River left the truck stop under Codsworth's meticulous care. After beseeching MacCready to keep her safe - Quit worrying, Codsworth, you're gonna blow a fuse or something. - the Mr. Handy waved them off, voice high and chipper at the prospect of somewhere new to look after.

They walked in a comfortable, if pointed silence; it felt too safe and familiar to break, though she could feel his gaze on her back. The warmth of his arms lingered on in her like a flame, the gruff reluctance with which he'd let her go early this morning. It was a heat she could easily grow to depend on, in a world like this one. She wondered what, if anything, he wanted from her in return.

"So are you ever gonna ask me, or are you just gonna keep staring?" She glanced at him over her shoulder, catching his eyes on her hair as she'd suspected.

MacCready shrugged, unrepentant. "Probably just keep staring."

Her lips tipped up into a devious smile. "I won't tell you, then. If only to keep you interested."

He looked away, chuckling under his breath. "Whatever you say, River." It was unfair the things his voice did to her name, twisted the two syllables into something sinful and secret, made her greedy and feverish for more. And it was always River now, never boss, and she wondered if it was a conscious transition he'd made or something that just happened naturally. She certainly didn't feel like his boss anymore, at least not in any official way - she'd be lying if she said she hadn't entertained thoughts of bossing him around under other circumstances. She adored his lazy defiance, the sharp bite of his wit, amusing, tempting little pieces of him she wanted to watch crumble into a mess of boneless pleasure.

She'd promised him patience. It wasn't a virtue she had much of, but she liked MacCready - grumpy, unwitting MacCready who was unwinding all of the hurt and the shame and weaving himself into the breaks they left behind. The world had fucked him over time and time again and she refused to make his life any harder than it needed to be - even if it killed her, even as she ached and burned and dreamed of his hands on her skin, she'd suffer in that flame forever before she pushed him into anything. He wasn't just the man who haunted her dreams, he was the best friend she had out in this shithole of a world and that meant more than the stubborn, insatiable hunger that gnawed at the pit of her belly.

They walked for miles as the sun inched across the sky above them. River prattled on to fill the silence about anything that struck her mind, wondering every now and then if she wasn't bothering him, but whenever she was quiet for more than a few minutes, he would throw out a question to get her started again. She spoke of her hobbies, her job, old flings and adventures, back when she was still riding the freedom of her youth. Occasionally he laughed, or teased her, his tone more fond than anything else, but mostly he just listened, probing with further questions whenever he couldn't hold back his curiosity any longer.

By the time they decided to find a place to rest, MacCready probably could've penned a short biography of her pre-war life if he cared to, could've even thrown in a few self-deprecating quotes straight from the source in defense of some of her more foolish mishaps. He knelt down to take a look at the boathouse they were approaching through his scope.

"Bloodbugs," he reported dismissively.

River tried to tame the scowl that darkened her expression.

Too late; he laughed. "What's that look for?"

"I hate bloodbugs," she admitted in a quiet voice. "I remember when bugs used to be smaller than me."

"Not much smaller than you out here anymore." He put a comforting hand on her knee and grinned up at her. "Stand aside, little lady. I'll handle the big, mean bloodbugs."

She smiled, watching in interest as he picked them off one by one. His hands were never more certain than when they were wrapped around that rifle; there was an easy confidence there, the arrogance that was as much a part of him as the grief they shared. He sank every shot, like he knew he would, and she barely restrained a sigh when she felt the responding heat like tension in her gut. Yeah, body, I get it. We're pickin' up what he's puttin' down. Let's just add sniping-every-enemy-that-stands-in-my-way to the list of things that turn me on, and we can all get along with our day.

MacCready got to his feet, reloading his rifle with practiced ease. She wished his hands weren't so distracting. "There's probably a few more inside I can't see."

"Well, we can test out the new toy Sturges sent me off with." She pulled the shotgun from her bag, beaming in excitement.

MacCready eyed the weapon warily. "Should I even ask?"

"From what he told me, this thing should speak for itself. Also, I would suggest staying behind me. Like way behind me."

He trailed a cautious few paces back as they neared the boathouse. A wraparound dock hugged the perimeter of the building, and a covered garage that opened up to the water. The incessant buzz of bloodbug wings hit her ears when she yanked open the front door. She aimed the shotgun at the bug floating there in the living room. Pulling the trigger launched an explosive round at the bloodbug that shredded it into pieces, leaving viscera and scorch marks behind and launching River backwards into MacCready.

