"Ah damn it," Cait growled, gazing at the back of her freckled hand. The sun was beating down hot over the Commonwealth, nearing unbearable as the temperature rose. The ensuing discomfort was only increased by the vicious bout of combat she'd just gone through. The Super Mutant hadn't gone down easily, almost managing to bring his lead pipe across her skull. If she hadn't gotten her shotgun up in time…
Bah, not worth thinking about.
Still, even as the mutant's ugly mug exploded beneath the force of two close-range shotgun shells, Cait felt the spray of something even hotter than the sun, her own sweat, and the shotgun barrels. The chunks of whatever meaty substance were included within that spray didn't exactly fill her with joy.
As she'd suspected but was hoping beyond realistic faith wouldn't be the reality, she'd been covered in Super Mutant gore. "That shite's going to take forever to get out," she mumbled under her breath, looking down her arm at the mutant's remains baking into her clothing beneath the sun's scorching rays. Although, all bitching aside, cleaning a few shirts was far preferred to being smashed to pulp and stuffed into a shopping cart for a Super Mutant breakfast, Cait was quite sure of that analysis.
When Alexander had nudged her awake that morning, with breakfast already prepared she knew something was afoot. That man wouldn't have gone through the effort of whipping up her preferred meal without some ulterior motive. While Alexander was a fine cook, and happy to do so often, the combination of grilled mole rat flank stakes with coffee, fried tatos and razorgrain pancakes was neither the easiest to produce nor the most resource efficient.
Still, as they'd sat down in the partially resorted house of tomorrow, in the heart of Sanctuary Hills, eating breakfast around a table while Dogmeat rolled lazily on the floor beside them, Cait noted the faraway look of contentment in her partner's eyes with a smile. It was a nice change of pace to see him happy and enjoying something so casual as breakfast, which he mentioned he'd done every morning in that long-ago time before the bombs. Cait wasn't a woman for sentiment and yet she'd be lying if she said she didn't enjoy seeing him genuinely happy. The peaceful sensation of gazing into his bearded face over a warm mug of steaming coffee almost wiped away the darkness she'd left behind long ago.
She was so happy to be spending the early morning with her beloved, which was likely his intention, that when he got out his Pipboy and pointed out a location marked, "West Everett Estates," she managed to maintain her smile.
"Super Mutants are crawling all over the place," he'd explained, gesturing dramatically with his hands to illustrate the story he was telling. "MacCready and I stumbled across it during a trip down to Goodneighbor. He pointed out that it might be a great location to set up a new settlement, seeing as the Minutemen are about ready to expand again and Blake Abernathy insists we can't but another shack on his farm."
"So you want to kill a bunch of muties?" Cait told him bluntly, taking a long drink from her coffee, black as she preferred it, trying to formulate her next response carefully, "I hate fighting muites." She shook her head, the mane of messy red hair jostling about in all directions, "They're tough, real damn tough. I had to go bare-knuckled against one back in the Combat Zone. Tommy sold a shite ton of tickets for that match. To this day I've got no idea how he managed to capture the big bastard alive." Gazing down into the darkness of her coffee, the freckled Irishwoman could almost hear the roar of the crowd screaming for blood, see the muscle-bound slab of green flesh towering over her, and feel the pain in her body as the Super Mutant struck her repeatedly. "I was high out of my friggin mind on psycho so I barely remember the fight. I know he broke my nose," she tapped the facial feature bent notably out of shape, "And loosened plenty of teeth." She finished the coffee, taking up the pot and pouring herself a second cup of the stuff, steam still gently rising upward from the dark liquid. "I killed him, but don't ask me how. Psycho's a hell of a drug." She shuddered, scratching her freckled arms absently, her skin remembering the sensation of the chems even if she wished it wouldn't, through the fluffy pink bathrobe she wore in the mornings. Sturges had once made the mistake of mocking it when she'd absentmindedly come out of the house one morning without changing. He'd suffered a few punches for his trouble and hadn't repeated the accusations.
Cait shuddered notably, "I don't like fighting Mutants," she repeated bluntly, drinking from the second mug of coffee, "They're about the only thing that scare me…" She shook her head again, "And you're asking me, and not Preston or Hancock to come with you on this?"
"Not just you!" Alexander quickly explained, throwing up his hands, "I'm bringing MacCready, a full squad of Minutemen, Dogmeat and Preston as backup. This is a big camp and I'm not going in half-assed." He paused, moving his hand across the table, and taking her rough, battered one in his own, "I know you don't want to do this, that's okay. If you really don't want to I'm not going to force it. But…" He shrugged, "I'm not sure what it is, call it instinct, call it intuition I don't care." He tightened his grip, moving his free hand so as to properly cup hers, "Something tells me this is going to be a slug, and there's no better scrapper than you. I'll feel a lot better with you in my corner."
