Author's Note:

Hey guys! I hope you enjoy this chapter, I had a really fun time writing it. We get a fair amount of dialogue (and some bonding) between Lydia and Mac!

Chapter 11

We Are the Dead

"Something kind of hit me today

I looked at you and wondered

If you saw things my way"

We Are the Dead - David Bowie

After stopping to chat with one of the Russian men who owned the inn, Lydia was pointed in the direction of the room Mac had rented. There had only been one available, so they'd have to share again.

Lydia pushed open the door to room number two. Mac sat sprawled out on the end of the couch, feet propped on the coffee table and a bottle in his hand. He didn't look up as she walked in, his gaze far away. He tilted the bottle to his lips and took a swig.

"Guess we're stuck in the same room again," Lydia said by way of a greeting.

Mac glanced over to her, then turned his attention to the liquor. Lydia unloaded her bag onto the floor near the bed and took a seat on the opposite end of the couch.

"So where are the caps I gave you for the second room?"

Giving Lydia a toothy grin, Mac held up the bottle in his hand. His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot and she wondered how much he'd had to drink.

Lydia reached over and plucked the bottle from his fingers. He made a half-hearted attempt to grab it back but she was too quick for him in his drunken state. She looked down at the crude label on the bottle that read "Bobrov's Best Moonshine" before lifting the bottle to her lips and taking a drink of her own.

"Ugh," she shuddered as the liquid warmth slid down her throat. "This is their 'best'? What is this shit, battery acid?"

Mac chuckled and scrubbed a hand over his eyes. "Does the trick."

"I see that," Lydia remarked and took another drink. She eyed the merc, who now sat with his hands folded over his middle, once again staring at nothing. "Ground control to Major Tom," she said, snapping her fingers near his ear.

He blinked and focused his eyes on her face. His gaze was intense, and she began to grow uncomfortable under his scrutiny. "How old are you, anyway?" he asked.

She laughed and shook her head. Such a simple question with such a loaded answer. She had been twenty-three when they'd gone into the vault, and frozen for two-hundred-ten years. "Two-hundred-thirty-three," Lydia answered honestly. She took another swig of the bitter moonshine.

Mac scoffed. "Fine don't tell me," he said. He reached over and took the bottle back. "I'm twenty-two."

Lydia raised her eyebrows in surprise. She'd had him pegged in his mid-to-late twenties, maybe twenty-five at the youngest. He noticed the shock on her face and smirked. Lydia's insides warmed at the sight of it.

It's just the moonshine, she assured herself.

"Surprised?" he asked.

"A little," she admitted. "Had you figured for older."

"Yeah well, I didn't grow up in a cushy vault. It's a harsh living out here in the Wasteland. I've seen things…done things that…" he trailed off, leaving the thought hanging.

Lydia didn't bother asking him how he knew she'd come from a vault. She'd gotten that answer from a few different people already. And she wasn't surprised that he'd figured it out, anyway. He was very perceptive.

The silenced stretched between them for a while as they passed the bottle back and forth.

"I'm twenty-three," Lydia said finally. The moonshine had loosened her up and she decided to give Mac the simple answer. For now, at least. She tilted back the bottle and finished off the last sip.

Deciding that it was time to get some sleep, Lydia set the empty bottle down on the coffee table and stood. She made her way to the light switch and flipped it off before falling into bed.

A few minutes later she heard a rustling from Mac's direction, then a flicker of light momentarily illuminated his face as he lit a cigarette.

It was quiet in the room for another few minutes as Lydia listened to Mac inhale and exhale smoke.

"My name isn't Tom, by the way," he suddenly spoke up, referencing her comment from earlier.

Lydia burst into laughter.

"What's so funny?" Mac asked, which caused her to laugh harder.

Her sides ached and she wiped tears from her eyes as her laughter finally died out. "It's from a song," she explained. "You know, 'Space Oddity' by David Bowie?"

"Never heard of him," Mac said.

"Oh that's so sad. You're really missing out."

Mac didn't reply, just continued smoking his cigarette.

"You never actually told me your first name," she said into the darkness.

"You never told me your last," he countered.

"True," Lydia agreed.

"It's Robert," he said after a moment. "Robert Joseph MacCready."

Lydia opened her mouth to tell him her last name but paused. She had almost given him her married name. But Nate was dead now, and she'd always preferred her maiden name, anyway. "It's Monroe," she told him.

"Like Monroe Sporting Goods," he said.

Lydia's heart froze in her chest. "What did you say?" she asked, staring into the darkness in Mac's direction.

"Monroe Sporting Goods," he repeated. "In Lexington, over near the Corvega plant? I cleared some raiders out of there a while back. You know the place?"

Not only did Lydia know the store, but she'd worked there nearly her whole life. Monroe Sporting Goods had been belonged to her father.

"Yeah, I know it," was all she said.

There was no more taking after that, and eventually the pair fell asleep.

The next morning was relatively uneventful. Mac spent his time following Lydia around the market square as she bartered with various merchants, unloading the things she'd collected from their trip to Park Street Station.

"Have you ever had this guy's noodles?" Mac asked as they passed the noodle stand.

"No," Lydia shook her head. "Are they any good?"

"Amazing!" he exclaimed. "Come on, my treat."

Lydia shrugged. "I could eat," she said and followed him up to the stand.

