The clock was wrong. It had to be.
Piper keyed into her terminal, scrolling through a half-dozen unfinished stories until she reached the homepage.
17:05. Four hours plus change.
"Ughh." She groaned, leaning back to stretch her stiffening arms. And today had started off so promising too. She'd rolled out of bed with more energy than she'd had in weeks. Smiled at a grumpy-faced morning Nat, ruffled her hair and even met the following scowl with a cheery smile. Hadn't even fought back when the little monster hogged the last of their cereal. Who needs sugar when you've got drive?
Piper eyed what remained of the neat, orderly desk Blue had left for her, now covered in a day's worth of writer's block. Heaps of crumpled paper, the plastic corpses of the three pens she'd chewed to death. A trail of crumbs from when she'd shamelessly fished the cereal box out of the trash and held it over her head, shaking trickles of sweet dust into her gaping maw like a feral.
Who needs sugar? She did, apparently.
"Ughhhhhh."
"Go for a walk, Grognak."
She looked over at the flimsy curtain separating her from the voice that'd interrupted her thoughts. Through a crack in the cloth, she could see Nat hunched over on her bed. Probably reading. Probably without a gun to her head, though she couldn't see enough of the room to be sure. Smiling wickedly, she rose out of her chair and onto her tiptoes, sneaking over to the couch to grab a cushion.
Two steps towards the room and she'd changed her mind. Tossed the cushion aside and collapsed back into her chair. It wouldn't be fair to take out her frustration on Nat. Especially now that she was studying, not to mention combing her hair and brushing her teeth. Going to school. Doing everything she'd been trying to make her do for years. Little Nat was finally growing up, and it was all because of her.
When they'd first met, Blue had called her a cynic.
She'd just finished reading the Publick Occurrence's latest article, The Synthetic Truth¸ when she said it.
Piper, you're a cynic.
Later she'd looked up the definition of the word. A person who believes that only selfishness motivates human actions. And there'd been a moment of relief in knowing the vault dweller wasn't insulting her, followed by a brief flare of anger. Umm, have you met McDonough, Blue? Had a one-on-one interview with any raiders recently? Tried talking a Child of Atom out of a forced radioactive conversion? Of course everybody was selfish, greedy and corrupt. That's why she did what she did, exposing the truth to anyone who bothered to read her paper. Blue would understand, in time, just how important cynics like her were in this harsh world.
Only she didn't. Didn't need to. Instead, Blue swept through the Commonwealth like a radstorm, solving the problems she'd spent years chipping away at with quick, brutal efficiency. She'd cleared the city of Supermutants and raiders, brought the Minutemen back to life and even created this vibrant, thriving town in the ruins of the Castle; all like she was trying to make a point.
See what happens when you stop complaining and start doing?
Sunlight was still seeping through the cracks in her new home's wooden walls, reminding her there was still time to get out and do something. Talk to people. Snoop around, tick some of them off. And write about it. Even without sugar, she still had the energy to write. She wanted to. There just wasn't anything to write about. Compared to Diamond City, this place was paradise. A real school with real books? Traders selling everything from watches to globes? Where were the problems that needed solving, the ugly truths people hid under the floorboards? Blue hung people in broad daylight and they applauded her. Everyone knew exactly what she was and didn't care.
Everyone but one pushy, nosy reporter.
And what right did she have to ruin their happiness with her Diamond City cynicism? Especially when everything she had, save the clothes on her back and the terminal, were probably paid for by their taxes?
Piper snorted, singling out a red pen and chewing on it to fend off her growing hunger. Maybe this was the plan all along. Invite her over all polite-like, hook her up with the best place in the settlement. Give her time to settle in, see how good things were. Throw in some Nuka-Cola and a pretty Minuteman butler and just wait until all her cynicism fizzled itself out. Her last critic, silenced. A bribe that would've made McDonough blush.
She bit down so hard the pen snapped in half with a crack. The bitter taste of ink flooded her mouth as she spat the dismembered remains of yet another one of Blue's gifts under her desk. There was the cynic, still kicking despite everything. Still convinced that everyone, even Blue, had a motive.
Smiling, maybe a little giddy, she pulled open a drawer and brought out the letter. The one Blue had written, in that elegant, loopy script of hers that so casually put her reporter's scribble to shame.
