Thanks for all the excitement, guys! I'm looking forward to this one too. :)
"Again."
River resisted the urge to snap at poor Preston Garvey, especially because he was somewhat timid and she knew it would upset him. It wasn't his fault she was so bad at this, or that it was so fucking hot out here, or that her husband was dead and her hometown was a wasteland and it still took every last ounce of her will not to just curl up into a ball and die. Instead, she pressed the stock of the rifle back to her shoulder and lined up the shot to try again. She inhaled, held her breath, and hit it this time, the tin can flying off the cinder blocks where they'd set it up.
"Better," Preston approved, and already she regretted her brief anger at the man. He was the first living soul she'd come across besides Dogmeat and Codsworth, and she would never for the rest of her life forget the breathtaking relief of hearing another human's voice calling out to her. Thanks to him, Sanctuary was a home again. Thanks to him, she wasn't completely, utterly alone.
"Thank you," she said quietly, and she forced herself to meet his gaze. She'd prided herself once on her interpersonal skills - best sweet-talker at the firm, they'd called her - but now, after what she'd seen, after what she'd lost, she just didn't have it in her anymore.
"Don't mention it," he replied quickly, looking a little bashful, and if she didn't know any better, she'd say he was blushing. It was kind of cute . . . such an innocent, human reaction. Briefly, for just a moment, she almost felt like herself again - she remembered flustering her fair share of handsome men before the Big Nap. Felt pretty good, and good was something she hadn't felt in a hot pink minute. "You're getting a lot better."
"That's good to hear. I think I shot a weapon all of maybe four times before the war? But. . . ."
"It's different," Preston finished for her understandingly. "You learn quick out here, or not at all. Just another hard wasteland truth."
"Seems like there's a lot of those."
"Unfortunately. That's why good people need to stick together. We already got enough workin' against us without giving each other more grief."
River studied his face, and god bless him, he really seemed to mean it somehow. Preston Garvey was gonna carry the fight for humanity all by himself if he had to, but he wouldn't give up hope. What kind of horrors have you seen, friend? And yet still you keep on fighting. She almost resented him for the strength she couldn't seem to find. Time, she reminded herself. Give yourself time. And then, like always, But how much more time does Shaun have? Maybe his time is already up. . . . Ah, right. The panic spiral. This is why I can't fucking pull myself together.
"Miss River?"
She turned to see Codsworth floating down the street toward them. She'd told Nate, centuries ago, that they didn't need a robot butler. But the second she saw him outside of her broken home just like the day they'd left it, she'd never been happier to be wrong. She honestly should've been used to it by now - Nate was always right. Even from the grave.
"I've prepared dinner for you, Mum."
"You're a godsend," River praised him, and he seemed to hover a little higher as she followed him back to the house that had stopped being her home the day her family was ripped apart.
This is crazy. This is fucking crazy. I'm fucking crazy.
MacCready crept through the sleeping Gunner camp, cursing every tiny creak and rustle he made. Luckily they were a bunch of idiots who drank themselves stupid every night. Couldn't really hear shit over the sound of their collective snoring - Seriously, I'll kill myself if I ever snore like that someday.
He shifted his bag higher onto his shoulder and stepped carefully onto the narrow elevator. He pressed the button and it jerked to life - loud, way too fucking loud, and slow enough to get him killed, though he supposed running out on the Gunners probably wasn't a big enough offense for them to bother tracking him down.
All the stolen supplies that weighed heavily at the bottom of his bag . . . that might be a different story.
"Come on, come on, comeoncomeoncomeon," he urged the elevator under his breath. He could hear voices up above, and started to panic. He peered down at the ground, trying to gauge the height through the darkness. That's not that far of a drop, is it? No, I can totally make that -
He leapt, had just enough time to realize how fast the ground was coming at him before he landed hard on his ankles, rolling a little too late to lessen the impact.
OW, FUCK, OW, NO I COULDN'T!
MacCready struggled to his feet, trying to ignore the blinding pain in his ankles. He hobbled as fast as his legs could carry him, and over his shoulder, he could hear Winlock's furious scream, "MACCREADY! You're fucking DEAD!"
But the elevator had just touched ground, and it would have to make it all the way back up before they could board it. MacCready was terrible at a lot of things, but he knew how to disappear, and by the time Winlock and his goons had made it to the ground, he was nowhere to be found.
