Chapter Text
She is still wearing her prisoner jumpsuit, so going to a nearby settlement isn't an option. She isn't even sure of where she is. It could be deep into Arizona or somewhere in the Mojave. Fuck, she could be in New Reno for all she knew. She was from California, and had lived into NCR protected lands all her life. For a small second, she thinks of walking back home. Of just looking at the sun, and going West. But she was a criminal still. There was no life for her in California. Not anymore.
She looks over her shoulders, and spots the Hanged Man, shadowing her. He refused to tell her of his name. In fact, he refused to acknowledge her beyond the fact that he will follow her.
The day before, he had cried on her lap, like a child, and after he was done, he wiped his tears and crawled to a distant corner of the shack they were in. She tried asking him questions, his name, where they were, if he could leave her alone. All she got in return was silence. He only looked at her, when she looked away. She could see him, from the corner of her eyes, staring at her with an intensity that didn't fit a man that almost died.
Out of nowhere, a small raider party jumps them. She scrambles to pick up her ding 9mm. And it's horrified by how her bullets don't seem to land. It had been so easy to save him. Now, she can't even save herself. The Hanged Man doesn't seem to have the same problem.
He screams like a feral ghoul as he charges at the raiders. They were lucky, that all the raiders had were bats, and knives. He tackles one, and wrestles the knife out of their hands with ease. Then he proceeds to headbut the raider until their face was a bloody mess. The noise is sickening, and the other three raiders in the party seem scared of the rabid man who laid waste to their companion. Their fear is not enough to protect them. They all fall, one after the other. She sees one of them stick their knife into the Hanged Man's shoulder, but it doesn't matter in the end. They are strangled by the bloodied hands that beat their companions to death. It's a blood feast. And she has a front row seat to it all.
When they're all dead, he turns to her, and looks her in the eyes. There is no shame in his posture, no pride either. It's like the violence around him never happened. She watches him in silence. There was blood dripping from his hair line, maybe his or the raider he brained to death. It makes his scared face even more horrible. She tried to be scared of the sight in front of her, she should be scared, but she was just confused. She could have ran. She could've ran while he was busy with the raiders.
She does the opposite of running. She lifts her hand in a sign of peace, of surrender, and slowly steps up to him. He doesn't move away from her, and just stares, and she touches around the knife, and sees it isn't deep, just stuck at an odd angle.
"How are you alive?" He doesn't answer, he just tilts his head to look at her better. She steps back, and thinks to look for something in the raider's pockets to help with his wounds, when his hand comes to rest on her arm.
His fingers are almost over the bruise marks she had on her wrist, bruises that he left there himself. But his touch is light, not the forbidden touch of their meeting.
"Let me look for medicine, or at least something to stop the blood when I remove the knife." She doesn't smile at him, as did for the NCR soldiers she used to treat, but she offers him the last of her trust.
For criminals like her, this was the only thing left to hope for. Companionship from another criminal. It was just like prison, but so much better. The sun was shining, bright and merciless. But she was alive to see it. Her companion was a wild man, covered in blood, but she was sane enough to treat him.
Eventually, he lets go of her arm, and she searches for anything to help him. This time, it was her that guided him to sit on the ground, no matter that they were in the middle of nowhere. She even puts her 9mm in his hands. She makes quick work, and stabs his shoulder with a med-x needle, before removing the knife. It is only when she presses a somewhat clean rag over the stab wound that his nose scrunched in pain.
"Chems don't work on me." She nods at that, but not really paying attention. With the hand not busy with the rag, she clicks a lighter. A keepsake that she actually acquired in prison. She removes the rag, and burns the open mouth of his stab wound, blood and all. He only hisses as she crudely closes his wound.
The sun begging to set over the horizon, and as the cold wind drags a dust wave, she shivers in preparation of the cold night to come. Her companion is silent as she picks clean the raiders around them, but his eyes never leave her. One raider had a jacket tied around their waist, there is some blood on it, but it looks old, all dried up, so she takes it for herself. There is another jacket, this one is dirtier, but it's bigger, so she throws it at the Hanged Man's crossed legs on the ground.
"Tell me where you want to go, Savior. And I will take you there." She looks up from the bullet satchel one raider had at their hip, and this time, she smiles at him.
"I wanna go West." Her smile is true. She allows herself this small moment of hope. She wants to go West. She wants to go home. Consequences be dammed.