption was just another strike against him Hank MacLean would probably never know of.

"I'm glad about that," she said more cheerily now to the giant face of a virtual stranger. "I didn't think so, but you can never be too sure."

"You are as bright as you are beautiful, Lucy...if I might call you Lucy."

The young woman blushed, not just at the complimemt but out of bashful confusion over what her answer should be. Cooper Howard wasn't overtly fond of Robert House, she'd gathered that much. However, if his reaction when the man had thrown her father out of the 38 had been any indication, he wasn't above using him for anything he could directly benefit from. Would the Ghoul approve of her letting House use her first name though? Would he even tolerate her being her usual courteous, vault-dwelling self to the giant head on the screen?

If she could have let out a tiny scream of frustration, she would have.

Why was she acting like the Ghoul was either her husband or another father to her? It was frustrating and didn't make any sense! Not when the cowboy had gone clear across the hallway instead of contemplating, in any way, shape or form, the option of wherher or not they should actually share a room. Even for companionship. Besides, he had a family he was looking for, and which everything which motivated him seemingly revolved around. She was probably just being silly thinking that he'd care one way or another if House started calling her Lucy.

"Lucy, yep, that's my name...might as well use it," she stumbled in resolve, offering the head on the screen an inconfident little smile.

"Good that matter's settled then," he replied and Lucy was pretty positive the man was grateful he could stop using the name "MacLean" in any way that could be construed as positive.

It reminded her of when the Ghoul had heard it when he'd been trying to make ass jerky out of Roger's butt.

Her eyes focused a little more on Robert House's image, stagnant as it ever was. Speaking of being reminded...the guy sure was reminding her of someone else still too. She just couldn't place it.

"There is another subject left, however, one which needs to be broached if we are to continue on with our discussion," House continued. "Though we are both friends of Cooper Howard..."

"You really think we're friends?" she asked, happy to hear it after the depressing downswing in her thoughts in regards to how the Ghoul viewed her.

"Though we are both friends of Cooper Howard," House repeated in annoyance without answering the question, and Lucy lowered her gaze in embarrassment. "I believe this is a matter that he need not know about. It doesn't concern him, in any case, neither will it put you at risk, which would be the primary concern to him when it involves any interaction occurring between us."

She was so close to saying the word "Really?" again that it wasn't even funny.

But if House, whom was very much familiar with Cooper Howard, thought that the Ghoul cared for her wellbeing that much that had to mean something right?

Of course, the man also believed that he and Howard were friends so that wasn't saying too much...

"What I am asking, in my round about way, is that you keep what I have to say between us. I don't expect you to outright lie, nor do I suppose that Howard, with his infamous temper, will let you stay silent. However, I will calculate what you will tell him, making it both something he will believe and something that is invariably true, all while entrusting you with the real favor I will humbly ask you to perform."

"You want me to do a favor for you?" Lucy asked.

"Yes."

"What kind of a favor?" she asked, her eyes narrowing, and more than a little bit worried.

The screen flipped a few times and then stayed still, repeating the pattern, at least, once before House bothered to answer her question. "After New Vegas was attacked, I have experienced...problems. It would seem that one of the Deathclaws, which attacked the city, somehow compromised one of my circuits or perchance the wiring somewhere inside of the 38. I have had Jane and Victor both search for the problem, to no avail. I am starting to believe that their nature makes it impossible to handle the task with the proper level of sensitivity."

Jane's distress from the previous night came rushing back to Lucy along with the securitron's words: "Like me and Mr. House used to, in the biblical sense, or more like the virtual reality sense. Course that was...sniff...before..."

Suddenly it made things a little clearer, if still uncomfortable.

Robert House was suffering from technical difficulties.

"You need a human to help you out," Lucy stated, believing that the man never admitted to that need easily. He preferred robots to human beings, she was guessing, given his current state and how he chose to run his city.

"Correct. It is also important that I have someone helping me that I can trust. That always proves unreliable when it comes to our species. Ask a man named Benny, if you think me paranoid."

Ignoring that particular quest, believing she already had too many listed on her Pip-Boy to deal with, Lucy thought it over, and voiced her initial reaction, "First, I'm flattered that you trust me, Robert."

"Bert."

She remembered the Ghoul's words from yesterday and decided that maybe it was best to just forgo using a name altogether. "I'm flattered that you trust me that much. Thank you."

No reply was forthcoming, so she just kept right on going anyway.

"But, really, my brother was better at stuff like that."

"Perhaps, but I'm assuming your brother is not here."

"Right," she replied and cringed, still hesitant to accept the autocrat's mission. "Can't you locate the source though? I mean, if you can handle running New Vegas, certainly you can find out where the problem is and then maybe reroute things or have someone else fix it...Maybe that Sarah you mentioned earlier?"

The screen flipped, this time not only verically but diagonally too. "I have run several diagnostics with little success," House answered, obviously a little more irritated. "Don't you think that would have been my first course of action? Have you really been so shaped by that vault you've been buried in, that you assume I would be so similarly naive?"

Wounded, Lucy flinched, as if he had physically struck her.

"I am sorry...I am so sorry," Robert House apologized.

Lucy instinctively believed that the apology was as uncommon for him as the confession that he needed human aid.

"It's okay," she replied. "She who forgives little, loves little."

"Thank you," House responded. "You...you know you remind me of someone."

Was he actually shy, somewhere in between all of his coldness and the screen flipping again, Lucy pondered? Did he have a heart?

You actually remind me of someone too she wanted to say, but bit her tongue. "I hope it is someone good," she said instead, a little nervously.

"Yes. Perhaps that is why I trust you...more than I could trust Sarah or some other native of New Vegas."

Maybe the sad admission that he had helped build a city with nobody he actually trusted was what motivated Lucy into her next reply.

Or maybe it was just to get his dumb screen to stop jumping so her eyes wouldn't hurt so badly.

Whatever it was, Lucy MacLean half shocked herself when she opened her mouth and the next words to come out of it were, "Yes, I will help you get unbroken."

"Good. Good," Robert House replied, his screen coming to a static stop. "I will get Victor to provide you with a new Pip-Boy, an updated one. We can converse that way, and hopefully without Cooper being the wiser."

Though she believed it would be nigh well impossible for anything to slip by the Ghoul's notice, Lucy kept her mouth shut.

"In the meantime, I have one more favor to request, if you possess the time and willingness."

"Sure," Lucy said, clasping her hands together. "Shoot."

"I believe that Victor left the bucket and sponge over there in the corner..." Mr. House remarked. "If you wouldn't mind, could you possibly give my screen another washing? I do believe that both Jane and he have missed a spot."

Squinting her eyes, Lucy failed to see what House was talking about, his screen seemingly immaculate. Still, she had nothing better to do while she waited, and was in no particular hurry to leave the room and resume her position as the rope that her father and the man she was possibly falling in love with intended to use in their own personal game of "Tug of War". Like a dutiful little cleaning woman, she walked towards the bucket and answered his query by getting straight to work, wiping him clean for a second time.

"Good," House answered, as a patient might after the desired hit of relief following the first dose of medication. "Good."

The work seemed to do both of them good, Lucy finding her thoughts less imitating a sea at storm as she easily resumed a job she had sometimes taken care of inside of the vault, and House seeming less altogether jumpy while he was attended to. Her touch seemed to do it more than anything else, her fingers brushing his screen on occassion, or the back of them, along with her knuckles.

Sometimes her palm touched him and he virtually glowed brighter.

"That feels much better," Robert House declared, after having her scrub one spot in particular over and over again. "I feel more like my old self then I have in ages."

Lucy just smiled at him, dropping the sponge back into a bucket of water that looked as perfectly clean as it did when she first started.

Chapter Text

The Ghoul waited for Lucy outside of the Lucky 38 until around the time he started to get afraid he might look too desperate and stupid. Then, despite how much it pained him, he decided it best to take House up on his suggestion to stroll around New Vegas for a spell and see what the city had to offer and how much of it had changed since the last time he'd been there.

Best leave it up to the girl to find him after she finished with whatever business it was House wanted to speak to her about.

It better be business, Coop grumbled to himself.

Sulking down the strip with Dogmeat at his side, putting some distance between himself and the Lucky 38, and absently noticing how much the city looked like it had built itself up to a stage where it had been prepared to be properly damaged, the Ghoul reflected rather reluctantly on how he hadn't liked it much when House had infuriatingly requested Lucy stay behind, hadn't liked it at all infact. Unfortunately, arguing the fact was about as useless as trying to shoot at the stars: All he would end up doing was waste some decent ammunition if he tried to deflect the girl away from her natural born curiosity.

That was part and parcel of who she was.

He couldn't fool himself into thinking that he hadn't spurred her into it either, what with his not too discreet gloating over her daddy's lack of good fortune.

It wasn't that he was an idiot or a heartless bastard, Cooper Howard reasoned and yet still harshly chastised himself. He just hadn't been able to stop himself, not when Hank had looked so defeated.

Still, he knew that the Vaultie was probably feeling pretty torn up inside right 'bout now. She had him on one side, whom hadn't made the journey here a canned peaches and marmalade kind of picnic, but whom was still her childhood hero nonetheless. Then she had her father on the other, with all the good memories attatched to the name, sitting alongside the pain everytime she looked into his familiar face.

A face that could still probably look like a stranger's now after findin' out what he'd done.

Cooper Howard knew that feeling all too well.

He'd gone through the same twisted, messed up conflict with Barb.

The first time he'd had to look into her eyes after hearing what she'd said at that Godforsaken meeting...

How he'd had to treat her when Janey was around, all while figuring out what was the next step to take, if any...

It was all about the same piece of acting he'd had to pull off when he'd left Lucy standing in the hallway the night before.

Damn that Vault-Tec, he thought and actually growled out loud, warrenting a look of concern from the dog at his heel. Two hundred years later and they were still ruining lives, even though they'd long ago fulfilled their roles of spineless cowards by going deep underground after they'd successfully played their part in the destruction of the world.

Painfully, his mind went back to that meeting, fully remembering Robert House's own involvement in it. What had he said again? Oh yeah...

"It’s a fun idea. There’s a lot of earning potential with the end of the world. But we’re talking about making a significant investment based on a hypothetical. How can you guarantee results?"

Funny how he could remember every single fucking word spoken during that team "discussion" while he struggled with recalling a single sentence of dialogue from a film he'd rehearsed for months.

It had taken months of House trying to explain himself, and the fact that Las Vegas had survived the majority of the bombs attacks and was still left mostly standing, for the billionaire to finally convince him that he had only attended the meeting to gather information, having figured out the likelihood of an impending war in his damn algorithms and charts years before Betty Pearson had even scribbled him down in her little ledger as being able to attend it.

That was House for you: A sneaky, clever little weasel in a too expensive suit and well trimmed moustache, always playing away with his computers and electronics and trying to figure out how to run the whole fuckin' world, never realizing no such thing could be done while hidin' your life behind a screen.

Cooper still didn't know why he had partly forgiven the man or suffered him at all.

Maybe, in part, because he had the feeling that, though it hadn't been a painless one, he, Cooper Howard, had still had a life to lose before the bombs had dropped. He had loved and lived. House only had his dirty little schemes and plans and now he existed as little more than a man enslaved to them.

What the hell was House up to now anyway?

What did he want with Lucy?

There was little monetary gain in it for the bussinessman, not when he controlled New Vegas and had an ocean of bottlecaps at his disposal.

There didn't seem much to back up his reputation with either, should he win the girl's trust. Give Lucy enough time and she might go and earn her own specific handle to be known across the Wastelands by; she was that ripe with potential. But right 'bout now, only the ghouls she had freed from the Super Duper Mart were likely to be in awe of her.

What could Robert House want with a mere Vault-Dweller?

Even if she was the daughter of Henry MacLean?

Damn it.

He never could figure the man out, House's motives in no way clarified now by the amount of times he had obsessed over the cleanliness of his screen.

First he gave a lecture about staying far away from the Vaultie, because men like them were ill luck for people of her kind, then he upped and asked for a private conversation?

Was he using the time to badmouth him?

Was he plannin' on making a move on the impressionable filly himself?

The thought not only unsettled Cooper Howard but brought him close to a killing level of outright jealousy.

If'n he found out that House was planning on scanning his darlin' Lucy's brain for one of those securitrons, or askin' her to take a rest in that fabled lil coffin of his, so help him God, he would turn New Vegas in to No Vegas faster than you could say...

"Cooper Howard?"

Not the words he was exactly lookin' for but they would do.

"Coop? Hombre, is that really you?"

Not in the mood to be recognized, the voice still gave the Ghoul some hope it might not be too bad when he turned around and saw with relief who the admirer was. His lip curling without intention, he watched as an old friend, a really old friend, came hurrying over in his direction.

Having needed to backtrack, the owner of the voice now finally came to stand before Howard, Dogmeat sitting between the two and looking at them with interest. "You're a sight to make a man rip out his sore eyes," the other ghoul exclaimed in joy.

"Raul Tejada...the Ghost of Mexico City, himself," Cooper Howard drawled, staring at a ghoul in even more tattered but still formidable condition. "You're still looking bout as ugly as a pig's ass after it went and sat on a nuke. Uglier infact."

"Well," Tejada remarked, feigning friendly offense. "I didn't have it nowhere half easy as you did. Not all of us ghouls spent our time tucked away safely six feet under."

"You know, for the amount of so called friends I have who knew about my 'delicate' situation and didn't do a damn thing about it, I might fancy becoming a mass murderer to say thank you to 'em all," Cooper stated, not entirely joking.

"Come on now, like you already aren't one of those? No need to go gettin' your holster in a knot, hombre. You know we all would have come dug you up, at least I would've, but I didn't know where they had you prematurally buried. Then, 'bout the time I did, I had problems of my own to handle."

"Like what?"

"Long story...you can see some of it for yourself, lying all around us. It wasn't pretty. You got the time to 'ear it or are you in town collectin' on some bounty or somethin'?"

Howard shot a look back at the tower looming over the city and frowned. New Vegas' ruler tryin' to keep an eye on his city like he was God. Was Lucy out yet? Should he go and drag her out?

No.

