12.21.2290 THURS - Actions, Words

Piper returned Jun's work, along with her edits. "It's great, Jun." She stood from the mattress in their room and rifled through her bag for her medicine. She guzzled it down with water, a treacherous act according to her sweet tooth, but one she found ultimately made her feel better. Sleeping had helped too. Now it was the wait that bothered her. That, and the residual aches in her body.

"You look better…not that I mean you looked worse, only that you seem less weary than before."

"I knew what you meant. Yeah, the doc's good at what he does. It's just the patient that needs some work. Can't germs do their germ thing on a better schedule? Sheesh."

Jun laughed at the joke and returned to his work. "Any idea what…he will say when he gets here?"

"No," said Piper. Given the important task Hancock was on, Piper found it best to let Hancock announce his own arrival. No sense getting the conference riled up for something that had a small chance of not happening. "Jun, there's a chance that this whole thing'll go south for us. Literally."

Jun's eyes dipped in concern. "What do you mean?"

"I mean quite literally, we might have to move our base of operations back to Diamond City. Meaning we lose that nice press Sturges made, the new terminals, and…possibly reporters."

Jun set down his pencil. "Oh…"

"I'm not asking you to make a choice. I mean, I'd like you to choose to come with me, but I understand why you wouldn't."

"There is no choice. We would go with you."

"But why? And what about what Marcy thinks?"

"Marcy never really settled in to Sanctuary, and she never liked farming. Knowing you has opened up this world of creativity for her, for both of us. Since…since he died…"

She put her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry Jun. You don't have to talk about that."

"I…I want to, some time."

"We will then, some time."

He shook it off. He'd gotten a lot better at that since joining the paper, but Piper wasn't sure if it were all that healthy. "Regardless," he continued, "I think we'd move. She wouldn't do it just for my benefit. It'd be a joint decision. We'd go."

Piper rapped the end of her pen on the edge of the mattress. "I'd like to bring along Joanna, too."

"She's done great work so far."

Piper released a drawn out sigh of disappointment. "I just don't want to lose all those distribution lines. Blue's relay system has been a boon to us."

Jun settled into his seat, resting his back against the wall so that he fully faced her. "Piper, why are you so worried? Do you think she'll really punish you for publishing all of this?"

"I don't know." She flopped backwards onto the mattress. At Marcy's insistence, she brought along an extra blanket to cover it. Now, the fuzzy fabric protected her ear and cheek from the mattress' rough and dirty topside. "I've been wondering if she only used me to help her find Shaun."

"Absolutely not," Jun said without hesitation. "She built that office for you, because she believes in you."

"Because I made her look good in the paper."

"Because she loves you," Jun corrected. "She gave you a terminal and invested in your future. You two might be at odds now, but that's how family works."

"I didn't want to be her family, Jun."

"But that's where you are. I've known Nora for a long time, and she didn't have to help us to save her son. If anything, we delayed her from finding him. She's just not very good at…romantic relationships. That's on her. But she's never let spats between friends get in the way of what's important. You've seen the deeds she's forgiven. Publishing this isn't going to change that."

"But if she doesn't apologize…?"

"Maybe she will, but she doesn't know how. Just know that your story won't end if she doesn't."

Piper stared at the ceiling above, a bricolage of metals, woods, and plastics, and listened to the radio playing down the hall. Travis spoke of Blue's latest exploits, unverified gossip coupled with speculative questions, before introducing the next tune. With a platform as popular and as far reaching as the radio, couldn't he try just a little harder?

What was Piper's story, anyway?

"Believe it or not, Jun, you're not the first person to say that to me." She folded her hands on her stomach. "Nick said something like that to me once too, back when Blue was missing."

"I hope someday you believe us."

"Yeah," she said. "Me too."

Whoever'd been listening to the radio silenced it. Piper hated that song anyway, and the quiet unearthed a commotion of shouts and yells, indiscernible in meaning, and coming from what sounded like the perimeter of the settlement. Piper and Jun shared a look and grabbed their notebooks and jackets—and Piper's 10mm—before rushing off to see what the chilly night had brought in.

