Mayors, Maps and Mirelurks

It was strange. For what felt like years I had the potion project to work on, to fill my daily routine of worries and wonders. Then, when it was over, and I returned to the clinic, it was not long before I found myself missing the frustrations of that project. At least then, I was safe, and things made sense.

Anxiety was a strange thing.

Despite it all, despite his efforts and the progress he had made, Martin felt no greater emotion, standing in the front room to the mayor's office. Sweaty hands clasped around the glass shell of a refurbished nuka-cola bottle, its contents swirling around in a reddish haze, a liquid that almost seemed to give off its own light, rather than merely reflecting what was shone upon it.

It was his first time presenting the fruits of his work as a potioneer, such as they were, beyond the relative safety-net of the Institute's laboratorium. Here, he had no such reassurances. There was no instructor to help him alleviate mistakes, no extra supplies to reattempt a failed experiment. Instead, he had only his own skills to rely upon, painstakingly learned through years of toil and stress.

At least he wouldn't have to stand around, waiting for the audience. Seats were lined along the walls, where partitioners for the Lord Mayor's attention sat, awaiting his time. There were a few others, mostly men and women dressed to the standards of the higher stands, such as it was called. Diamond City's higher society was just that, higher up. Nothing, as far as he could tell, separated them from the people at the bottom, but their coin and physical elevation in the old stadium. None of them, to his knowledge, descended from old, noble bloodlines, or could lay claim to vast tracts of land.

"Mr. Smith?"

And yet he still felt self-conscious, in their presence. Judgemental stares reminded him of his own, mediocre attire, compared to their spotless and immaculate gowns, jackets and dresses. They looked like the people on the pre-War papers he'd seen still decorating walls in the stands below. He himself only had the clothes he'd worn when arriving in the Wasteland, the jacket he had found in the tunnels, and the clinic's white aprons.

"Mr. Smith?" The tone was taking on an edge of annoyance now. Martin started, realizing with some shame that more than one head had turned to look his way, no longer for the sake of his clothes. The woman behind the desk, Piper had called her Geneva, looked to him now, a frown setting in; "Mr. Smith, the Mayor will see you now."

Smith. Smith. No one had called him that since his last visit here, so long ago now that it felt like years. He'd entirely forgotten Piper's made-up surname for him. He stood at once, almost dropping the bottle in his haste, and made his way to the door.

One of the guards opened it, allowing him through before the heavy wood closed shut once more, almost like some ominous portent. McDonough stood at the windows, gazing out across his town like a king sighting his own castle. Martin remained at the door, awaiting permission to approach.

"Ah, Doctor Smith," the mayor greeted him, a warm smile on his face as he beckoned Martin closer, himself taking a seat at the main desk. There was a chair across it too, more luxurious than the one in the clinic; "Please, take a seat, take a seat. Now, I understand you have something for me?"

With some apprehension, he sat, still clutching the bottle like it was his infant child. McDonough seemed entirely comfortable with allowing him to speak first, in no real, apparent hurry. The people outside, however, reminded Martin that there was a set amount of time he could take up.

"Yes, sir," he nodded, swallowing before placing down the bottle on the mayor's desk. The impact shook up its contents, and the man's brows rose in what seemed like surprise, if mild at that; "It has most of the same properties of a stim, but some are more potent. It can be ingested or applied directly to a wound, the effect will be much the same. I have already made test, it works."

The mayor said nothing, at first. A brow rose in what seemed like polite disbelief, though fortunately enough interest had been expressed already at their previous meeting that Martin did not take it as immediate dismissal.

"Very few can still remember how pre-war medicine was made," finally the man spoke, a more serious tone to his words than before. It caught Martin off guard, with the change to the mayor's entire demeanor; "Diamond City, of course, manages. We have extensive storages and do enough trade to keep our supplies. I make sure our community lacks for nothing, you see."

"I understand."

"When you first came into my office with the idea of a new kind of medicine, I must admit to some skepticism. You understand, of course, my badge of office requires that I, uhm, maintain such skepticism, but also that I recognize a potential benefit to the greater good."

Again, he nodded, all too aware that the man before him enjoyed a monologue. Piper had made fun of that particular tendency enough times that he'd come prepared. It was difficult to read the mayor, for he presented an appearance often so contrary to how Piper described him. The man was hugely charismatic, and Martin knew he could have been utterly swayed if not for his hostess' words of warning.

"And the task of weighing potential gains, benefits for the wider community, against the costs and sacrifices we must make to obtain them," something seemed to shift in the mayor's expression, though it was so brief and slight, Martin had no chance to read it, before the man's face once more was the same amicable and almost grandfatherly expression as before; "You have wondered, no doubt, as to why the clinic has not seen many visitors since we embarked upon this project of yours?"

