Disclaimer: All characters and settings belong to Bethesda.
A/N: Writing this just to get it out of my head. I don't have a beta reader, so please excuse the typos and mistakes. – Pinoko K. Contact info: gmail - pinoko19. tumblr - pinoko-k.
Ending Spoiler. Beware.
Trust No One
Part One
Trust no one.
"Do you trust me?" she asked as they walked down the streets of the Commonwealth.
"Why do you ask?" he countered with a smirk. "You know something I don't?"
There was no eyeroll, no usual banter. Instead, Deacon spotted a hint of sadness flashed across Fixer's face. Fixer – that was not her real name, it's one she'd chosen the day she'd joined their little dysfunctional family. If it were up to Deacon, he'd call her the Frozen Lawyer. Or the Blast from the Past.
"Something wrong?" Deacon probed when there was no answer.
"I... need you to do something for me."
There was definitely something wrong. He switched from sarcastic to sincere in the blink of an eye. "Anything for you, pal."
"Meet me at Goodneighbor tomorrow night."
He just couldn't resist. "Why? You asking me out?"
Again, there was no glare, not even a snort. Only more sadness.
"The Third Rail," said Fixer, ignoring his jest. "Be there."
"All right." The door to the old church creaked as Deacon pushed it open. Two steps in, and he noticed Fixer wasn't following. "You not coming?"
Standing at the doorstep, Fixer only looked at him. Dim lights from the church cast a soft glow on her face. Her eyes shone more than usual.
Was that... tear?
"No," said Fixer after a pause. "...Preston wanted me to take care of something."
That was a lie. Deacon could spot it from miles away. Still, he played along, "Another settlement needs help, huh? Ain't no rest for the wicked. See you tomorrow, then."
Her lips parted as if to speak, but there was no word. Fixer gave a stiff nod, then turned and walked away.
Deacon counted to ten, then followed. Hidden in shadows, he tailed the Railroad secret weapon. Her steps were usually slow. Her head was down as if she was drowning in her own thoughts. Not once had she looked up, not even the echos of firefights a few blocks down could get her attention.
Deacon frowned, both in confusion and dismay. Fixer was careful; it wasn't like her to be oblivious to her surroundings.
What the hell was going on? Was it because of all the deaths caused by their most recent, and by far the most spectacular mission? Blowing up that blimp in the sky, Deacon wondered if there's anything they'd do to top that one. No, not that. Was it because of Glory, then? Hell, that one hit hard for him, more than Deacon would ever admit.
Fixer made a turn and walked into a dark alley between two abandon buildings. Had she noticed he'd been tailing her? Took her long enough.
Deacon carefully peeked around the corner. Part of him expected to see a woman with her arms folded, an eyebrow arched, glaring at him, expecting an explanation for being shadowed.
What greeted him was nothing but an empty alley.
