For the Good Times, Chapter Three: Hound Dog, Part 1
Title: For the Good Times
Chapter: 3. Hound Dog, Part 1
Fandom: Fallout: New Vegas
Rating: PG-13
Characters: The Courier (Marie), The King, Rex, Julie Farkas, Arcade
Pairing: F!Courier/King
Word Count: 2,879
Summary: What happens when a man playing king meets a woman playing knight? That's when your heartaches begin. A series of oneshots detailing the relationship between the King and a female courier.
A/N: In this chapter, Marie must calm down the King after he's given the bad news that the Followers cannot help Rex.
Previous chapters:
1. Marie's the Name
2. The Wonder of You
The wastes were a lonely place. This was the only explanation she could conceive of for why her injuries liked to come in pairs, never one at a time. She couldn’t just break her leg, she had to break her arm, too. She couldn’t just get stabbed, she had to get shot, too. An ironic buddy system that worked against her safety, instead of in its defense. And it had been like this for as long as she could remember. Only, as a child, it had been scraped knees and colorful bruises instead of life-threatening wounds; difference was these boo-boos didn’t heal all better with a mere kiss from her mother.
Hell, over the years, Marie had practically made getting hurt into an art form - one she was unfortunately more than proficient at. Some might have called it talent, this ability to survive such an vast array of damage. She just called it damned painful.
After a particularly grueling encounter with a party of Fiends, she was really hurting. A lack of stimpaks just made a bad situation worse; she’d had to substitute the medicine with cheap chems just to keep upright. Marie had initially refused Boone’s offer of assistance, but a few miles had since changed her mind. With her one good arm slung around his waist - because he was too tall for her to hug his shoulder - she limped along with only the occasional complaint. Usually about the landscape (whose course nature was not conducive to a cripple) or the weather (which was being a typical nuisance). Boone supported her weight in his usual silence, and when he did speak it was to point out a rock or crevice that could give her trouble. Marie was bloody, beaten, possibly suffering from a little heat stroke, but not blind. She kept her irritable thoughts to herself. He was, after all, only trying to help.
Still, the courier couldn’t help thinking that when he’d agreed to be her spotter, this wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind.
They made it to Freeside in a couple of hours, reaching the not-so-pearly gates around late midday. From there the Old Mormon Fort, home to the Followers of the Apocalypse, was just a hop and a skip away. In her state, hopping and/or skipping was completely out of the question, but the fact remained that treatment was within arm’s reach. And not a moment too soon, because the combination of Jet and Buffout was beginning to wear off.
She staggered inside, and into a new scene of conflict.
The King and Julie Farkas were arguing about something, loudly. Angrily. Something had the normally polite and passive King riled. He kept exaggerating with his hands, pointing to his cyber dog. Rex, wasn’t it? The animal looked downright pitiful, laying on the dirt ground with mournful eyes turned upward. He whined plaintively. Farkas stayed calm in the face of the King’s blustering, but Marie could tell that the tense situation was reaching toward its boiling point. Followers of the Apocalypse had gathered round, ready to intervene if necessary.
“Maybe we should hit the Wrangler instead,” Boone suggested, obviously not interested in dealing with this. Marie was tempted to side with him. Her injuries were beginning to catch up to her; this wasn’t really the time to test her endurance or diplomatic acumen. On the other hand, the King was a friend. Sort of. Kind of. If she squinted. “Not our problem,” he added practically, as if sensing her indecision.
Marie heard the hard crack as bone connected with bone. Her eyes snapped back to Farkas and the King. Both were fine, but there was now a young man on the ground and he was out cold. The King’s hand was tight in a fist. It wasn’t hard to piece together what had happened. Everyone was giving him a wider berth now, except Farkas who was tending to the downed doctor and looking small parts rattlesnake. This was her territory, and she was going to defend it, if need be.
“Now it is,” she said, making a choice.
Whether it was wise, given her condition, she wasn’t sure. If there was one thing she’d learned in recent days, it was that the right decision and the stupid decision weren’t always mutually exclusive. Matters of heart often encompassed both.