"...I have," he admitted, when it was clear McDonough sought a reply, and the one he gave seemed to please; "Only one patient has come in the entire time. I did not understand why, with a settlement of this size. There are other clinics?"

"I'm afraid Dr. Sun's... or, yours, I suppose, is the only one," the mayor gravely sighed; "The supply of certified doctors is even scarcer than the supply of medicine, sadly. We cannot entrust our citizens to the whims of any shaman or drug-dealing healer wandering in through the gate. Dr. Sun vouched for your qualifications, though."

"Has there..." now was as good a time as any to inquire, and the mayor seemed agreeable to such questions, for now at least. Still, the idea of getting closure of sorts on the matter was one that he hesitated at; "...has there been any news on Dr. Sun? He has not come to the clinic since..."

"Since the Quincy matter, yes," McDonough nodded, his expression bland; "I fear we are as much in the dark as you, on this. Dr. Sun left us no notice, nor has security found any trace of him at his home address. For all intents and purposes, the man has vanished, likely into the wider Commonwealth... I understand that you have settled in well enough?"

The change in topic, if it was such, was a surprise, though one he had to some degree worried all the same would come. It tied in again with his future here. What he would do, from here on and out. The worst of it was his own inability to seriously plan for it, for it felt as if he betrayed his home, if he started making such plans at all.

"Yes," he could say nothing of all these thoughts, of course. Not to Piper, not to Natalie, and certainly not to the mayor, whom he did not trust beyond the honor of his office; "It has been quiet, much of the time. I do not know why."

"I authorized the office to release a small kit of the most essential supplies, medical supplies, that is, to each household in Diamond City," McDonough explained, and seemed to take pride in doing so; "It was a significant, but not too severe, investment from our side, in the hope that whatever came from your work would be worth it. Unless people were suffering something truly serious, they would have been able to handle such matters themselves, without bothering or intruding upon your work."

"That is why I have had no patients..." Martin nodded, understanding dawning. This made more sense than any scenario he had expected, and more than before it made it evident that the mayor had indeed put in a serious investment into his work. Now, fortunately, by the grace of the gods he could deliver the results in turn; "I understand. I appreciate the investment."

"Well, yes, we thought it might serve to give you some time and peace," the mayor said quickly, eyes falling to the bottle before him; "You claim this red juice has all the traits of a stimpack? How did you test it?"

"Personally," it was not a small amount of pride with which he could glance to his arm, and see no trace remained of the cut; "I applied to a fresh cut, and observed the effect, sir. I can demonstrate if you wish?"

"I, ah, I'm afraid I am not in immediate need..."

"On myself, I meant," when he drew forth the knife, one of the guards reacted, hand reaching for a large firearm slung to his hips. Martin winced at the sudden aggression, and knew it was his own fault. McDonough, fortunately, seemed to understand, and waved the guard off. Still, the look he then gave Martin was enough to dispel any notions of levity.

"Am I to understand, Doctor, that you intend on cutting yourself, here, in my office, to prove your miracle-mixture works?"

Why was he making it sound like a silly notion? Martin took a moment to process the question. He did not intend on wasting the mayor's time, so it had seemed the more prudent choice than to ask the man to accompany him to the clinic, and he could think of no better immediate manner to prove the truth of his words than to demonstrate.

"Yes?"

The lift to the Mayor's office was an instrument of ever-present nausea. And wonder. Wonder, that such a contraption could still function, for all the rust, wear and tear so visibly present on every part. The machine itself did not strike him as pre-War, rather as something makeshift that had been installed after the ancient arena had been converted into a walled town. In lack of a raised keep, what had once been the spectator stand for the richest was now... well, it essentially served the same purpose as before. There was an interesting, if not poetic, irony to how little the end of a civilization truly did impact those with means.

A shame then, that those means had not been spent improving and maintaining the lift. Each turn of the wheels, spinning and cranking of the cables, he wondered if this was the moment they would snap, or some bolt would come loose and send the platform crashing to the floor below in its entirety, passengers be damned.

When it finally came to a stop, and the guard, his expression no doubt one of smugness at the sight of Martin's discomfort with the lift, opened the hatch, it was with great relief that his feet once more found the somewhat safer grates of the raised platform, themselves secure on steel beams. Martin had long ago decided he was a man of the ground, of the soil, rather than the skies and towers. Safer, that way.

