#irradixnce

The sound of his own blood rushing filled his ears, almost loud enough to drown out the perpetual wheeze of labored breath through his teeth. Not nearly loud enough to put a dent against the alarms blaring every ten seconds from the skeletal insides of Robert House's casino.

Robert House's mausoleum.

The gunshot stiill echoed inside of him, fired from Anna Winden, sealing the fate of the man who had made her and ruined her in the same breath. Not a man anymore. A husk. A machine that ran on the suffering of his subjects. It was hard for the Ghoul to say he wasn't proud of her in some way, but the haunted look in her face didn't exactly bring him satisfaction or comfort.

No time for that during their great escape-- not so great, not with him limping slower than a lame ox. Securitrons hadn't been easy to tangle with. But at least they weren't a threat anymore, not with the head of the snake lying dead in its own coffin.

The Ghoul stumbled a touch on one of his boots, paused to rest his shoulder against the cinder wall, cracked and leaking from a hundred rusty pipes above. "Wait," he said, quiet and barely audible over the alarms, "just... let me catch my breath."

Anna was putting all of her energy into holding herself together for just a little while longer. Up until a week ago, she’d never even shot at another person, let alone *killed* them and now she had shot both of the men she loved in the head in the same day.

At least Cooper wasn’t dead from it. Yet.

“Okay.” She stopped and turned to watch him, mentally walking herself through all the steps left before she could curl up in a ball and scream in between flashes of his and House’s limp bodies every time she blinked.

One of the perks of being a ghoul invovled a better ability to see in the dark: his eyes had a tendency to hold a strange light glassiness with lower sources of light. They lingered in an imprint with every dark turn after the flashing golden lights of the blaring alarm. *He was staring right back at her.*

"...You lookin' at me like I'm already dead," he murmured.

Anna just kept looking at him, speechless for a moment as she tried to think of how to even respond to that. A part of her was terrified of jinxing their escape if she acknowledged anything out loud and the rest of her knew that if she cracked, she wasn’t going to be able to stop herself from falling apart completely.

“I’m not trying to.” It was a weak response, but it was all she had.

The Ghoul wheezed quietly, a hand pressing into his ribs as if that might keep all the blood inside of him. The other reached out to ghost leather-gloved fingers over her wrist. He wanted to hold her hand, but knew it would make things worse.

His face turned down, the brim of his hat shielding the view of those cold eyes shining in the dark. Deep breath. One. Two. "...Just a little further. Let's... let's go."

The old cowboy pressed himself off of the wall to start off again, carried as if on momentum alone.

She just nodded, the tension in her body spreading to her throat and mouth, making speech difficult. As they resumed their escape down the dark tunnel, Anna’s steps slowed to keep pace with Cooper in case he needed help. It kept at least some of her mind preoccupied with watching him walk, counting how many steps they had left to reach the exit and then how many it would take to get to the Followers for chems and to get him fixed up.

The tunnel eventually opened up, the course of their escape route planned to the tunnels underneath Freeside and the manhole that fed out to the East side. The Ghoul was silent as they clawed their way out to the setting evening sun, the sky growing dusky and the air having gone cool.

The sound of alarms still echoed. Securitrons rolled about haphazardly, cut off from their source like headless chickens; still dangerous, but confused. He tried to breathe in the fresh air but only coughed instead, dragged himself out, and rolled to all fours. The startled screams of Freesiders at the sudden emergence of a blood-covered ghoul from a sewer grate wasn't unexpected, though it didn't help the anxiety of their situation.

"We gotta get out of here," the Ghoul rumbled back to Anna, "and we gotta get out yesterday. Somebody's bound to come... to come after us."

The implication was quiet in the backdrop of his sentence: he wasn't sure there was time to get his vials.

Not getting them wasn’t exactly an option. Her freedom was worth jack shit to her if he went feral or choked to death on his own blood. She shook her head as she fought to speak.

“Get to Sugarfoot. I’ll go get your vials.” She could run and with any luck, the securitrons might be less inclined to shoot at her alone. It was a stretch but what other options were there?

