I Synth pt. 8

Morning broke, one of those rosy mornings that seemed to promise a pleasant day, a welcome change from the day before. Deacon and I watched it from the small arrangement of chairs in the workshop area, both of us tired but unable, or unwilling to sleep. Me, because of my nightmare, Deacon for reasons he didn't seem to be inclined to share.

I watched him as he leaned back in the worn chair, tilting it precariously on its back legs. His brow was furrowed, his mouth turned down thoughtfully at the corners until he noticed me watching and both smoothed out into his usual easy expression.

"Something wrong?" He asked.

I shook my head, then changed my mind and nodded. "Will she…will you be…" I lifted my hands, unable to formulate my thoughts.

"You worried about me?" He asked gently, his smile turning softer.

"She was really angry." I said in a small voice.

He let the chair fall back to its normal resting position with a thump. "You're a good kid." He said, watching me closely until I shrugged and looked away. "You remind me of someone I knew once." Now it was his turn to shrug, almost uncomfortably.

"A friend?" I asked.

He gave a pained laugh. "Not really. Just someone I knew." He stood and stretched before rolling his neck. "How mad?"

"She threatened to hang you by your toes from the power lines."

"Yeah, ouch." He grimaced. "That's bad. We're going to try and avoid that."

"That would be wise." I told him seriously. "You may not want to go alone."

He grinned at me. "Volunteering to be my bodyguard?"

"MacCready says volunteering is bad for business." I replied, a touch of humor making my lips curl up and easing my anxiety.

"Curse him and his little mercenary heart."

I heard stirring in the other section of the house. Deacon must have as well because he glanced toward the shadowed doorway. A minute later Sturges emerged, giving the two of us a comprehensive look and evincing no surprise at Deacon's reappearance.

"The T-45?" He asked.

"Yeah, well." Deacon backed casually towards the door. "About that…"

"You lost it, didn't you?"

"Define 'lost'."

"Lost bein' you don't have it anymore." Sturges' expression turned stormy.

Deacon was almost out the door by now. "When you put it that way…" He disappeared around the corner.

Sturges sighed and rubbed his hand over his face before looking at me.

I couldn't think of anything to say so I took Deacon's cue and retreated strategically.

I caught up with Deacon on the street. He paused his step so I could fall in next to him. "Changed your mind about volunteering?" From this angle I could see he was looking at me from the corner of his eye. His eyes were pale blue, almost gray, I discovered.

I shrugged. "Someone will have to cut you down."

He startled me by breaking out into a deep genuine laugh and patting me on top of my head. "Very neighborly of you." He snorted.

I ducked my head with a smile. It seemed I was getting the hang of humor.

"Just stay casual." Deacon told me a moment later. I looked up to see the General's familiar figure emerging from the house near the gates. She was dressed casually this morning in a dress not unlike my own but in cream rather than pink. She stretched in the morning sun, running her fingers through her dark hair.

I glanced up at the man beside me to see his jaw clench, though his posture remained loose.

She turned to glance up the street and I saw the change in her the moment she saw who I was walking beside. Everything about her froze before she slowly lowered her arms.

I tucked my hair behind my ears, seriously considering putting more distance between Deacon and I as we got closer. The General didn't move as we approached, only turning her head slightly to follow our progress. When we were still a few feet away, Deacon reached out a hand without looking and pushed against my arm, signaling me to wait behind.

"Den, you're looking well this morning."

She stared at him, all of her considerable attention focused. I wanted to squirm and she wasn't even looking at me.

Deacon cleared his throat. "Ah. I hear you had quite a trip."

She kept staring, her face set and cold.

"All's well that ends well?"

A muscle twitched in her cheek. I fought urge to back away slowly and felt a desperate admiration for Deacon's ability to stand there under the force of her stare. The few other early risers wisely gave the three of us a wide berth.

The General took a deep, shuddering breath. Suddenly expressions flitted across her face, too quickly for me to understand. Except…

Valeria was right.

Did Deacon know?

Even I could see it. There was no way he couldn't see it, regardless of the dark glasses. So, why...?

"You're not hurt." She said, her voice sharp.

I suddenly felt as though I were intruding on a fiercely private moment, regardless that the two of them were standing in the middle of the street. I backed off a few steps, glancing away.

"Well, my elbow makes this funny noise when I bend it like this, but other than that…"

"You knew I didn't want you to go."

He raised his hands.

"Damn you."

"Been there, done that."

Her whole body tensed. "Don't."

He shrugged, but didn't look away. I'd never seen him so serious.

A hand grasped my arm, tugging me away. I struggled against the grip, looking up to see MacCready looking grim, his gaze on Deacon and the General. "Come on," He growled at me.

I grimaced up at him, and he tilted his head down to look at me, his shadowed eyes narrowed. "You don't need to be involved. And they don't need an audience."

"I told Deacon I'd make sure she didn't hang him from the power lines."