"Holy shit!" she gasped as he steadied her, her ears ringing from the deafening blast. Two more bloodbugs came flying down the staircase and she blasted them both with one last booming shot. Her shoulder was definitely going to bruise, and her hearing would probably never be as good as it used to be, but the place was cleared, and they had a safe place to rest for a while.

The roof of the house had mostly been blown away, so they curled up together in the kitchen downstairs, sharing a can of water and a Nuka Cola, the radio piping out softly from River's Pip-Boy.

"Med-Tek shouldn't be much farther," MacCready said, casting his eyes around the room. "I remember this place."

"You've been there before?"

He nodded, tracing the rim of the cola bottle with his thumb. "Twice. Both times, the ferals chased me off." His hand found hers between them and curled around the slender column of her wrist. "Half of me still feels crazy for even bringing you out here."

"Hey." River pressed her fingertips to the line of his jaw, felt the tension there beneath his skin. "You and me together are a force to be reckoned with. Nobody who stood in our way ever lived long enough to regret it." She smiled when he leaned into her touch. "Besides, you made me a promise."

"Meant it, too." His hand cradled hers, warm and rough, holding her palm to his face as he smirked. "Like a total chump."

"Lucky me." She hesitated, if only to savor the thrill of anticipation that ran through her. Kissing him was still so new - it made her feel alive and enamored, the long-lost, familiar excitement of her younger, foolhardier days. He buried a hand in her hair, running his fingers through the soft tresses and smiling at the pleased sigh it drew out of her. His mouth was rough when he kissed her, teeth and tongue too eager for tenderness, and his impatience stirred something heated and primal within her. His kisses were precious, captivating, she would hold every single one dear to her heart always, but pretty soon they were not going to be enough to sate the hungers they ignited.

"RJ," she breathed, her voice half pleading. His lips grew softer against hers, gentle, lingering kisses that pulled mercilessly at the strings of her heart. She shifted closer, her thighs parting around the slope of his leg.

He ducked his head against her shoulder, muffling a strangled laugh there. "Sorry. That's, uh . . . god, that's really nice. It's just been a while."

River curled up into the crook of his arm, where he cradled her against his side - a strange and satisfying sensation, finding a place where she fit perfectly after being lost for so long. "For you and me both." Her eyes slipped closed, and she couldn't help a smile when she felt his lips at the crown of her head. "This isn't really the right setting for that conversation."

"Probably not." He nuzzled his face into her throat, beard and stubble scraping sensitive skin, and she hadn't expected him to be so affectionate - like he'd missed touching as much as she'd missed being touched. One of his hands threaded into her hair, calloused fingertips dragging down the nape of her neck that made her shudder.

She scowled, trying to suppress another shiver. "You are making it very difficult to be good."

MacCready lifted his head, blinking in surprise. Then his mouth stretched into a triumphant grin, mischief in the blue of his eyes. "Oh, yeah?"

River laughed softly. "RJ, I haven't been fucked in two hundred years. That's a long time for a woman with needs like mine."

"Yeah," he agreed in a parched voice, on the edge of breathless, his normal sarcasm apparently disabled for the time being. "I, uh . . . I guess it would be."

She leaned in to press a kiss to the edge of his lips before rising to her feet. "Come on, handsome. Let's go get that cure."

And then MacCready gave her that look, the one that made her feel whole again, and she wanted to wrap herself up in the warmth of that gaze and stay there forever. He caught her hand and held onto it, tighter when she didn't pull away.

"You lead and I'll follow," River promised.

MacCready cleared out the ferals ambling aimlessly around the front of the research facility with swift, deliberate headshots. River wrinkled her nose in distaste as she stepped over their corpses. She could never bring herself to bother looting them - they gave her flashbacks to old zombie flicks that had given her nightmares. The less time she spent looking at them, the better.

"Hey," MacCready interjected hesitantly when she reached for the door, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck. "Hold on a sec?"

River paused, falling back at the resolved look on his face. "Of course. What's up?"

"Before we go in there. . . ." He sighed, his voice hard with frustration, seemed to be pulling each word out of himself with great difficulty. "The night I lost Lucy, we were holed up in a metro station, just until morning. We didn't know the place was infested with ferals." He spoke quietly, the raw and fragile confession of a man who was on a first-name basis with his demons. "They were on her before I could fire a shot. . . . ripped her apart right in front of me. Took everything I had to escape with Duncan in my arms."

Her fingers tightened around her rifle with white knuckles, breath shaky as if winded. Her blood went cold at the thought of what he'd been through, what he'd seen - what Kellogg's memories must have reminded him of. She thought back to the easy way he'd welcomed her into his arms last night, because he'd known from experience that's exactly what she'd needed - and she would hold him every night for the rest of their lives to make up for all the time he'd been alone. It was a reckless thought, batshit crazy if she was being honest, but overwhelming in its conviction.