“Bad idea,” Boone murmured, but didn’t stop her as she released him, her crutch.
Sheer determination mixed with chems were enough to keep her body mostly obedient to the demands she was placing on it - for the moment. Adrenaline made up the difference. She moved toward the pair of Freeside giants who remained locked in their duel of wills. Having the head of the Kings and the leader of the Followers at one another’s throats boded ill for the state of the struggling city.
“Like hell, you can’t,” the King was saying. “This place is full of doctors. One of ‘em should be able to do somethin’.”
Having tended to her injured ward, Farkas drew herself up. “Like I told you before, we simply don’t have the experience to deal with Rex’s unique problem. I’m sorry.”
Marie reached the King just as he upended one of the tables.
“That’s not good enough!” he barked.
She quickly - or as quickly as one can when one’s got a wounded leg - maneuvered herself between the King and Farkas. His eyes widened. He was surprised to see her, no doubt. The anger drained from his face momentarily, and she had a hope that maybe this whole thing could be resolved peacefully. Minus the punch already thrown, and that table wasn’t getting up any time soon either.
“What’s going on here?” Marie asked.
“Rex here is sick,” the King explained with a torn note in his voice. She looked down at the dog who did appear to be much less energetic than usual. “Has been for some time now. They say his brain is bad, but they won’t help him.”
Marie realized something then, watching him speak with so much concern about his pet. The King was more than just upset. He was afraid - of losing a friend and companion. Rex must have been those things to him, much more than just some dog he’d picked up from a merchant, like he’d originally implied. Behind the anger was fear; behind the fear was love. It would certainly explain why he was on such a war path.
“It’s not like that,” Julie Farkas replied. “We simply don’t have the tools to help Rex. He requires brain surgery, and some sophisticated cybernetics work, too.”
This wasn’t what the King wanted to hear, obviously. He made to step toward Farkas again, intimating a threat, but Marie prevented him by placing her hands to his chest. It was all she could think to do, and immediately regretted it. She winced, not from the contact, but from her broken arm. The King backed down.
“This isn’t helping,” she told him.
His features remained conflicted, dark. “What am I supposed to do? Nothing? A king can’t sit on his hands forever. This King won’t. Not when Rexie’s life is on the line.”
It was hard to think clearly through her physical discomfort. The effort was draining. “I wouldn’t expect you to,” she agreed. “I’ll be the first to admit, I don’t have a solution. Yet. But we’ll figure something out. Later. Not like this.”
Reason finally found an anchor through her words, and held fast. The King nodded, and in a few moments returned to his usual sensibilities. Farkas appeared to relax some, and Marie let her hands fall back to her sides. Order restored, situation defused, mission accomplished. She didn’t feel as proud as she was tired. With her levels of adrenaline plummeting, she found it hard to ignore her injuries any longer.
Marie swayed on her feet, and might have fallen if not for the King. He steadied her.
His soft, blue eyes took in her haggard appearance. It was then he noticed the dark stains on her sleeve. “You’re hurt,” he said, not a question. She didn’t bother contradicting him, and merely nodded. The big boss man emerged as the King swept a commanding gaze across the staggered line of goggling physicians. For the first time, she was getting to see the strong hand of leadership that had earned him his title in action. “Well, don’t just stand there twiddling your thumbs, boys. You’re still doctors, aren’t you? Do something about this. The lady here needs some help.”
She could take care of herself, but wasn’t conceited enough to object to the King’s orders. He actually had the right idea; she badly needed medical aid. Sooner, not later. It was just different - and a bit confusing - to have someone fighting in her corner. Different, but not necessarily bad. His concern was actually a little . . . touching? Was that the right word for this warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through her gut? Marie dismissed the train of thought, reminded herself of her priorities, and instead focused on what she’d come here for: treatment.
The King helped her to one of the tents, and she crashed into a wobbly chair.
“Can’t remember the last time I actually got to sit down,” Marie said, somewhere near delighted to be off her feet finally.