He didn't stop moving until he'd made all the way it to Diamond City, not even to use a stimpak, and he was really going to regret it once the adrenaline faded, but for now he could enjoy the blissful freedom of being on his own again and answering to nobody.
Well, nobody except the Diamond City guard he had to bribe to let him in at such a late hour, but a few caps was a small price to pay for a safe place to sleep for the night. He probably would've done the same in that guy's shoes, anyways. Desperate, wounded wastelander with nowhere else to turn? It would've been stupid not to squeeze a few caps out of him.
Once he'd settled into some shithole room in the Dugout Inn, another ten caps lighter, MacCready tended to his swollen ankles. They hurt like all hell, but there was no serious damage at least. He used a stimpak and stretched out over the bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling.
These times were normally the hardest - idle moments with nothing to fill his thoughts or his hands, when all the fear and grief had him cornered and couldn't wait to remind him that he was their bitch. But he was still so fucking pumped from his daring escape that he found himself laughing, wasn't even sure at what, it just felt great for something to go right for once in his damn life.
Damn, he thought with a smile, first one in months. I shoulda killed Fat Lip while I had the chance.
River eyed the map laid out over her coffee table with what she considered to be a reasonable amount of skepticism. "You're kidding, right?"
Preston rubbed the back of his neck. "I know it's a bit of a walk. . . ."
Dogmeat woofed excitedly, licking at River's hand. She laughed and stroked his head. "Of course you're excited. Preston said the magic word, didn't he?" She sighed heavily. "Well, my partner seems up for it. I'd break his heart if I held out now."
Preston smiled sadly, like he knew her humor was a defense mechanism and it literally saddened him. Not a particularly fun experience for the ego, being at the end of that smile. "I understand if you need another week or two -"
River waved the rest of his sentence away. "No, it's been long enough already. I'm as ready as I'll ever be."
"Then maybe I should go with you."
She blinked in surprise, another refusal freezing on her tongue. Her eyes narrowed, studying him intently. "You'd do that?"
"Of course. You've given the Minutemen a fighting chance, and I really owe you one for that."
"They probably need you, though, right?" River gestured toward the door. "I mean, this place isn't gonna rebuild itself while I'm gone."
"You're right about that, but I'm offering my help either way if you need it. You're my friend, and I'd rather see you safe, even if it puts us back."
"Hmn." River nibbled on the edge of her thumbnail, an ancient habit she'd kicked after law school resurfacing again. Preston was a damn good shot, leagues better than her, but she didn't feel right tearing him from the Minutemen when things were finally starting to come together for him. Nobody else needed to put themselves at risk to find her son. She felt bad enough putting Dogmeat in danger, but at least if things got out of control, she could send him away - and he would go, even if it broke his poor, sweet doggy heart. "I'll think about it," she finally said, her hand on Dogmeat's neck, and she could tell from the look on Preston's face that he already knew her answer.
"I'm here if you need me," he promised with a shrug. "Carla's still in town. You should stock up on what supplies you can." He pulled a pouch from his pocket and held it out toward her with a smile. "A little going-away present."
The bag landed in her palm with the unmistakable rattle of bottle caps. A lot of them. "Preston, I can't take this," she protested.
"It's from all of us. You're gonna need it to get you to Diamond City." When she didn't move, he sighed. "Please. I won't rest easy unless you take it."
"All right," she finally acquiesced, pocketing the pouch. She smiled, slowly, testing out how it felt on her face again. "For what it's worth . . . I'm glad we're friends. I don't have too many of those left anymore."
Preston simply nodded. "You can count on me."
Before River left for Diamond City the next day, Mama Murphy stopped her at the edge of town. She looked stressed and worried, more wound up than River had ever seen her.
"Mama Murphy. What's wrong?"
"I had to tell you before you left," Mama replied in her slow drawl. "I saw something last night - in a dream. Haven't had the Sight in my dreams since I was a little girl, so I knew it had to be important."
"Well, I always have time for you," River assured her, slinging her rifle back over her shoulder. "What's up?"
