CHAPTER THREE: THE SECRET OF CABOT HOUSE
Author's note: Warning for this chapter of various adult themes, potential trigger warnings - please be aware of the tags for this fic. This Chapter will get a little dark I'm afraid as we're truly stepping out into the Wasteland now.
00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Their 'rescue' by this Prydwen, the floating Brotherhood ship of doom, was going to take a little longer than expected so Jack had time for a quick pit stop back at the Castle with Sam to sort out a few things. It was strange; it wasn't a goodbye, not by half, but it did feel like a natural parting point, at least for the time being. He'd done everything he'd set out to; built up a protection and community, something to be proud of and trained the Minutemen up into a real fighting force. But even he knew he was just starting to stagnate here; he'd always been better at action.
The Brotherhood presented a new opportunity; wasn't that what he'd been looking for when he'd gone traipsing out into the Wastelands to 'help' settlements, back when it had all started? Sam had seen it of course, known he was getting twitchy, his damn General's stars weighing him down again. So Sam had done what she did best; she'd fixed the problem and given them both an out. One that even made it seem like they were doing the right thing by shoring up an alliance with the damn Brotherhood while actively looking for a way home. Or maybe he was just projecting his own thoughts onto her.
Not that he was giving up entirely on the Minutemen. Despite what Sam might want to think, he wasn't putting all his eggs in one basket; not the Brotherhood or the Minutemen, not even Sam and her renewed zeal to get them off this rock. As far as he was concerned this 'Army' business was a scouting mission into a potential allied camp. Figure out the lay of the land, any sizeable advantages and work out if their damn floating airship was going to be somewhere he wanted to stay. Sam had pretty much already cast her vote but for once in his life he was going to play it cautious now that he had something to protect again.
He tried to hand the General post back to Preston to keep warm in his absence and got the actual hat handed back to him instead.
"Keep it. General." Preston told him firmly. "We'll carry on what you started down here but you are the leader of the Minutemen. I'll be your Deputy until you're back. You need us, you call. Maybe you can talk some sense into the Brotherhood. Get them to get off their collective assess and help out once in a while. The Commonwealth could use a little fire-powered assistance." Preston grinned and pulled him into a hug; it was nice to see he'd softened somewhat since the stick in the mud Jack had met back in Concord. He was going to miss him more than he'd expected to, he realised grimly as they parted. He'd honestly thought the guy would take it harder but maybe he was used to people moving on out here. Or maybe he really did expect to see them again.
Sam had been quick to point out to their assembled Lieutenants, particularly Major Shaw who had scowled at them both the entire time in clear disappointment, that they weren't abandoning the fight for the Commonwealth. Hell, if they were going out there to wipe out Synths and Super-mutants along with feral ghouls, then that benefited every settlement they were working hard to build up and protect. He'd liked the idea of that better than cutting them loose which is how this still felt. The Minutemen had seemed happy with that although for the majority of the day he'd been hugged, slapped on the back and generally harangued into promises he had no idea he could keep. He wasn't entirely sure how, other than guilt, he'd been convinced to leave his precious Buddy the Beer-Bot behind. But he figured their need was greater and then he really would have a reason to visit. Eventually they'd been waved on their way. Jack turned away and swiped his eye for a moment, catching Sam looking at him, her eyes shining too.
"We're doing the right thing." she promised. "And if it doesn't work out, well, we know where to come." He nodded and draped an arm around her shoulder. He supposed he had pretty much the only thing he needed to take with him out here anyway.
On the way back from the Castle, through Central Boston, they took a little detour. Sam had picked up a signal that, according to the frequency she'd gotten from Scribe Haylen, was what the Recon Teams had used.
"You really think we can find their missing team when they failed?" he asked as they hotfooted it through some Feral infested town; his unease about this little field trip growing with every minute. They had a ride to catch after all. From the communication he got back, Danse had said they were on a hold for at least a week until pickup. They'd lost two days already going back to the Castle. Jack was kind of hoping to get back to Cambridge HQ before tomorrow.
"I'm not sure they even got much of a chance to look before they got driven out of town. Besides, it's not much of a detour." Sam had argued staring at her PipBoy. "Like it or not we need to earn our keep. If we can show up with more information about this lost patrol mission of theirs, I'm hoping that will score us big points with this Elder Maxson when he gets here."
He couldn't fault the logic. Or her navigation apparently. They came across a hot zone and as they got closer it became apparent that something like a small nuclear war had happened right in front of a building emblazoned with Med-Tek. There were power armour encased bodies quite literally fused to the floor. The remnants of one was broadcasting. Sam had prised the holotape loose and they'd listened as the lost Recon Team had split; nuking their armour to stop it from falling into the wrong hands out here.
"They were ambushed. This was Knight Varham of the Recon Team Artemis. I think this was their lost patrol." Sam sighed, staring around at the ruins. "You think any of them made it to the Military Bunker? The holotape forced a location ping on my Pib-Boy," she showed him. "Recon Bunker Theta." she confirmed, sending it to his. Jack glanced down at it with a sinking feeling.
"That's a day's hike there and back. We can't risk it." She didn't look convinced. "Sam, come on. We did what they couldn't and found what happened, and their likely location. We've even secured what's left of their gear. I say we take this back to the Brotherhood. If they want to do a flyby at the Bunker to see who's holed up there then they can. But this is where we get off."
Sam nodded and stood. "I suppose it was three years ago. If they've survived this long then they can survive a few more days. Plus there's no guarantee that after all this time they'd still be there." she admitted. "Fine. Let's go."
He grunted, amused again by the democracy he seemed to have found himself in despite the warzone this clearly was. But then chain of command was always going to be the first thing to go when he started trading for brownie points. Sam was particularly quiet as they made their way around the edge of Cambridge, looking for a path of least resistance. It seemed like in clearing out the ghoul population and the last Raider group, they'd left it wide open for another group of Raiders, the Rust Devils, with a tendency for explosives and robots; they'd mined the route back through. He'd taken one look at it and decided on an alternate route. Any alternative.
Which was of course when Sam decided to mention that there was another route in. Danse had told her about it but the team had abandoned it because it was too hairy. Apparently, a bunch of Super-mutants had taken up in an old partially constructed high-rise, armed to the teeth with heavy duty ranged weapons and explosives. They'd tried to get through that way following the same signal Sam had but from the opposite direction, with worse luck, before they'd had to retreat back to the Police HQ bunker. Sounds like that whole period had been FUBAR for them. No wonder Rhys had a chip on his shoulder a mile wide and Danse had been monosyllabic.
Jack rolled the idea around his mouth like a bad taste. He could see where her head was at and he didn't like it. "I thought you didn't like the idea of comparing dicks?" he muttered and she gave him a scandalised look. "Don't." he pointed at her. "I know your scheming face. You want to make Rhys look like a complete prat by walking up there and taking out the nest of Super-mutants that stumped his entire team out of what … spite?"
