Rachel watched Deacon stand in front of the operating room window for what felt like hours to her. She could only guess at what it was like for him. Deacon had been with Grace when she first showed up at 81. Hell, it seamed that Deacon was with her whenever she would roll into the vault. Most people here assumed they were a pair; he never asked to sleep in a separate room from Grace's if that was any sort of a clue.
"Here." Rachel handed Deacon a coffee cup. "It's just some tarberry tea. If I had anything stronger…"
"I don't drink." Deacon replied, eyes forward watching Forsythe work on Grace's side. "Thanks." He stated as an afterthought as he held the cup in his hands. Deacon didn't take a sip. Just stared into the operating room from behind his sunglasses. There was a look to him that Rachel couldn't quite place. He was always so charming and chatty when talking to the residents here. Although, there was the incident with Old Rusty that had him on a security watch list. But, best not to dwell on how he managed to get the old bot into slacks and suspenders, a bowler hat, and a fake mustache and remember the look on Austin's face when the boy saw the robot. It had been right after the accident with the mole rats and there was nothing anyone could do to cheer the boy up. Mourning the loss of his leg would need time. Priscilla and Grace stuck around with him for a long while, tending to his every need, but even Grace's wild tales on life on the outside couldn't cheer him up. Then out of nowhere, Rusty comes barging into the clinic ready to work on some thing or another, looking like some cartoon out of one of Austin's old comic books. Rachel had never heard Austin laugh so hard, let alone the smile it put on Priscilla's face. And she was as hard to please as a deathclaw. Deacon stood in the shadows, watching Austin's reaction, but everyone knew it was his doing.
He was always so hard to read, even when joking around with the vault dwellers, there was always something just beneath the surface with Deacon. Like a layer of lies built to protect him from the world. But there was something simple in the way he looked when he and Grace were together. There were no lies between them; an understanding that broke down walls between them. Standing there, watching him watch the doctor work, Rachel could see Deacon building those walls up again brick by brick.
"She'll be alright." She reassured him, lightly caressing her hand against his shoulder. "Doc'll patch her up in no time and you two will be off doing… whatever the hell it is you two do."
"Mhmm." Deacon nodded, half paying attention to her. He stood there for hours, watching. Waiting. He said nothing more to Rachel, letting his tea go cold and untouched. Dogmeat sat at his side, looking plaintively up at him. A hand rested on the dog's head, gently scratching behind his ear. He heard Danse come inside the clinic, but ignored the soldier. Instead, the dog's focus was solely on Deacon. Big brown eyes staring up at the human, willing Deacon to make things better. Begging him to let Grace be alright.
Danse walked cautiously into the clinic, not wanting to disturb the uneasy calm that emanated from Deacon. He may have found the man to be annoying and a bore, but it would have been plain rude to disrupt Deacon. Plus, Deacon hadn't moved in the two hours since they brought Grace here. Danse got the feeling there was a storm raging beneath Deacon's calm exterior and to disturb him would set off a bomb inside the vault.
"Any news?" He asked quietly, walking towards Rachel's desk.
"Not yet. Doc'll do right by her, though." Rachel nodded, self-assuredly.
"And, him?" Danse gestured toward Deacon.
"Uhh…" Rachel was less sure about Deacon's state of mind. Danse nodded.
"Rachel," Forsythe called over the comms - startling all three inhabitants in the clinic, "get the door."
Rachel obliged, opening the operating room door and wheeling Grace out to the main clinic.
"Give me a hand?" Rachel asked Deacon as she rolled the gurney towards one of the recovery beds. "I need help moving her off the gurney. On three." Rachel said as Deacon grabbed the bottom corners of the sheet beneath Grace. "One, two, three, lift."
"She should be fine." Forsythe stated, drying his hands and walking out of the operating room. "I would like to keep her here for a couple days for observation, but I'd say you two can get back to saving the Commonwealth in no time."
"Thanks, Doc." Deacon shook the doctor's hand. Forsythe left the pair for another room off of the main clinic to wash up. The wave of relief that flooded Deacon was palpable. Danse simply watched the man who had stood still as a post for hours, begin fidgeting with anything he could get his hands on. Deacon grabbed a rag and some water and cleaned Grace up, brushed her hair out of her face, squished the unconscious woman's lips into a fish mouth, sat down on a chair next to the bed, stood, paced, sat back down again, tried to play a couple of tongue depressors like spoons, twiddled his thumbs, all in the span of five minutes. His nervous energy even started transferring over to Dogmeat, who now hid under Grace's hospital bed, whining for some unknown reason.
"Dear lord, Deacon. If you don't stop fidgeting, I'm going to make you leave." Rachel scolded from behind her desk. Deacon stopped moving, propping his feet up next to Grace's body and hunkering down into his seat. Crossing his arms against his chest, he settled into himself, watching Grace slowly breathe languidly beside him. She stirred faintly and Danse could have sworn he heard Deacon let out a long held breath.
