MacCready finally reached the last of the containers to sort through, a large footlocker that had sat behind the bar. He opened it and snorted back a laugh. "Oh General. Really?" He picked up the three neatly folded sequined gowns sitting next to the missile launcher. Although the idea of her wearing one of these gowns and holding that missile launcher was ridiculous, he had to admit the image was a turn on for him. He carried the dresses to the loft bedroom as delicately as he could, trying to make sure that his hands, dirty with gun oil, didn't make a mark.

The drawers next to the bed, which he knew had to have been repaired by Molly herself given her penchant for furniture restoration, overflowed with clothes. Laundered dresses and men's shirts, hats, caps, and pairs of glasses, all hoarded by Molly and placed neatly in each drawer. A small pouch sat in the corner of one drawer. He placed the dresses in the drawer and ignored the pouch. He was about to shut it but curiosity got the better of him and he lifted the pouch and poured the contents into his hand, It was Molly and Nate's wedding rings. He balanced them; aware that the weight he felt was insignificant when compared with their symbolism. He wondered if her not wearing it meant anything, given that he had never seen her remove it at any other time. He and Lucy never had such things, they hadn't needed them, it felt like a relic from the past, one in which most people could no longer afford. He sighed, put them back in the pouch, and placed it back in the drawer.

He sat on the bed, pulled out the toy soldier from his pocket, and placed it on top of the drawers. "We had our own way of showing our love didn't we, Luce?"

Although never that great at organizing, he'd spent the last week and a half sorting through most of Molly's junk at Homeplate. He was surprised to find after days of lifting heavy cabinets and tables, welding and screwing bits and pieces together and shifting benches and shelving around he'd created some semblance of order from the sheer quantity of stuff that was there.

He'd also made contact with a specialist arms dealer in town that had weapons racks for sale as well as a number of high quality weapons mods. He'd managed to purchase not only the racks but also several decent sniper mods, one for his gun and one for Molly's for when she returned. All at a good price, of course.

Having been idle for so long he managed a reasonable work ethic - anywhere from eight ten hours most days and the evenings, he spent his free time drinking, in as much moderation as he could muster so as not to lose too much momentum throughout the work day. He'd also tried to reign in the smoking, partly because he knew he was running out and partly, when he smoked, he spent far too much time thinking. Molly had left a reasonable stack of magazines and comics to interest him otherwise and he took to walking around the city in the early evening before heading to the Dugout Inn for a drink.

In between all of the organising, thoughts on Molly and Duncan came back to him, along with that damn white noise. He still had trouble articulating what he was going to say to her on her return. He had jumbled thoughts, all mixed up in emotions that he couldn't contain. Why he remained, how he felt. Then there was Duncan. He'd received word that the cure was taking effect, that he wasn't one hundred percent better yet, but it was the most improved he'd been for some time.

Before he stepped out for the evening, he sat down at the bar, with an envelope, paper and pencil. He took out an ale and cracked the cap, taking a sip before placing pencil to paper.

Dear Duncan, It's your pa here. Abdul tells me you're getting better, that he's been telling you my bad jokes and you even laughed, that in itself is a miracle. I've got a few more jokes to share on my return. I'm just writing to let you know that I love you, and that if your mama was here, she'd tell you the same. Also, I'm gonna be here in the Commonwealth a little longer, for reasons I can't explain to you just yet, just know that your pa is trying to finish something he started, even if it works out I promise to come visit real soon, we've got a lot of catching up to do.

I love you.

Pa.
PS just a few swears so that's more than a few caps I owe you, but cross my heart no more - you be good for Stephi and Abdul okay?
PPS what's brown and sticky?

He sniffed, and folded the note placing it carefully in the envelope before sealing it and writing 'Duncan MacCready' on the front. He'd take it to the courier office tomorrow.

He drained the ale and headed out to the Dugout Inn. He was there barely an hour when someone pulled a stool up next to him.