Your Blueberry. How much clearer did it get?
She loves you dummy. The thought rumbled out from her stomach, growing hotter as it rose to her chest. That's the big secret, the one she's been screaming into your face.
"Oh Blue." Piper whispered, deathly soft in case Nat was listening. There'd be no coming back if she ever heard a pant this needy, this desperate. Not after all the nights they'd spent together, plotting the downfall of a woman she'd called a tyrant, a murderer.
Why me Blue? She turned rapidly moistening eyes towards the terminal, begging it to give her the answer she'd been searching for since that fateful first meeting outside the Wall. What did I ever do for you?
The monitor flickered in response and she sighed, burying stinging eyes in folded arms. It just wasn't fair. Blue wasn't crying over her, so why was she always…
"Piper!"
Piper burrowed deeper into her arms. The way she half-smiled, chewing on the bottom of her lip to try and hide it when that just made it more obvious—
"Hey, Piper!"
And the way her voice would change sometimes when she was excited, skipping over Rs so her name went from Piper to Pipah…
"Hey! I'm hungry!"
She scowled as the image flickered and faded for a moment. Watch how she walks, straight-backed and proud like a fairytale queen and ignore that shrill voice burrowing into your ears—
"Get up!" this time the voice came with a blunt pain to the shoulder that ruined the dream completely. Piper blinked awake to see…herself, towering over her.
"Uh…what?" She mumbled, rubbing her shoulder. There was an ache in her back too and yes, she had fallen off her chair and no, that wasn't her synth double here to replace her but something much, much worse.
"You fell asleep." Nat growled, hands on her hips in a painfully familiar pose. "And you fell off your chair."
"I can tell." She groaned, rolling onto her side. 20:47.
Her sister's face twisted to something she didn't immediately recognize.
"You ok?" She asked, and it was the tremble in her voice that tipped her off. She was worried.
"Y-Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just tired." Piper managed, latching onto the sofa and heaving herself upright. Why wouldn't you love me, Blue? See how I treat the people I love? "You want something to eat?"
"There's no food at home." Nat cast a critical eye over the messy desk, landing on the empty cereal box.
"I know, I know." Piper groaned, pulling herself up onto shaky feet. "I'll see if anyone's open, alright?"
"I'll come with you." She said, raising an eyebrow, daring her to argue.
"Sure. But I'm going to quiz you on the way."
The look of revulsion on Nat's face was enough to chase away the clouds of Blue. For now.
"Mixed fractions, is it?"
"Improper fractions." Nat muttered, her nose wrinkling. "You're really going to go out like that?"
"What?" She glanced down to make sure she was wearing her usual red jacket with all its usual holes and patches. "It's fine."
"Your hair." Her sister smiled smugly. "It's improper."
"Seven-fourths plus three-eighths. Solve that, properly." Piper snapped, using the mathematical distraction to search the room for the hairbrush she could've sworn she'd brought with her.
The sound of muted voices outside, the tinkling and creaking of loaded carts heading back to town from the evening market stopped her. Who cared what her hair looked like? In a few minutes the last shops would close and they'd both go hungry. And the only thing worse than a worried Nat was a hungry, worried Nat.
Piper swiped her press cap off the couch and pulled it tight over her frizzy hair. This'll do.
"C'mon." She held the door open for Nat, who stumbled outside staring at her fingers, mumbling numbers.
Piper would have liked to pretend she was going to any other shop than Mary's. It wasn't like the town was short on options; there was a stand close to the Castle's main gate that sold Brahmin steaks for fifty caps a plate. A shop that reeked of grease and spices that offered Mirelurk kebabs at an incredibly reasonable twenty caps per stick. Near the school there was a portly man who never stopped smiling while handing out sweet-smelling chunks of grilled Radstag for ten caps. And if your budget was anything other than free, there was a vendor by the front gate that could get you fried Radroach legs for two caps a piece. But since her budget was free, and cheaper than that if you can, she ended up in front of the bakery anyways.
Mary was standing in front, watching a lanky man with light-brown skin crouched on the counter, tugging on a shutter.
"We'll leave the lights off Jake." Mary cried, her voice strained but soft. "Don't hurt yourself."
