Jesse didn't bother to go home. He stayed in Grayling and sent a courier off to tell ARC that he was taking a break and would be back in roughly two weeks. Amos would understand―and probably assume that Jesse was bunking with some girl. Jesse figured he had about twenty days before Amos came looking.

It was ten days before Lionel could be taken off the sedatives. Dr. Jen refused to remove him any sooner; she carefully explained to Jesse that life as a ghoul was incredibly painful on it's own without needing to worry about the excess injury that often happened.

Apparently that translated to "Lionel will bug the fuck out the minute he wakes up and break shit" with a distinct note of "don't even try to get in the way". Jesse had ducked so many surgical instruments in the last ten minutes, he was starting to worry he'd have to have surgery himself. Lionel was angrier, meaner, and more foul than Jesse had ever seen him, even when he had Lilian over the edge of the barge.

Dr. Jen stood against the storm like a rock, her face impassive behind her glasses, letting the curses and threats bounce off her. "I will sedate you again," she warned him. "You are agitating your stomach wound."

Lionel just made growling noises like a feral ghoul and Jesse had to leave the clinic. It was almost an hour of horrible fighting later that a more sane-looking and much calmer Lionel exited the clinic with Dr. Jen holding his arm muscle in a pinch that saw her fingertips meeting through the exposed muscle.

"Jesse?" she asked him, in the same voice that Amos reserved for his most uncomfortable, and usually annoying, requests.

He sighed. "Whaaat?" he moaned, in a low tone.

"I need you to escort Lionel," she said, and her hand twitched on his arm, but Lionel only looked forward with a dull expression. "Take him out to the Radcommons."

Jesse scratched his head. "Dunno where that is," he said.

"Don't worry," Dr. Jen said, and he could see her arm muscle was so taut, she was shaking. She didn't let go of Lionel. "Just head south on 75, you'll find it in no time. I expect Lionel will let you know when you are there. Just him, though, don't go in there, yourself."

Jesse nodded, and jogged in place a bit. "Is, uh, is he gonna bolt the minute you let him go?" he asked, half-joking.

She shot a harsh look at the side of Lionel's head, and shook her own. "I don't know. I had to dope him with med-x, so he may be... awkward."

She slowly removed her hand from the ghoul's only arm and Lionel shot it out to Jesse, grabbing him by the front of his shirt, then stomped away with him. "Shit, man, slow down," Jesse said. "At least let me go, I got longer legs than you."

Lionel jerked his hand away, then slowed down, and eventually ambled into a dazed walk that Jesse recognized as the shuffle of an addict. He actually started feeling sorry for the old ghoul. He'd seen the look many a time in Spalding, and he knew how bad it could be for someone to relapse.

They moved south, on the highway. Jesse smelled the Radcommons before he saw it, and once the half mile stretch of barrels started filling his nose and throat with a dry nasty burn, he stopped and backed up about one hundred feet. "Go do your... thing," Jesse said.

He kept his rifle out, regardless. Toxic waste meant feral, and feral was something he didn't want. Lionel stood in the middle of a circle of barrels, looking like he was waiting for the sky to open up and hammer him with rain. He kept his head back and eyes on the sky. Jesse kept his eyes open wide, sweeping the expanse, and a finger firmly against the trigger.

It was not more than a half-hour before a horrible rage-filled noise poured into Jesse's ears. At first he thought Lionel had gone feral, and he swiveled the scope down onto the ghoul, watching him nervously. Lionel simply strode back to the road and started walking south, with haste and hard steps hitting the pavement.

All the signs of the addict were gone. Jesse sprinted down the highway to catch up. "Where you going?" he asked, once he caught up.

"Detroit," the ghoul said, and the feeling under the word was one of serious hate.

"What?" Jesse ran backwards in front of him, trying to have a conversation. "They'll kill you, man!"

Lionel stopped and Jesse tripped, tumbling backwards. He rolled back up onto his feet with ease, never letting himself stop. "Go home, kid."

"Naw," Jesse said. "What's in Detroit?"

"Celia," Lionel said, and his voice was fearful and soft, now. "Go back to Gladstone," he added, gruffly, and started walking again. He brushed past Jesse with a hard shove.

Jesse caught himself and gawked. "How the hell did―?"

"Not willingly," Lionel growled. "Go the fuck home, kid."

"No," Jesse said, mustering his courage. "No. I gotta go with you. Amos wouldn't let me walk away from a man who's going to his death."

Lionel just picked up his pace, and Jesse fought to keep up. "Seriously," Jesse added. "I wouldn't mind an apology for that ball-tap, either."

"Next time," the ghoul said, shooting him an angry glance, "it won't be her, does it. It'll be me, and I'll kick your fucking teeth in."

"Yes, sir!" Jesse said, saluting.

"Come on, then," was the answer.

Day two. The Rabbit told Rock stories. He kept her safe, kept his demons at bay. Beauty and the Beast, Little Red Riding Hood, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White. She put his name into the stories, and in his mind he was the prince, the woodcutter, the Beast. He listened raptly under her gaze, which grew softer every time she began a new story.

The other, in his head... Phaeton growled and scratched at his skull, demanding to be let out, growling to eat her, to break her bones against the metal floor. But Rock wanted stories. Wanted to hear the Rabbit say his name, over and over. He wanted rid of the other, but he needed him, to keep the demons away. He didn't want the other to come out, but he let Phaeton tear apart the army before the Rabbit, and pretended it was he who was saving her.

The Rabbit cried when Phaeton tore apart the demons, and Rock licked away the tears like a pathetic dog, whining.