Chapter 4: "Into Each Life Some Rain Must Fall" – The Inkspots
Disclaimer: I don't own Fallout or Potter.
POV: Morgan Le Fay, Ruins of Ilvermorny
Her slippered feet made the barest of whispers as she followed behind the cantankerous pukwudgie, 'William'. The only other noise that defiled the darkened space was the constant grumbled complaints from the wildly hairy little man as he led her further into the desolation of the once proud school. Despite the timelock, the halls were subdued in somber shades of gray, as if bleached of all vibrancy and life.
The overbearing sense that pervaded the school was like a sepulcher at midnight, the chill matched only by the echo of conversations and laughter Morgan imagined took place in these very halls. Innumerable students lived and learned here through the years, a forlorn sigh escaping her lips at the somber thought that that time may never come again.
The darkness was dispelled only by the narrow cone of amber provided by the lantern William carried. Despite her discomfort, Morgan had no wish to conjure additional light, feeling as though such illumination would disturb the melancholy of the place. It seemed right for the school to be in mourning for what was lost.
A trickle of dust wafted from the ceiling, an answer to the deep reverberating groan which undulated down the passage like a massive serpent clearing its throat. It lent the pair haste, as Morgan lacked the art to restore a timelock once broken. William's muttering grew, an almost baleful gaze tossed back toward the witch as they walked. Morgan, despite the centuries of wisdom and power, was chagrined at the accusatory look, knowing that she was to blame for their need to hurry.
Lost as she was in her momentary pangs of guilt, she almost ran into her diminutive guide, who had stopped at a marble statue and was gazing at it in something approaching longing. Curious at the implications of a pukwudgie displaying that sort of emotion, Morgan examined the statuary. She gasped at the visage, the artistry of the rendering showing a face much like her own. It was akin to gazing into a mirror, though there were minor differences.
"Isolt, though she sometimes went by Morrigan." William stated simply.
Ah. The founder of the school. She cast a sidelong glance at the grumpy goblin-kin and surmised that he was the same 'William' of the old stories, he who had been rescued by Isolt from a Hidebehind and had in return rescued the witch and her family from being murdered by Gormlaith Gaunt. Keeping the revelation to herself, knowing that the stubborn creature would only deny it anyway, she set about to take the lovingly maintained statue, first shrinking it to the size of a doll. William bent to snatch it up and held it for a moment before snarling at the notice Morgan paid to him and shoving it into a pocket.
He moved on and Morgan followed, her mind wondering if perhaps she was related to the witch somehow. The resemblance was uncanny, a likeness that probably helped convince William to reveal himself to her in the first place.
Another groan and another shower of plaster and dust hastened their steps, until at last they stood before the massive metal doors of some kind of vault. Carvings writhed on its surface, a pantomime of the living creatures they portrayed.
"This is one of the living menageries." William explained gruffly, as he searched his numerous pockets thoughtfully, "I've maintained this place for over two centuries… work that I expect to be compensated for!" He added with a shout, waving his hand under her face for emphasis. He harrumphed as he noticed that the same hand held the very key he was looking for, and he swiftly inserted it into the suddenly visible lock and turned it with a click.
The carvings darted away, as if fleeing, toward the edges of the door as it creaked open softly on oiled hinges. A warm breeze filled with the scent of life, both plant and animal, greeted them and Morgan smiled in spite of herself. Within the vault was a wonder, a massive vaulted chamber whose ceiling was lost to an enchantment showing a startlingly blue sky, wisps of cloud decorating the impressive sky-scape.
Several other pukwudgies looked up at the intrusion and with an almost choreographed muttered curse, bent back to their work. William led the way over a stone bridge that granted passage over a swiftly flowing stream, the black waters parting to show the curious eyes and glistening ivory crown of a horned serpent. Thunder pealed across the sky as a thunderbird flew overhead, wheeling on massive wings before settling on artfully crafted outcropping of stone.
Morgan felt a nudge and she turned to run a hand over the glistening coat of a gaunt thestral, who had approached her curiously. As they continued through the menagerie, a phoenix regarded her impassively as it perched on a small tree. Morgan committed herself then and there, if she saved nothing else from the school, she would find a way to safeguard these remnants of a more glorious age.
She mentally catalogued every creature she saw, planning out the necessary charms that would be needed to keep them safe and secure when they would eventually depart. An alarmed yet muffled cry erupted behind her. She whirled around, hands raised and ready to unleash her power. She lowered her hands and sighed at her manservant, who had become entangled in the tentacles of a snarfalump plant. She felt a little badly that she had completely forgotten about her lackey but shrugged it off as he was probably safest where he was. The snarfalump wasn't a carnivorous plant, merely a nuisance if one were to be foolish enough to get entangled in its sticky tentacles.
William tapped his foot impatiently, and Morgan sighed again as she picked up her skirts and hurried to his side. He led the way again through the menagerie to a door opposite the entrance. This door gave him a bit of trouble despite not having any sort of lock, as no one had presumably used the portal in some time and the wood had swelled from the moisture. With a shout of triumph, the door whooshed open and blasted the pair with dry musty air.
Coughing delicately into her handkerchief, she peered over the pukwudgie and saw a short passage with a series of doors, 3 to a side.
William spat out a glob of phlegm and indicated the passage, "Storage cupboards. Spare tools for the menagerie, a pantry with potion making ingredients, some spare wands… Take what you can."
William left her to it and began barking at the other pukwudgies in their native language. Morgan swiftly pulled on some gloves and prepared to take stock. The first cupboard had large traveling luggage cases, already enchanted with extension charms. She selected the largest one with clawed feet and directed it to follow her with a wave of her wand. She led it back to the menagerie and motioned to William, who nodded in understanding and disappeared into the trunk with his kin to prepare the interior for the menagerie.