Sam shrugged, but she didn't deny it. "Jack, it's the fastest way back to the base. Which is also why they attempted it. We'd have to detour. I say we don't. You wanted to make a difference, well taking out these ugly bastards is making a difference."
"Yeah, to us if we get killed!" he snapped.
"He called me a whore …." she hissed clearly not over it, "… and a Synth." she added and he honestly wasn't sure which she thought was worse.
"Because you're beautiful, waaaay smarter than him and can undoubtedly kick his ass in a fair fight." he reminded her. "He's not used to that. It can throw a man." She gave him a dark look that he felt in his balls, as if she'd soundly kicked him. "I'm not defending him!" he threw his hands up in mock surrender. "I'm just saying it's understandable that you unnerve the crap out of him. That's why he thinks you're some super-human Synth." he declared, and because he liked his balls in this one shape. "Hell, when I first met you I thought you were too damn good to be true as well." He shook his head at her coy smirk.
"Nice save." she growled as she swept past him, her hand swatting his ass in a move he hadn't anticipated; he thought she'd go for the ribs. Jack smirked; she still had a thing for his ass. "But we need a win… something big and flashy. We can take them." she told him confidently. "Or have you forgotten that we used to take out entire alien spaceships with some C4 and a plucky attitude?"
He shook his head and looked heavenward as he followed her. "Why do you always have to make it a competition?" he sighed and followed, because she was right of course. They could totally do this.
They reached the construction building behind an old Mass Chemical factory. It was smack bang in the middle of a gang war between the Super-mutants and these Rust Devils. Or at least that was what one of the idiot Raiders, wearing a robot's head as a helmet, had informed them as he'd lain on the floor screaming from the foot Jack had managed to blow off when he'd tried to take his head off with a damn flaming sword. He looked like he was wearing the outer casing of a vending bot … idiot. Although, as shielding went, whatever worked he supposed.
"Still thinking this is a good idea?" he groused at Sam, taking out a floating eye robot with the trusty hunting rifle he'd picked up in Sanctuary a year ago now. God, some days he couldn't believe it had been that long but Sam's Pip-Boy, which she'd linked to his, had a handy little feature that ticked off the time since 'Day Dot', as she called it. He frowned, watching down his scope bemused as a raven landed on the downed still sparking robot and plucked out one of its eyes before looking directly at him and flying off. "Opportunistic little shit." he muttered.
They made it inside the perimeter having taken out some of the stragglers and were holed up on the rooftop of a nearby building. "You thinking sniper?" he asked and she nodded, handing him the silencer for his barrel. Jack smiled, stroking her fingers as they brushed in the hand-over without having needed to say a word; he realised it was the little things that made them work.
"Super-mutants are dumb remember. Keep your muzzle flash and any glare down and they won't know what hit them." she offered running her hand through his hair affectionately as she retreated, hopping over the short gap to the rooftop of the building next to him; careful to keep in his eyeline as she stealthily moved between them and rolled to assume a position with her own scoped rifle in hand. Sam settled into a position on her belly, gave him a wicked grin and vanished; the stealth-boy kicking in. Fuck! She was hot with a gun he mused for what seemed like the millionth time. She was hot anyway he mused but staring down the scope of a high-powered rifle, she was his idea of a wet fucking dream. Eight years spent daydreaming about being with her and it hadn't disappointed which meant that at least if he died, here and now, there was no regrets about her at least.
Maybe he wouldn't have thought such morbid thoughts if he'd known how close those thoughts came to being his last. But he wasn't a psychic like Mama Murphy; bless her wrinkled old stoned out ass. If he was, he'd have noticed the damn Super-mutant that had jumped across onto Carter's rooftop before it got within striking distance of her as her stealth field failed and she became visible. As it was he turned, having downed what he thought was the last motherfucker … who fell from the top of the skyscrapers half erected scaffolding with a satisfying splat onto the ground … and looked up across to grin at Sam. He stared at the approaching danger. Milliseconds passed; she'd never react in time. She might not even have realised her advantage had gone. Jack didn't hesitate. He just swung up his gun and damn near took the head off the Super-mutant behind her with his high calibre rifle, not even needing to look down the sight at this distance. Sam hit the ground hard covering and for a horrid moment he wondered if he'd shot her. But her look of horror, he realised, wasn't for herself. Somehow he'd done it again. He'd lost track of his own damn six and there was no Dogmeat this time to save his ass.
He turned just in time to see the frankly ridiculously big sledgehammer, spiked on one side and wrapped in razor wire and nails, as it swung past his head missing him by inches as he flinched out the way. But not far or fast enough, as the bastard swung it back around on a downward stroke, and it struck hard on the right side of his chest, lodging itself with a sickening thunk. He stared down at the damn thing protruding from his body, barely noticing the monstrous bulk of the green skinned monster that wrenched it out and swung at his head next. Fortunately, his legs had given out on him and he crumpled to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut, missing the killing blow as he struggled to draw breath. Jack realised it had crushed his ribcage on the right side with the strength of that blow. His breath rattled; punctured a lung too, hell punctured most of his chest he realised with grim detachment as he stared down at the ruin of it. There should be more pain he realised, wondering if it was shock. His rapid self-assessment faded out as he stared up at the beast, who raised the board again, right before its chest exploded. Sam leapt over his fallen body, emptying her clip into the monster he was fairly certain had just killed him before she skidded to a halt beside him. Her hands were everywhere, frantic and somehow assured as she examined his injury. He tried to talk and she shook her head stroking his cheek with a blood-soaked shaking hand. Her face had drained of colour and her eyes were wide … so wide and blue staring at him in panic and he realised it was bad … real bad.
"I need to move you!" she rasped, her voice a higher pitch than he'd ever heard it as she took a good look at his wound. "Jack honey, stay with me. We cleared out the Mutants but those damn Raiders are opportunists. They're moving in like locusts. If I don't get you out of here they're going to find us." He grasped her wrist. He wasn't about to let her die up here for him.
"Go." he rasped. She stared at him like he was an idiot. Pressing something into his chest that made him see spots and spasm for a moment as he fought for consciousness.
"Don't you dare Jack!" she implored, her eyes shining with tears as she cupped his cheek for a moment. "You die, I die." she told him firmly. "I have no interest in living in this God-forsaken place without you!" she swore and he shook his head, trying to urge her to go, to leave. He couldn't watch her give up her life for him. She ignored him and just started strapping together with duct tape what was left of his shoulder and gaping chest wound as she injected him with a Stimpak and some other shit, until he was high as a kite and stumbling up to his feet coughing blood, but inexplicably moving. The Stimpak couldn't fix this amount of damage. A bullet hole, if it had missed the vital organs, was easy enough but with half his chest on the floor, Jack couldn't see how he was getting out of this. But Sam wasn't giving up. Despite his protests, she half dragged, half carried his ass down the flights of stairs and out where they'd come from. He tried his best to keep on living, for her. He could feel the way her hands shook with the adrenalin and the effort of lugging his ass but she was determined. Even half-dead he couldn't help but admire that.