That would be an intrusion and he wanted to give her space. The poor girl didn't need the two current men in her life using her like the rope in a tug of war game, especially when one hated the other and that other resembled a chicken knowing it was 'bout to lose its head all too soon.

"Sure," he answered, turning back to face Tejada. "I got me some time to kill."

"What you do best, Cooper, what you do best," Raul announced happily, slapping his friend on the back like no time had passed between the last time they'd seen each other.

The Ghoul smiled.

It was a grin closer to the ones he'd used to make when he'd solely been known as a man named Cooper Howard. And the cause of that grin was about as contrary as you could get. Afterall, it was rare these days, but he was suddenly grateful that he was a ghoul, for a change. That way, he could spend decades under the ground and still come up to greet an old friend.

The two ghouls walked down the strip together, Dogmeat joining them until she quietly slipped away, neither of the ghouls noticing her silent, unannounced departure.

* * *

"That's quite the lil story there, Raul," Howard commented after listening to the other ghoul weave his tale without a single interruption, except for the occassional demand for the waitress to refill their glasses. "The rise and then fall of New Vegas. Woulda made a hell of a picture show."

"Don't I know it, amigo. Don't I know it."

Coop's eyes moved towards the door of the building, not for the first time, and hoping more than ever now that the other ghoul had finished telling his story Lucy just might stroll in.

They had found a bar on the strip that was open at this time of the day, and then relocating to a small table at the back, they had talked about old times and more importantly newer ones, events that the only recently unearthed ghoul hadn't caught wind of while he'd been out seeking, first all of Siggi Wilzig himself and then, later, just his head.

Apparently House had finally gotten some poor sap to find the blasted chip needed to upgrade his securitrons.

Something he'd already deduced from their encounter with the rogue one in the desert.

Afterwards, House had resorted to his little tactic of subterfuge by sending multiple couriers across the Nevada trying to get the chip back to him. Course, there'd been only one with the real chip, and some guy called Benny, a guy House in his wisdom had actually trusted, had killed the poor Courier, trying to get the chip for himself. Only one reason why there: to jump claim to Vegas for himself. House had managed to resurrect the Courier, however, and after a series of those damned side missions that always reared their ugly heads, the Courier had replaced old Benny by Robert House's side. According to Raul, however, the Courier had had plenty of opportunities to put their allegiance with some other faction before making that exception.

After all this, New Vegas had settled into a golden age of autocratic rule. Unfortunately, then Shady Sands had been detonated and the Deathclaws had somehow found their nasty way en masse to New Vegas, as well. Bedlam and destruction served all the way around.

Coop had listened to it all with interest, but had also reserved a small portion of his attention for the entrance of the saloon and his continual thoughts of Lucy.

"You expecting someone?"

"What?" Cooper asked, his gloved hand grasping the top of his almost empty cup.

"The way you kept lookin' at that door, I was thinkin' you might have a date or somethin'."

"No...no date," the Ghoul said, lowering his head and hoping the brim of his hat saved him from being read. He decided to change the subject to help further save himself. "So what became of this Courier you talk so damn highly of anyway? I'm not sayin' I'd love to meet 'em, especially seein' though they sided with House, but I need all the friendly acquaintances in Vegas, I can get. Especially considerin' what's in store for me during the next few days."

He expected to be questioned over that last comment, but was surprised when none came.

It wasn't always the easiest to read another ghoul, especially with the level of decay Raul had experienced, but Howard could instantly tell that he might have crossed some line he didn't know was never meant to be crossed.

"From one old man to another, there be some things we no longer discuss here in New Vegas, vaquero," Raul Tejada replied. "Certain things that were swept under the rug to help us all survive. That is one of them. Robert House is another old man who could tell you that."

The Ghoul squinted, trying to size up the situation as he always did. "Somebody gone and stabbed someone in the back?"

"No..." Raul replied. "It would be better that way, tal vez."

The two gunslingers held one another's gaze until the waitress came around their way again, eyeing them both with a certain level of fear.

"Mujer joven, fill these up again, I think a toast has been long in order!" Raul suddenly declared and the waitress eagerly acquiesced, hoping it would get her back to the bar all the faster.

Cooper watched his glass being replenished, then watched as the woman ran away. When he turned back, it was to see his old friend raising his glass high in the air. "To the Courier!" Raul Tejada declared. "The person who got me into the 38 and the best damn boss and compañer I have ever had, 'cept for current company, of course!"

That current company had raised his glass now too, but was pretty darn sure the sound of glass filling the bar at the time wasn't from that action but from the waitress instead, breaking the pitcher behind them after overhearing the toast.

Though he hated toasting to anyone he'd never met personally, Raul's opinion being good enough recommendation for him, Cooper Howard solemnly echoed,  "To the Courier!"

"Quit that talk!" the bartender snapped from behind the bar. "You want one of House's securitrons to hear you and roll in here?"

The warning went ignored as the Ghost of Mexico poured the drink down his throat. The glass in Raul's hand was empty before it returned to the table, the man wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

When the other ghoul looked at him again, Cooper Howard was certain there were tears in his eyes. "Look at you," he commented. "Still ever the vaquero. I still desearía por Dios that Rafaela could see you...I promised her vaqueros, you know?"

"I know," the Ghoul replied, having heard that particular sad tale long ago. His hand impulsively went to his friend's shoulder. "I know."

Raul lowered his head, overcome with his own personal sadness.

"Hey."

Recognizing the sound of another voice he didn't mind hearing, Cooper instantly looked up to find Lucy MacLean standing at their table, ironically having come in without his having noticed it.

"Hey," Cooper Howard repeated, rising to his feet to greet her.

"So you did have a date," Raul Tejada commented, commandeering his friend's now forgotten glass to drown his sorrows in.

"How'd you find me?" the Ghoul asked, amazed at the young woman's ingenuity.

"You know I'd always find you, Cooper Howard," Lucy answered, some unplaceable emotion glowing inside of her amazing hazel eyes.

His heart caught their warmth and honestly felt like it was burning too.

Before it could turn into an outright bonfire, however, the dreamy look on her face was exchanged for something more cheerful and jokey.

"All I'd have to do is follow the trail of frightened, haunted stares and dismembered body parts," she added perkily.

The Ghoul didn't know then if he wanted to kiss the Vaultie or kill her.

Suddenly a sound roared deafeningly throughout the bar, almost as violent as the last considered action, but far more harmless. Raul Tejada was almost killing himself laughing, close to falling off of his chair from the wild outburst. "Oh, That's a good one, senorita! That is about the best I ever heard!"

The Ghoul looked over his shoulder at Raul, and seeing that Lucy MacLean had magically been able to transform the man's tears of grief into those of laughter, he guessed he could forgive her impunity.

Infact, he could admit to himself that it was mighty hard not to drape her across the top of the table, where Raul was still suffering his big old belly laugh, and blatantly show her his gratitude.

Lucy was smiling brightly now, no worse for wear after her little talk with House, and Cooper was guessing it hadn't been too bad for her, when she suddenly started to look around the bar, her expression changing instantly to one of confusion and concern

"Where's Dogmeat?" she inquired.

His eyes instantly sweeping the bar, a feeling of failure similarly sweeping over his conscience, the Ghoul knew then that the Vaultie was more on the ball then he had been: Siggi Wilzig's canine was nowhere to be seen and he hadn't noticed it at all until she had pointed it out.

Chapter Text

She had left the woman they called Lucy to graze with the large man wall, feeling the human would be safe there, as she had seemingly been looked after all night without any certain danger.

The man possessing the two names, Ghoul and CooperHoward, had gone off with the one resembling himself, and knowing he had found a friend, from the way both men had smiled, she had been content to leave him to pasture.

Now she was on her way to find the other one, the man they called Hank, to make sure that he was similarly settled inside of the land they called Noo Vagas too.

Ever since she had first seen him, she had known that he was the one Lucy would call father. She could smell the relation of scent from each, could trace it in their features, and in those small hard to explain aspects that often went unobserved by human beings but which animals could usually detect instantly.

That connection had made him inevitably a part of their herd, although she had sensed then too the reluctance from the other half of it to eagerly accept him back into the fold. This felt perfectly natural, but difficult to maneuver around, when things would always be easier if the sheep went where they were supposed to, instead of insisting on butting horns.

They all needed looking after.

They all were so hopelessly human, afterall, just another form of sheep.

And now they were exposed to even more humans.

It was a very large land they had come to.

There were so many others and they were not a part of the herd.

It did not make them enemies, but it made her less likely to wish to protect or keep them where they ought to be, her priorities always as properly aligned as they were. Her herd was all that mattered to her and it was impossible, once they parted ways, to keep an eye on all three at once.

Worse, too, was the fact that the Hank one had become lost in amongst the other herds: the ones belonging to Noo Vagas.

Whatever had torn through the land could easily come again, she still smelled their presense everywhere, coming to her on the wind and rising up through the earth. Blood had been spilt and much of it. Though they had tried to hide it, or make it clean, they had not been able to entirely. It had seeped into the ground, into the buildings and walls, so deeply that some other sacrifice would be needed to help clean it, simply by overpowering it with fresher blood. It had always been inside her, a knowledge like instinct, to know that blood only called out for more blood.

She walked through the land, hoping today would not be the day it happened, but knowing that soon it would and hoping her herd would be out by that time.

Hank one needed to be found.

He needed not to be left alone.

She would follow him by his scent. It was how he had won her interest. Not just because of the Lucy one either.

The Hank one reminded her of the human she had lost originally from the herd.

Not Lucy one's father.

But her own.

Her own father.

First father.

The one whom had called her Girl.

She was no longer only called Girl. Now she had two names, making her akin to the meat faced man, the hunter whom had first hurt her and then made her feel better and then given her the second name, making her bond with him past the first wound and making it forgotten and forgiven by now.

She wore the new name with pride.

A second name from second father.

Dogmeat.

He had named her partly after his face.

And after first father.

First father whom was meat by now.

She was honored by the new name, honoring both fathers.

Though, when second father called the Lucy one Girl too, she became confused and wished she could tell him not to do that. First father had called her Girl. Lucy was to be Lucy and not Girl. She guessed that second father became confused sometimes. There were so many people outside of the room of the burrow, where first father had lived, she could not blame him.

And there were other gifts from second father to help make up for his forgetfulness.

Second father had even come to stay in her room with her.

Giving her some of his warmth by sleeping beside her in the bed the man wall had given for her to use.

How thoughtful a human he was.

So unlike the second hunter he had been.

First father had given her her own room, but had never stayed with her.

First father had always been too afraid.

Fear.

That was the scent that the Lucy one's father shared with first father.

It was how each man reminded her of the other until she had been willing to accept Hank one into the herd, while Lucy one and second father were not at all willing to.

She had loved first father.

Hank one was like first father.

Hank one was always nervous.

It was a scent that came off of him and was comfortably familiar from her infant days under first father's care.

First father had been nervous too.

That was the scent he had given off.

She could remember first father when they had played together, always looking over his shoulder as if waiting for someone to come join them but not wanting them to. She had thought first that he wanted her all to himself to play with, but then her senses had grown older and instinct had been remembered, a nature any of man's war could not make forgotten. The smell of nerves had come off from him, the same smell her ancestors had smelled while the rabbits had crouched in their burrows, their muscles ready for flight, waiting in dread for the hunters to come or long muzzles and sharp teeth to come pushing in, snapping through the dirt at them.

First father was a rabbit not a sheep.

The building was his hole.

And one day the first hunter had shown himself.

Going against her ancestors, she had protected the rabbit from him, in a reversal of the nature of her species.

For in the beginning, first father's fear had mingled with the kindess he had shown and she would be loyal to him until she had failed him by leaving him and first father had similarly abandoned her with his leaving too.

She would always remember him though.

Their small herd of two.

It had only been them at the start.

No hunters. No other rabbits. No other hers.

Two always alone.

At times, before the first hunter intruded, and ignoring the distant sounds and voices first father did not want her to hear, she could almost believe it was only her and first father living in his burrow.

And she had liked it that way.

Before first father's fear had become realized.

And room and burrow had been fled.

Then there were others.

At times, too many others.

Now there were too many people.

She found herself suffering the larger numbers but preferring smaller herds.

Like her own.

First two.

And then three.

And now four, if you did not count wall man, whom stayed in place and did not need shepherding.

Yes. It was better to her that there not be so many.

Two would always be comfortable because it was so familiar.

Three was interesting because it allowed for her to watch how the humans behaved with each other.

Four created a herd for her to aim to keep in line or, at least, keep her watch over.

It also lessened the chance of there ever being one.

One.

One would always be far too few.

One was painful.

One was being left on your own, behind a wall or inside of a box.

She didn't like anybody being on their own.

That was how she had been when the man with the meat foot had stuffed her inside of the small metal box in the lonesome, cold place.

Of course, the friend of the man with the delicious toes had been stuck inside of a metal box too, so maybe it was a deep sign of herdship for the two.

It was hard to tell with humans.

If it was, she was grateful to have left that herd.

It had been frightening inside of the box.

Far more frightening than her room inside of the burrow, where first father was always sure to come.

First father would not find her stuck inside of the metal box.

First father was only a head then, one that never looked at her or spoke.

First father was becoming meat.

Becoming inside her mind only because was was too painful.

The man with the meat for a face had found her then, opening the metal box like first father had with her room inside of his burrow.

Second hunter had looked at her.

Looked at her with kindness like first father.

And he had not let her stay just one.

He had helped herd her into two.

That had been when the second hunter had become second father to her.

That was when he had taught her hunters could be part of the herd as well, not just rabbits or sheep.

That was when he had become good.

Not even when he had brought her back to life would she have thought of him as good. Only when he had shown her that meat could still live and also spared her from her loneliness.

Now Hank one was lonely.

And nobody inside of their herd cared but her.

Lucy one did not like her father. Had he abandoned her inside of a metal box?

Second father did not like Lucy one's father either. Did fathers not like other fathers? Second father had hurt first father. Then that must be true.

She was no father.

She was only Girl.

Only Dogmeat.

And she had to make sure that the herd was together.

Or, that the lost ones had company until they were found and adopted by another more welcoming herd.

Like what had happened to her when she had been inside the metal box.

