- XI -

(August 2277)

Part 2

Free man walkin'. Get the hell outta my way.

The indignant yelps of the women he shouldered past went ignored as he adjusted the restored Pip-Boy on his wrist and tucked the serpent pendant under the collar of his jumpsuit. His back pocket held the familiar weight of the Toothpick, and although his jacket smelled musty from spending three months stuffed inside a tiny locker, he felt complete again the instant he donned it. The steel corridors of the upper level welcomed him with familiar gray walls, a sight he realized he'd missed during his time locked away.

A vicelike grip clamped onto his forearm, and Chief Hannon's gruff voice brought him back down to reality. "Don't get too comfortable out here, son. Depending on how this goes, you might be heading right back to the detention center for the next few years."

Okay… not exactly free man, but close enough.

Butch snorted. "C'mon, Chief. At least let me enjoy the walk without you holdin' my hand, huh?"

"You've got an awfully blasé attitude for someone on his way to a trial that'll determine his fate."

"Well, let's just say my community service was the best thing your nut job security force ever did for me."

Chief Hannon stared at him as they proceeded toward the admin floor. "I'm not sure what's going through that head of yours, but I knew there was a reason I didn't like my boy hanging around you."

"Join the club, Chief. I hear Officer Gomez is the president."

Butch brushed aside the older man's disapproval and slipped his game face on once they approached the Overseer's office. Upon stepping inside, the air dropped to a stark chill, more from the subzero glares exchanged among the occupants than from the temperature itself. Two groups of people faced off from opposite sides of the room while the Overseer perched himself behind his desk in the far center. His eyes narrowed as soon as the newcomers entered his field of vision, but Butch's attention immediately veered to the left.

Ivy sat in a chair flanked by Dr. Ashburn and Amata, face set in a stony expression as Jonas Palmer read something off his notebook behind her. Paul, Freddie, and Officer Gomez all clustered around them, alternating between arguing amongst themselves and peering across the floor at their opponents. Butch stiffened when his gaze traveled to the other side and clashed with Wally's, and in eerie, simultaneous fashion, the entire Mack family turned to regard him with matching glowers. Stevie stood at the forefront and wore the standard 101 jumpsuit instead of his security uniform, a nasty scar running diagonally over his forehead. His customary sneer had been replaced by a deadly countenance that promised retaliation for all this trouble.

Butch responded to the enmity by flipping them the bird.

"Now that Mr. DeLoria has graced us with his charming presence, may we begin?" the Overseer barked.

Ivy glanced at Butch and whispered something to Amata before breaking away from her group and heading over.

"This is a waste of time, Alphonse," Allen Mack snapped, glaring at everyone unrelated to him in the office. "My son had already caught the culprit of the atrocity that occurred during the spring formal, but now the ungrateful Ashburn girl dares to stir up these claims accusing Stevie of the crime?"

"Because it's the truth," Dr. Ashburn shot back, sounding twice as angry. "You saw the evidence we presented yesterday."

"All I saw was some blurry footage of some kind of BB gun playground and a bullshit 'paternity test' that could have been forged by the most simple-minded of primates," Mr. Mack spat.

Dr. Ashburn looked the furthest thing from a medical professional at that moment, and he wasted no time launching into a scathing tirade about where Stevie stood on the evolutionary scale. As the argument escalated, Ivy reached Butch's side and gestured for Chief Hannon to unhand him. Grasping his wrist, she tugged him toward the nearby corner. Butch tried his best to maintain his indifference in light of the previous week's discovery of his illness, but her touch seared into his skin, testing his resolve to keep her at a distance.

"Just to get you up to speed," she started in a low voice as the Overseer hollered for the verbally dueling fathers to desist, "we made our move yesterday. I submitted my testimony, and Officer Gomez searched Stevie's room and apartment, but all that turned up was the shooting range footage. It was enough to convince the Overseer to let you out of the detention center for this pseudo-trial, but we didn't find any chems, copies, surveillance recordings, or even his camcorder. The paternity test results are being analyzed right now for authenticity, and if they're not accepted as sufficient evidence, we're fighting an uphill battle."

He nodded and processed her words carefully. "'Kay. I'll take it from here."

She paused, blinking up at him. "What?"

"You got me here so I could help out, right? Well, step aside and let the Butch-man work his magic."

Ivy's dismayed look was almost insulting. He shook off her reservations and sauntered all the way up to the Overseer's desk, cranking the insolence up to maximum by spinning around and eclipsing the Vault leader.