"Thought I'd find you here, MacCready."

He turned to see the familiar coat and hat of Diamond City's great synth Detective.

"Valentine, you're back." He looked around but Molly wasn't with him. "The General?"

"She's doing something you probably need to think about." He sniffed the air derisively.

He stubbed his cigarette out. "Thanks for the vote of no confidence. Good to see you, too." He glanced at the entrance then back to Nick.

"Waiting for someone?" he laughed and MacCready was sure he raised whatever sufficed for synth eyebrows. "You did a good job on the workshop. The General was pretty pleased."

"Good, that's all I wanted. Let me get you what- a can of oil or something?" He gave a short bark of a laugh.

"You're still a jackass. But I guess she must see something in you."

MacCready was about to question what he meant when Vadim came to their end of the bar.

"Ahh Mister Valentine, can I get- ah no, you don't- I forget these things"

"I was just leaving. But, thanks, Vadim. See you tomorrow, MacCready." He tipped his hat and smiled.

MacCready watched Nick leave then turned quickly to Vadim. "Hey Vadim, you got somewhere I can wash my face? I got some extra caps."

MacCready sat with his head in hands. There had been too many tears. He had nothing left to give.

"Here, Mac," Abdul said quietly.

He lifted his head and took the drink with shaking hands. "Thanks."

"What are you going to do?" Abdul asked.

"I heard a rumor, there might be cure, but I'll have to travel to the Commonwealth. But- but I can't take him with me, he's too sick. And I can't leave in case-" He'd been moonlighting as a mercenary, trying to gather caps together, that's when he first received a lead. He'd come and go from the homestead and as long as he did his duties around the settlement, never left Duncan for too long with the others, they never questioned him. Especially when he bought spare caps for the settlement kitty. Although there was occasionally, the odd leading query about what he was doing, he always managed to deflect it. They gave up trying.

"Mac, I know you don't want to, but leave him here. You know he'll be in good hands. If he gets worse, we'll send for you."

He rubbed a hand over his face. "If it's the only way. I have to go." First Lucy, now Duncan. All he could see in front of him was despair. The possibility of losing his son so soon after Lucy and the thought of leaving-. He was supposed to protect them, and he couldn't even do that right. His limbs felt heavy, as though he carried too much weight, as though he'd never feel them be light again. He was more tired than he'd ever been in his twenty-one years in this Wasteland. "It's not fair, you know?"

"No, Mac it's not." Abdul laid a hand on his shoulder. "We'll be here, when you make a decision. We'll all be here." He stood and left MacCready alone.

He stood and entered Duncan's room. It was small and crowded with furniture and toys. In one corner stood a bookshelf and on it several comics that MacCready had been reading to him. Duncan's breathing labored and Stephanie was wiping his brow. "Let me," he whispered.

She nodded, passed the cloth to him and squeezed his arm as she left the room.

"Hey, Duncan." He wiped his son's face with a delicate hand. "I might need to go away for a while, but I promise it won't be for too long, okay? I'm gonna look for something that might make you better." His lip quivered. "I'll try and collect some more jokes and comics for you on the road, hey?" Duncan remained sleeping and he could see the boy's eyes move under the lids.

Please don't die.

MacCready sniffed and Duncan rolled over with a small moan to face him still with his eyes closed. The boils around his neck looked painful and his face dripped with sweat from fever. He patted him dry but more beaded sweat poured from his scalp.

He dropped the cloth on the ground, put one hand over his face and grabbed Duncan's hand with the other. It was clammy and limp.

Please don't die.

He thought he had no more tears left, that there was only so much sadness in you to make you cry. But how many times had he shed tears since Lucy died? A dozen? Two dozen? Every day? He rubbed his eyes and once again, his hand came away wet.

"I'll find it. And I'll do what I have to do, Duncan. And if I can't- I'll die trying. That's a promise." He kissed Duncan's hand, then his head and pulled the bedclothes up around his shoulders.