"So? This is for a new settlement?" She asked skeptically, running her unoccupied hand along the grizzled, scarred face of her love, "I know you've done plenty of stupid crap for no better reason."
"Darling…" He told her, chewing thoughtfully over his words, "With the Institute gone, I think the Minutemen have a real chance of uniting the Commonwealth, to keep the people safe. But we can't do that if we don't act quickly. This Super Mutant group is large enough that given some time they could gather up the smaller bands and grow into something that could do real damage. I want to stop that before it starts."
"So, this is part of that dream of yours eh?" She told him with a slight smile. When he nodded sheepishly that smile broadened, "Ah damn it. Love is stupid," he chuckled at her humorous tone and after a moment she followed suite.
That's how she ended up in the assault on West Everett Estates, part of an attacking force taking a small step towards an impossible goal Alexander shared with very few people. There'd been close calls, several wounded on their side, MacCready's quick work with his sniper rifle saving Preston from the one Super Mutant who figured a suicidal rush with a bomb was the way to go. Cait had used her entire satchel of Molotov cocktails and actually had to beat one Super Mutant down with her bat when she failed to slip her replacement shells into the shotgun fast enough.
Alexander was magnificent, slashing through arms and legs with Shem Drowne's sword, blasting aside various Super Mutant attackers with his revolver and occasionally retrieving either his assault rifle or Reba II from their place on his back. His tailcoat fluttered in the wind, tricorn hat a notable visual that always marked Charles as the general, even if the uniform wasn't a dead giveaway. Whenever possible, Cait stole glances towards the systematic destroyer she had the privilege to call lover. Despite all her misgivings about going up against the greenskins, which continued all the way through that combat, there was nothing quite like watching Alexander go to work. All his passion, all his rage and all his ferocious, Yao-guai like protectiveness stood bare before any witness, all those purities about him that, despite his somewhat foolish and constant good-Samaritan behavior, drew all Cait's attention and love, were clear to see. That made any battle worth the struggle, the chance to see her man truly live and thrive.
He'd told her a few times he'd been a soldier in the war before the bombs and once he'd been commended for bravery. In those moments when they fought side by side, Cait believed every scrap and hint of lore about his military career, he was an engine of destruction and she loved it.
The combat was finally won without one notable loss on the Minutemen's side. Preston was moving among the injured, laser musket braced against his shoulder while administrating Stimpaks where needed. Dogmeat bounced around happily, rummaging around in the buildings and pawing at the old refrigerators in an attempt to dislodge any meat hidden within. Those Minutemen still standing seemed to follow the dog's example, exploring the buildings and walls, already assembling a pile of notable salvage for the return trip to Sanctuary Hills. The mission had been an overwhelming success.
Leaning against the nearest still standing house, grateful for the shade Cait fished around in her haversack, fingers managing to find the bottle of Nuka-cola cherry after only a few minutes. The soft drink did wonders for both her attitude and internal temperature, cooling both significantly. She stood beneath the shade of that house constructed long ago by hands long dead for a company forgotten like so many others, casually fiddling with the cap on the bottle of cola. After a few moments of indecision Cait decided against saving the beverage, finishing the bottle's contents and pinching the cap off into the jingling pouch on her belt. Taking the empty bottle in one hand, the woman threw it against one of the far concrete walls, listening to the cathartic sound of shattering glass.
While wiping the gore from her skin best she could was a loose scrap of cloth she considered finding out if any of these houses held a functioning bed for a nap when she saw MacCready waving her over with the frantic spasming gestures of genuine panic. Resisting the urge to role her eyes at the sniper, Cait picked up her shotgun and jogged across the Estates towards him. He was fiddling nervously with his cap and kicking the dust at his feet while glancing about wildly.
"What the hell's wrong MacCready?" the woman asked gruffly, feeling the lingering, ghostly itching along her skin that was occurring less and less since the treatment in Vault 95 but still irritated her whenever the sensation reared its ugly head. Then she noticed the shed behind the young ex-gunner. Buried beneath the small building's simple floor was a set of steel doors, leading downward into the earth, thrown open by some hasty descent. MacCready kept sending concerned glances towards it, as if expecting something to occur.
"Alexander went down there." He said bluntly, in a tone that sent shivers down Cait's spine. "He was picking through some of the entries left on one of the terminals and read something about a bunker full of supplies. I stayed behind to cover the entrance, in case any more muties showed up and…well…" The sniper paused, very much aware he was talking to the very protective, and dangerous, mate of the man down in the bunker. "He's not come back…"
"And you haven't gone down to check?" Cait growled, shoving past MacCready towards the concrete steps. She was halfway down them when the sound made its way upward, a gentle sobbing, as if hands were muffling the owner's tears.