Mama Murphy put a hand on River's arm, seeming to draw the words from somewhere deep inside of herself. By the time she started speaking, she was out of breath. "You'll find help, but . . . not where you expect to. The music will lead you to hard lines and a broken heart, just like yours. Look deep into the mirror and take what's being offered. The price'll be steep, but he's a good man. He'll let you talk him down." Then she shuddered, leaning heavily on River. "I-I wish you luck, kid. You're gonna need it out there."
"Thanks, Mama," River murmured, supporting her weight as she helped her back to her house. "I'll be careful. And I'll find my boy."
"I know you will, kid." She smiled. "I've seen it."
"Run, Dogmeat, go, go, go!"
Bullets whizzed past her and sank into the dirt perilously close to her feet. The danger was so sudden and so incomprehensibly fucking real - one wrong turn and suddenly she'd been face-to-face with a machine gun turret, aimed right at her and whirring to life, alerting every single raider in the camp to her presence with its loud beeping. She felt like she could hardly breathe past her heart in her throat, and only the sight of Dogmeat two paces ahead of her was keeping her on her feet. She ducked down a side alley and Dogmeat led her to an open window, waiting for her to climb through before he slipped in behind her.
She scanned the room and made for a set of decrepit stairs, climbing them as noiselessly as she could. The second floor consisted of a long hallway lined with offices. River pointed Dogmeat to the far one and he was already trotting his way there. She waited, crouched, in the stairway, straining to listen past her hammering pulse. It didn't take long before the sound of footsteps drew nearer; it sounded like three sets, but she couldn't be sure. She pulled two mines from her bag and set one up halfway up the stairs, then another partway down the hallway. Then she joined Dogmeat, sitting attentively behind a desk in the far hallway. She pulled her rifle from over her shoulder and rested it on top of the desk.
Then they waited.
But River's mind didn't like to wait when it was frightened, so it did that annoying chatter it liked to do at dangerous, inopportune moments.
Nice office . . . good view, spacious, cushy chair. I would've killed for an office like this back before the war. Now I probably just could. I could just take this office. You know what, it's my office now.
Voices drifted up from the first floor, gravelly and masculine.
"Only a coward hides!" one of them taunted her.
"Shut up and find that little bitch. Check upstairs."
River took deep, slow breaths, pressing her eye to the scope of her rifle. Her heart was still racing at what was most likely a really unhealthy rate, but she tried to ignore it. Dogmeat crouched down low on his haunches, waiting.
She heard the first few heavy footfalls on the stairs - one, two, three, four - and then the explosion, and from the agonized screaming, River would guess he was dead if not mortally wounded. Might've even injured the second guy, too, but he was pissed and stupid enough to keep charging up the stairs. When he reached the top of the stairs, she could see him holding one of his eyes, the other wrapped around a pistol. She ducked under the edge of the desk, heard him coming toward her and covered her ears just before the second mine went off. Dogmeat whined beside her, whether out of irritation from the noise or impatient bloodlust, River could never be sure. She apologized to him under her breath either way and chanced a peek over the desk.
The second raider hadn't gotten up and didn't seem to be breathing, but there was still one left. She could hear him carefully climbing the stairs, checking for mines now before every step.
"Gonna make you pay for that, girly."
River lowered her eye to the scope again, suppressing the urge to laugh at his bad-guy villain chatter. Then trying to ignore the brief existential crisis that followed - is that a good thing, laughing after I just killed two guys, because I'm getting used to all of this? Or a bad thing because I just killed two guys and I want to laugh? Bad, right? I'll ask Preston.
The top of a gas mask poked up over the edge of the stairs, followed quickly by gargantuan, bare shoulders - weird to spring for the mask, but not a shirt - and the rest of the raider's oafish body. He took one step down the hallway and River hissed, "Go."
River fired a shot off at the raider to distract him while Dogmeat came careening down the hallway. He had the raider's calf locked between his teeth before he could even lift his gun. The dog snarled threateningly, teeth digging into muscle and flesh, keeping the raider nice and steady so River could land the headshot that finally ended his life.
"Phew," she sighed, the same sound she used to always make after a long day working cases, and then she actually did laugh. She laughed so hard tears rolled down her face and she couldn't get up from the floor. Dogmeat came padding over to sniff her in concern.
"I'm f-fine," she managed between giggles, hugging the dog affectionately. "You and me, buddy, we might just make it through this."
