Chapter Text
The main office of the Crimson Caravan’s Mojave headquarters is a stifling little building. It sits just off the freeway leading into central Vegas, so close that the looming Lucky 38 might even cast an evening shadow over the settlement.
As it is now, in the heat of the late afternoon, the sun shines through the nearly stagnant dust suspended in the muggy air. Half a dozen young women sit behind their desks, staring at terminals or reading through stacks of trade logs and filling the room with the sounds of clicking keyboards and shuffling papers. Behind a closed door, the bossman – Dean or Don or something – drones on about a contract dispute with some other idiot. Only about every sixth word is decipherable.
Cooper sits rigid in the chair he was told to wait in, going on about an hour ago. The stiff atmosphere in the room is driving him up a wall, and it’s so hot and stuffy that even he might be starting to sweat beneath his shirt collar. Would it kill them to open fucking window? He’s on the verge of stomping over to one and throwing it open himself. Instead, he grips the armrests so hard his knuckles are popping.
Lucy is just as antsy, if the rabbit-quick thumping of her bootheel against the floorboards is anything to go by. Cooper thinks about resting his palm over her knee in an attempt to calm her nerves. He also thinks about licking the bead of sweat that gathers on her temple and slowly slides its way down her neck. He does neither of course. Not the latter, because he’s pretty sure their audience of dead-eyed secretaries wouldn’t appreciate it, and not the former, because Lucy hasn’t seemed like she’s wanted to touch him with a ten foot pole since yesterday morning.
Even now, she’s leaning heavily on the armrest opposite to him, her eyes locked in an unfocused gaze at a small wiry wastebin sitting against the wall. It’s been nearly an hour, and she hasn’t looked at him once.
Cooper’s grip tightens further. The wood creaks.
Thankfully, Don or Dean’s office door is thrown open, the employee or client with the complaint storms through and out of the building, muttering curses under his breath.
“Mr. Hostetler will see you now,” one of the secretaries drones, motioning towards the office.
Cooper releases a deep huff of relief and rises from the chair. He doesn’t check to see if Lucy follows him, but he can feel her presence at his back anyway. In the room, a steel nameplate reading ‘Don’ in carefully scratched block letters sits on the edge of the desk. The man himself, wearing a faded, crumpled fedora, types slowly at his terminal, holding up a finger at the arrival of his new guests.
Don forces a few more moments of tense silence on them, during which Cooper believes he demonstrates an exemplary amount of self control, considering the man remains unstrangled. Soon, but not nearly soon enough, he switches off the terminal and leans back into his cushy chair to appraise the two of them.
“Now, who did you say you were again?” Cooper greets, putting on his most obstinate grin.
“I’m Don Hostetler.” The man frowns, and gestures down to the nameplate. “Who are you?”
Cooper cuts straight to the point. “We’re here to collect on a bounty.”
Don blinks, then swivels around in his chair to grab a stuffed folder. At least he doesn’t seem to be one for small talk either. “Which one?”
“Legion fella. Went by the name of Remus.”
The man hums, flicking through papers one at a time and at a completely unhurried pace. It takes what must be a full two minutes before he glances up uninterestedly. “Proof?”
Cooper does turn towards Lucy, who’s looking down at the floor stubbornly. He nudges her with his toe, and she immediately throws an elbow into his arm. Don raises a curious eyebrow at them, but Lucy soon digs around in her pocket and pulls out Remus’ golden earring to hand over the Caravan leader.
She hadn’t been happy about that. Before leaving Novac, Cooper had done his due diligence, asking around to see if any of the mercenaries had looted it off the legionary’s body. None of them had any clue what he’d been talking about, which likely meant the earring ended up in the possession of the boy’s twin.
He found the brother – Rome, he has since learned – sitting on the motel porch with Lucy, who staunchly avoided Cooper’s gaze, at least until he point blank asked the kid to hand over the earring. That earned Cooper all kinds of glares from her, apparently baffled that he’d have to gall to ask for the keepsake that they could finally turn in for the bounty. He thought that was just a smidge hypocritical of her, considering that just a few days ago, she’d been ready to shoot the kid for less.
Cooper didn’t say any of that though. Really, he’d been bitterly pleased to be on the receiving end of anything other than Lucy’s strange, cold avoidance. Once Cooper explained the situation, Rome reluctantly but willingly surrendered his dead brother’s earring in support of the cause. Lucy insisted on being the one to hold onto it, and she went right back to ignoring Cooper once the matter had been settled.
