They move through Arizona. The Legion ignores them, and some of the recent recruits fear Israel. The call him a crackling demon because of his armor, and it gives them leeway to move freely. They have not incurred the wrath of Caesar. They have not even been noticed by Caesar. That suits them just fine.
James listens to his Pip-Boy radio every night, missing the sound of Three Dog's voice. Israel knows what he hopes to hear, and doesn't have the heart to tell him he will probably never hear it again. So he gets James to talk.
"Why are you always fiddling with that thing?" he asks gruffly, knowing full well the why of it, but hoping to ease his friend's pain. James smiles serenely, and Israel can see a hint of the man James used to look like.
"I'm listening for her," he says, turning the knob to another frequency. "I saw her once, after she turned on the purifier. I was in the late stages of radiation sickness. My skin was flaking off, exposing the soft muscle underneath."
"Soft? You let that Vault turn you into a pansy?" Israel snorts. James nods.
"There was no reason to fight in there. It wasn't perfect, but it provided a good home for my daughter." After a pause, he adds, "I hated it in there." Israel laughs, motioning for him to continue. "She had just woken up. The radiation knocked her out, just as it had done to me." He smiles sadly, stirring the embers of the slowly fading fire. "It might be a bit longer, and take a little more radiation, but she'll probably end up like her old man if she doesn't die before then."
"And you're looking for her?" Israel gently prompts. James nods, shaking himself out of his sad thoughts.
"Yes. I didn't approach her. I," he pauses, looking toward the dark horizon. "I didn't want to complicate things. She seemed so happy. She's grown up, and she doesn't need me anymore. And, selfishly, I didn't want her to see me like this." He resignedly looks down at his decayed hand, flexing the fingers. Israel nods, and doesn't press for anymore. James continues to search through the radio stations for any news at all. A crackling voice cutting in and out proclaims,
"A package Courier found shot in the head outside of Goodsprings has recovered. She seems to be doing fine, but only time will tell. This is Mr. New Vegas, wishing you lady-like luck tonight." Distorted music begins to jingle, and Israel can make out the words to Blue Moon.
James turns his radio off, but there is a glimmer of hope in his eyes that Israel isn't willing to extinguish.