Perhaps going to the old church was not one of Jack's best ideas. It was oh so ironic that his birthday happened to fall on a Sunday this year, too.

The feral ghouls were absolutely relentless, showing no sign of retreating any time soon. Piper kicked a ghoul away from the door, firing her 10mm into the crowd, successfully killing a few.

"I left my Fat Man back at home," Jack groaned, firing an entire round of his rifle at the ghouls.

"Yeah, that would have come in real handy, Jack!" Piper exclaimed.

"Well, somebody insisted I celebrated my birthday!" he argued back.

"You were the one who said we should come to this goddamn church!" she continued on.

Their mini-argument distracted them from the task at hand, allowing for a few ghouls to enter the church before the two finally snapped out of it, Piper standing in front of the door to stop the other ghouls from entering.

God-fucking-dammit, Jack thought. "Piper, move that bookshelf in the corner in front of the door! I'll stand in front of the door while you move it and take out these ghouls."

Nodding, the reporter dashed to the empty bookshelf, pushing it over while Jack took on the ferals. As soon as the bookshelf was in front of the door, the vault dweller continued his fight with the few ghouls that had broken in.

Jack ducked as the feral swung its arm at him, kicking its legs out from underneath it. He threw his knife at the other ghoul before shooting the one on the ground before him.

"I've still got it… for a two-hundred forty-one-year-old man," he bragged, spinning the knife in his hand.

Piper eyed a feral on the floor behind him. "Blue, watch out!" she exclaimed as the ghoul picked itself up off the ground, lunging at Jack.

A pained growl came from the former soldier as the ghoul's claws shredded through the chest of his coat. Grabbing his pistol that was holstered on his leg, he fired into the feral's head, killing it before it could do any more damage.

His companion rushed to his side. "Goddamn, Jack. You alright?"

"I'll be f-fine, Piper," he attempted to reassure her. "The cuts aren't that deep. Just hurts like absolute hell…"

Piper guided him as he sat down against the side of the piano. "I told you, you should have put the damn armor on with the coat, instead of just the coat."

"I didn't know we were going to be attacked by ferals," he argued. Piper lightly slapped him on the chest, enough to make him grunt in pain. In a pained voice, he said, "M-Maybe I should have put the armor on, t-too."

"That's what I thought," she said, thrusting the needle of a stimpack into his chest. "Now, how the hell are we getting out of here?"

Jack thought for a moment, leaning his head against the piano. We can't jump out of the holes in the roof, too high… the holes in the walls are too small… Wait. "I've got my flare gun in my bag. I can shoot a flare up through a hole in the wall or something, and the Minutemen should find their way here," he explained. "Can you grab my bag?"

She nodded, quickly grabbing his bag that was discarded on one of the pews, and handed it to him. He searched through his bag, finally finding the flare gun. Aiming it out of the hole in the wall near him, he fired the flare straight into the sky. And now, we wait. "That should do it," he said, dropping the gun on the ground next to him.

Piper sat down against the wall a few feet away from him, sighing and crossing her arms. "So much for a happy birthday."

That's an understatement. Jack grabbed his pack of cigarettes out of his bag, along with Nora's lighter. Lighting a cigarette, he placed the cancer stick between his lips before flicking the lighter on and off. Snick. This time, he messed with the lighter out of spite of Piper.

"Don't burn yourself," she warned. There it is.

"I don't need to hear it right now, Red," Jack said in reply, but stopped flicking the lighter anyway. Dropping the old flip lighter next to him, he pulled his knees up to his chest despite the pain it caused.

His head was beginning to feel foggy. Perhaps it was from smoking, but he didn't give much a care at the moment. Besides, he knew that wasn't the case at all. Jack put out the current cigarette he had, having quickly gone through it. He reached for his pack that lay discarded next to him to find they were empty.

Great. Third box I've gone through since Friday. A frustrated growl escaped past his lips as he found his last pack in his bag, immediately pulling out another cigarette. "I've gone through like, three packs of these in the matter of three days," he said sourly, lighting it up. "I used to smoke cigars back in the day. You know, when I was actually more mentally stable."

Jack laughed it off while Piper stared at him as if he had four heads. He knew full well that letting things like that slip would cost him, but at this point, he didn't give a flying fuck. He had the entire weight of the world on his shoulders, so what did it matter? It wasn't like anyone would give a shit. As the "savior of the Commonwealth," he was expected to be the strong and silent type (which he never was). He was forced to just bottle it all up like a bottle of whiskey. There was no venting. There was no down time. Just work. It wasn't his damn job to get emotional. And so, here he was, boiling over and coming apart at the seams.

He just laughed it off. It's nothing new.

"What do you mean by that?" Piper questioned with genuine concern. "You've been acting a little strange in the past hour, Blue."

I'm dying and I'm trying, but believe me, I'm fine. "Don't worry about it," he answered, blowing a puff of smoke in her direction. But I'm lying, I'm so very far from fine.

His bones ached and his head felt even more spacey by the minute. Quit being cowardly and get it out, killer. Jack could tell by the look in her eyes that she didn't believe the words that escaped his lips. It didn't surprise him, but he wanted her to believe it.

For as much as you hate lies, you sure do lie a lot. You make me sick, his intrusive inner voice spoke.

"Jack, that's a lie and you know it." She grabbed his box to pull out a cigarette of her own, lighting it. "I'm a reporter, it's my job to figure out the truth. You know I'm nosy enough that I'll end up figuring it out sooner or later. If you need to get it out, I'm right here."

Damn you. Tension built up in chest, rising up into his throat in the form of poorly thought out words. He needed to just let it out, no matter how jumbled or disjointed it may be.