"Just a little more…" The man puffed, giving the shutter a strong, vindictive tug. The metal sheets clattered down to about halfway before grinding to a halt. In the hush of night, he might as well have launched a Mini-Nuke. All four of them collectively winced, bracing for impact, and Piper spun around, half-expecting a frowning Minuteman to materialize out of thin air. With her luck, it'd be Minuteman Bill, waving his laser musket and blaming the whole thing on her.
But nobody showed and the man hopped to the ground with a satisfied smile, dusting off his hands.
"That'll do. When Sturges gets back from the island I'll ask him to take a look."
"Maybe some oil would help?"
"Nah it's the metal." Jake tapped lightly on the shutter. "The fourth and fifth panels are out of alignment." He paused, glancing back. "Crooked, I mean. Darling we have customers."
Mary spun around, smiling apologetically. "I'm sorry, we're clos—" She froze, eyes growing wide, smile growing wider. "Piper! What can I do for you?"
"I—umm." She ran a hand through her hair, encountering an unacceptable number of knots and tangles. Mary was clutching a loaf of bread to her chest. "You open?" She mumbled, staring out across the dark waters and wondering if it'd be too much to ask for the tide to rise up and swallow her whole.
"We were just closing up." Mary said. She noticed Piper staring at the bread and held it higher. "I'm taking this to the inn."
"Oh." Nat dug an insistent finger into the small of her back. "What for?"
The woman's smile was small and sad. "So many of the refugees from Diamond City and the farms have little to eat. I try to help, however I can."
Food shortages. That was something to write about, wasn't it? Tuck it behind the ear for later.
Another poke from behind, reminding her of the more immediate food shortage waiting back home. I get it Nat.
"Do you mind…" She hesitated. Suck it up Piper. "C-Could you spare a few pieces for us? We wanted to make some sandwiches."
Mary's eyes moved slowly. First to the bread, then to Piper, then to Nat. For a second it looked like she might refuse. Put the last of her pride out of its misery with a small shake of the head.
But then she smiled. "Give me a few minutes and I'll have the oven back on. Make you something fresh."
"You don't have to—"
"Nonsense!" Mary waved away her protests. "You're a friend of the General!"
Right. It wasn't like she hadn't expected this, planned for it even, but damn did it hurt to admit how much Blue did for her, even when she wasn't around.
"Jake! Could you bring us some chairs?"
Jake's head poked out from behind the counter. His black hair clung to his forehead, courtesy of the oven he was already halfway through restarting. Like it was just a given they'd reopen the shop for her.
"I'll be right back." Mary promised, waving. There was a swell to her belly Piper hadn't noticed before, probably because it was always hidden behind the counter.
Jake came by a few minutes later with a couple of plastic chairs. Nat plopped into hers without hesitation, still ticking fingers. Piper lingered on her feet, watching Jake huff and grunt while tugging over a round, wooden table. She'd met him before, at the only one of Blue's meetings she'd attended. And he certainly recognized her, from the way he smiled and nodded at her like she was royalty. But the man hardly spoke a word, and he disappeared into the shop before she had a chance to thank him. Glad to see her, but not glad enough to make small talk.
Which left her standing awkwardly by the table, alone with Nat.
"I need paper." Her sister complained, throwing her hands in the air and tipping her chair back dangerously. "Gimme your pad."
"You won't always have paper kiddo. That's why they call it mental math."
"Yeah? Then why do you always carry it around?" She countered. "Why don't you memorize what people are saying?"
Piper frowned, sinking into her seat.
"Don't be smart with me, Natalie Wright. There's no such thing as mental reporting." She reached over to poke her shoulder. "Try harder. I believe in you."
"Yeah sure." She grumbled, crossing her arms and going silent. Pouting, but a faint smile on her counting lips meant her words had done their job.
Piper drummed on the table, watching the last of Castletown's residents disappear into their homes. Two traders were heaving a bulging sack out of the Castle gate. A patrol of Minutemen was marching down the street, laser muskets bathing the worn, dirt road in a warm, red glow. Blue was only a few hundred feet away, probably fast asleep.
And Natalie Wright was glaring at her.
"What?"
"What what?"
Piper stilled her fingers and huffed. "That look. You have something to say?"
Nat paused, then nodded. Stared off over the lapping waves, chewing on her lip. When she turned back, her expression was cautious. Measured. A look ripped straight out of her interviews.
"You should interview her."