There was a small sign where the main street took a detour, branching off to lead a path towards the lift. It was little more than a wooden plaque, on which was written 'Mayor's Office' and a large, white arrow. Piper stood there, awaiting his return with a posture against the wall that spoke of ease of mind and confidence. She seemed amused, and Martin caught himself staring at her. Last night yet still played on his mind, every moment he was not distracted it came back.

"Can't get used to it, can you?" she grinned, nodding at the lift behind him, already rising back up towards the spectator booth. It seemed she misinterpreted his gaze, for which he was not sure if he should be grateful or not. He still remembered the sensation, her leaning in against him, and the soft sound of her snores. Quickly, he pushed the memory back, else it might lead his steps.

"I am familiar with lifts," he shrugged, though neglecting that at home there had only been those used by treadmill cranes to haul men and material around scaffolding, or into mines. The idea of using lifts in homes, or public buildings, had never seemingly occured; "I just... do not like high places."

"You're afraid of heights? Huh, go figure," Piper waited for him to come alongside her, then smiled and pushed off the wall, gloved hands sliding over tarnished wood. The sound was...odd. Her smile was brighter than he'd expected, as if she'd known already the outcome of his meeting with McDonough. Well, most of the outcome anyway, yet she still asked. She started walking and he followed, alongside in the sun. He wondered how much longer such weather would last, given Hearthfire was approaching its last days; "So, how'd it go up there?"

"The Mayor seemed... satisfactor... Satisfied, yes," He didn't quite have all the nuances of Common down, yet, but at least the errors were getting fewer and far between. Honestly he should be allowed some pride for that, given he'd only started learning Common when he got to the Imperial City. So much for Nibenese homeschooling... "He will look where the reagents came from, so... I don't have to do that, I guess? He was happy, yes, I demonstrated the potion."

"I'm sure McDonough wet himself at the sight of blood," she snickered, stretching her hands to the skies like a cat done with lazing in the sun. Martin found his eyes lingering on her left, his own fingers itching for... something, maybe to hold it. The thought was nice, terrifying in its own weird way. A month ago he'd have thought nothing of it, now though there were different thoughts, different desires... They still frustrated him; "So, that's it then? Job done, homework delivered? You can take a breather?"

"Almost," her smile, wide and warm, faded a little, though it remained. Instead, quizzical, awaiting some sort of explanation, one he himself did not yet know enough to give; "There is a list, Sun had it. It was the places, the settlements that need to be visited. With Sun gone, I must visit them instead."

"Okayy, that's not ominous at all..." though she gave him a glance that said much, neither stopped walking. The clinic was close by, and he needed to find the list, unless Sun really had taken it with him. If fortunes were good, he had, for it would save Martin much trouble. At least, for now. In truth it would likely just postpone them; "Any idea which? There's a lot of them out there, Commonwealth's a big place."

The clinic lay ahead, suddenly evoking feelings different than before. No longer did he feel a sense of apprehension, and anxiety, from the sight of it. No longer was it a place where he would go to fail. Rather, it was with almost with a sense of fondness that he could now look upon its rust-colored metal roof and time-weathered walls. It had become the place of his triumphs, not of his failings.

"The list will say," he answered her, though not as readily as he might have liked, for in truth he had no idea if Sun had brought it with him, or if it was still there, in some cupboard or drawer he'd not yet looked through; "If it is still there."

"You're thinking Sun took it with him?" the fact that she didn't seem at all perturbed by his expression made him wonder if he truly was so easy to read, or if her thoughts merely went along the same paths. He wouldn't mind either; "Maybe he just couldn't stand living in settlements anymore, after Quincy? Decided to become a wandering doctor? There's a few of them, out there."

"Much as I find Diamond City a rusten pit of human ailments..." his chuckle bore little mirth, accompanying the appropriately rusten sound of a poorly maintained lock. The clinic door swung open with some ease, its creaking hinges a familiar sound by now; "I'd rather be inside its walls than not. It is not Imperial City, but is safer than out there."

"It is pretty much a slum, I'll give you that," Piper sighed, sauntering inside. He'd not been here since finishing the potions, and the place still bore the faint smell of smoke and boiling mixture. The closest equivalent he could think of was setting a piece of soap aflame; "It's still got its charms though."

Martin glanced back at her, trying to work out if she was hinting at something specific. Instead he paused, finding her bathed in the sunlight reflected off the glass instruments. It almost turned her hair a reddish color, and seemed to warm the very air around her. Taa e ubava...