When he entered Homeplate he didn't need to call her name to know she was there. He could smell her. He closed his eyes and smiled as soap and peppermint flooded his senses, he missed that smell, he loved that smell. He took a whiff of his hands and his shirt; Vadim had allowed him the use of a bathroom and even gave him some hot water to wash. It hadn't been the most thorough of cleans but it made the reek Valentine spoke of disappear, and he'd at least be presentable to the General.

He stepped around past the workshop and could hear her quiet murmur near the bar.

"Good boy, MacCready. Now let's see what you got." She placed several bottles on top of the bar but never looked up.

He walked behind her, and smirked as he watched her ass wriggle from under. She was wearing a pale blue dressing gown and he could see from the smoothness of the material over her cheeks that she wore nothing underneath. He'd just stay here just a little while, this was a view he had most definitely missed.

"Oh MacCready, what is this rubbish? And what were you thinking?"

"I don't know what I was thinking then, but I know what I'm thinking now." He laughed and heard a small thud as she remained kneeling but turned her head to him.

She had a smile on her face and her cheeks were pink.

"Welcome home, General." His tone was playful and light. He rubbed his hand on his chin.

She didn't greet him, instead simply handed him a bottle. "What's this?"

He looked at the label then pulled the lid and sniffed. "Smells like bourbon to me, though I can't read the label."

"Whatever it is I think I might give it a miss if you don't mind."

"Your gut, your rules, General." He gave a good-natured chuckle and remained standing behind her. He wasn't sure but it damn well looked like she was wiggling her ass at him on purpose. Not that he minded.

"Finally!" She stood and placed a bottle on the bar. "Something that looks drinkable."

It was the one bottle he'd been saving - either to share with her or drink until he could no longer stand. Which way it went would depend on the manner in which she accepted what he had to say to her. "Oh ahhh. Yeah the Old Appalachia. The old faithful. Quality blend there, General." He felt his posture stiffen and he gave her a tight-lipped smile.

Molly frowned. "Wait." She pointed to the bottle. "You weren't saving this were you, MacCready? For something special? I can-"

This was it, it had to play out now or never. He had to tell her, no matter how jumbled his thoughts had been, and there was no backing down. "Um-" His hand went to his brow and he rubbed his top lip. "General, before you- before you have a drink, or get drunk, or whatever it is that you plan to do, I think we need to talk." He moved his hand to his jacket pocket and fiddled with the toy soldier he always kept with him.

"What is it, MacCready?" Molly played at the collar of her gown and her hand traced from her neckline to the edge of her face.

He could see her shoulders tense so he kept the tone of his voice as even as he could. He'd hoped not to make her nervous, but then his own nerves were likely showing. "Um—I think, Molly- I think we really need to clear the air here." His foot tapped on the ground and his hand scratched the back of his neck. "I came up early from the boathouse because I thought I might catch you before you left here with Valentine. I'm glad I didn't." He swallowed hard. "Because it gave me some time to think about what I was going to say to you. And there are several things that need saying. Will you hear me out?"

"Of course, yes." Her hands folded over each other and he watched her eyes follow his hand to his pocket.

"I know this might seem like an unusual gift, and it probably doesn't make sense, but I'd like you to have this." He pulled out the wooden toy soldier that Lucy had given him years ago. The surface worn and the paint faded from a long time held in the warmth of his jacket and for all the time spent carried in his knapsack.

She looked at the toy sitting in his open palm and bit her lip. "A toy soldier?"

"It's for everything you've done for me. Dealing with Winlock and Barnes, for helping to find Duncan's cure, for—for many things, that I never should have taken from you, yet you gave to me freely. This soldier means a lot to me." He gave her a weak smile as her hand brushed against his when he passed it to her.

Molly took the toy with a quiet smile and turned it over in her hand. "If it means something to you, then it's a thoughtful gift." Her eyes sparkled and rose to his expectantly. "Did you make this? Back in Little Lamplight?"

