Faces often melted and faded in Cooper’s memories. After two hundred years, he couldn’t recall seeing the same face twice. The face of someone he’d spent years alongside and one he’d passed in the street were one in the same in his mind.

But this face... this one made him pause.

He had been hunting down the vaultie for a few days now. It was a lucrative business; the Brotherhood wanted them, for this reason or that. Liabilities, they called ‘em -- they’ll continue to make pre-war technology if they aren’t exterminated. Cooper didn’t really care. Every man’s mission was his own.

He hadn’t seen the face at first as they struggled. Then he managed to have them pinned to the sand, cold knife pressed to their throat, and... ah. That face. Those eyes, expression. He’d seen it before. A long time ago....

Then it clicked. Hit him like a pile of bricks. He faltered, grimace of effort falling.

His ex. Still alive after two hundred years. And... now beneath him. As breathtaking as he remembered.