MacCready met her gaze, the blue of his eyes dark and pleading, begging her to understand what he couldn't voice. "Just do me a favor and stay close." The request was hardly louder than a breath, heavy and frayed with pain, and a small part of her grew suddenly aware of the fact that she would burn the whole Commonwealth to the ground to keep him from hurting like this ever again.

River reached over to lace her fingers through his. "I'm not going anywhere," she promised him, giving his hand a squeeze. His thumb stroked the back of her hand, a brief, heady affection that made her melt. "Close is right where I like you."

He laughed, the sound short with disbelief, but it banished that heartbreaking sorrow from his eyes. "Surprise, surprise, River gets what she wants."

"And don't you forget it."

MacCready held the door open for her and they stepped into the dimly lit lobby, their footsteps ringing loudly around the empty room. Medical equipment and various debris littered the floor between them and a receptionist's desk. Over the desk was a faded sign, the letters rusted-over and hardly legible: MED-TEK RESEARCH.

"All right," he said, steeling himself with a determined breath. "Let's find that executive terminal. Sinclair said that's the only way we can override the facility's lockdown."

"Here." River reached into the side pocket of her bag and pulled out Kellogg's pistol. "Your sniper won't be much use in here."

MacCready weighed the gun in his hands, ran his thumb down the polished side and glanced up at her from under the brim of his hat. "You sure?"

"Absolutely."

They started their slow search through the building for the executive office. They passed an airlock that led deeper into the facility, sealed up tight from the lockdown. The stairs creaked under their feet when they climbed them to the second floor, where the distant sound of guttural hisses and groans made MacCready stop in the doorway. His first gunshot dropped the nearest ghoul, and the others quickly came lunging toward them. River kept them at bay with her shotgun long enough for MacCready to pick them off, until there was only the fading echoes of gunfire and their corpses, distended and fractured.

Part of the next floor up had fallen through, and MacCready gave River a boost before climbing up after her. The offices on this floor were clearly for the higher-ups - cushy chairs and big, fat desks in the middle of a wide stretch of plush carpet. "I think we're getting close," she murmured, sifting through the papers spread out over one of the desks.

"Never could have held a job in a place like this," he remarked off-handedly. "Doing the same thing day after day? No thanks."

River shrugged. "You made different kinds of sacrifices back then."

MacCready opened a door toward the end of the hallway and quickly took out the two ferals lurking inside. "I think this is it."

She rounded the desk to sit behind the terminal, and he passed her a folded up piece of paper from his breast pocket. She copied the series of numbers and letters into the terminal and breathed a sigh of relief when the it was accepted.

"I'm in," she said and MacCready pumped his fist. She deactivated the security lockdown and stepped away from the terminal.

"I can't believe that worked."

"Your luck had to change eventually, right?" she joked.

MacCready shot her a sidelong glance, something like a smile on his face. "I think it already did. Come on, we need to get down to the sub-level. That's where they should have stashed the cure."

They retraced their steps back down to the airlock. Their presence set off a turret on the other side, and MacCready pulled River out of the doorway just before the bullets came flying in their direction. When there was a break in the gunfire, he leaned out from behind cover to shoot the turret down.

The deeper parts of the building were more heavily infested with ferals. MacCready tried to keep them at a distance, but one of them slipped past him, diving straight for River. She rolled out of its reach and pulled at a nearby bookshelf, bringing it down onto the ghoul's outstretched body. Its arms clawed at her, even as its lower half remained trapped under the weight of the bookcase. River crawled out of the way and MacCready planted a bullet in the back of its head, filling the room finally with silence.

He helped her to her feet and wrapped an arm around her waist, burying his face in her hair. She trailed her fingertips gently down the curve of his throat, felt his pulse racing under his skin. Her lips planted kisses along his hairline and slowly the tension seemed to ease from his body.

The geiger counter in her Pip-Boy started to sound in warning, and they slowed only to take doses of rad-x before pressing on. The rooms were different down here - not offices, but cell blocks, with ghouls or skeletons locked inside. She pressed closer to MacCready's side and his hand rubbed soothingly at the small of her back.

Eventually they fought their way to a rickety elevator. The doors slid closed after the boarded and cast them into an ominous darkness. The walls rumbled around them, tiles shaking beneath their feet. MacCready passed her a handful of shotgun shells, watching with something like pride in his eyes as she reloaded.