"It does," something about the sight made his chest flutter, and his stomach lightened. He only really noticed how it had sounded when Piper averted her eyes, her smile becoming outright sheepish. He was venturing on thinner and thinner ice, and he knew it, bordering on breaking through to some unknown pit underneath. He forced himself to focus, almost physically dragging himself and his attention back to the clinic desk; "...I've not been through much of Sun's drawers."

"I... his... his drawers? Right, his... yeah, those..." Piper muttered, as if brought out of thoughts. She knelt down next to the desk and started pulling out drawers, each with nought but stacks of paper within. Still she did not seek his gaze, though in turn he could not readily have met hers in this moment. Why had he even said that? Why did he have to say that out loud? He hadn't even meant to, it just- "Hey, I found Sun's diploma... why's it torn?"

"His... oh," Martin accepted the paper, the same piece Sun had once shown him. It was the man's credentials, his journeyman's papers. Back then the demonstrated had been brief, to prove a point, that Sun was indeed qualified, but now... now it seemed odd, that it would be torn. It was clear some text was missing, above where the man's name and degree was listed; "...what is supposed to be above here? In the torn part?"

"Usually I'd say the place he was trained," Piper took the paper back with deft hand, frowning at it as if it had interrupted something. Seeing her chew her lip in thought, another rush of thoughts and images all but assaulted Martin, and he had to blink and look away. And then back again, for his eyes did not obey him. Luckily she no longer presented the same visage, instead rising to a stand; "Don't really know why he'd tear it off. Guess the man had a past, or didn't like his school."

Her words did make him stop, and ponder. Fortunately he was yet capable of such, not overcome completely by her mere presence. Why did she suddenly have such an effect on him, that her simply being near could shut him down? More importantly, however...

"Where can you even get medical education now?" he could think of no place he'd seen or heard of in this land, maybe aside from Quincy. Sun did react strongly to the news of its demise, and he vanished shortly after; "Quincy?"

"Quincy did have a hospital," Piper noted; "And a school... I think. Diamond City's pretty unique now...I still don't get why he would tear up the diploma but still keep it around."

He could add little to that, having drawn much the same conclusions after hearing of Quincy's importance. It was entirely likely that Sun, being from Quincy, had also been trained there. He knelt down himself and started going through the drawers, one by one. Stacks of paper, much of it little but records of medicine use and supply, patient records, bills for the mayor's office...

"Found it," Elation, and some trepidation, as he fished out a small calender-like set of notes. It was a brown, leathery envelope with the words 'Settlement Visitations' marked in fat block-print on the front. The trepidation was mostly born of the knowledge that the words within could send him to the Glowing Sea, probably, or somewhere so far north that he'd likely never see Diamond City again. The last part left him with a foul aftertaste. And dread. Unexpected dread, that he might never see-

"Lemme see," Piper, breaking from thoughts to reality, scooted over, dumping herself next to him. Mere inches were between them when she leaned in to better see. Martin steeled his eyes back on the envelope, fumbling fingers fighting with its contents until he had a folded-up piece of parchment unfurled. It was a list of names, settlements likely, and dates on the Commonwealth calender that he could not yet quite remember. It was made no easier for the smell of her, so very close, and bordering on the intoxicating; "What's today"?

"Twenty-eighth of Hearthfire," it was a moment before he realized the name meant little to her, and noticed the sideways glance she gave him. He'd not made much of an effort in teaching them the Imperial Calendar; "Uhm, twenty-eight of september"

"September, that makes... Right," her finger slid down the rows of names, stopping at one from the first of september. A place called Jamaica Plains; "Gonna have to cross out the settlements no longer there, you know. Jamaica Plains was one of the southern ones, close to Quincy. Gunners took it."

Considering what Garvey had said about the group, Martin held little in the ways of hope for those who had called that place home. At best, they might have fled north. Piper's next words dispelled his optimism, for they were thick with discomfort.

"Next one's Greentop Nursery..." she dropped the list and slumped back against the wall, a breath of frustration loud from her lips. It did little for his confidence; "Six days from now."

He slumped back as well, worried as he looked upon her. Eyes closed in a frown and lips moving in silent words, he both wanted to and not know what was left unspoken. Necessity trumped the latter.

"Where is that?"

"It's a pre-War natural reserve, up north," she muttered, dark eyes opening, only to glare at the piece of paper, now discarded on the floor; "Up past Malden. It's the main agricultural producer of the northern Commonwealth, used to be pretty big once. Proper large farmstead, logging camps, cattle, all that."

"Used to be?"

"Word is, super mutants took up residence in the Everett Estates, and at the old Revere Satellite Array, so now caravaners don't go the straight road anymore," Piper had no map, but instead seemed to remember it well enough that she could scratch it out in the thin layer of dust on the floor; "They all use the Tucker Memorial Bridge now, up through Covenant. Adds half a day to the trip."