He shook his head. "No. Lucy made it. She gave it to me right after we met up again in Megaton. I—um, stupidly told her I was a soldier; she didn't seem to know much about the Gunners. She didn't know that I lied about that part of my life. I didn't have the heart to tell her otherwise, that I was just another Wasteland mercenary looking for cheap way to make caps and never questioning how he got them."

"She never knew?" Molly placed a hand on her cheek.

"No. I don't think so. But it doesn't matter now, now—she's gone. Anyway, I wanted you to have it and that I appreciate everything you've done for me. So there you go." That had gone smoother than he imagined.

There was a silence between them but he felt a measure of calm wash over him. However, he could see Molly's eyes dart around the room and her hand returned to fidget at the collar of her gown.

"You said you had several things you- you wanted to say." She took a deep breath; he could see the rise and fall of her chest as if her heart was fluttering under blue cotton.

MacCready caught the hitch in her voice "Yes. I-" He glanced down at his feet and back to her face. "Things haven't been- right between us since Sunshine Tidings. I just wanted to say again that I was wrong, for questioning your motives. I'm sorry for breaking your vase and your table and for making you scared of me. That was a mistake, a huge one. I was selfish and I can't ever be sorry enough."

Molly's voice trembled. "I forgive – forgave you for everything that happened there."

He could see the same look in her eyes that she had when he threw the vase. "Molly, you're not still scared of me are you?"

She shook her head. "No, no I'm not scared, not of you. I'm not sure why you don't believe me when I say I've forgiven you though."

MacCready grimaced and scratched his jaw. "Well, lately- you've been distant. I know you have a lot going on, but it's like- like you're still hurt and angry at me. At the time when we began sleeping together, it felt right, you know? That it was a something we both wanted. I know you said you forgive me, but I'm getting mixed messages." He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his brow. "I'm sorry, I honestly can't read people. I've never needed to, because to me they were all as—they were pretty much not to be trusted. But you, you're different. You trusted me first- from the moment we walked out of the Third Rail. At least I thought-"

"I've been confused, that's all and you weren't exactly wrong about what you said. I meant what I said at Sunshine Tidings when I ran out that night, it wasn't you, it was me and my messed up head. What you said to me the day after, if anything I think it gave me a reality check, that maybe, as always, I was doing it all wrong." She swallowed hard and he could see the tears begin to mount. He hadn't wanted to drag a painful memory back for her. However, she still couldn't see her worth, and he felt that was partly his fault.

"No, no, that isn't the case, General. You were doing what you needed to do and I—yeah." He began to pace in front of her. The affection he had for her, the regard and concern, he was beginning to doubt his ability to translate these feelings coherently. "Look I'm not very good at this kind of thing. Hand me a gun with some bullets, give me a target, I'm in heaven. Give me words and feelings I'm the – what is it – village fool? Who manages to fu—mess up a lot."

Molly's voice cracked. "No, you're far from that, MacCready. May-maybe I did things because they needed to be done, but you did the same. And for whatever reason you're still here, even though you don't need to be."

He stopped and opened his palms to her and shook his head. "That's where you're wrong, I - need to be here, General. And I guess this is getting to the pointy end, I owe you an explanation as to why I'm still here, why I let someone else take that cure back to Duncan. Right?"

She shook her head. "No, no, you don't owe me anything, all debts are cleared."

"Yes. Yes I do." His jaw clenched as he stared into her eyes. "You want to know, don't you?"

This time she nodded her head yes.

He took her arm and caressed the bare skin of her forearm, his fingers danced on the sleeve edge. Her skin was warm smooth another reminder of how much he'd missed touching her. "I have rarely finished what I started. So I'm here to do that. Back in Sunshine Tidings, I promised to help you find Shaun, and I don't want payment for that. I know that Duncan is in good hands, with good people, and this sounds like a contradiction given everything you know about me, but they are people I trust." He heaved a sigh. "I have something else that is just as important to do. Here."