Finally there was a light ding! and the elevator slowed to a stop. The doors opened again and they both recoiled at the powerful stench that hit them.

"Ugh, that's horrible," MacCready groaned, covering his mouth with his arm as River pulled her shirt up over her nose. "I think we're the first ones down here in a long time. The sooner we find that cure, the sooner we can get the heck out of here."

Her Pip-Boy ticked irritably in protest the further they ventured. River peeked around the corner this time and blasted the turret to pieces before they even set it off. The basement housed even more cell blocks, and she shuddered to think of the souls that had been held there against their will.

"This door won't open."

"I'll try the terminal." River cycled through the menus and activated the door control. It slid open and a glowing one stumbled out, swinging at MacCready with its arms. It snarled and snapped at him, and he fended it off with the back of his arm, the pistol falling from his hand and skittering across the floor.

River kicked the ghoul off of MacCready with a swing of her boot, stomping down hard on its jaw to keep it steady as she shot it in the chest. Blood and glowing viscera splashed back against her legs and hands, filling her with a cold wave of disgust. She pushed it down and turned to help MacCready up. "RJ. You okay?"

"I'm fine." He reached up to wipe a drop of blood from her cheek with his sleeve. "Thanks."

They stepped over the glowing corpse into a long laboratory. MacCready started shoving through drawers in the desks while River did a loop around the countertop. She pocketed a few stimpaks and med-x syringes, and then her eyes fell upon a short, red cylinder, and her heart soared at the little white letters that ran down the side: Med-Tek Prevent.

"RJ."

MacCready looked up into her eyes, then his gaze dropped to the object she was holding out to him in the palm of her hand. He reached out to pick up the medicine and erupted in laughter, edging toward hysterical with relief. "We did it . . . holy crap, we actually did it! We just gave Duncan a fighting chance to live." He pulled her into a crushing hug, ducking his forehead against hers. "River. I don't know how I'll ever be able to pay you back for this."

She hummed. "You still worried about balancing the books?"

"Always." His lips brushed hers, once, twice, lingered there just long enough to steal her breath.

"I meant it before. You don't owe me a thing."

MacCready shook his head. "Maybe one day I'll believe you."

He couldn't keep the grin off his face the whole way out of Med-Tek and back to the boathouse. He laughed when River complained about the goop and blood that stuck like cold sludge to her skin.

"Don't you laugh at me, RJ MacCready!"

"I'm sorry, I know it's disgusting," he said between chuckles. "You're just so cute when you're all worked up."

River wanted to scowl, but his easy smile was infectious. The man deserved what little peace he could get, even if it was at her expense. They walked down the path to the boathouse and River looked out across the calm waters, struck suddenly by a reckless whim. "Y'ever go skinny dipping before, RJ?"

MacCready turned, his eyes widening to the size of saucers when he saw her start to pull at the straps of her armor. "Uh, no. People don't really, uh, do that anymore. The rads, and . . . you know, mirelurks and all that."

She kicked out of her boots, leaving a trail of clothes and armor behind as she padded down the side of the house. "You'd better come keep me safe, then!" she called over her shoulder, sparing one last glance back at his dumbfounded expression before she disappeared around the corner.

MacCready shook himself from his stupor, flashes of River's skin playing over and over again like a song stuck in his head. He followed the sound of her giggles, her bare feet thumping over the wooden dock. He stumbled over her shirt, then a boot, a tattered, lacy bra that made his mouth feel suddenly so dry.

He found her at the edge of the dock, pale curves outlined against the dark waters around her. The silvery moonlight gave her hair an eerie glow, and somehow seeing her like this seemed right. She looked every bit the otherworldly entity she was, the woman who didn't belong, too smart and too pretty and too damn good for the world she woke up to.

River half turned, a smile playing at her lips. She hooked her fingers into the edges of her underwear and slid them down her hips, and fuck fuck fuck, she was somehow even more perfect than he'd imagined her. He didn't deserve River and probably never would, but if she wanted him, maybe he was selfish enough to let her have him.

She inhaled a deep breath, then took a running start and dove into the water in a graceful arc. MacCready watched the rippling water, didn't realize he was holding his breath until her head broke the surface and he let the air loose in a heavy sigh.

River busied herself with scrubbing the dirt and blood from her skin while MacCready shrugged out of his clothes. He left Kellogg's pistol tucked into his boot near the edge of the dock just in case, pulling his shirt up over his head. His hands hesitated at his belt, stomach twisting with anxious anticipation as he glanced over at River. She's fucking perfect, there's no way I'm gonna do this. He took in the smooth expanse of her skin, her body that he'd dreamt of touching every night since they met. He was pulling his belt loose before he could give it a second thought. Fuck yeah, I'm gonna do this.

