Tuesday took the chip to the Railroad, figuring if anybody had the chops to crack the Institute's technology, it would be one of theirs. But, naturally, the underground organization would not do it for free.

That's why Piper and Tuesday were picking along a ruined stretch of the Mass Pike alongside a shifty man in sunglasses, trusting him to lead them to an ally instead of a trap. He hadn't given them a whole lot of details about their mission and Tuesday hadn't been able to persuade him otherwise, so they were forced to follow blindly along behind as he tracked a trail of railsigns to their destination.

Tuesday would have thought that this sort of raised highway would be out of reach of most enemies, but the Gunners posted at the entrance and the ghouls scattered among the cars they'd passed proved otherwise.

They were passing a ruined bus right now, one whose tires had flattened into the pavement and whose paint had faded to a dull brown long ago. The door was wide open, and the gaping entry looked like an awfully good hiding place for enemies. Tuesday eyed it warily as they approached, combat rifle in hand.

Deacon, their guide, passed it without fuss, which offered her a little twinge of relief.

Too soon.

It was just as Piper began to sidle by the door that the snarl of a roused feral ghoul split the air. Too fast to track, one of the grotesque things shot out from the vehicle and tackled her, sending her staggering but not to the ground. The reporter cried out in surprise and then pain as the feral's ragged nails dug into her flesh before she could unholster her 10mm. Even as her point-blank shot rang out, taking the feral's head off, a second and then a third creature piled out of the bus, alerted by the noise.

In the narrow strip between the bus and the guardrail, Tuesday couldn't fire a shot without risking hitting Piper, so she surged forward with the barrel of her rifle in her hands instead, ready to swing.

She clobbered one ghoul into the pavement before it even saw her. She turned to the second in preparation to smash it away from Piper, but just then a fourth creature spilled from the opening and ran for the nearer reporter as well. Tuesday pivoted fast to switch targets—only, Piper's back was turned so she didn't notice the motion, and as she dodged away from her current enemy in the same direction her shoulder came right into Tuesday's line of fire and—

"Augh!" Piper staggered under the unexpected blow from behind and Tuesday's gut did a painful flip as the ghoul she'd missed lunged after the reporter while her guard was down.

"Shit! Sorry!" The vault dweller flipped her gun around and got two shots off before the ghoul's grip could close on her companion, sending it sprawling dead at her feet instead. Piper lodged a trio of bullets into the other's chest, and it fell atop the first.

That was the last one, and afterward Tuesday was free to rush to her companion's side, shouldering her gun in favor of reaching out steadying hands.

"Sorry! I'm sorry," she blurted. "You stepped right in front of me and I—"

Piper's loud groan cut her off. The reporter clutched her shoulder and rotated her arm around a few times, testing the severity of the damage. "You've got quite the swing, huh? Maybe I'll go talk to Moe about getting you a Swatter."

"Piper, really, I didn't mean to—"

"Oh, lighten up, Blue," the reporter interrupted without much heat, patting Tuesday's chest plate with her undamaged hand. "I know. I'm fine."

"But—" Tuesday's eyes flicked to her now-certainly-bruised shoulder, swimming with guilt.

Piper waved her off. "You know well and good that I've been through worse."

"But it's not usually me who puts you through it," Tuesday protested. At Piper's raised eyebrow, she realized what she'd just said and how untrue it actually was. She grimaced. "Oh. Well, I mean—"

"Save it, Blue," the reporter cut her off gently, raising her undamaged arm again to place a finger over her fumbling lips this time. "I'm all right. I promise."

The vault dweller was so stunned at the contact that she dropped her argument entirely. She felt a blush flaring up and looked away fast to hide it, pretending to be very interested in the cracked pavement off to her right.

"If you two are done, I think I've spotted our informant," Deacon spoke up smoothly from a little ways down the road. Tuesday flashed him a glare; she hadn't seen him fighting off any ferals. But they needed this mission to win the Railroad's support, so Tuesday swallowed down her annoyance and nodded.

Turning to Piper, she murmured, "This should be right up your alley, huh? I'll let you do the talking."

Piper gave her a raised brow and a sideways look. Based on their past luck with Tuesday's leaden tongue, that would probably be best for everyone. Piper told her so.

…

They had the chip, and Tuesday was ready to infiltrate the Institute in every respect—in theory. Only, she didn't feel ready at all. Going in blind to face the most mysterious and insidious boogeyman in the Commonwealth? Facing down synths and maybe Coursers with nobody watching her back except her suit of power armor? Having the weight of the entire Commonwealth's expectations pressing firmly on her shoulders?

Sue her for wanting to take some time to gather her wits first.

She decided on a detour south to investigate a Vault-Tec radio signal after leaving the Railroad HQ, Courser chip in hand. Helping people in the mundane, manageable respects of fighting off raiders or planting cornstalks was a much more appealing notion than blasting off into the Institute just yet. It would take her mind off of things for a minute, at least.