His brow immediately knit in a look of frustration-- no, concern. A hand reached out to her wrist, to reflexively take her hand. "--Don't wanna leave you alone, Winden--"

But the lurch of another wheezing cough said enough. His other hand had shot up to his mouth to smother it, to swallow the blood rising up in his throat.

"Goddamnit.”

“Then come with me.” She had thought she’d understood that everything wouldn’t magically be fixed once House was gone, but she’d hoped she’d feel less trapped. But here they were, once again with no truly good or safe options to pick. “Those vials are non negotiable, Cooper.”

It was something of a first for him; the first time his priority wasn't the next dose, wasn't staying alive. It was her. Her safety, her security. If he finally lost his centuries-long fight, to him it would be worth it if it meant getting her up and out from under House's thumb. If he wasn't in a rush, maybe Cooper would've stood to examine that a little longer.

As it was, he swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut. "No," the ghoul conceded, "no, you're right. I trust you. Just move fast, head down--" another rattling cough. This time his vision swam black, and Cooper knew he didn't have time. He squeezed her hand and started stumbling off.

"Meet you outside, Winden."

“Be careful.” She squeezed his hand back, only just barely able to make herself let go.

They were in the final stretch now. Fifteen more minutes and they’d be free of this hell for good. With a final deep breath and glance at Cooper’s retreating form, she started making her way to the Old Mormon Fort, trying to appear as discreet as possible when she was splattered with blood and dressed a little too nicely for Freeside.

The Mormon Fort was already in disarray, but thankfully the Followers of the Apocalypse were still desperate enough for funds to prioritize Anna and her gracious supply of caps. Still, it was hard to navigate the chaos of agitated addicts and some injured troublemakers trying to capitalize on the chaos on the Strip.

But the vials were delivered: a hell of a lot of them too. All that was left was getting out the gate back into the open air...

Where she was stopped very suddenly nearly the moment those gates opened. A small group of three raiders, Fiends by the dishevled look of them, holding shotguns ready to fire from an itchy trigger finger. Chaos in the strip meant fleeing, and fleeing meant an easy funnel for a stickup.

"Where you goin' so fast, pretty lady?"

Anna was going to miss having the money to just wave it around and get what she wanted. Being able to cut through all the chaos was damn convenient, especially right now when every minute counted.

What was less convenient was the chemmed up raiders right outside the gates. She didn’t even have the emotional energy to be afraid or angry, instead just feeling a sort of exhausted acceptance. This might as well happen on top of everything else. Why wouldn’t it?

“Just getting away from the insane robots, same as everyone else.” She glanced in the direction of the Gun Runners, trying to figure out if she stood a chance making a break for it.

It was clear in the way those Fiends raised their guns that they weren't intending on letting her go. The glance at the Gun Runners kiosk was answered with an advancing step from one of them, his sneer bloody and toothless: "You've gotta pay a toll to--"

A blast of a pistol-- a particular pistol with the kickback of a horse. The Fiend was hit in the back and flew into one of his companions from the force of it, sending them spiraling to look for their attacker.

But he was far too fast-- or rather his ghoulified horse was.

Cooper sped by, threading the needle between Anna and her assailants, using the momentary distraction to sweep in and grab her by the forearm. It was an inhuman strength that had him hoist her up into the saddle while Sugarfoot reared back with a gutterral whinny, front hooves snapping out to ward off the ghouls for the moment it took to get Anna secured.

And she shot off with a kick of spurs, thundering across the desert as the fiends re-adjusted their aim.

"Head low," the ghoul growled, "keep low!"

Realistically, it was a bit preemptive, but Anna couldn’t help the relief that washed over her at the familiar sound of Cooper’s pistol. Her arms wrapped around him tightly as he helped swing her up into the saddle.

“Oh, thank Christ,” she breathed, tucking her head down as the Fiends continued to take potshots at them.