Hours later, the increasing tremors gave the witch the unwelcome sense of panic, an emotional state that she was very unaccustomed to. She had summoned her thrall and had the poor man resembling a gypsy with the numerous colorful bags of every description hanging off his shoulders and swaying from his overburdened arms. She had emptied several storerooms filled with potion making ingredients that hadn't gone bad, seedlings, wands and piles upon piles of reference books on every subject from ancient runes to divination.
Thankfully, the pukwudgies had worked wonders on the chest and the menagerie had already been transferred to the new atrium within. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she had to physically wrench herself free with something approaching heart ache as she left the wealth of knowledge and material behind. Sweeping her thrall in her wake, she abandoned dignity and hiked up her gown to run.
The halls shuddered as the weight of the ruins above bore down on the weakened chambers deep beneath the mountain. She dared a glance back and almost moaned in dismay at her thrall falling behind, burdened by several bags that had slipped down to entangle his legs. He smiled at her sadly and redoubled his efforts to run even so impeded. She drew one of the wands she had found that allowed her, albeit reluctantly, to wield it. She made a swift slashing movement and cut the bags free from his legs. The look of gratitude on his face almost broke her, and the veneer of pride and arrogance that had always surrounded her cracked ever so slightly.
She deigned to touch the odious man, and grasped one of arms to lend him her strength, and they ran together ahead of a billowing cloud of dust. The miasma surged past them and inundated them with grey stinging particles. Nearly lost in the dark fog that choked and stung their eyes, they continued to put one foot ahead of the other and nearly toppled when they hit the bottom landing of the stairs leading up and out.
The pukwudgies huffed at the pair as they hacked and coughed the dust of ages from their lungs. One recovered, she sent the servant, not unkindly, to fetch the carriage. She considered that she would need to find a manner of address for the man, as referring to him as 'you' or 'thrall' would simply not do.
Minutes later, after William sealed shut the way back into the school, the party headed north and east toward the northern edge of the Glowing Sea. She intended to go around the ominous green storm and head east to the coast to where she thought Salem would be.
POV: Harry, General Atomics
Hermione's eyes were rimmed and puffy as though she had been crying. Though it was with dry cheeks that she kept vigil over the softly breathing Jonathan as he recovered from the explosion that brought the soldier low. Harry wasn't sure what to make of that, though having spent the last several days exploring the Commonwealth together, she had to have formed some rapport with the man.
He and Daphne had kept busy by assisting Ada with disposing of the Rust Devil bodies and collecting the useable salvage from the factory itself. His attempt to lose himself in the work was failing to distract him from the niggling sense that there was a greater threat over the horizon. He was no expert in runes, but the subtle inscriptions on the Rust Devil's armor and weapons indicated to him that some witch or wizard was involved somehow with the raider gang. This fact alone, he felt, put dealing with these raiders squarely within Salem's responsibility.
Stretching out his sore back, Harry stood back from the pile of robot armor that he had dragged together and glanced over at Daphne and Ada talking as they worked to move the last of the raiders into the bay. A ghost of a smile graced his tired face as he watched them work, his mind going back to the kiss they had shared over the walls of Salem. A twinge of guilt struck him as Ginny's face appeared in his mind for a moment… the accompanying pang of loss still fresh to him despite the intervening time.
"Ginny's been gone for centuries," he told himself, "its past time to move on."
"Hey, quit faffing around Harry!"
He turned and saw that both Daphne and Ada had approached him and were looking at him expectantly.
"Sorry, what?"
"All right?" Daphne asked, moving closer and placing her hand on his shoulder.
He set his hand atop hers almost as a reflex and pulled her in for a quick hug, the girl actually squeaking in surprise at the sudden affection.
"I'm fine, just a bit knackered I supposed."
Daphne didn't seem to quite buy his explanation, but dropped it as she led Harry back inside. The sun was setting over the Commonwealth and the wind from the Atlantic was coming in colder than usual. Ada volunteered to stand guard outside, as she neither required rest or shelter from the cold.
The pair moved through the detritus of the past battles in companionable silence, heading up to the offices of the former General Atomics employees where they had set up temporary lodging as the General recovered. They came in to see that Hermione was busy preparing something that resembled dinner, her skill in cooking being an inverse proportion to her skill at nearly everything else. She looked at the pair apologetically, Daphne and Harry quickly plastering on their most ingratiating smiles.
Hermione sighed at the pair as they both asked after what, 'smelled so good.'
She appreciated them for their lies and made room for Daphne to join her while Harry moved over to check on Jonathan.
"Oh." Harry exclaimed, "I didn't realize you were awake."
Jonathan had been busy staring at the ceiling as he lay on the dirty couch, his hands clasped behind his head as he tried not to grimace in pain as he turned to look at Harry.
"Yeah, I'd be up and about but that witch over there would have none of it. She used her wand on me." He said the last almost as a whisper, though not low enough to escape Hermione's hearing.
"And I'd do it again if you so much as twitch!" She hissed, though her anger at Jonathan was more an expression of frustration and pent up worry than actual rancor.
"I surrender!" Jonathan replied, loudly. "Can we not do this again? I'm not going anywhere and I certainly don't want to get hit with that red stuff again!"
Hermione huffed and went back to stirring her stew of what had to have been mostly made up of old socks, if the smell was any judge.
Harry chuckled despite it all and sit down in a folding metal chair next to the General.
"So… since we seem to have the time, why don't you catch us up on what's been happening with you lot?" Harry asked diplomatically, as much need to catch up as to deflate the tension.
"Sure." Jonathan hissed in pain as he shifted to look at Harry directly. "Hopefully you got my message, about the distress call I had gotten on my Pip-boy?" He lifted his arm with the aforementioned device on it for emphasis.
Harry nodded, remembering.
"Hermione and I came across a caravan with several people and robots being attacked by another group of robots. We did what we could, but the people had been killed and Ada was the only robot to survive."
He paused for a moment while collecting his thoughts.
"There is a new threat in the Commonwealth. Someone or something called, 'The Mechanist.' He is sending groups of robots out to slaughter everyone they come across, all the while broadcasting his message of bringing help to the people of the Commonwealth."