There wasn’t any time for private conversation to pass between the pair before they were joined by a blonde man and his doctor’s bag. Clinical was really the only way she could think to describe the newcomer. His calculating eyes were surrounded by black-rimmed glasses, and she certainly felt like a patient beneath his scrutinizing gaze. He also wore a white lab coat like the rest of the Followers, as if to eliminate any doubt as to his profession and allegiance.
“You take good care of her, y’hear?” the King told the doctor, intentionally quiet but Marie managed to overhear. That bizarre feeling returned, fluttering in her stomach for a few seconds before it was overridden by other, more painful sensations.
“That is my job,” the doctor pointed out, and then the King left.
She had to admit, she was sorry to see him go. Especially since it didn’t look like he had wanted to leave. But if he hadn’t, why did he? She had no answer, and that didn’t really surprise her. Marie rarely understood the motivations of others, beyond greed and vengeance and rage. Those were easy, visceral emotions. It was the altruistic, often ambiguous ones that left her scratching her head.
“Arcade Gannon.”
Marie blinked. “What?”
“My name. I figured we should get those pesky introductions out of the way before I start probing you,” he said. She just stared at him. “That was a joke,” he clarified. “And . . . obviously not a very good one. Which is why I work as a researcher and not a doctor. Lack of people skills, you understand.”
He was retrieving some instruments from his bag. Sharp, metal things that she didn’t trust as tools. They looked more like weapons, at least to her.
“You’re not a doctor?” she said, withdrawing from him.
The so-called doctor looked up. “Oh, no. I am. But bedside manner wasn’t included in my training, so Julie usually sticks me in the back of the fort to work. Your friend the King didn’t make any friends when he punched out Julian, though. Hence, you get me.”
Marie wasn’t sold on his qualifications. She was starting to have second thoughts about letting this guy operate on her arm and leg.
Dr. Gannon ventured a small smile. “Don’t look so worried. You’ll hurt my feelings.” He waited. Marie waited. Was he expecting her to say something? If she looked worried, that was because she was worried. “That’s another joke. You know, why don’t I just patch you up now?”
“Just, be careful,” she told him. “I need those limbs.”
“Let’s see what we’re dealing with here.”
After a brief survey of her injuries, Gannon finally passed a verdict. “Hmm. I’d love to give you some stimpaks and send you on your merry way, but this kind of damage requires a little more finesse to fix. Mind telling me how it happened?”
"Ran into a pack of Fiends. One of the bastards had a lead pipe. Should tell you everything you need to know."
“The injuries are certainly consistent with blunt force trauma. Looks like your arm here is broken.”
“I could have told you that.”
“Leg’s not as bad,” he went on, ignoring her quip. “I’ll give you some Med-X for the pain before I get started.”
She wasn’t at all squeamish and watched him go about his work diligently. The chem helped with the pain, but couldn’t dam off some of the stronger torrents that flooded her system because of a particularly stinging needle here or an accidental bump there. Although she tried to remain silent throughout the process, several times had her crying out - such as when he set her arm. Marie liked to think she had a higher pain tolerance than most, but even her threshold was being pushed to the limit.
“So you and the King, huh? I wouldn’t have pinned you as the sort. You don’t look like one of his typical groupies,” Gannon commented then looked at her expectantly. What, he wanted to engage in some chit-chat? Now? It was easy for him to talk; he wasn’t being sewn up. She cursed his ability to multi-task.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she answered.
He paused, looked at her. Was that skepticism she saw in his eyes? And what the hell was a groo-pee? “Ah,” he said, returning his attention to the task at hand. “Well, never mind. That would explain it then. Let me just remove this foot from my mouth . . .”
Marie thought he might have been done with his strange talk, hoped he was, but he resumed a minute later. It only occurred to her then that maybe this was a conversation meant to distract her from the procedure, but she couldn’t be sure this blonde doctor was clever enough for that. She didn’t know him well enough to tell.
“It’s just that I’ve never seen anyone handle him like that before. He’s a nice guy and all, don’t get me wrong. But when it comes to that dog of his . . . Did you know this was the second time this week he’s come down here? His mutt must be getting worse.”
“Is there really nothing you can do for Rex?” Marie was surprised at the concern she heard in her own voice. She was surprised she cared.