She found a still-disguised Deacon amongst the guards at the hill, sharing a smoke with Malik. She glared at Deacon, and immediately hated him and those damned sunglasses for the emotions they hid. Well, she didn't need a return glare anyway. It was enough to know that no one was called to arms, which could only mean someone special had arrived.

Hancock.

The mayor flashed a smile at Piper upon surmounting the incline, and found himself in step with a collection of admirers. She and Jun followed closely behind them, watching as Samira Amer and other keynote speakers greeted him.

"You know what we need, Jun?" Piper said as they flanked the crowd, gravel and twigs crunching underfoot as they entered the campsite.

"What's that?"

"A functioning camera and film lab."

"I'll look into the costs of that."

"Aaaaaaand some way of reprinting them."

He grinned. "That might be a little harder."

"Wouldn't that be perfect right now?" Piper gazed at the mayor. Hancock's dark eyes twinkled and scrunched and widened. His long coat wavered in the breeze, the buttons glistening in the campfires around him. He listened intently to everyone who spoke to him, meeting each of their eyes, nodding and responding without interrupting. That's what set him aside as a leader; he truly cared and he truly listened. The only lie he ever told was about his name, and even then, maybe he wasn't that guy anymore anyway. Hancock was his truth, and that truth could be captured on film.

She needed to interview him.

"Time to get to work," she said to Jun. "Mayor Hancock!" Piper flagged him down.

His head lifted from his conversation. He apologized to the person he spoke to with a promise to get back to them, and welcomed Piper to the circle that had formed around him.

"Piper Wright. Looking better already."

"How about an interview, Mr. Mayor?"

"An interview, huh?" He grinned and winked at those surrounding him, who offered their approval of such a process. "How can I refuse?"

"Mayor Hancock?" A settler stepped forward. "That tent I told you about is getting set up right now. You can do the interview in there."

"Thanks—Ernie, was it?" The settler nodded. Hancock bowed his head. "Thanks Ernie. I appreciate that."

"This way, please."

"You already snagged yourself a place to stay?" Piper whispered.

"Seems so," Hancock replied. "Everything's done. That sister of yours is sharp. You know how many papers she got me to buy?"

"Three."

"You're lowballing, Pipes. Let's just say Takahashi'll be giving away a free paper with every purchase for a while."

Piper cackled and blew hot air on her fingers. She'd need to write quick with a guy like Hancock. She jotted down a note to check on the cost of holotapes. Maybe Sturges or Ada would be able to manufacture new ones.

While settlers insisted Hancock not assist with the setup of his own tent, one not unlike the one Deacon had acquired, other settlers regaled him with stories of their own suffering and othering, and the occasional hilarious, endearing tale. Across the camp, Piper suspected, Jun gathered more of these stories too. Deacon kept his distance, bouncing between groups that never quite intersected with those she and Hancock traveled into. She caught Cait lingering with a group of guards, laughing and acting out fight moves.

"It's getting late, Pipes," said Hancock, holding the flap of the finished tent back and inviting her in. "You sure you wanna do this now?"

"Yeah, let's do this."

It was homey, for a tent. Complete with a sleeping bag, an extra blanket, two empty, overturned crates, and a lantern. Hancock had been sure to pay those who donated their extra items.

"A seat, miss?" He smiled and offered her a crate.

"Why thank you, Mr. Mayor."

He unloaded his bag. The most recognizable items outside of necessities and ammo were Mentats, another blanket, and a bottle of bourbon. The last item was a ball of newspaper that looked a lot like Tuesday's special edition of Publick Occurrences.

"Goodness, you think the article was that bad?"

"It's not what you think, but let's get to the interview first." He pulled up the other crate and made himself comfortable, leaning forward with his elbows resting casually on his knees. "Lay it on me, Pipes."

"Why is this conference important to you?"

"Because what's happenin' here ain't right."

"Could you elaborate?"

"People are suffering after being promised they wouldn't. I wanted to show them I share their vision for a better world, but I also gotta make it clear that I ain't gonna take sides in this. Diplomacy shit, and all. Maybe clear some things up about how I became mayor down in Goodneighbor."

"How did you become mayor?"

"Well it wasn't by election, I'll tell you that much. I stay in power because they want me there, and I never want to get too comfortable with it."