Jonathan's lips curled in disgust, "Help them into an early grave; what a sick sense of humor this guy must have."
He shook it off, "Anyway, one of those groups was responsible for killing Ada's friends. I promised to help her find this Mechanist and stop him before more innocents are killed. We came here to track down some tech carried by one of his field lieutenants, a horrifying amalgam of human and machine called a 'robo-brain'."
At Harry's confused look, he clarified, "It's a human brain mounted into a robot chassis. I can't imagine what the process would do to a person, but the one here was hostile and aggressive."
"And then it blew up, knocked me out pretty good and Hermione has been taking care of me ever since. Thanks for coming by the way, I owe all of you my life."
Harry waved the sentiment away, "We're all in this together, Jon. You'd have done the same for us."
"I would." The General stated firmly, "But thanks all the same. How is your neck of the woods?"
"Salem is doing very well. Though food is starting to become an issue now that we're growing so much. We took in a group of refugees… Vault dwellers like yourself by the looks of it. Said that they were trying to escape from some men dressed in black power armor."
Jonathan looked alarmed at the news, "A faction in power armor rooting out a Vault? That's no mean feat, those vaults are secure against a nuclear warhead."
Harry nodded grimly, "I haven't had the chance to check out their story, but I don't doubt that they've been through it."
Eager to change the subject, "On the plus side, your caravans have started to come through, if not for them, I'd have to tighten my belt by a few more notches."
"That's good to hear, having trade with you will benefit everyone. My people are already talking about moving to retake the Castle. I'm not sure we're ready just yet though, the Castle is on the opposite side of the Commonwealth from us and it'd be a real stretch to supply it through our settlements."
Harry agreed, "Better to take it nice and slow."
He cocked an eyebrow at the man, "Though I'm surprised you think that. You went from being some stranger to the General of the Minutemen and in charge of dozens, if not hundreds of people."
The unspoken question hung in the air, Jonathan clearly a bit uncomfortable at the drilling looks all three of them were fixing him with.
Hermione broke the spell, "I think I speak for everyone… we want to trust you, but it feels like you're hiding something."
Jonathan opened his mouth as if to respond then closed it, his mouth snapping shut like a steel trap. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose.
POV: Jonathan, Over 14 years ago
His heart was pulsing adrenaline through his body, the trembling in his limbs and slick sweat rolling off of him was proof enough of that. A metallic clang was followed by the hiss of compressed air and just like that, the pressure door that had been closed his entire life was suddenly open. He was nearly shoved aside as his squad surged forward, the air split with howls of wrath from his brothers and sisters.
The young man in a white lab coat looked up from his terminal with shock and terror painted clearly across his face. His mouth gaped open and objects clattered to the ground as he backed away, shaking his head as if in denial. His head snapped back and a spraying jet of blood painted the ceiling crimson before his lifeless body collapsed in a heap onto the cold metal deck. Yvette's face was cold and impassive as she stepped over the man's body, the barrel of her 10mm still smoking from her snapshot. The others fanned out and secured the room, moving with the military precision that had been drilled into them since birth.
It was the height of irony that the very training and genetic breeding that the scientists had subjected them to would ultimately prove the instrument of their destruction. Despite the catatonic fear which had captured the former researcher, Jonathan found that he discovered not conjure within himself to the capacity for pity or remorse.
The next room did not prove to be more of a hindrance to their progress than their last, the trio of scientists scrambling before they were cut down with precision small arms fire. The room after displayed their righteous justice would not be easily won, as a pair of machinegun turrets swung down from the ceiling and perforated Allen with 5.56mm fire as the others dove for cover. A pressure door opened and admitted a pair of protectrons, their sturdy frames marking them as military grade models. Soon the air crackled with the sound of laser bursts and return fire as the group contested with the automatrons.
A protectron stomped forward to break the stalemate and in a moment of foolhardiness, Jonathan leapt out from his cover to grapple with the robot directly. Its bulk shielded him from turret fire, but its strength nearly saw his plan undone. With a painful twist, he freed one hand and slammed his open palm repeatedly against the glass dome of the robots head. Each thunderous strike sent ravaging arcs of pain through his limbs but he did not relent, widening the cracks on the failing dome. Fresh pain erupted as his hand plunged through the hole he created, the jagged edges of it tearing flesh from his arm. Gritting his teeth against it, he gripped the hot electronics which composed the creature's brain and yanked it hissing and sparking from the protectron.
Drawing deep of desperation and adrenaline fueled strength, he heaved the protectron into its partner, throwing it off balance and sending both clattering to the floor. Someone jerked him back just as the floor disappeared in a torrent of concentrated fire from the turrets. One exploded in a shower of metal shards, one of his squad mates using the distraction he provided to get under it and shoot straight up directly into the mechanism. The other turret swiftly followed and not wishing to get bogged down further, the troop surged up and out of the kill zone, sparing only a brief, pain-filled glance at their fallen.
POV: Harry, General Atomics
He couldn't help but regard Jonathan with horror at the battles he described, the worse for it that the man was merely 15 years old when it happened. Harry couldn't conceive of a situation that led to this horrible conflict, but didn't want to disturb Jonathan's story. He rambled a bit, abandoning the story of the 'break out' to briefly describe his life before.
He had been born in the vault, but had no memory of parents. He was with a group of people the same age, other children who had all been born as if in one large batch. They were looked after by cadre, hard eyed men and women in military uniform who drove them to put everything of themselves into every task. By the time he was four, he could strip down and re-assemble any weapon and could quote historical military leaders and summarize the battles they had fought in.
Every day of their lives they were told that greatness awaited them. A grand purpose. They were told of the Great War, and how their beloved nation was even now beset on all sides by horrible mutations and terrible enemies. They were told that they had a destiny to go forth and restore the glorious republic and safeguard the lives of the innocent who still tried, and many times failed, to eke out an existence in the wastelands. They were told that they would be heroes… and what child doesn't dream of growing up to be a hero?