When she had started to bear the scent of rabbits too.

Like first father.

Like the missing Hank one.

She would find him by the scent.

It was hard.

Each of the creatures on their two legs, gave off the scent inside the land of Noo Vagas. Some more than other, but still mostly there. She weaved in and out of the streets, smelling the scent first father had given off hanging over it like the blanket he had given her to lie on inside of her room behind the board of black. It cast a foul darkness over everything and made it almost impossible for her nose to see.

It was more difficult to find who she was looking for when everyone was a rabbit.

Suddenly, she caught the scent stronger and going down a dark space between two of the large man made boxes and saw the back of a familiar hide. Disappearing down the alley, she approached Hank one, hoping to hold fast to her watch of the lost herd member and not to lose him, as she had done with first father.

Hearing her, or anxiously sensing someone was behind him, Hank one looked over his shoulder, as if terrified that she was someone else, most probably second father, whom smelled more of the hunter whenever Hank one was around.

Fear changed to relief, not the look when first father had gotten blood on his hands, but when they had escaped from the cave following the gift of the hand she had brought him.

"Oh, it's just you," the one named Hank stated and turned to fully face her, as she came to a stop several paws away from him. "I was afraid...well, I was afraid it was...nevermind...it doesn't matter."

They stared at one another, both sets of brown eyes looking in question into the other.

Maybe, she would have tried to nuzzle him back to the tallest box in Noo Vagas, but sensed from second father's happiness while the dirty man wall had been talking, that he was not allowed back in.

One of the herd was to be separated, like when an illness struck a sheep.

And she would have to suffer it until he was better.

Finally, the Hank one crouched so their eyes were closer on level and she breathed in the air, sensing less of the fear emanating from him. When he held out his hand, it was even less than before, and she went to it, knowing from the same scent that there was no food inside of it for her but maybe a pet or two would be found. She was right, after her nose had smelt the palm and licked it, it went straight to her head and stroked it.

"I...I don't know what I'm going to do...Dogmeat. Is that what he called you?"

She met his eyes again and barked.

The sound brought a little of the rabbit's fear back again and he looked at the head of the alley as if expecting someone to accuse him of having stolen her.

She had always been stolen.

From first father stealing her from the breath of the incinerator, to second father stealing her from the threat of death, to the meat footed man and his metal friend stealing her from her solitude.

But it was a fact she was unaware of and so she only looked at the Hank one and licked his hand again, trying to steal away some of his rabbitness.

He looked calmer now as he smiled down at her, but much older too,

"Well, Dogmeat...I don't know what I am going to do. Even with House leaving the outcome to chance. Better chance than House or flat out Cooper Howard, but...still."

The Hank one let himself completely fall to one knee on the ground then, taking his hand away to hold his own head in both it and his other. She looked on with sympathy, believing he needed to pet his own fur then to help himself feel better. Eventually he moved against the wall, sitting there with his back up against it, all the strength having left him.

She knew it had been coming for a long time.

The rabbit was so very weak.

She went to sit beside him, resting her head on his leg, both of which were now laid out, his non-meat feet pointing to the sky. The top of her head became wet and she thought that those strange flakes must be falling from that same sky again, like when she had tried to eat the man whom had locked her inside of the box's fragrant foot. These were wetter, however, melted as soon as they reached her fur, and more hot than cold.

Together, they sat, in silence, and eventually the flakes stopped falling long enough for the Hank one to speak again.

"I've never been good at gambling...I always tend to lose. Even when I think I've won. I thought I won Lucy but now I see what that really was...postponing the inevitable...we all lost thanks to me."

Her head became wet again but it was okay.

She liked the alley.

It was cool.

Better than the street.

She liked Hank one's hand on her head, petting her.

"Maybe I wouldn't mind dying if Lucy would go back to looking at me like she used to...she used to love me, freely. Now, it's like it's all caged in...like I was at Moldaver's."

She liked the sound of his voice too, even though she hadn't a clue what he was saying to her.

"I can understand why she doesn't...I don't like myself much either. But...I am all I have now. Well, I guess, I have Norm but...Norm never loved me as much as Lucy did. She was always daddy's little girl...everything the advertisements for Vault-Tec promised to be...that was us."

Her eyes raised as she heard his loud swallow and thought he might be secretly eating and share whatever it was with her too. When she didn't see him chewing, her head went back down and she chastised herself for trusting her nose more than her ears.

"Norm has always been suspicious...he questions everything. Actually, thinking about it now...I wish I had been more like him...maybe none of us would be in this predicament if I had been..."

His voice faltered and choked and Dogmeat pitied him, though, if he had eaten something and not given her any, it really was all his fault.

"Or maybe we would have. It's too much of a gamble to say...and like I told you, Dogmeat, I was never any good at those."

He laughed then, a sound as dry and brittle as the land outside of Noo Vagas, and she hoped he was feeling a little bit more well.

She hated for any of the herd to be sick.

They sat in the dark place for a little while longer, the rabbit eventually drifting off to an unexpected sleep, while she was left to wonder and regret why first father had been a father whom had only let her sleep by his side once before he had gone and slept forever.

Chapter Text

Following House's meeting, for the rest of the day, Raul showed them around New Vegas and Lucy couldn't remember a better time she'd actually had in the last few weeks. Not that the traces of what had happened to the city weren't unnerving, and the suspicious, fearful glances they were thrown by the citizens somewhat distressing, or that Dogmeat's disappearance wasn't troubling, but, at least, there wasn't something trying to kill them for a change.

That was always a plus.

Raul made for a funny and personable tour guide too, one whom apparently possessed a lot of knowledge about the city and the area surrounding it.

It was also nice to have the Ghoul walking by her side, no less his moody, razor-edged, taciturn self but pleasant company nonetheless.

He was so close by her side actually, that Lucy realized, if she wanted to, she could just reach out, take his hand and then the two of them could stroll down the New Vegas strip together hand in hand.

Sigh.

Wouldn't that be great, she mused?

Her and the Ghoul walking as if they were sweethearts...

Sweethearts out on a date!

She could pretend that they were Newlyweds in New Vegas!

It was funny, but the fact that he had once been Cooper Howard was just icing on the cake. Right now, even if she hadn't known his true identity, she would have been willing to bet almost anything that she'd still have been stealing glances at his rough face, all to a warm and fuzzy feeling inside, and staring obsessively at his hand, wanting to hold it. Yes, she would have bet everything she owned, both physically back in the vault and spiritually on her, that she would have felt herself falling in love with the Ghoul.

They were in the right place for such daring bets too.

New Vegas: the place where fortunes could be made on a gamble.

Or lost on one too.

The big question really was if she willing to gamble big time right that very second and reach over and take the Ghoul's hand inside of her own?

Or were the stakes too high?

"What are you staring at?" the Ghoul's own powerful voice suddenly cut through her thoughts as she stared at his gloved hand.

"Oh, me? Staring at something?" she asked, her face turning red and not from the blaring sun either.

"Yeah," the cowboy drawled, his eyes now on Raul, but speaking out of the corner of his mouth closest to her. "You were staring at my hand."

"Was I?" her voice tried to remain steady, but sort of squeaked all the same. "You must have moved them and it caught my attention....you know, like you must have been twiddling your fingers or something."

The Ghoul actually stopped dead in his tracks.

"I was definitley not twiddling my fingers," he stated, almost offended.

"Oh, sorry," she cringed and they eventually resumed their walk, Raul oblivious as he talked about some place called the Gulch.

"And here be where most of the menfolk liked to visit first when visiting Vegas. She be where they had the infamous sign featuring Sassy Sally..."

"That's it," Lucy feigned being suddenly struck by memory (and did a pretty good job of it too, if she might say). "I was looking at your hand because of what Raul was telling us. You know, about that guy from Vault 21? Sheldon Angelo or Michael Weintraub, as his friends called him...if I didn't mix them up. How House had asked him to do all the artwork and signs around here, or rather what's left of them."

Cooper Howard laughed bitterly. "You mean, House hounded him until it drove him virtually crazy and he went and became a recluse?"

"Um...yeah that guy," Lucy said, still sensing the animosity Howard reserved for Robert House, despite the latter still believing they were friends, for some unfathomable reason. "Anyway, it's so amazing all that he did."

A few seconds of silence passed, wherein Lucy was so busy being grateful her companion hadn't inquired about what House and she had been talking about after he and Hank had left the 38, that she almost forgot what the Ghoul and she had been talking about in the first place.

"And that caused you to stare at my hand, how?" Cooper finally questioned, helping to remind her.

"Yeah. I was wondering, do you ever do anything with your hands that's creative, you know, besides using them to kill or torment people with? The pen is mighter than the sword, they always say."

She hadn't been thinking anything of the sort, of course, but it was as good of a lie as any she could think up on the spot without actually admitting she'd been thinking about them holding hands.

That was just too embarassing.

"You want to know what else I do with my fingers besides hurting innocent people like you, Vaultie?" the Ghoul queried in droll disbelief.

"Yeah," she replied, believing it was a safe enough cover.

Raul carried on pointing out different sites, relating tales and anecdotes, completely oblivious to the fact that neither of his companions were listening anymore.

The Ghoul slowly held up his hands, while their walk continued, moving his fingers in an almost dance like fashion, that almost hypnotized her. "Well, let me see...I've got about a hundred different women who can attest to the fact that the best instrument this ole cowpoke ever learned to play was the human female body. I've been able to make women hit notes, and touch parts of 'em, they never truly felt existed before I got a hold of 'em...with these very hands. And those are the ones still livin'....there's plenty more than that who went to their graves just grateful that a real man had taken care of them once in their life before death came callin' for his debts."

Lucy felt like the New Vegas streets had just unreasonably become even more unbelievably hotter.

"With these here hands, I treated their bodies like they were landscapes worth paintin more than that man, Mikey Angelo, ever did. I stroked 'em just right, adored their curves, angles and lines...I brought color to their lives, and when I upped and left 'em, like I always warned 'em about, I left my signature on their souls."

Now Lucy's own soul was longing, yearning to experience the Ghoul's handiwork.

"Well, these fingers...Why, you should've seen what they did to my own body last night, when I woke up in the middle of it and all I was thinkin' 'bout was you, lil Lucy MacLean."

The Ghoul had turned and looked her right in the eye as he confessed that last bit.

Dead serious.

Lucy gulped, feeling flustered and even more hot and dirty than she had while traversing the wastelands or on her wedding night.

A dirty little smile played at the Ghoul's lips then, as he turned his head away from her, focusing instead on the back of his old vaquero friend. To help further the wall suddenly being mockingly erected, he shoved his hands deep down inside of his duster's pockets, stealing away her view of them.

Lucy turned her own head away then too, her eyes falling to the dirt road and trying not to steal glances at the cowboy, especially since they inevitably fell to the last area he'd been alluding to on it.

Oh goodness gracious, Lucy thought...

Did Cooper really feel that way about her?

Was he being serious?

Maybe he was just paying her back in full for her trick at the bar. He wasn't the forgiving sort of fellow, afterall; she'd long ago figured that one out. But there had been something in his eyes, something that she had only wished she could have seen in either Monty or Maximus' eyes when she'd had two minor cases of puppy love over both very different men. But here was the big grandaddy of all her romantic fantasies and daydreams, the same man whom had stirred those first adult sensations inside of her youthful body, and he was actually flirting with her and talking about...about, doing that to himself while thinking about her?!?

Okay. Now she was fangirling, if that was even a word.

Even if it was all just a tease, that Cooper Howard had used the same mouth she used to imagine kissing to say something so obviously naughty to her, something the code would never allow him to even vaguely insinuate in one of his films, was a pubescent dream come true!

She could almost die on the strip and request to be buried right where he had said it.

Having gone a few feet from the exact spot, Lucy turned to look back at where that exactly was and suddenly noticed something that had gone completely over her head for the last few hours.

There were children on the New Vegas strip.

She could see them now and recall every instance when she had ignorantly passed them by without letting it bother her.

Children loitering about, children playing or keeping to themselves. Some children were with their parents, but a startling amount had been without them too, their appearances worn, poor...alone.

Her heart aching for them, and suddenly filled with an overwhelming concern, it was possibly the only thing that could have made her leave the Ghoul's side, after such a provocative discussion, in order to speed up her pace a bit so she could walk by Raul Tejada's side.

"Raul, I don't mean to interrupt you or anything," Lucy MacLean interrupted, "But why are there so many children around?"

He looked incredibly sad for a moment, heartbreakingly so, as if she had triggered long ago painful memories to surface for the man, and she instantly regretted asking it, or not having asked Howard for more of Raul's history before opening her big, fat mouth. He soon bravely pushed whatever he was remembering away so he could answer her,  though, earning her instant respect. "The Deathclaw, attack made most of 'em orphans, joven."

"And they just wander around the city?"

"Look, you might think that's harsh, and it is, but there was a time, before the Deathclaws came, when House wouldn't have even let them inside the city. They certainly wouldn't have been allowed to stay. It was a small miracle that he let 'em and the whole of Freeside cross into New Vegas."

Lucy looked around again, only absently registering that Cooper had come to walk on her other side now, as if he, too, had felt lonely and forgotten about, just like the children, when she had left him to talk to Raul instead.

"Are there no schools around here?"

"In New Vegas?" Raul actually burst out laughing as all three followed through with their trek. "You got the wrong city for that, pretty one. That sort of thing was for Shady Sands, but you can thank the bastards who blew it to pieces for putting an end to all that."

Lucy was certain her eyes became larger in guilt before she cast them back down to her feet, aware of her family's particular sad hand in that tragedy.

"Do you think House would allow one to be made? It and maybe an orphanage?" she asked, raising her head again and determined to fix her role in the whole mess by taking the necessary first steps.

"Robert House?" Cooper Howard now interjected, his skepticism clear. "Maybe if'n it was a boardin' school, one where you taught every child to be a croupier, but less there's somethin' in it personally for him, you'd have better luck plantin' a garden in hell."

"A garden once led to a hell," Lucy boldly stated in return, her head whipping instantly back to the man whom had been in New Vegas longer. "What do you think, Raul?"

