TITLE: What's Love Got to Do With It?

CHAPTER: 3, Who Needs a Heart? (Alternate Ending)

"RJ. Wake the fuck up."

The hiss of James' breath against his cheek jerked him awake. A pair of hands grabbed his face to force his eyes open and mouthed words he struggled to understand. Head pounding RJ nodded...But, how...? Then his eyes went wide when a .44 automatic appeared in James' hands. The whisper of a kiss on his lips and James rolled off him to the other side of the bed. RJ rolled the opposite direction and threw himself to the floor, scrambling for the weapons laying on a nearby table...at least, he was pretty sure that's where he left them.

The blue flame of a plasma rifle sent a stream of fire across the room. The beam of deadly light narrowly missed RJ, but he used the light to locate his shotgun. Spinning on his knees, RJ aimed along the path of light and watched a Gunner's face disintegrate in wet chunks and fall to the parquet floor like the sound of shit, hot and wet tumbling from a brahmin's bunghole.

"You okay?" James whispered from the far side of the room.

"Yeah. You?"

"Good." The merc breathed a sigh of relief. That goddamn plasma round... "Where in the hell did we leave our clothes?"

"Dunno. I wasn't thinking about the clothes last night." RJ scrubbed a hand over his face trying to clear the shards of a nightmare from his mind...and something else? A hangover? No, this was different. Shit, fuck, piss, damn what happened last night? He crawled toward the door, pushed himself to his feet, and noted James' position while he reloaded the shotgun. Sniper's eyes peered through the black on black shadowed room, searching for any hint of light. Finally, he closed his eyes and listened. A long exhale signaled the final breath of the man on the floor. RJ raised his weapon toward the sound of breathing followed by footsteps in the hallway. A voice outside the door.

A man's voice whispered urgently. "Hey Jake, did'ya get the faggots?"

The Gunner's answer was RJ's shotgun under his chin. He grinned at RJ over a row of rotten teeth.

"Ah, the cock jockey himself."

RJ dragged the man into the room and swung the door closed.

"Jake's a little busy right now," RJ said shoving the barrel against the Gunner's windpipe hard enough to make him cough.

"Don't matter," the Gunner claimed confidently watching the blood pool under Jake's head...what was left of it. "He was about as useless as they come. You did me a favor." The Gunner chuckled, "Looks like you two boys have been doin' each other some favors. Fucking fags."

"Let's get some practice in on this son of a bitch." RJ tightened his grip on the raider and shoved him against the wall.

James nodded and sighted down the barrel of the .44. "RJ step to the side a bit? There you go. No sense getting his brains all over you."

The Gunner threw up his hands. "Hey! Look, MacCready. This is just business. The boss has a job for you. As a thank you for getting rid of those two useless pieces of crap Winlock and Barnes."

"How long have you been following us?" James asked from the other side of the room.

"Long enough to hear all this," the Gunner gestured to the bed. "Lotta those boys get lonely and they ain't too choicey about who or what they stick it into. You could probably make a lot of caps." The raider chuckled again glancing down at RJ's naked body. "Yeah, you got some bragging rights there MacCready. You never was much fun back in the day, good to see you finally got broke in."

RJ's anger rose greasy and hot.

"Your friend, too. Impressive. Probably get extra caps just for the privilege riding that bologney pony. If you need to get back in the mood, I can give you some of the same crap we gave you last night."

"You drugged us?"

"Had to keep you quiet while we moved the merchandise. Yeah, that wine you and your boy were licking off..."

"We didn't lick...FUCK YOU!" The butt of MacCready's shotgun impacted the Gunner's jaw. The wet crack of bones echoed in the room. The Gunner sank to his knees groaning through broken teeth and blood seeping through his fingers. James ended the Gunner's life with a final blow to the back of his head.

Before they could make sense of the dead Gunners, the door opened a crack, and a small voice asked, "Hey mister. You promised us something to eat."

Both men pointed their weapons at the door. "Hands up and come in real slow," James lowered his voice while his brain identified the sound as coming from a child. But how could that be? The door swung open. James and RJ shared a glance before their attention returned to the doorway. James counted heads as the filled the room. Ten boys and two girls. One of the girls held the hand of a boy hardly old enough to be walking on his own.