"So if the people of Goodneighbor so desired…"

"Then I'd let it happen. It's my job to let 'em know they're safe and equal. Can't go preaching equality if I ain't ready to relinquish my post when asked."

"What drew you to Goodneighbor?"

"It's the anti-Jewel. Some mayors think the only way to polish somethin' is to define what ain't shiny. I figure too much shine means somethin' is lackin'. And anyone who'd exploit the suffering of others for political gain is a piece of shit. Can't polish shit."

Piper took a giggle break. "You really hate him that much?"

"That on the record?"

She put her pen down. "Nope."

"Lately I don't think I hate him so much. I've been thinking about that story you did."

"I could've been more tactful about it…" She sighed. "Someone was killed."

He reached for her hand. "I'm serious, try not to carry all that guilt, Pipes. I'm telling you, that shit gets too heavy."

"Forget about it. Continue."

"I think I still love him. The change was drastic. One day, he was…well, a piece of shit, for a brother. The next…a monster."

"Talk to him sometime, maybe?"

"And let the Institute get wise to our connection? Nah. Shit, maybe they already know. But I won't let 'em think me or Goodneighbor can get used in one of their games. If they did switch him, where the hell is he? Dead? Rotting in a cell somewhere, barely holdin' on to sanity? And if they did, do I have them to thank for this mug? Ain't a road I wanna consider. Not ready for that yet."

She squeezed his hand. "That's fine. Besides, we were supposed to involve drinks for all this, remember?"

He snorted. "Heh, how could I forget a standing date like that?"

She let go and picked up her pen. "Have any words for the Minutemen settlements?"

"Yeah," he said. "Be yourself. It scares the shit out of those in charge."

She chuckled and wrote that down, underscoring it thrice before turning her grin from paper to mayor. "I like it, Hancock. Very fitting."

"I like it too," said Deacon, appearing at the tent flaps. "Not really my style, but I like it. Interview over, or am I too early?"

Piper and Hancock shared a fond nod. "Yeah," she said. "Interview over. For now."

"Good," Deacon said. "Mind if I join you? Found this killer bottle of booze and figured it needed drinking." He produced the shiny bottle of whiskey he'd stolen from Hancock. Over half the bottle remained.

"You sneaky bastard," said Hancock. "Bring that shit over here."

"Okay," Piper said, standing. Maybe Deacon were about to apologize. She'd give him the benefit of the doubt this once, but only once. "If we're about to get hammered, I'm going to seek out some food. Don't start without me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," said Hancock.

"Maybe snag one of those colas if you can," Deacon suggested.

"Obviously."

In the camp, those who didn't retire to their tents either stood watch, or cooked night-owl meals. It was a lot of bloatfly. Some visitors had their own quiet booze parties, or cozied with lovers. Cait was still chatting with the soldiers. Piper found Jun sitting with Samira, but he took momentary leave of their conversation to catch up with Piper.

"We're going into the last half of this, Jun. It's pretty exciting."

"I know!" Sleep pulled at Jun's eyes, but so did a love of his work. "I've been writing Marcy a letter all night. Would you take it with you on your next run back?"

"Of course," she said. "How're the people?"

"They're so kind, and generous. I think when this is through, I'll do another story on Miss Amer. She's incredible, Piper, not for having put this burden on her shoulders, but for the little things. She was just telling me about a scoped rifle she'd been given by her mother as a child, and how she practiced every day to hunt. I'm telling you, she'd give MacCready a run for his caps."

"That alone tells me you need to write that. Approved." Her stomach rumbled, and the cold made her nose start to run. She sniffled a mix of snot and campfire smoke. "Hey, speaking of generosity, know of anyone with some spare starch for say…three people with two bottles of hard liquor? I'd invite you, but you're not a big fan of whiskey."

Jun laughed. "Honestly, I'll be fine right where I am tonight. Head back to the room. I bought a ton of potato crisps and snack cakes from today's caravan. Take whatever you need."

"Thanks, Jun." She gave him a quick hug. "I owe you."

"I'm not running a tab."