Super mutants. Martin repressed a shudder, for he still remembered the brutish creature that had near murdered Piper the day he met her. A mockery of a human being, bereft of all compassion, a beast that yet retained the ability to speak, and then only to mock and laugh at its victims. Their existence was proof that Daedric influence prevailed in this land, for no natural thing could be so purely evil. Killing the one he had seen had taken more than any man or mer would have survived.

It was an unwelcome reminder, and he did not like the idea of going anywhere that brought him closer to such creatures. Piper spoke no more, and had once again closed her eyes to a world so evil that it would contain those monsters. He wondered if she was thinking back to the day they met, and how they almost hadn't. More than for himself, in this moment he suddenly worried for her.

"I can handle that," he didn't know if it was the right thing to say, or if he actually could, in a full-on fight. Those things were said to carry firearms too, large enough to tear a man apart. He'd only killed an unarmed one, back then; "You've seen it."

"I know," Piper muttered, each word laced with resentment; "It's not your abilities I'm worried about, Martin. You haven't seen what those things actually do to people. Your opinion of the Commonwealth's low enough as is, without seeing the actual darker sides."

He hadn't, and for that alone he was grateful. The stories were enough. Thoughts of such beasts were enough to banish his more amorous inclinations, for all that Piper was so near. Beyond being a woman, she was his closest, dearest friend in this hellhole. He'd be lost without her, and he knew it. Likely, so did she.

"I can't stop you from going, Lord knows that I want to though," a dry, mirthless scoff escaped her. She knocked her head back against the wall, staring upwards. It was still a strange notion to him, that others would outright resent his departure, more so than tolerate his presence, though it was a notion growing less and less so, the more time he spent with Piper; "Why you gotta do this to a girl, Martin? Come dashing in to the rescue and then ride off into the sunset like some fairy tale knight?"

Despite the situation, her words did make a small, faint smile spread on his lips. Speaking of him like a fairytale knight, though for him such stories had been more the stuff of every day tales, rumors of chivalric knights. It was another reminder of just how different their worlds were.

"You say that like I will not return," he would go with a caravan, they usually knew how to get around, didn't they? The journey itself would not be dangerous, too much, if he just stayed with the caravan; "Diamond City is the least horrible place in Commonwealth, far as I have seen, no?"

"Well, yeah, but Greentop's up pretty close to Salem," Piper noted with a dissatisfied huff; "What if you find some stuff up there that's like, I dunno, a magick rock that zaps you back to Tamriel?"

"I won't," the words left him before he had a chance to think, or even decide to speak them. They took him aback, a little, at the conviction he still felt in them. Piper, too, seemed surprised, glancing at him like he'd said something outright strange. Suddenly, he did not know what to say further, but it was clear that she expected him to say something. Things like these, he wished there was a spell that would let him know what to do; "Even if I find something, I... will not just leave."

"Don't make a girl a promise you can't keep..." she muttered, eyes downcast; "Even if Diamond City is less shit than the rest of the Commonwealth, I know it's still a hole compared to where you come from."

Martin was not quite sure what made him dare it - perhaps it was last night, still fresh in mind. It had done much to errode his determination, each step closer to Piper, like that, he felt like it was as much a step further from returning home. As if some Daedra held a scale out, and weighed his home against her. It was a cruel thing, his heart straining for both. A great many things it wanted, and the highest of them was so near, so very near and within reach, if he would only reach out for it. It would not be the first time he imagined what life he could make for himself in this place. Nor, likely, would it be the last, if Piper's company grew closer and closer as it did. Maybe... maybe there would be a way to bring them with him, back to Tamriel?

But, there was still that lingering doubt. What if he was wrong? What if he misread something, and made an act that would ruin everything? It was that small voice of dread, of doubt, that stayed his hand.

"Maybe," he finally said, forcing a smile; "But it feels less shit than when I saw it first."

"Yeah?" a small smile found its way to her lips as well. The sight warmed him inside, and he knew it chipped away at his resolve. He knew, but... in truth, cared less than he maybe ought have; "Hey, Martin..."

"Mmm?"

He could not see her face, turned away as it was when next she spoke, but he could hear the smile in her voice.

"Thanks, for... giving it a chance..."

It spoke of the actual investment McDonough had made, that patients started returning to the clinic already the next day. It made him suspect the distribution of medical supplies had been on a daily basis, rather than handing out sizable batches to every household and hoping it would last. In a city of thousands, it was no surprise that such an investment would heavily tax the system, and more so if it was all handed out at once. If there was a Black Market, it would no doubt have grown fat on such surplus.