“Everything Julie said is true. We don’t have the equipment or the know-how.”
But. She could practically hear the word in the air.
“Julie did mention this old scientist before - Dr. Henry, I think, who specializes in the sort of procedure that the King’s cyber dog would need. I’m guessing he’d be your best bet. That is, if you’re looking to help out. Last I heard, he was living up in Jacobstown, far to the Northwest. Not an easy trip, by any means.”
Before he was even done speaking, Marie had decided to commit to the venture. Now it was her own motivations that baffled her. It should have been a simple formula of helping someone in need because it was the right thing to do. But she couldn’t help but feel as though there was more to this pressing feeling than that. She didn’t feel obligated to do this great service for the King. She wanted to. Not only for Rex’s benefit, but also his master’s.
The doctor finished shortly. “There,” he said. “All done, though you’ll probably want to take it easy for a few days. Don’t want anything to happen. People will talk, say my work’s sloppy. My reputation would be ruined.”
This time, she caught on. An eyebrow went up. “A joke, right?”
He smiled. “She can be taught.”
“Thank you, Dr. Gannon,” she said, and the words came easier than usual. Maybe because she meant them more than usual. “For this, and the information.”
“No problem. It’s what I’m here for. Well, not really. But I’m flexible.”
Rising, she could feel that she wasn’t quite up to snuff yet. Maybe she should take the doctor’s advice, spend a few days recuperating in Freeside. It wasn’t like the Mojave and its troubles were going anywhere, anytime soon. Marie knew Boone wouldn’t be happy about the break - he didn’t like staying put for too long, something she could definitely sympathize with - but he’d just have to suck it up for the time being. After all, what could he do? Give her the silent treatment?
She took three steps toward the exit, then stopped altogether and turned back.
Curiosity had set her thoughts a-whirling, and now she had to know. Had to understand. The implications were there, taunting her. “Earlier, when you said how I handled the King . . . Care to elaborate?”
Dr. Gannon shrugged.
“Let’s just say, had anyone else done what you did, they would have ended up being black eye buddies with Julian. You must be something special. To him, at least.”
Or read it @ FF.net HERE
Chapter: 3. Hound Dog, Part 1
Fandom: Fallout: New Vegas
Rating: PG-13
Characters: The Courier (Marie), The King, Rex, Julie Farkas, Arcade
Pairing: F!Courier/King
Word Count: 2,879
Summary: What happens when a man playing king meets a woman playing knight? That's when your heartaches begin. A series of oneshots detailing the relationship between the King and a female courier.
A/N: In this chapter, Marie must calm down the King after he's given the bad news that the Followers cannot help Rex.
Previous chapters:
1. Marie's the Name
2. The Wonder of You
The wastes were a lonely place. This was the only explanation she could conceive of for why her injuries liked to come in pairs, never one at a time. She couldn’t just break her leg, she had to break her arm, too. She couldn’t just get stabbed, she had to get shot, too. An ironic buddy system that worked against her safety, instead of in its defense. And it had been like this for as long as she could remember. Only, as a child, it had been scraped knees and colorful bruises instead of life-threatening wounds; difference was these boo-boos didn’t heal all better with a mere kiss from her mother.
Hell, over the years, Marie had practically made getting hurt into an art form - one she was unfortunately more than proficient at. Some might have called it talent, this ability to survive such an vast array of damage. She just called it damned painful.
After a particularly grueling encounter with a party of Fiends, she was really hurting. A lack of stimpaks just made a bad situation worse; she’d had to substitute the medicine with cheap chems just to keep upright. Marie had initially refused Boone’s offer of assistance, but a few miles had since changed her mind. With her one good arm slung around his waist - because he was too tall for her to hug his shoulder - she limped along with only the occasional complaint. Usually about the landscape (whose course nature was not conducive to a cripple) or the weather (which was being a typical nuisance). Boone supported her weight in his usual silence, and when he did speak it was to point out a rock or crevice that could give her trouble. Marie was bloody, beaten, possibly suffering from a little heat stroke, but not blind. She kept her irritable thoughts to herself. He was, after all, only trying to help.