The other ghoul gave it some thought before scratching the back of his head. "I would have given you a hell no before and thought you was loco, but now...Still, I don't think House is in the right frame of mind these days to give it much thought one way or the other."

Lucy bit her lip, remembering her discussion with the ruler of New Vegas only that morning. No, he certainly wasn't in prime working condition, if that was what Raul meant. Maybe it was best that she solve his mysterious little technical flaw first before approaching him for social reform of any sort.

They continued to walk, a company of three, but each was more quiet now, in contrast to when Raul had been playing vocal guide and Cooper Howard had been wonderfully flirting. Tejada had probably started to notice the stray children as well now, while the Ghoul might have been sore over her having contradicted him over House, imagining she was choosing sides. She regretted hurting both men, but knew she could more easily help soothe the feelings of the ghoul she knew better than the one she did not.

"Hey," she began to say to Cooper, noticing for the first time that the cowboy was no longer by her side.

She instantly looked behind her to see where he had been lost, only to find Cooper Howard standing in the middle of the strip only a few feet back, staring off to his right.

He looked very much like a hunting dog that had caught the scent of a rabbit.

Having seen the look a few times on the ghoul's face already, and fearing what it meant, Lucy went instantly to his side, Raul close behind her.

"What's wrong, hombre?" Raul asked, finding the strength to first.

"That alley..." Cooper Howard stated, lifting his chin and using it to point in the direction of what had caught his interest. "What's down it?"

Lucy squinted her eyes, trying to see better down the gap between the buildings and seeing only darkness, besides a few boxes and other litter and debris from the attacked city.

"It's just an alley, amigo. I mean, maybe some lovers go down there sometimes, or a prostituta and her John, but that be about it."

Howard looked unconvinced and the young woman by his side was suddenly scared, a multitude of bad feelings returning.

Remembering another thing her father had once told her, Lucy gazed into the Ghoul's face and asked "What do you think it is?"

That was what her father had taught her, all right.

He'd said once if you were frightened of something, or just didn't know what to do, it was always better to ask than to fret in silence.

Cooper sharply turned to look at her, his teeth gritted, but his eyes softening the longer her looked at her. "Fear. I smell fear."

"Not yours," Lucy stated, not asked.

"No," the cowboy said, his head turning back to stare down the alley, the same look of the hunter about him. "But somebody's."

A shiver running down her spine, the alleyway suddenly contagious in whatever Howard was sensing from it, Lucy lowered her gaze.

It was then, and only then, that she realized his hands had come out from his pockets and were now lying by his side again.

"C'mon I want to see the rest of the city," Lucy declared, as she impulsively took the hand she'd been staring at only minutes ago.

Though he looked at her again with the same amount of passion for the hunt, Cooper Howard's gaze soon fell as he realized that Lucy was holding his hand.

His expression became enough to give her goosebumps as he realized her hand was linked with his.

Though it might have been reluctantly, and with Raul resuming his funny little stories in the background, Cooper Howard let Lucy MacLean lead him forward then, the ghoul and the Vaultie, walking hand in hand down the New Vegas strip, as if they were lovers and not the enemies they had started off as.

Chapter Text

Although it would never be Home Sweet Home to him, the Ghoul returned to the Lucky 38, Lucy right by his side, round the time the sun began to set. Raul had finished up with his little tour, but had rejected any offer to stay the night at Robert House's base of operation, for reasons he refused to delve too deeply in.

"The big boss man, he wouldn't be too happy to see me again," Tejada refused both politely and somewhat vaguely.

"I'm sure we could help smooth anything over," Lucy claimed and the Ghoul glanced at her from beneath the brim of his hat, trying to figure out why the girl was suddenly so confident she held any sway over New Vegas' eccentric ruler. What had they gotten to talking about while nobody else was around anyway?

"No, I don't owe House too many favors, but for what I owe a mutual friend, I believe I will leave him in peace for tonight," Raul replied, his voice softer and more peaceable than the Ghoul would have expected. Suddenly he was a mite more curious about what had gone down in Vegas while he's been underground, but unfortunately he hadn't the time or motivation to delve into any more side missions while two MacLeans were currently the focus of his existence and occupying such different territories inside of his mind.

"Buenos Noches," the other ghoul suddenly bade them farewell before any more arguments over the subject of his staying could arise. He left them with a friendly wave, one Lucy returned with her own, plus a hopelessly sweet sounding "Good night."

Cooper Howard, however, didn't bother saying or doing anything.

There were, at least, three other nights guaranteed in Vegas for him to send off his old friend more warmly, better ones than tonight. And if he literally played his cards right, and won the big gamble, Hank's head would be sitting on a plate before him and that could be there parting feast, a revenge served cold for what Vault-Tec had done to them all.

Hank's daughter's hand, meanwhile, was no longer in his. It had voluntarily been surrendered sometime when the Ghoul was afraid the residents of Vegas were begining to pay notice to the smoothie and his' closeness. They could look at him with fear all they wanted to, but when he saw them looking at Lucy like she was 'bout as big a freak as he was, that was when he wanted to bring out his hand cannon and let it do all of the talkin', something neither Robert House nor Lucy MacLean would be appreciating much.

So, voluntarily, he had let go of Lucy's hand.

It had been nice when it had been there though.

Now, minus their old/new friend and the still AWOL Dogmeat, they walked quietly back to their respective rooms, and Howard had to wonder if Lucy was thinkin' about his words from earlier. She obviously hadn't taken them as seriously as he'd been hopin' she would, but, then again, why should she when he'd been runnin' hot and cold on her since they left the Observatory together, and then mostly with the cold tap on frozen? Now he'd suddenly gone as hot on her as a volcano. She probably thought he was pulling her leg more than anything else while entertaining thoughts of her.

Still, as he walked her right up to her suite's door, and she was turning around, the door still left unopened, he was greatly hopin' she might turn around and ask to share his room while Dogmeat was away...

It would interrupt the other plans he had made for the night, but he was willing to make the sacrifice.

Lucy was standing there staring at him, while something was on the edge of her beautiful lips, and he was fully expectin', no hopin', she was about to say those words, when instead what she asked him was something very different. "When I found you and Raul talking, it looked like he was getting emotional...then out on the strip, he seemed upset again. I didn't want to say anything wrong...I'm so out of my element up here, it scares me sometimes," she looked down at the floor, her lack of experience obviously embarrassing her because it was an inconvenience to others. "Can you possibly tell me anything I might need to know so I won't end up putting my foot in my mouth again?"

The Ghoul felt his hopes coming down to where his expectations should be, feet on the floor and not lying next to Lucy's in bed. He should have known that the Vaultie would be obsessing over her etiquette more than flirtin' with the notion of spendin' the night with an old piece of hide such as himself.

It was just part of her character.

It was hard summing up one man's tragedy in a few lines, but to fufill her request,  and also answer any stray curiosity she might be wrestlin' with, Cooper did like always and gave the sensitive subject his best shot. "Raul lost his whole family, other than his youngest sister, Rafaela, that is, in the war. That's how old he is, even if it's still not as old as me. They survived for a while; he makes quite a gunslinger himself when he wants it. Howe'er, one day, when Raul was starting to turn and was put out of commission, a couple of men got to his sister. He found her dead...he made the men regret they'd ever been born when he found them. He tried to survive as best he could after...'Ventually, he took to looking after a workin' woman who resembled her. Same thing happened all over again. It nearly broke him. It still breaks him when he gets to rememberin'."

As if he expected anything other, tears were streaming down Lucy's face by the time he finished the telling. Her compassion was marked clear in each one and the Ghoul's arms wished he could hold her, while his tongue longed to lick each tear away.

"That poor man," she whispered.

Cooper Howard refused to sigh or even surrender to his own tears.

He'd mourned years ago for both Raul and a little girl whom had been robbed the chance to ever grow into the type of fine young woman standing before him. Besides the Tejadas, he'd encountered many other tragedies, helped create a few himself, and each one had either helped in creating a shield around his heart or helped to tear away a little piece of his soul, dependin' on how you looked at it.

There were too many sad stories to tell...

He'd be standing in the hallway forever if he allowed himself to weep over every single one of 'em.

And every fucking day he was just left wondering what Janey's would be. Or what it had been like if her sad ending had already reached her without her daddy there, willing to die to save her from it.

What would the ballad of Janey Howard likely be when he finally heard it and it possibly destroyed him more than any bomb could?

Remembering his daughter now, and feeling overwhelmed with guilt and responsibility, Howard resolved himself to earlier plans, believing it best that the daughter of his enemy spend the night in her room sleepin' and not inconvenience them both by asking to share a room or involve herself in any way with his secret intentions.

To help push her into it, the Ghoul gauged the sitiuation and saw an opening, something that sparked his own curiosity as well.

"That a new Pip-Boy?" he asked, tilting his chin in the direction of the blasted contraption on her arm, the same one that he was finally noticing just now.

Her eyes instantly fell down to it, but not before they widened, giving away that it was an observation she might have been prayin' for him not to make.

"Oh this?" Lucy said, her other hand going to it, almost like a shield "This, yeah...wouldn't you know it, House saw mine and told me it was outdated?"

"Bet he loved doin' that," the Ghoul remarked neutrally.

"Yeah, he seems big on technology, but I bet you know all about that," she smiled sheepishly. "You two going way back and all."

"Yeah," Cooper confirmed, but was now about to steer the filly into a deeper coral she'd probably wish to avoid more than any distant past: the far more recent one. "So...what'd you and ole House chat 'bout anyway?"

She was still 'bout as panicked at the corners as she was green, but, regardless, she did a pretty impressive job at hiding her anxiety. "He wanted me to wipe his screen down actually...he said the securitrons didn't do a good enough job."

Although Lucy was probably afraid that the whole statement would garner suspicion, it was actually that last bit that took Cooper Howard back the most. "That's funny," he remarked. "That'd be about the first time Robert Edwin House ever conceded his stupid robots weren't better than a human being."

"Is that a glitch or something?" Lucy MacLean asked, obviously interested on some other level he wasn't sure about. All the Ghoul could tell her in return, however, was, "If it makes him slightly more human than he was, I'd say yes."

The both of 'em looked slightly confused now, but it was the cowboy, and his sense of passing time, that hurried them back towards a proper goodnight instead of a further discussion about House. Obviously Lucy and the man were up to something he wasn't allowed to know about, but at this stage, it didn't seem wholly unsettling or dangerous. Besides, the girl was clearly telling the truth about having played maid for him, it was obvious from the look in her honest eyes and the fact that House was obssessed with the cleanliness of his hardware, as evidenced by his questioning him about it the previous night, Cooper Howard decided.

The memory of Janey at the forefront of his mind, Howard chose instead to turn away and walked towards his door, instantly creating a distance between Lucy and himself. "I need my sleep. Once House hears back from the three families, it's anybody's bet where we'll all end up."

"Oh...okay. Goodnight."

Lucy sounded disappointed behind him, her voice both fragile and somehow heavy.

He should just walk into his room and not look back.

It was what he should do.

However, feeling as he did about the Vaultie it was impossible.

"Lucy!" the Ghoul called back, looking over his shoulder without directly facing her.

"Yes," she replied, looking back over her shoulder too.

"I apologize...just talkin' 'bout Raul my..."

"Thoughts are on your daughter," Lucy finished, so in sync with him now it was a little frightening.

"Yeah," he replied softly.

"I understand. Please, don't lose any sleep over me. I'm okay."

She was smilin' like it was the truth, her expression resolute. He nodded at her and then went immediately into his room, her smile reekin' too much of forbidden fruit now that his plans had become cemented over what he'd be doin' in a little while, which definitely wasn't lyin' in his bed dreamin' or otherwise amusin' himself.

No. He wouldn't be losin' any sleep over Lucy MacLean, not tonight, the Ghoul understood.

It was her father that would be taking a large chunk out of his sleep time.

* * *

He'd waited a good hour before leaving his room, still not even confident that Lucy would be asleep by then. It was something he'd had to chance and just hope that he would be silent enough to make it down the hallway, minus her detection, and without any damn securitron popping up to defeat his hard earned stealth mode.

It had been a relief to make it to the lift without interruption and a double relief to gain easy access out the Lucky 38's front door without House and his paranoia giving him the third degree about where he was goin'.

Even Barb could be less nosy when it came to his free time than Robert Edwin House.

Steppin' out onto the street, the Ghoul almost felt back to bein' his own solitary self, no Dogmeat or Lucy by his side to help dampen the role he'd spent years honin' of the lonesome cowboy.

It was a true return to form, so to speak.

And both exhilaratin' and depressin' at once.

New Vegas was a completely diff'rent sight at night compared to the day, just as it had always had been. You could drop bombs all across the country, and House had managed to keep that much intact. If the citizens were left haunted, apparently the ghosts felt safe enough at night to come out and dance on the graves of the livin'. Money was money, afterall and fun was somethin' to be bought with it. And to most, it would always be fun to make even more money, Cooper Howard reckoned.

He was after his own sort of fun tonight however.

And it had absolutely nothin' to do with money.

People watched him walkin' down the strip, curiosity mingled with fear and the occassional interest offered by the workin' girls and boys of Vegas. He had a few offers from some, but all were shot down and shoulda been grateful it was just with a word or a look and nothin' more damagin'. What he was searching for wasn't companionship, if he'd wanted that he could have just stayed at the 38, gone to Lucy's room or tempted her into his. That was where his true heart and lust lay afterall.

No, what he was searching for now was the alley they'd passed by earlier.

The one he'd sensed fear, pure an' unadulterated, from.

The one he believed, without question' or doubt, Hank had been sleepin' down.

Why the man had chosen to fall asleep down it was only something the former Vaultie Leader would know, but he'd done so nonetheless and made himself such a lovely and irresistible target.

From his vantage point, the Ghoul had seen a bit of the blue and yellow jumpsuit famous for Hank and Lucy's kind, and there was only one man in all of New Vegas whom would be given off such a strong mixtured aura of sweat and terror. Hank MacLean had been down that alleyway, one big frightened chicken, and it had taken all of his strength and remaining humanity not to go down it and attack the disgustin' fool right then.

Raul, whom had never known Hank, hadn't been able to tell anythin', but Lucy had sensed somethin', even if it had just been on a subconscious level. Poor girl, she'd never know that the only thing that could have made him leave his role as hunter was her hand slippin' into his.