For what felt like the first time since he had started the project of producing a simple potion, Martin faced the true strain an entire town would put on a single, dedicated clinic. And, as the sole employee of that clinic, all the strain went upon his shoulders. It was fortunate that the vast majority of these patients that came in were mere consultations and diagnoses, and that of these, the vast majority could be prescribed medicine he'd become somewhat familiar with - or in any case he simply understood the cause and best treatment, and found the medicine best suited by sorting by the label.

Still, there were cases where hand-on was needed. A broken leg from work, infected wounds from the urban farms, gangrea, tetanus, fevers, nausea, blood-clots...

It was strange, but he almost felt as if this was the sort of work, the true sort of work, that his entire education had been meant to prepared him for. Only, he had been meant to utilize restorative spells for much of these cases, rather than relying on syringes, stitches and gauze. It was both a handicap, and an unexpected boon, that he could make use of the parts of his training not immediately tied to magic, and thus not a strain on his reserves. The more serious cases were with people from outside Diamond City. Guards with trauma, both gunshot and blunt in nature, and farmers from somewhere close by, bringing in people with broken limbs and coughs.

It surprised many of them how simple the treatments often turned out to be. It surprised him, no less so, how straightforward this task truly was. He had imagined the duties of a doctor, without employing magic, to be little more than the work of a battlefield surgeon, restricted to scalpels and bindings. But in its own way, it was far more, and far more rewarding too.

The cases where he had to use magic, on people who did not already know, or could not be trusted, the sheer amount of sedatives stored in the clinic was a blessing in and off itself. He'd seen how Sun performed surgery, the very day he arrived to Diamond City, and it made him wonder if the staggering cache was a simple result of the Mayor's office wanting to keep his patients somewhat sane. That, or Sun had simply never truly employed them. Either would be a cause for insomnia, and he cared not to find out.

This apparent normalcy, a settling into his actual role as a doctor, made him start to wonder. What if he did stay? Not merely for the sake of where he stood with Piper, but where he stood with the people here as a whole. It was evident beyond doubt that they needed a doctor, and with Sun gone only he really remained to fill the role. He was qualified, and found the work no more difficult than his training back home. The inability to openly employ magic was not the handicap he'd feared it would be.

"Sounds like you're settling in better than expected then," Piper hummed, stabbing down at the relatively gelatinous mass before her. Martin would wonder how she could eat such a thing, if not for the fact that it genuinely was delicious. Lunchbreak away from the clinic - more so a break forced upon him by her physically pushing him out the clinic door on the fourth day of resumed work - was spent at one of the many food stands in the market square. While the one of greatest repute was a robot serving a sort of pasta, Piper had pointed them at a dispenser of seafood near to the street leading to the Dugout, though seated them away from the main thoroughfare.

Seafood, of course, in this place, did not mean fish. He wasn't even sure why he had expected that it would, when the stand itself was shadowed by the cleaned-out shell of a large crustacean. Mirelurks. Idly, he recalled something she had told him in the tunnels, of how there were farms along the coast to the east, with massive basins where mirelurks were raised for their meat. Mirelurks, apparently, grew all their lives, but only became truly dangerous when they reached adolescence, a transitionary period where they went from soft to hard shells, the latter even capable of resisting firearms. It reminded him of mudcrabs, though by how Piper described it, mirelurks were bigger. It conjured up images he was glad to have not had in the tunnels. The mirelurk carcass they had come across there had been so ruined that it had been impossible to gain an actual idea of its size. Watching the stand-owner chopping up and frying the meat though, it had looked more like cutting an enormous pillbug.

Still, at least the taste was good.

"It is almost too... normal," it was the best way he could describe it, though she did raise an eye at his choice of words; "I expected that, because I do not know all medicine here, I would not work well. But, I am, working well. I can help people, in a way I did not think I could."

"Feels good, don't it?" she offered, her smile bright and only a little smeared by sauce. For a moment, he stared, but only a moment, before bringing his eyes back down on the meat before him. Like this, it more resembled pork than shellfish. Smell was hard to miss though. Being a country boy by birth, he'd never tasted seafood until he came to the Imperial City, and then it was still hard to come by. This, a massive chunk of meat, was a treat he'd not known he had missed; "Helping people," she clarified, perhaps thinking he nodded at the food; "Getting back at it after so long working on that project. Knowing you can help people though? That's one of the best feelings."

"Like the bookshelf-story?" he recalled it well, both amusing and terrifying in its own right. The fact that it had only been resolved after Piper raised a crowd, he did not like; "What if there are holes in the wall you don't know about?"

