Conflicted

It had been one of the most awkward evenings I had ever lived through. As soon as Sturges and MacCready had laid eyes on each other, the tension crackled almost audibly. MacCready was too perceptive to not have guessed the topic of discussion, especially when Sturges hemmed and hawed his way through an awkward on-the-spot invitation to set the two of us up in the spare bedroom... with no linen... or pillows... or even a bedside table to hold my glasses. Knowing the rest of the settlement was full up, I had no other real choice but to agree with as much grace as I could muster.

Dinner was a brief reprieve from the emotional strain. MacCready and I retreated to the very back corner of the communal dining hall, lingering mutely over our meals of grilled radstag and stewed vegetables. When I tried to express thanks to my partner for securing such a tasty main course, he had shrugged indifferently, focusing on his tray. Nettled by his behavior, I slowed down to try and savor the rare meal that didn't cause me nausea. We sat there all evening, for all the world looking like two companions enjoying each others' company, yet locked in our own private mental fugues. When the hall closed for the night, we made our silent way back to Sturges' home, arriving to find a small pile of necessities piled on the freshly dusted bed for our use, and the door to the other bedroom shut tight.

Even when he's embarrassed all to hell, Sturges is still a true gentleman, I thought restlessly while I made the bed. MacCready dropped off our packs from the living room and went to use the facilities in the bathroom. Neither of us deserve his hospitality or his help. And yet, he's still cordial enough to open his home. He even had a damn suggestion of where I could find a power source! When the tension of MacCready's arrival had lessened enough to allow for conversation, I explained the latest developments in our search, forcing myself to ignore the bitter sulking of my companion.

"Huh," Sturges had remarked from the second couch, scratching his head thoughtfully. "Well, if it's power you need, have you tried looking for an old vault? Those things woulda had to have had a lot of power to keep people alive and safe after the bombs fell."

I had heard them mentioned many times in my travels, but was finally able to get the information I needed. Vaults were an invention by a company called "Vault-Tec" and were supposedly exclusive underground dwellings created to shield the residents inside and their descendants from the destruction of a nuclear holocaust.

"Are you crazy?" MacCready had burst out, finally breaking his brooding silence. "Vaults are insane! I grew up next to Vault 87 back in the day. Those are some seriously bad memories I wish I could forget."

Unfortunately, it appeared that almost all of the Vaults and their residents were victims of unknown and usually dangerous experiments created by the Vault-Tec scientists and whatever organizations they may have been working with. For example, the Vault MacCready had grown up next to was the source of a Super Mutant scourge plaguing the Capital Wasteland. Mac had been very reluctant to talk about his past, and only grudgingly told his story when directly pressed to do so.

The conversation hadn't improved much from that point. The best knowledge I could glean from my reluctant informants was that a vault might be a good place to look for a reliable source of substantial power, and that there was a vault somewhere to the south, and west of Diamond City, that occasionally traded with outsiders. MacCready was blatantly against the idea, and even Sturges advised caution.

"Vault dwellers are an odd bunch, even the 'normal' ones. If you do go look for them, just be careful. I'd hate to see anything bad happen to you." Sturges had held up his hands defensively when MacCready whipped his head around to glare at the mechanic. "Relax, MacCready. I worry about my friends, okay?"

By the time I finished my own evening ablutions in the bathroom, MacCready had already gotten in the bed, facing the far wall. He barely acknowledged when I slipped in next to him, but clutched my hand almost absently to his bony chest when I spooned into his back, tucking my arm around his warm body. "I'm sorry, RJ. I had no idea he felt that way... it just... I froze up!" I wailed quietly, muffling the sound into MacCready's shoulder blade as we lay stiffly together on the spare bed. I could feel his quickened heartbeat and the tension in his body through the palm splayed against his torso.

"Oddly enough," he finally said, very quietly, "I believe you."

Before I could relax, he continued, his voice coolly sullen. "As perceptive as you can be about spotting minute details in targets or terrain, you have an absolute talent for misreading people."

Stung, I pressed him. "What do you mean?"

He turned his head into the pillow. "I mean... geez, Boss! You were lecturing Maxson, the fanatical leader of the fuc- err, freaking Brotherhood of Steel about ethics?! I'm surprised he didn't toss you right off the flight deck of the Prydwen!" His voice was low, but intense. "Trusting Deacon wasn't exactly one of your shining moments, either. You keep looking for the good in people that just isn't there. I'm supposed to protect you, but there are times when you make my job damn difficult."

Boss? What the hell, he never calls me that in private anymore! "How? I ask your opinion constantly! I try to follow your advice as much as I can, but sometimes I have to follow my own instincts." And right now, my instincts are screaming at me that something is seriously wrong here, and I can't figure it out.

