"Oh my god, sis, the two of you seriously... all by your... that is so cool!"
Piper facepalmed and sighed. "No, Nat," she said through nearly gritted teeth. "It's not cool. It's dangerous! Either one of us could have gotten killed out there, or even just seriously hurt!" Internally, she still nursed a fear that Blue had been seriously hurt — just in a way that physical checkups couldn't measure.
Nat's comeback was practically desperate. "But... nothing bad actually happened, right? So, it's okay."
"That's not the point. It's about what could have happened."
Nat sank into the sofa, slouching in mixed defeat and disregard. "You sound like a grown-up. Why go anywhere then, sis? Why do anything if you're scared of everything that might go wrong?"
Piper's teeth continued to grind, but she felt the heat of the argument subside in her — like a weapon spinning down and cooling off after firing. Her sister had a point.
The truth was, Piper enjoyed the thrill of a good risk. She was a journalist, after all; getting into trouble was part of the job.
But Nat was still so young — practically a child, barely entering her teens. She didn't know how to look after herself like an adult. Piper had learned to temper her hopeless romantic side with pragmatism and working knowledge.
"That's it, Nat," she stated coldly. "No more stories tonight. I've already said too much, apparently."
They barely made eye contact, but the look of betrayal on her sister's face cut Piper to the bone. Without a word of protest or disagreement, Nat jumped off the couch and fled into her room, hiding behind the wall of cinderblocks where nobody would bother her.
Piper stood in the emptiness. She could feel the silence that had fallen out of their aborted conversation. Everything around her seemed somber — judging, almost.
She hated how much of a contradiction she became at times like these. Usually, she held Truth on the highest of pedestals. But with Nat, the prospect of sharing the truth was terrifying for her. She didn't feel like she could trust her sister with it. Most folks, most grown-ups, anyway, Piper felt like she could trust to draw their own conclusions.
But what if Nat's conclusions were wrong? What if she made an error in her judgement, refused to see how scary something really was? What if she got in trouble? What if she got hurt? What if she got—
Piper choked on her own imagined words. Even the thought was overwhelming. She couldn't be responsible for causing her own beloved sister pain. She'd do anything to protect her and hers. Even if it meant killing. Even if it meant lying.
She gave up. There wasn't going to be any reasoning with Nat that night. She turned and briefly paced across the room, seeking an escape. What would Blue do? What would she do if Blue were with her?
She would make tea.
Her old office seat. Everything about it was familiar to her. Sitting down in it was like greeting an old friend. She kicked back, as she liked to do, and tried to calm her mind. The tea she'd brewed was still too hot to drink. She needed something else to distact her.
She caught her hands reaching for a pack of cigarettes. The temptation was strong. Disturbingly strong. She closed her eyes and focused her thoughts on Blue. It had been her idea for her to give it up, after all. Her request. How could Piper not do this for her friend?
She grabbed the pack and tossed it in the nearby garbage bin — not that it necessarily made a major difference, being in a desk or in a trash can. She'd scavenged a smoke from less sanitary places in the past. Still, there was something symbolic to the gesture. It was another day's painful victory over her old, acquired vice.
She leaned forward and reached to power up her terminal. Lines of incoherent text flashed across the screen. All part of the mystical "boot-up" process. Piper quietly marveled at how anybody could have ever built anything as complex as a computer.
It would still take another minute or two for the terminal to finish loading. So, to pass the time, she reached into her pack and pulled out every note on Blue she had. Her handwriting could stand to be better, and it saddened her to know it. She was trying to create a professional newspaper, after all, not a bunch of half-scrawled notes to the populace of Diamond City.
She was about to give the tea a sip, when she heard her sister's voice call out to her. It was quiet, timid even.
"Hey, Piper?"
She set the mug back down on her desk and went downstairs, taking a moment's pause before stepping past the cinderblock wall. Nat's so-called room didn't even have a door; the least she could do out of respect was try to wait for permission before she entered.
Nat was sitting beside her sleeping bag, scribbling on the floor in chalk. Piper knelt down next to her. "What's up, kiddo?"
She didn't look up from her drawing.
"I'm... I'm sorry. If I scare you, sis. You shouldn't have to worry about me, on top of everything else."
Of all the things to feel that night, Piper had not expected to feel her heart melt.
"Oh Natalie... come over here." She leaned forward and pulled her sister into a hug. Nat resisted at first, but ultimately caved. They held each other for a long time.
This was the hug Piper had needed. The hug that she had almost tried to share with Blue, before she'd left for bed. Almost.
They didn't say anything after they let go. They didn't need to — sibling love had a way of transcending words. Quiet, happy, Piper headed back upstairs. Her tea would certainly be ready by now, as would her terminal.
And she was ready, too.