He'd willingly gone with her, but the whole time, he'd been workin' out his potential plot to possibly go back there tonight and finish up old business, hopin' there was a way he could get the information he wanted from ole Henry MacLean and then put the world his quarry had helped to destroy out of the misery of havin' to suffer the fool for a second longer.

Best part, in Vegas, at night, there was a chance he could make it look like some other faction had done it.

During Raul's tour, afterall, hadn't there been enough refugees from the lost Shady Sands present to cast some doubt? They'd all have plenty of cause to want him dead. And if that wasn't a handful enough of other worthy suspects, there were also any number of cannibals or potential thieves roamin' around the city, thanks to House's inclusion of some of the most violent criminals in the wastelands.

The Ghoul knew he fit right at home in New Vegas.

And House would instinctively side with any other theory that absolved his "buddy" of the guilt.

Convincing Lucy would be more difficult.

But, talkin' 'bout Raul and his sister prodded him into rememberin' his priorities and everything he'd promised Janey centuries before Lucy had even been conceived.

Somethin' else came back to him then, as he neared the alley with Hank, somethin' Barb had told him years ago...

"It's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission."

How right the mother of his only child had been, Cooper Howard bitterly mused, while he pulled out his cannon and prepared to enter the alley: He knew that Lucy would never outright give him permission to kill Hank, so it would have to be her forgiveness he was aiming for.

It was dark here now, too dark to catch a glimpse of any telltale blue and yellow, but the Ghoul refused to let that deter him. He knew where the spot had been, had it emblazoned inside of his memory and marked with a tombstone that read "Henry MacLean Son of a Bitch". Not that he'd kill the man instantly; he'd torture him first to get what he needed, before finally carefully disposing of him altogether. By that stage, Hank would probably appreciate it even, the alley being covered in his blood by then, not to mention his pretty, lil, precious jumpsuit.

Carefully, the Ghoul crept further down the alley, hearing some sound coming up, closer to the desired area.

From the light behind him, the Ghoul saw the shoulders of a man, now risen to his feet, and guessed that it was Hank having just awakened a second too late to avoid his fate. Smoothly, he placed the hand cannon to the back of his neck and let it sit there, feeling the man stiffen as he realized what was happenin.

"Thanks for choosin' an alley...makes it nice and easy for me not to bloody up House's b'loved strip more than it's been already."

"No! No! NO!" the man suddenly shrieked, his voice so high it was almost unrecognizable. "Please leave House out of this!"

"I'm gonna leave him out of it, you can bet on that," the Ghoul whispered over his shoulder, leanin' close to his ear. "He ain't ever gonna know what happened here, but you sure will. You 'bout ready to pay the piper?"

Before he even knew what was happening, another silhouette stood up in the alley, this one apparently having been on their knees before Hank the whole time he'd been threatenin' him.

"He already paid me in caps before I dragged him down here," a woman stated in outrage. "What do you take me for, a novice or something?"

Confused and grabbing the man by the shoulder, the Ghoul spun him around to discover that it hadn't been Hank at all, but some New Vegas stranger he didn't recognize. Likewise, the prostitute standing now behind him, was also unknown, a hard livin' lookin' thing, the shadows probably helped into gettin' more customers than she otherwise might.

"There a man down here wearing a blue jumpsuit with a yeller stripe?" Howard hissed, the John still quivering as the hand cannon was still aimed directly at his heart.

"Yeah," the woman replied. "Told him and his mutt to get lost, this here's my alley. They can go get their own."

"A dog?" the cowboy growled, certain things now making sense.

"Yeah! Must have been synthetic or some other rubbish," she replied, the whites of her eyes one of the brightest things in the darkness and now obviously looking him over seein' that she had finished with her previous job. "Hey, you don't need a piper of your own do you?"

The Ghoul pushed her harshly out of the way, right into her obviously unsatisfied first customer. "No," he answered, hearing both the man and woman falling into the boxes behind him. "My night has already sucked 'nuff as it is."

* * *

It hadn't taken him long to find out where Hank had gone.

It was a combination of both his tracking skills, common sense and having intimate knowledge of the man's accomplice.

The Ghoul found that last one sitting outside of Vault 21, as if she had been waiting for him the whole time.

"Es tu?" Cooper Howard asked Dogmeat, feeling betrayed slightly, but too weary to use his hand cannon for emphasis.

She tilted her head and remained silent.

Cooper Howard stood beside her and turned to face Vault 21, cursing it beneath his breath. Hank was safely inside now, under the protection of Sarah, or whoever the hell House said ran the place. There was nothing he could do without violating Vegas' rules.

Hank MacLean had won this round, and the gamblin' hadn't even started yet.

Thinking of having left the man's possibly willing daughter behind at the 38, the Ghoul lamented how his night had been so miserably mispent and lost.

Having gone to the dogs, as they said, or, at least, one of them.

That one was still eyeing him, as it were, looking both sorry and sympathetic.

What was it that Barb used to say again?

That it was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.

Now those words were turned directly back on him, Coop sighed.

Squatting down to be almost on eye level with the canine, the Ghoul stared her down, both of them silent and cast in the neon glow of New Vegas. Eventually his hand reached out and gave her a good scratch behind the ear. "It's alright...I forgive you, Dogmeat," he softly declared. "You're just used to lookin' after losers."

She looked almost relieved.

Rising to his feet, the Ghoul looked at the vault turned hotel again before casting his eyes back to the dog. "You can't keep him safe forever though. He ain't fuckin Siggi Wilzig, but he shares that much in common with 'im."

Turning instantly around, Cooper Howard started the defeated journey back to the Lucky 38, Dogmeat following closely behind, not wagging her tail behind her.

Chapter Text

Lost in the midst of a nightmare, wherein the Ghoul played the role of a ravaging wolf while he was the scittering, jittering rabbit, Hank eyelids rose in horror, and actual physical pain, right at the moment when the wolf finally caught him, pulling him down by dagger sharp teeth into his very own rabbit hole, proving to Henry MacLean that there truly was no safe place left for him on the face of the earth.

Eyes now opened and seeing that it was only a horrible dream, Hank was surprised to find familiar surroundings awaiting him. Bolting straight up in bed, he clutched at his heart (honestly believing he felt it beating against the skin of his fingertips), as his head turned around in quick succession of three, taking in quickly the contents of the room he had apparently fallen asleep in.

"It was only a nightmare...I'm home," he smiled, his heart finally beginning to calm down as hope took hold of it like a child it wished to soothe.

In a moment, maybe he would manage to feel altogether better and he could then go out and have breakfast with Lucy and Norm before handling the various problems of Vault 33.

This hope was quickly dashed, however, as the door slid opened and a virtual stranger walked into the safety of his room.

She was of average height, blonde hair kept in a tight ponytail, and dressed up in a standard Vault-Tec jumpsuit. In her arms, she carried a tray bearing what appeared to be breakfast, and for a second Hank tried to delude himself into thinking that someone from 32 had snuck out of their own vault in order to bring him an early morning reward for having been such a good neighbouring leader.

Unfortunately, that didn't last for long either, as the woman actually opened her mouth to help spoil for good the nice dream he had awakened to following the nightmare.

"I hope you don't mind me having fixed you a meal," she stated, cheerfully and yet apologetic all at once. "You just looked so tired when you stumbled in here last night, mumbling to yourself and looking like you'd just woken up in an alley...You also looked pretty hungry."

She was a very pretty woman he could see that now, kindness etched on a face that seemed about twenty years younger than his own. It was something she probably believed anyway, although he was a great deal more older than her, when all was said and done.

In a small way, she reminded him a little bit of Steph Harper back in Vault 33.

Now that his dream everything since Lucy's engagement had been a nightmare had been iredeemably squashed, Hank could look around the room and see what wasn't right about it. There were none of his books, no papers or posters. His more civilian articles of clothing were missing and the few items that had made the room seem cozy and less like a steel walled crypt buried several feet underground.

Absent were the trinkets he'd either confiscated or taken from Norm, the same ones that had always embarrassed a son whom had little use for sentimentality and had wished they'd been incinerated.

All of the mementos from Lucy were gone too.

None of the affectionate birthday and Father's Day presents she had given him could be seen, nor any of the cards, the same ones that had always declared "To the best dad in the world!" and which she'd always signed with "Love, Lucy".

He wondered if this year she would make him one, aware that it wasn't very likely.

He didn't deserve it anyway.

Hank ran a hand over his face, looking down to realize that he was also still in a Vault-Tec jumpsuit, whereas, back at his own vault, he'd rarely went to bed without his pajamas, not since after the role he'd played in Shady Sands destruction anyway. Then he had kept the damn thing on as a sort of talisman or reminder or where his loyalty lay.

His role in the Shady Sands affair was another fact that the woman bringing him breakfast was probably blissfully ignorant of or else he'd probably be wearing the food, her serving it to him in a wholly different fashion.

"That was very thoughtful of you," he finally commented with a warm smile, realizing he was keeping her waiting with her hands terribly full.

She returned it with a smile just as warm.

A little cautiously still, she moved forward, bringing the tray right to where he sat on the bed, still slightly disoriented and feeling mournful. The woman placed it over his legs, studying his face almost shyly before rearranging the cutlery on the tray. Hank stared down at the food, once more feeling homesick. Sugar Bombs, deviled eggs, toast with beans and some kind of mystery meat, cooked and designed to resemble bacon without actually smelling like it.

Not meaning to seem rude, but still too genuinely curious to resist, he held a piece of it up and tentatively asked, "What's this?"

The woman looked around then leaned forward, whispering confidentially, "That's some deathclaw meat I managed to sneak away before the White Gloves got it all. There was plenty lying on the strip at that point."

Hank smiled and then gently put the collected strip from the Vegas Strip back on his plate.

All in all, it was a far better meal than he had received during his last day at the 38.

It was also heartbreakingly familiar, minus the pilfered deathclaw, inducing an appetite when he had thought the nightmare, and the subsequent disappointment of where he hadn't been, had completely stolen it from him.

He began to eat, ravenous, feeling his kind hostess' eyes on him the whole time.

"The toast I cooked up in an actual Vault-Tec toaster," she informed. "We have plenty of Vault-Tec stuff if you're intetested in seeing it."

Hank swallowed and talked through the bits of beans left in his mouth. "That's all right. Maybe later. I've seen quite a bit of it in my lifetime already."

"Have you?"

He nodded and turned his attention to the bowl of Sugar Bombs.

Realizing she was lingering for a specific reason, and not to just watch him eat, MacLean hastily swallowed the much chewed cereal in his mouth in order to look up at her and ask somewhat sheepishly, "Is there something you wanted to ask me?"

The woman looked nervous, slightly excited. "Are you really from a vault too? Another vault? Or is that getup just a kink? Goodness knows I've sold enough of them myself for that sort of stuff."

Hank's smile faltered in momentary shock. He really had been underground for too long. He'd forgotten that could even be a fetish for someone above ground. But hadn't that been what the world had been like before the war? A whole bunch of men and women developing their own various unusual sexual proclivities? Wasn't that what had attracted him to Vault-Tec in the first place: a return to the traditional family values that appealed to him? The same American values which had made him such a big Cooper Howard fan? Only later had he learned what the true motivation between the vaults had been, Howard's own wife filling him in. But then, at least, Vaults 31 to 33 had been thankfully spared, securing, at least, a partial fulfillment for his desire to raise the epitome of what a family of the future should be.

Alas, that had fallen apart as much as America had after the bombs.

He could still blame it on Rose or Moldaver, but the problem had really been him, Hank accepted once again. If Rose had really loved him, really truly loved him, instead of blindly accepting an inherited dogma, even if she had found out the truth about the vaults, she might have stayed with him. She certainly would have tried to persuade him to go above ground with her a little harder.

Instead, she had seized upon the chance to live under the sun without him and be a part of a community she had not lived long enough amongst to understand would all eventually fall apart anyway. That was the problem with the NCR...They were repeating past mistakes, even for all of Moldaver's ideals, her communism, she was reanacting what they'd both watched decay on the evening news reports, still believing she had the power to change it somehow.

Maybe, in truth, Lee Moldaver had been the idealistic one while he had been, at heart, the true cynic.

He had seen it fail already and couldn't forget it, Hank ruminated sadly. Rose hadn't. A ghoul his action had reduced her too, or the human before it, she didn't understand when the bomb had fallen on her newfound paradise it was only a flash forward to the future sent directly to it from the past.

The center would not hold when you rebuilt things from the same doomed blueprint.

He had, at least, saved Lucy from becoming a factor in that pitiful cycle.

What had someone said once? Insanity was nothing more than doing the same thing over and over again and expecting it would garner different results? It was probably an Enclave worker whomever it was, he realized and shivered. They were right though. You couldn't try to rebuild the old world up all over again and not expect it to fall again sooner or later. He bet that Moldaver had never explained that to poor Rose while she was lapping up the goo goo eyes the impressionable young woman was casting in her direction.

Perhaps that knowledge was why he had allowed what had happened to happen and then crawled back into the vault with his children.

Not so much out of a cowardice but a fearful fatalism.

The world kept spinning, repeating old mistakes and they were all just rats on that wheel going nowhere.

House's autocratic society and seemingly "ridiculous" idea to go to the moon was commendable because it was something different, something not leading to a repeat of a pre-war history text book.

The man wanted humanity to get off the fucking wheel, at least.

His eyes rising from the bowl he'd been anxiously stirring, Hank only realized he'd taken too long answering the question by the look of anxiety in the woman's eyes. "No," he replied. "I'm an actual vault dweller."

She looked relieved, her smile growing. "I'm a natural born vault dweller too," she stated, now sitting on the end of the bed as if his words made them instant bedfellows. She looked so happy, so accepting of him, that Hank hadn't the heart, nor the bravery, to confess that he hadn't been exactly born in a vault. He'd wrecked too many people's happiness by now (including his own) to enjoy the act. Instead, he did one of the things Vault-Tec had taught him to do so well: let someone go on believing a lie.