"Where…?" he panted out, wincing but not in too much pain despite the massive whole in his chest. She'd clearly given him the good stuff or the shock and adrenalin still hadn't worn off. He wasn't looking forward to the moment when it did, or maybe he was. Pain was good, pain meant he was still alive. Or so the Drill Sergeants used to say back in his Black-Op days.
"Shut up. Save your strength … and air." she added, shoving an inhaler in his mouth. "Take this." She depressed the plunger and he inhaled sharply not having much choice in the matter. "It'll slow down your heart rate and the blood flow." she added, before draping his arm over her shoulder and getting him moving again as he glanced back to see the empty Jet cartridge drop behind them. Very not good if they were resorting to Jet.
"I saw a house a little ways back. Mailbox outside said Dr Cabot." she told him, dragging him bodily now as his legs began to shake violently. Jack realised he wasn't breathing well at all as he spat more blood out onto the floor with a rattling cough that even he knew didn't sound good. It felt like he had an elephant on his chest and it was drowning.
"Nearly there." she assured him her voice breaking as she fought to hold back sobs. "Curie told me about Doc Cabot last time we were in the City. Apparently Valentine knows him. He's a real Doctor, just a bit secretive about his work." she rambled and he tried to listen but it was hard when your vision was spotting and there was a roar in your ears. "He's been running some special research project, recruiting people to help for months. He might help us." Sam told him. He understood the tactic; she was trying to distract herself and him from the trail of blood he was coughing up and the blood that had soaked through his and her shirt. Although, he supposed this Cabot Doctor was better than her trying to drag his ass all the way back to Med-Tek, not that it would help. They'd already drained that place and he suspected she'd already stuck in him half of what they'd retrieved.
The big fancy, mostly intact, house she mentioned was up ahead. He had seen it on the way through but taken no interest. Perhaps he should have he mused through a haze of pain, as he looked at it through his drug and oxygen deprived state. The damn thing looked pristine. Except for the couple of ravens perched on top … staring. Always with the fucking ravens. Maybe if he survived he'd see if there was a raven stew recipe out here. He chuckled, the sound making him gag on blood, a tinge of hysteria creeping in. He got out a rasping wet sound that he hacked back. So not good.
The mystery of the pristine house became quickly apparent; a huge mechanical Sentry Bot wheeled itself out from the side as they approached the door. Jack had seen Sam's retrofitted version of these and knew just what those bad boys could do; he definitely didn't want to tangle with it. Not when he couldn't even hold himself up, let alone hold a gun.
His vision was going spotty. He tried to focus on breathing. Sam was talking. That's as far as he got before the world went black.
00000000
Sam caught Jack as he went limp, mercifully passing out. She stared up at the Sentry Bot that trundled towards her, her heart pounding wildly in her chest from terror and adrenalin. Jack was dying, she knew it, he'd known it. Hell, had she not shot him full of crap he'd have been dead already. She'd merely prolonged his agony. "I need to see Dr Cabot." she instructed the Bot, her voice shrill. If she hadn't been holding up Jack she'd have tried to shake the damn thing. "Please!" she yelled, "Detective Valentine sent me. I have business with Dr Cabot." Not necessarily true but the Bot paused, its red light scanning her and focusing on Jack. She didn't imagine either of them looked much like a threat to it right now. She could feel Jack's blood soaking through her clothing, cooling on her skin. Jesus! She was losing him.
"Proceed." Its metallic voice rumbled and she tried not to sob in relief. Valentine's info was usually right on the money and although it had come second hand through Curie, she trusted it even if she didn't entirely trust him. The last communique over the radio from Valentine had been about some strange traffic to a place controlled by the Cabot's up North, Parson's something, and was enquiring about getting the Minutemen's help. She'd put it on the back burner like most things from Valentine which was starting to look like a bad decision. Although she hadn't quite imagined she'd need to call on the Doc whilst dragging Jack's almost lifeless body inside. She tried not to think like that because if she did, panic overtook her. All she knew was he clearly had a need and so did she. She was willing to trade just about anything if he could perform a miracle right now and she'd seen her fair share of those, even out here.
She banged on the heavy wooden ornately carved door and a ghoul opened it. Sam would have shot him in surprise had she had a hand for her gun. As it was she almost stumbled back with Jack's body in her arms. The ghoul glanced down at her in surprise; his face a ravage of rotten flesh and melted skin but he was dressed and wearing a surprised expression as he held the door open. Not a Feral then. Just one of the poor bastards that used to inhabit this nightmare version of Earth, their minds trapped inside a rotting body ravaged by radiation. Undying and trapped in a living nightmare. One day … one day she hoped that Curie might find a way to free them of it but right now, now she just hoped he didn't slam the door in her face.
"I need Dr Cabot … please, help me, we took out the Super-mutants at the construction site West of here. The General got hit." The ghoul didn't move, just stared impassively at her. Her eyes tracked over him shakily, taking in the army fatigues and a set of dog-tags around his neck. "Look, Valentine said you might need some Minutemen help with a problem up North. We were on our way to see you, please help him." she begged, hoping that by slipping Jack's rank in she'd stress his importance and maybe appeal to the old soldier in front of her, if that's what he was. Hoping and tossing one more snowball into the pit.
The ghoul appraised her slowly with its black eyes as she felt Jack's blood leeching out, warm and sticky across her legs as her own trembling arms began to fail. Sam wobbled backwards, trying to keep them upright, her muscles straining beyond endurance. But she didn't beg. He would either help her or he'd shut the door in her face. What was the use in begging a man who'd lived two hundred years in the shell of this world and the ruin of his own body? Then he stooped down and grabbed Jack's other arm and suddenly he was helping to drag Jack inside. The huge door slammed behind them and Sam blinked taking in the sudden shock of the grand foyer they were in. It really was some sort of mansion.
"There will be payment required." he informed her in a broken rasp of a voice as they worked together to keep Jack's body as still as possible, which she appreciated. Sam nodded barely hearing him; just relieved to be inside as she moved where he led, clinging onto Jack.
"Okay, fine. I'll pay. If he lives!" she snarled at him, terror feeding fury. She couldn't appear weak. Not now, not with Jack's life in the balance.
"You really took out that Super-mutant pack?"
Sam gave him a disbelieving look. "No, he carved out his chest with a giant weapon himself." She shook her head when the ghoul gave her an appraising stare. "Yes, for God's sake, we did."
"Hmm. Impressive. Those Super-mutants have been causing us a fair bit of bother for a while. Their weapons can reach the road to Parsons if the skies are clear." he said, as if that meant something to her. But all she could see was the bloodied stain on the wooden parqueted flooring Jack was leaving behind. Dear God! … he had to live. It was the only thought she could manage as she followed the ghoul, whose name she didn't know, into the preserved stately home; past its perfect bookshelf containing real actual unburnt books and she couldn't care less.
