Just… a few… more… yards.

She was stomping slowly across the bridge toward Sanctuary. She had to stop halfway, pausing by the line of turrets that beeped dutifully as they patrolled the area behind her for hostiles. Though she'd kept up with consistent doses of RadAway since leaving the Glowing Sea, its effects seemed to be diminishing and the radiation poisoning she had endured was beginning to catch up with her.

She felt like she couldn't breathe. She fumbled with her helmet, her fine motor skills lacking due to the thick metal of the power armor suit. She finally found the release switches so she could pull the damn thing off and her head spun as she sucked in the fresh air too quickly.

"It's her!" she heard someone call. The light was dim, the sun mere minutes from setting, so all she could see were two shadowy figures on the guard tower across the bridge. One stepped down and began to approach her. She continued toward them, tossing her helmet on the ground dismissively as she stepped off the bridge, dusty clouds springing up from her feet as the weight of the armor hit the dry dirt. She wanted to lean forward, to brace herself on her knees, but it was not something the suit would allow her to do. She looked up as the settler approached her… then realized it wasn't a settler at all.

"You stayed…" she said airily, catching herself as she began to lean backward and lose her balance.

"Yeah…" MacCready said, his brow lined with worry. "Why don't you get out of that suit…"

She felt… dizzy… She managed to initiate the eject sequence, and as the armor released itself she felt her body give way. She knew she was falling backwards out of the suit, but she never felt herself hit the ground.


"Hey, boss…"

She heard his voice, but it seemed far away. She opened her eyes slowly and found herself lying in her bed in her old house. MacCready sat on a chair next to the bed… meds, food and water littering the ground around him. She wiped some sweat from her forehead and thought about sitting up. She could only think it however, she imagined if her body was its own person, it would have laughed out loud at her request.

"You've been out a couple days…" he explained.

"A couple days?" she asked with disbelief, her voice coming out cracked and dry from disuse. She knew she had pushed herself too far, but that seemed excessive.

"You did wake up a few times, just long enough to throw up and then fight us as we tried to put some food in you," he explained.

She shook her head, "I don't remember that at all."

"Yeah you were pretty out of it. You seem much better now though… when you dropped out of that power armor, you looked like total garbage," he said.

"Thanks, that's sweet of you to say," she grumbled, attempting to turn onto her side but giving up quickly as her stomach lurched and insides burned.

"That's MacCready, keeping it real," he said.

"Ugh, you cannot start talking about yourself in the third person."

"Oh no, it's not me as a person… it's the MacCready brand," he replied, sitting back in his chair and popping the collar of his duster before crossing his arms casually.

"Careful, you're making me want to throw up again," she said dryly.

He forewent his casual slouch in the chair as he slid forward onto his knees at the side of the bed. He put his chin on the edge of the bed like a forlorn puppy and looked her in the eye. His expression was analytical… as one might appear when inspecting a dead body to see if it held any signs of life. After a few long moments, he said, "I'm very glad you're alive."

"Back at you," she replied. He lifted his head but stayed knelt by the bed.

"Right, because things got really dicey up here in suburbia, I'm lucky to have pulled through," he joked, then added more seriously, "I would have much rather marched through a massive sea of radiation, slaying ferals and radscorpians."

"And a deathclaw," she sighed, cringing at the memory of its vicious claws ripping her power armor's leg casing clean off the frame as she began an elegant tumble down the rocky hill she'd retreated towards. That had hurt.

MacCready looked at her as if she was joking, then his face fell blank and he set his forehead lightly on the edge of the bed when he realized she was being serious.

"It's better you didn't," she explained, "Otherwise we'd probably both be in this miserable state."

When he looked back up, his expression had hardened, his tone heavy, "Why did Nick let you walk back alone in that condition? You could have been killed."

"He didn't know how bad it was, I… muted the notifications on my Pip-Boy…"

"Fu- … da- … " he struggled for a while then sighed, apparently unable to come up with an acceptable response that didn't start with an expletive. He looked down at the floor again as he leaned his elbows on the bed, gripping the top of his hat firmly. After a moment he pulled it off, running rigid hands through his hair and breathing deeply, though it seemed an effort. He was silent for a long time.

"He's going to be pi- … angry… with you when he finds out," MacCready said.

"If he finds out," she clarified, "And I know you aren't going to tell him, because you value your life."

"That I do…" he said, "Although one might question that as I continue to let you run the show."

"Oh whatever, you live for our shenanigans."

"I think you mean I live despite our shenanigans."

"How'd you even survive while I was gone, anyway?" she asked, "Did you just sit around and twiddle your thumbs?"

"Hey now, we got a lot done for your information. We finished the Rosa's storage shed, the new water pump is at about sixty percent, Sturges started building that new shelter down by the river like you wanted, and - most importantly - I finally got Dogmeat to sleep in bed with me."

She laughed but it was cut short by the pain it caused in her abdomen. Her insides felt… burnt. No, smoldering. Like all her organs and muscles were raw, exposed flesh, rubbing against one another painfully with any movement she attempted. She held her stomach gingerly as MacCready looked on with sympathy.

"I hope it was worth it… I hope you got what you needed," he said.

"I did," she said assuredly, "I found out how to get into the Institute."

"I'm sorry… into the Institute?" he said, dismayed. She remembered then that she hadn't been entirely up front with MacCready about what kind of information she was going to get from Virgil, only that Shaun's trail led to him.

"Will it make you feel better to know that… I need your help?" she asked. He said nothing for a long time, rubbing his hands together in a way that was either nervous or seething or some of both.

"Like, I really, really need your help…"

"What happened to not wanting me to get involved? Powerful enemies and all that?" he asked.

"Well… if my current condition proves anything… it's that we may be better at protecting each other when we stick together."

His look was completely unreadable as he continued to stare at her. She couldn't tell if he was about to gloat, guilt-trip her, stomp away in frustration or kiss her.

"What needs done?" he asked finally.

"I have to kill a courser," she said and braced herself as she awaited his reaction. To her surprise, he smiled widely.

"Ok, crazy lady, why don't you get some rest, you clearly need it," he said dismissively.

"Mac, I'm serious."

"Oh I know you are," he said, still smiling broadly as he stood up and pulled the blankets higher as if to tuck her in. He turned and walked toward the hallway, stopping in the doorway as she called after him.

"Mac, I know it's dangerous, but… you're the best shot I know," she said, "You might be my only chance."

"There's no question, Cryo," he said seriously, his smile fading as he turned back to look at her, "From now on, I follow wherever you lead, whether you want me there or not. You'll not walk away from me again."