Still, the courier couldn’t help thinking that when he’d agreed to be her spotter, this wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind.
They made it to Freeside in a couple of hours, reaching the not-so-pearly gates around late midday. From there the Old Mormon Fort, home to the Followers of the Apocalypse, was just a hop and a skip away. In her state, hopping and/or skipping was completely out of the question, but the fact remained that treatment was within arm’s reach. And not a moment too soon, because the combination of Jet and Buffout was beginning to wear off.
She staggered inside, and into a new scene of conflict.
The King and Julie Farkas were arguing about something, loudly. Angrily. Something had the normally polite and passive King riled. He kept exaggerating with his hands, pointing to his cyber dog. Rex, wasn’t it? The animal looked downright pitiful, laying on the dirt ground with mournful eyes turned upward. He whined plaintively. Farkas stayed calm in the face of the King’s blustering, but Marie could tell that the tense situation was reaching toward its boiling point. Followers of the Apocalypse had gathered round, ready to intervene if necessary.
“Maybe we should hit the Wrangler instead,” Boone suggested, obviously not interested in dealing with this. Marie was tempted to side with him. Her injuries were beginning to catch up to her; this wasn’t really the time to test her endurance or diplomatic acumen. On the other hand, the King was a friend. Sort of. Kind of. If she squinted. “Not our problem,” he added practically, as if sensing her indecision.
Marie heard the hard crack as bone connected with bone. Her eyes snapped back to Farkas and the King. Both were fine, but there was now a young man on the ground and he was out cold. The King’s hand was tight in a fist. It wasn’t hard to piece together what had happened. Everyone was giving him a wider berth now, except Farkas who was tending to the downed doctor and looking small parts rattlesnake. This was her territory, and she was going to defend it, if need be.
“Now it is,” she said, making a choice.
Whether it was wise, given her condition, she wasn’t sure. If there was one thing she’d learned in recent days, it was that the right decision and the stupid decision weren’t always mutually exclusive. Matters of heart often encompassed both.
“Bad idea,” Boone murmured, but didn’t stop her as she released him, her crutch.
Sheer determination mixed with chems were enough to keep her body mostly obedient to the demands she was placing on it - for the moment. Adrenaline made up the difference. She moved toward the pair of Freeside giants who remained locked in their duel of wills. Having the head of the Kings and the leader of the Followers at one another’s throats boded ill for the state of the struggling city.
“Like hell, you can’t,” the King was saying. “This place is full of doctors. One of ‘em should be able to do somethin’.”
Having tended to her injured ward, Farkas drew herself up. “Like I told you before, we simply don’t have the experience to deal with Rex’s unique problem. I’m sorry.”
Marie reached the King just as he upended one of the tables.
“That’s not good enough!” he barked.
She quickly - or as quickly as one can when one’s got a wounded leg - maneuvered herself between the King and Farkas. His eyes widened. He was surprised to see her, no doubt. The anger drained from his face momentarily, and she had a hope that maybe this whole thing could be resolved peacefully. Minus the punch already thrown, and that table wasn’t getting up any time soon either.
“What’s going on here?” Marie asked.
“Rex here is sick,” the King explained with a torn note in his voice. She looked down at the dog who did appear to be much less energetic than usual. “Has been for some time now. They say his brain is bad, but they won’t help him.”
Marie realized something then, watching him speak with so much concern about his pet. The King was more than just upset. He was afraid - of losing a friend and companion. Rex must have been those things to him, much more than just some dog he’d picked up from a merchant, like he’d originally implied. Behind the anger was fear; behind the fear was love. It would certainly explain why he was on such a war path.
“It’s not like that,” Julie Farkas replied. “We simply don’t have the tools to help Rex. He requires brain surgery, and some sophisticated cybernetics work, too.”
This wasn’t what the King wanted to hear, obviously. He made to step toward Farkas again, intimating a threat, but Marie prevented him by placing her hands to his chest. It was all she could think to do, and immediately regretted it. She winced, not from the contact, but from her broken arm. The King backed down.
“This isn’t helping,” she told him.