Fat chance. It had taken her a year to thaw out the frozen vault dweller. Sharing Cram from the same tin, saving each other's lives, arguing over the best kind of Nuka-Cola, that was what they'd had once, back when Blue would have told her anything. What they had now was lukewarm. Not bad, but not that. She'd have to catch her alone and in the right state of mind and of course she'd have to keep her cool around her for atleast ten minutes and…Nat wasn't talking about her, was she?
"She's giving us free food."
"I know," Piper tilted away to hide a blush. "And?"
"Ask her about the shop."
"We didn't bring the press, remember?" She muttered. "It would be pointless."
"It's a nice thing to do." Nat countered. "She looked so happy to see you. And she's giving us free food."
"We don't have a press." She repeated, this time with a frown. "I can't print anything."
"She doesn't know that." Nat whispered, eyes flicking pointedly past her shoulder. Gravel crunched behind, the sound of labored breathing growing louder. "Just do it. Be nice."
Be nice. Piper considered that for a second. It definitely sounded doable, even more now that she'd caught a whiff of Mirelurk meat as Mary shuffled past. And she desperately needed practice. If everyone around her insisted on going out of their way to be nice to her, the least she could do was give something back. Even if she just lent a sympathetic ear, nodding along and jotting down their complaints, she'd be doing her part in Blue's Commonwealth.
With a sigh, Piper rose out of her chair and followed Mary to the counter. For her part, the dedicated baker (or was it bakeress? She'd have to check the dictionary when they got back) kept her focus on the oven, huddling closer to the glowing coals as the first of what would likely be many chilly breezes swept through town.
Piper tugged her coat tighter around her waist, pulling out her notepad in the same motion.
"Just a few minutes, Piper." Mary said, wiping beads of sweat off her forehead. "Just needs to heat up a little."
"There's no rush." Piper replied. "Actually, I was wondering if you'd have time for a few questions."
"Questions?" Mary swiped at her brow again. "For me?"
"Of course!" Piper smiled, using her notepad to point at the sign. "I'd love to hear your story. And I'm sure the people of Castletown would too."
Mary's eyes followed the notepad as it swept downwards, nestling into place a comfortable arm's length away from Piper's chest. Your story. Not my story.
"You'll print this?" Mary asked, suddenly self-conscious, one hand rising past her temple to relocate droopy bangs dislodged by the wind. "On a newspaper?"
"You bet!" Piper lied with a winning smile. "Might even make the front page!"
"Oh!" Her eyes flicked from the oven to the counter to the notepad.
"And don't worry about your hair." Piper said quickly. Mary's hand froze at her scalp before sheepishly dropping to her side. "We're not taking pictures."
"I see." She muttered, wringing her hands on the counter. "Just a few questions, right?"
"It'll be over before you know it." Piper promised.
"Ok then…" She patted down her dress, kicking up small clouds of flour. "I'm ready."
"Great! Ok, first question. What's your name?"
"Lucy. Uh−Lucy Finch."
Piper blinked.
"What?"
The baker looked up from the counter, saw her staring at a sign that definitely said Mary's bakery and smiled.
"Mary was my sister. It was Jake's idea to name the shop after her."
"That's wonderful." Piper said, forcing a smile and grinding her heel into sand. Of course she'd never bothered to ask the lovely baker her name, not once in all the times she'd dropped by looking for handouts.
Lucy Finch. She wrapped the name in iron, making sure she'd never forget it. She owed her that much.
"And where are you from?"
"Abernathy farm. It's a few miles North of the city, little East from Greygarden."
A family farm. There were quite a few of them outside the city. Small outposts run by generations of hardy settlers that weathered constant raider attacks and feral swarms to provide bigger settlements like Castletown and Diamond City with the fresh food that kept them running. The stories she'd heard from settlers migrating out of those farms made her rough Diamond City upbringing seem like paradise.
"Why'd you come here?"
"After Mary died, father put me on the next caravan to Diamond City." Lucy bit her lip. "The mayor, the former mayor, he told us there was no space for refugees. So I moved to Goodneighbor for a while, then down South to the Finch farm."
"Where you met your husband?"
She nodded, smiling at the dough.
"We lived there for years. Jake didn't want to leave, you see. There was a group of raiders living in an old factory. The Forged." She glanced down at Piper's notepad. "You…you aren't writing anything."