"He's not in danger," the sniper explained cautiously, "But…"
Cait put two and two together, "Take off, MacCready," she ordered, returning her shotgun to its place on her back. "I'll take care of it." Seeming grateful for the opportunity to avoid any potential awkwardness, the ex-gunner nodded and moved towards Preston, shouting something about needing to do a careful sweep of the houses.
As for the sturdy Irishwoman, she went down the stairs slowly, hand gently brushing against the rough concrete walls. The sobbing, though still somewhat muffled and soft was clearer, now beyond a doubt, the voice of her beloved. She descended the stairs two at a time, rough boots hitting the floor with a notable thud.
The bunker was like any other she'd seen, and looted, over the course of her wasteland wanderings, with one notable difference. The small kitchen was still mostly intact, with refrigerator, sink and stove all appearing in good working order. A large set of iron shelves went up to the bunker's ceiling, groaning beneath the weight of varying supplies, canned food, spare clothing and tools. A ham radio still crackled and the soft glow of a terminal could be seen emanating from a desk towards the rear of the room.
What set this particular shelter apart from the rest was the large collection of children's toys placed with care in various footlockers and milk crates. None of those details drew her immediate attention however; it was instead focused solely on her man and his state of distress.
Alexander appeared physically unharmed, there were no signs he'd been injured and the bunker appeared free of unknown assailants. Yet there he was, Reba II lying on the floor discarded, curled up in a ball before the glowing terminal, sobbing into his hands. His body was quivering, shaking, as if he were trying to restore some semblance of control to his battered faculties but just couldn't.
Instantly Cait moved dashing across the bunker to her man's side. "Hey," she asked him softly, reaching a rough hand to cup his face. "What's wrong, my love?" She took his cheeks in both hands, lowering her head until their foreheads pressed together. His face was damp with tears, rolling down his beard before hitting the floor with slight, gentle plops. He mumbled something under his breath she couldn't quite make out. "Baby…I'm here now, shush, it's going to be alright."
You've carried me so many times, loved me when I couldn't love myself. Showed me value, worth and care. I can carry you for as long as you need, no questions asked.
Looking up to meet her gaze, his deep blue eyes conveyed a grief she'd not seen from him in a long time. He'd been haunted after he'd returned from the attack on the Institute which ended in the nuclear explosion of the facility; clearly horrified by something witnessed there he'd not shared with her. After that day however, it was like a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders, as if he were free to live again knowing the Commonwealth was safe. Yet now…
"Terminal," he managed to get out, trying to catch his breath and halt the flow of tears down his scarred face, "The holotape on the terminal. It was…" Cait pulled him tightly against her, wrapping toned fighter's arms protectively around her mate.
"It's okay…" She cooed gentle rocking the leader of the Minutemen back and forth, happy to let him vent to her safe from all the pressures of command, protecting the Commonwealth and balancing protocol and duty.
"It was a little kid…" he blabbered out, trying to get through his explanation, "His mom was missing and he was trying to record a message for her, but something was attacking them and his dad was yelling about having to leave, but this kid wanted to grab his stuffed Jangles…" Cait struggled to read between the sobs and heaving breaths but was quite certain she'd gotten most of it. "But his brother dragged him out on dad's orders…the kid was screaming." He paused, gazing towards the cold concrete floor…"I don't think they made it." He glanced towards the bedroom unit that Cait had managed to miss during her initial survey of the bunker. Sure enough, sitting patiently on the bunk-bed's upper bunk was a Jangles the moon monkey, gazing plainly out at nothing. "They didn't come back." He whispered with the same dead-voiced tone he'd used to state the likely fate of the family.
Cait had gone cold to tragedy and horror; she'd grown up in the Wasteland after all and knew that stories like this were far too common. But she forgot just how truly alien and awful this must be to someone like Alexander who'd lived in the before times and wasn't used to the full savagery of the Commonwealth, no matter what he claimed otherwise.
As she clutched him tight against her chest Cait's mind tried to rummage through what she knew in a desperate attempt to end the suffering of her partner, when the pieces slowly began to click. The likely death of children was always tragic, but to someone like Alexander who'd lost his only child…the account would have been horrifyingly similar.
"It's not your fault you know," she told him gently, stroking his damp hair, which had become matted and tangled with sweat, as best she could, "You couldn't have done any better…"
"I didn't fight hard enough, fast enough," he told her grimly between continuing tears, "If I'd managed to break free of that pod. If I'd made it to Kellogg and grabbed his gun maybe…I…" he hung his head defeated, "Maybe I could have saved Nora. Maybe I could have saved Shaun."