"Oh Lord, we're letting Butch talk first?" Officer Gomez asked Dr. Ashburn loudly.

Butch ignored him as he addressed both groups. "All right, this fucker owes me for three months of my life I'll never get back, so let's make this quick," he declared, scowling at Stevie.

The Overseer rose behind him. "Mr. DeLoria, kindly move your impudent self out of my view and into the witness seat over there. Remember that even if you manage to prove your own innocence, you have accumulated enough demerits to earn a vocational transfer to septic tank cleaning."

"Before I bring out the big guns," Butch continued as if the Overseer hadn't spoken, "how are you gonna stand there after seein' footage of me and Ivy covering six years and still think I'm the one who forced her into those fucked up pictures? Huh, Mack Sr.?"

"Other than your abysmal record of social misconduct?" Mr. Mack snarled. "Your alibi has no substance. We have no reason to believe you weren't manipulating her when the camera wasn't rolling. Other than classes and that footage, how are we supposed to account for the rest of your free time during 2274-2276?"

"I can answer that," a new voice replied.

All eyes snapped to the door, where Edwin Brotch had appeared with a bulky manila folder under his arm. Most of his past students in the room expressed surprise at his attendance, and out of the corner of his eye, Butch glimpsed Stevie gawking at his childhood friend.

"Edwin? What the hell are you doing here?" Stevie demanded.

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Brotch," Amata piped up, shushing her father when the Overseer echoed Stevie's question. "I appreciate you showing up to help out Ivy."

Their former teacher strode to the front of the Overseer's desk next to Butch, dropping the folder onto the surface. "Just call me Edwin; we're all adults here. And actually, what I have would probably be of more help to Mr. DeLoria."

Butch's eyebrows shot skyward. "Really?"

The Overseer finally relinquished control of his desk and came around to the side of it, features scrunched up in irritation as he ordered Chief Hannon to standby. While Paul and Freddie inched closer to get a better look, Officer Gomez hurried to intercept Stevie, who had begun stomping in Edwin's direction. The rustling sound of papers accompanied the Mack family's protests, which died down when Edwin spoke again.

"Knowing Butch as long as I have, I can tell you that he's one of the laziest, most hard-headed, most aggravating students I ever had the misfortune of dealing with," he deadpanned. "He was always late, rarely turned in his homework, and spent more time combing his hair than listening to the lecture whenever he did make it to class."

Butch's lip curled in outrage. "What the fuck! Whose side are ya on, anyway, Brotch?!"

"But because he was such a horrible, careless individual in regards to his education," Edwin went on as if Butch wasn't on the verge of slugging him, "I have proof that there is no way he could have been responsible for the creation of those pictures."

The office went silent as he began flipping through the numerous files.

"Butch DeLoria, afternoon detention on January 16-27, 2274. Butch DeLoria, morning detention on February 2-9, 2274. Butch DeLoria, mandatory study hall on February 10-28, 2274. Detention March 3-10, 2274. Study hall March 12-23, 2274…"

Butch wasn't sure whether to be pissed off or absurdly grateful for his own academic negligence. Edwin listed all his school punishments over the span of two years, covering every week of every month. While it would have been laughable (and pathetic) under other circumstances, listening to his history of his utter educational failures was music to Butch's ears at this moment.

"So as you can see, he was quite busy during that period. Any time gaps not accounted for can be chalked up to other essential activities. Like eating and sleeping," Edwin stated flatly. "The odds of his involvement in those exploitative pictures of Ivy are slim to none."

Stevie's expression appeared similar to what Butch imagined his own had been at Wally's treachery. His muscles grew taut beneath his jumpsuit, and Officer Gomez lifted a restraining arm to keep him from barreling forward.

"That doesn't mean shit. Bottom line is that DeLoria belongs behind bars," Stevie growled. "I won't forget this, Edwin."

Closing the folder, the teacher swung his sharp gaze to him. "Butch was the biggest pain in my ass for years, and he wasn't winning any popularity contests. But he was still one of my students." His dark face took on a menacing quality. "And I don't like it when someone accuses my students of outrageous crimes they didn't commit."

Aw, Brotch, even though you're a fuckin' punk for putting it that way, you're all right.

Butch clapped a hand on the other's shoulder. "Thanks, man."

"Don't thank me just yet. Not until you and Ivy are out of this mess."

