Note: I am really sorry I haven't been able to get this on a schedule. I was caught up with GATG and then got stumped on this chapter until now. Hope it gets back on a regular posting schedule. (It's about to get exciting, though!)
He was going to have to kill the man, he realized that.
Irving watched Jericho as he walked around town, paid attention to what he did. The old man had very little going for him, and no friends. He was paranoid and obscene, and his interactions with people in the town were laced with brevity and hate.
It was just as well that Irving had planned to make the old man suffer, for having been Emily's choice. It was a bad choice. She knew it was a bad choice. She knew Irving knew. And she had to know how he would react.
Last time she'd knocked herself out in her effort to stop him from hurting the ghoul. This time, if she so much as tried to defend this nasty old man―like she had that walking hulk of rot and pus―
He didn't know what he might do, to stop her from that, but he would stop her.
Irving watched her talking to the sheriff, talking to people around the town. She cared about this place, so he did. He wouldn't upset people over some jealousy, or cause the town to fall into chaos. But if she tried to prevent him from protecting her in the only way he could, right now... she would not succeed.
He'd planned to make the old man realize she was too much effort for him to want to be with her. To make him give her up voluntarily. Irving was a master of stealth, he knew how to creep around and set traps. Nothing lethal, of course. Just a few "pranks".
But after that conversation with him at the counter, well... and after he'd learned other things, things that made him wonder why the sheriff in town hadn't just shot the old man―Irving discarded the plan he had been working on, and began a new one. What had started out as an attempt to irritate and infuriate the old bastard suddenly changed into an assassination.
The woman at the Brass Lantern had told him a little about Jericho. Told him that he was not particularly well-liked in town, but was tolerated because of his ability to help defend against the dangers of the outside world. She'd also detailed a little more about what had happened with Emily's house falling off the crater side, and he learned that Emily had been spending the night with Jericho when it happened.
"Probably the only thing that saved her life," Jenny muttered, staring at the undetonated bomb in the middle of town. "Damn shame she was even there. I don't know why she would mess around with that asshole."
Irving stared across the way, too, but he wasn't looking at the bomb. He was staring blankly at the ground, trying to wrap his head around why Emily would keep going after these men. Men that were filth. Why she wanted a man like this Jericho, who was too old for her and had breath so bad it could stagger a Brahmin. Did she enjoy the smell? What was it about the condition of decay that she enjoyed, so much? She had loved her rotting ghoul and now this foul-tongued old man, and the only thing they had in common was their stink.
Well, that and the fact that they were both incredibly old. The sheriff in town was older, as well, but Irving had been told that he and Emily had a professional relationship. That she was only staying with him so that Simms could keep an eye on her because she had come out of Jericho's house with a bloodied face.
Thank God for local gossip.
Irving stared at the ground and felt his pocket full of caps, absently. Emily had been hurt by that asshole, had her face bashed in, and she hadn't tried to kill him. Why, Irving couldn't say; he'd never had the opportunity to get to know her unless she was at the Citadel or they were undertaking a mission for the Brotherhood. He'd never really seen her as a civilian, come to think of it.
He sighed to himself. Seeing Emily on a mission was one of the reasons he'd wanted to protect her, so badly. She was barely decent at combat. She'd had that sniper rifle for as long as he'd known her, but he had rarely seen her shoot accurately with it. Maybe it was why she hadn't defended herself against this bastard attacking her. Maybe she thought she would lose the fight, and so she'd been trapped by Jericho's obvious lust for her.
It sounded correct. Emily was in trouble, again. She needed help, and Irving wanted to give her that help.
But she was also being helped by the sheriff of Megaton. That one, he understood her. Her teasing behavior was going to keep happening, and so he was keeping an eye on her. This Lucas Simms understood more about Emily than Irving did, and he fit the necessary qualifications for her to want a relationship with him. Older, meaner, entirely capable of protecting her. Jenny had told him that Simms placed himself in charge of Emily when she stumbled from Jericho's house, naked and bleeding.
So... she wanted someone who acted aggressively. Someone who could make her behave, who would control her? Damn him, he should have taken control when they came back to D.C.―he'd always been so damn shy around her―
God, he was going to kill himself with this torture.
She definitely wanted an older man; Irving was not as young as she was but he was at least ten years younger than the sheriff, thirty less than Jericho, and God only knew how many years younger than her ghoul had been.