“Hmmm.” Don scrutinizes the earring and compares it to whatever is written or drawn inside the folder. “Angie!” he shouts. The office door is thrown open by an expectant secretary. “Sweet cheeks, can you get these fine folks their caps… Five thousand of them.”
Cooper blinks. Well, that was a hell of a lot easier than it usually is.
The secretary blushes and nods, then quietly shuts the door again. In the resulting silence, Lucy steps determinedly towards Don’s desk. “Sir, is it alright if we–”
“We’re keeping the earring,” Cooper interrupts, not in the mood for a lengthy bout of vaultie-style negotiation.
Don cocks his head to the side, absently twiddling the piece of gold jewelry between his fingers. “Why?”
“It’s her first bounty. She wants the trophy,” Cooper nods towards Lucy, the lie close enough to the truth that it falls from his lips with ease. He notices her tense up, but Don is none the wiser.
“It’s solid gold, ghoul,” the man observes, staring pensively at the earring. “Worth quite a lot, you know.”
Cooper rolls his eyes. “Knock a hundred caps off the reward then. I don’t give a fuck. We’re keeping it.”
Don plays hard to get for another moment or so, but soon he laughs heartily and tosses the earring at Lucy. “Here you go, sugar.” She catches it with fumbling, surprised hands. “And if you’re ever looking for work that’s a little more suited for a fine young lady such as yourself, you come see me. We all enjoy a fresh face around here.”
The man’s eyes drag up and down Lucy’s body, lingering far, far too long for Cooper’s tastes. He nearly growls at the man, but Lucy just brushes off the lascivious comment and moves on. “Oh, um. Thank you, sir. I quite enjoy bounty hunting, actually. At least for the time being. But, you could tell us if there’s still a credit check to get into Vegas?”
Don scoffs. “The credit check has been eliminated for almost fifteen years. You need a passport even to get into Freeside these days. A scourge on free trade, if you ask me.”
“And where can we get those?”
“I could sell them to you. Two thousand caps a pop.”
Lucy winces. “Is there anything cheaper?”
“Well, now. You could apply through the official channels, but I hear it takes several weeks to process.” Don’s face melts into a shiteating grin. He knows he has them. “With the Legion out and about again, there’s a high volume of wastelanders looking to get into Vegas."
Cooper narrows his eyes at the man, reconsidering the urge to strangle him. He hates assholes like this – stepping on anyone and everyone just to get a leg up. Half of this Legion bullshit is probably his fault – they’d have much less of a foothold in the Mojave if the Caravan weren’t dealing with them.
He glances sideways and finds Lucy looking back at him with a heavy air of apologetic guilt. It sort of makes Cooper want to strangle her too, but in a sort of frustrated, confused, mostly affectionate way. It’s not a new feeling – not even close – but it’s returning to the forefront of his mind with a vengeance.
They both know exactly what this means. It isn’t hard to do the math. This little wastelanding party has nearly doubled in size. If taking in a mutant dog and a vaultie princess had gotten under Cooper’s skin, then he’s not sure he has the words to describe how adding an ex-legionary kid and a spineless Vault-Tec minion makes him feel.
His life has gotten so goddamn stupid.
Cooper watches as Lucy’s eyes flick back and forth, likely coming up with a dozen ways she can use this little roadblock to get herself as far away from him as possible. If he could still remember what’s good for him, Cooper might let her. But that ship has long sailed.
Cooper works his jaw and shoots one last silent glare at Lucy before turning back to face Don Hostetler. “You got any more jobs around here?”
The man grins. “Well, now that you mention it…”
***
Cooper isn’t sure what he thought would happen, the morning after Lucy rescued him from the Legion encampment.
He’d woken up still feeling the effects of the previous night’s whiplash. To say he had been perturbed by her behavior would be putting it lightly. Earlier in the day, she had collapsed into his embrace like it had been painful not to be there, then she slept in the chair. She nuzzled into his neck and bit at his flesh like she couldn’t get enough, then she refused to call him anything other than Tex. She pulled his arm around her waist and slept soundly next to him, then she woke him up with eyes so gaunt he half expected her to be dragging him to the gallows.
“I have to show you something,” Lucy stated, nearly emotionless. She stood beside the bed, already dressed for the day and stiff as a board.