Dogmeat woofed proudly and licked her face, chin to hairline.
"G'boy. Now go make sure those other two idiots are dead, too."
With a cheerful bark, he was off.
Once darkness fell, River found she could move quietly and quickly enough to be past any potential threats before they'd even realized she was there. Her mother had been the put-the-child-in-an-activity-so-I-don't-have-to-see-her type, so she'd been forced into everything from gymnastics to volleyball to horseback riding to ballet. She spent just enough time to barely understand each of them, not quite enough to ever develop any skill, but had maintained a decent level of athleticism in the process.
Yeah, maybe ten years ago, she thought wistfully as her legs burned in protest with each step. At the first sign for Diamond City, she nearly burst into tears. She jumped and yelped when there was a man standing on the other side of the gate, dressed head-to-toe in umpire gear with the clever little baseball diamond insignia of Diamond City painted on the chest piece. "I'm sorry!" she apologized quickly, throwing her hands up in surrender when he cursed and reached for his rifle. "You startled me! I'm really new at this!"
"New at what? Talkin' to people?!" he demanded gruffly, and despite the all-too-familiar Boston rudeness, it was almost comforting to hear the accent again. Really felt like home.
Real smooth, River. How much did you pay for all that law school again? "I'm sorry," she said again, easing her hands down from the air. "I got chased by a couple raiders on the way over. My dog and I barely made it through." She almost sounded convincing, like she'd been saying stuff like that her entire life, instead of barely a month and a half.
The guard didn't even seem upset anymore. He was staring at her hair with unabashed curiosity, like most people did, trying to figure out if she was just a really young looking old lady or if her hair was somehow naturally white as snow. "I moisturize really well," she told him matter-of-factly. "I'm actually seventy-eight. Diamond City?"
He scowled, looking like he wanted to tell her off for being mouthy, but he hitched a thumb over his shoulder. "That way," he grumbled.
"Thanks. Let's go, Dogmeat."
Her dog glared the guard down as they passed, making her laugh, and she realized abruptly that she loved the little guy, really loved him, from the bottom of her heart. It was something she hadn't thought her heart capable of again.
"I love you, boy," she told him proudly.
He nosed the palm of her hand, licking her fingers gratefully. They rounded the wide circumference of what River realized was Fenway Park - through the grime and rust, she could almost recognize the outer wall outside the stands - and came eventually to the main gate, where a woman in a red leather coat was shouting at the intercom.
"What do you mean you can't open the gate? Stop playing around, Danny! I'm standin' out in the open here, for crying out loud!"
"I got orders not to let you in, Miss Piper," a man's hesitant voice came filtering back out. "I'm sorry. I'm just doin' my job."
"Ooh, just 'doing your job!' Protecting Diamond City means keeping me out, is that it? 'Oh, look, it's the scary reporter!'" she wailed derisively, before finishing with a loud, "Boo!"
River almost laughed. She was laying it on a little thick, but she had to give her points for style.
"I'm sorry, but Mayor McDonough's really steamed, Piper. Sayin' that article you wrote was all lies. The whole city's in a tizzy."
River felt a little embarrassed for the guy on the other end, he sounded so sheepish. No wonder he was the guy behind the gate, and not the one hanging out outside the wall with all the raiders and mutants.
Finally Piper roared in frustration. "You open this gate, Danny Sullivan! I live here! You can't just lock me out!" She threw her hands up and turned away in frustration, noticing River watching in interest for the first time. She dropped her voice and leaned closer. "You. You want into Diamond City, right? Don't care, just play along. What was that?" she asked, louder. "You're a trader up from Quincy? You have enough supplies to keep the general store stocked for a whole month? Huh. You hear that, Danny? You gonna open the gate and let us in? Or are you going to be the one talking to crazy Myrna about losing out on all this supply?"
"Geez, all right. No need to make it personal, Piper," he grumped sullenly. "Give me a minute."
"Better head inside quick," Piper advised River as the metal door jerked to life with a loud squeal. "Before ol' Danny catches on to our bluff."
"After you."
Piper smiled. "Wouldn't have it any other way."
Nick Valentine, Mayor McDonough had said rather reluctantly, after River gave him the smile - the smile that got her free drinks all night at any bar back in college - a . . . detective of sorts, who specializes in tracking people down.