James reached for a soggy towel to tie around his waist and tossed RJ his pants.

"Am I losing my mind? Imagining things?"

"Only if I am, too." James lowered the pistol. "Are their more of you?"

After patting the head of a girl with tears tracking through her grimy cheeks, the oldest boy spoke. "No, sir. Just us. There's another man upstairs though. He fell asleep, and we sneaked out. He was drunk, so I don't think he'll wake up anytime soon. Then we heard the noise. We're all hungry, sir. They ain't fed us in days. Are you a bad guy?"

"What's your name?" James asked and set his weapon down on the bed. He wasn't sure about nude adults in front of children in this time. In his time, it was a no-no and that's what placed his hands over his crotch. Where were their clothes?

"Name's Charlie. What's yours?"

After a deep breath and a deliberate change of tone, in spite of his surprise at, being caught stark naked in a room full of children, the scent of what they shared last night shimmering in the air and the bonus of avoiding death, he managed, "I'm not a bad guy, Charlie. My name is James, and this is my friend RJ. I'll send my friend upstairs to take care of the other man. Can you take the other children to the living room and then you show him where the bad man is. If you do that for me, I promise we'll have a feast. But we need to make sure everyone is safe first."

"Yes, sir. An'don' worry 'bout us seeing none of this," he said his small hand waving over RJ, James and the bed. "We seen much worse." Charlie herded the children out of the room and shut the door.

RJ yanked up his pants. "What just happened?"

James raised his hands, palm up. "Post-coital nightmare?"

"What's a post...co...? I knew this would end badly. I knew it! Got drugged with fu...shit knows what. Had a nightmare. We got a Gunners bleeding out on the floor, a pack of children listening at the door and you expect me to trot upstairs and put a bullet in some guy's head."

Head down James began buttoning RJ's Minuteman shirt. His voice went quiet and hands gentle. "Up until the nightmare part. Last night was...well, not a nightmare?"

RJ cupped James's blushing cheek with his fingers. James's eyes held a question, but search as he tried RJ couldn't find the words to express himself. Instead, he dropped his hand retreated into the familiar realm of defensive sarcasm.

"When Lucy died, I..."

This again. After last night he thought they were ready to move forward. James heaved a sigh and dropped his hands, "I get it. The things we said...One of those in-the-moment, things. I get it."

RJ noticed the sadness he hadn't seen since he found out about Shaun return in the form of a furrowed brown and rounded shoulders. Find the words, you idiot. Find them.

"No...I didn't mean. I meant..."

"Forget it. Better see to those kids. Can you get that guy upstairs or not?"

RJ watched James head down the hallway. A painful and frightening sadness rose up in him. Yesterday...Yesterday had been. What? Plenty of first times. A real shower. A real bed. Had sex with a man, in a shower, and in a bed. But drugs or not that dream outta be a warning. People he cared about died. Period. The stuff James accomplished in the Commonwealth wouldn't be tainted by his own brand of bad luck. Just a one-off, he told himself. A frisson of fear slithered down his spine, he needed to get to Duncan. He didn't want to think about what would happen to these children. What if they hadn't been here and how long had this been going on? The stairs creaked under his bare feet. He found Charlie at the end of the hallway pointing into a room. Get these kids taken care of. Get back to work. Maybe head back to DC and check on Duncan. These kids reminded him he had other responsibilities. He outta act on them. Be a father to his son.

He motioned for Charlie to head downstairs, then MacCready shoved the end of the shotgun into the Gunner's snoring mouth and pulled the trigger. Ears ringing from the close-quarters blast, RJ watched gore explode from the back of the man's head and splash across the wall. Yeah, he thought. All these emotions. Just a waste of time. Ain't no way to make caps, either. He gathered his pack, slipped on his duster and shouldered his rifle. Found James in the living room surrounded by the children.

He needed to get the hell out of here. He couldn't look James in the eye. Tears pricked his eyes. "I gotta go."

"I know. Be safe. Okay?"

"I gotta go..."