They believed it, all of them, and trained hard their entire lives. They looked on with envy as the graduates formed up one last time before leaving the vault, marching out to the saluting junior classman, each of them dreaming of the day they would graduate and join their brothers and sisters on their glorious mission.
It was a god damn lie.
A graduate, an older boy that Jonathan barely remembered, had told them the truth. He excelled in the sciences but his physical performance fell just short of what was needed to leave the vault with his kin. But his brilliance was needed, the scientists had told him, and so he donned the white coat and took his place among them. They revealed things slowly, never coming out and directly telling him their purpose. He found it himself, quite by accident. His particular talent was with negotiating with computer systems. He stole a few moments on the head researcher's terminal, certain that he would be praised for his ingenuity as he easily bypassed the security. Any thought of praise or reward vanished when his eyes fell upon the departmental memos and the Vault-Tec operating instructions.
"There were but three possible fates awaiting us." Jonathan whispered, almost too quietly for the trio to hear, "If we passed the trials, we would be harvested for our genetic material then killed. If we did not pass, we were killed. In the rare case of the turncoat, we would be brought into the fold as the researchers and trainers to bolster their numbers as they aged and died. None of us were going to be heroes. We were meat."
As to be expected when exposed to that kind of heart killing truth, many of the children snapped into a nearly catatonic state. Others became despondent and depressed. But for Jonathan and a large number of the others, it evoked white hot anger.
So they had escaped, the Vault that they and their forebears have lived and died in for two centuries. Vault 75, the very reason Jonathan was so bent on being the best he could be, to have that heroic destiny that fate conspired to deny him.
Harry and the others were speechless as he continued to talk, gaining some measure of his dignity as he detailed his life after the escape.
Once they reached the surface, the children could not agree on what direction to take. They had spent so long following a strict regimen, following orders to the letter in all things, that the sudden freedom they faced was more daunting than escaping the vault itself. Eventually, they coalesce around charismatic leaders among their number. Each group heading off in different directions in search of some purpose.
His group ran into their first uplanders… a group of people who were impressively also military minded, who wore uniforms and adhered to a strict code of conduct. They called themselves the Gunners. Many of the children, Jonathan included, thought that these men and women must been the remnants of the US military. They were eager to join a group who had an established presence and could give them the comfort of the military discipline they were so used to.
It was good for a time, they belonged and they could contribute for the good of the Commonwealth. However, it became apparent to even the ever optimistic Jonathan that the Gunners were far too ruthless and did not serve out of a sense of duty to the people. They were mercenaries who worked for pay and were not above bending the rules. He had left them before he lost himself as he had seen many of his own people already had done.
He wandered for a time, eventually ending up in the Capital Wasteland where he signed on with the Brotherhood of Steel, admitted under the auspices of the magnanimous Elder Owyn Lyons. Jonathan clearly looked up the man, as he smiled proudly while relating that part of his history. His demeanor changed yet again when he spoke of both the elder and his chosen heir, Sarah Lyons' death. He left shortly after, in a way, running away from his feelings yet again. He came back to the Commonwealth and decided to check in with some friends that were ostensibly still with the Gunners.
Traders eyed him strangely but pointed him the direction of Quincy, a town he had heard of but never visited.
His eyes had closed again and it seemed as though grief and fury waged war within him, his face ticking with the conflicting emotions roiling in his heart.
"They had taken the town. Put its people to the sword and set themselves up as lords of a new fiefdom. They welcomed me, talked to me about how glorious taking the town had been. I was horrified to hear my friends, my comrades speak that way. I told them that they were traitors. They didn't care for that, being reminded of who we once were, who we were promised to be. They argued that as the betrayed, they had a right to forge a new destiny and to hell with those stupid lies. I left… and told them that the next time we meet, I will kill them."
As if eager to wrap up his tale, Jonathan rushed the rest of his tale in a single breath, expelling the words as if divesting himself of a great weight. He rescued the Frosts from some raiders and helped them relocate to a place they had heard about, called Sanctuary. The rest, as they say, is history.
He fell quiet, and Harry couldn't blame him one bit. He saw the life seemed to ebb from the man as his story unfolded until its end, leaving him a tired husk laying listlessly on the sofa. He turned and saw the pity in Daphne's eyes and an unreadable expression in Hermiones'.
The stew was ruined, their attention riveted to Jon's story led Hermione to neglect stirring her concoction. If nothing else good came of the revelation of his history, being spared from having to eat that would be enough. Harry got up and gestured for the others to follow, leaving Jonathan alone to mull over the obviously painful memories.
They assured Ada that everything was fine when the robot queried them once they exited the factory complex. They walked for a time, strolling without destination and keeping the curious machine in sight per her request.
"That was quite the story, eh?" Daphne decided to break the silence, broaching the subject that was on all of their minds.
"Do you believe him?" Hermione murmured, trying to untangle the myriad emotions rampaging through her head.
"I do actually. It's almost too fantastic to be a simply lie. If he wanted to have us all on, then he could have come up with something far simpler than that." Harry mused aloud.
"The real question, at least to me, as how do you feel about him now?" Daphne directed that question to the brunette, who was busily chewing on her lower lip as she thought.
"There's a lot there that clicks into place. It makes sense. I don't know what about his past that made me feel so nervous around him, but hearing his story did help… a bit."
"What? A bit?" Harry asked.
She just shrugged, an apologetic smile on her face indicating that she really didn't know either.
"Are you sure you don't just have a crush on him?" Harry teased.
"What!? I do not!" Hermione huffed, her voice rising in pitch and tone with incredulity.
"Whoah! Whoah! I take it back!" Harry shouted, before Hermione could put her fists to good use punctuating how ridiculous the very idea was.
'I don't have a crush on him.' Hermione thought, '… do I?'
POV: Harry, the next morning
Harry woke with a groan, stretching his arms up above his head to stretch without disturbing Daphne overmuch, who had fallen asleep in his arms. Harry couldn't help but grin, giddy at the beautiful woman whose head was resting on his chest. He glanced over and saw Jonathan grinning at him unabashedly.
