Butch DeLoria Fallout 3 Warning: Angst, Slight Gore
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I heard the front door open, and smiled, bounding down the stairs. Once the door shut, I saw Butch. It was dim, since I had planned on going to sleep, but I knew it was him. He looked up at me, "Oh... Hey. Go on up to bed, I'm right behind you..."
His voice seemed strained and I frowned, moving toward him, "Are you okay...?"
He turned his back, locking the door and keeping his face hidden from me, "Yeah, doll, I'm alright... go on up to bed..."
"No, seriously, what's the matter?"
He sighed, speaking softly, "God damn it, just go to sleep..."
I frowned, moving towards our kitchen and turning on the light. I saw his tunnel snake jacket and frowned in confusion. He was standing with his back to me, leaning heavily against the door. I spoke gently, "Butch, what's going on?"
"Nothing, please, just go to bed, I don't want you to see me like this..."
"See you like what?" I made my way over to him, "What are you talking about?"
"I love you."
"I... I love you too."
I put a hand on his shoulder and he turned his body away from me. I yanked him around and saw his eyes, glossy and blue. I examined them for a second, then frowned, "Why are you acting like this? What happened?"
He clenched his jaw, looking down. My eyes followed his, down his body until I saw the knife buried into his ribs. He sucked in a breath, "Go to bed, please."
I took a small step back, "Butch, we have to get you to a doctor..."
He shook his head, "No, it's too late, I just... I just came home to tell you I love you..."
He had his left hand secured and pushing down around the blade, applying pressure to the wound while his other hand gripped the doorknob so he wouldn't topple. I wrapped my arm around his waist and got him over to the couch, "Butch, you... You're not gonna die on me, are you?"
Butch wasn't one to lie, so when he clenched his jaw and averted my eyes, I knew what was going to happen. Lord knows how long the knife had been there... He sat down on the couch, his head leaning back on the cushion comfortably. He wrapped a hand around the blade's hilt, and before I could stop him, he yanked the blade from his side, sucking in a breath and groaning in pain. Blood quickly seeped from the open wound, making his complexion whiten more than it already had. I pushed a hand to the wound, feeling his thick, warm blood pour between my fingers. I began to panic and tears pricked my eyes, "No, Butch, you can't do this... We can get you to the doctor..."
He shook his head, "No, don't... I came here to tell you I love you..."
He put his hand over mine, getting blood on his fingers. He pulled my hand from the wound and intertwined our fingers, looking into my eyes and sighing lightly, "You never gave up on me, huh...?"
By now, quiet sobs were shaking my body and I ran my fingers through his hair, trying to keep him going. He spoke softly, "Hey, hey, don't cry... Look, I'm... I'm not sure how much longer I can hold on, but... I love you. And tell her that I love her too, okay? Tell her, alright?"
I nodded, "I will... I- I love you too, Butch." I pushed my lips to his, and when I separated, I felt his hand squeeze mine weakly before all his muscles relaxed. I put my head on his shoulder, sobbing quietly and hugging him as best I could.
I heard the soft padding of footsteps and looked over to where our daughter emerged from her room, voice tired and the feet of her teddy bear skimming the floor, "What's going on, Mommy?"
I shook my head, "Nothing... go back to bed... Daddy wanted me to tell you that he loves you."
