"I still wish you'd let me stim you!"

Samantha didn't mind having to help Piper walk. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that her friend was clearly, actively, in pain.

"Blue, I'll be fine," she growled back through gritted teeth. "Just get us to the old hospital. We'll find stuff to get me patched up there."

She rolled her eyes. At least Piper wasn't wincing with every step, like she had been earlier. I guess that's a sign of some improvement? Even so, Sam couldn't help but feel like there was more she could have done. If she had gotten in the way of the mutant hound sooner. If their spots had been reversed...

But she was getting lost in possibilities. And Piper was right about one thing, at least — they only had so many stimpaks between them, and it would not be good if they ran out. Anything they could do to heal up without having to use one was worth the effort.

She shifted her arm, making sure it still had a good grip around her friend. Walking side by side was nothing new for them, but not with Piper literally using her as a crutch. Still, she didn't mind being able to help. If anything, a little closeness was welcome after the shock of that first fight.

And so they hobbled along, together. Sam had a pretty good sense where she was going — Boston was far from new to her, after all — though there were only so many landmarks left for her to go on. Her Pip-Boy's roadmap helped for double-checking.

Piper heaved a short laugh as they went. "I ever tell you, about this one time? Nick got busted up, so bad, that both his legs..."

"No more talk like that," Sam interrupted. "You're gonna be okay."

They marched on, up city blocks that felt like marathon tracks. Sam was just grateful that no one else attacked them on their way. They rounded a corner, and it came into view.

Sam remembered this old medical center. It looked to be in pretty sorry shape, just like everything else these days. The doorway in was a little tough to get through with Piper leaning on her, but they did their best together to make it work.

They looked around. The inside was in shambles.

"Oh yeah, Piper," Sam said coarsely. "Quality establishment, this is!"

She felt bad as soon as she finished making the smart remark. Surprisingly, the reporter laughed, and played along. "Ain't it though? What'd I tell ya, Blue!"

They made their way over to an intact seat. Sam eased Piper down into it. "You stay here," she said. "I'll go fetch the doctor."

Piper sighed from the chance to rest, and Sam went off looking for supplies. She turned trays upside down and med kits inside out. She looked for bandages, clean cloth, antiseptic, anything. Of course there was nothing left. This whole place would have been a gold mine for survival.

She day-dreamt as she searched. The disarray this place must have been in when the bombs fell. She imagined everything going wrong at once — the shockwave, the blackout, the panicked screams. Everyone rushing to help everyone else, without even understanding what had happened to the world outside.

She managed to find a clean roll of gauze and some alcohol. This is ridiculous, she thought. One stimpak, and none of this would have been necessary. Stimpaks were more precious than she'd allowed herself to realize.

And her friend was proving a whole lot tougher than she'd thought.


"To tell you the truth, Blue? I've always hated doctors taking care of me."

"Well, you're in luck then, because I'm certainly no doctor! Now, can you lift you leg?"

She could, and did, but it clearly hurt for her to do so. Sam braced the leg on her shoulder, and worked on exposing the wound. Most of the bleeding had been sopped up by the woman's pant leg.

They exchanged glances, and Sam poured out the alcohol over the bite marks, dripping onto the floor.

Piper's gaze made contact with the ceiling. Her body tensed. Her expression froze. But she didn't frown. She didn't even groan. Tougher than I thought, indeed.

Sam tore open the package of cloth and bandaged the wound as best she could. She lowered her friend's leg gently to the ground.

Piper breathed again, easing her way through the pain. "Blue..."

Her hand lingered on the reporter's ankle. Their eyes met.

"Thanks, for looking out for me."

Something shifted slightly in Samantha's heart — something she couldn't track, or get an angle on.

The feeling left as quickly as it came, and she snapped out of the moment's pause. She smiled, and told her friend to rest. Piper smiled back, and allowed her eyes to close.

Sam sat on the floor next to her and held watch. She had no sense for how often a given place got raided. Was she right to be keeping such a careful vigil? Was she being overcautious? She considered poking Piper for advice, but for all she knew, the reporter could already be drifting into sleep. Even a short nap will help, Sam told herself.

She looked up at her friend — eyes closed, half smiling, half wincing. It would take longer for this kind of aid to settle in, but if she was so determined to preserve their supply of stims, so be it. They were sure to get into far worse fights than this, once they were actually in the thick of trying to break Nick free.

There could be no doubt — Sam was going to have to learn to be a fighter. She glanced to Piper's pistol for a moment, but felt her stomach drop, and looked away.

She reached into her pack and pulled out a molotov, setting it down between her legs. Her trusty swatter rested against the seat, ready at a moment's notice.

She'd find a way to make it work. She always had so far.