Chapter Text
The sound of a knob turning wakes Arthur up.
He wasn’t asleep in the first place, but he’d drifted a little under the lingering effects of Med-X, his own exhaustion, and the late hour. His brain buzzes anew with nerves, the noise seeming so much louder in the still quiet of the night. His left hand reaches toward his nightstand on instinct, but his fingers never curl around the knife they seek out. The IV tube is jostled by the movement, causing a few soft metallic clicking noises from the stand.
The Lone Wanderer steps into his room. Arthur recognizes her silhouette in the dim light cast from the hallway. She closes the door behind her with her fingers on the latch to ensure that it slides in as quietly as possible.
“Hey,” she says.
“Hey,” he says back.
They smile at each other. Riley looks just as nervous as Arthur feels, and it’s reassuring to know that he’s meant to be uncertain. So much of his life has revolved around stomping out hesitation, ensuring that he always knows the right thing to do. The first true decision of his life is mired in conflicting feelings, almost as though that’s the way things should be.
“Are you still groggy?” Riley whispers, and he shakes his head. Her appearance has sent him into sharp wakefulness. He feels like he could run from the Citadel to Megaton. She carefully peels back the medical tape holding down the IV needle, then eases the needle out. A cotton ball and more tape encloses the puncture to prevent bleeding. She hesitates for a moment, then lays her fingertips on his jaw, and Arthur turns his head so that she can inspect the stitches criss-crossing his cheek. Evidently satisfied with what she sees, Riley steps back.
Arthur climbs out of bed, still in his sleeping shirt and pants. It would have been nice to shower beforehand, but there’s no time for luxuries like that. He has to change clothes, grab the few items he hasn’t been able to pack yet, find his gun—
“You get dressed. Anything else you need to take with you?” Riley asks. Arthur points her in the direction of his desk, where there’s some holotapes and notebooks. He can hear the grimace in her voice when she opens a drawer and finds it full of paper.
“Arty, I’m sorry, but you can’t take all of this.”
“I know, it’s just the red notebook and the holotapes,” he tells her as he pulls his shirt over his head. By the time he has his pants on, Riley has the stack on his bed to check. Everything he needs is there, and she stuffs it into his backpack as he laces up his boots. His arm still stings and shoots pain up to his shoulder, but it’s much more bearable now. His fingers have the dexterity to twist and turn, thankfully.
“I need my gun.”
“Don’t take your laser pistol. I have a gun for you,” replies Riley, and she pulls out a weathered-looking 10mm pistol. “Don’t use it unless you need to, and don’t—”
“—point it at anything I don’t intend to kill, yeah. I know.”
She smiles. “Good kid.”
Arthur rolls his eyes.
In the hallway, Arthur looks sadly at the knight slumped against the wall. His rifle is gone, likely hidden somewhere by Riley.
“He’s not—”
“No. He’ll have a horrible headache tomorrow, but it won’t kill him.”
Arthur likes Knight Danse, would consider him a friend, but he simply couldn’t be trusted. Nobody in the Brotherhood could, according to Riley. If Arthur let it slip to anyone at all, the whole plan would fall apart. That meant no saying goodbye, no dropping hints, no leaving notes. A messy split, but a necessary one. Riley interrupts his thoughts by pressing a stealth boy into his hands, and puts one finger to her lips.
They have to use it once they get into the bailey, and Arthur holds his breath as a patrolling soldier gets almost close enough to touch. They wait by the entrance for the guards to swap, and Riley pushes Arthur through with the noise covered up by the heavy footfalls of power armor. Once they’re out, they continue walking along the perimeter of the Citadel until they run out of wall to hide against.
“ Run ,” Riley orders him, and Arthur has never been so happy to obey a command in his life.