"Huh? Oh I've got everything right here." Piper grinned, tapping her temple. "Mental reporting."
A snicker from over her shoulder, closer than she'd expected. Nat had snuck up to eavesdrop.
Lucy's eyes flicked from sister to sister, then dropped back to her dough. "Mental reporting. I see."
"Please, go on." Piper urged, sliding the notepad into her pocket. Shouldn't have pulled it out in the first place. She didn't have the paper to take notes on stories she'd never publish. "The Forged?"
"Yes. The Forged. They were in an old factory near the farm. Jake's father had an agreement with them then. He gave them some food and they mostly left us alone. But Jake didn't want to leave." She winced, shaking her head. "I'm just repeating myself…"
"You're doing great."
"We'd heard about Castletown from some traders passing through. Jake thought the raiders would attack the farm if we left. Mr. Finch was old and loved his farm and they argued a lot. One day he came to me and said we were leaving." Lucy paused. Her floury hands dug deep into the dough, squeezing it into a ball. "He was angry. They'd been fighting again, and Jake finally wanted to leave."
"So you left the farm?" Nat asked, playing her part to keep the story going.
Lucy nodded slowly. "I hated it there. It was too much like home, only the raiders were right there instead of somewhere far away. And Jake, he's just like Mary in a way, he doesn't listen about arguing with the raiders. So I had the bags packed already and we left."
A pause. Long enough for Piper to fill in the blanks, even as she leaned forward to push the story to completion.
"We were only gone for a few days before Jake changed his mind. He was just angry, he said, he never really wanted to leave. Halfway to the Castle, we turned back." She shook her head, turning away. "I think…" She held up the dough, presenting it to Piper first, then Nat. "It's ready."
The sisters glanced at each other. Nat, now standing at full attention, nodded.
Attagirl.
"Nat, could you set the table for us?"
Nat raised an eyebrow with just the right amount of indignation, arms crossed.
"Right now?"
"Right now, Natalie Wright." Piper scowled to match. "And wipe that look off your face."
"I've got plates!" Lucy held the plastic disc close to her chest, like a shield. "And forks and napkins and…" Her fingers scrambled across the counter, searching for other silverware to interrupt the argument with.
"That sounds great, doesn't it Nat?"
"Fine." She grumbled, stepping up to take the plates and forks and napkins. "But whatever she's having, I'll have two."
Lucy smiled. "Of course, you must be very hungry. It'll be ready in just a minute."
Nat nodded, then marched back to the table with all the expected indignation of a child asked to leave the grown-up's table.
It wasn't the first time they'd pulled this trick. Having a bright-eyed, curious young girl hanging onto every word usually did wonders loosening up frozen tongues. And Nat loved getting in on the scoop.
But the look on Lucy's face when she'd mentioned the farm meant whatever happened next in the story wasn't good news. And that was Nat's cue to leave, before the baker started wondering if the memories resurfacing were worth sharing, especially with a child.
Just you and me now.
"Lucy, don't worry about her." Piper leaned in, lowering her voice to a whisper. "I need to know what happened, even if it doesn't go into the story."
"But why?" Lucy looked her dead in the eye, suddenly bitter. "Why does it matter?"
Why does it matter, Piper? When nothing's getting printed, no story's coming out?
She never should've agreed to this. Of course Nat had thought it was a good idea. Nat, who never had to spare a thought for tomorrow, or the day after, when they'd inevitably have to come back here for bread. Nat who'd hide behind her shoulder while she stuttered out an explanation for why the story of the Finch farm wasn't on the front page of a paper that didn't exist. Nat who, despite everything she'd picked up following her older sister around, was still young and naïve enough to believe the truth always helped, that torturing the poor baker with memories of her past was being nice.
She'd printed a story once before, just trying to be nice. The last one she'd published, the one that ended things with Blue. And killed an innocent man.
All of a sudden, none of this felt right. The free food, the interview, coming back to Blue. It was time to go home, go somewhere. Away from her. She was already shaking her head.
"You don't─"
"I'm sorry." Lucy shook her head. "You can't write a story if I don't tell you everything, I know."
Piper nodded. "Sometimes it helps to just say it out loud, Lucy."
"I─" She swallowed. "I don't remember."
"Oh." Piper slipped her hands into her coat. Maybe Lucy would pack them something for the trip back to Diamond City. "I get it."