"Doctor!" The ghoul summoned with a shout up the stairs but he didn't stop and Sam felt her muscles shaking violently as they began to quickly take a flight of stairs. A dark-haired young man appeared at the top, with a set of square glasses on his nose.
"Good heavens Edward. What are you hollering about?" the man declared looking affronted to find two strangers bleeding on his floor.
This one wasn't a ghoul. In fact he had perfectly coiffed dark hair and a lab coat; looking a lot like the scientists she used to know.
The ghoul … Edward, she corrected … looked up at him, then at her pointedly. "New contacts of mine in the Minutemen. I hired them to clear that Super-mutant hole to the West. Job's done but we've got a wounded man." Sam noted he didn't mention the job up North and wondered at it, given as that was the job they'd clearly been looking to hire for.
"Ah yes … very well, very well. Bring him up then." the man replied with an almost insufferable sigh. Sam didn't argue or question this 'Edward' embellishing her story by claiming responsibility for them, not if it got Jack seen to.
"Can't very well pay them if they're dead." The man she assumed to be Doctor Cabot muttered, clearing off what Sam realised, with some relief, was a medical gurney.
Edward helped her lay Jack out on it and she pulled aside what remained of the combat armour, trying not to gasp at the damage she'd only glanced at before, when she'd patched it and stemmed the bleeding with duct tape and Stimpaks. Jesus! … half his chest was exposed. She could see straight through to his ribs and his lung. Fuck, he should be dead she thought, wondering which one of the concoction of meds she'd filled him full of was keeping him going right now. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, she pleaded with whatever Gods would listen … just don't let him die.
"My goodness! I say … quite a wound. I'm surprised he's still alive." Dr Cabot leant forward and checked Jack's pulse, his eyes on the blood smear behind, clearly expecting to find nothing and Sam waited with a pain welling in her throat. Please God. "Ah yes, still with us. Strong will to live, always a good start." The Doctor glanced up at her impassively. "Tell me what manner of weapon did this?"
Sam paused, trying to find her voice and shocked by the way he spoke, like something out of a period novel. She stumbled over her own words for a moment, fearing she might simply sob. The shock was wearing off along with the adrenalin and her whole body was shaking and covered in blood she realised darkly.
"Some sort of giant home-made sledgehammer, embedded with wire … and nails and … oh God." she gasped, fighting down bile, "Super-mutant was trying to take his head off." She let out a sob and gripped his hand, dropping her head for a second to try and compose herself.
The Doctor looked up at her for a moment, "Yes, well … fortunately it only got his chest. Not sure I could have done much if it'd gotten the head." He pulled a surgical tray to the side. "I may have something for this, not here, but shortly." Then he stopped. He glanced at Edward and Sam looked between them in the sudden silence as Jack bled to death between them. Her eyes frantic.
"Are these the ones you hired to take the Parson's job as well?"
Edward gave her a once over, then Jack. She clocked him taking in their weapons, his eyes lingering for a moment on their unblemished skin. "Could be. I was thinking more of our immediate problem with Emogene. Separate contract till we fix up the General." he replied.
"Just so." Doctor Cabot replied nodding as though they'd decided, "An accord between us then shall we?" He reached out his hand to her and she startled, wondering what the hell she was agreeing to. "I will fix your man here so he doesn't die on us immediately. On the condition that you accept a job for us. Edward will provide you with the details. One that will ensure his continued survival beyond merely tomorrow." He glanced up at her clearly guarded and concerned expression.
"I may be good but the man's left half of his chest out there I think." he added; she sorely wished he was exaggerating. Then he extended his hand to her.
"Do we have an agreement my Dear?"
Sam stared between Dr Cabot's hand and Jack's ruined chest. He'd die. She knew there was no saving him without some sort of miracle intervention and this world was medically centuries ahead of their Earth, or it had been. She had to put her faith in that. What did she have to lose? "I'll do whatever hell job you want. Just save him!" She shook his damn hand, trying not to feel like she'd just made a deal with the Devil.
The Doctor and Edward shared a look, then the Doc turned and held up a small purple vial with what looked like a tiny amount of solution left in it.
"Alas this is all that is left." he sighed wearily, talking to himself as he turned and extracted a small amount from the syringe into a beaker of fluid, mixed it with another and ran it over a Bunsen before bringing it to Jack. He approached and Sam stared at the diluted purple liquid in his hand.
"With your permission?" he questioned.
"What is it?" she asked quietly, her eyes on the bottle. He stared flatly at her.
"His only hope." Sam closed her eyes, feeling a chill run through her body. God help her. The last time she had made a decision for Jack about his health he'd ended up with a morally repugnant coward of a Tok'Ra in his head and being abandoned to Ba'al. But what choice did she have? She just had to pray that this wouldn't be another Kanan situation. She nodded grimly as he poured it over Jack's chest wound. Instantly it began to bubble and hiss; the smell awful as it seemed to flow across his skin, flowing out over the huge, damaged area that she tried not to look at. Focusing instead on Jack's face as she brushed her hand over his head, bringing her lips to his temple and pressing a kiss there. "It's okay …" she whispered, "… you're going to be okay." There was a violent crack and she looked down to see the Doc with his hand inside Jack's chest; she looked away as he straightened bone. The wound slowly began to knit together in one large jagged red and raw mass; he still looked like someone had tried to flay him open. The Doctor and Edward began binding his chest back together with bandages that at least no longer soaked through on contact.
"That will have to do." the Doc sighed and Sam looked at him biting down on her lip and tasting blood. "Topical application like this will only do so much. Like I said, it can keep him alive for a little longer. 24 to 36 hours at most. I can give him some blood plasma to help restore some of what he lost but his chest is a ruin. This is a band-aid at best. The internal damage is fatal. Frankly, I'm surprised he made it to the door. You must have some fairly impressive field medical skills … or meds." Doctor Cabot informed her dispassionately. Sam got the impression he didn't feel much of anything from the cool look in his eyes. She thanked her lucky stars that she never left home without her damn chem box; wondering which of the random things she'd taken from Med-Tek that she'd stuck him with had kept him alive, despite a pulverised chest and God knows how much vascular damage.
"So what's the catch? What do you need to heal him properly?" she whispered, hearing the broken note to her voice and no longer caring if they saw her weakness. She was weak. Right now they had her over a barrel. If they told her she needed to tear out her own heart she'd do it. Cabot knew it, so had that ghoul Edward, which was why Jack was still breathing. Desperate people made excellent tools.
"As I said, I am unable to do more than this for now. He won't die immediately, but he is responding well … good even. Some merely liquify on contact with my serum." Doctor Cabot delivered that graphic bit of news with absolutely no compassion or remorse which did nothing to help the pit in her gut. Sam swallowed down bile staring at him like he was the insane quack she feared he might be. Flashbacks to the surgeon she'd had to kill in Diamond City danced before her eyes. Why was it the only medic she trusted was a damn French robot?!