Molly looked away and dropped her arms to her side. "I have other companions and helpers, MacCready. God knows I need as much help as I can get. I'm not saying your help isn't wanted, it's that, I can see you're needed elsewhere, for one of the most important people in your life. Your son. What is it that's so important here?" Her lips began to quiver.

He shook his head and laughed. "You still don't see it, do you General?" He stared at her. He wanted her to see her worth. He started to pace again. "I know there are some places I can't follow, you need Nick and Preston and Strong and you need Piper to talk her way into places." He rubbed his temples. "Sh—grr - even the Railroad and Deacon with all his crazy disguises." He stopped in front her again, his eyes pleading. "But, I. Me. The guy who first thought you could have as easily shot me in the back as kiss me, I want to know that you're safe. I need to know that you and your—that your beautiful ass isn't getting kicked by ghouls or supermutants, and I don't want that information after everyone else already knows about it."

He listened as Molly sucked in a breath and watched helplessly as she began to cry, she put a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob.

"General- Molly, dammit." He rubbed his fist on his forehead. He'd made her cry again and this was not how he had intended this conversation to go. He had wanted to tell her that he loved her that her safety meant ten times his own. This was his last chance to get this right. "Molly, you are one of the most important people in my life, and even though I know I can't protect you from what this sh- what this world has in store I'm not needed elsewhere, I'm needed here. Right here." He gestured to the ground with a pointed index finger.

She continued to cry but remained standing in front of him.

He stepped forward, lifted his cap and brushed his hand through his hair, resigned to the fact that this had all gone to shit but still wanting to finish. "I know I said that we should keep it professional, that maybe maintaining some sort of distance would make things better, for you, for me. But it hasn't. It's made it worse, for me anyway. I know things can't go back to the way they were, but I don't want it that way, because I miss, I miss being close to you. I love you."

Molly emitted an audible gasp.

He shook his head and broke eye contact, "Look I know you may not feel the sa- "

Before he managed to finish she laid a hand on his cheek, pushed his face to look at her and brushed it with a delicate thumb. She spoke in a quiet tone, barely above a whisper as her tears continued to fall. "I love you."

There was a sudden thud in his chest and he gave a gentle astonished laugh. "Wha- I thought-" He stared at her dumbfounded then shook his head. "I told you I was no good at reading people." He took her hand in his and kissed it. His other hand snuck around her waist and bought her in tight against him. The familiar warmth and the curve of her waist under his hand sent his heart rate up and made his head spin. "I had hoped, you would feel the same. But, you kno-"

"Silly boy, what were you thinking?" Her eyes were still cloudy with tears.

"Well I don't know really. A lot of things. I was thinking about your ass before." He leaned in and kissed her, eager to have his lips on hers, eager to feel the warmth of her tongue. Her hand went through his hair; the scrape of her fingers in his scalp reminding him how there was nothing about her he didn't miss.

Their foreheads pressed against one another. Her hand stroked his cheek, her palm was smooth and he could feel the light callous at the base of her finger where her wedding ring once sat.

"I really did miss you, Molly. You and your beautiful ass."

Molly sniffed and laughed. "We've been doing the same dance it seems, just out of step with one another. Time to- time to get in line." She kissed his cheek. He returned her kiss with one of his own.

When they broke apart, he stroked her throat with soft kisses and caresses and kissed stray tears from her face. "What now, General? Your trip, did you get what you needed?"

She nodded and wiped her face with her hand. "I did. Come over here and let me tell you."

She held his hand, guided him to the couch and sat on his lap with her arms around him. His hand instinctively moved to her behind stroking the soft cotton of the gown.

"We have schematics for a device. It can supposedly transport people to the Institute."

MacCready took a breath. "Wow, seems I missed a lot. I want to come with you, we can go to Institute together."

