Those who cling to worthless idols-
"Is she still in there?"
turn away from God's love for them.
"Maybe she's hurt?"
"Think we should pull her out?"
But I, with shouts of grateful praise,
"Preston! How do you get one of these things open?"
will sacrifice to you. What I have vowed I will make good.
"Just give her a moment, will you?"
I will say that Salvation comes from the Lord.
It was in the dark, suffocating depths of her X-01 power suit that Jennifer found the most peace. With the voices fading to a low murmur, the sound of her ragged breathing gradually expanded to fill what little space there was. A trickle of sweat dripped out of her matted hair and moved inexorably downwards, tickling her nose as it went. The tangy taste of salt mixed with the blood from where she'd bitten deep into her tongue.
Only here, hidden behind two tons of steel, did she allow her shoulders to sag. Every inch of her body ached and groaned its own complaints, but her shoulders sobbed in relief. For a short while, they could slump under the weight of her responsibilities. They were free to quiver when she thought of her baby boy, lost to Hell. They shook uncontrollably when the image of John's frozen corpse forced its way into her head.
"General?"
She straightened up at the sound of Preston's voice. Her time was almost up. The suit's twin fusion cores had finished cooling five minutes ago, and nervous chatter from the outside world was starting to seep into her suit.
Shoulders up. Chin straight. She tried to picture John in all his martial splendor, the day before he left for Anchorage. He was every bit the professional soldier, the kind of man they'd make movies on. The perfect General, only he was dead.
"That's enough! Get her out of there!"
"With what?" Preston's voice was two octaves higher than normal. "A wrench?"
"Anybody have a wrench?"
Chin up, Pineapple. People need you.
They needed you, John. She hit the release mechanism. But they'll have to make do with me instead.
The bubble of anticipation, building from the moment the monster was downed, was near bursting point when the General crawled out of her power armor. A few of the younger, more excitable soldiers let out premature whoops and cheers as she took a moment to straighten her hair. Preston offered her a can of purified water; she downed half and poured the rest on her head. Dozens of Minutemen watched her impromptu shower with bated breath.
She was a short, skinny woman. Beside her massive power armor, she looked tiny, more like a child than a fully grown woman. And yet, as she surveyed her army, men and women straightened up and stood at attention. Nearly a hundred eyes watched her measured climb to the top of the massive corpse. Only when she finally reached the top, her bare feet digging into Swan's ear, did they erupt into full applause.
They'll want a speech. The sun was just starting to peek over the Boston skyline, bathing her in red-orange light. A cool morning breeze caught the Minuteman flag jammed into Swan's bicep, setting it aflutter in all its glory. Even she could sense the importance of this moment.
The faces looking back at her were all horribly young. They did their best to hide it behind layers of dirt and grime, behind grim expressions and crossed arms. But two years in the wasteland had trained her to see them for the boys and girls they were. In her time, she might have hired some of them to mow her lawn, maybe even babysit Shaun. None of them had any business carrying weapons or applying tourniquets.
The speech she'd planned in her head was one of bravery and sacrifice. Four men had given up their lives to take down the beast. Preston had told her their names, the bodies already on their final journey back to the Castle. She would dedicate this victory to their memory, speak a few words of encouragement. Both Preston and Dyson had reassured her that her presence was more than enough. The crowd assembled before her wouldn't know a good speech from a bad one; all they needed was a little hope.
"I'm sorry." The words came out in a jumble, shoving each other out of the way as they poured out of her mouth. In the corner of her eye, Dyson threw up his hands; she was going off-script from the first word.
"I'm sorry for everything that's happened. To you. To me. To this God-forsaken world. We blew ourselves to kingdom come and left you behind to suffer."
At first, she spoke out of fear. The dreaded silence that would follow her speech, the awkward looks the soldiers would give each other. Dyson and Preston scratching their heads and wondering if she'd finally lost her mind.
But as the words kept flowing, Jennifer felt the weight of the world begin to come off her shoulders. Her voice grew stronger as she spoke, drawing the attention of every Minuteman in attendance.
