Author's Note:

Okay guys, I actually had a fairly difficult time writing this one but I'm so pleased with how it turned out. Lareepqg, I tried to take your advice to heart when I was writing as Lydia. I hope this will bring you all a little closer to her. Please enjoy and let me know what you think! Love to all my readers!

P.S. I also went back and corrected a few typos I spotted in the previous chapters. I scour these chapters over and over again for errors before I post, but I do miss them occasionally. If you catch one please don't hesitate to send me a pm or something so I can fix it!

Chapter 14

Without You

"Just when I'm ready to throw in my hand

Just when the best things in life are gone

I look into your eyes

There's no smoke without fire

You're exactly who I want to be with

Without you

What would I do?"

Without You - David Bowie

Lydia stood over the gurney, staring down at Mac's bruised face. After discovering him lying unconscious in the alley, she had run to Amari for help. The two had carried Mac down into the doctor's lab where Amari had stimmed his broken nose and bruised ribs.

He had yet to awaken, however, and Lydia grew increasingly concerned as time ticked slowly by. Amari had said that he'd likely received a concussion, but was hopeful that the Stimpack she'd used on his face to mend his nose would repair any other damage he'd sustained to his head.

Please wake up, Mac, she thought to herself.

Even with the doctor's reassurances, Lydia was still scared. He looked better now, aside from the bruising, but her mind kept wandering back to how broken he'd looked when she'd found him. She paced the room, constantly glancing at Mac to check for any signs of movement.

Come on. Open your eyes!

Needing an outlet for her nervous energy, Lydia went to the sink to fill a basin with water so she could clean the dried blood from Mac's face. As the water ran, a memory flashed through her brain.

Her father, singing to her as she lay in bed. She'd been very young, ill with a high fever and unable to get comfortable enough to sleep. The only way he could get her to relax was by singing her favorite songs as he pressed a cool cloth to her forehead.

Lydia pulled over a stool and sat next to Mac's head. Dipping a rag into the pan of warm water, she began wiping the dried blood and grime from his face. They were alone in the room, Amari having gone to bed after she'd finished working on him. Feeling self-conscious in spite of the sleeping merc and otherwise empty room, she took a shaky breath and began to sing (for Mac or herself, she wasn't sure), anyway:

"Ground control to Major Tom

Ground control to Major Tom

Take your protein pills

And put your helmet on

Ground control to Major Tom

Commencing countdown

Engines on

Check ignition

And may God's love be with you…"

Lydia continued singing as tears came to her eyes and threatened to spill over. As she sat there tending to her fallen companion, she felt a new emotion rising in her chest. Different from the loving admiration she'd felt for her father. Different from the passing fondness she'd felt for her husband. Different from the motherly love she felt for her son. And different from the rage that had taken root within her since his kidnapping.

"...This is major Tom to ground control

I'm stepping through the door

And I'm floating

In the most peculiar way

And the stars look very different today…"

As she gazed upon Macs's face, she felt the hardness that she'd built up around her heart begin to crack and break away, a new sort of heat creeping in to fill the gaps. Images from the past few days flashed through her mind like a movie reel: the look of calm intensity in Mac's eyes as he aimed his rifle, the anger on his face as he shouted at Lydia for being careless, the softness of his gaze as he tended her wound, the drunken smile he'd given her when he'd spent her caps on booze. And then there was that smirk. The smirk that did fluttery things to her insides as she wondered what else those lips could do...how they'd feel under her own.

"...Though I'm past

One-hundred-thousand miles

I'm feeling very still

And I think my spaceship

Knows which way to go…"

Lydia's gaze moved to Mac's torso. He was naked from the waist up where Amari had stimmed his ribs. She watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest as her eyes traced the bruising that had blossomed over his lean muscles.

Please wake up, Mac. Please.

"...Can you hear me, Major Tom?

Can you hear me, Major Tom?

Can you…"

"I hear you, but 'Tom' still isn't my name," Mac spoke up.

"Jesus!" Lydia jumped, hot embarrassment flooding to her face at being caught singing. She stood too quickly, knocking over her stool and the basin of bloody water, both clattering to the floor.

"No, that's not it, either. Am I not the one with the head injury?" he smirked.

"You scared the shit out of me!" Lydia exclaimed.

Mac started to chuckle but it turned into a groan. "Ugh," he brought his hand up to his eyes, "my head kills."

"I've got something for that," Lydia said. She turned away, eager to hide her face and the embarrassment that was evident there. She took her time going to where she'd left her pack on the couch, pawing through its contents for a syringe of Med-X. When her cheeks felt cooler, she turned and went back to Mac. "You want to tell me what happened?" she asked as she put the needle into his arm and expended the medication.