Cooper gathered his effects while she waited by the door with her arms crossed and her eyes trained on the floor. He desperately missed the Lucy from last night – the one who’d gazed at him fondly and touched him surely. Even the strangely distant Lucy she’d transformed into later in the evening was gone. This new version of her was completely aloof. The only thing that betrayed her nerves was the pink mark below her lip, rubbed raw from her teeth.
He would have asked her what the fuck was going on, if he thought she would have answered.
At least Lucy didn’t seem all that interested in keeping him in suspense. As soon as Cooper had re-kitted himself, Lucy threw open the motel door and led him across the porch and down the stairs. She stopped in front of another room, and Cooper briefly wondered if they were about to go visit the kid.
Her hand paused on the doorknob, and they both stared at it for several seconds before Cooper couldn’t take it anymore. “You’re killin’ me here, sweetheart.”
Lucy sniffed and glanced back at him. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner.”
From within the closed room, Cooper heard someone mutter a responding, “Lucy?” A voice he most definitely recognized, but even still, the last thing he expected to see when Lucy finally pushed open the door was young Henry MacLean, chained to the floor.
Cooper paced into the room on instinct, his brain kicking into overdrive along with his heart rate. A dozen questions fought for the chance to be asked, sharp in his mouth like the tang of blood. But Cooper bit them back for a moment longer and turned to Lucy, still standing in the doorway, her eyes filled with a dozen emotions he couldn’t begin to name. For a moment, she only stared back at him. Then she gave him one last sad smile and shut him into the room, alone with her father.
Every one of Cooper’s concerns regarding Lucy momentarily leapt from his mind. He stared down at Henry MacLean, glaring up from where he was hunched over his bound hands. Cooper could scarcely believe he was sitting there with the man. After about a month of searching and more than two hundred years before that, he was closer than ever.
“Well, well, well, here we are again Young Henry,” he drawled. Blood pulsed hot and steady through his veins. He pulled over the single chair in the room to sit himself directly in front of Lucy’s father. “I think you already know what I’m going to ask.”
Henry refused to answer right away, but that was to be expected. “What did you do to her?” he seethed instead.
Cooper laughed. “Who? You mean that little vaultie outside?”
“You took her. You kidnapped her and then brainwashed her too.”
“I ain’t done no kidnappin’ of nobody. And pretty sure you can take credit for all her brainwashing.”
That last comment caught Henry off guard for a moment, but he promptly ignored it in favor of throwing more accusations. “You’re making her do this. She wouldn’t do this to me. We’re going back to the vault.”
Cooper rolled his eyes. He grabbed the ropes binding Henry’s hands together and tugged the man upwards so they were face to face. He hid it well, but that close, Cooper could see the fear lingering behind his eyes. A fear that wasn’t entirely due to Cooper’s own intimidation tactics. He would have to ask Lucy what she said to him. “Lookie here, Henry. Your daughter goes where she pleases and does whatever the fuck she wants.” Mostly true, at least it was ever since the observatory. “Hell, I fuckin’ wish she’d listen to me more. So if you got an issue with how things are going, you can take it up with her. Got it?”
Henry swallowed audibly and gave a hesitant nod. Cooper grinned and shoved him back on the ground.
“Now, where were we? Oh, I do believe you were about to tell me exactly why you ran all the way out here.”
Young Henry proceeded to prove that he was both a bonafide treasure trove of relevant information and an ineffectual coward.
Back in Vault 33, the last terminal logs indicated that Barbara Turner née Howard and Jane Howard had been moved from Vault 31’s cryo chambers to some ultra top secret, biometrically sealed vault beneath the Lucky 38. That had happened about fifty years ago. No, Henry didn’t know why they were moved, and no, he didn’t know if the two had been unfrozen before that or how long they’d spent awake since the bombs dropped.
His only instructions were to open the vault and wake Barb in the event of a catastrophic loss of capital. How exactly Vault-Tec let the cold fusion technology fall into the hands of the Enclave in the first place, Cooper neither knew nor cared. The Brotherhood had it now, which meant Barb needed to be consulted, but the Lucky 38 no longer belonged to Robert House. Some mailman was posted up there now, and Henry had run at the first sign of trouble – apparently hoping he would run into Lucy, and they could prance back to the vault where he could stew in his guilt and watch his kids live their own corporate-approved happily ever afters.