The water was cold enough to chill the breath in his lungs. He surfaced with a gasp, teeth chattering. "F-fu-frack, it's freezing."

River drifted closer, her smile apologetic, hair pooled around her like a halo. "Yeah, that's kinda the downside of skinny dipping."

"W-what's the upside?" he demanded.

Her smile widened into a devious grin. "Keeping each other warm."

MacCready flinched when her fingertips grazed his arm, but chased instinctively after the heat of her touch. His hand wrapped around her wrist when she made to give him space, pressing her palm back to his arm in silent encouragement to continue. He felt her fingers trace the line of his bicep up to his shoulder, where her hands lingered. She dug her teeth into the plump curve of her bottom lip, a soft little mewl of appreciation in her throat.

From what MacCready had seen of Nate, he didn't seem like River's type - wasn't exactly Grognak-esque in stature, more scrawny than brawny, really. And yet her hands discovered the lines of his chest with a tender admiration nearing reverence, her fingertips gentle over old scars, star-shaped bullet wounds that painted constellations across his torso. Her fingers wound through his, guiding his hand to the curve of her waist. He felt her muscles flex under her skin as he traced the vertebra up the curve of her spine.

She was as good as begging him to touch her, and Jesus, he must have imagined this moment a thousand times. Her skin was impossibly soft, like he'd known she would be, too soft to be handled by hands as rough as his, but she whimpered in pleasure and arched eagerly into his touch. Each stroke of his fingers over her skin seemed to relieve some tension deep in the marrow of her bones, drew a new, fascinating little noise out of her that urged him on like a trance.

River trailed suckling kisses down the column of his neck, her voice throaty and starved against his skin. "Fuck, your hands feel so good."

MacCready groaned, feeling his cock twitch beneath the water, hard like he hadn't been in years. "Jesus, River." You're gonna make me come and you've barely even touched me.

"Sorry. I know. Sorry." She floated away from him, and his hands felt so cold, so empty without the weight of her between them. "Easy to get carried away with you."

"That's one way to put it," he grumbled, earning himself a knowing smile. He helped her knead the blood from her hair, interrupted by the occasional kiss to her neck and shoulders - now that he could touch her like this, he was going to have a very hard time keeping his hands to himself. Especially when River was anything but discouraging, giggling into her fingertips, squirming delightedly in response to his every touch.

When she finally deemed herself clean enough, she swam back to the dock. He watched the water run down the curves of her body in fascination, horribly tempted to lean her back and finally satisfy that small part of him, growing louder and more insistent, that wanted to feel her legs wrapped around his head.

They made the mad dash through the cold night air into the boathouse, laughing in hushed whispers. The excited smile lingered on River's face as they dressed, her cheeks flushed pink, and he tried not to stare, but he couldn't tear his eyes from the tempting stretch of her pale, flat stomach that peeked out from beneath her tank top.

MacCready built up a fire while she unrolled her sleeping bag. She crawled into the warmth of her bedroll with a yawn, scooting closer to rest her head on his thigh. His hand stroked the silk of her hair, heavy and damp with water. There was a long stretch of silence, just the sound of insects outside and the crackling fire, River's steady breathing stretched out beside him. Then her voice broke the quiet.

"Are you going to leave?"

He blinked down at her in shock, felt the torment in her eyes pierce him to the bone. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Now that you have the cure . . . that's the whole reason you came to the Commonwealth, right? You can take it home to your son and enjoy watching him grow up, like you should be."

"River. . . ." MacCready sighed. "Yeah, that's what brought me out here. And I miss Duncan like crazy, but . . ." He shook his head, laughing under his breath. "If you think I can leave you behind after what you've done for me - after what we've been through - what you mean to me. . . ." He trailed off with a noise of frustration. No one's ever cared for me like you do. Maybe it's stupid, but I can't bear to walk away from that.

She peered up at him, eyes wide and shining as if she could read his thoughts. Her fingers curled around his and she pressed her lips to his palm.

"We'll take the cure to Daisy. With her caravan contacts, she's the only one I trust to get it to Duncan in time. After that . . . I'm all yours."

River pushed up onto her elbows, reaching up to grab him by the shirt collar and pull him down into a kiss. "I like the sound of that," she murmured against his lips.

He laughed, and the sight of her smile moved something in him, brought parts of him back to life that he'd been sure were gone for good. "Somebody's got to keep an eye on you."