After she'd promised Piper she'd stop by later for an interview - something that sounded so normal and average compared to all the shooting and killing and running for her life - she stumbled into the marketplace.
Again, she experienced that faded, lifting feeling, not quite hope but something like it. Walking around from vendor to vendor, peering curiously at what they were offering . . . it felt almost normal. Almost right. Not quite the life she used to live, but close enough. I might be able to pull this off.
"Excuse me," she asked of a nearby guard. "Can you direct me to Nick Valentine's agency?"
He looked her up and down with no attempt at subtlety, something that was getting old pretty quickly. "Don't tell me. Missing person?"
"Pizza delivery."
"Hngh. Alley behind the market."
At least fucking with people is still fun. Things might not be so bad after all.
The pink neon sign was easy enough to spot in the dark alleyway. She steeled herself with a deep breath and knocked at the door. A long moment of silence followed, before a dark-haired young woman pulled it open a crack. When she spotted River, she opened it a bit further. "Afraid you're too late," the woman sighed, "Office is closed."
"Please," River insisted, allowing a little of the panic that constantly lurked just beneath the surface to creep into her voice. "I know you must be busy, but I won't take much of your time. It's important."
The girl's eyes softened, and the ghost of something sad passed over her face. "You're right. I'm sorry," she apologized, pulling the door all the way open. "I'm Ellie, Nick's assistant. I didn't mean to be rude, but it's just . . . the detective. He's gone missing."
No. River tried to fight back the oncoming wave of dread. Besides Mama Murphy's cryptic prediction, this was her only lead; if this didn't pan out, it was back to square one. "Do you have any idea how I could find him?"
"He disappeared working a case. Skinny Malone's gang had kidnapped a young woman, and he tracked them down to their hideout in Park Street Station. There's an old Vault down there they use as a base. I told Nick he was walking into a trap . . . but he just smiled and walked out the door like he always does."
River rubbed her hands over her face, as if she could make the whole situation disappear by hiding from it. Like that had ever worked for her before. "I'm almost afraid to ask, but . . . Skinny Malone?"
"I don't know much about him, but he's from Goodneighbor, and that means he's in the well-pressed suits and machine guns school of thuggery."
If River learned anything from law school, it was how - and more importantly when - to get away with being nosy. Ellie seemed so desperate for help, she probably could've grilled her for another hour about the Commonwealth. Might be good to get a perspective outside of Preston Garvey."You said he's from Goodneighbor?"
"It's a tough neighborhood, northeast a ways. People with power there care about two things: style and body count."
"Tough as in still friendly to outsiders? Or tough as in, don't even bother?"
Ellie smiled for the first time. "Could be either. Some call it dangerous, some call it fun. I grew up there, back before a rather recent change in management made it a lot safer to call home. But I'd watch your back all the same if you plan on heading that way." She eyed the Pip-Boy around River's wrist. "You got a map on that thing? I can show you where it is, if you'd like. Park Street Station, too."
"Thank you, Ellie. Really. Detective Valentine is really my last . . . my only hope."
"I recognize that look," Ellie murmured knowingly. "I'm sorry. Whoever you're missing must be very important to you. You help me get my boss back, and I promise you, we'll do whatever we can to help."
"I'll find him."
She hesitated, wringing her slender hands. "Look, you seem nice, and you're obviously new around here." Her eyes flickered, for the shortest moment, up to River's white hair, then darted away. "If you need a place to stay, there's an extra bed here. It's Nicks, but he never uses it." The end of her lips quirked up, like there was some joke River was missing out on.
"I really appreciate it, but . . . he wouldn't mind?"
Ellie lifted her chin defiantly. "Well, he should've thought about that before he went and got himself in hot water."
River couldn't help but smile. Damn if she didn't still love trouble in a woman. "I didn't think you could rely on the kindness of strangers anymore."
"I wouldn't get used to it around these parts, but . . . I can't refuse a pretty face. Just don't murder me or anything and we'll be fine."
River watched her grab some documents and head for the door, wondering if she'd actually just made another friend. Dogmeat stared expectantly up at her, as if to say he liked Ellie, too.
Not alone anymore, his eyes seemed to promise, and for the first time since she'd buried her husband, she was starting to really feel like it.