His features remained conflicted, dark. “What am I supposed to do? Nothing? A king can’t sit on his hands forever. This King won’t. Not when Rexie’s life is on the line.”
It was hard to think clearly through her physical discomfort. The effort was draining. “I wouldn’t expect you to,” she agreed. “I’ll be the first to admit, I don’t have a solution. Yet. But we’ll figure something out. Later. Not like this.”
Reason finally found an anchor through her words, and held fast. The King nodded, and in a few moments returned to his usual sensibilities. Farkas appeared to relax some, and Marie let her hands fall back to her sides. Order restored, situation defused, mission accomplished. She didn’t feel as proud as she was tired. With her levels of adrenaline plummeting, she found it hard to ignore her injuries any longer.
Marie swayed on her feet, and might have fallen if not for the King. He steadied her.
His soft, blue eyes took in her haggard appearance. It was then he noticed the dark stains on her sleeve. “You’re hurt,” he said, not a question. She didn’t bother contradicting him, and merely nodded. The big boss man emerged as the King swept a commanding gaze across the staggered line of goggling physicians. For the first time, she was getting to see the strong hand of leadership that had earned him his title in action. “Well, don’t just stand there twiddling your thumbs, boys. You’re still doctors, aren’t you? Do something about this. The lady here needs some help.”
She could take care of herself, but wasn’t conceited enough to object to the King’s orders. He actually had the right idea; she badly needed medical aid. Sooner, not later. It was just different - and a bit confusing - to have someone fighting in her corner. Different, but not necessarily bad. His concern was actually a little . . . touching? Was that the right word for this warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through her gut? Marie dismissed the train of thought, reminded herself of her priorities, and instead focused on what she’d come here for: treatment.
The King helped her to one of the tents, and she crashed into a wobbly chair.
“Can’t remember the last time I actually got to sit down,” Marie said, somewhere near delighted to be off her feet finally.
There wasn’t any time for private conversation to pass between the pair before they were joined by a blonde man and his doctor’s bag. Clinical was really the only way she could think to describe the newcomer. His calculating eyes were surrounded by black-rimmed glasses, and she certainly felt like a patient beneath his scrutinizing gaze. He also wore a white lab coat like the rest of the Followers, as if to eliminate any doubt as to his profession and allegiance.
“You take good care of her, y’hear?” the King told the doctor, intentionally quiet but Marie managed to overhear. That bizarre feeling returned, fluttering in her stomach for a few seconds before it was overridden by other, more painful sensations.
“That is my job,” the doctor pointed out, and then the King left.
She had to admit, she was sorry to see him go. Especially since it didn’t look like he had wanted to leave. But if he hadn’t, why did he? She had no answer, and that didn’t really surprise her. Marie rarely understood the motivations of others, beyond greed and vengeance and rage. Those were easy, visceral emotions. It was the altruistic, often ambiguous ones that left her scratching her head.
“Arcade Gannon.”
Marie blinked. “What?”
“My name. I figured we should get those pesky introductions out of the way before I start probing you,” he said. She just stared at him. “That was a joke,” he clarified. “And . . . obviously not a very good one. Which is why I work as a researcher and not a doctor. Lack of people skills, you understand.”
He was retrieving some instruments from his bag. Sharp, metal things that she didn’t trust as tools. They looked more like weapons, at least to her.
“You’re not a doctor?” she said, withdrawing from him.
The so-called doctor looked up. “Oh, no. I am. But bedside manner wasn’t included in my training, so Julie usually sticks me in the back of the fort to work. Your friend the King didn’t make any friends when he punched out Julian, though. Hence, you get me.”
Marie wasn’t sold on his qualifications. She was starting to have second thoughts about letting this guy operate on her arm and leg.
Dr. Gannon ventured a small smile. “Don’t look so worried. You’ll hurt my feelings.” He waited. Marie waited. Was he expecting her to say something? If she looked worried, that was because she was worried. “That’s another joke. You know, why don’t I just patch you up now?”
“Just, be careful,” she told him. “I need those limbs.”
“Let’s see what we’re dealing with here.”