"What's your name?" he simply asked her, having no real memories of how he had wound up at the vault turned into hotel, other than Dogmeat dutifully leading him there like he was a lost lamb and not the goat he felt himself to be.

"Sarah Weintraub," she introduced, holding out her hand to him. Hank grabbed it over the bowl of Sugar Bombs and gave it a gentle squeeze. There was some sadness in the woman's eyes, leading him to suspect that she was both another victim of some past sorrow and lonely on top of it as well.

"Well, Sarah, I'm Henry," he introduced, he hesitated for a second before adding the next part, "But all of my friends call me Hank."

He didn't know why he had felt compelled to say that.

Maybe it beckoned him back to his time as one of Bud's Buds. Maybe just because the woman had a pretty, honest smile, like Lucy's, and he needed a friend right about now, one he could talk with and not just at.

"I am so happy to have met you, Hank," Sarah stated. "And that you chose Vault 21 to stay at during your visit to New Vegas. I hope it will live up to your own vault."

Hank's smile faltered for a second, realizing that, being from Vault 21, she had gotten off fairly easily and didn't realize the horrific truth behind their "homes".

"We have my friend to thank for that," Hank replied, thinking of his only other friend in Vegas, the one whom couldn't actually talk to him. "She pointed me in the right direction," he stated, bringing another spoonful of cereal to his mouth.

"Tell her to come here too," Sarah Weintraub advertised. "We'd be honored to have your girlfriend stay with us too!"

Hank almost involuntarily spit the Sugar Bombs right onto the hotel manager's face. "She's not my girlfriend," he quickly corrected. "Believe me, she's just a friend."

Weintraub looked almost relieved as she said, "That's good to know," and MacLean staggeringly wondered if she was actually interested in him? Or maybe he reminded her of her own father?

Continuing to eat his breakfast, and grateful for the companionship, Hank thought, why not? She didn't know whom he was yet and since they both seemed lonely and vault dwellers, it was only natural.

He still didn't have the strength yet to shield her from the disappointment he would inevitably bring. He might as well just let things be and enjoy it while it lasted.

It would all soon fall apart.

As it always had for him.

And for everyone else on the wheel too.

* * *

It was around noon, when he saw Sarah again, having done very little during that time but examine his room and the rest of 21, marking the similarities more in depth to 33. If House hadn't concreted the lower levels, he might have been able to do something far more interesting, but now he was resigned to finding comfort in the familiar. The builders had all been related, so it could be expected, the commoness, but still it was a marvel to him and enough to keep him entertained with nostalgia so that the dread wouldn't get to him too badly.

That would happen soon enough once the Ghoul and he started facing off at the casinos.

If only he could have brought Betty with him! He could remember the Bridge, Go Fish and other assorted card game nights they had played every Tuesday and Thursday. Now that woman had a poker face like no one else he knew of!

Except for maybe Norm.

Whenever the youngest MacLean male had been allowed to join in with the adults, it had often come down to a standoff between Norm and Betty, both bringing out the competitive spirit in the other and keeping the game going until even past his son's bedtime.

It had just been too much fun watching those two facing off!

If either Betty or Norm could play in his stead, Hank knew he would have seen a fighting chance for himself.

He'd been musing over this impossibility when Sarah had come in, this time with empty arms, even though it would soon be noon. She looked a little nervous again, her eyes haunted as she stated. "I just spoke to Robert House...the actual Ghost Man of Vegas! He wants you at the 38 as soon as possible."

Hank's stomach sank. "Okay," he muttered in resignation, aware that House must have heard back from the three families.

"You actually know House?" the hotel manager asked, torn between being impressed and suspicious.

"Yes," he nodded.

"He rarely contacts us...now more than before but this was direct," she mumbled, her eyes then focusing on his. "I guess, I'd be wasting time if I asked how you two know each other and House hates to be kept waiting...my brother knew that..." her voice trailed off and her eyes misted over. She turned them on Hank with more resolve. "Will you promise to tell me when you get back?"

Though Hank knew it was foolish, he still answered "Yes," anyway.

* * *

He was out the hotel's door within minutes, able to locate it fairly easily. Part of his speed was to appease Sarah Weintraub's desire and obvious anxiety when it came to Robert House. He now even remembered House specifically referencing her and some kind of a history seemed to exist between them, one that was professionally amicable, and which Sarah seemed intent on keeping that way.

She'd been so kind to him already, Hank had no desire to be the source of unnecessary friction.

His pace was still rushed as he walked down the strip, so intent on making it to his scheduled fate that his eyes were aimed at the top of the 38's tower and not the road before him. He wasn't looking where he was going and he almost collided right into another pedestrian along the way because of it.

"Sorry, sorry," Hank rushed to apologize, feeling the weight of the mistake just another burden on his shoulders

"Hey, pops, I know that the strip is where it's at and all, but you can't just walk it with your eye to the sky!" the other man stated, his hands going to Hank's upper arms, trying to help steady him and probably unaware the older man had been shaking long before due to nerves and not the impact. "You have to slow down and look to the ground sometimes, you dig?"

Nodding, Hank took a deep breath, his eyes now going from off that ground and directly to the man to finally take a good look at him, one not hampered by embarrassment.

"Or maybe you thought because of my outfit you were in some sort of a race," the stranger quipped amicably.

The man was handsome, well dressed if a little showy with the checkered suit he'd made reference to. His brown hair was thick and his time on the planet was marked as being anywhere from his late thirties to a very well aged fifty.

"This your first time here?" the stranger asked, his hands casually going into his pockets.

"No, but it's a long time since I've been here last."

"Me too," the man stated with a laugh. "Just got back in town. I haven't haunted New Vegas in a dog's age actually."

At the statement, Hank instantly thought of Dogmeat and how she'd be at the 38. He might not be in a hurry to see the Ghoul or House, and seeing Lucy was a painful experience for them both, but, at least, seeing Dogmeat was welcomed.

If this man wanted to stay talking, however, that would never happen.

"If you don't mind, I've got to..."

"Blast off in a hurry? Got it. There ain't always time to shoot the breeze now is there?"

"No there isn't," Hank tried to step forward but the man remained standing in his way.

"You stayin' at Vault 21?" he asked.

"As a matter of fact, I am," Hank repressed a sigh, his eyes darting back to the tower. Whoever this guy was, he certainly had a way of ambushing someone when they had some place else they needed to get to.

"Figures with that getup. Me...I'm at the Tops. Someone there owes me a real big favor; a long time coming infact. Still, maybe we'll bump into each other again, you and I."

Not if I look where, I'm going, Hank thought ruefully, but only said, "That would be nice...now if you don't mind."

"Certainly," the man stepped aside. As he was passing by, though, Hank felt the man slap him on the back, perhaps a little too roughly, while his other hand went to his chest, locking him in place. Slowly, the stranger leaned forward, whispering into his ear. "You look mighty scared there, friend. Someone cut me a break once when I was mighty scared too. In their memory, I'm thinking of paying that forward. You ever need help, you come visit me at the Tops. The name's Bernard...but all of my friends call me Benny. Don't let that get around town though, 'kay...Hank? Just like you when it comes to the NCR, I'm a very wanted man 'round New Vegas."

The hand now off of his chest, Hank fell slightly forward, saving himself in time before he fell face first onto the dusty pavement. When MacLean turned to look back, this Benny fellow was already several feet away, seemingly whistling the whole way. The man looked over his checkered shoulder once, however, and offered Hank a sly and knowing wink, before continuing on his way to the Tops.

Chapter Text

Waiting around back inside of the room where the image of Robert House's massive, static head held court over them, the Ghoul kept almost catching Lucy staring at Dogmeat, panting happily by his feet, and the young woman understood that, if the cowboy caught her, he'd probably never really know the real reason for all of those sneaked peeks.

The Ghoul couldn't possibly know, afterall, how grateful she was to see him with their lost friend only a few minutes ago, when they'd finally gathered together. The order had been handed out instead of lunch by Jane that they were all to go see her boss immediately, no excuses and no hesitation. Apart until their very reunion inside of the office, the Ghoul also couldn't know that she'd come knocking on the door to his room at an indecent hour in the night time, Lucy knew, looking for some company and comfort, only to find the room empty after nobody answered.

There she'd been, her resolution to let him sort out his feelings for his family before they moved forward having dissolved and ready to grab the proverbial bull by the horns and stop this constant square dance they were performing, addressing the attraction between them, and finally do something about it...

And he'd been gone!

Without even telling her first!

The thoughts that had gone running through her head afterwards had all been biting, nasty, painful things, remembering how Raul had pointed out some of the houses of ill repute in New Vegas and referenced how travelers often went there first. At the time, she'd wondered if the Ghoul would have paid them a visit too if she hadn't been with him.

Last night, it had almost been a concreted thought inside of her head, when he'd kept her at an arm's distance, and then vanished from the 38..

She couldn't lie to herself exactly that the Ghoul wasn't more experienced than she was. She was well aware that he might have spent years feeding an appetite for certain desires that a naive little Vault Dweller could barely even think about without blushing. Before the war, he'd already lived out an existence as Cooper Howard, thee Cooper Howard, the type of man that women honestly fainted over!

What could she possibly have that would appeal to him, a nagging insecurity had mocked her long after she'd returned to her room, her hopes and urges frustratingly unsatisfied?

That she'd held his hand while they'd strolled down the strip?

That probably didn't cut it compared to what he was used to.

And they didn't exactly study the Kama Sutra in the vaults.

Some of the women they'd seen walking down the New Vegas strip had also been, ahem, flaunting their attributes and hinting at their vast wisdom.

Maybe things had been better when they'd been a party of two and a half, trekking throughout the desert with very little in the way of competition, Lucy MacLean had regretfully pouted, lying back on her bed.

She'd spent the rest of the night, getting very little sleep, and picturing Howard off carousing at one of Vegas' little flesh pots. Finally, around six in the morning, she'd fallen asleep, not waking until only a little while ago.

That was why it had been such a relief to see Dogmeat returned, and staying dutifully by the Ghoul's heel, no less, leaving her with the wonderful inkling that the Ghoul had gone out last night solely to search for the dog and nothing else.

Even the ludicrous, fleeting thought that he might have gone out hunting for her dad had been disproven!

Phew, Lucy had thought in gratitude. It was so nice to know that she could trust the man.

Her eyes went once more to Dogmeat, and then back to the Ghoul, only to find that, this time, his eyes locked with hers and held them in place, something so forceful and magnetic in his gaze that she dared not look away incase it was actually painful.

She swallowed harshly, feeling like some sort of punishment was imminent.

Casually, Cooper began to stroll over to where she was standing, a few feet away, each step of the cowboy's becoming a confident swagger that made her both want to flee in intimidation and stay glued right where she was so she wouldn't miss a second of it. When he was standing about two inches infront of her, opposingly looking down while she looked up, Lucy felt her knees honestly trembling, wishing to God that the man had been in his room last night when she'd gone to him, so then maybe, just maybe, she'd be weak in the knees for another reason entirely

No offense to Dogmeat and all, but she was a smart canine, Lucy reasoned, one whom could have probably found her way home anyway. Human that she was, on the other hand, Lucy was feeling hopefully lost with what she'd possibly missed out on last night. If only...if only it had gone as she had daydreamed it would!

Cooper leaned forward, clearing away all of her thoughts with the movement, his lips finding her ear to offer words it was obvious he did not want Robert House overhearing.

"You jealous or something, Vaultie?"

Lucy's heart pounded strong enough to be felt everywhere, and then seemed to cease in defense.

"No need to be," he continued, his bottom lip actually grazing the skin of her earlobe. "I only have eyes, amongst other things, for you."

The breath from his words sent strange feelings throughout her body, making Lucy wonder if there was any amount of radiation to the whisper and if it would entirely be a bad thing if there were when it felt so good.

Monty had made her excited on her wedding night, but the Ghoul could conjure up far more intense and dangerous feelings inside of both her body and heart, making her altogether still very confused on how she should proceed.

Cousin stuff she was used to.

Murderous husband stuff had been dealt with too.

Having her longtime ghoulified crush in fullout cowboy gear, whispering into her ear naughty things in the most sexiest of voices was the stuff of pubescent fantasies come true and she was trying not to swoon straight on to the floor (which looked freshly scrubbed, by the way) especially with House's overly large image looming over them like some digitalized chaperone.

The message sucessfully delivered, it was still pretty obvious that business was placed at the forefront of Cooper Howard's mind, seeing as though he turned around and walked right back to where he had been previously standing, his gait still as sexy and overpowering to her as before.

Why did the man have to have this effect on her, she chastised herself, especially after all of last night's foundless fears and agony?

And how much of a man was he really underneath all that cowboy garb anyway?

What level of ghouldom had overtaken the rest of his body?

Suddenly, Lucy wanted to rip off his duster (along with everything that went with it) to find out and experience his ghoulish beauty all for herself.

Feeling hot and embarrassed by what a night of worry and unspent desire had degenerated her into, Lucy fell harshly against the wall she'd been standing by, trying to pull herself together as best she could.

Oh, how she wished she had Steph Harper to talk with about all of this stuff right now! Steph would have known just how she was feeling, always seeming more wise and knowledgable about such things, despite the fact that they were so close in age. It was like her best friend had already lived a lifetime, and what Lucy needed now was another woman to talk to.

The closest thing she had on hand was a robot baring the cartoonish image of one.

And the only other being in way of a confidante was a giant head on a screen, one whom seemed only vaguely human at times himself.

Her mind turning inevitably to her father, Lucy was aware that he was also not a viable option.

Her days of being Daddy's Little Girl were long behind her.

With the way she was so confused and torn, he'd probably be lucky if she even wished him a Happy Father's Day ever again, Lucy knew.

As if right on cue, the object of her thoughts came rushing through the door, and from the way that the Ghoul was staring at him, Lucy knew that Hank MacLean would be lucky if he even made it to another Father's Day at all.

The sudden remembrance of the war between the man she loved and the man whom had given her life was akin to a cold splash of water; Lucy's excited thoughts suddenly deflated, making her wish that the Ghoul and she could be in New Vegas under more pleasant, and far different, circumstances.

Didn't they used to come here for weddings afterall?

She'd have much preferred that: her marrying the Ghoul and her father willingly giving her away to him.