"A message from my old buddy, Winlock," Mac said quietly.

"So I'm guessing your break-up with the Gunners wasn't as 'clean' as you said it was?"

Mac sighed. "They didn't want me taking anymore jobs in the Commonwealth. I'm sure this was a warning because I took up with you."

"Ah," Lydia nodded. The two were silent for a while. Lydia grabbed a mop from the corner and cleaned the water she'd spilt. She contemplated the choices she had before her, of which there were really only two.

One: she could fire Mac, leave him behind and go on about her business alone. She didn't need crazy mercenaries coming after her as she scoured the Commonwealth for her son. There were enough bad things out there without the added concern of trained killers on her heels. But that would leave her alone again, and did she really want that?

Two: she could help Mac take the fight to the Gunners, and cut the problem down at the source.

You want to help him, she admitted to herself. And it was true. He'd already saved her life twice (probably three times, if she counted her rage-induced blackout down in Vault 114) and she wanted to return the favor.

But it was about more than leveling the playing field. Lydia had always thought herself to be a solitary individual, but suddenly the thought of going on without MacCready started a panic rising within her. She couldn't believe how much things had changed in less than a week's time. A week ago, she hadn't wanted anyone with her, not even the dog that had been her first (brief) companion out in the wasteland. And now she was thinking of going into the lion's den so that she could keep her mercenary around.

Option number two it is.

"Alright," Lydia said aloud, her decision made. "We're going to wait a few days so the both of us can heal up, then we're taking this fight to them."

Mac's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Are you sure about that? I probably don't need to tell you how dangerous that's gonna be. I don't want to be responsible for anything happening to you before…" he trailed off, but Lydia knew what he meant.

"It's my decision," she said firmly. "We're doing this. Besides, we'll be fine. We make a pretty good team," she winked at him.

Mac put on a goofy smile. His eyes were glazing over as the Med-X kicked in. Lydia returned his smile, warmth spreading through her chest at the joy on his face.

"Get some rest," she told him. "Now that I know you're not actively dying, I can try getting some, too."

"Awe, you-ere worried 'bout me, Boss?" Mac prodded, his voice slurred from the drug.

"Of course I was," Lydia assured him. She went to the couch and lay down, positioning her pack behind her head as a makeshift pillow. "If you'd died, I'd have to hire someone else to carry my shit. I hardly have time to take applications, do interviews, background checks, drug testing. The hiring process is a bitch."

"I dunno...what yer talkin 'bout," Mac slurred around a yawn.

Lydia laughed. "I know. Go to sleep, Mac."

"Yes'm," he mumbled.

As the fear Lydia had been feeling over Mac's condition was replaced with relief, she was suddenly overcome with exhaustion. Closing her eyes, she soon fell asleep.

Mac woke up late the next day. Lydia had been gone when he'd woken, and Amari informed him that she was "running errands" and would be back later on. He spent the majority of the day pacing Amari's lab and stewing in his thoughts.

He was both anxious and apprehensive about taking on Winlock, Barnes, and their horde of Gunners. He also had mixed feelings about Lydia agreeing (insisting, really) on helping him. While Mac was grateful that she would even consider it, he was also terrified of her dying before she found her son. He didn't want to have that on his conscience along with everything else. Not to mention that the thought of Lydia dying twisted his insides up into some crazy feeling that he wasn't ready to acknowledge.

But he knew that there were no other options. That bastard, Sinclair, had robbed him of his meager savings after beating the piss out of him, preventing any sort of pay-off he may have hoped to achieve with Winlock. Which he doubted was even viable, anyway. He was also back to square one on saving for another gun-for-hire to take with him to Med-Tek.

And on top of all that, Sinclair had also taken Mac's rifle. Mac was maybe more upset about that than everything else combined. He'd had that rifle nearly his whole life. It had gotten him out of every jam he'd ever been in. He felt naked without it and it pissed him off. He hoped like hell that Sinclair was at Mass Pike when he and Lydia went. He was going to get his damned gun back and then he was going to use it to shoot Sinclair in his ugly face.

Lydia finally returned in the early evening. "How are you feeling?" she asked Mac as she entered the room.

Mac almost laughed. How was he feeling? Angry, anxious, guilty, worried, scared, and sick of his own whirlwind of thoughts. "Sore," he said, deciding to give the easiest answer.

Lydia nodded. "I guess so. Your face looks like shit, by the way," she said with a teasing smile.

"Yeah well, now we match," he motioned to her own face, cheek still bruised from her fight with Kellogg.

She laughed. "Fair enough. You ready to get out of here?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Mac nearly ran to grab his bag.