Nonetheless, he was grateful for Edwin's support. Ivy and her group stared hard at the Overseer, who seemed to contemplate the additional information as Amata endorsed it with her unnecessary, supplemental, firsthand accounts of seeing Butch serving each detention. Paul and Freddie jumped in by adding concurrent statements about the Tunnel Snake hangouts in the rec room during those years, though Wally tried to negate their anecdotes from across the way. Stevie had begun quarreling with his parents, and Susie took the opportunity to voice her indignation.

"I knew I never liked you, you bitch, and I hope you get what's coming to you for involving my whole family in this stupid situation," she snarled at Ivy. "And Amata, you totally sold out. I can't believe you're buying into her story."

"I can't believe you're bothering to talk when you have nothing of substance to add here," Ivy fired back, simultaneously amusing and impressing Butch.

His optimism increased until Mr. Mack cut Stevie off and advanced toward the Overseer.

"You can't possibly be thinking about overturning DeLoria's sentence," he griped. "Do you not remember all the concrete evidence that pointed to him as the guilty party?"

The Overseer frowned. "Yes, yes, I'm taking it all into consideration."

"Taking it all—there is nothing to consider!" Mr. Mack roared. "Let me ask you this. Where is the proof that it was Stevie?"

Butch spotted his chance, and a sly grin spread over his face as he motioned Ivy over. "I got your answer right here."

She gave him a bewildered look, but went to his side without questioning him. Dr. Ashburn barked at the Macks to quiet down as Butch took her wrist and activated her Pip-Boy.

"Y'know, funny thing about community service and workin' on Pip-Boys with old Stanley. You learn some nerd shit that just might come in handy down the road," he said. Scrolling through her interface, he smiled in self-assurance when he found what he needed. "For example, take this model. The Pip-Boy 3000A. Kinda old and ugly-lookin', but it's got a function that was phased out with the models most of the rest of us have."

"What are you blabbering about, DeLoria?" Stevie rumbled, though the inflection of his voice was a tad uneven.

"I've already signed off on that Pip-Boy during the annual Pip-Boy checkup," Mr. Mack stated warily. "There's nothing on there that's out of place."

Butch disregarded that and instructed Amata and Paul to hook up Ivy's Pip-Boy to the Overseer's terminal and projector. Although the Vault leader objected vehemently, Chief Hannon hesitated in stopping them as he watched his son get to work. Amata turned on the electronics while Paul attached the connection cord to the devices. Within minutes, the Pip-Boy's interface was displayed on the screen above the desk.

"All right. We all have the tracking function, right? See here, pull up the local map, and whaddya know, there's a clusterfuck in the Overseer's office right now," Butch quipped, gesturing to the mass of blinking indicators.

"Get on with it, Mr. DeLoria," the Overseer snapped.

"Fine, fine. What if I told you the 3000A model had an extra feature that Stanley didn't tell anyone about? What if this Pip-Boy kept track of the wearer's location, recording wherever she went, from the day she slapped it on her wrist till now?" Butch surveyed the stunned faces around him before leering at Stevie. "'Cause that's exactly what happened. Hey, just for fun, why don't we check out her locations during the years 2274-2276?"

All attention locked onto the screen as he navigated through Ivy's settings and accessed what seemed to be an archive of maps organized into years. Once he opened the one from 2274, he heard Stevie's sharp intake of breath as the label Apartment: Mack Family – Bedroom: Stevie Mack popped up repeatedly, denoting hours spent inside day after day over the course of that year. The archives revealed the same thing for 2275 and most of 2276, the latter showing Ivy's extended clinic stay after her miscarriage.

"Well, I'll be damned," Edwin muttered, crossing his arms as he squinted up at the documented records.

The Overseer rotated to narrow his eyes at Stevie. "Care to explain this turn of events, Officer Mack?"

For once, Stevie didn't have a ready answer. He shifted his furious gaze to Ivy, who reciprocated with her own glare.

"Impossible. That device has clearly been tampered with," Mr. Mack growled immediately in his son's stead.

"I thought you said there's nothing out of place on this Pip-Boy," Butch jeered, zooming in on a map of Stevie's room and leaving it on the screen. "You checked it yourself and gave the OK, right?"

Mr. Mack looked ready to throttle him by this point, but Jonas cut in before he could get another word out.

"You know, I actually own an old Vault-Tec manual detailing this function of the 3000A model," the medical technician declared. "I'd be happy to bring it in to show that this evidence is legitimate."