That would have been so much better.

Instead, they were all stuck in a trap of confusion, bad feelings, destruction and desperation, one that House was probably going to make only worse..

"I'm glad to see that you could finally join us, Hank," House greeted drolly.

"I'm sorry, so sorry" Henry replied, sounding out of breath. "I came here as fast as I could."

His enemy had his own observation to make over the excuse.

"If I had dragged you by the neck, I'da reckon you woulda been a lot faster," the Ghoul remarked.

Lucy watched as her father blinked and lowered his gaze. When it landed on Dogmeat, however, it seemed to brighten a little, the one time vault leader offering her an actual smile before he'd even glanced at his own daughter. He was happier seeing the dog and now Lucy MacLean was actually left feeling a little jealous in regards to her dad too.

"I've heard back from each of the families," House began to relay the cause for the meeting, seeing no need to prolong it. Lucy could tell he was the sort of businessman whom saw time as money and money as time. He was also probably in a hurry to have both men solve their dispute, thus allowing focus to be placed on his own problem, instead of theirs. He might be the ruler of the city, and intent on having it run smoothly, but his overall concern, no doubt, was probably still with his own welfare.

"None of the three delighted over the inconvenience," House continued. "Business will be effected and it has taken years for that to return to its former glory. Still, when I impressed upon them the importance of the cause, they were more than happy to concede."

Hank was turning white. From his tone, and Raul's earlier candid revelations, it was easy for Lucy to guess why. One of the major causes of the casinos faltering had been the impact of the loss of Shady Sands. The three families now were probably ecstatic to learn that, by hosting the gambling tournament, they had a chance to play a role in, and also witness, the payback of one of its major participants.

Having let the words sink in, House resumed the game plan. "However, certain of the families were more prepared than others. I have given their situations due consideration and decided to weigh their readiness in receiving you. As such, the first game will be hosted by the Chairmen, tonight, at The Tops."

From the corner of her eye, Lucy saw her father shift, ever so slightly but noticeable, if only because she'd just been studying him.

"These Chairmen," Cooper Howard asked, oblivious. "They run a fair business?"

"Yes. There was a certain problem with them once, but it was an isolated incident and was taken care of a long time ago."

Howard looked pleased, offering a nod to House's screen, which had just stopped flipping.

"There is one other request the families made," House added, "One that is both reasonable enough and easy to comply to. Given the nature of the event, and the notice it can't help but garner, the Chairmen, the Omertas and the White Glove Society have requested that you dress up for your attendence tonight. If they are to be inconvenienced, they expect to make a spectacle of it to possibly recompense. "

The Ghoul growled beneath the rim of his lowered hat. "What I'm wearing should be good enough to whip MacLean's ass in."

"It isn't," Robert House quickly contradicted. "Just remember the old days of Hollywood glamour, Coop. The parties and the award ceremonies. There are several places in New Vegas where you can find the appropriate wear. It shouldn't be a problem."

Lucy was actually feeling rather thrilled by this sudden disclosure. She'd had very few opportunities to dress up in the vault and none whatsoever to see Cooper Howard decked out in person and not on a little screen. She couldn't wait to go dress shopping and to see what the now transformed movie star looked like in either a suit or tux.

With a blush, she discovered that he was turning to look at her now too. His voice back to being low, rough and sexy as he stated in her direction, "Guess this could have its plus points. I'm bettin' you'd look like a million caps in a little, tight red or black number, Vaultie."

Smiling in his direction, Lucy MacLean was already plotting out the type of dress she'd be wearing when the ruler of all things New Vegas saw fit to dash all of her hopes and plans.

"Lucy stays with me," House decreed and both the girl and the ghoul's smiles were erased by the news. "She made a promise she would help me with a few issues around the 38, and I intend to keep her to it. That is, unless she finishes early. Then, by all means, she can attend the 'festivities'. Meanwhile, I intend to monitor the first game, at the Tops, from here, to insure that all remains fair."

The full plan recounted, Lucy suddenly felt a little like Cinderella forbidden to go to the ball until all of her chores were done. She was greatly regretting her agreement to help House out, and wished she had told him to fix himself, when she remembered the trip down the strip with Raul just yesterday and all of its most vulnerable citizens. Then, despite the disappointment she had suffered, it seemed like a possible blessing afterall.

The Ghoul, however, looked outright defiant, prepared to pull out his hand cannon to help make House see some "reason" when it came to his companion joining him. In anticipation, Lucy rushed over and pushed the cowboy's hand down before he could start an outright "disagreement".

"It's okay," she whispered in a strong voice, not the sexy variety he'd previously used on her. "It will give me some leverage to mention the lack of a school and orphanage around here."

Meeting her eyes, Cooper seemed unconvinced.

Lucy shrugged and gave him a bemused little smile. "Sacrifice should stand for something."

His hand falling to his side, the cowboy looked doubtful still, but well versed in her behavior enough to know he couldn't change her mind. "Before you do him a favor, though," the Ghoul mumbled, "mind if you do me one first?"

"Certainly," Lucy agreed before even hearing what it was.

"Pick out my fuckin' outfit for tonight. Barb used to always do that crap for me because I couldn't stand it. No longer needin' to was one of the only good things about the end of the world."

Lucy couldn't keep the grin from off her face, although it was evident the man was wholly uncomfortable and dreading the prospect of going clothes shopping, even with her.

"You betcha," she stated, wondering if this might provide the perfect opportunity to see the Ghoul without anything on but a frown.

Chapter Text

The Ghoul stared long and hard at himself in the full length mirror, never, not for one infernal second, liking what he saw. His reflection sneered back at him, just as unimpressed, it seemed, and he understood for the first time that extra special little something he possessed that scared the shit out of most of his enemies so badly.

Attitude.

One that could be as smooth as a knife resting on its side or as dangerous as the blade on its sharpened edge.

All it took was one quick movement to alter how he turned it.

The beast starin' back looked like one angry, tear-you-from-asshole-to-Adam's-apple motherfucker.

And the outfit that Lucy suggested he give a try did him no grand favors, if for one reason and one reason alone.

He looked like a butt ugly son of a bitch in it.

Weren't really the suit nor the girl's whole fault neither. The Ghoul knew he'd always managed to look one step worse than roadkill gradually since the whole apocalypse began, it was just white was never really his color following his transformation and suiting him up in it made his face look more raw and devastated than ever before.

Looking back on things in the mirror's unkind surface, he supposed it wasn't too bad, the end of everything: He'd been grateful that the world had ended if only because he needn't have bothered with this sort of horse shit.

Fuck House for forcing them to do it, the Ghoul condemned the man and his old-fashioned sense of glamour. The powerful bastard could have pressurred the casino families to have adopted a come-as-you-are rule, afterall he was the fucking ruler of New Vegas! Instead, he probably just got off on making them all dress up like it was the old Hollywood he used to adore and which was now all primarily dust and relics.

Served the whole damn thing right, Hollywood with its false veneer or righteousness and its endless string of parties.

"You really hate these things, don't you?" Barb had asked once, while he had been preparing for either an award ceremony or premiere, not either one mattering anymore since the awards had all been nuked and the last picture show anyone had prob'ly made now involved somethin' illegal filmed on ancient, decaying equipment. "I'm so sorry you have to go," she had then remarked.

Funny how she was always inviting him to 'em then, never with his consent though, he remembered thinkin', even if he would never say it outloud without expecting a subsequent fight. "No, as a matter of fact, I don't."

"Why did you agree to be an actor then?"

"Because I was naive and forgot this was a part of it all," he'd replied with a sigh which confused itself with a groan along the way. "All I was thinkin' about then was acting, you know, playin' pretend."

"Pretend?" Barb had asked, her eyebrow raising. "You play yourself in about a variant of 88% of your movies, and that's being lenient, honey."

"Great," he'd replied, insecurity instantly bubbling to the surface. "Now I need to worry I'm piss poor at the job too."

"That's not what I meant," she'd said softly, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his chest, adorned in the shirt she'd handpicked out for him so many years before Lucy would ever choose the one he was now wearing. "I just meant you're blessed! Half of us don't even get it that lucky to do what we love and make a living!"

His eyes met hers in the looking glass, trying to see if her reflection wouldn't be so quick to hide how she really felt. "You mean to tell me you're puttin' on a show over there at the Vault-Tec offices?"

She'd nodded, not right away, but eventually. "Everyday," she had whispered, her head pressing into his back and the coat jacket she had selected absorbing her confession.

No matter how sad he'd felt for her then, and how, for her sake he was more willing to go to the event, the terrible thing was that Barb had been acting for his benefit just about as much as she'd been doing for the company she'd sold her soul to.

She was, perhaps, an even better actor than he had ever been.

"Do you like it?" the Ghoul suddenly heard Lucy's anxious voice calling out, pulling him out of the past and straight into the present, and nearly giving him a heart attack as he saw what his reality now looked like instead of the ghost of his handsome, blessed past. Back then, afterall, he'd had a nose and a layer of skin. Now he was a freak. Maybe having previously made a living selling his face to the world, he'd been a little sensitive when things had started to fall off or up right disappear.

That hadn't changed decades later and with someone new to care about by his side.

"Um...is it okay?" Lucy asked again, his silence no doubt sending her mind in a worse spin.

He could describe to her all the ways it definitely was not okay, but why waste all that time when he could just outright show her?

"Get in here, Lucy," he said, grabbing the soft little hand on the other side of the curtain separating them and pulling her inside of the small makeshift dressing room with a forceful tug. She stumbled inside, her eyes enlargening somewhat comedically as she almost lost her balance in shock but found the Ghoul yanking her instantly to her feet.

"I wanna ask you...does that fuckin' look okay to you?" he asked, forcing them to simutaneously look at the travesty that was his reflection.

Now, with Lucy by his side, he could admit his previous mistake.

It was partly the suit's fault afterall.

Yeah, he always looked best in dark shades after becoming a ghoul, but this thing was just plain hideous. The girl had damn well set him up in a white tuxedo with tails, a pair of pants that looked like it could double as a hot air balloon and a scarf that honestly looked like a stretched out yellow doily. He could be the handsomest man God ever put on the planet and the suit would still be a fiasco. How someone as smart as Lucy MacLean, a former teacher, could ever have...

The Ghoul's eyes focused on the girl's reflection in the mirror.

A hand might have been covering her face, feigning disappointment, but her shaking shoulders and beautiful eyes gave it all away...

The girl was laughing.

And not the type of laugh that wasn't expected, neither, this was the sort of giggle bad boys and girls set free after a prank they'd performed had been successfully completed with just the right payoff.

"You made me look like a damn clown on purpose!" he growled, meeting her eyes in the reflection.

"Oh no! I considered it an act of self preservation," Lucy now stated, her hand dropping from her mouth to be clasped like a good little girl infront of her.

"Self preservation?"

"Yes," she nodded. "I reasoned, whatever I chose for you afterwards could never look this bad."

Now she just outright smiled, bright and beautiful.

Damn it, the Ghoul thought. Why'd she have to go and be just the right blend of cute n' sass?

She deserved to be punished for her insubordination and he was just the right cowboy to teach the filly her lesson.

"Seems to me, I need a woman's touch," he stated, dangerous and sly. "Now you go pick me out a real outfit and then, Lucy MacLean, you're going to dress me in it yerself."

Looking as bad as he did in the suit, it was almost worth it to see the expression on Lucy's face when she realized what he was saying.

"I...you want me to...dress you?"

"Yeah," he said, turning to take a step forward, so he could be right up in her pretty little shocked face. "But first you gotta undress me, get me the hell out of this getup..."

"But," she said and then actually gulped. "Can't you dress yourself?"

"Listen here now..." the Ghoul stated, getting even nearer before he teased, "You know I used to be Cooper Howard. All us big movie stars had servants to take care of that shit for us. Since I've been takin' care of your ass since the Observatory, I see it only as your proper obligation."

It was an outright lie of course.

He never could cotton to lettin' others do for him what his momma had taught him to do from the age of six. But Lucy didn't know that. All she pro'bly had fillin' up her vault raised mind was stories of Hollywood glamour. He reckoned she was right bad as Robert House in that regard.

"Unless 'n you're not up to it," he dared sensuously.

The dare worked as he'd hoped it would. The girl's need to prove herself to any man outweighed her sense of modesty and she was bustling by him and through the curtains, only to return just a few minutes later, her hands overflowing with clothes, as if she'd already had them picked out before she'd sent him in there.

She probably had, the Ghoul mused.

All the more reason to make her feel uncomfortable for a change.

"Good...now get me out of this ridiculous waste of thread," he commanded, stretching out his arms in invitation for her to begin stripping him naked.

Her hands hesitant at first, she soon did what she did with all daunting tasks he assumed: put her heart and soul into it.

Not to mention her fingers.

It was hard not to think of those at work on the clothing, his skin just a few layers away. He found himself needing to exert some control over himself, or more specific certain areas of his body. The Ghoul was beginning to think that he'd gotten himself in deeper than he'd bargained for as it became apparerent that the girl wasn't backing off nor feeling embarrassed. No, infact she seemed to be getting off on stripping off the articles of the piss poor suit, her curiosity over what he looked like under it stronger than either shame or propriety.

Her hands were at his chest...

His waist...

His legs...

His thighs.

And if he we'rn't partly red already, he would be, not from any shyness but from outright excitement.

He turned away when all he was wearing was his ratty old undershirt and the pair of boxers he'd picked up who remembered when, seeing himself in the mirror and, oh sweet Lord, did he ever look like one of those old anatomy drawings in the textbooks med students used to study! And there was Lucy lookin' so young...so smooth...on her knees before him. Now that sure was a splash of cold water to his arousal, seein' how fresh she was and how far past bein' out to pasture he was.

It made him feel somewhat guilty.

He had no love for Henry MacLean, but how would he feel if some old post apocalyptic geezer was forcing his Janey to dress him?

Enraged, without a doubt.

"That's fine," he snapped, grabbing the thin fingers reaching for the waist of his boxers and preventing them from going any further. "I'm in a hurry to see that next zoot suit you cursed me with."