MacCready looked at me incredulously before barking out a rusty sounding laugh. He continued tugging me away. "C'mon."

I allowed him to pull me away, but looked back over my shoulder. I could see the General's hands flexing at her sides. Was she trying not to hit him? Abruptly she stepped forward, one hand reaching up to curl around Deacon's bicep. He stiffened.

"Don't." She said, her voice choked with emotion. She looked up at him. "Please don't scare me like that again."

I don't know how he responded because by then MaCcready had ushered me into the dining area and deposited me into one of the mismatched chairs. I dropped with a thump and glared at him. He replied by pointing a warning finger at me.

"Stay."

I blinked at his retreating back as he made his way to the counter and returned with two plates containing whatever was on the menu for breakfast that morning. He slid one of the plates in front of me and sat heavily in the other chair.

I kept staring at him.

He pulled his cap off and ran his fingers through his unruly thatch of hair before replacing it and pulling his own plate close. "Eat." He ordered.

"What are you doing?" I asked, scowling and pulling my plate closer. I took as vicious bite.

"Besides trying to eat?" He replied between mouthfuls of food. "You're not helping, by the way."

I made a face at him.

He refused to answer until the final bits of food had disappeared from his plate. I picked at my own food, not terribly hungry. Whoever was cook this morning it was definitely not Hamilton, for nothing tasted quite as good as usual. MacCready didn't seem to notice the difference, I thought as I watched him sop up the last of the smears of food with a piece of bread.

He pushed his plate away and tapped one hand on the table impatiently as he watched me eat. For some reason that made me want to slow down my consumption even more. Finally he tired of waiting for me to finish.

"I don't want her distracted." He said.

"The General?" I asked.

He made an impatient noise, as though irritated that I even needed to ask. "She's… well, we need to…" He growled deep in his throat. "You don't even need to know why. I just don't want her distracted right now. It's important."

I raised an eyebrow at him but he just glared back at me.

He appeared to try and find appropriate words before he stood abruptly and grabbed his plate. "She's doing me a favor and I don't want her distracted so they need some time to hash this out. Without interference." He ground out with a significant look and an air of finality before stalking away.

I watched him go, rather confused, and took a few more bites of my breakfast. A few moments passed and Steve came by with a questioning look. I gestured to the empty seat with a smile and the ghoul made himself comfortable.

"What was that all about?" He asked in his gravelly voice, gesturing over his shoulder with his fork at MacCready, who was depositing his dish in the wash bucket.

I thought about it for a long minute before shaking my head. "I have no idea."

Steve grinned his ghoulish smile at me. I smiled back, rather ruefully.

"Are they still out there?" I asked him, gesturing toward the road.

"Nah, they moved their lovers' spat inside." He chuckled once he had chewed and swallowed his current mouthful of food.

"Lovers?' I repeated weakly.

"An expression. Although…" He waggled his non-existent eyebrows at me, smirking. "That's one way to settle an argument."


Thankfully the power lines remained free of hanging bodies throughout the day and I allowed myself to believe that Deacon had convinced the General to be lenient. Sturges had a new project that kept me, and several others, occupied. I wasn't much help other than reading out the printed specifications and letting the others, a metal worker and mason named Darla and Ross respectively, know what went where.

"No electronics involved in this one." Sturges said, looking over the mechanism. "Good old clockwork."

"What is it?" I asked, as Darla soldered the last metal pinnings in place.

"We'll do a demonstration as soon as I'm sure nothing's goin' to blow up."

Dabbers, who had been dancing from foot to foot nearby, eager to have a go at whatever it was, stopped and took a step back. Sturges looked at him with a slow grin before bending to check the various pieces of the mechanism. Finally he nodded. "Everythin' looks good."

He gestured at Dabbers, who was now looking rather doubtful, and the young man stepped forward hesitantly. "You're up."

"I'm not sure…" Dabbers dithered.

"You're the one who wanted first go at it."

"That's before I knew about the 'blowing up' part."

I nodded in agreement, having already resolved to place myself a fair distance away as the device was tested.

"You think I'd let you try it if I didn't know it was safe?" Sturges asked. "You're hurtin' my feelings."

Dabbers looked as though someone had stolen his boots.

"Hey, Annette?" Sturges looked at me.

"Yes?"

"Can you fetch the General?" He asked. "She wanted to know when it was ready."

I nodded and ran off towards the General's house. After knocking politely on the door and receiving an invitation to enter I walked in and found the General at the counter, the cream dress of the morning replaced by what looked like a body suit overlaid by various pieces of armor. In her hands was a partially disassembled rifle. She was leaving again, I thought.

The General raised her eyebrows at me in question.

"Sturges wanted you to know it's ready." I told her and her expression smoothed.

"Good." She slid the pieces of her weapon back together and stowed it under the counter before moving to join me.

I led the way, but could not resist glancing around for signs of the absent Deacon before we moved outside.

The General smiled at me, but her eyes were…not cool, but something else I couldn't quite place behind her glasses. "You won't find the body." She told me.