"Look here, Alexander," Cait told him firmly, rising up his head to meet her gaze, "You did everything you could and then some. It's a hell of a lot more than my own deadbeat pa ever did for me, that's for damn sure. You were a great father. I know it and more importantly, I think Shaun knew it to, in the end."
"I killed him Cait," Alexander said suddenly, very bluntly without a trace of emotion, grief included, as if stating the words themselves deadened him internally. "I killed my son."
"What do you mean?" The Irishwoman asked softly, unsure if she wanted more details but knowing how this must have been eating away at him, buried beneath work and combat.
"After Danse, Preston and I managed to fight our way into the Institute I headed up to Shaun's office alone to lower the reactor's defenses while they held the lower levels. When I got into the room I saw him just…lying there, in some kind of machine; dying of a disease I didn't catch the name of. My son, watching helplessly as his father destroyed everything he'd built in his final moments. I tried to reason with him and I think I broke through Cait, I think I did. He actually gave me the code for his personal terminal, allowing me to sound the evacuation order. Then he turned over in his bed so his back was all I saw, then he cursed me." The entire description was given in a robotic monotone, as if Alexander had been a mere observer, rather than a player in those events. "I told myself, I didn't want him suffering, didn't want him burning in the remains of his labs. So I walked up behind him, softly, so he couldn't hear me coming, and put a single bullet in the back of his skull. Boom. Then he was dead, my son, killed by my own hand."
"Baby…" Cait whispered, pressing her forehead back against his own, "You did what you thought was best, out of love for your son, not because you wanted to hurt him. You knew it was over and it was better that way. To die with some dignity in the labs he'd built while they were standing, not suffering in a burning ruin. His life, and his death, was not your fault." She turned her attention towards the terminal, "You don't know what happened to the father and his sons, they could have made it. You don't know what will happen to the future you either. You're still the same man you were before all this shite happened and the world changed, I know it." She kissed him softly on the forehead, tasting the salty sweat that had drenched it, "You've got good things ahead of you. And, you've got someone who loves you, very much. Even if you drive her crazy some times." At that apt description of their relationship Alexander couldn't help but laugh, chuckling all the more in response to the sorrow he'd just experienced.
"I do drive you crazy sometimes, don't I?" he asked mirthfully, a smile breaking through the cloud of sadness.
"That you do." Then she said seriously gazing directly into his face to ensure he caught every word, "I know what you believe needs to be done in the Commonwealth, what you dream of doing. Take the grief you felt and take the hope you believe, use both of them to drive yourself forward and do what needs to be done for your home and for all of us." She looked him dead in those deep blue eyes and said, "You want to protect the Commonwealth? Don't forget what it looked like before you started."
Sniffling the last, Alexander wiped his eyes with the back of his gloved hand, a new look of determination set across his features. "You're right, love." He stood, picking up Reba II in the process, "I can't forget stories like this bunker, not if I'm going to have any real chance at saving everyone who depends on me." He glanced into the bedroom, "But I'm not leaving Jangles here to rot away or be stolen. If that kid is still out there he's going to want his friend back."
The couple left the bunker a few minutes after that, gathered up Dogmeat, Preston and MacCready, returning to Sanctuary Hills with scrap, salvage and news of a location now clear for settlers to begin a new life. They also took with them one Jangles the moon monkey, gazing onward unblinkingly towards his new safe haven with the same neutral expression most stuffed toys bore.
In its place, attached to the wall with several carefully place hunks of duct tape, was the following message, written out in pen on a scrap of loose paper found within.
"Hi kid, don't be afraid. My name's Alexander and I'm with a group called the Minutemen. We help people like you and try to make the Commonwealth a better place. I didn't want your friend Jangles to be lonely or hurt so I've taken him back with me to Sanctuary Hills to wait for your return. If you find this message, ask any of the Minutemen you see and tell them I sent you, they'll point you in the right direction. Until then, I'll protect him and do my absolute best to protect you and others like you. You have my solemn word on that. Alexander Blackwood, General, Paladin, Friend."
Beneath that first message was a second, written in much blocker, less elegant lettering, "And I'll keep Alexander safe, even after you come to get your monkey back, that is my solemn word. Cait."
AN: Don't worry, I haven't abandoned Broken Lookout and am, in fact, working hard on the next chapter of that tale. I was just playing FO4 the other day and was so emotionally moved by the holotape in West Everett Estates that I had to write something about it, (Seriously, I still get chills thinking about it.) Hope you enjoyed!