"Edward, start an IV line … why I do apologise for my manners. I am Doctor Jack Cabot, and you are?" he asked and she tore her eyes away from the sight of Jack still alive, accepting the hand he offered again almost automatically despite Jack's blood now covering both of theirs.
"Doctor Carter." she decided on quickly. His eyes lit up and she realised she'd judged that correctly.
"Ah a Doctor. Of what may I ask?" he enquired as Edward brought an IV stand and bags of plasma and began to hook him up. She knew that medically they were more advanced than her World but it was different seeing it and trusting it. This was the worst injury either of them had sustained out here and after meeting a number of Doctors and medics that could have treated Jack, she was placing her faith in someone she'd known for less than a few minutes.
"Um, Astrophysics and Quantum mechanics." she replied finally, forcing her attention onto the man saving her husband's life. Sam paused, realising what she'd said in her distraction and wondered if those terms would mean anything to him or if she'd just revealed herself as something 'different'. But she needn't have worried; his face practically lit up as he started wiping Jack's blood off his hands.
"A scholar … oh how marvellous." Dr Cabot replied, although Sam noted Edward looked less pleased with that.
"And a soldier." she added for good measure, catching Edward's eye; he was after all the one who let her in. "I'm a Knight in the Brotherhood of Steel … this is General Jack O'Neill, of the Minutemen." she added, stretching her status slightly from Initiate, hoping it would be enough to keep them 'of value' to both men. Edward began to hook Jack up and she panicked. "Don't you need to know his blood type first?"
"Why it's of no concern … what I have given him will prevent such antiquated things as antibody rejection." Dr Cabot replied waving her concern away and getting the blood going. Sam also looked at the single pack of serum and wondered how so small a volume would possibly help. He saw her looking. "You are unfamiliar with the blood serum replenishers?"
Sam carefully considered her answer, deciding she would rather know and appear stupid if it saved a life in the future. "I'm from before the war. We were frozen. I'm a little out of date on current medical techniques."
Dr Cabot's eyes narrowed. "Which war?" he pressed and Sam froze; that was the first time anyone had challenged their cover story. He barked out a laugh, clapping excitedly.
"I knew it! I see a kindred spirit and an old soul." he declared pointing at her clearly thrilled.
"This technology existed a good few years before the bombs fell. Synthesised blood plasma, capable of replenishing an entire human body supply. Self-replicating … and self-sterilising and of course completely allogenic."
Sam blinked, okay, wow. Synthetic blood. She had no idea that the blood packs she'd got could do that. She needed to brush up her field medic skills asap in this world or she'd die from bloody ignorance, lying next to the thing that could have saved her or Jack.
"We were frozen before the Resource Wars. An accident of early tech development. It was a classified project for an Air Force deep space program before they scuttled it."
It was a more fleshed out back story she'd been working on for the Brotherhood, when they started to look into their genetics (a requirement on joining was a sample and profile, or so Danse had told her). She was grateful for the chance to test it. Although she had no idea why this Dr Cabot would call them old souls … as if he was too. She looked around the grand house once more, noting the architecture, the upkeep and thinking of his strange way of speaking. After all, she'd heard and seen stranger things out here.
"How old are you?" she asked a little hesitant. She knew ghouls could live for hundreds of years but this man was clearly no ghoul.
"Ah … now that is the question my dear. I was born in the Year of Our Lord 1873."
Sam balked, her mouth falling open in shock. "Okay … I was born in 1968." He grinned up at her.
"Then it is an utmost pleasure to meet you in this dystopian future my dear, is it not?" He gave her a little bow and her eyes widened in surprise. Ok, so she hadn't expected that.
Sam watched him work quietly, the question burning inside of her as he worked to set Jack up on some sort of respirator which was still clearly functional as it began to pump oxygen into his damaged lungs. She stood there watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, her hand hovering over the terrible wound but not touching. He was still alive. Right now that was all she could hope for. In fact, that looked suspiciously like this Dr Cabot's trick.
"How is it you're still alive?" she asked finally when he seemed to be done. He shook his head ruefully, his hands checking on Jack as he finished setting it up.
"Science my dear." he replied, "And a certain misfortune. I will explain, but first, there is the small matter of your General." he indicated Jack's prone form.
"As I said my Dear, I can keep him from dying but his wound is grave. What I have given him will repair him to a degree but he will be significantly maimed. I can perform further surgeries to close the wound and promote some healing but I doubt he would be able to breath freely or move without significant pain. Certainly, he will lose the use of this arm and he will need a respirator for the rest of his rather short life." Sam flinched and stared down at Jack's pale face, her fingers tracing through his blood specked hair. From the moment she'd seen him lying there on the rooftop, she'd known that if he survived he wouldn't be the same.
"I can restore him more fully." The Doctor admitted and Sam swallowed; so she'd taken the bait, here was the line. "However, the deal we shook on means that I require that you do something for me in return. This was a gesture of good will, so that we might establish trust." he told her frankly and Sam nodded, closing her eyes for a moment to draw strength as she clutched Jack's good hand in hers.
"There is a serum you see. However, precious little remains and I have just used the last of it on your General here. The results you see here are a fraction of what it is capable of at full dose." Doctor Cabot explained, and for the first time there was something like passion in his cold eyes.
Sam looked up at him, then at Edward, who was remaining oddly still. She recognised the tactic in someone that wanted something desperately and was afraid to give that away.
"Let's not beat around the bush. I assume this serum is the 'science' responsible for your ripe old age?" she bit back.
Dr Cabot smiled genially at her. "Indeed." Which explained why he wanted it. Sam assumed a 'serum' responsible for slowing the aging process like that would require a constant supply. But it bode well for Jack; aging was simply a lack of cellular regeneration … regeneration that could promote healing, even of injuries like his.
Sam nodded accepting it because she had no choice, "I already shook on this, we have an agreement. I'll do whatever you want to get you this serum." she replied not recognising the dead tone in her voice.
"Splendid." he replied smiling thinly. "My sister Emogene has run off again. However, she's holding one of the last remaining vials, at least until I can procure more. Retrieve her and it, and I will use it to heal your man Jack … good name that." he replied, pleased at his own joke about their shared name. Sam found herself nodding again. Retrieving a woman out in the Wastelands - there were worse things he could have asked. "Good. Edward will discuss the details with you. For now, your man is stable but I wouldn't dilly dally."
"My husband." Sam felt the need to clarify, to make it clear to them that this was completely personal. "He's my husband." she looked up and met his eyes. "And if I'm leaving him here with you, you better hope he's still breathing when I get back. Or I'll reduce you and this entire house to rubble." Doctor Cabot looked at her sharply from across Jack's prone form.
