Ronny slammed the door behind them, releasing a deep sigh and sliding down the surface of the wood to the floor. He rubbed at his throbbing leg and rolled up his pant leg to peer at the damage. The discolored skin of his quad was painful to the touch, the recently applied stimpak still stitching his flesh back together.
Nat sat down on a bed, tiredly rolling her head in his direction. "How you holdin' up, Ron?"
Ronny groaned. "Doing great. Might just go for a run in a bit, here."
She stowed her bag under the mattress and walked over to him. "Come on, let's get you on the bed."
Nat pulled Ronny up, offering her shoulder to guide him. She laid him down, just as Jack entered the room.
"We're paid up for two nights, so we can spend an extra day to recover."
Nat looked up at him. "Two? How much extra did that run you?"
"Not a cap. Ran into someone that was nice enough to cover it for us."
"Yeah, but don't go tellin' anyone, Jacky. I've got me reputation t'uphold around here, you know."
Nat's face lit up, and she stood and ran to the waiting figure of Cait. They shared a hug, as the Irish woman rubbed Nat's back.
Jack was always amazed at how little the years seemed to affect Cait. Her face was very nearly unwrinkled, and her body as toned and curvy as it had been in the earliest memories he had of her. Her arms played host to more tattoos, but her hair still held the same dirty red sheen, and even the clothes she wore were the same style as the tattered traveling garb that always went with her.
"It's so good to see you, Miss Cait."
Cait scoffed. "I keep tellin' ya, girlie, quit callin' me that! It makes me feel older than I already am."
"Sorry, Miss Cait, it's a habit I probably won't be breaking."
"Besides, you could pass for someone half your age, I swear." Ronny spoke from his bed, propped on his elbow.
"Gah, what is it with you kids? You don't have to lie to me like that, Ron." She rubbed the back of her neck, cheeks dusted with pink.
Jack chuckled. "Well he isn't being that dishonest, Cait. I don't care what that one gray hair says, you look damn good for middle aged!"
Cait punched his shoulder. "You're damn lucky I love ya, Jacky, ya little bastard."
The hit didn't stumble Jack, so he knew she held back, but a dull ache still cropped up in his arm. Turned out, he supposed, that someone who grew up cage fighting would always be able to throw a mean punch.
"So, what happened, Ron? Don't tell me that ya fell and hit a rock or somethin'?"
Ronny hummed, rubbing at his leg again. "Worse - I fell and hit a bullet from a jetted-out raider. Paid him back, though, so don't worry."
"Good thing. Well, can ya walk? The best cure I ever found for bullets was liquor."
Ronny sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, pushing his hobbled limb against the floor. He didn't wince, so he tested his luck at standing, then walking.
"Not falling over yet. Let's go, Jack's buying." He strode through the door. Nat pumped her fist, Cait uncrossed her arms and smirked, both left the room.
Jack whipped around. "Jack's doing what? God damn it, Ron!"
"Got this one after Nate helped me flush me system of the Psycho, make a new future and all that."
"Touching, great sentiment."
"Got this one after Jacky boy was born."
"Embarrassing, but I love the love."
"Got this one after I killed a deathclaw bare handed."
"Sounds fake, but sure."
"Got this one after I started me own life and got this job."
"And how is it being head of security at Country Crossing?"
Cait let her arm fall to the table, lolling her head to the side to look at Ronny. "Me of thirty years ago would have laughed in my face, called me all sorts of shite for bein' some boring old woman and takin' a 'real job.' Me of ten years ago may have had similar thoughts, but I get to punch people for pissin' me off, I get paid for it, and I don't have to use Psycho. Sounds like a winner to me."
Nat raised her glass. "Here, here."
All of them followed suit and took a drink, and Nat gestured to a tattoo half-covered by the hem of Cait's shirt, just above her hip. "What's that one, Miss Cait?"
Cait leaned to follow Nat's eyes, staring at the lightly fading ink on her side. She hummed quietly, pulling the fabric up to reveal the full picture. "This… this is from a dark part of me life. I got it during my time livin' at the Combat Zone, one of the scrawny Raiders gave it to me after I showed up and started fightin' for Tommy."
Ronny frowned. "What was the inspiration?"
Cait was quiet for several moments. "A reminder of the time I spent as a slave, after me parents sent me to die…" She felt herself slipping back into the nightmare she'd been trying to kick for decades.
Back in the trailer park, hitting things with rocks and making a nuisance, as kids do. A crash from a rock hitting something fragile wakes her father, and his annoyed yelling starts up again. It continues for what feels like hours, slowly devolving into guttural screeches. The form of her father morphs into some great black beast, and she runs, but no matter how hard she pumps her legs the danger only looms ever closer. Finally, she trips and shuts her eyes, waiting.