"You didn't deserve this. I didn't deserve this." Here her voice cracked and wavered, but only for a moment. "We may have come from different worlds, but we've all suffered. We've been forced to scratch and scrape our way to the top."
She grabbed the flagpole and jammed it further into Swan's arm. Black blood spurted out of the dead creature as a cheer tore free from hoarse throats.
"None of us will live to see America restored. None of you would even know what that means." Her smile was hollow and yet she saw genuine, vibrant reflections on nearly a hundred faces. All that mattered to them was their General, standing tall and proud on the corpse of an unkillable beast.
"All that's left for us is to strike back." She accentuated every word with a stab into Swan's body. "To reach out and take a little bit of hell with us, leaving the world a better place."
A second, louder cheer erupted from her audience. Jennifer hopped off the body and was immediately swarmed. Grubby hands met hers in handshake after handshake, eager faces jumping to the front of the rapidly forming queue. By the time she'd managed to extract herself from the crowd, nearly every Minuteman had managed to brush her hair or pat her on the back.
Just to convince themselves that she was real, that this newfound hope wasn't just something their radiation-addled minds had cooked up.
"I think the men liked your speech, General." Dyson's wry smile was a welcome sight, the bottle of water in his hands even more so.
"I don't remember General Becker ever getting this much applause." Preston shrugged. "But things were different back then."
"We've killed the unkillable. Again." Jennifer trickled the last of the water into her hair. "And now for the party."
"Diamond City?"
"The Combat Zone is much closer." Dyson noted. "And I'm sure Tommy would be more than willing to host us."
"Diamond City is fine." Jennifer's answer was unusually sharp. "We'll bring out the Nuka-Cola and liven the place up a little. A few Christmas lights will do wonders for the atmosphere."
"Christmas lights?" Jennifer couldn't help but smile at the look on Preston's face. Just moments ago, she'd been exhausted to the point of collapse; now she felt giddy and light-headed.
"Oh Preston." Her eyes sparkled. "You'll love it. We'll even try searching for a Christmas tree this time."
"You know, I've been thinking." He nodded in the direction of the Common. "We could probably clean that place up in no time, make it livable."
Jennifer's face fell, but Dyson was the first to speak.
"Diamond City's got a lot of problems, but atleast it's got the Wall. Nobody's going to move there."
"I thought we could work on restoring it. Make it a park again."
"A park?"
"Yeah, like a..." Park. She swallowed hard. The memories came in a flood, overunning the defenses she'd built up over the last two years.
"He'll never accept this."
"What? That you're going out with the star running back? You know how I know when to wake up for class?"
"How?"
"I don't set an alarm."
"Just tell me!" She reached over to tweak his nose.
"Girls start knocking on my window, asking me to walk with them to class."
"Really?"
"And there's no snooze button on them either. One time I had to crawl under my bed so I could sleep through calculus."
"You didn't!"
"Yeah, I heard the class had like a 50% attendance that day. Professor actually cancelled the quiz. Kinda like a boycott, if you think about it."
"Bullshit."
"You swore!"
"You're a bad influence!" Giggling, she lay back in his arms. They took a moment to stare at the blue sky. Geese flew in perfect formation, heading South to escape the Winter cold. There was the faint, lingering scent of smoke in the air from the tailgate down the block. In an hour, John would be playing the biggest game of his life. His teammates were probably huddled in the locker rooms, going over their strategy for the hundredth time. Nervously glancing up at the clock and wondering where John Morrison was.
He's here. She thought, giddy with excitement. With me!
The park was empty, save for a couple of stragglers heading to the stadium. Few knew about the little alcove beneath the grand Oak tree. Knowledge of its existence was passed in hushed whispers among young, blushing couples. Generations of lovers had once occupied the same spot, whispering sweet nothings until one of them gained the courage to make a move.
"He'll disown me." She whispered into his arm, her heart pounding. "They'll never speak to me again."
"For dating? For getting married?"
"You don't understand. T-They don't like you."
"Why? Because I'm a Yank?"
"No, that's no-"
"The Civil War ended a hundred years ago..." He looked at her for confirmation.
"Yeah but-"
"You're an adult, I'm an adult. What can he do to stop us?"
