It was one of those nights where the sky closes in on you and the stars seem to burn your skin. The moonlight creates shadows throughout the city and in your head. The shadows move silently through the abandoned buildings and through the abandoned parts of your memory. It was this silence that could never let me forget, it was the silence that offered no escape. There were no urgent missions or ruthless enemies. It was always this fucking silence that she had loved so much. She would toss and turn beside me, and whisper,
"Deacon? Deacon? Do you hear that?" And she would grip my callused hand, rough against her soft palms. I would always humor her, squeeze her small hand, and say,
"I think it was the fire alarm. We really need to change those batteries". A smile would tug at her lips and she would rise up from the bed, with me in tow. She would throw the door open and just stand there for a moment, letting the cool air wash over her skin, tousle her hair. Once goosebumps rose on her skin, she would step out into the wasteland. Each and every time she would flawlessly scale whatever building we may be settling in, all the way up to the roof. She would relax her muscles and hang her feet off the edge of the building. She would close her eyes and let out a heavy sigh, as if a burden was being lifted from her shoulder. I would sit beside her, soaking up each and every detail about her. In my mind, I traced over her little worry lines on her forehead, the arch in her brows, the bridge of her nose, the pout on her lips. We would sit together in a beautiful, comfortable silence, where we would simply bask in each other's presence. It were these moments with her that I felt whole, that I felt true. The silence was like a warm blanket that hushed the monsters in my mind and the lies on my tongue.
My hand would eventually find hers and we would sit, fingers laced together, nothing but the sound of our hushed breaths and the gentle moonlight that illuminated the freckles on her face. I desperately wished we could sit here forever, with no lies, no words, no Commonwealth. Only us, only the warmth we could get from each other, only the silence we could share between us.
But the moment would always be ripped away with the break of dawn. She would lazily open her eyes and lean onto my shoulder.
"Did you hear it, Deacon? The silence. The peace", she would whisper every single time. I would
always smile down at her, and whisper
"You know, I'm always in your corner, boss. Always have been." She would grip my hand for a moment, her breath would hitch, a smile would tug at her lips. But then her body would begin to shudder as the weight was pushed back onto her shoulders. Her bones would creak beneath the pressure and she would let go of my hand before slowly climbing back to the ground. Reality would set in again, but it never seemed quite as scary with her by my side.
But now I could never take comfort in the silence. It became a breeding ground of demons, it became the music to my sorrows. She was my rock through this world. I always cracked the jokes or carried myself with confidence, but all of it was a lie. I am a scarred, shell of a man. I lost Barbara, I betrayed my own morales. I detached myself from this world, I made new identities, new memories. But the silence washed the past over me, a constant tsunami that kept getting in my eyes, salt that burned long after the storm. But then she came along, in a tight blue suit that highlighted the lost look in her big blue eyes. She stepped into this world, bold and determined. We walked side by side through the bloody Prydwen, we destroyed the Institute menace, and we saved the Railroad. She was a hero and she was brave. But once it was all over, all she wanted was me. She just wanted to spend her days with everything wrong with this fucking place. All she craved was the touch a liar. But she saw the tenderness in me, buried way, way back. She saw the heart of a skinny, fire-haired man, with a spit-fire personality to match. She saw who Barbara saw, and that took my breath away.
We ran away, the world at our backs, the wind on our skin. We lived freely, stopping at small settlements in disguise to mess around with the settlers. We were chased out of towns, fell into raider territory, talked our way out. We always ran away with tears of laughter, our bellies hurting from eating too much Blanco Mac n' cheese. We lived like this until she revealed her pregnancy. I was shocked, but overjoyed to think of a family. She carried our daughter to the end, but her body couldn't take it anymore. Our baby lay in her arms and she breathed short, rigid breaths. She gripped my hand the way she did those nights on the roof. She smiled at me weakly, her lips moving to say something, but she was so quiet I had to lean in to hear her.
"And I will always be in your corner, Deacon." And with that, the light of my life, the sun to my sky burned out. The freckles on her skin were like bugs, stark against her deathly white face.
"Daddy?" A voice broke the silence, shattered the memories that had resurfaced in my mind. I turned my head to see her, her auburn curls sticking up in different directions, her big blue eyes focused on me. I took a deep breath, preparing myself to be strong for her, but the tears on my cheeks just wouldn't stop, the salt in my eyes just continued to burn. Her chubby, toddler legs struggled to run across the wooden floor and she crashed into my arms. She settled into my lap and I held her close to me. I felt that warmth, that blanket the silence had offered me many years ago.
I'll always be in your corner. Always have been.