She stared up at him, the disappointment clear in her confused eyes. It was obvious she had been...curious. But, while he had harboured his own fair amount of that emotion, the Ghoul had little compulsion to answer it, especially when it might mean the girl discovering the full horror he had become or taking advantage of her just because he could.

He still wasn't sure how much of her current toleration of him was because he was the Ghoul or because he had once been her hero Cooper Howard.

Lucy was rising to her feet, sullenly going to pick out the first piece of clothing to dress him in, when he prevented her, a peace offering coming to his mind.

"Better go pick yerself out a dress too," he ordered.

Lucy looked confused, unsure of the instruction. "But with House making me work, whose to say if I can make it or not? It might take a while."

"Who said anythin' about that bullshit me and Hank will be playin' at? I'm talking about you and me going out on the town, painting New Vegas a shade of red it ain't never seen before, the first chance we get."

"You really mean it?" Lucy MacLean asked, the smile back on her face. "It was a double negative, but you really want me to go out with you?"

"Ain't nothin' that would please me more," he stated, trying not to smile back, the girl's happiness damn near contagious.

With a little jump, Lucy rushed out, returning so quickly, the Ghoul realized she'd had an eye on her own dress straight from the beginning as well. When she went to restart dressing him, the Ghoul stopped her, not wanting a second helping of temptation. "You take care of yerself this time, I'll take care of myself."

Then, grabbing a hold of the real suit she'd chosen, Cooper Howard walked out of the dressing room, allowing Lucy the chance to use it with all of the privacy she wanted and no risk of his stealing a peek.

"Call me when yer done," he called out, turning to see the other customers and serving lady all starin' at him like he had the plague or something.

"Well, really, do you mind?" the snooty old New Vegas shop woman asked, obviously harbouring a certain disdain for any one of his persuasion. She'd probably shit herself in relief the moment he'd gone behind the curtain, the ghoul realized.

"Don't worry," he hissed. "You won't bother me, you bunch of fuckin' smoothskins" he added, and then boldly began to dress, taking pride in his radiated state if it pissed the woman and her prejudices off.

* * *

"Done," Lucy called out a few minutes later, the Ghoul having spent all of his time patiently waiting by a nearby wall, his ears tuned into every sound she made behind the curtain.

When he stepped behind it, he could fully see what he hadn't been able to while tormenting the fine clothing story's staff merely with his presence.

The main body of the suit, the jacket of it possessing those long tails you'd see pianists flapping out behind them when they sat down to play, was all black, a color which suited him far better than the blaring white. The only exception to this rule was the white, western themed embroidery at the sides and lapels. To compliment it, Lucy'd upped and chosen a red crimson vest to wear beneath it, the color of blood with even darker threads of running through it like veins. The white shirt underneath had black buttons that stood out kind of like bullet holes. The tie she'd replaced with a bolo, something close to his heart, soul and memories.

This wasn't what fully caught and hold his attention however. His own reflection was no competition for the living breathing view of Lucy decked out in her own dress, a shade of matching crimson for his vest, with black lace wrapped over it. There was a healthy offering of her cleavage, one that would make most schoolmarm's blush, but which Lucy seemed oblivious to in her confidence. She'd done her hair up rather hastily, a few strands falling free, but it was effortlessly beautiful, complimentary to everything about her.

"So what do you think?" she asked.

"You're the most breathtaking thing I've ever seen," he replied reflexively.

Smiling again, Lucy said, "Thanks...but I meant you.  What do you think of the tux? Better?"

Once again, the Ghoul turned and looked at himself in the mirror. He watched as Lucy came to him, standing behind him like Barb had often done in the painfully distant past. 

He didn't feel so ugly now nor so wretched.

It suited him.

"Much better," he answered, aware the girl would never know that he meant how he was feeling inside just as much as how he looked on the out.

"Good," Lucy said, wrapping her arms around him, her sweet young cheek pressed into the sleeve of his upper right arm.

It was then the Ghoul realized, or perhaps just accepted, that Lucy MacLean suited him too.

Chapter Text

Though it had taken him forever to find anyone who knew what he was talking about, Henry MacLean finally hit the proverbial jackpot when he'd encountered a small, balding man with glasses and a limp. The man had looked at him like he was risking both of their lives by saying the name, no matter how vaguely, but had then whisked him away to a corridor in the large building where nobody else could hear them or apparently know what they were up to.

It had been a gamble, of course. But it had been one that had apparently paid off, at least.

Or this part of it had anyway.

When he'd first arrived at the Tops, well ahead of the scheduled contest with the Ghoul, Hank had been half jumping out of his nerves that he might be disqualified from the start. Maybe House, hearing he'd gone to the casino first, would somehow forfeit things, although no rules had been laid out about that one way or the other. It didn't take a genius to glean whom Robert House was cheering for and, at this stage, he might invent some fresh rule to help seal things in favor of his old "buddy" Cooper Howard, even if the friendship was only in House's mind. Coming here could have meant he had played into House's hand, perfectly, revealing his own before it had any time to do any damn good, Hank knew.

His other concern had been that he would breach the etiquette of whomever ran the Tops itself, be it the Chairmen or whomever. If they'd demanded they dress up, afterall, they might equally sneer at this unapproved move, believing that he was seeking an unfair advantage to make the "entertainment" less appealing to the crowd. If that was the case, he was prepared to merely state he had come to watch and see how things were done before failing miserably during the contest and equally spoiling things. Even now, to be safe, he'd come in a tuxedo, one that he'd picked up back at Vault 21, Sarah having let him borrow it from her own store room's collection.

"It looks good on you," she commented. "Like a movie star."

Almost like Cary Grant, Hank had thought, remembering something his mother used to tell him in her more amicable moods. "Thank you," was all he could say back, knowing he probably should be careful with the way the woman was looking at him and the destruction he caused everywhere sooner or later. He wasn't sure what the Ghoul would do to him if the cowboy won, but he doubted there would be anything left for Sarah Weintraub other than a bone or two to sell as a souvenir at her shop.

"I can go with you," she'd asked, cementing Hank's certainty he knew what she was feeling for him. "I have a evening dress in storage too...I can come and offer moral support."

"No, no that's okay," he'd turned her down, instantly feeling bad about his haste when he saw pain replacing affection in her pretty eyes. "I'm just nervous enough about tonight without having to worry about what you'll think of me...how about for the last game, if we make it that far, that is?"

She had brightened up instantly. "I can come and watch you win," she stated, leaving Hank to pretend he actually found some hope in her words.

The only hope in hell he had was waiting for him at the Tops, he knew, and so, properly dressed, he'd gone there, alone, ignoring his misgivings and the surety he suffered that he'd be targeted long before he found what he was targeting himself.

Fortunately fortune was on his side in that respect. No one had paid him much notice, or thought his propriety was lacking by coming there early. However, they also didn't seem to know what he was talking about when he made concealed references to race track flags or needing a "benny" or two. Though told a few times that races were not standard casino games and offered a few drugs, the true object he was looking for seemed out of his reach or possibly even a lie. Soon Hank had felt like a crazy man, wandering around a casino and asking for something nobody seemed to know about.

He should have left. Gone back to Vault 21 and just drowned himself in nostalgia before defeat at the Ghoul's hands, Hank wagered, but there or here made little difference...he might as well stay right where he was, doomed and away from Sarah and her sweet face and vain hope that he might make it out alive and not served up to Cooper Howard on the best silver platter Robert House could find in his shambles of a city.

Three games, he had tried to remind himself. Only three casinos and three games to play before that happened, and you never knew, it was New Vegas afterall. But it all felt so hopeless he could no more put his faith in the reputation of the city than the roll of a dice or the spin of a wheel.

Where he came from men made their own fortune. Just as he was trying to do now.

And finally he'd seen it, the flash of recognition in the croupier's eyes when he'd given his vague little hints. "You get a bump on the head?" the man had asked, emphasizing the word bump in such a way that unmistakably let Hank know how he should reply.

"Yes. It was outside of the Lucky 38," he answered.

"Maybe you should lie down then," the man stated. He nodded to a guard in the corner and then was seemingly given permission to leave his table, where only Hank was standing anyway.

A few minutes later, plus a few beads of sweat running straight down from his forehead, and Hank was sitting in what looked like a waiting room in the basement of the Tops. The croupier had left, but that didn't mean he was alone, a man in standard Tops clothing waiting by a door and keeping an eye on him as Hank was left to squirm with only his inner ramblings as amusement.

Not that they were amusing.

His eyes wandering around the area, his thoughts soon followed, wandering to areas that brought him no more comfort than his upcoming tournament with Cooper Howard.

Had they hid in the basements of Shady Sands when the bomb had dropped, hoping that it might save them? And if they had, were they soon turned to mausoleums when they couldn't dig themselves free from the rubble?

The guard didn't seem to care about such thoughts. He continued to scowl at him even long after Hank had offered him a smile and received only a growl in return.

Suddenly a door opened and an arm outstretched, its hand motioning him inside clearly seen if not the rest of the man. All that Hank could focus on, however, was the pattern of the sleeve, like it was telling him the race was about to begin in some way. Little did the wearer realize, the race had already started for him long ago, but it never felt like a race...more like he was running to escape with his life.

Henry MacLean stood and walked towards where the hand had disappeared, following suit and leaving the scowling guard behind.

The room looked like a secret living space. Actually...it looked like a fallout shelter, the type that predated Vault-Tec and all of its blood chilling schemes. It was primitive but was also quite lush, the perfect hideaway for a man who didn't want to be found. It had even been made with false windows, displaying scenes of green lawns neighboring houses and the white picket fences in between. Hank felt his heart aching a little for those dead days...long before Rose had even been born or Norm and Lucy. Back when one altered step down a different path might not have led him here, looking at just photographs of more innocent times.

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise," the man named Benny greeted joyously, coming up from behind and slapping his guest on the shoulder, causing Hank to jump about a foot in the air, from surprise. "I didn't expect to see your anxiety riddled face so soon again!"

"I...I didn't either," Hank replied, excusing the part where he had hoped he would never have to see the man again at all. Honestly, if House hadn't forced him into this corner, and listed the Tops as the first stop on the venue, he might never have sunk so low. "I hope it was okay...I didn't know whom to turn to and I remembered your words."

"Hey, my name isn't goin' up on the matinee these days, what on account of my checkered past," the loudly dressed man stated, pulling on the labels of his jacket as he sidestepped in front, walking backwards it seemed to the nearest bright red couch. "But if you want me, you got me, and a promise is a promise, is what I always say."

"Why did you promise me anything anyway?" MacLean inquired in strategic suspicion.

"All in good time, Hanky, all in good time," Benny said, straightening his tie as he plunked himself down on the couch. "So, like my digs? Feel like home to you? Sort of, at least?"

"They're very nice," Hank remarked, with a twinge of that familiar and useless longing.

"Yeah, they ain't bad," Benny agreed, but now seemed slightly less pleased with them. "Truth is, I got my sights higher, lookin' straight to a presidential deal, which my connection is trying to finagle. Until then, this is my temporary resort. It ain't a suite but it's still sweet, get my drift?"

Benny propped his feet up on the coffee table and Hank instantly saw that the soles were covered in sand. Had the man been in the direction of Caesar's? Had he had a pressing need to come back here in a hurry?" Benny took note of the notice, but his dusty shoes remained unapologetically on display. "I'd offer you refreshments, but the fridge isn't stocked yet. No cheese and crackers and no wine. Don't worry about it though. I'll get it worked out in time."

"I didn't come here for food," Hank stated and his voice sounded defeated even to his own ears. "I need your help. You see..."

"I see, you got a tournament comin' up quicker than soon with some guy known as the Ghoul, am I right?" Benny stated, his shoes sliding easily off the table as he sat forward, and leaving some sand behind in their wake. "And you wanted to know if I'd do like I said and help you out some? Maybe rig it so luck was in your favor?"

Hank nodded slowly. "Yes...but I'm still curious over why you even would."

Something crossed over Benny's face which resembled honest, human emotion and not just the persona he had seemed to create of bravado and silk. "It's like I told you in front of the 38...someone I cared about once, a mighty long time ago, taught me all about second chances. I could, shoulda, been kicked when I was down, then they up and showed me some compassion...I never forgot that moment, MacLean. It stayed with me...right here." Benny placed a hand over his heart and the motion was neither false nor unmoving. "So, when I needed to come back here, I promised myself the first person I saw, the very first one whom had stuck his nose in my business somehow or messed things up for me...like you did when you blew up Shady Sands...well, I was going to forgive 'em."

As Hank felt his sweat becoming chilled, realizing his deliverer knew more than he was saying, he struggled to calmly reply, "That was very nice of you."

"Well...it is and it isn't," Benny confessed, becoming less morose and almost jovial. "There's fine print to everything, Hanky Panky. I've always been a little bit of a cheater. Or, rather, I pay real close attention to the odds, and I knew for certain, beyond the shadow of a doubt, you gather, the odds were in my favor that the one person I'd rather shoot myself than help I'd never see loitering around the city streets."

Benny was looking at him in such a way that Henry understood whom he meant, although, whatever had happened between this man and the other he didn't know, nor did he feel up to hearing about now or ever in fact.

"Robert House."

"Bingo!" Benny grinned, aiming a finger gun at his guest's bow tie. "Not that that is any game you'll be playin' against this Ghoul. Which, come to think of it, finding out what game the Chairmen do have on the schedule should be our first move...Or, better I should say our second."

"What is our first move?" Hank inquired, genuinely curious about what would take precedence over finding out what game was being played so they could properly manipulate it so he a chance in hell of winning.

Benny stood and walked towards him, draping an arm over Hank's shoulders as he casually turned him around. "That's where you come in, buddy," he answered, his voice just as lighthearted as usual but now as slicked with oil as his hair was. "I need you to pay a little visit to the 13th floor and retrieve something that belongs to me..."

What followed was one or two lines of instructions, one so simple an errand person could follow them. All Hank could think of to say in return was what he had always said in one way or another, first to his mother, then to Bud Askins and Vault-Tec as a whole and finally to all of those whom stood in the shadows, playing puppeteers to them all: "Yes man."

Benny actually laughed out loud, slapping Hank hard on the back as he pushed his guest straight out the door. "Jackpot, Hanky! You got that right!"