"Well, I guess we'll find out when the supers start crawling in through the alleyways, won't we?" Piper chuckled, though her expression did regain some seriousness; "I don't know. Best we can do is try, right? Try and make the world a better place than we found it, literally in your case."

"If it is contest, then you are still ahead, I think," he enjoyed the small blush he could cause, though the ensuing smugness almost evened it out. Piper knew she had saved people, and though she never asked for recognition, visibly enjoyed it all the same. And he liked giving it, a small thing if at that; "How many people live in town?"

"Few thousand, give or take a hundred," she shrugged, relenting with a smile and laugh that was an admission of defeat by all accounts. The smile was infectious, and he could not hold back his own; "Right, fine, you goddamn smoothtalker. Give it time, a few years, you'll reach my level."

"Hopefully, maybe if we count people in Greentop," he wasn't quite sure how many lived there, but given the place was a major agricultural center, it likely was somewhere in the hundreds. Maybe. He still had a hard time imagining people making a living outside the protective walls of Diamond City, with the Commonwealth being what it was. Mentioning Greentop, Piper's smile faded a little, though it remained. He'd been looking at the maps of the old transit system, and found a small, foldable map in the clinic, likely having belonged to Sun; "I will take caravan to Bunker Hill, through the Green Line, then Orange Line from there to Malden. Should be easy, yes?"

"Orange Line isn't a subway though," Piper noted, stabbing at her steak. Considering the line went across the river, he supposed it should have been no surprise. Still, Martin bit down a curse at the old maps. There was nothing to distinguish subterranean lines from those on the surface, not even a sign or a piece of text. When he showed the old, browning piece of paper to Piper, she unfolded it against the table, smearing mirelurk grease on its corners; "It's an old tram-line, old even by Pre-War standards. Caravans go by the surface from Bunker Hill. That's how we get to Malden. From Malden, best path is fairly straight forward, shouldn't take more than an hour's... what?"

He almost didn't catch it, because of the way she quickly continued the conversation. It was so obviously a slip of the tongue that even he still had the ears to pick up on it. Somehow, it both gladdened and worried him deeply.

"You say 'we' get to Malden," he kept his voice lowered, as a guard walked past on the street, but raised it to normal again when the man had gone past; "You are not doctor, Piper, why?"

"Well, I mean..." she let slip a nervous laugh, a strained sound as she looked away, seemingly now much more interested in her food, for all that it was repulsive to behold. She didn't start eating, however; "...It's going to sound weird, but I'm probably not gonna get a lot of work done anyway while you're out there, I mean Nat, she's going to be worried sick, you know?"

Though he did not doubt Natalie would be concerned for his safety - which was actually a rather pleasant realization - he also was not so utterly blind, deaf and dumb that he could not tell when Piper was telling an open lie. And it looked as if she could tell, visibly deflating, like a child caught raiding the pantry. At least she had the grace to give him a smile, though awkward, almost as if taking pride in that he could read her that well. In fairness, he knew much of his own social progress was to her merit more than his own.

"I'd probably... also be worried kinda sick, you know," she muttered, stabbing once more at her food; "Besides, Caravans only go to Greentop. You want to see Salem, you're gonna need a guide."

Her tone made it abundantly clear that no argument could be brokered. Somehow, Martin didn't really mind that. The idea of traveling with Piper had by far greater appeal than traveling alone, and not only for the sake of a guide. Though they had not shared another rooftop seance since that night, it still sat deeply in him, every moment of that night ingrained into his memory. For it was a pleasant one, a scene he would have liked to go on forever. Failing that, it was one he would not at all mind repeating, but exhaustion from work had robbed him of the chance this last week.

Now, however, with the premise at hand that they would come to travel together once again, like in what could almost now be called the 'old times', brought forth ideas and thoughts it perhaps was better Piper did not know.

Not yet, at least. Maybe, once this was over with, and they came back to Diamond City, he could unravel his own emotions towards her, and find out for certain what hers might be, if any were indeed there. It was a nice fantasy to entertain, the idea of their arms and legs interlocked, in absolute bliss, utterly joined and at total peace with one another. Just the thought of it alone stirred him, and brought his eyes to Piper, to where her fingers, slender and nimble from years of working the typewriter, played with the cutlery, to her cheeks, sun-tanned and blemished from the Wasteland's skies, to her eyes...

...which seemed to have noticed his, and caught his gaze. Piper said nothing, though a brow rose in silent query. Martin hurriedly looked away, though... there had not been dismissal in her eyes, had there? It had almost looked like... something else. Something more...