They had eaten well, albeit late, after Hermione had tossed out her stew and grudgingly allowed Jonathan to prepare their dinner. Apparently, among his many skills, was the almost wizardly ability to make anything taste good, as the normally rancid and foul tasting mole rat flesh came out tasting like beef wellington. It actually reminded Harry a bit of his Aunt Petunia's cooking, on the rare occasion that he was allowed to eat with the rest of the family while the food was still hot.
They had decided, for the time being at least, to travel together. Hermione had informed them that Jonathan needed to use some equipment at the Red Rocket station just outside of Sanctuary, which he had annexed for his own use. They had obtained some technology from the robo-brain that Ada thought would provide insight into the Mechanist's whereabouts. Unfortunately, they only had the two brooms, and Ada was far too heavy to ride anyway.
They started off, heading north in a generally western bent in the hopes of keeping clear of some super mutants that Jonathan insisted were nearby. They made good time, as the dangers of the Commonwealth seemed to have better things to do that day than molest three magicals, a heavily armed super soldier and a repurposed assaultron.
Around midday, Jonathan held up a fist to stop the group, cocking his head to the side as if listening. Harry listened as well and heard the distinct chatter of not too distant gunfire and the whizz of multiple lasers. Someone was really having it out!
"I'm going to check it out." Jonathan announced, before breaking into a jog, followed quickly by Ada.
"You know, normal people run AWAY from gunshots, you twit!" Hermione shouted after him, clearly exasperated.
All Harry could do is shrug at her in apology before running off after Jonathan, drawing his wand as he went.
"Men." Daphne stated simply, before both she and Hermione hurried to catch up.
Thankfully, they arrived just as the conflict came to an end. A group of dirty looking scavengers were scowling back behind them while shouting curses at their unseen opponents. They fixed Harry and company with dirty looks, with more than a few telling the group to essentially sod off.
Paying the departing scavengers no mind, Jonathan led the way further north through the former battleground, looking for anyone that may have been hurt. He paused and stooped to wipe the dust from a polished metal plate, a plate that turned out to still be attached to a badly battered Mr. Handy.
"What's that then?" Harry asked as he came on the scene.
"Looks like a casualty. Strange that the scavvers didn't grab the scrap, lots of good parts here. In fact, I think it's reparable."
"Do you really think so sir?" Ada asked, always interested when it came to robots.
Harry watched as the man pulled a small rod-like device from his pack and gave the robots power supply a quick jolt from it.
"Hermione, could you?" Jonathan asked, as Hermione and Daphne joined them.
A quick reparo charm from Hermione, and the robot butler was functional again and expressing his abject appreciation for their intervention.
"It's so wonderful to meet friendly civilians! You really must meet Captain Ironsides! I'm sure he'd be happy to reward you for your service to this robot's navy!"
"Captain who?"
"Oh goodness! Where are my manners!? Captain Ironsides would be aggrieved that I haven't maintained proper decorum! Forgive me sirs, and ladies. I am Mr. Lookout. Not to be confused with Mr. Lookout or Mr. Lookout. Good men, though Mr. Lookout is a bit stiff with the newcomers."
Harry waved aside the robot's explanation with a confused but amused smirk, "Alright, where is this Captain Ironsides?"
"Why he's aboard ship of course."
"Ship?" Harry asked.
"Yes sir, the ship." The Mr. Lookout proudly proclaimed, pointing up.
The group gasped almost in unison, for perched on the roof of two adjacent buildings, was a three-masted wooden ship.
POV: Harry, USS Constitution
Captain Ironsides proved to be every bit as mind-boggling as the ship itself, a sentry bot with a captain hat perched atop his head.
"You visit this fine vessel in trying times. Becalmed these long years on her airy perch. Damn you Weatherby Savings & Loan! I spit at you!"
Harry had been trying and failing to keep the sheer absurdity at bay and not laughing out loud. The most he could manage was to stifle the giggles he had during the conversation with the captain and crew of the USS Constitution. Jonathan went on and on about it, as apparently, pre-war history was a major subject in Vault 75.
Hermione seemed to be the only one listening to him, but only somewhat, as she examined the ancient frigate and mumbled some noncommittal response at seemingly appropriate times while he excitedly rambled.
The tone of the conservation in front of him seemed to have changed, so Harry redirected his attention to the good Captain. Daphne nudging him in the ribs had nothing to do with it. The captain seemed to be listing off a series of necessary repairs and parts that proud frigate required in order to blast off from its perch and head for open sea… Harry diplomatically declined to mention the massive gaping hole in the side that would render any landing in water a singular phenomenon.
"I think that's definitely something we can do for you, Captain." Harry replied, "In fact, Jonathan here is a whiz with machinery and the rest of us can perhaps do something to augment your ship and make it truly airborne."
"Sir! If you could do that, why… I'd be obliged to place myself and my crew at your disposal!"
An alarm suddenly blared, cutting off any subsequent reply as one of the Mr. Lookouts pointed a clawed hand out towards the Boston ruins. A high pitched whistle buzzed near Harry's ear, letting him know that someone was shooting at them.
"Enemies to port! Stand to, you scalawags and show them what for!" The Captain shouted, urging his crew.
Despite their numbers, few of the robots, save for the captain himself, were combat models. They mostly fretted about though some managed to return fire in the appropriate direction. Thankfully, not only did they have a trio of powerful magic wielders aboard, but they also had a bonafide super soldier. Hermione opened up her bag so that they could retrieve their brooms and fly off down at the attacking scavengers.
Harry and Daphne girded themselves with shielding charms and proceeded to unleash havoc on the unwitting scavengers, the robots on the frigate pausing in their frenetic activity and attempted to cogitate the mysterious abilities of the two flying people. Hermione sealed up her bag and rushed to the edge of the ship, her wand raised and her eyes alight with a fierce aspect. She blasted the buildings where the scavengers attempted to hide from Harry and Daphne's wrath, bringing crumbling buildings down on their heads.
