Letters from Home

MacCready practically launched himself from the couch at Daisy, who was holding out a battered envelope. She braced herself for impact, but the young sniper stopped short, the excitement of a kid at Christmas radiating from every inch of his spare form. Daisy rasped a low laugh, handing him the letter, "A courier just came in, and I asked KL-E-0 to watch the shopfront for a moment so I could bring this to you without delay." She exclaimed in surprise when she was suddenly picked up in the giddy twirl of a hug.

"Thanks, Daisy, you're the absolute best!"

"Anytime, MacCready. Though," and she went thoughtful, "He mentioned that the couple who gave it to him looked like they were all packed up?" She and my partner exchanged perplexed glances. "Maybe that's explained in the letter." This time, she gave me a significant look when his attention was taken by the envelope. It was a look that said, be there for him, just in case. I nodded and she relaxed. "All right, dear, I've done my good deed for the day. I'll be back at the shop if you need anything."

"Thanks again!" we chorused as my companion returned to sit next to me on the couch. The envelope was tattered and discolored with old stains, and quite thin. On the front were the words "MacCready, Goodneighbor, The Commonwealth" marked in hasty, uneven letters. There was no return address. Carefully, but as quickly as he could, he opened the envelope and unfolded the letter inside. A small additional scrap of paper fluttered out, and with amazing reflexes he caught it deftly, tucking it behind the main letter. I watched his eyes as they read the few words on the page, then re-read them again, and again. A joyously happy, love-struck smile crossed his face, and he dabbed at his cheeks which glistened with sudden tears. He handed me the letter, turning his curious attention to the small scrap of paper.

"Hi Daddy!

Pop-pop gave me that stuff you sent.

I'm all better now.

I love you, daddy!

Duncan"

The handwriting was that of a small child, but quite legible and extremely heartwarming to read. I had to dab at the moisture in my own eyes. But before I could hand the letter back, the small scrap of paper drifted down to land face up on top of Duncan's loving scrawl.

"It worked. Thanks.

Goodbye."

Incredulous, I looked up to meet the hooded expression of my partner. The smile had faded, and his blue eyes were shadowed with pain. "That's it?!" I demanded, furious. "That's all they had to say? You found the cure for your son! After all you went through, all you suffered? Four whole words?" My hands holding Duncan's letter shook, and I very carefully and deliberately folded it back up and tucked it into MacCready's front duster pocket, his haunted gaze following my every move.

His voice when he spoke was broken. "What the courier told Daisy? It makes sense now... they've moved. I don't know where. The cure worked, but I'll never see my son again." For only the second time in all the months we'd been together, MacCready wept. I held him close as he clutched at my shoulders, his face buried in the curve of my neck. "I was hoping... I had asked... in my letter... asked if I could come home... be a father to my son." He broke off with an agonized moan of grief. "I knew I couldn't go back... but I thought maybe... if the cure worked... I had hoped they'd let me see Duncan again. I miss him so much... Oh, my son..."

Slowly, I leaned back against the cushioned arm of the couch, cradling MacCready against me as he mourned the shattered hope to see his son, his only family, again. How cruel were his in-laws to have cut this poor man out of their lives so harshly, so thoroughly. He had risked life and limb coming back to the Commonwealth, knowing his old Gunner squad was not going to forgive his return. Trying to get the cure on his own nearly killed him, yet he persevered and finally succeeded with my help. And his in-laws still turned a blind eye to all of it, ignoring his successful promise to be a better person for his son. There was nothing much I could say, but I could offer my presence, my loving support. I brushed my fingers though his hair, gently stroking his temples as he wept, clinging to me with desperate strength. "I'm here, RJ, I've got you. Just let it all out, it's okay," I murmured over and over, a soothing refrain for his battered psyche.

Eventually, the grieving young man drifted into a fitful sleep, still clutching me tenaciously. Dozing in a chair for a week didn't have the same restful benefits as an actual bed, and it had finally caught up with him. Letting him rest, I took the time to think, watching his breathing, his face more relaxed, though still showing the effects of his heartbreak. He's so strong, I thought, but even the strongest person can be broken. Taking away his son... that would shatter just about anyone, even though he had already known he couldn't go back. He was still clinging on to the hope of redemption, I guess. I sighed, and MacCready snuggled closer in an unconscious response. At least we know Duncan is cured. A bitter consolation compared to actually seeing him hale and healthy, to be sure, but it's something RJ can keep close to his heart. He saved his son's life.

I let my thoughts wander, listening to the gradual rise of noise coming from the main bar area. When Magnolia began her first set a little later, MacCready startled awake. He looked around in confusion for only a moment before rubbing his eyes and lifting his head to give me a sad half-smile that wrenched me to my core. "Thanks, angel," he said simply, making no move to sit up, and I felt a rush of love and affection towards him when he laid his head back down. "I feel a bit better now."

"Anytime, love." Stroking his hair again, I love his hair, it's so thick and straight, we relaxed into each other, listening to Magnolia sing.