He hadn't thought about his age for some time, and now that he was, it made him sick to his stomach. He'd given up a fifteen-year-long career in the Brotherhood of Steel because of her. He would gladly have given it up, before Annapolis, if she would have asked; being forced out of the Citadel because she stepped in and destroyed Pre-War technology―even if her godawful zombie had been the one who actually performed that deed―Irving rubbed his temples.
Their actions had ruined any chances the Brotherhood might have to advance its goals. It had been his duty to collect the tech, and he failed. Not only had she made him lose face against his people, she had allowed her ghoul to cause him to fail in his main objective. The collection and implementation of Pre-War technology, in order to further mankind's progress across the wasteland.
He closed his eyes. It didn't matter. In the end, all he wanted was Emily. Wanted her at his side, but it would probably never happen.
And he wanted her to acknowledge that he was the best choice, but God knew if she would. Irving was her best option and she knew it, but she deliberately chose to ignore his attention. He would do anything for her, but she wanted someone―someone who would take control, rather than let her be in charge.
He rubbed his eyes and looked up at the sky, gauging the time. It would be a few hours until sunset. Irving did all his best work in the dark, so he had a few hours to make a plan, and all night to follow through with it.
Until then... he would recon. Watch her. Watch him. And plan.
He stood up and left the Brass Lantern for the second time that day, to plot the murder of a man who would not be terribly missed, and who deserved to die.
Emily retreated into the sheriff's home in the evening. Irving watched her from up on the railing, holding a bottle of water and staring out over the town. He saw her moving about the town, and he'd been keeping an eye on Jericho's house. The old bastard went in about two hours ago and hadn't come out, so he was probably sleeping or eating his own dinner.
Irving knew that Emily had been invited to stay with the sheriff. From the way she was acting, she was concerned about it; possibly because of her nature, but Irving had also gathered the idea from people around town that the sheriff had a checkered past. Something that the residents weren't willing to discuss with a stranger.
The sheriff didn't seem like a bad man. Irving might be friendlier to him, if Emily weren't around. But he wouldn't be here at all, if it weren't for her.
God, he was miserable.
His eyes caught motion, tracked the old bastard leaving his home. Watched him stumbling over the dirt where her house had been, now a mess of pipes jutting out and a half-made walkway constructed over the empty spot. Jericho tripped and caught himself as he hopped over the large pipes up near the town entrance, then stood and dusted himself off.
He stared at the sheriff's house for a long time, before walking up to the door. Irving moved himself down to the lower part of town, then walked up onto the railing above the sheriff's home.
A knock on the door. The sheriff speaking in low tones to the old man. Heard Emily talking. Stilled himself on the railing. Listened carefully to what was happening.
"Don't you fuckin' listen? I told you―"
"Look, if I tell him you want me to―whatever it is, you want―"
"You don't need nothin' but me."
Irving closed his eyes in pain. It was obvious that Jericho wanted to own her like those slaves she'd tried so hard to free. But that was what she seemed to want―to be owned. It didn't make much sense to Irving.
"Nah, this is bullshit, you're comin' to my place, you know you are."
"You think it's a good idea to start that shit again? We'll both be out on our asses if you don't knock it off."
Maybe the sheriff was smarter than Irving had given him credit for, if he'd threatened to oust the two of them. If Emily were gone from Megaton with only that old asshole to keep her company―he groaned internally. It would be easier for him to kill the man, out in the wastes, but Emily would be upset if she had to leave. She truly cared about this town.
"When the hell did I say we were something? You said we could have something, but I didn't ever agree to it."
He knew that feeling. It hurt. It hurt like a thousand lasers through one's chest, like the pain of being crushed to death by a falling building. Irving breathed out and glanced down toward the sound of their voices. He couldn't see what was going on, but he didn't need to.
He knew what Emily was up to. Same as ever.
"You wanna go over this again? I fuckin' told y―"
The sheriff interrupted and Irving waited patiently. After a moment he watched the old bastard walking away, talking to himself in low tones and acting agitated. He focused his attention on the man, slowly pulling out his laser rifle and aiming it down into the center of town.
There weren't many people out and about right now. His best bet was to silently kill the old man, then go sleep in the common house and wait for morning.
Irving squeezed his finger on the trigger, lining up his shot. He exhaled, narrowed his eyes, and waited.
The town gate opened, loudly screeching that someone was entering. Irving swore under his breath, lowered the rifle and put it on his back. Turned his head to see who was entering, like the old bastard was doing.
Emily's ghoul walked through the gates.
Irving sighed, and walked away from the railing.
Why couldn't it ever be perfect?