"Cap for your thoughts?" she mused, a self-assured grin betraying that she likely understood to some degree what thoughts crossed his mind. Her reaction alone was enough to dispel his concerns. Piper knew she was attractive, and he doubted she'd be so naive as to think even close friends would find her as such. He shook the lasts doubts off, chuckling; "What?"

"Nothing, I was just..." he paused, unsure if it was the right choice of words, but the daring side, as it had increasingly done over the last week, won out again; "...admiring the scenery."

Piper's own grin disappeared, almost, becoming somewhat less pronounced as she looked away, scratching her neck as if a sudden irritation had spawned. She did not meet his eyes, though color had come to her cheeks, almost invisible through the tan. He had only grown this confident because of her, and it was like that she knew it. In the end she did laugh, not forced as much as it rang of resignation.

"Careful, Martin," she chuckled; "Keep going like that and a girl could get the wrong impression,"

Strangely, such comments did not feel as dangerous as he'd thought they might. Or, rather, he did not feel apprehensive at making them, instead almost feeling emboldened. For each time Piper did not seem to dismiss his compliments, it felt like he was moving a step further towards... something, of which he himself was not yet entirely sure. By the gods, the things he would do to her if things were different, if she were not so good a friend that the fear of losing that friendship outweighed his attraction towards her as a woman... It was enough that he wanted to smash his face against the table, if nothing else then for the sake of driving those very desires from his mind.

The almost mischievous atmosphere slowly dissipated, replaced instead with a more somber realization that he could not take this, these moments with her, for granted. He had promised to give the Commonwealth a chance, to seriously consider staying here, but... he would not know the strength of that conviction until he stood with the door home before him, wide opened and beckoning. If he was alone when that came to pass, he had not the faith in himself that he could say for sure yet he would not be swayed. For that reason, he was all the happier that she had decided to accompany him.

"I... am glad, that you come with me," the words felt harder to say than his flirtatious remark, which in itself felt stranger still. But it was true, and perhaps that was why the admission felt so hard to put to words; "But, are you sure you can just... go?"

"Hey, it's fine," Piper seemed to have not picked up on the reason for his change of tone, or if she had, she did not let it affect her own, instead maintaining the same, amused cheer; "It's just a day's travel. Nat won't starve because I'm not there to make her lunch, you know?"

"She is bright," Sadly without magical aptitude, for by the gods the mage she could have become otherwise. A wit and outlook as sharp as hers, he could imagine a great many wizards would have killed for such an apprentice; "Children in Empire, they are most of them rather... dull, childish."

"Yeah well, Wasteland has a way of growing you up right quick," Shrugging, she forked down another slice of fried shellfish, wiping the grease away with her sleeve before continuing; "That, or you just don't grow up at all."

"Natalie grew up well," he noted, and he knew it was not thanks to the school; "You have done better than most, I think. In more things than just taking care of her."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Piper laughed, though he could tell there was something else behind it. She put down her food, eying him with what seemed like piqued amusement; "But, do go on."

"No, that... that was it," there was more, of course. He wanted to tell her that she had opened home and hearth to a complete stranger, taken him in when the Wasteland would have spat him out. That she was a woman of peerless integrity and optimism, in a world that seemed keener on rewarding the violent and the corrupt. Later. He would tell her later, when it felt more... natural.

"And he was doing so well..." she sighed; "Martin, when a girl tells you flattery gets you nowhere, you're supposed to keep flattering her."

When had they come to this point, anyway? A mere minute ago it was all about the path to Greentop, and how to get there and about orange and red and green lines, and then suddenly... was this flirting? He hadn't seen it done in Diamond City yet, the rules likely differed from back home. It was more likely that here such behavior, as with much of its kind, was far looser, and far more carefree in its doing. Courtship was not reserved for betrothed, but could as well here be bantered between friends.

"I like your hair," he tried, the first thing that came to mind. It had come to mind, indeed, often enough since they sat down in the clinic, so close together that he could smell it. The chance had not come again since, but the memory stuck; "It smells nice."

He would for a long time to come have this image seared into his mind, of Piper staring at him as if he had told her Natalie was a mage. Utter bewilderment, confusion, and a general expression of disbelief.

Then she laughed. This time, it was far more genuine than before, far more open and utterly resigned. He wasn't sure if this was how these things were usually done, for he hadn't seen anyone laughing before when offered a compliment. Piper laughed until she nearly fell from her chair, then steadied herself, breathing

"Well," she chuckled; "It's a start."

If I had a cap for every time I rewrote a scene in this chapter, I could buy out Arturo's stock.