The signal led them to a vault just south of Hyde Park. The fight to the entrance was ridiculously grueling—since when did raiders take twenty bullets apiece to bring down?—but thanks to Tuesday's power armor and plenty of space to maneuver, they managed to come out on top.

The resilient raiders out front turned out to be the least disturbing thing about the place. The entrance itself was deep in a quarry surrounded by radioactive muck, and the interior was populated by feral ghouls, monsters, and a single ghoul woman named Barstow who seemed concerningly Vault-Tec born and bred. The vault itself was grossly unfinished, and though Tuesday knew full well that Vault-Tec did not have the public's best interests at heart, the thought of what could have been was still painful. Tuesday's first instinct was to leave this place buried under its sad history, but its potential as a safe settlement made her check herself.

That was the only reason she and Piper were heading up to the control room to turn on the radio beacon Barstow had described. Giving settlers a chance to live in relative peace behind a two-ton blast door was an opportunity she could not pass up. They would have to do some clearing out of hostile presences, of course, and a healthy amount of construction from scratch, but it would be a worthwhile sacrifice of time and effort.

Tuesday did not expect to get sidetracked in the control room by a pair of glasses, but her life had been anything but predictable lately.

"Huh," she remarked absently as she approached the computer desk in the center-left of the room. She picked up the black-rimmed, slightly tinted glasses and held them up to the light. "Well, these are sexy." They weren't. Really, she just hadn't seen more than a handful of the vision aids since her prewar days. It was odd, now that she thought about it, but she'd just unconsciously figured that maybe radiation had the neat side effect of making everyone's vision perfect.

"What are?" asked Piper as she joined the vault dweller by the desk. Tuesday passed them to her just out of obligation, but to her mild surprise the reporter actually put them on. When she did, her eyebrows twitched up in surprise and her jaw dropped slightly.

"Oh," she said very softly.

Tuesday faced her in confusion. "What?"

Piper chewed her lip like she was embarrassed. "You know," she mused as she swiveled her head to take in the room through the gray-tinted lenses, eyes wide, "I never really gave much thought to my eyesight all these years, but maybe I should have."

"Do those help?" Tuesday asked, feeling her lips begin to flicker toward a smile. No way. Apparently people did still need glasses in 2287; they were evidently just difficult to come by. Or they didn't even know it.

Piper turned toward the doorway to squint down the hall from which they'd come. Her face relaxed with a wondering laugh as the gesture apparently proved unnecessary. "I didn't even realize I'd been flying blind this whole time. I just thought radiation made the world look fuzzy!"

"Piper, you're joking." Tuesday couldn't suppress her grin any longer. Not only was this revelation funny as hell, but she'd found that the unsexy glasses actually did look kind of attractive on her friend. "You've been waving that pistol around for how long, and you can't even see?"

"Hey! I can see well enough to watch your six, thank you very much," Piper snapped back indignantly. She turned back to face the vault dweller and her hazel eyes looked a mite too big behind the lenses.

"I know. I don't know what I'd do without you," Tuesday said more gently, though she was still smirking. "But, seriously?" She turned toward the computer array and focused on the task they were supposed to be doing: turning on that beacon. Her next words were a mumble. "No wonder you don't mind being around me."

Piper heard her loud and clear. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"A girl must look a whole lot better when you can't see the ugly scars all over her face." Tuesday refused to look at her, resisting the urge to reach up and rub her permanently reddened cheeks (a product of poorly managed acne in her teens). She used to be able to disguise it with some makeup, but these days there weren't a whole lot of cosmetics lying around. Now she felt bad for bringing it up.

"Blue, they're not—" Tuesday huffed a sardonic laugh and began to turn away, but Piper wouldn't let her off that easily. She got right up in front of her and reached up to grab that red-stained face with firm but gentle hands. "I can see you just fine up close, and I wouldn't change a thing," she blurted a little too readily.

Tuesday's eyebrows shot up in tandem with her rising blush. She and Piper had suddenly become very close—close enough for the vault dweller to make out the flecks of green in the reporter's glasses-enlarged eyes—and combined with the heartfelt compliment she'd just spilled out like a mistake…

Tuesday was abruptly and sorely tempted to kiss her again.

She lingered there in the reporter's hands for a pregnant second, but a flicker of the lights above them served to remind her where they were and what they were supposed to be doing.

"We should, uh—" Tuesday was distracted by the way Piper's gaze flickered to her lips as she spoke. Damn it, this girl is going to be the death of me. She swallowed hard. "We should get that beacon running."

Piper blinked and loosened her grip on Tuesday's face as she pulled back to a safe distance, looking every bit as flustered as the vault dweller felt. "Yeah," she croaked out, trying to sound chipper and failing. "Yeah, okay."

She kept the glasses.

…