There's a gap at this part, one she can't ever remember no matter how many times she's forced to endure this pain. Snippets of hard labor and those damned men forcing themselves on her assaults her mind like aggressive slaps from an unseen attacker in a pitch-black room, leaving her reeling in aggravated frustration. Then, without warning, she's standing on the threshold of her parents' trailer again, only this time she's gripping a shotgun so hard she thinks it might snap in half. There's blood on the walls, a wild, feral look in her eyes as she stares at the bodies of the people she once called family. The Psycho is tugging at her mind, dragging her thoughts into a cloud of rage and red-tinged revenge.
Hot tears squeezed from Cait's tightly shut eyes, trailing down her fair cheeks. She felt her nails digging roughly into her palms. "I haven't told anyone that story in years, not since—" Her voice was barely above a whisper. She released a shuddering breath.
Jack stood from his chair and knelt next to Cait, wrapping her in a hug as she cried. Cait didn't let herself make a scene, she refused to, but the lifeline Jack provided was more than welcome while she collected herself. She broke away from Jack, sniffling as she smiled at him and smoothed his hair. Nat and Ronny watched on, both extending a hand to rest on each of Cait's arms.
"Your father was the best damn thing that ever happened to me, Jacky. Somehow, some way, he managed to help me move on from all the bullshit that ran my life, all because he actually cared about me, like I was someone he'd known for all his years. I… I still get the dreams sometimes, but it's a damn sight better than the nightly terrors I had all that time..." She sniffled again. "And I suppose Piper helped too, the damn peppy broad."
Jack smiled. "I'm sure that both of them would be so honored to hear you say that, Cait." He reclaimed his seat alongside her, and decided it would be best to change the subject. "So, are you here to stay? Gonna settle down, meet someone nice, start a family of little drunken kids?"
Cait leaned back and laughed softly. "You're a funny guy. Stay and settle? Maybe, I do like it here. Start a family? Fuck no, I think I missed the boat on that particular idea. I'll be just fine with the occasional shag. And besides, I've got you an' Ronny to be my little ones."
"Jeez, Cait, when did you become such a big softy?" Ronny smirked through his words.
"Don't make me smack ya, kid."
"Like a true Irishwoman…" Nat drawled.
"I'm serious, though, I love all of ya like me own blood. I didn't get to have the life that girls dream about when they're tykes, and for a long time that really fucked me up. After a while I got over it and started focusin' on making it to the next day, but eventually I just gave up on thinkin' I'd ever have something like a real family to love me. It's… well, I'll just say that I'm glad I was wrong." Cait's attention rested fondly on each of their faces for a beat. "I really don't know what I would do without you all." She hummed again, pushing air through her nose. "Even when he's gone Nate is still givin' me reasons to keep going."
The group dynamic turned reflective, everyone taking in the chance to reminisce and appreciate what they had in each other.
Soon the conversation shifted to the community around them. Country Crossing had grown the most of almost any non-Boston settlement, and they recently had the luxury of a team of Mr. Handy's sent from Greygarden to maintain round the clock operations. Like many other Commonwealth living areas, the terrain was the biggest challenge in expanding. So, the robots were outfitted with excavation tools and within months there were several plots of flattened land.
They had even managed to get a greenhouse going, which was as bountiful as could be hoped for. From the time of Jack's father until now, the settlement had added four housing developments, a market, a brahmin farm, a bar, and a clinic. The nearby National Guard facility had been converted into a training hub and forward operating base for the Minutemen, giving knowledge and experience to a large portion of the people from other settlements in need of basic survivalist tactics and firearm know-how.
The bar was a small affair, with a twenty-foot counter and four tables. The group sat at the rearmost one, at Cait's request, due to her deep-seeded paranoia of having her back to a room.
Nat sat up and looked at Cait. "So, what's been going on around here?"
"Eh, not a hell of a lot. A few petty crimes, nothing usually worth more than a few nights in a cell. Every now and again someone comes in looking to offload some shady cargo, and I run 'em out. Don't need a stream of chems comin' into my town."
Jack sniggered. "Listen to you, so protective."
"Hey, I can be a damn good guardian when I want to be! Just ask yer mother, she'd back me up." Cait was silent for a few moments. "Oh, there was one other thing. A week or two ago I got wind of a group of thugs roughin' people up, beatin' 'em and takin' money from 'em and such. From what I was told, these lot were real good in a fight."
Jack sat up. "So what did you do with them?"
She shrugged. "They skipped town before I even got there. They were here and gone within a couple hours, never got the chance to do a thing."
"Shit man… You said they just showed up, mugged people, and bounced?" Ronny asked.
Cait hummed. "Poor bastards they attacked are still in the clinic, some kind of poison in their veins."