Wally chose that moment to chime in. "That still doesn't prove anything solid," he remarked, glowering at Butch. "For all we know, Stevie could have been helping her with her homework while she was in there. It's possible that one of her motives for stirring up this issue is that he rejected her interest in him, and in her psychological trauma after those pictures, she's confused and trying to put the blame on his head."

"Yeah, Ivy's always been the quiet type," Susie added right away. "Never showed any interest in boys our age, so it would make sense that she'd already been after Stevie."

"Uh, actually, I think she's always liked Butch. They went to the formal together, if you remember," Freddie pointed out. "Quit spouting things off for the sake of hearing yourself talk, Susie."

As she flushed from her crush's reprimand, Butch's lips fell into a thin line. The idea that he'd ever liked Susie left a sour taste in his mouth. Twisting things around seemed to be a Mack trait, and he intended to put a stop to it. Permanently.

"You wanna see somethin' concrete? Wonder why the real stuff never came up in the search through Stevie's room?" Butch demanded, switching tactics. "This asshole is a smart guy. Crazy as fuck, but two steps ahead of everyone else. Only this time, he tripped over his own ego."

Ivy stared up at him, curious and hopeful.

Catching Officer Gomez's eye, Butch jerked his head toward the door. "The stuff you were lookin' for? Chems, copies, surveillance recordings? Check his personal locker over at the security station. He was ready for you guys getting a search warrant for his room. But he wasn't ready for the guy he sent to jail cleaning the place at midnight and seein' him cram that shit in there. Like I said, Chief," he continued, smirking at Paul's father, "the community service your nut job security force assigned me was the best fuckin' favor."

Stevie's posture went rigid at once; a subtle movement, but enough for the Overseer to take notice.

"Officer Gomez. Obtain a master key from Stanley Armstrong and check Officer Mack's locker at the station," the Overseer ordered. "I want this matter settled once and for all."

"Alphonse!" Mr. Mack roared as Officer Gomez rushed out of the office.

Chief Hannon stepped in to restrain him while the Overseer dismissed the uproar from the Macks. Stevie scowled and sent a look of pure animosity toward Ivy, but she paid no attention as she clasped Butch's arm, starry-eyed. He nodded at her, his fingers lingering over hers before he broke contact to disconnect her Pip-Boy from the cord.

"I will review the material Officer Gomez finds this evening," the Overseer announced, reclaiming his desk as Amata and Paul shut down the terminal and projector. "Until then, this part of the trial is over. Chief Hannon, if you would escort Officer Mack to the detention center, and Mr. DeLoria," he said, giving Butch a meaningful glare, "you are free to go for the day."

Butch shot a vicious grin of victory to Stevie, who appeared positively murderous.

"Ivy," the security officer rumbled as Chief Hannon took him by the arm and led him to the exit. "This isn't over. We're not finished here."

"No," she answered from Butch's side, "but you'll be finishing it by yourself in a jail cell."

Mr. Mack sputtered his outrage as the rest of the Mack family filed out in a somber and resentful line, and Mrs. Mack sighed as she dragged her protesting husband with them.

"You're going to pay for this, Ivy," Susie said heatedly as she passed by. "You and your piece of shit delinquent boyfriend over there—"

"Give it a rest," Wally told his sister, grasping the back of her collar to yank her along. "We'll get this fixed. Don't worry."

Ivy frowned at their retreating figures until Amata stepped up and hugged her in relief. Butch stood off to the side and watched several others come forward to do the same. Edwin reached out from next to him and gave him a heavy pat on the back, nodding his approval.

"Glad to see the disaster is passing," the teacher commented while gathering Butch's files. "I'd tell you to stay out of trouble, but I know that's not going to happen. And as much as it pains me to say this, you're not a bad kid."

Butch snickered as Edwin strode toward the door. "Shucks, you're gonna make me blush, Brotch."

Dr. Ashburn trudged over to him at that moment, his typical grimace while interacting with Butch now less pronounced. "Ivy will be able to sleep well tonight for the first time in a long time thanks to you," he stated, somewhat reluctantly. "Now I almost approve of you as a match for my daughter. It appears you just may be able to take care of her when I'm gone."

Butch blanched, taking his words at face value. "Uh, no… it's not… see…"

"Ahem!" the Overseer interrupted. "If you would all take your congratulations outside my office, I would greatly appreciate it."