"Ah, I see. Well, I suppose now you've threatened us that will make all the difference." he replied somewhat flatly and he stalked off, leaving her alone staring at Jack's body; his chest rising and falling as the whir of machines and wires attached to him worked. No extraordinary means. He had a living will back home, just like her. An attempt to prevent another little 'Tok'Ra' mistake or any other number of potential alien resurrections that might be attempted on his behalf that would leave him 'altered'. They'd all learnt their lessons from that. But here she was, willing to inject him with some mystery serum she was getting from a man who she knew in her heart was all kinds of wrong. She leant forward and pressed a kiss to his far too pale lips, laying her forehead against his for a moment. "I'm sorry Jack. I just can't lose you."
"Don't worry. I'll keep an eye on the old General for you." The ghoul Edward startled her and she looked up, not having realised he was stood across from her, watching the private exchange. "I know the Doc sounds like a crackpot but he can do it." Sam nodded. What choice did she have other than to trust in the kindness of self-serving strangers? This was a business exchange, just as she had expected when she'd dragged Jack to the door. Deliver the serum and Jack would be whole again.
"I suspect you'll want to clean up. Don't imagine even Emogene will be wanting a rescue from someone wearing quite that much blood." He indicated her soaked outfit and she knew she probably looked like some slasher movie survivor. Sam stared down at her hands, covered in Jack's blood. Jack's blood, which wasn't going to go back in his body. Evidence of just how much he'd lost, how close he'd come to bleeding to death on the way here. Edward was right, she did want to scrub it off.
"Yes, thank you, that would be kind." She looked up, not yet releasing Jack's cheek from her touch. "But time is short, I can't waste his." she murmured releasing him and moving to reclaim her weapons. Edward stepped in front of her, his arm out as if to block her.
"Look. You shouldn't be travelling at night, you know that." He pointed to the windows which reflected a darkening sky. He was right of course but she couldn't just leave Jack like this. "The Doc says he'll last twenty-four hours then he will. Emogene isn't far, just outside Diamond City. So try not to fret." Edward told her and she thought she detected a hint of compassion there. He indicated at her blood-soaked clothes, "We can have these laundered, your husband's too." he nodded towards Jack. "What's left of them." he added. "I'll take care of it." Sam was still torn and he could clearly see that she didn't feel comfortable waiting around until the morning or leaving Jack alone. But she was going to have to do both she realised grimly.
"Hey, there's running hot water for a shower." he offered one last time, trying to tempt her. Sam nodded relenting; a hot shower wasn't to be sniffed at and he was right, there was nothing more she could do for Jack this second. Edward grinned and beckoned her to follow him as he escorted her through the house to the upper rooms where there was indeed a proper bathroom, in pristine condition. The last time she'd seen something like that was inside the Vaults but those had been sterile cubicles. This was fancy. She stood just inside the room looking around. Her hand touching the honest to God fluffy white towels when she realised Edward had paused behind her. She turned glancing at him.
"There's also the matter of my payment." he rasped and Sam turned to face him fully, her blood running cold; something leaden forming in her gut. There was no such thing as human kindness anymore. She had after all made two transactions today; one for Cabot's help in saving Jack's life and another at the door, with Edward, when he'd let them in and vouched for them. She'd foolishly forgotten.
"I lied to my boss for you, let you in here." he reminded. "As much as the Doc, I saved his life."
Sam lifted her chin. "Yes, you did. Thank you." she offered, hating how vulnerable she felt suddenly, stood in a palatial bathroom, covered in Jack's blood and staring at a ghoul who was responsible for Jack's health for the next twenty-four hours. Clearly a heart-felt thank you wasn't going to cut it here. "What do you want?" She didn't like to ask that question anymore but he clearly wasn't in any rush and she felt Jack's situation keenly. Edward's dark eyes gleamed and she rushed forward to fill the suddenly dead air, making her own offer. "I'm good with guns, I can modify your combat rifle if you like …" she offered having seen it strapped to his back, "… get you twice the range or switch out the ammo, laser sight. Whatever you want." her voice trailed off as he stood staring at her, his arms crossed, the intensity of his gaze boring into her. Sam felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise and her breath hitched.
"As tempting an offer as that is, it's not nearly as tempting as you." his throaty rasp on abused vocal cords slid over her. "I want you." The words hit her like a slap and she stared back at him, quietly shocked, despite the quiet terror she'd been feeling at this possible notion since she'd turned to find him standing behind her. But he was a ghoul; she had no idea if they even had sexual desires, or even equipment anymore. Apparently that was horribly naive of her and would likely give her something else to fuel her nightmares for a good while. Anger flared. He knew how desperate she was. She'd not been able to mask that from him, not on the doorstep and not as she'd cradled her dying husband's cheek. Bastard … she snarled inwardly but that was all. Her hand shook. She placed it gently on the sink counter beside her, trying not to look as rattled as she felt.
"I won't have sex with you." Sam replied firmly, trying not to let disgust and terror at the thought show. 'Whore' Rhys' words rattled through her brain and she tried not to flinch. God damn him!
"Because you love your General." Edward nodded stepping forward. Sam didn't step away, holding her ground. "I can understand that loyalty." He came to stand inches from her and she took in a shallow breath looking at him now. His nose rotted away, his skin mottled and raw; it was an image she knew she'd see in her dreams for as long as she lived as he raised his hand and very slowly brushed her hair behind her ear. Sam kept her eyes on him, letting him see how close to being on his ass he was. But she didn't stop him. He knew she wouldn't.
"I'm not as you might say 'equipped' for such an act anymore anyway." he explained. Sam forced herself not to look down or consider what the 'rotting' would have done to the rest of his body. The evidence she could see was enough to make her queasy.
"Then what do you want from me?" she pressed. "Exactly.", certain she didn't want to know but she held her nerve.
Edward smiled, there was no malice in it but it made her shudder all the same. "I just want you to undress. Take a shower." he replied, indicating the cubicle. "And when you're in there, I'm certain that you could think of some way to 'entertain' me." His eyes roved her body and she blanched, realising he wanted her to put on some sort of lewd show for him. "I'm just going to sit right here and watch." He sat down on the small armchair in the corner of the bathroom and waited.
"You just want to watch?" she asked nervously. Of all the things that had been running through her mind, the almost cart-blanche he had given her weakened bargaining position, this wasn't the worst. She'd be a fool to let a little something like her pride chafe at this. Not with Jack's life hanging in the balance and he was right, she owed him. He'd saved Jack's life by letting them in with no reason at all to do so.
"Watch, imagine, remember a little." He cocked his head at her, "You have incredible skin. I wouldn't deface it with my withered rotting flesh but I can enjoy it." he admitted. "Humour me. Please." he asked politely and she took in a deep shuddering breath. It was better than some offers and threats she'd gotten recently out here. God, some of the things the Raiders said to her, male and female, if she'd been foolish enough to let them get too close were enough to give her nightmares of their own.
"Okay." she replied quietly, ashamed of herself at feeling an unexpected swell of relief that of everything he might ask, this was all. She tried not to flinch as she shut the bathroom door with finality; deciding that this was one of those things she'd never mention to Jack and something she'd mark down as necessary to keep them safe and alive.