"So are you gonna tell me how it went with the detective last night?" Mac asked as they ate.

Lydia swallowed the bite she'd been chewing before she answered. "He said he's going to do some research and that it might be a couple days before he knows anything."

They finished breakfast and Lydia led Mac over to Valentine's office, where she asked him to wait outside while she went in to check up on the detective.

Mac leaned against a wall in the alley and lit a cigarette, telling himself that he wasn't bothered by once again being excluded. He'd only taken a few puffs when Lydia came back out. He raised his eyebrows in question.

"Ellie said he's out following a lead," Lydia informed him. She shrugged. "He did say it would be at least a couple days. I'm just anxious for answers."

Lydia lit her own cigarette and leaned against the wall opposite Mac. His thoughts were a battleground as he fought with himself. Should he ask her about the person she was looking for? After a few moments, he'd made the decision to keep his mouth shut. She'd tell him when she wanted to.

Apparently his mouth didn't get the message.

"Who are you looking for, anyway?" he blurted out.

Lydia took a long drag of her cigarette and blew the smoke through her nose. "My son," she said quietly. She didn't offer any other information and Mac didn't ask.

Shit, Mac thought. He opened and closed his mouth a few times trying to find the right thing to say. "Oh," was all he could get out.

The pair stood in awkward silence while they both finished their cigarettes. Lydia finally broke the quiet. "Well, as long as we're stuck in town waiting for Nick, I need to sew up the hole in this jacket," she gestured to the spot where she'd been grazed by one of the Triggermen's bullets the day before. "Also I really should pick up some other clothes, just in case. Did I tell you I had to leave Amari's the other day wearing nothing but a sheet?"

"No you didn't," Mac laughed, wishing (for more than one reason) that he could have seen it. She pushed off the wall, making her way back toward the market square. Mac fell into step beside her.

"I'm just glad I made it to Daisy's before it started raining," she continued. "I would've really given those drifters something to see then."

Mac felt that twitch between his legs again at the thought of her in nothing but a wet sheet.

"You know, Boss," he said, trying to distract himself from the mental images, "I think I'm gonna need a raise if you're wanting me to follow you around while you shop."

Lydia laughed and bumped him with her shoulder. "You don't have to follow me around. Go back to the inn and get a drink or something."

Mac shrugged but didn't respond. He didn't mind following her around, and actually enjoyed her company. He hadn't smiled so much in a long time. It was nice.

Stepping up to the armour workbench outside of Diamond City Surplus, Lydia removed her pack. She handed it to Mac to hold, then shrugged out of her leather jacket. Mac tried not to notice the way he could see the black of her bra through her white tank.

"Want me to fix up that rag for you while I'm at it?" Lydia asked, pointing to his old duster.

"Heck no! It's got character," he said in defense of his coat.

Lydia laughed. "Yeah well, if it gets any more 'character' it's going to fall apart."

"Ha ha," Mac said, watching as she went to work mending her coat.

"Actually," Lydia spoke up over the motor of the sewing machine, "there is something you can do for me while we're in the city."

"Besides standing here and looking pretty?" Mac quipped.

"Yes, besides that," Lydia laughed. "Seriously though, keep an eye out for that reporter. She keeps hounding me for an interview."

"What do you want me to do if I see her? Shoot her?" he asked sarcastically.

"Tempting," Lydia replied, "but no. Just let me know so I have time to hide."

Lydia finished her sewing job and drug Mac around the market for a while longer. Finally, they headed back toward the inn. As they rounded a corner, Mac stepped in front of her. "Piper incoming," he whispered over his shoulder.

"Shit," Lydia whispered back, ducking down beside a trash can. Mac stood in front to block her.

"Is she gone?" Lydia asked after a minute.

"No, just stay there," Mac said, lighting a cigarette.

After another minute, Lydia whispered loudly, "It smells really awful back here."

Mac's shoulders began to shake as he laughed quietly.

"Are you laughing at me?" His laugh grew louder. "She's not even there is she?" Lydia asked flatly.

Mac stepped away and turned to face her, now laughing out loud. "No, I just wondered how long I could get you to hide by that garbage can."

Lydia stood, taking a step toward Mac and shoving him off balance. "You're such an ass!" she yelled, but there was a smile on her face.

"That's true," he agreed, twisting his lips into his smirk. "But seriously, she is coming now," he pointed behind her.

Lydia stuck out her hip and rested her hand on it. "Ha ha. Think I'm stupid enough to fall for that twice in a row?"

"Hey, Blue!" Piper called from behind her.

Lydia's mouth fell open and Mac burst into peals of laughter. She shot daggers at him with her eyes as Piper stepped up beside them.

"I'll catch up with you later, then," Mac said to Lydia. He turned and headed toward the inn, laughing as he went.

Lydia entered the Dugout and immediately spotted Mac sitting on a barstool. She marched over and took the seat next to him. "I should dock your pay for that," she mumbled.

Mac laughed and gave Lydia a mischievous smile. He raised a bottle of Gwinnet Ale to his lips, but Lydia snatched it away. She lifted the bottle to her own mouth and downed the remainder.

"Are you gonna keep doing that?" he asked.

"Are you gonna keep pissing me off?" she countered.

"Probably," he smirked.

Lydia shook her head and smiled. Again, she felt a flutter down low at the sight of that smirk.