After a brief survey of her injuries, Gannon finally passed a verdict. “Hmm. I’d love to give you some stimpaks and send you on your merry way, but this kind of damage requires a little more finesse to fix. Mind telling me how it happened?”
"Ran into a pack of Fiends. One of the bastards had a lead pipe. Should tell you everything you need to know."
“The injuries are certainly consistent with blunt force trauma. Looks like your arm here is broken.”
“I could have told you that.”
“Leg’s not as bad,” he went on, ignoring her quip. “I’ll give you some Med-X for the pain before I get started.”
She wasn’t at all squeamish and watched him go about his work diligently. The chem helped with the pain, but couldn’t dam off some of the stronger torrents that flooded her system because of a particularly stinging needle here or an accidental bump there. Although she tried to remain silent throughout the process, several times had her crying out - such as when he set her arm. Marie liked to think she had a higher pain tolerance than most, but even her threshold was being pushed to the limit.
“So you and the King, huh? I wouldn’t have pinned you as the sort. You don’t look like one of his typical groupies,” Gannon commented then looked at her expectantly. What, he wanted to engage in some chit-chat? Now? It was easy for him to talk; he wasn’t being sewn up. She cursed his ability to multi-task.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she answered.
He paused, looked at her. Was that skepticism she saw in his eyes? And what the hell was a groo-pee? “Ah,” he said, returning his attention to the task at hand. “Well, never mind. That would explain it then. Let me just remove this foot from my mouth . . .”
Marie thought he might have been done with his strange talk, hoped he was, but he resumed a minute later. It only occurred to her then that maybe this was a conversation meant to distract her from the procedure, but she couldn’t be sure this blonde doctor was clever enough for that. She didn’t know him well enough to tell.
“It’s just that I’ve never seen anyone handle him like that before. He’s a nice guy and all, don’t get me wrong. But when it comes to that dog of his . . . Did you know this was the second time this week he’s come down here? His mutt must be getting worse.”
“Is there really nothing you can do for Rex?” Marie was surprised at the concern she heard in her own voice. She was surprised she cared.
“Everything Julie said is true. We don’t have the equipment or the know-how.”
But. She could practically hear the word in the air.
“Julie did mention this old scientist before - Dr. Henry, I think, who specializes in the sort of procedure that the King’s cyber dog would need. I’m guessing he’d be your best bet. That is, if you’re looking to help out. Last I heard, he was living up in Jacobstown, far to the Northwest. Not an easy trip, by any means.”
Before he was even done speaking, Marie had decided to commit to the venture. Now it was her own motivations that baffled her. It should have been a simple formula of helping someone in need because it was the right thing to do. But she couldn’t help but feel as though there was more to this pressing feeling than that. She didn’t feel obligated to do this great service for the King. She wanted to. Not only for Rex’s benefit, but also his master’s.
The doctor finished shortly. “There,” he said. “All done, though you’ll probably want to take it easy for a few days. Don’t want anything to happen. People will talk, say my work’s sloppy. My reputation would be ruined.”
This time, she caught on. An eyebrow went up. “A joke, right?”
He smiled. “She can be taught.”
“Thank you, Dr. Gannon,” she said, and the words came easier than usual. Maybe because she meant them more than usual. “For this, and the information.”
“No problem. It’s what I’m here for. Well, not really. But I’m flexible.”
Rising, she could feel that she wasn’t quite up to snuff yet. Maybe she should take the doctor’s advice, spend a few days recuperating in Freeside. It wasn’t like the Mojave and its troubles were going anywhere, anytime soon. Marie knew Boone wouldn’t be happy about the break - he didn’t like staying put for too long, something she could definitely sympathize with - but he’d just have to suck it up for the time being. After all, what could he do? Give her the silent treatment?
She took three steps toward the exit, then stopped altogether and turned back.
Curiosity had set her thoughts a-whirling, and now she had to know. Had to understand. The implications were there, taunting her. “Earlier, when you said how I handled the King . . . Care to elaborate?”
Dr. Gannon shrugged.
“Let’s just say, had anyone else done what you did, they would have ended up being black eye buddies with Julian. You must be something special. To him, at least.”
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