"Will you let me finish?" She waited patiently as John drew a series of deep breaths. "You ok?"
"Yeah."
"He's very religious, my father. And he wants me to marry a good Christian."
"I could be a good Christian. What do I have to do?"
"It's not that simple."
"Jennifer, darling, it really is." He pulled her close. "We run away."
"What?"
"Not very far, I promise. We'll be living here in Boston."
"What do you mean?"
"I've bought us a house. In Sanctuary Hills."
She stared at him, mouth hanging open.
"And there's only one person I want to spend my life with." he tilted his head. "Well, maybe two people. Or three."
Jennifer hid her blush with his T-shirt, but he knew when she was flustered. Subconsciously, her leg rose until it was wrapped around him.
"We don't have to go through with this." He whispered, sensing they were reaching the point of no return. "I'd love you just the same."
"You might miss the game."
"I'd miss it. I'd miss anything if it meant spending more time with you."
She looked into his eyes, imprinting every little detail about him. The scar on his chin, the perfect eyebrows and strong jaw. The way his hair flopped down because it was too long and he only let his mother cut it. How his nose tilted slightly to the right, courtesy of a particularly aggressive defensive tackle from High School. If she woke up to realize it was all just a dream, she would, at the very least, remember this man.
Two hundred years later, the memory was just as vivid. She remembered the fine creases in his brow, that only appeared when he was genuinely nervous. The half-smile he always brought with him to calm people down when things got heated.
There was a growing warmth in her stomach when she recalled what happened next. A warmth that briefly flared up when she met Dyson's eyes, before dying out completely. Preston was in a heated conversation.
"-the same rules don't have to apply to Vault 81."
"According to who? If you're taking a Minuteman garrison, you'll be following Minuteman law."
"Chems and Alcohol are a natural part of our trade." Alexis Combes. The Vault 81 representative's lack of diplomacy was evenly balanced with his brute determination. Even with Swan's corpse rotting in the background, his attention was focused entirely on ramming his agenda through.
First on that list was getting rid of her ban on Chems and alcohol.
"The Overseer has already agreed to the terms of our agreement." Jennifer took a step forward. "She agrees that Chems and Alcohol are dangerous, and part of the reason why the Commonwealth is so dangerous."
"She was also promised that exceptions could be made."
"This is not one of them, I'm afraid." She tilted her head. "I know it will be hard to adjust in the short term. But given time, you'll find our protection is worth a lot more than the Devil's brew.
"The what?"
"It's not important." She nodded towards Swan's corpse. "We've got a lot of things to celebrate today. I hope you'll be able to join us in Diamond City for the party."
Combes, who'd undoubtedly been expecting an argument, was left open-mouthed for a moment. He nodded, then swallowed.
"It's really great what you did here, General." Ah! Diplomacy. Perhaps a tad too late, but she'd take it all the same.
"Appreciate it, Combes. Now Preston, let's get moving. I'd rather not spend all day smelling like dead Supermutant."
"Sure thing, General." He headed off, issuing commands as he went. Combes trailed behind him, perhaps unsure of where exactly he was supposed to be. That left Jennifer alone with Dyson, who was busy studying her face.
"Did I get some on me?" She joked, wiping at her cheeks. "This stuff doesn't come off easy, does it?"
"I hope you're alright, General."
"I'm fine. Perfect, in fact." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Why do you ask?"
"You were reckless during the fight. Charging him headfirst with the gatling laser was a risky move."
"It worked didn't it?"
"And if it hadn't? The Minutemen are hanging by a thread right now, General." He nodded at her. "You're that thread."
"I knew I wasn't in any danger. He was almost dead when I attacked."
"People are starting to believe you're unkillable. I hope you aren't taking that to heart."
"I'm fine." This wasn't the conversation she wanted to have. It was too much like the conversations she'd have with John, making him promise again and again not to do anything stupid in the military. And after the memory from the park, anything that reminded her of him felt like a knife to the chest. "Worry about the people who actually died."
"They can be replaced, General. You can't."
"When I die, someone will take my place." She shrugged. "Maybe it'll be you."
"Maybe." He clearly had a lot more he wanted to say, but Jennifer had already turned around.