"So," He said, turning his bespectacled sights on Danse. "Chuckles."
"Do not call me 'Chuckles'."
"So, Chuckles, I gotta ask myself, 'What's a man like you doing so far from home'?"
"It's not of import."
"It is to me." Deacon sighed. "Because if you and your yahoos weren't in Cambridge riling up those ghouls, we wouldn't be sitting here, now would we?"
"I don't think I appreciate your tone."
"Don't rightly care what you think, Chuckles. Not many frag mines in Cambridge until recently. Least, not 'till your boys showed up and started waking up hordes."
"If you are implying -"
"See, Grace helped clear out a raider gang that was living on the roofs couple of months ago, and, the way she told it, the horde was originally localized in the police station. Now, any idiot with a gun can clean out a building once or twice, but it takes a long game to stave off a horde. A long game that includes strategically placed frag mines on an outer perimeter. Am I right?"
"You're not wrong." Danse grumbled.
"That's what I thought." Deacon stared are Danse from behind his sun glasses, a crooked grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.
"Um…" Rachel interrupted the sudden tension in the room. She stood awkwardly for a moment, shifting attention between the two men. Standing behind Danse, she could see his shoulders visibly tense as the two of them had a staring contest. Whoever blinked first was the one in the wrong, the one that need apologize. Deacon was at a decided advantage behind those sunglasses.
"I'm going to the cafeteria… Do you want me to bring you anything?"
"Maybe our friend here should join you." Deacon suggested, pulling a cigarette out of his front pocket.
"Don't you dare light that up in here." Rachel scolded Deacon just as he flipped his lighter open. "It'll put you in an early grave."
"If you haven't noticed, not many people make it to an old age out there. Point and case." Deacon shrugged at Grace.
"Well, that may be true out there. But in here, it's strictly a smoke free zone." Rachel pointed a finger at Deacon to reinforce her point. Deacon begrudgingly stuffed the cigarette and lighter back in his shirt pocket. All three of the people in the room knew that as soon as Rachel left he would have the damned thing between his lips and aflame.
"Danse, why don't you come with me." Rachel offered, trying to lead the large soldier out of the room. "I'll get you some tea."
"Run along, Chuckles." Deacon smirked from behind his glasses. Danse did not like that man, but there was nothing Danse could do in that moment. Grace was stable, Deacon had his eye on her; all he had to do was wait for that caravan to show up so he could head back to his team. Danse hated having to follow behind Rachel in that moment, but it would be best for him to leave the room. He knew that. Deep down, he knew that. But it didn't make wanting to punch that smug look of Deacon's face any less palatable.
Danse tried to ignore some of the stares from the vault residents as he passed through trailing behind Rachel. But there were some that were just hard to walk past. They were curious about this newcomer; a thing to be ogled at while just passing through their world. He kept his head up. Let them wonder and stare at this stranger.
"This is Maria." Rachel offered, ushering Danse into the designated cafeteria. The walls had been painted a shocking shade of pink where a pleasant older woman sat on a stool behind the counter.
"Ah, this must be our guest that came in with Grace and Deacon. Maria Summerset." The older woman held out her hand to Danse. He shook it with a curt nod.
"Danse."
"What can I get you?" Rachel asked, stepping up to the counter.
"I've got some pie left over. Mark's working on a batch of corn fritters from Priscilla's garden, and we've got some radstag venison stakes if you're looking for something a little hardier."
"Any new teas?" Rachel asked.
"Carla brought in some dried thistle that she said makes a good tea. But its mostly just good ol' tarberry."
"I'll try some of that thistle tea. Danse?"
"Tarberry tea, if you don't mind, please."
"This one's got manners." Maria joked, putting a kettle on a stove. It was overwhelming just how clean everything was inside of the vault. It made Danse ever wonder if he would be able to eat anything cooked outside the vault ever again. The Brotherhood was excellent at sterilizing everything in their compounds, but none of their efforts could match the cleanliness in this place. "Not many Outsiders come in here with their please and thank yous. Have a seat, Danse. I'll bring you your tea when it's ready."
"Thank you, Maria."
"Hah. I could get used to having this one around." Maria laughed again.
Danse sat a bench table, silently watching the people living their lives around him. They just moved around the vault, going about their business as if he wasn't there. Maria brought him his tea and left him be, and for awhile, sitting there sipping on the tea and listening to the others trudging through their days, Danse wondered if this was what life was like before the war. He wondered if, 200 years ago, was it normal for someone to sit at a cafe and just watch the people walking by, just enjoying the peace of it. Had this been what life was like for Grace? Danse's mind wandered, snaking its way back to the freckled blonde. It was her eyes that had first caught Danse off guard. Those deep, piercing blue eyes of hers that seemed to look right into him when she first woke up in the police station. From a distance, they were as blue as an ocean, but up close Danse could see small flecks of green that dotted her irises. Her eyes were stunning. And her smile - not the snarky smile when she was mouthing off to Rhys, her real smile, the one she had when she held her husband's dog tags in her hands - that made those eyes of her's light up in ways he had never noticed in another woman before.