"No!" Lucy cried, startling Piper. "The whole day, I can't remember a thing. I'm not lying!"
"The raiders came back, you said."
"Yes, they came back. Took Jake with them. To the factory."
"And you? The rest of the Finch family?"
A shadow flitted across her face, hardening her warm, brown eyes till they were cold and dark.
"They were killed. I remember. But they left me."
"Any idea why?"
"I-I don't know. But I was alive and Jake was gone. Then I…" Her eyes snapped shut. "I was alive. I know I was."
"Jake escaped too didn't he?"
"The General saved him. I remember waking up in the farm, and she'd brought him back. And she…" Deep breath. "Don't know. I really don't know."
Rusted though they were, her reporter senses had clicked then. Lucy was breathing hard, her eyes still pressed shut. No sign of the tears that usually came with bad memories. No she looked scared, not sad, or mournful, or any of the other words her ragged pocket dictionary had directed her towards.
"Course she was scared." Nat's voice interrupted from the couch. She was sprawled over the edge, chewing through the remnants of her second burger. "You get this look in your eyes sometimes y'know."
Piper blinked, then tugged a lock of dark hair to her lips.
"I told you, her eyes were closed."
"Cause you were staring at her." Nat swallowed, then turned her eyes wide, unnaturally wide, and tucked her lip between her teeth. "Fike fis."
Piper sighed, leaning back in her chair. Her sandwich lay on the desk, untouched. Smelled amazing, but she wouldn't enjoy it now. Not when her brain was running a mile a minute, trying to picture what the baker had looked like when she'd silently walked away from the counter. She couldn't shake the feeling that there'd been a story, a real story, behind those wet, brown eyes.
I don't know. I don't remember. She'd said, again and again. Head shaking, back turned and hunched. Scared. Not sad.
But scared of her? Because of a face she'd made?
"You eating that?" Nat asked, punctuating each word with the sound of smacking lips.
"I will." She warned, snatching the sandwich off the desk and turning it over in her hands. Lucy had even wrapped it in foil. Printed in neat script over the faded name of a long-forgotten restaurant were the words: Mary's Bakery.
Her eyes lingered over the name. Mary. As plain a name as any. She'd probably met a dozen Marys over her career. Maybe she'd even met this one somewhere, a Mary Abernathy who'd knocked on her door back when business was booming, offering up her life story for fifteen caps. A story that was gone forever now.
Damnit.
"Alright you can have it." Piper muttered, barely reacting as Nat darted forward to snatch the package out of her lap.
"You're sure?" She asked, and Piper's stomach growled a resounding no even as she waved the food away.
"Sure. Not hungry anymore."
Nat didn't budge, now looking at the sandwich like it might be poisoned.
"Huh. Mary's bakery."
"Yep."
The foil crinkled as it unraveled, the scent of lightly spiced meat tickled her nose. Piper turned away and closed her eyes. Hunger was grinding away at her resilience already. Just a few minutes ago she'd been all set to pack her bags and be gone by morning. Make good on the threat she'd made to Blue.
But everything felt so right here. Nat was happy, the people were happy, even Lucy'd been happy until her cynical nose had pushed too far. Maybe she was the problem. Maybe it was time to let go.
"Remember that woman at the gate? When we first got here? Wasn't her name Mary too?"
It took her a second to process what Nat had said. More than a second, actually, as she tossed the suggestion around in her sleepy head, trying to make sense of it word by word.
Woman. Gate. Mary.
Maria.
Piper shot out of her chair. Nat squeaked, dropping burger and foil.
"Maria." She gasped, barely registering Nat's groan. "Nat, have you seen that woman anywhere? Around town?"
Nat raised an eyebrow at her while picking up the burger, dusting off the bread.
"No." Then, slowly. "You've got that look again. The scary one."
"No I don't." Piper snapped, knowing full well that she did have that look on her face. It'd been a while since she'd felt it before. The rush of euphoria, the burst of inspiration. A sudden realization that there was atleast one person in Castletown who wouldn't have nice things to say about the General. And the giddy excitement that came with tearing down the lies with the cold, honest truth.
The General doesn't keep everyone safe.
Sorry Blueberry Piper thought, reaching for her coat I really am a cynic.
"Hey wait! Where are you going?"
And I'm coming for you.