It wasn't so bad she considered, trying to convince herself once more, as she stripped off her leathers, dropping the bloodied items into the wicker basket he indicated. Sam hesitated for a moment as she undid her pants, wondering if he would direct her, but he remained silent as she pulled them down her long legs revealing her bare ass. He groaned faintly and she tried to ignore it, pretend that he wasn't there. The new bra Jack had acquired for her a few weeks ago, given lovingly as a Christmas gift, was now soaked through with his blood she realised grimly. She was suddenly grateful that she was going to be able to get the damn things clean along with herself. She carefully unhooked the bra, turning her back on Edward as she worked and dropped the bra onto the pile. Oddly it was her top half she was more tentative about displaying than her lower.
"Please … turn around." he rasped in his grating voice, polite as ever at least. Sam shut her eyes for a moment. Composing her face into something neutral as she drew the strength to turn, letting the hands that had been cupping her blood-stained breasts fall away to reveal herself to him. She felt her cheeks flame.
His black pupiled, red rimmed eyes were intent on her when she dared to look at him; devouring every inch of the skin she revealed. Sam could feel the intensity of his gaze like a touch. His lips curved up into a smile. "God you're perfect." he hummed. "Absolutely perfect." he sighed and slid back into the chair as she merely stood there. "Go on." He indicated the shower and she turned gratefully, suppressing a sob and feeling the urge to cover herself but not daring to as she fiddled with the settings, getting it working fairly quickly. The spray came out warm as promised.
She risked a glance at Edward as he moved but all he was doing was sitting forward, getting a better view of her as he watched her avidly; bloodied water running down her body, to circle the drain. Jack's blood. She pushed the sickening thought aside that she was here entertaining a ghoul as payment for his life.
"There's some wash products in the cabinet there." Edward pointed, "The Doc's mom Wilhelmina created them." Sam reached inside and pulled out clearly labelled soap and hair bottles. Wow. If she was going to degrade herself then at least she was going to be compensated for it. The thought that she'd ever have considered soap and shampoo an even trade off almost made her chuckle, but she recognised the note of hysteria in it and squashed it. Taking in a steadying breath she lathered the soap and began to scrub herself clean behind the clear glass shower screen, surmising that was part of the deal.
Sam was acutely aware all the time of her audience, although she didn't feel nearly as uncomfortable as she imagined she might. This was for Jack; she'd have done a lot worse to ensure his safety. The damn ghoul wanted a show. She'd give him no reason to cry foul or find that she'd reneged on her side of the deal. So she turned to face him, keeping her eyes shut. She lathered up the soap and at first she merely cleaned herself, desperate to be free of the grime and blood that clung to her as she soaped herself; using her hands everywhere she imagined he wanted her to. Her hair was much longer now, curling behind her ears and dripping down her back. She ran her hands through the blonde mass, scrubbing right to the scalp and trying not to moan at the simple pleasure of warm water and clean soap cascading all over her body.
But even with her eyes closed she could feel the gaze on her. She hadn't forgotten she was supposed to be putting on a 'show'. So, with her hair clean she let her hands travel across her hips, sweeping up across her flat abdominals to pay particular attention to her breasts. She didn't hesitate and felt pleased with herself at least for that as she grasped handfuls of the flesh and pinched her nipples to taut peaks. Sam was faintly surprised at how good it felt. It had been a long time since she could simply luxuriate in warm water and explore her own body and the changes to it that life out here had brought. She focused on that aspect now, trying to put Edward out of her mind. It was just her, in a shower, her hands, her body. A body that immediately felt different to the touch; stronger, leaner, firmer. Her breasts a little smaller than before through lack of her usual diet, but still more than a handful. Fingers traced scars old and new, imagining Jack's fingers. He'd touch her again because of what she was doing right now. A part of her wondered if it still held the same thrill for him, to touch her scarred and hardened body.
She opened her eyes to find Edward staring at her face, not her tits. His mouth parted and his eyes burning like coals pits, making her feel like she was some sort of wanton Sex Goddess for him to worship … or a whore. She inhaled sharply, a spark of arousal she hadn't expected flashed through her at the power she clearly had over this man, without a touch. He obviously found nothing offensive about the damage the Wastelands had inflicted upon her body in only the year she'd been here. She wondered if this was how strippers felt … empowered. Or did they just feel ashamed? Because right now she was at about fifty-fifty. Her cheeks flamed again and she hoped to God he couldn't see that. The part of her that was a soldier longed to slam her fist into his twisted face, to tell him exactly what she thought of the pitiful retch that he was. But the woman, alone, naked with her husband at death's door a floor below, dependent on their charity, she swallowed her rage and bit her tongue. She didn't have the luxury of fury now. This twisted ghoul wanted a show.
"What's your name Doctor Carter." he rasped, his voice startling her for a moment as did the now unfamiliar form of address; she stared through the glass screen at him. Their eyes met and she saw for the first time a tenderness there beside the lust. A need to connect with her. She pitied this poor retch she realised; he just wanted to feel something again, so desperate that he didn't care who he hurt in the process. She imagined it couldn't be easy looking the way he did and still having … urges. Pity alongside the shame bloomed. She could do this. He'd saved Jack's life. The terror for Jack still was palpable, he wasn't safe, not yet. She needed these people to do that.
"Samantha." she told him and he shuddered, a whole body one. She wondered if he'd just come … if he could even come? He hadn't said exactly what had happened to his 'equipment'; whether it was just non-functional or whether it had dropped off entirely. But he hadn't touched himself there once and she saw no bulge. With a wave of repulsion that she felt almost viscerally in her gut she was forced to assume it was probably the latter. That dark train of thought disturbed her enough that she almost froze, her hands wrapping around her waist, holding herself together.
"Touch yourself Samantha. Please. I'd like to see you come for me." he rasped with that grating voice, the look of desperation and dark hunger clear on his features. Her name fell from his raw lips like a prayer and God help her but she didn't want to give him what he wanted, she couldn't. But Jack … it was for Jack she reminded herself, taking a shaking breath in and out.
"If you fake it … I will know." He promised darkly and she didn't doubt him. A man who could only get his rocks off watching others; she was certain he'd have a way of telling if it was the genuine article he was getting or not. She'd already assumed he was clever, observant. He'd not pushed her too far past her hard limit, correctly assessing just what she'd be willing to give him without a fight, given his current leverage. She kept the dark thought at bay; he'd gone for the safe bet because she was quite horrifically certain that she'd have accepted a higher price, making her feel oddly grateful he hadn't pushed.
Slowly, hating herself for her utter lack of protest, she did as he requested. His eyes followed the path of her hands as she watched him watching her. She'd never have done this before, in her old life. Not in a million years, no matter what was at stake. At least she hoped not; she'd not loved anything enough to put herself through this kind of humiliation – not without protest at least. But then, the rules were different here. The horrors somehow all too real and she was different here. Jack was hers here and right now, this kept him alive and with her.