As long as the bastard wasn’t lying through his teeth, Janey was sitting safely in some basement, only a two days’ journey down the road. Even Cooper couldn’t stop the hope that swelled in his chest, and it rose far above both the fear and the dread that had been swirling there for too damn long.
Cooper was over the moon by the time he was walking out of the motel room. He needed to find Lucy. That damn girl had somehow delivered everything he ever wanted to him on a silver platter. He needed to wrap his arms around her, swing her around in a tight hug, and kiss her breathless. He shook his head. She was un-fucking-believable.
Lucy had made herself scarce, and it took the better part of an hour to figure out where she had gone off to. It had been easy to chalk up her avoidant behavior to the simple fear that he’d be mad with her for keeping Young Henry from him for a few hours. Cooper was the furthest thing from angry, but the longer he spent searching the decrepit little roadside town and surveying its residents, the more he came to realize that whatever was going on with Lucy was a lot more complicated than he realized. Cooper’s elation had long since waned by the time he did find her, sitting in the mouth of the dinosaur and staring out across the barren Mojave wasteland.
She had her knees bunched up to her chest and her arms coiled tightly around her shins. Cooper sat down cross-legged next to her and waited for her to say something, or at least fucking look at him. And when he got bored of that, he finally poked the bear. “How ‘bout you fill me in on the last few days, and maybe I’ll tell you about the chat I just had with your daddy.”
With a reluctant sigh, Lucy spilled all the details – the Legion kid and the cazadores and the helpful mercenaries in Novac. How running into her father had been a stroke of dumb luck more than anything. She explained it clinically, and so Cooper handed over his own information with the same level of detachment.
“So, you need my dad to get into the vault,” she surmised, once he had concluded his little speech.
“Looks that way.”
“Okay.” She nodded once, biting her lip. “We can come with you until then.”
He had to tamp down a spike of rage. We? Until then? Was she fucking serious?
Even though her eyes were glued to something off in the distance, Cooper hoped she could feel the daggers he was glaring into her skin. “And after?”
Lucy shrugged, still refusing to look at him. “I have to go back for my brother.”
A month ago, Cooper wouldn’t have batted an eye at that. It shouldn’t matter to him. She had served her purpose after all – with his daughter’s coercion, Young Henry sang like a canary. The Ghoul wouldn’t have given a rat’s ass whether or not Lucy MacLean wanted to slither back into the vault she came out from.
Fuck Cooper Howard for getting himself attached.
“Alright then,” he spat before rolling onto his feet. “Be ready to leave in two hours, vaultie.” He left Lucy there in the dinosaur’s maw, ignoring the way she flinched.
***
The Crimson Caravan has recently been getting a little too big for its britches, at least that’s what Don Hostetler tells them before sending them on their way.
So, the Caravan is in the market for a new headquarters, and there just so happens to be an abandoned high rise off the coast of Lake Las Vegas, sitting vacant since the NCR cleared out about a decade or so ago. Perfect size, perfect location, and perfectly unclaimed property – so long as you don’t count the deathclaw that’s been lurking in the lobby.
Cooper very nearly tells the Hostetler fellow to shove it where the sun don’t shine. He ordinarily avoids deathclaws like the plague, but the promise of seeing Janey again is too sweet to pass up. And god help him, but he’s not going to let Lucy start spewing some bullshit about waiting in the Vegas outskirts while he takes Daddy MacLean in all by his lonesome.
So, deathclaw hunting it is.
They arrive at the old NCR camp near the hotel by midmorning the next day. It’s nothing to write home about – just a circle of collapsing tents overlooking the lake. Lucy gawks at the scenery, probably dying to comment on the sheer amount of fresh water that’s just sitting in the middle of the desert.
She’s practically always hankering for another bath; a few of those Vault-Tec sensibilities of hers haven’t faded just yet. Cooper keeps waiting for her to ask how irradiated the water is (answer – hardly at all), but Lucy keeps a lid on her excitement and just quietly sips at her water. He watches her from beneath the brim of his hat, wondering if she’d finally crack were he to drag them a couple more miles down the road. Lake Mead has always been a sight to behold, even before the war.
Lucy’s gaze bounces back and forth between the view and her father, who they’ve tied up to an old flag pole. Young Henry sits with his ass in the sand and his arms pulled taut behind him, requesting that the kid give him a drink of water. Rome, with far too much kindness, squats down with his canteen and grants the man’s request.