Amata instantly ushered them out, muttering something about not pushing their luck. Once outside, both Paul and Freddie leaped on Butch in a celebratory gesture.

"Hey, glad to have you back, man!" Freddie cheered.

"Yeah, we were worried you'd blow it at the trial and get sent back to the detention center forever," Paul added.

Butch shoved both of his friends off and drawled wryly, "Gee, thanks, guys."

Amata interjected by tugging on the two Tunnel Snakes' jackets and telling Ivy they intended to help with the evidence Officer Gomez found. After they left—with a parting "Tunnel Snakes rule!" from Paul and Freddie—Jonas headed back to the clinic, and Dr. Ashburn gave Ivy a quick hug before following him.

"Don't wait up tonight, honey," he said before turning the corner. "We're probably going to pull an all-nighter with all the work we have to catch up on."

She called back an affirmation and waved as he disappeared, leaving her alone with Butch. The familiar silence descended over them, this time amidst a light atmosphere, free of tension. He gazed down at her, taken by the way her features had brightened with unbridled sanguinity, but he forced himself to look away. Despite the new positive outlook on their situation, the reminder of his condition returned to tear him down inside.

"So…" he started, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

She spared him from scrambling for a topic of conversation. "Walk me back to my place?"

He nodded and led the way down the stairs without skipping a beat. As they walked side by side through the corridors, he snuck glances at her from the corner of his eye. She didn't speak, but her demeanor was calm and relaxed, and she kept her sight trained ahead as if deep in thought. He allowed himself an inward smile, pleased that the perpetual stress had disappeared from her face. He'd be glad when they could put all this behind them and go on with their lives.

It was just too bad the two of them couldn't do so together.

They arrived in front of her apartment all too soon. Digging the toe of his boot into the floor, he inclined his head.

"All right, so… I'll see ya around."

Ivy seized the sleeve of his jacket when he turned to go. "Would you come inside? I just want to talk to you for a few minutes."

Butch exhaled wearily, but agreed. Girls sure like to talk a whole lot when there ain't nothin' else to be said.

He stepped inside at her beckoning and was promptly greeted by a pleasant clean scent. This marked the first instance he'd ever set foot in her apartment, and the tidiness made him even more ashamed that she'd had to witness the landfill known as his residence on numerous occasions. She motioned for him to accompany her as she walked toward her bedroom, slipping off her jacket and draping it on her desk chair. He cautiously ventured in with her, glancing around as if her father had booby trapped the place to take out any other males daring to enter.

As the door closed, his line of sight fell on the BB gun on her desk, and he felt a fleeting moment of nostalgia as he studied the wear and tear on the object that had brought them together through the tumultuous years of their adolescence.

"First off, thank you for everything you did back there," Ivy began, coming to stand in front of him. "I had my doubts, but what you presented was amazing."

He tried to shrug it off, but his ego swelled at the praise. "The Butch-man's at the top of his game. Glad I paid attention when I was workin' with Stanley, and it was just crazy good luck that I happened to be there when Stevie thought he'd slip another one past us."

Ivy smiled briefly before it faded into a serious expression. "So now that this whole thing with him is getting taken care of, I was wondering how you were doing after I dropped that bomb on you last week about Wilson's."

Butch's shoulders stiffened as he stared off to the side. "Just dealin', y'know? Like I said before, I'll leave you alone after all this is sorted out, so—"

"That part. Why?" she demanded, taking a step forward.

He let out a long-suffering sigh. So she's gonna make this hard. "C'mon, Ivy. Let's get real here. You and me, and whatever this is between us, we don't got a future with me havin' a liver disease. Best for you to just cut ties with me so I can sink on my own."

"That makes absolutely no sense," she retorted. "I haven't given up on finding a treatment, and neither has my dad. You're going to be okay—"

"No, I'm not and don't even give me that false hope bullshit," Butch snapped, his chest filling with both misery and anger. "I saw what Wilson's did to my parents, and I ain't gonna ruin the memories we made this year."

She reached out to clutch his jaw, forcing him to look at her. "So you're giving up just like that? When I made the decision to tell you about it, I thought you'd want to fight it head on. Backing off and throwing in the towel before the first round has even started is so unlike you." She brought her other hand up to hold his cheek in place when he tried to jerk his chin from her grasp. "Hey. We're not your parents. You're not your dad."

He froze. Bulls-eye.