Jonathan peered down and saw that there was a group just beneath them, attempting to stealthily enter the ship and wreak their unique brand of chaos on the lower decks. With a wink at Hermione, he vaulted the side of the ship and plummeted several yards to the broken street below. Hermione gasped as she rushed over to where he had recklessly leapt. He landed with a roll and drew his favored sidearm, a heavily modified .44 magnum with black and red flames painted onto it. Six shots, six seconds and six dead scavengers later, he gave Hermione a friendly wave and rushed off to help Harry and Daphne mop up the fleeing vagabonds.
She turned as the deck shook beneath the tread of her captain, and smiled benignly at the military-grade artillery machine. It looked down at her and somehow managed to tip its hat as if in salute.
"My word! You civilians are quite handy to have in a pinch! I must say I've never seen a human do those sorts of things before."
"That's because we're witches… or wizard in Harry's case." Hermione stated slowly, wondering what the robot's reaction would be.
"Whatever you are, you are certainly a boon to this old robot's Navy!" It proclaimed, waving its 'hands' in the air.
Harry arrived back to the astonished and excited Captain Ironsides, who proudly proclaimed that he and his crew would be proud to fight under his banner, whether the ship was repaired or not. Though they all agreed that repairing the ship would be the best use of a crew of naval minded robots.
Jonathan would make the repairs to the power cables then go to Bunker Hill to find a replacement power relay coil. Meanwhile, the others would start to research the best way to apply their magical expertise to the task of helping the Constitution fly. To that end, Hermione rummaged through her bag and produced a number of volumes that would help, one of them her own notes on the ship which brought the Durmstrang Institute students during the Triwizard tournament years ago. Though that ship didn't fly, it proved a good resource for how to enchant a ship of similar size.
The three were in good cheer, with the Captain and his crew being excellent hosts and assistants as they worked. Lights strung across the rigging lit up as the sun bid them farewell and a cold breeze announced the death of day. Ironsides offered the use of his cabin, since he couldn't fit in it anyway and the robots had no need of sleep or rest.
Though the company was pleasant and the food agreeable, Hermione couldn't help wondering how Jonathan was doing. Her pensive look was not lost on Harry or Daphne, and they couldn't resist teasing her a little about her 'crush'. Though she denied it, her vehemence at the idea seemed much more restrained than it had at the factory.
The exhausted trio finally turned in for the night, Hermione sharing the bunk with Daphne while Harry made do with a sleeping roll on the floor. He and Daphne both were kept awake however, by Hermione tossing and murmuring in her sleep. Something clearly weighed on her mind though neither of them could begin to guess what that was.
POV: Jonathan, Boston ruins
It was a lovely day, which despite the context of walking over detritus of centuries of decay, actually managed to lift Jonathan's spirits as he walked purposefully back to the Constitution. The deal at Bunker Hill went well and his pack was welcomingly burdened with a suitable power relay coil. The sky was clear, no raiders or mutated beasts rose up to challenge him and he was on his way back to contribute positive change to the Commonwealth. Granted, bartering for a cylinder of coiled copper was not heroic work, though he was humble enough to be happy with even that labor.
It seemed as though his luck would hold, as the Savings and Loans building which propped up the ancient frigate came into view. He felt an odd sort of warmth spread through his cheeks as he beheld the old wooden ship, a feeling which surely had nothing to do with the grumpy brunette who awaited his return.
Well, perhaps that was being too liberal, as she surely wasn't waiting for him per se. He was lost in thought as he traversed the ruined building to enter the gaping hole in the hull. He nodded in satisfaction that several robots were in the lower hold assessing the hole, having been told in no uncertain terms that the breach must be repaired before the ship launched.
A few minutes later found the death of that good mood as an irate General looked rancorously at the Navigator, who informed him that he also required a part to complete his systems.
"I was just at Bunker Hill, you couldn't have mentioned that you needed this part beforehand?"
"Sorry sir, I wasn't informed of your departure and therefore could not seek you out to request the chip."
Jonathan replied through gritted teeth, "Alright fine, what is it that you need?"
After a terse head nod that affirmed the taciturn general's acquiescence, he headed off to make sure that there were no other requests before he left… again.
In his grumbling acrimony, he was less than ideally careful about where he was going and collided with a certain young brunette women. She yelped as she fell back and only his fast reflexes kept her from tumbling down the stairs leading below decks. He steadied a stunned Hermione, who still reeled from the collision.
She shook off her stupor and looked up at his concerned face, his arms still wrapped around her waist. She appreciated his warmth for the barest of moments before pushing him from her and summoning up a suitably angry glare. She smacked him in the arm with the heavy book she had been carrying and hurried past him in a huff, leaving the man gobsmacked. A barely stifled giggle drew his eye toward Harry and Daphne, who were sitting nearby with stacks of books piled up around their knees. He frowned at them and huffed off himself, his mood thoroughly ruined.
POV: Harry, aboard the USS Constitution
They had been making good progress, the ancient vessel being very open to the magic that the three of them were pouring into the frame of the frigate. Harry had been a little worried, as he had read that objects not specifically created to carry an enchantment, or built by muggles, would be resistant to the type of magic they were trying. It reminded him a little of the Weasley's flying car, whose temperamental yet ultimately loyal behavior showcased how magic and muggle engineering could often produce interesting results.
He passed Daphne as she bent over a strut, passing her wand over it to reinforce the old wood before applying the charms that would enable the ship to defy gravity. He squeezed past unnecessarily closely, given that there was plenty of room for him, pressing himself against her soft female backside. She gasped and turned toward him, blushing when she saw that it was him and coyly wiggling her bottom as he passed. He caught Hermione's eye as he continued through the hull, her questioning eyebrow lift met with a shrug and wide grin. She smiled back, though it didn't quite meet her eyes… the worry lines marring her face clearly indicating that she wondered how her traveling companion was doing on his second run to Bunker Hill.
