Lucy & Cooper: Eye to Eye
A/N: So short but needed it out of my head. Vague spoilers for the end of Fallout's first season, so be aware.
L & C: Eye to Eye
Vaultie doesn’t talk much for the first couple of days.
Coop tries not to dwell on it—lot easier for him, lot safer for them, if she keeps her mouth shut. Just…well, hell, it’s one of those things that niggles at him, twitching in the back of his mind like a worm on a hook. Dumb fuckin’ fish that he is, Coop lets it draw him in.
The ghoul gives her a once-over as they settle in for the night. Blood’s still crusted on her uniform, near the corner of her mouth, some of it flecked into her hair. A mottled bruise stretches across her cheek and up over her temple, purple at its center before paling to yellows and greens on the edges. Coop knows it hurts, but Vaultie doesn’t say shit.
A noose and a prolonged stay on death’s door, dehydration, and irradiation hadn’t shut her up, but she’s sitting there, staring into the fire, all banged up and silent.
Cooper chews a sardine ponderously. There’s no taste, not anymore, just the tension of flesh and little bones giving way beneath his teeth. He grunts before sliding the rest of the tray across to her. Vaultie doesn’t take it. He clucks his tongue. “Eat when then eatin’ is good, Vaultie. Get deeper into the Wastes and…well.” he shrugs as if the silence should be all the answer she needs. And it should be, but she just goes on staring with her huge doe eyes.
“I’m not hungry.” Almost as an afterthought, she adds. “Thank you.”
“Do what you like. You’re a big girl. And I ain’t your daddy.”
The phrase jostles something in her head. Vaultie’s whole face screws up—nose scrunching, lips curling—and she opens her mouth as if to speak, only for it to snap shut. A muscle twitches in the corner of her mouth and it’s…it’s a hell of a thing.
He doesn’t see his daughter in her face…doesn’t see Barb. He’s looking in a mirror. It’s two centuries ago, and he’s staring at himself—all offended dignity as he reads something unsavory in a script or listens to a suit wax philosophical about a battlefield they’ll never see.
Vaultie must clock something about his reaction. All the stiffness leaves her posture. She just…deflates, eyes dropping. “I know that,” she says, voice soft. Not the “let me de-escalate this situation” bullshit she’d put on in Filly…just human. Very human and so tired. “I’m sorry—it was wrong of me to snap at you.”
Coop almost laughs. He holds his arms out wide instead. “No harm done.”
She goes back to her staring, back to her silence. Something howls off in the distance.
Out of nowhere, and because it’s all just fuckin’ disorienting—the silence, having somebody around again—the ghoul says, “Reckon you’ll kill him?”
“Excuse me?”
He picks nonexistent grit out of his teeth and spits. “Think you know exactly who I mean, sweetheart.” Vaultie cocks her head to the side. Firelight licks at her skin—it makes his hard lines harder, edges more jagged, but for her? She looks soft and young…a gross oversimplification. There’s steel in her eyes. Coop shrugs, flashing a smile that must look horrible. She doesn’t shrink back. “You find it offends your finer sensibilities and I’ll do it for ya.”
“No.” Her tone leaves no room for debate.
“Vaultie, that’s not a word I’m in the habit of hearing.”
“It’s Lucy,” she corrects. “And I…said what I said.” The girl hugs her arms around herself. “He’s still my dad. I don’t want him…” Vau..Lucy pauses. Her brow furrows, “...Well, I guess I don’t know what I want yet. But…I have time.”
“Less and less of it every day.”
She screws up her nose again. “Maybe. But it’s my choice.” It’s the damnedest thing: the words just hang there for a second, silence broken by the crackle of the fire. And then she seems to actively register what she’s said. It’s Lucy MacLean’s choice. She smiles and nods—brilliant and bloodied and somehow still clean. “But…thank you for offering.”
Like he’s suggested giving up his seat on the bus and not filling her daddy full of lead. Fuckin’ Vaulties…Coop shakes his head, “Anytime, sweetheart.”
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the only person who was actually right about the world and human nature was Max striner everyone else is a fucking moron
Striner? I hardly know 'er!
Anyways, I'm not a philosophy expert. I'm just some guy. I like the egoist belief that there isn't a universal moral truth. I like the absurdist belief that, because nothing matters, we should be radically sincere. I like the christian belief in a place without suffering after this life. I like the Universal Random Number Generator idea my therapist and I talk about
All of them have their flaws though. Egoism gets used to condemn social movements and civil rights advocacy. Absurdism and the RNG can create a sense of existential dread and a loss of motivation. Christianity encourages the loss of identity and free will
I'm just some psych student with a weird ass therapist that understands my weird ass brain. He encouraged me to look into absurdism since I took a class on absurdist literature my freshman year of college and he said I might enjoy looking into the actual philosophy. And I do! At least a lot of it! I like the idea of a chaotic universe and us humans trying our best to control it. I like the idea of letting that go and living authentically instead of with a direct purpose. There's chaos and mayhem and entropy and I'm just here to react to it. And I can react in ways that makes others happier if I wanted just because I can
Egoism/egotism feels too disconnected from the human need to connect to me. It traps me into that feeling that doing something good for someone is selfish if you're doing it to feel good. I'm actively working to get out of that spiral Christianity put me in now
I don't know, though, anon. I'm just some college student with an ex-christian tumblr blog and a lot of trauma. I like to believe there's some Universe-sized Abstract Computer with a random number generator that causes the chaos we call home. I skim wiki pages and reddit posts and decided if I want to engage any further/look for textbooks. I could possibly be looking at the wrong page about the wrong philosophy. I'm honestly just on this earthly plane for the bit
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Man, I'm still bothered by DTAMHD last night. Afterwards, I had to watch MFHP (I watched the dance 3 times) just to remind myself that once upon a time, Sunny actually took serious risks for character growth. Like, i just sat there, crying with my wine, saying "Remember when they fucking did that".
I hoped it would make me feel better about the prospect of Dennis' possible growth in the far off future, but honestly, the more I ruminate on it, the less invested I feel. Dennis isn't going to get that moment. I think RCG have related Dennis too much to their shitty fans (you know which ones I'm talking about), that they've decided he gets no emotional relief. (Which is so fucking counterproductive and harmful, because we are fucking constrained by a patriarchy that is getting worse and more controlling, filled with men who Dennis embodies, and it's just going to get even worse until those assholes get therapy.) Point being, giving up on Dennis' character growth will mean more harm than good for Sunny.
I literally woke up in a bad mood thinking about watching the ep last night. I even took today off (because it's my bday) to re-watch and analyze. But I just can't get myself to. I've rewatched every single episode of S16, at least 3 times each (even TGGB-which was painful), but I'm too letdown to watch DTAMHD a second time.
Maybe I'm coming across as a bit dramatic, but DTAMHD just confirmed my biggest fear that Dennis will never get that same chance to grow. His character is who he is, and he won't ever be held accountable for his actions, and he'll never acknowledge the fucked up trauma that he's gone through.
Great! Thanks, I hate it. Worst birthday present ever.
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