The three looked at each other, and Nat spoke up. "Something the doctor doesn't have anything to treat? Overly hot lesions on their skin?"
Cait's forehead scrunched together. "Yeah… And the skin is starting to blacken— wait how'd you know?"
"We just came from Bunker Hill; someone got the exact same treatment. A week or two ago, huh? Probably not the same guys, kinda troubling."
Jack interjected. "We're on our way up to Medford to see about a potential treatment. If we find one, we'll swing back through on our way down. Hopefully your people are still above ground at that point."
"Any idea where this stuff is comin' from? If we've got some crazy gobshite selling a new, slow, painful killer toxin to wasteland psychopaths, I want to know about it." Cait growled, leaning forward with conviction thick in her voice.
"We don't know much more than you at this point." Ronny said. "But now we've got to find something." Ronny brought his fist down on the table, rattling the glasses.
Nat rested her hand on Ronny's shoulder. "And we will. For now, Miss Cait, is there anything that could use a couple of able bodies, so long as we're here?"
Cait put a finger to her chin. "Suppose you could help the boys put up some new perimeter fencin', and a couple turrets. They're trying to get it wrapped up before the end of tomorrow."
Jack stood, jingling a few caps in his hand. "Say no more. I'll cover this, and we'll get started tomorrow morning."
Jack wiped his brow and leaned against the fencepost. He put his recently used hammer on top and took a drink from his water canteen. He looked over to see Nat doing the same, and Ronny on top of the scaffolding turning a wrench. The latter swore as he stripped a bolt and tossed his jacket to the ground in frustration.
Nat and Jack had shed their top layers some time ago, now wearing only tank tops against the harsh sun, grateful that it was nearly below the horizon. The work had been constant since sunrise, but they had finally put the finishing touches on the wall.
Ronny jumped down from his perch. "Fuck it, that'll have to do. They'd better not need to get at that bolt any time soon."
He flicked on the generator next to the catwalk, sighing in relief when the turrets started up and rotated in place.
Nat slapped Ronny on the back. "Nice job. Time for a shower?"
"Might need two, at this point."
The three of them picked up their clothes and slung them over their shoulders, tiredly walking toward their bunkhouse. As they approached the security station on the right, a scrap of paper nailed to the notice board caught Jack's eye.
Missing – Peter Ingrid. Last seen headed to marina. If found, contact Wendy Ingrid
"You guys go ahead, I'll catch up."
"Don't have to tell me twice." Nat and Ronny didn't look back at him.
Jack ascended the steps to the station and went inside, spotting Cait at a desk near the back of the room.
"Hey, how long's that missing person poster been outside?"
She looked up at him. "I dunno, a few days? Why?"
"Has anyone done an investigation or anything?"
Cait put down the papers she held. "I had one of my guys go ask the wife, but what information she had was next to useless. I told her that we'd keep trying, but that I wouldn't guarantee anything."
Jack was silent for a moment. "Have you gotten missing persons before?"
"It's the only one I can remember that's gotten a poster, but people get themselves lost all the time in the Commonwealth. Most times, people either know or assume the person's dead, so they don't bother with it. Dumb bastard probably picked a fight with a mirelurk or somethin'."
"Real nice, Cait."
She rolled her eyes. "Listen, me compassion only goes so far. Doesn't matter if shite's better off than it was when I was your age. It's still the Commonwealth, and it's still dangerous. People have to be smart."
Jack sighed. "Alright, thanks." He pulled a small notebook from his back pocket and wrote down the name and description. "I'll see you tomorrow morning. Good night, Cait."
"G'night, Jacky."
Jack walked from the bunkhouse to the settlement gate, stopping to crack his back.
"Christ, am I sore."
Nat passed him, doing one-armed circles. "Join the club. I feel like I got trampled by a herd of brahmin."
"Really? Cause I feel great!" Ronny popped up next to them.
"Is that right?"
"Oh hell no, my wrists are killing me."
"Mhm."
Nat shouldered her bag, whining as the second strap slipped on. Jack and Ronny grunted as they did the same, the latter letting out a constricted breath.
"You alright there, bud?"
"Doin' great." It came out as a winded wheeze, the pure cartoonishness of it making Jack laugh.
The three travelers saw Cait standing at the gate, waiting to see them off. She hugged each of them and planted a kiss on the side of Jack's head when she got to him.
"Thanks for stoppin' by, Jacky, stay well. Come back soon?"
He smiled. "For you? Of course. Like I said, we'll be back on the return trip from Medford."
Cait returned his smile and called for the gatekeeper to open them. She waved them off, waiting until they were gone from her sight to heave a sigh and return to her security station.
A/N: Another familiar face! Next one has some action, I promise!