Henry gulps the stuff down greedily, and then thanks the kid with all the false corporate politeness Cooper had learned to recognize long ago. Lucy is smiling softly to herself. Cooper rolls his eyes.
“Well, that’s enough sittin’ around for me,” he drawls, tying his canteen back to his belt and unholstering his gun. “Gonna go see if our little friend is home.”
He strides off towards the towering high rise, passing by Lucy and her gaping jaw. Quicker than he’d like, she shakes off her stupor and grabs him by the sleeve. “By yourself?”
Cooper turns and shakes her off. “Oh. You’re right, I almost forgot. Dogmeat’ll enjoy the exercise.” He gives a sharp whistle, and the dog pops up and comes to heel.
“What are you doing?” Lucy demands with a glare, voice so flat and angry that it doesn’t even sound like a question.
Cooper ignores her. “Rest of you will stay here and keep it down if you know what’s good for you. Be back in a few.”
She plants herself in his path. “I’m not staying here.”
He grabs her by both shoulders and moves her out of the way. “Yes, sweetheart, you are.”
“No, I’m not,” she scoffs, eyes burning with exasperated determination. “I need to learn how to survive up here, while I still can.”
To what fucking end? he wants to demand. She’s already seen everything between here and Los Angeles. She knows enough to get her and her daddy back into their little vault. In another month or so, she’ll probably be kicking her feet up on a plastic table after a nice day banging her wrench against a few pipes, sipping ice cold Nuka Cola and waiting for her new Vault-approved husband to stumble across the threshold. There’s no reason for her to be taking these risks.
Cooper grits his teeth, on the verge of blowing his lid, but entirely conscious of the little audience watching with rapt attention, not even a dozen yards away. “This is a deathclaw we’re talking about, honey. You got no fuckin’ idea what we’re up against.” He stares down at Lucy, who still hasn’t lost one iota of her scorching tenacity. “I’d sooner take the kid with me,” Cooper points over at Rome. “At least he’s been up here more than six weeks.”
The little legionary’s eyes go wide. He takes a nervous step backwards. “Um… I do not think–”
“I can handle myself,” Lucy insists, voice turning icy and distant. She kneels down and shoves her water canteen back into her pack.
Cooper sighs. “Look, Lucy–”
“Time is a wasting, Tex.” She stands and gives him one last glower before turning on her heel and stomping off towards the old hotel, rifle drawn and ready. Dogmeat, always none the wiser, trots happily after her.
“Tex?”
Cooper’s head turns towards the voice on a swivel, snapping to see Henry MacLean peering up at him, entirely too calculating and observant.
Cooper shifts his attention to the kid instead. “You’re going to stay here.”
Rome straightens and nods. “Yes, sir.” Maybe the boy has a soft heart, but at least he fucking listens.
Cooper stalks around the back of the flag pole Henry is tied to. He checks the restraints, hoping to avoid any escape attempts with Lucy not there to hold down the fort.
“You used to be one of her heroes, you know,” Henry says with an air of ominous nonchalance.
The man audibly gasps when the ropes tighten around his sore wrists. Cooper smirks. “Thought I told you to be quiet.”
“If she doesn’t already know who you are, she’ll figure it out, Cooper Howard.” Cooper rounds the fence post and glares down at the man, whose lips can’t seem to help but pinch into a foul grin. “I imagine she’ll be quite disappointed.”
Cooper growls and digs around in his pocket for a spare scrap of fabric that he shoves into the elder MacLean’s mouth and ties behind his head. Even bound and gagged as he is, Young Henry’s eyes are still alight with victory.
Cooper grabs the man by his thinning hair and yanks his neck backwards. “For whatever reason, your daughter wants to keep you alive,” he says evenly, directly into his ear. Cooper licks his lips and whispers the next bit with every ounce of malevolence he’d learned to wield. “I still haven’t decided if I’ll let her.”
A flash of fear ripples through Henry MacLean. It’ll have to be enough for now – Cooper can’t leave Lucy wandering around a deathclaw nest alone for too much longer. He lets the man go with one last brutal tug and turns away from him.
Rome had been standing to the side throughout the whole exchange, and he’s now looking at Cooper all too knowingly. “I also had a different name, once.”
Well, now Cooper is getting real fucking antsy to put a few bullets in something. And like the universe can hear his thoughts, a deep, screeching roar echoes across the wasteland.