Her fingers teased her own clit and she let out a breathless sound at the contact which felt raw and over sensitised, surprising both of them. She wasn't sure what possessed her in that moment. Self-delusion, survival instinct, or just plain old-fashioned pride, but she was determined not to fail at this. He'd asked her to come for him but she suspected he didn't really expect her to. She was worried about what he might do if she reneged on her end of this Faustian deal for her husband's life. Because whilst this might have been Jack Cabot's house, she got the impression that Edward ran the place. Staring darkly at him as she let her fingers trace over her most private of places, she let this ghoul watch. This man that could have asked anything of her, and still might, right now all he wanted was this. Maybe it was just that; relief or a strange sense of gratitude for not taking any more from her. Either way, it was a fucked-up thought but it was hers and she'd own it. Edward wanted her and in some sick way she recognised that he wanted her to pretend for even a moment that she wanted him. She could use that on her own terms. She wasn't entirely powerless here.
She placed her hand palm up on the glass and stared at him as she slipped her fingers between her own legs and began to rub rhythmically. He moved and she tried not to notice as he set his seat down directly before the glass, apparently he wanted to be close so as not to miss a thing. The transparent barrier between them wasn't much but it did help her to dissociate herself some from the act and from him. She closed her eyes, stroking herself and thinking of Jack instead and imagining his fingers, his touch; the comforting thought that he'd get to do it again because of this man, this ghoul. She opened her eyes quickly to remind herself of the circumstance, that it wasn't Jack, and quite unexpectedly met Edward's eyes as he now stood directly at her eye-level. She gasped as she saw the moment the desire and the love she felt for Jack hit him instead. Saw him imagine in that moment, in that sickening smile on his lips, that her desire was really for him. He groaned deeply, his eyes wide as his hand pressed onto the glass opposite her, separating them by nothing more than inches, but still untouchable.
"Closer." he instructed, his voice grating over her flesh and she fought back a shudder as the sound grated over her anxious form. Sam moved until her flushed skin brushed the cool glass, giving him his damn eyeful, as she slipped her fingers inside herself, her breath fogging the glass.
"Faster. That's it Samantha, perfect. So perfect." He pressed his forehead to the glass but his eyes were intent on her body now, on everywhere her hands were moving as she lifted one to squeeze firmly at her breast, feeling the sharp almost comforting prick of pain as she pinched a little too hard. His fingers twitched against the glass tracing her outline, as if tormenting himself with the phantom touch of her.
"Samantha." he rasped through the glass at her, making her hate her own name in that moment as she stared back at him, keeping her eyes fixed on his longing ones as she fucked herself for him … seeing Jack but letting Edward for this moment convince himself it was for him. She came faster than she imagined she could like this but perhaps it was the raw sexuality of it, the heady sensation of power over her would be attacker, combined with the horror and withering shame. She felt the contrast of overpowering emotions, added to the adrenalin and the terror for herself, and the real all-consuming desperate fear that Jack might well still die, the desperation not to disappoint the ghoul that held all the cards. All of it coming together into a potent mix that had strangely heightened her awareness as she willed it over quickly. Every touch and move she felt through his watchful eyes and desperate stare. Until, with an overwhelming sense of relief that she'd managed it, she was pulsing around her fingers and moaning under the warm spray, undulating her hips until she felt the tremors pass and the fluttering fade; her orgasm leaving her breathless with its suddenness. Any trace of empowerment faded and she felt the overwhelming rush of shame as she gasped, lifting her offending hand in near shock away from herself. How could she have done that? Come like that?
"Give it to me!" Edward's voice cut through her fragile hold on herself as he gesticulated in clear desperation, his fist pounding on the glass and making her jump in shock. His hand shot around the shower screen, sharply indicating for hers, his eyes hard and no nonsense and she felt a flash of terror that it wasn't over. "Please." he growled, indicating her soiled hand. She tried not to shudder at the notion as she fought the urge to shove it under the shower instead. That wouldn't keep Jack alive. This would, God help her.
With her self-loathing doubling, she placed her wet, cum soaked fingers in his hand and turned her head away, not able to look. He drew them instantly to his mouth and she tried not to react, her stomach lurching suddenly as she felt his tongue tracing every single digit. The harsh rough heat of it as he took every ounce of her pleasure from her fingers, trying to make it his own. The sounds he was making were indecent and she felt her cheeks inflame; her legs shaking for a reason that had nothing to do with pleasure as nausea roiled in her gut. She bit her tongue sharply to prevent from saying something she'd regret. When his tongue stilled she risked looking back, praying to God that was it … that he hadn't duped her with the false hope that she only needed to give him this. She was terrified that she'd kill him if he betrayed her and tried to further exploit her vulnerability right now. He'd already taken enough. Killing him would kill Jack.
Edward stood breathing hard, his dark eyes intent on her as he closed them, suddenly letting out an almost sob as he placed a shuddering kiss to the back of the hand he still held trapped. Sam didn't dare move. The tremor in her fingers obvious to them both. Slowly, seemingly minutes later he finally relented with a deep sigh and released her hand. It took everything in her not to snatch it back as she watched him drop his forehead to the glass, which was once more between them, as he took in one shaking breath after another. She barely took a breath, terrified of what he might say or demand next.
"Thank you." he managed finally and she felt relief flood her; that was it, it was over. He flicked his eyes to her, taking her in for one more moment, before he turned clearly drawing himself back together and reaching for a towel. He dropped it onto the rail just beyond the shower but within her reach. He sighed deeply at her sudden attempt to cover herself with her hands which frankly seemed ridiculous given what she'd just done and what he'd seen. But that shame she'd only half felt before was out in full force now, chased soundly by horror. She felt sick and she dropped her head not able to look at him.
"Take as long as you like." Edward told her, looking away. "I'll load the information about Emogene into your Pip-Boy. If you'll excuse me." He simply left, shutting the door soundly behind him.
Sam sagged against the glass; her head bowed. She felt warm tears splash against her cheeks as she wrapped her arms around herself and tried not to feel it all. She didn't have the luxury of time; Jack was dying and she had a mission. But her whole body shook uncooperatively as she tried to wash off the feelings of shame and betrayal; trying to remove the evidence of her Faustian deal. Guilt and fury lashed at her and she slammed her fist violently into the tiled wall beside the shower. Wincing, even as she welcomed the sharp burst of pain she felt radiating from her knuckles. She didn't want to stand here and cry. She'd done what she had to for Jack, she couldn't second guess that, not when she still had work to do. Besides, if she did, she had no idea who the hell she'd even be crying for; herself, Jack … pitiful Edward? Or maybe it was for this entire fucked up world. Mama Murphy was right … there weren't enough tears left for all that.
0000000000000000000
END NOTES: So I know a lot happened there, a lot of it not good for our daring duo, and I've left it on a bit of a cliff-hanger. Don't hate me...