They had been working through the morning, suffusing the lower hull with charms designed to enable the ship to defy gravity and float as if it were made of paper. Once Jonathan completed the repairs to the guidance systems and rocket engines, the ship should have little problem cutting through the air like the jet aircraft of old. They had drawn up plans, or more specifically, Hermione drew up the plans for the series of charms that would be necessary. Her keen intellect catching onto subtle details that the he and Daphne would have missed otherwise. The inclusion of a breathable air bubble, wind shield and charms to keep the deck warm even at high altitude as examples.
Captain Ironsides had been thrilled at the changes they were making, and was looking forward to Jonathan finishing his replacements and repairs, confident that the proud girl would be taking to the skies in a matter of days. He had altered his mission from simply landing in the bay to placing his ship and crew under Harry's command. If all went well…
POV: Jonathan, Scavenger camp
He knew that things had been going too well yesterday. The overly dramatic grumpiness he had experienced at being sent back to Bunker Hill was merely a prologue to the difficulties he was going to have. He had tried to barter for the guidance chip, but was told in no uncertain terms that the only one the traders there knew of belonged to the scavengers camped outside of the frigate itself and that they had thus far been unwilling to part with it, convinced it had greater value than it would otherwise imply.
He had questioned them intently, wringing every bit of information he could of any other recourse. It boiled down to two options: Falsely joining the scavengers to obtain the part only to turn on them later or to simply take it by stealth or force. Considering the reception his group had gotten from them on the first day, and that he had personally killed six of them, he doubted that the survivors would be amenable to his joining them. That left taking it by force or stealing it from under their nose. Which put him in his present predicament, looking over the scavenger stronghold and the large number of reinforcements they had received.
Their lookouts were well-placed and covered every possible avenue of approach. He was pretty good at walking soft, but he doubted that he would be able to get in and out undetected even in the best of conditions. With bright sunlight streaming in and multiple traps and turrets spaced around their complex within the ruined building, these were not the best of conditions. This was going to get messy.
POV: Harry, USS Constitution lower decks
Dust wafted down around him as the ship trembled. He looked at his wand in confusion as the charm he had just used shouldn't have made the ship move like that. Maybe one of the girls? He looked around and saw that both of them were similarly perplexed and were looking to him for answers. He stood up and opened his mouth to speak when another, stronger tremor rocked the ship slightly.
"ATTENTION ON DECK! All hands to battle stations!" Came the roar of Captain Ironsides as his treads cut scuff marks on the polished wood of the deck.
The trio rushed topside, stumbling slightly as another tremor made the ship list to port very slightly. The Captain and several of his crew were standing at the starboard rail, presumably looking out over the Boston ruins. As the trio rushed to the rail to see what was happening, a jolt sent a shockwave through the deck as a massive plume of dust and smoke rose into the air. The ship listed slightly to starboard, bringing it back to an even position and throwing Daphne against the rail. Harry latched onto her waist as her head and shoulders swept over the railing, pulling her back against him and grabbing onto a belaying pin.
A rapid series of four explosions rattled through the building where the crew suspected that the scavengers were hiding out between raids. Pulling Hermione over to stand next to Daphne, Harry rushed off in a whirl. The girls looked around perplexed, yelping in consternation as he ran past them to vault over the rail, his broom in hand.
Again, Harry showcased his broom skills as he expertly mounted the broom in mid-fall and shot off toward the chaos erupting a mere two blocks over. He disillusioned himself with a simple wand wave as he approached the cloud of dust hanging over the scene. He narrowly ducked as a screaming scavenger cartwheeled through the air nearly bashing in his head with a swinging boot. Harry gaped after the man, watching as he fell in an arc to impact painfully on the rubble strewn street. He heard the mechanical whirring of some kind of turret just before another fusillade of four missile arced out from it to detonate mere yards away against the very building it was placed to defend. A black streak rushed past an open window and another scavenger was brutally tossed out, this one screaming for the few of seconds it took for him to hit the ground in a crumpled mess.
Harry couldn't make heads or tails of what was happening, so he summoned a strong wind to blow the obscuring cloud of dust away. Which turned out to be a mistake as the turret suddenly swiveled to direct the next salvo at his position. He jetted to the side and rose up before the four missiles left the turret, the eruption of fire singeing his back as he swept around the building and tried to come in from a different angle. He hovered above the scene and was amazed to see Jonathan vault out of a window and land on the pedestal that the turret was occupying. The turret turned to face him but was stopped in its tracks as the General grabbed the swinging barrel and kept it from completing its turn. It protested wildly, sparks flying from the mechanism as the General swore and heaved. Eventually, the innate strength of the man overpowered the gear assembly, the top of the turret snapping free of its base to tumble powerless from its perch. Harry could only wave numbly back as Jonathan cheerfully greeted him, the man's face a mask of blood and grime.
Harry landed a moment later, urged in by Jonathan who had apparently cleared out the encampment alone.
"Heya Harry! I'm glad you're here. You have some kind of wand waving you can do to find a guidance chip?"
Too dumbfounded to ask why, Harry did as he was bid and accio'd the device the man was after. Luckily, it was only nestled in a scavenger's pocket and not locked away in a trunk or safe as it pulled free from one of the unlucky souls laying in the dirt to fly up into his hand. He handed it over to a triumphant Jonathan who held it up with a gleaming smile, before falling headfirst into Harry, who struggled to hold up the very heavy man.
A few minutes and a stimpack later, a rejuvenated Jonathan gratefully accepted a bottle of water from Harry, swishing it around in his mouth to rid himself of the dirt he had apparently eaten sometime during his assault.
"Do me a favor, don't tell anyone about this… especially Herm…"
"Tell anyone about what? About how you are a reckless fool of a man?!" Hermione shouted as she and Daphne walked up.
Jonathan visibly paled and Harry reached out a hand to steady him, sympathy clear on his face as someone who has also been the focus of Hermione's ire.