"For fuck's sake, look at me RJ."

Three Months Later

RJ crossed the bridge into Sanctuary just as the sun disappeared behind the hills. Walking for five days wore a hole in his boot and blisters on both feet. The food ran out yesterday and the last can of water disappeared when he fell down an embankment stumbling through the morning fog. The fall shredded what was left of his duster. Cold, hungry and thirsty RJ wanted to lay down and sleep for a week. Maybe two weeks. He should be happy to see Sanctuary, but a double shot of guilt and fear slowed his steps until a guttural shout from the guard tower brought him up short.

"Hey! That you Mac-Cready?"

Footsteps heavy enough to cloud the air with dust followed the super mutant. RJ took a step back.

"What you got on your back, Mac-Cready? Food?"

RJ shook his head, "No...I..."

At that moment, the bundle on his back raised its head and screamed. Strong stepped back and threw his hands in the air. He started speaking his voice fast and unsure. "Strong not hurt bundle. Strong not hurt food. Why Strong scare everyone?"

In the darkness, there's movement behind him. Hands on his shoulders. There's someone here. The voice that spoke to him in his dreams floated soft and warm through the evening air. "Hey there. I bet your name is Duncan. Did I guess right?"

Small fists scrubbed tears from a grimy face. "Yeah."

James set the boy on the ground and knelt down beside him. "I bet you've never stood this close to a super mutant."

Duncan stepped inside the haven of the man kneeling in front of him. After a quick look around to locate his father, Ducan shook his head.

"His name is Strong and you don't have to be afraid of him. He's a good guy and I bet you know the difference between good guys and bad guys."

"Yeah. What's your name? Are you Uncle James? Did I guess right? My dad told me a lot about you. He said I should never be afraid as long as you were around."

"And I've heard a lot about you. Listen, I bet you're ready for supper and a place to sleep. I bet you're worn out from helping your dad walk all the way here. Would you be brave for a couple more minutes and follow these kids to the bunkhouse. They'll make sure you get something to eat. Then your Dad and I will come to say goodnight. Will you do that for me?"

When they were alone, James waited for RJ to speak.

"I hope it's okay if we spend..."

"Of course it's okay," James snapped his hands balled into fists. RJ's downturned face and refusal to look him in the eye felt too much like the day he walked out of his life. Too many weeks wondering just what the hell happened that day, coupled with missing the merc's presence. Their tentative passion brought something to life in him that he couldn't banish from his heart. And goddamn he missed him. Missed the snark, the shy smile, the courage. James admired the way RJ faced each challenge head-on with a take no prisoners attitude.

James forced himself to relax and chose to be civil. "I'm happy to see your son is healthy. You two headed somewhere specific? You can stay here as long as you want. Get some rest, resupply..."

"...He's doing good. So, yeah, thanks. I. Uh. Couldn't stay in DC."

"Dangerous?"

"No...I'm sorry, James. I'm sorry." A weary MacCready let the pack and weapons slide from his rounded shoulders. James noticed the tears in the merc's voice. "It was empty. I paid off my debts, sold my farm, but then I had nowhere to go. For once in my life, everything was going right and I had you to thank for it. I should have been happy...proud of myself."

James stepped closer to the merc with his hands outstretched. If he could just touch him. Suddenly RJ dragged the hat from his head and looked into his face. Those blue eyes he'd missed drilled straight through to his heart that began a tentative beat toward hope.

"You gave me that gift and all I could do was trash it like I do everything else. Everything pointed back to you. Let me come home? Okay? Took time, but now that I know how you really feel about me...do you? Still feel that way...? Maybe you found someone else?"

Whatever else RJ's meant to say were buried against the soft flannel of James' shirt. Arms wrapped around trembling muscles. Fingers twisted into clothes. A tired sob released itself into the firm planes of James' chest. When he pressed his nose into the crook of the merc's neck he inhaled the scent of campfires, exhaustion and something he couldn't name.

He tipped the merc's head back. "Know something MacCready? You can be a real idiot sometimes."

"But I'm your idiot, right?"

His answer was a kiss. RJ fell gratefully into the embrace. Happy to be back in the place he could call home.