She returned to the tent with a sack full of goodies and precisely one Nuka-Cola. Hancock and Deacon played cards across a gap filled with a whopping two caps.

"Betting and booze sounds like a bad idea," she said. She doled out the snacks, but pulled away before Deacon could grab anything. "It needs to be sincere."

He repositioned himself on the crate that had previously been hers. He removed his sunglasses and looked her in the eye. "I'm sorry for being insensitive, Piper. What I did was wrong. Really wrong. It was a mistake then, and it was a mistake to recall it so casually and without remorse."

"And you will always do what you can to make up for it and make sure no one else makes the same mistake."

"Always."

Hancock gave the apology a perplexed look.

"And?" said Piper.

"I need to be mindful about my disguises, and consider what the subtext of wearing those disguises means." Just as Piper was about to scold him for his stiff tone, he leaned forward and sighed that insincerity away. "Piper, I don't want to be that guy, and despite all the bullshit I sling everyone's way, calling me out when that bullshit is tearing up the bigger picture instead of protecting it? I appreciate that."

She scanned his eyes and reflected on his tone. This was a start. He needed to back up those words with actions—and not at his convenience, either—but this was a start. "I believe you," she said, and she held out a tube of potato crisps.

"Ooh, no, leave those off," said Hancock as Deacon reached for his sunglasses. "Who knew you were so damn sexy under those shades?"

"You should see the rest of me," Deacon said.

Hancock snorted. "Kinda think I just did. Someone tell MacCready he's got a little competition."

Deacon turned to Piper with a betrayed look. "He knows too?"

"The whole damn Commonwealth knows," Hancock said, shuffling a new round. "You in, Pipes?"

She popped the cap off her Nuka-Cola and dropped it in the patch of dirt with the other two. "I'm in."

12.22.2290 FRI

No amount of body heat or sleeping bags could warm the ground beneath them. Only the sun could achieve such a feat, but from the look of the soft light through the flaps of the tent, the sun was as sleepy as Piper felt. Her heavy coat/temporary blanket had fallen to her ankles, along with the actual blanket they had tried to share. The chill on her face ran down her neck, stopping at the warmth of Deacon's head. Great. Moving would wake him. Keeping Hancock sound asleep would be more of a challenge. He had chosen her abdomen as a pillow and her right hand as additional cushioning. This was definitely not the way they'd fallen asleep.

Despite the curse of alcohol and night dulling their wakefulness, they'd only tapped the shiny bottle dry, and barely mixed it with cola. At her and Deacon's feet—not Hancock's, since he was almost perpendicular to them—two empty potato crisp tubes sat stuffed with empty wrappers and crinkled boxes. One of them must've kicked the deck of cards in their sleep, for they were scattered in a fan shape near the refuse, some overturned.

Early morning. A provisioner would arrive soon, if Piper weren't terribly off on her estimation of time. Nat and Nick knew how to respond to the messages. No one would understand their replies if they were intercepted. If they'd even found anything by now. Piper had to hope.

The Nuka-Cola, probably flat but still technically viable as a drink, sat opened on one of the crates. That was her first stop, if she could figure out how to politely get up without alarming her friends.

When had that happened?

How strange and a little amusing that the reporter awoke between two people so opposite in method. One seemed to be Truth Incarnate; the other Lies. Perhaps Fiction were a better noun in this instance, because fiction did not always mislead for the sake of deception. There was a lot of truth in fiction, and that truth connected people to parts of themselves they'd never known before. Both men were facets of Fiction. To some degree, so was Piper.

She yawned silently, letting her muscles talk to each other. Doctor Grant's remedies had worked faster than she'd originally thought. No wonder Blue always tried to get her supplements from him, unless she was in a pinch.

She slithered one hand out from under someone, then gently tapped the hand Deacon had on her hip. Nothing. She tapped again, and he responded with a soft press and a stubborn roll of his head on her back.

"I don't wanna go to school today," he muttered, muffled by her shirt.

She tapped his hand again. "Come on, Deacon," she said with a soft whisper.

He uttered a drowsy groan and turned on his back. Now it was time to move Hancock. She slipped her hand under the base of his neck and lifted herself slightly. There. Now she could slide into a sitting position and leave him be. The cool morning air gave her an abrupt greeting when she did.