Harry held up a hand to forestall her tirade, "The man's hurt Hermione, let's get him seen to before we grill him about what in the world all this was about."
She harrumphed but listened to Harry's advice, something that he wasn't expecting at all. He stepped back in surprise as Hermione came up and took the General's arm over her shoulder and helped support him as they walked back to the ship. He shrugged at Daphne who only smiled at him in a way that said, 'Woman stuff, you wouldn't understand.'
A few hours and a hearty meal later, Jonathan regaled them with the tale of his exploits, the story punctuated by shocked and less than cordial responses from Hermione. Harry was concerned at the somewhat reckless behavior the man exhibited. Though he had been bred specifically to be the ultimate expression of humanity, that didn't make him bullet proof. Notwithstanding his importance to the hundreds of settlers and scores of minutemen who fell under his command, Harry considered him to be a friend and he never did find a way to be comfortable with friends putting themselves in harm's way.
"Why are you so thick!" Hermione shouted at last, "You could have come back and gotten the rest of us, me at least! I would've helped you!"
As if bursting from a long beleaguered dam, Jon exploded, "Because I don't want you to get hurt! I couldn't bear it!"
Harry looked away as he spotted what looked like moisture gathering in the General's eyes. The man had faced nearly unsurmountable odds and had always come out on top. To see him so undone within moments by a woman almost half his weight and standing a mere 5'5" was disconcerting. He felt more than saw the General rise to his feet and walk off, his footfalls soft and shuffling against the wood as if ashamed of his outburst.
Harry reached out to restrain Hermione as she rose, "Best to let him go for a bit. Talk to him when he calms down."
Hermione nodded and plopped back down next to him, absently staring into the small fire they had lit in the portable grill to stave off the chill of the deepening night.
The opportunity for them to talk didn't come that night, as Harry pushed the girls into helping him finish their work. Now that Jonathan was able to get the guidance chip, they were nearly ready. Harry witnessed the defeated slump in the General's shoulders as he made his report to the Captain, only to be told that there was not one, but two more parts that were needed.
Harry rushed over before the General had a chance to leave, "What parts do you still need Captain?"
Harry held up a hand to shush the tired man before he could interject.
"As I was telling the General here, Mr. Navigator informs me that the old girl needs a new radar transmitter and the Bosun has reported me that the FLL3 turbopump bearings have disintegrated and need to be replaced. All systems are go for launch! As soon as these parts are replaced and the modifications you are making are complete, that is."
"Jonathan, Daphne and I will get the parts. Hermione can finish up the on the runes and you can supervise the repair of the hole in the hull."
At that point, all the robots had managed to do was to make the hole bigger, but at least the edges were smoothed out.
Jonathan made out to argue the point, but quieted with a nod when Harry explained that he needed to see to the shambles he and Hermione had made of their working relationship. Or just give her a good snogging and get it over it.
Once Harry explained what snogging was, Jonathan almost looked gutted. He sputtered and protested until Harry shut him up, "Oh come off it mate. You fancy her, she fancies you. Stop faffing around and get to it or shut up about it. Either way, just get on!"
Harry walked off, triumphant at what he thought was the perfect solution to the micro-drama between the two. Daphne even agreed, which made it as good as done as far as Harry was concerned. They cleared things with Hermione before setting off to find the transmitter at some place called Poseidon Energy Turbine 18-F then to find the bearings… which surprisingly was rumored to be at the very General Atomics Factory they had already cleared.
POV: Jonathan, USS Constitution
It took the better part of that day and most of the next before he worked up the courage to confront Hermione.
He found her in the captain's cabin, her hair constantly falling over her face as she bent over a book in her lap, her lips moving silently in thought. She brushed it back and he couldn't help but to stop and stare, whatever words that he had prepared dying in his throat. He shifted as she turned her head to the side, her face momentarily lost behind her unruly mop of hair. The floorboards creaked beneath his weight and her head snapped up at the noise, Jonathan spluttering as he found himself in her intense gaze.
"I, uh… just wanted to apologize. For my outburst. I didn't mean to imply that you weren't capable or anything. I, hell… I'm not sure what I was trying to say then."
"It doesn't sound like you are sure about what you're trying to say now." She said softly.
He cleared his throat and tried to find his bearing, "I just meant that I'm sorry and that I am glad to have you with me. I hope that we can continue on as before, I'd hate to lose you… er, as part of my team."
"Your team?" She whispered, her tone of regret completely missed by the nervous man.
"Yes. You are an amazing witch and I can't begin to tell you how wonderful it's been having you with me. We make a great team. We can do a lot for our communities by working together. I just hope that you can overlook my immature outburst and find it in your heart to forgive me."
The silence that hung between them was pregnant with the tension of things left unsaid. Both of them certain that the burgeoning feelings they had were unrequited by the other.
Hermione nodded slowly, "Of course. We should keep working together. After all, we still have to stop the Mechanist." She laughed awkwardly, hoping that her voice wouldn't break.
He laughed in answer, his equally forced and nervous, "You're right. I'll… leave you to your… reading. I'm glad we had this talk, and… thank you."
He left, not quite in a hurry though his heart was pounding as he shut the door behind him. He stopped and rested his head against the door, cursing himself for his cowardice.
On the other side of the door, Hermione let the book fall from nerveless fingers and sat back as a resigned sadness swam in her soft brown eyes.
A/N: I'm sorry that this update took so long to come out. Between finals and the holidays, there was little time to indulge in my favorite pastime. Since it had been so long since my last update, I can only hope that the tone of this update isn't too far off from what you are used to. I think I may have given too much attention to Jonathan's POV but there won't be too many more like that. More than anything, I wanted to firmly establish some background for my major OC character. Not saying that he won't have some major roles, but aside from this chapter, the bulk of future updates will focus on Harry. The next update will not take as long as this one, so look for something in a couple of weeks. I am still dividing my time between this fic and my, 'Fall of Phaeton' storyline. Please read and review. Thank you!