She shook her head. "I don't think you can, it's meant for only one person. And we don't even know if it will work, although the Railroad agents think it can." Her hand played at the back of his neck. "It's a prototype, and - I might as easily end up obliterated as transported anywhere Shaun might be."

"I don't like the sound of that. But I know you have to do this." He placed his head on her chest. He knew for as much as she loved him, she loved her son too, and for that love you would be willing to go to the ends of the earth to save, even if it meant you died trying.

"It might be the only chance I get." She ran her hands through his hair again.

"Where are you going to build it?"

"I've arranged for it to be built in Sanctuary. I'm waiting to hear that we have the sensor and parts we need. But I- I want to leave as soon as I can. That might be tomorrow or a few days."

"Then I'll come with you to Sanctuary and I'll wait there for you. If you want." He wasn't pleased, but he would do the very same if it were Duncan. He was silent for a moment and his grip hardened on her behind.

"I want, very much." She kissed him again, just a peck, but he felt the tension he held swept away in the taste of her lips.

They stayed quiet together on the couch for a while, kissing and caressing one another. He searched her face for more tears that he could kiss away but they rapidly dwindled, but he kissed her cheeks anyway. Her hands found their way to the back of his neck, and he was never more thankful than at that moment to Vadim for allowing him to wash at least some of the grime away. He buried his face into her neck as her hand continued combing his scalp. There was barely a hint of perfume from the soap she used but to him she smelt like a field of flowers and her neck was soft under his dry lips.

"What now, General?" He kissed her and rubbed her thigh.

She gave him a blank look. "I-, what?"

He laughed and traced a finger down from her neck to her cleavage. "What now?" he repeated.

She gave him a smile that lit up her whole face. "Oh, yes, um-" She put a hand on his cheek and gave him a lingering kiss. Her body pressed up tight against him. "Well, would you like to try the comfort of my bed, given you've been sleeping in that sack on the floor for over a week?" She pointed to the sleeping bag tucked in the corner of the room currently littered with comics.

His brows rose and he nodded enthusiastically, feeling a flush come to his face. If he'd been in a race he knew he'd be running a victory lap right about now. She slid off his lap and grabbed his hand as he trailed behind her with a goofy smirk sitting across his face. At the top of the stairs he threw his hat on the bed and kissed her as he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. She held his face with her hands and caressed his cheeks.

He broke apart from the kiss but their faces remained close. "Hang on a minute. Stay right here." He let go of her and bolted down the stairs back to the living area. He grabbed the whiskey and two glasses from the bar. If ever this was a celebratory moment, one worthy of Old Appalachia, this was it. He headed back to the loft bedroom; the glasses clinked against the bottle as he took three steps at a time to reach the top.

At the top, Molly sat kneeling in the middle of the bed, wearing only his cap and a wide smile. He stood and stared. Where Molly's face and arms were sun kissed the rest of her stood stark white with the familiar fleck of ginger freckles dappled over much of the rest of her body. But it was that goddamn smile he couldn't take his eyes off. He put the Old Appalachia down next to her pip boy and stripped as fast as he could. He was so keen to remove his pants he forgot he was still wearing his boots. His heart was racing and blood flowed straight to his cock, making him giddy. He could see her wiggling her hips invitingly under her heels as he undid his laces and threw the mud-spattered boots to one side.

She laughed an open mouth hearty laugh as he struggled out of the rest of his clothes tearing at them with abandon. When he removed his underwear, she hid a shy giggle behind her hand. He couldn't hide his eager erection. He bounded onto the bed, grabbed her around the waist, locked his lips on hers and kissed her hard. She molded herself into him putting her arms around his neck and leaning her elbows on his shoulders. They fell gently back on the bed and her legs unfolded and relaxed around him as he lay on top of her but still not inside her. He was going to make this moment last. "I want to kiss every single freckle on your body, Molly Gould."

She laughed and her hands went behind his head to play with his hair. "That might take a while, MacCready. There are quite a lot."

"Good. That was the plan."