After a few minutes, to my complete surprise, MacCready spoke tentatively, twining his fingers with mine, still cradled against my chest. "Can you teach me that song?"

"The one I sang for you, 'Race You to the Top of the Morning'?"

"Yeah." He buried his face into my jacket, the words muffled a little as he hesitated. "I think I'd like to learn it. Did you know Magnolia writes all her own songs? She says they tell the story of her life, and she relives all the important stuff when she sings them. I can't write music at all, so maybe I can use the song you sang for me? It..." he broke off, cheeks coloring a little.

"It struck a chord with you? I understand. It's why I like to sing certain songs, too." I smiled at his shy nod. "I'd be honored to teach you, RJ."

"Thanks, angel," he murmured, just as Hancock strode in, a broad smile on his scarred face. MacCready looked up at this sudden intrusion, gazing steadily at the Ghoul with challenge written in his narrowed blue eyes. I tensed, feeling like we'd been caught doing something wrong.

Why should I feel that way? So we're together, it's nobody's business but ours.

And what about your partner? Sleeping with his clients can't be good for his reputation, or yours for that matter, which is one of the reasons you were keeping things quiet, dummy.

We're way past the client thing.

Yeah, but the average Wastelander doesn't know that. And they don't need to know.

"Ah-ha!" Hancock stopped halfway across the room from us, hands on his hips, taking in our nestled posture on the couch. "Heard you were in town. My favorite sniper and my favorite out-worlder, together at last! Looking cozy, you two. Maybe I should have given up being mayor and helped you myself, if this is what would have happened," he leered, making his way over to wedge himself into the end of the couch next to me as we scrambled upright to make room.

I was going to protest, defending our desire for privacy, but MacCready gave my arm a quick warning squeeze. Guess he's recovered enough for company. I'll follow his lead on this. "This just a social call, Hancock, or did you have something for us?" he asked, his cool emotional shield in full force. And yet, he draped his arm across my shoulders, fingers playing with the seam of my leather jacket.

"Now don't be like that, MacCready," Hancock soothed, rasping a chuckle. "I wanted to get the latest updates from your travels. All kinds of rumors go flying around the Commonwealth, and I pride myself on having the best information, getting it from the source if I can."

"All right, Hancock," I conceded, warmly wedged between the two of them. "You tell us what rumors you've heard, and we'll fill you in if we can."

"If you get us some drinks," MacCready added, giving my shoulder a squeeze. "We're both parched."

"Are you now?" came the salacious rejoinder. "I wonder why..." He laughed at my eye roll and MacCready's annoyed huff and went to the doorway just long enough to order drinks for all of us.

Settling in with our drinks, and later, a meal, we discussed the goings-on in the Commonwealth, trading our road stories for intel from those in the higher echelons of leadership. While Hancock was not on good terms with the mayor of Diamond City, he was remarkably well informed about the doings in greater Boston as a whole.

"Heard you've been clearing out some of the caravan routes in the city... and that you two disappeared for a week before showing up here." Black eyes met my dark green ones. "I was getting worried for a bit there, Sunshine. Even with MacCready guarding your back, you need to be careful."

I stiffened up. "It was my fault," I said in a low voice, closing my eyes. MacCready pulled me back against him supportively. "We got surprised by a group of raiders." Hancock's eyes went wide, looking from me to Mac and back again. Despite his teasing earlier, he seemed to be pretty accepting about our deepened relationship. Mac nodded against the back of my head.

"It's true, well the part about the raiders anyway." MacCready picked up the narrative. "They just about killed me, left me for dead, and were trying to cut her arm off, lengthwise, to get at her Pip-Boy." He tightened his embrace, a silent reminder of his promise to always be there for me. "They won't be kidnapping anyone ever again, but we needed some time to recover after that one."

Hancock whistled in sympathy, flicking his gaze to my forearm. At his mute query, I unlatched the device, turning my head away so as not to see the ruined flesh beneath.

"I dunno," the Ghoul mused after a moment, "if I'm anything to go by, scars are damn sexy. Wouldn't you agree, MacCready?"

To my complete and utter surprise, instead of answering, MacCready cupped my face in one hand, turning me around to kiss me fiercely, passionately, almost possessively. His other arm traced down my side to hold my waist. I leaned into his kiss hungrily, suddenly not caring whether or not Hancock was there anymore. A delighted chuckle accompanied our exhibition.

"Guess so. Well, if you two ever want a third..." Hancock laughed at MacCready's growl, rumbling from his chest into our locked lips. "I'll leave you kids alone."

As soon as our visitor had departed, we broke apart, the need for an ostentatious display over. Looking deeply into those crystal eyes, I could tell my partner was still emotionally struggling with the roller-coaster events of the day. "Why don't we head up to the Rexford?" I suggested. "I'm feeling decidedly anti-social tonight."

MacCready sighed in grateful agreement, taking my hand. "Let's go be scarce together."