It was a fear he hadn't wanted to acknowledge, an ever-present dread gnawing from the darkest corner of his subconscious: becoming Hank. So far, he'd been treading that exact road, whether he meant to or not, from circumstances both in and out of his control. Every comparison to his father, every whisper and rumor that traveled across the Vault, drove another nail into that fear. And Ivy had seen right through him.

But then, ever since they were kids, she had been the only one to see him for who he really was.

He removed her hands, unwilling to admit his insecurities in front of her. "Whatever. Point is… there ain't no point. No point tryin' to fix me, no point getting together, no point in this conversation."

"I disagree. If you'd let me in to help you, we could deal with this together. Your stubbornness is what's holding you back, Butch, and this isn't something you should shut me out over. Why can't you be honest with yourself for once?"

"You know, you're actin' like I have deep feelings for you or somethin' just 'cause we had some good moments," he lashed out in frustration. "Get over yourself, Ivy. I've already paid for and corrected everything I've done wrong. I don't owe you nothin' else, I don't need your help, and if you want the stone cold truth, I sure as hell don't care about you that way."

Of course, that truth was in fact a lie; one she didn't stand for.

Ivy exhibited her displeasure through unexpected aggression. Curling a fist into the rough material of his jumpsuit, she shoved him against the wall with one arm and held him in place with a fiery glare. He was initially too taken aback to resist the action, but his ire rose along with another emotion he couldn't quite identify.

She leaned forward so that her face hovered mere inches from his, and in a low, ominous tone, she murmured, "Say that again."

Butch felt her warm breath on his lips, her sharp elbow digging into his ribcage, the intensity of her eyes. Having fully regained her health, she possessed enough strength to keep him from moving, using her small body to press his against the hard surface. He recalled a very similar position years ago, also brimming with hostility, where he had pinned her outside the atrium. And just like last time, he caught the floral fragrance of her hair, which only served to increase his awareness of her close proximity.

A peculiar ferocity sparked in the space between them, stemming from every bout of irritation, acrimony, and untold emotion they carried within. Whether for everything else or for each other, it burned in their gazes, altered the atmosphere in the room. They both felt the change, the widening of a path they'd been fated to cross. Something built, gained momentum, caught them in the rising tide. Maddening. Exhilarating.

It was… arousing.

He seized her by the waist and yanked her harder against him, kissing her fervently, almost forcefully, with all the desire he'd suppressed for the past three months. A small sound issued from the back of her throat, but soon her fingers roamed up to thread through his hair. He growled into her mouth when she shifted against his groin, and he pried her off briefly so he could grab the zipper of her jumpsuit and rip it all the way down to her stomach, almost tearing the thing right off the fabric.

Once the top half of the suit slid down and gathered at her hips, she threw herself back at him, matching his force, his driving need. She kissed him again as his arms snaked around her, his fingers searching for the clasp to her white bra. Her tongue flicked out, slid along his bottom lip, and he groaned as he let her in, remembering the familiar way she tasted. Her hands cupped his jaw, pulling him closer.

The bedroom was aflame with the heat of their passion, the hunger for each other a physical ache. They needed it hard, hot, fast, now.

His mind grew blank as instinct took over. Succeeding in unhooking the undergarment, he dug his blunt nails into the skin of her spine, dragging his mouth to her neck and sucking on the soft flesh in a sensual love bite as he backed her toward the bed. He was sporting a raging hard-on by this time, but he paused and drew back to peer at her flushed face once her legs hit the edge of the mattress.

Vocal timbre resonating with huskiness, he asked, "This what you've been wanting, girl?"

She responded by brushing his temple with her knuckles. "I want you to stay with me tonight."

A request bordering on an order.

He liked that.

His jacket dropped to the floor, and he held her gaze as he slowly unzipped his own jumpsuit, noting the way her lips parted when his muscled chest came into view. She lifted tentative fingers that traveled over the planes of his stomach and the contours of his shoulders before slipping the sleeves of the suit down over his toned arms. Her touch left trails of fire over his torso, riling him up to the point where he lost patience. Snarling an oath, he pushed her onto the bed.

She kicked off her boots and watched him, features set in a sultry look. He practically threw off the rest of his clothing and then pounced on her, eliciting a sweet laugh as the mattress creaked beneath them. He braced his weight on his elbows as she grasped the serpent pendant that swung from his neck. They hesitated again while she studied it, her expression growing tender at its presence.

Then, gently, she used the chain to tug him toward her, capturing his mouth in a chaste kiss. He deepened it insistently, loving the feel of her, wanting more of her, desperate to have as much as she would allow. He stifled every qualm, every concern, and swore to fill her, body and soul, with carnal rapture.