The soldier felt mildly useless as he sat there, sipping on tea, watching other people work. He didn't have an exact E.T.A. on that caravan that Alexis mentioned, and waiting here for a couple days was going to drive Danse crazy. Sitting on his hands while there was work to be done had never been particularly easy for Danse. And he had a feeling finding a place in the vault while he waited was going to prove difficult. He needed something to do.
"Boy, you're a big brute of a man, ainchya?" a portly man that was balding slightly sat down in front of him.
"Excuse me?" Danse asked, looking up from his tea.
"Name's Cal. I'm in charge on maintaining this old bucket." The bald man extended his hand across the table. "You must be Danse."
Danse said nothing as he shook Cal's hand.
"Word travels fast 'round here." Cal explained, letting go of Danse's hand and waving his hand behind him in the general direction of the depot. "Alexis says you're chomping at the bit to get on the next caravan headed out of here."
"I have people that are waiting for me to return, yes."
"Mhm. That's what 'Lexis said. But next caravan isn't scheduled for the next 2 days at least."
Danse could sense there was something that the older man was skirting around, but he let Cal work to it in his own time.
"I've got a proposition for you. See, us vault dwellers, we're not built like you Outsiders. And see, there's a section of the vault what needs rebuilding. Grace cleared out all the mole rats over there and we're fixing to take that part of the vault back. And, as I say, none of us here are built for some of that hard labor. There's caps to be made for someone to be willing to put in a little elbow grease in there. And way I see it, you could use something to do for the next couple'a days."
Danse thought about refusing Cal's offer, but the man was right. He looked around, watching all of the people working through their lives and felt like an outsider. He agreed, nodding his head slightly. Two days of being put to work sounded a hell of a lot better than sitting on his thumbs.
"Alright." Danse agreed.
Grace woke up a couple hours after Forsythe had finished binding up her side. Deacon was snoring quietly sitting in his chair next to her, his sunglasses laying on the table next to them as he slept. His legs were propped up on the bed. Grace's hand was draped over his ankle, holding onto him like a lifeline. Dogmeat was laying at her feet whimpering and chasing something in a puppy dream.
"Deac?" Grace sighed, squeezing his ankle gently.
"Sleeping." Deacon replied, unmoving.
"Awake." Grace giggled.
"Sleep a little longer then."
"I'm tired of sleeping. Been doing too much of that lately."
"Ghouls and frag mines will do that to a body." Deacon sighed, removing his feet from the bed and sitting upright. It was still an odd sight, seeing him without his sunglasses. But his eyes were a beautiful shade of green. Grace made a point of telling him whenever she saw them. "How you feeling?"
"Like I got blown up in a mine field then chomped on by a monster."
"I meant about the med-x those yahoos were dosing you with?"
"That…" Grace sighed, closing her eyelids. She preferred the darkness to looking into Deacon's eyes. "Rachel may still have some addictol from before with Bobby."
"You think it could get that bad again?"
"Rather not risk it." Grace opened her eyes to stare at the ceiling. "Wasted a lot of time getting high instead of looking for Shaun. Too much time. I'm on the right track now, I can't afford to mess up like that again. We've got the Courser chip, all we need to do is get Sturges or Tinker or someone to decode that damn thing and -"
"Speaking of," Deacon interrupted, "you do know what your Brotherhood friend is here for, right?"
"I do." Grace replied, her eyes fixated on the ceiling. Maybe she should tell him she thought about letting the Brotherhood have some of her intel. Maybe she should tell him she felt they could trust Danse and his squad.
"No, you don't, Boss." Deacon said sternly as if he had read her mind.
"They could have resources we could only imagine, Deac. They could help us in ways we've only dreamed about."
"I've seen what they do to synths, Grace. Right after I joined up with Des, I was smuggling some of our… packages out of the 'Wealth and into D.C.. They had a whole executioners row of synths and presumed synths lined up to be shot. Arms bound, on their knees with sacks over their heads like some dystopian dissidents. The assholes didn't even care who they were killing. They just shoved a laser rifle at the back of the poor bastards' necks and fired. There is a blind hatred there and if it ain't human, it doesn't deserve life to them. I've had enough of that kind of willful ignorance to last me a lifetime. And with half of the Commonwealth afraid of the Institute and synths already… The Brotherhood could do more damage than good, Gracie-poo. And I sure as shit don't want them here in the Commonwealth."