The Ghoul was never one to run from a fight, but in the state they were both in he wasn't willing to risk losing said fight. So he kept his head down and kept Sugarfoot in a mad gallop as they sped away, ducking and weaving to avoid being too easy of a target for the errant blasts of laser rifles. But it was an open plane before them, and the dust kicked up by the horse's hooves wasn't quite enough cover for them to rest easy just yet.

Only when they had crested the foothills of the red rocks Northwest of the Strip did the horse's pace slow to a trot.

And Cooper slid gradually to the side, teetering like a branch in the wind, before he simply fell out of the saddle and into the dirt.

“Shit.” Anna scrambled out of the saddle, tripping a little as her heel got stuck on the stirrup. “I’m coming, baby.”

She got down next to him, digging through his pockets for his inhaler and swapping in a new vial when she found it. “Here. I’ve got stimpacks in my bag, too.”

The Ghoul was unresponsive as she patted him down for his inhaler, save for the slightest flicker of his eyes to try and follow her hands. Anna virtually needed to roll him over onto his back to get a response from him-- he wasn't even lifting his hand towards the medicine he sorely needed. But he was wheezing, barely any breath save for a pained rattle in his throat.

Very few people would see a creature like him as vulnerable as this, as desperate for help as he was. And despite all his talk about the brutality of humans and the inevitability of betrayal... it was his dear, sweet, Anna that he could trust to be here. And only her.

He couldn't grasp it himself. All he could do was hope she could figure out how to administer those life saving drugs before he lost consciousness.

“I’ve got you, Cooper. It’s going to be okay.” She kept repeating reassurances as her shaking hands struggled with the vials. Finally, after what felt like an eternity to her, she heard a soft click as it slotted into place.

“It’s just an inhaler, right?” She knew he wasn’t going to answer, but she felt better saying it out loud, letting him hear what she was doing. Pulling him up into her lap in a more seated position, she raised it to his lips. “Breathe for me on three, baby.” She took her own deep breath before pushing down on it.

In his battered, oxygen-starved brain, in the moment all Cooper could think about was how lovely it felt to be pillowed in her lap like that, with her arms around him, a hand on his face. She was fussing over him. The scorching fire in his chest felt more like a warm comfort than the latent radiation that was quickly killing him.

The breath he took was feeble, barely any strength behind it, nearly ineffective.

Nearly-- but not entirely. The rush of coolness was subtle but present... and enough to stimulate a ragged cough. A heartbeat picking up.

The second dose was easier, a bit more medicine entering his lungs, the heat starting to subside.

Her grip on him tightened slightly as he coughed. It was better than the barely there breaths he’d been taking. She pressed a kiss to the top of his head, still holding the inhaler for him. “You’re doing great, Coop.”

His eyes fluttered closed, the rush more of a swimming disorientation. He felt like he was flying, soaring, then plummeting back to Earth. This much at once was difficult to process, but it was the best way to ensure he wouldn't meet his end here and now.

It went on for a good while: labored breaths, a dose of that inhaler, long silence. The sun was starting to lower on the horizon. No one was coming after them. Not yet. But the lights of Vegas were still too close, and the flicker of fires were foreboding.

When Cooper finally spoke, it was slurred and bleary. "...Should make camp... in the foothills. Harder to track..."

Anna just continued holding him, occasionally muttering sweet nothings and encouragement until he was finally able to speak again.

She nodded at his words. The farther they could get from New Vegas, the better. “Alright. Do you think you can get up so we can move?”

"Can try..."

And it certainly took a lot of effort, strenght, and balance he clearly didn't have. It was a labor to get upright, but he could lean against Sugarfoot, who seemed to... bend down a bit, as if inviting him back up into the saddle. Cooper sighed and coughed again. "...You remember how to ride, Sweetheart? I... ain't in no shape to get us nowhere."

Anna hovered anxiously, ready to rush in and catch him if she needed to, though she relaxed slightly once Sugarfoot was helping to hold him up.

“Well enough,” she replied, taking the moment to change into her boots. “I can’t do anything fancy, but I can get us out of here.”

