It had been two hours since she had died and Butch couldn't stop howling. Jericho had stuck him with at least three times the safe dose of Med-X and still he could not stop.
It hadn't been a pretty death. It wasn't a melodramatic, heroic leap in front of a bullet that left her dying in Butch's arms, telling him to go on with his life. It was an ugly, messy, sudden end that kept Butch screaming so long and loud that his throat bled.
Nobody deserved to be torn apart by a pack of Trogs. They'd been pinned down in The Pitt's steelyard, their ammo dwindling and time running out as the monsters threw themselves against the fragile gate they had locked themselves behind.
She'd passed around Stealth Boys, but there had only been three. Charon insisted she take his and she'd simply ordered him to use it, a sad smile on her face.
"Get out of here.' She said, a hand resting on the Ghoul's worn cheek "I'll distract them and you'll be able to get away before the Stealth Boys wear off."
Butch and Jericho had both protested, but she had shaken her head. Her hands shook too as she hugged them, but she didn't cry. She never cried…
The second their Stealth Boys activated, the gate broke and the creatures swarmed in. She'd cleared a path for them with her rifle and they'd run for their lives. For a few moments, Butch had thought she was running close behind him, but when he'd turned…
He'd never forget the look in her eyes as the creatures pounced.
He'd never forget the screams… He'd never forget the blood and the sounds they made as they tore her apart…
Butch began to scream even louder and Jericho kicked him in the face.
Waking many hours later, his face swollen and tasting blood, Butch couldn't clearly remember what had happened. He'd asked for her and when he had seen the look in Charon's eyes, the tears came. This time they fell silently as Butch curled himself into a ball, too full of grief to speak or move…
Days later, he got up and for a moment could only gaze around the room at her possessions. Butch then dragged himself out the door with not so much as a glance at his housemates and made his way to the bathrooms where he lay back in a tub full of cold, irradiated water…
Suddenly it was a week since she'd been gone and Butch still hadn't said a word. He slept and ate and bathed mechanically, falling into a strict ritual that never changed for any reason. Eventually Charon packed his gear and left, presumably for Underworld, without saying goodbye. Then Jericho tried to head out on his own and nobody heard from him until a week later when he dragged himself through Megaton's front gate, broken and bleeding. He returned to his own house and Butch was left with nobody but the dog and memories of her…
Weeks crept into months and Butch rarely left the house, only to use the bathrooms or to buy food. The caps they had made together probably wouldn't run out for a while, he thought vaguely. And even then, he'd just sell a plasma rifle or two. He knew he wouldn't need a weapon again. The dog mostly sat by the front door, a forlorn look in his bi-coloured eyes as he finally began to give up hope that she would come home. Butch stroked his soft fur absently and dumped a Salisbury steak into his bowl…
Had it actually been a year? Time didn't have much meaning for Butch anymore. Nothing really did. He couldn't recall if he'd shed a tear when the dog had died. He remembered coming downstairs one day to find him in his usual place by the door, but one look told Butch that he was gone. He'd shown no signs of illness, and so the former Tunnel Snake concluded that he'd just given up on living. Butch wondered why he couldn't do that. It was enviable, really…
Perhaps another year passed and Butch looked up at the sound of a knock on his door. He opened it and was pushed right of his feet as Ellen DeLoria launched herself at her son, enveloping him in a bear hug. He stared at his weeping mother in confusion and then looked up as someone else entered the house.
"Hello Butch." Amata said, smiling down at him…
Ten years had passed and Butch was no longer alone. He told his children tales of his adventures with the Lone Wanderer, constantly earning a scolding from his mother for scaring them. Amata always smiled knowingly, and placed an understanding hand on his shoulder. Both parents wished for their children to grow into a world where everything she had fought for was a reality…
It still hurt a little, but Butch would always remember her. It had been a long time coming, but he had been given the strength to live on. And so long as her memory remained, so long as the world continued to grow towards peace and prosperity, Butch knew that truly, he could never be without her.
I wish I could stop writing about death! I will try to make the next one happy… Also, I know. You can't run with Stealth Boys on, or you'll get spotted but shhhh… :D