"Piper, I'm going to say it upfront. The stress is fucking killing me," Jack began, but not sure how to continue. He stood up and began to pace the floor, grabbing at his neck. "Since I left that damn vault, I've had problem stacked on top of problem to deal with. It's gotten to my damn head, and I have no fucking clue what to do!"

Jack expected her to tell him to calm down. But she didn't. She let him rant on.

"It's not like it's anything new." His hands curled into fists as he spoke. "My head has been fucked since before the bombs dropped. It's just… different now, I guess. My t-thoughts are irrational, it's too much."

He wasn't even sure if what he was saying made sense. But his thoughts didn't make any sense either.

"When the hell did this start, Jack?" his companion asked as she stood up, facing him.

"I don't know! I don't fucking know," he said in response. "My head has been nothing but absolute chaos for some time now. I've been plagued by my fucking intrusive thoughts more so than ever, and I… I just don't want to deal with it anymore!"

Leaving this world isn't as scary as it sounds, I hope you know.

He let out a shaky breath. The exhaustion that he had been carrying for so long finally swept over him. "I never wanted any of this, Piper. Look, I just want to go home, okay? I'm sick of everything. I'm sick of my mind telling me that I'm not a good person. I'm sick of failing every. Single. Goddamn time."

"Blue, if you're not feeling well… not feeling entirely okay, maybe you should rest?" she told him, standing up to join him. "Some things work out best when you don't try so hard. No matter who you are, bearing too much weight… inevitably leads to the collapse of everything."

Jack turned around to face her, eyes locking with his companion. "Don't you get it? I can't rest! I have people counting on me! I can't stop and take a break."

"Blue—"

"You know what's even worse? It's me they're counting on," he began to rant again, all that pent-up anger finally coming out in the form of hostile and self-destructive words. Knowing oneself means acknowledging one's actions. "I have so much blood on my damn hands! They look up to a killer!"

"Jack, we've already gone through this!"

He shook his head, approaching a mirror that was hanging on the wall. "It doesn't matter what the hell you say. Nothing is going to change the fact that I'm a goddamn murderer," Jack replied, turning slightly so he could see Piper. "I've tried, dammit, I've tried to convince myself that I'm not such a bad person. But every time, every fucking time, I come up with another reason that I'm not as great as everyone thinks I am."

"Come on, that's not true."

Jack turned towards the mirror again, grimacing at himself. Endless nights filled with whiskey and a sharp blade could be seen in the form of bags under his hazy blue eyes. He was so goddamn tired. Not just physically, but mentally, too. Since he left the vault, he had to put up with failure after failure. Jack had put so much damn effort into finding his son, and for what? Shaun was the leader of the Institute now. All of his work, for absolutely nothing. Just… failure. All he was now was a pathetic excuse for a general. Just some blood-thirsty merc with a bad attitude, it seemed.

No, it was true. He wasn't worth being held up on a pedestal like he was by the wastelanders. Hell, he never was.

He couldn't look at himself in the mirror anymore. With a swift fist, he easily broke the mirror. "I hate who I am, Piper!" he exclaimed as the shattered glass of what was once a mirror fell to the ground. Tears threatened to spill over as he said, "You deserve a friend who has their fucking head on straight."

He heard his companion's swift footsteps behind him. Piper grabbed his shoulder and turned him around, grabbing the folds of his coat and bringing him so close to her face he thought their noses would touch. Her emerald eyes pierced his own, sending chills down his spine.

Jack could hear the frustration and venom in her voice as she said, "I swear to God, Jackson, you need to have fucking faith in yourself. Nobody gives a shit what you've done, or who you've killed, or… whatever! You're… you're you, Jack!" she exclaimed. Her eyes had begun to water up, and she wiped a stray tear from her face as she continued. "Your past doesn't define you, Jack. What matters is that you are taking a big fucking step towards something nobody else would ever even dream about doing. You are doing what most people wouldn't even think of doing! You are changing this world for the better. And… and I want you to know that."

She let go of her companion, rubbing her eye, while Jack just stood there, staring at her. His words seemed to fail him.

Looks like I've got something to think about.

Yeah, yeah, save it. She got super close to you, blah blah blah. Once you get attached to someone, you know you're fucked. Jack just wiped the remainder of the tears from his eyes.

All of a sudden, the sound of shouting followed by gunfire came from outside of the church. Jack could hear the ghouls that were outside of the door groaning in pain, and their tortured screams as they died.

"Sounds like our ride is here," Piper pointed out, her voice still slightly shaky and wobbly.

Jack shook his head, grabbing his bag and weapons as Piper did the same. Preston barged through the door, a relieved smile on his face.

"Oh, thank God. You two are alright," Preston said, resting his laser musket on his shoulder.

"What took you so long?" Jack asked as he slung his bag over his shoulders.

"We were over at Sunshine Tidings Co-Op, taking care of a synth attack," the Minuteman explained. "We saw your flare when we were making rounds, making sure everyone was alright, and we came as quick as we could."

The two thanked Preston, heading outside of the church and stepping over the dead feral ghouls. Within a few moments of the two stepping outside for the first time in what seemed like forever, a vertibird landed in front of the three and the other Minutemen.

"When the hell did you guys get a vertibird?" Piper asked. "Last time I checked, you guys didn't have much fire power."

"The Brotherhood," Preston answered. "After a negotiation, they allowed us to borrow some of their fire power in return for the holotape Jack got while he was in the Institute, as well as our help in the fight against them. Anyways, let's head back to Sanctuary, yeah?"

The two nodded, boarding the aircraft. Jack had had enough of this church for one day.