But MacCready had the bit in his teeth and he wasn't about to be derailed. "And how could you not notice that Sturges had a thing for you? Hell, I saw it as far back as Concord!"

"What? No way..." my feeble protest was cut off when he shook his head in anger, clutching my hand painfully tight. "Ouch! I didn't know, okay? You said you believed me. What is this really about, RJ?" At the sound of his name, he shifted restlessly, pulling away and freeing my hand. "Maybe I can't read people right, but I can tell something is bothering you right now." I caressed his side, gently moving up to massage his shoulder, but he didn't react. "Please, talk to me."

"Are you going to accept his offer?" The words were bitter, reluctantly drawn from his throat.

"No." And not just because I have to get home.

"Are you going to listen to me about the Vault?"

I hedged. "Do you think this Vault is going to be filled with Super Mutants?" We both know it's not. Apparently Vault 81 is populated by perfectly normal people who were just lucky their ancestors survived the dropping of the bombs.

"No. But that doesn't mean it's not dangerous." He sighed, a bitter growl escaping his throat. "Vault-Tec ran all kinds of experiments on their residents. We don't know what we'd be potentially walking in to."

"What other choice do I have?" I asked him, miserably. "I have to try, even if it's a dead end. I have to know. This is about getting back to my world, my family..." I pressed my face into his unresponsive shoulder, suddenly feeling very alone, and as scared as the day I arrived in the Commonwealth.

"Family is sacred," came the almost inaudible reply. "No one should ever try to separate someone from their family." A shudder ran through his lean body, and I held him close, trying to comfort him or myself I didn't know. He didn't pull away, but he also didn't relax; his breathing slightly ragged, the occasional tremor twitching across his limbs. He clutched my hand to his chest again, holding tight. In this knife-edge of emotional tension, we eventually drifted into restless slumber.

-0-

General Preston Garvey was pleased to see us when Sturges brought us to his office the next day. However, his pleasure at our arrival was soon dampened when we caught him up on the latest news from our journeys. "Damn it," he said, pounding a fist onto the map table marking all the Minutemen/Brotherhood protected settlements. "I wish I knew for sure what the Institute was up to! We're working too hard to rebuild settlements just to have it wiped away in some kind of mass experiment."

"I guess the silver lining for that," I interjected, trying to soften the news, "is that as long as the matter transmission relays are temporarily disabled, the powers that be down there are focused on getting their systems back up, not on forwarding their research. And with me on the loose as a rogue asset they can't ignore, the surface agents will be too busy tracking me down to really bother any of your settlers."

"Until they come here, guns blazing." Garvey mused, a frown on his face. "We've got some good defenses, but I'd rather not take on Institute Synths if we don't have to."

"Which is why," I said firmly, "we keep moving." I studied the map for a moment, tracing a line from Sanctuary to the supposed location of Vault 81. Across the table, I heard MacCready take in a sharp breath as if in protest. "We should have a few days before any hunting parties arrive, especially since we're pretty sure no one knows we're here. Our best intelligence has them searching downtown Boston."

"Yeah," MacCready snarked, finally speaking up, "Maybe they'll run into some Super Mutants and wipe each other out. I'd pay good caps to see that match-up." The humor was there, but this was the impersonal, cocky mercenary speaking, not my loving partner. I tried to meet his eyes, but he avoided looking in my direction.

"We need to keep them guessing," I finally said, giving up for the moment on trying to figure out why my companion was avoiding me. "I would like another day or two to get them good and frustrated before we start playing catch-me-if-you-can. They shouldn't come anywhere near Sanctuary once we get going."

"I suppose that scheme could work." Garvey joined me at the map. "If you're planning on heading down to look for Vault 81, we have a situation that's come up and could use your help..."

MacCready groaned sarcastically. "Really, Garvey? We're supposed to be staying clear of people. It's the whole point of "going dark" you know. And now you want us to traipse around helping settlements? You trying to get us killed?" He grumbled angrily at me. "Boss, it's your call in the end, but you should be hiding, not doing a settlement tour."

Well, at least he's talking to me, I sighed. "I'm sure General Garvey is aware of the seriousness of our situation, and wouldn't ask for our help unless it wasn't going to interfere with our own objectives." Even as I said this, MacCready's words from the night before echoed in my head, "I'm supposed to protect you, but there are times when you make my job damn difficult." I looked over at Preston for support, "Right, General?"