I missed a step and almost tripped over a pile of leafy debris in the road.

"Whoa." The General caught my arm and kept me upright. "Careful there." She waited until I was steady before releasing my arm and shooting me a rueful smile. "He's asleep."

I exhaled in relief.

She shook her head at me. "He told me you were ready to go to bat for him."

"Go to bat?" I asked.

"Ah, never mind." She sighed. "So he told you he lost the T-45?"

I nodded, but felt compelled to add. "But he really couldn't help it, what with all that happened."

The General looked surprised. "Oh?" she asked carefully.


I couldn't figure out why the general couldn't seem to stop laughing. As soon as she had seemed to gain control of herself and was trying to listen attentively to whatever Sturges was telling her she would glance at me and I would see the corners of her mouth tremble before she was off again.

"Ah, I'm sorry." She apologized for the fourth time, "So you're saying there were no problems, Sturges?"

I could see the corners of her mouth tremble again, as they had ever since I relayed Deacon's tale to her. How she could find so much humor in his trials was a mystery to me. That being said, it was good to see laughter in her eyes to replace the bleak coldness that had been there so often since her return.

"None at all, ma'am." He replied.

"We haven't had any issues with the ones at the Castle, either, but it's good to be certain." She walked around the contraption that rested solidly atop its concrete base. "What range would you say?"

"About as far as Twilight to the south." Sturges told her after mulling it over. He rattled off a few more place names that I vaguely recognized from my glimpses at some of the General's maps.

She was nodding by the end. "That gives me a good idea of how spread out I can make them. Takes a lot of work and resources to get one of these things assembled. Good job getting it done so quickly." She nodded at Darla and Ross who still hovered nearby. Darla nodded back stoically while Ross grinned, his round cheeks turning pink.

I saw her head turn toward me before she hastily stopped herself. "So who's our artillery man?"

"That'd be Dabbers, here." Sturges prodded the lanky young man forward. "First shift, anyhow."

The General smiled warmly at him. "Well then, to your post, soldier."

"Y-yes, ma'am." He stammered, clambering up and stationing himself at the wheel.

The General rummaged in her pockets. "Now all you need to do is turn the wheels to aim. The one in front of you is direction, right one is elevation. Once you've got it dialed in hit the firing mechanism." She finally held out what looked like a flare. "Shouldn't need more than what is in the first payload. If we do…" She gave fierce grin, "then we're in real trouble."

We watched as the General walked down towards the bank of the river, flare in hand. She drew back and threw it far onto the other shore, an impressive distance. As she walked back the flare began to throw up a plume of white smoke.

"All right, Dabbers, dial it in."

The nervous looking young man spun the wheels, raising the barrel of the device and swinging it to point towards the plume.

"You got it?"

"I think so, ma'am." He replied.

She paused. "Everyone stand behind the artillery…just as a precaution." She waved us all back. "All right, let her go."

We waited.

Dabbers hit the firing mechanism.

The resulting boom had me covering my ears with my hands and shaking my head in an attempt to clear the ringing in my ears. I opened my eyes just in time to see the opposite bank of the river explode, rocks and debris flying everywhere. Half the residents came running to gape.

"Are we under attack?" One demanded breathlessly, gun in hand.

Another explosion cut off the General's response. She tried again. "Testing out some new artillery, folks, sorry about the scare."

Some grumbled about being warned beforehand when a tree across the way was reduced to splinters and the grumbles turned into impressed murmurs.

"Like to see raiders try and stand against that!" Someone exclaimed and I had to nod my head in agreement.

"The idea is our little show will keep that from happening," The General replied with a satisfied smile.


That evening I watched as she left the settlement, MacCready at her heels. I could faintly hear his complaints about traveling in the dark as they disappeared into the falling twilight.

As I sat on one of the benches, watching one of the traveling traders tend to their pack brahmin Deacon meandered up next to me, his traveling leathers exchanged for the yellow and grey quasi-uniform of the Minutemen. I glanced up at him, squinting in the dim light.

"Something on my face?" He asked.

I shook my head, scooting over to make room for him to sit. He did so, leaving plenty of space between us.

"You've settled in well." He told me quietly after we both had spent some minutes in quiet reflection.

I tried to keep my expression blank.

"Just saying." He leaned back, tilting his head to the sky. "It's good for a soul to have a place to belong."

You belong to the Institute. Never forget that.

"Do you?" I asked, trying to silence the memory.

He cocked a questioning eyebrow at me.

"Have a place you belong, I mean." I continued.

"What makes you think I don't belong here, in Sanctuary?' He asked, humor in his voice.

I shrugged. "I don't know."

He was silent for a long minute, staring out at the night. "Some people belong at a place, or with a person, or in a memory." He stood. "The lucky ones get two out of three. Dinner?"

I nodded, pondering his words, and his lack of a straight answer, as we moved out of the quiet night into the bustling dining area.