"I ain't... askin' for dressage," he wheezed. Unfortunately for his dignity, he couldn't quite get up on the saddle one leg at a time. He *did* manage to just lay across it like a sack of potatoes and gradually re-adjust to sit, though.

She stuffed her shoes into her bag as she watched what may have been the saddest thing she’d ever seen in her life. “If I could ride her blind, I’m sure I can do it now that I can actually see where I’m going.”

Careful of Cooper’s precarious seat, she climbed up into the saddle with him.

"Prove it then." An indignant answer, but clearly he was feeling a bit vulnerable in the position he was in. Shot up by securitrons, still healing a hole in his head, nearly overtaken by radiation sickness, all really took the wind out of him. All he could do was hope that they wouldn't accidentally find themselves in a cazador nest or something equally fucked.

They didn't. Instead, they found a sheltered ravine, small but tucked in well, under the shade of a copse of yucca trees. There was no speaking aloud that he wasn't going to be the one to make camp, largely because he was already half unconscious in the saddle by the time they got there.

Once Anna got the hang of steering for herself, the ride was largely uneventful. She couldn’t go as fast as Cooper, but she was worried he’d just fall off if she tried, anyway.

Once they found somewhere safe, she helped Cooper get sat up in the shade before starting to set up camp. Her hands shook and her still healing arms were starting to protest, combined with it being the first time Anna had had to do it all herself. Under different circumstances, she might have felt some amount of pride when everything was eventually set up. As it was, though, she just collapsed down next to Cooper, trembling as her emotions finally started catching up with her.

Cooper was in and out once he settled down. Weak, pained, and now high as a kite, it was easy enough to get lost in his doze, watching Anna do her best to pitch a shelter and unfurl some bedrolls from Sugarfoot's saddlebag. Time passed strangely in his daze, but there was something... sweet, about watching her, eclipsing the setting sun with soft curls of red hair. She lacked his efficiency, but for some reason that didn't frustrate him as much as it endeared him.

And for some reason, he felt like he wanted to cry. It bubbled in the bottom of his throat, but was swallowed the next time he dropped off.

When Anna came to sit next to him, his head lifted a bit, eyes bleary under the brim of his hat.

Cooper tilted his head to rest it on her shoulder. And then, quietly, finally: "...'M proud of you."

“You’re going to make me cry,” she replied softly, leaning her head against his, her voice sticking enough to prove her words right. It was the last straw, really. The unexpected praise breaking down the dam that she’d been so carefully holding up since before they’d even gotten back to New Vegas.

The stress, fear, and heartbreak all poured out as she pulled away to keep from crying all over his hat and maybe try to keep some pointless sense of dignity. The feeling that hurt the most, though, was the relief. Relief that it was over and relief that she was finally free after so long. The guilt of feeling that relief was painful enough to pull a sob out from her.

It took effort to keep himself upright when she pulled away, but he had at least enough strength left in him to do that. Cooper wasn't exactly the type to offer comfort, as she'd well learned over her time with this Cooper. But any cruel remarks or icy indifference was... not there.

Instead, he reached a hand out to rest on her shoulder as that sob wracked her. His eyes were closed, head tilted back. He didn't speak, but the hand hopefully got his point across.

The hand on her shoulder was more comforting than any words could have been in that moment, if only because it brought less attention to her embarrassing display of emotions. She hated crying in front of anyone, especially with her ugly sobbing as all of her bottled up pain finally came to the surface.

She stayed like that for god knows how long, crying until she didn’t have anything left in her.

Cooper's hand never left her shoulder, rough leather sturdy against the softer satin of her blouse. But he'd come a bit closer this time, enough to rest his cheek on her back as she folded over herself to cry. A loose embrace, a touch of contact, a silent assurance that he wasn't going anywhere.

And he fell asleep like that, finally overwhelmed from an exhausting few days caught up.

But even still... that hand didn't move.

Exhaustion hit her once the tears finally ran out and she sunk even deeper into her knees, just sitting like that, focusing on Cooper’s steady breathing and mirroring it to help bring herself back to reality.