"Right, Sarge." Garvey flicked a glance towards the young sniper before returning his attention to the map on the table. "We've had troubles with our provisioners. While we get traders in occasionally, we've set up our own supply lines to transport food and raw materials between settlements." He pointed to a section of the map in our general line of proposed travel, placing a palm over the center of an unexplored area bordering several Minutemen colonies. "Something has been disrupting our caravans in this area. If you're going that way anyway, if you could look into what's causing it and if at all possible, take care of it, we'd be in your debt."

I raised an eyebrow at MacCready. "It's an unpopulated region. I suppose we can keep our eyes out for trouble."

My partner stumped over to the table. "A lot of 'ifs' there, Boss. Fine. 50 caps to go look. 100 caps for each target we have to take out, if it comes to that."

"MacCready!" I glared at him. What the hell is going on with him? Insisting on payment from the Brotherhood for work was one thing, but the Minutemen had always shared their supplies with us freely, and I'd never personally charged Garvey anything for our help.

"Ammo's expensive. So are stimpaks, Boss." He turned towards Preston. "What do you say?"

General Garvey's eyebrows rose in surprise. "We don't even know what, if anything is down there. I'm not going to pay you 100 caps each if it's a swarm of radroaches, you know." When MacCready would have argued, I spoke up.

"How about the 50 caps to look, and enough ammunition and stimpaks to keep us alive if it winds up being something dangerous?" Both men looked pained at the compromise, but nodded. I hate doing this to him, but MacCready has a point, even if he's being an ass about it for some reason. We're trying to stay hidden, and need to be able to fight if discovered.

Garvey went over to a locked safe in the corner of the room to count out our fee. I took the jingling bag of caps with a steady look at my partner, who shrugged. We were informed that Sturges kept the ammunition in a supply locker in his workshop, so headed back there. I dared a glance at my partner, who was scanning the settlement, his expression nearly impossible to read behind the bandanna he had pulled back up as soon as we stepped outside. I don't know what's gotten into him, but he's acting like he did when we first met, and I don't like it. This is the prickly facade, not the beautiful soul inside.

Shortly after leaving the communal hall, I heard the steady clang of cowbells ahead of us that announced the arrival of a pack brahmin. An older lady was headed up the street with a laden beast, a variety of goods attached haphazardly to the harness on its back. MacCready stopped to peer curiously at the sight, announcing after a moment, "That's Trashcan Carla. She usually has some pretty good deals, and sometimes carries useful stuff if we're going to be roughing it." He was pointedly looking down the street, avoiding my eyes.

Whatever's got him riled up, at least he's being professional and thinking tactically. I dug in my pocket, handing the bag of caps to my partner. "Here. Go see if you can haggle anything the Railroad may have forgotten. A pillow would be nice." I ignored his exasperated snort and strode off to talk with Sturges.

Sturges was working on some mechanical contraption or another, but set it aside when I explained our deal with Garvey. "Ammunition, huh?" he commented. "And stimpaks? Yeah, I can help you out. We have plenty to share." He led me to a previously unnoticed door in the side of the expanded repair bay, unlocking it to reveal a well-stocked storeroom. "You gonna check out that blocked supply line? What kind of rounds do you need?"

Loaded down with boxes of ammunition for both our rifles and our handguns, several stimpaks for both of us, and even a small string of grenades for MacCready ("Just the one string, please. I can't throw.") Sturges helped me carry our supplies back into the spare room in his house. Setting the rounds on the bed, he took a small step back to lean against the door frame, watching me as I stored them in our packs.

"Hey look, Lady... Anne." he began, nervously. "I, uh... I didn't know you were still with MacCready. I wouldn't have said..." he broke off, running restless fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry."

A lump formed in my throat at the kindness, the damn decency of the man. "Oh, Sturges," I breathed, standing up and turning to face him. "No. You absolutely do not need to apologize for telling me how you felt." I sighed and grabbed his hand to emphasize my sincerity. "You took me by surprise..." I faltered, and tried again. "I didn't know. Honestly, I'm not used to people liking me, not like that." I gave his hand a comforting squeeze. "You're a wonderful man, and I like you very much." I met his slight smile with one of my own. "If... well, if I didn't have to get home..." I shrugged, not knowing how to express myself, or how to mend the awkward situation. "and if I hadn't already fallen for Mac..." my voice had dropped to a low whisper.

"Aww, Lady, I understand." Sturges pulled me in for a hug. "Thanks." His friendly manner had resurfaced, but he leaned down to murmur in my ear. "If you ever change your mind, for whatever reason... you let me know, okay? My home and my heart are always open to you."

"Thanks, Sturges," I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye as we pulled apart. "That means the world to me."

He would have replied, but at that moment, MacCready slammed the door to the house open, storming into the room with frantic haste. "Boss! Get the packs ready. We have to leave Sanctuary right now!"