"Cold," Deacon complained quietly.

She reached for the blanket and lay it back over him, giving her the opportunity to snag her coat. She set Hancock down where she once lay.

"You leavin', Pipes?" Hancock said, groggy.

"I have work to do." She hand-combed her hair.

"You do what you gotta." He sat up, rubbing his head, then pulled his red overcoat up into his lap. "You leavin' before or after my speech?"

"Almost immediately after." She reached for the Nuka-Cola and sipped it. Flat, but tasty, and it removed the stale morning from her mouth. She offered some to Hancock, and he accepted.

A sleepy sigh escaped his lips. "Hang on a sec." He stretched his arms and leaned until he could reach the ball of newspaper he had amongst his things. "This is for you."

She took it, and found it slightly heavier than anticipated. "A gift?"

"Yeah," Hancock said, while Deacon rolled on his side to observe. "Open it."

She turned it in her hands until she found an edge, then peeled back the paper. Inside sat a flat, gilded circle encompassing a bugler and their bugle. Golden tassels dangled beneath them, and a keychain extended from the top of the circle. It was the Boston Bugle's logo. She beamed at him. "How did you find one with the tassels still attached?"

"I've been checking every stall, caravan, and abandoned loot pile for the past few months. Spotted this one on Cronin's hip and convinced him to sell it to me. Said it belonged to one of their sportswriters back then."

She carefully flicked the tassels. "This is incredible, Hancock. I don't know what to say other than thank you."

"You don't even have to say that, Pipes."

Warmed by the thoughtful gesture, she rewrapped the gift and tucked it into her pocket before standing for her farewell. "Well, sorry for waking you guys, but I've gotta go on a stakeout for a provisioner, soooo…see you in a bit. Don't sleep in too late."

Hancock shrugged on his coat. "Later, Pipes."

"See you around like a…jelly-filled breakfast treat," said Deacon.

Hancock shivered a little. He nodded at the blanket. "Say, you cool to heat up a ghoul?"

Deacon lifted the blanket. "Bring it in, Mr. Mayor." His brows raised in realization, and he quickly added, "Uh, that is, if you don't mind sharing a blanket with an asshole who—"

Hancock sidled beneath the blanket. "I ain't stupid. I got the gist of it last night, but I ain't the one who's gonna absolve you. Now let's shake this chill and get some sleep."

Deacon nodded. "Yeah, yeah, good plan."

Piper put on her cap. "Bye guys."

She exited the tent to find the settlement sitting just above a morning fog. Small swirls of white nestled behind boulders and in small depressions, but most of it filled the lower elevations of the Commonwealth. She could see the guards at the main entrance, and the morning campfire by the founding shack, but only treetops could be seen beyond. She wove her way between early risers and the family of delicious sauce makers, who were cooking a large breakfast of (probably) bloatfly, then introduced herself to the guards on the dawn shift.

"No provisioners in yet," one said. "Want us to find you when they show?"

"No, I'll wait," Piper said. "Mind if I smoke?"

"Got an extra?"

The two shared a smoke break until a figure sans pack brahmin emerged from the fog. Guards cautiously took position, no fingers on triggers, but barrels raised. As the figure drew nearer, Piper smiled.

"It's Nick Valentine."

The guards eased and Piper ran down to greet him with a hug. His cold jacket smelled of Diamond City, that strange melange of noodle broth, cigarettes, and rusting metal.

"Nick! You didn't have to come yourself."

"Morning, Piper." He smiled, his broken synthetic skin wrinkling at the edges. "Nat and I have been doing a little digging. You and Jun ready to have your minds blown, or should we scrounge up some coffee first?"

She bounced on her heels and smirked, grabbing his skeletal metal hand. "Forget the coffee." She hauled him up the hill. "Let's get Jun and report some news."

Author's Note

Hey everyone! We are very close to the end! I'd really love to know how I'm doing so far. Let me know what you like and what I can improve upon. Your feedback will not only recharge my soul (we all need a little boost!), but actually help me with all the technical aspects of the sequel, which I'm currently writing. Thank you so much! I hope to hear from you.