Because tonight, she was his.

Butch broke their contact to straighten and strip off the remainder of her garments. Splayed out with her flaming hair in a halo around her head, she was the epitome of everything he desired. His groin throbbed at the sight of her lying nude before him. Ivy… his enemy, rival, companion, friend…

Lover.

He crawled back over her, his breathing going ragged when she spread her legs for him. His body slid against hers, their heated skin melding together as her fingertips roved over the muscles of his back. With their faces a hairsbreadth apart, he slipped a hand between her thighs, swallowing when she moaned and dug her nails into his shoulder blades. She was wet and ready, the slickness covering the finger that probed inside. He withdrew and gripped his pulsating cock, positioning himself at her entrance.

"Brace yourself, baby," he rasped, using his free hand to stroke her bangs from her forehead.

When her hips rose, that was all the answer he needed. He couldn't wait any longer.

She gasped when he pushed into her, a ringing noise of gratification, and he groaned at the same time as her tight warmth enveloped him. He stayed still for a few moments, buried deep inside her, reveling in the sensation of them joined as one. Then, slowly, he began moving in a steady rhythm, pulling almost all the way out and plunging back in. A soft sound escaped her lips with each thrust, and his hands fisted in the sheets on either side of her head, the image of her flushed and blissful expression seared across his vision. He could already feel the winding tension in his lower abdomen.

God, he'd wanted her.

Ivy arched into him, shoving her breasts against his chest, the serpent pendant sandwiched between the racing of their hearts. His breath hitched when her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in deeper, urging him to go faster. He obliged wholeheartedly, shortening his strokes and picking up speed, driving into her with enough force to rock the bed.

Her nails raked into his back, the momentary flash of pain sending his arousal flying off the charts and jumbling his thoughts. This side of her, wanton and unabashed in the throes of her pleasure, drove him utterly mad. His body scrabbled for release, grabbing hold of the pressure in his groin and demanding to let it overtake him. She was hot and wet and tightening around him, and he knew he wasn't going to last much longer.

Reaching down between them, he ran the pads of his fingers over the nub of her sex. She started, her moans fading into sharp, desperate breaths as he teased it in a circular motion, never breaking the constant pace of his thrusts. They made love in earnest, their hips coming together hard and fast, the long-binding connection finally manifesting in this intimate act.

He whispered her name as he memorized the scent of her, the feel of her. Even if he couldn't keep her and this was a one-time thing, it felt right, as if everything had happened to lead to this moment. She stared up at him with a look he'd never seen before, fierce and ardent, and deep down he knew exactly what was written in those hazel eyes.

She was in love with him.

Her arms came up to hold him close, and suddenly she cried out, stilling and then convulsing around him. The sensation of her surging upwards, constricting, squeezing, drove him over the edge. Losing all restraint, he buried himself to the hilt and came harder than he could ever remember, erupting in long jets of fulfillment as he groaned into her shoulder. He rode out the aftershocks and then collapsed beside her, both panting in the heated room.

His mind spun in a haze, stunned but contented. They said nothing as they lay together, catching their breath and watching the metal ceiling. After a few minutes, she turned to him and pressed her lips to his, tracing her thumb along his jawline affectionately. But when she pulled away, her smile was understanding and a little sad. Without a word, she drew the blanket over herself and settled on her side, facing the wall with her back to him as she laid her head on the pillow. He blinked in confusion for a while until he realized.

She was giving him permission to walk away.

From the moment he had kissed her, that was what he'd intended. All reason in his head told him to get up, get dressed, and leave. Nothing had changed; he was still sick and he still didn't want her involved when things took a turn for the worse. She had a life to live, one that was finally beginning to look up, and she didn't need him and the burden of his disease tainting it.

And yet…

He reached out to caress the waves of her hair. Then, after leaning behind him to flick off the light, he joined her under the blanket and draped an arm around her waist, holding her against him.

Even if it was only an illusion, he wanted this kind of happiness. Just for now. Just tonight.

Just this once.

x-x-x-x-x

A/N: Sorry this took so long! This is so late, and I'm still not entirely happy with it. I've been grappling with writer's block, so I floundered a bit with this chapter. Also, I'm pulling the artistic license card on the hidden Pip-Boy 3000 tracking function. Thanks for reading; we're nearly to the end of the story, guys!