The longer Tuesday and Piper spent time around one another, the thicker the tension grew. It wasn't bad, per se, but it was a definite layer of stress that added to the weight already settled squarely on the vault dweller's shoulders.
Exacerbating the problem was the fact that Tuesday's emotional state was even more a mess following the revelation she'd had upon entering the Institute. She'd finally worked up the nerve to face her fears, and the moment she relayed in she found that the truth was much more frightening than all the stories the Commonwealth had cooked up about the shady organization.
"I can't believe he's sixty fucking years old," she choked out for seemingly the hundredth time since returning to Sanctuary. She was sunk into the couch in the yellow house that acted as their base of operations, and everyone but Piper had vacated the area to give her some space.
The reporter was curled next to her on the couch, legs tucked underneath her, leaving a respectful couple inches between them like she wasn't exactly where they stood through all this tension. "I'm so sorry, Blue," she murmured. Her voice was hoarse from nights without much rest, but she'd refused to leave Tuesday alone since she got back. Her well-meaning comforts were not new, but the question that followed haltingly, as if she were afraid to ask, was. "Does that...change things?"
Tuesday let her head fall back against the cushions in defeat. "I don't know. It definitely makes things a hell of a lot more complicated," she replied miserably. "How am I supposed to destroy this thing when my son is the one heading it up?" That was the question, indeed. Was she still going to be able to side with the Commonwealth when it meant turning against Shaun—not the Shaun she'd expected to find, but the one she'd lost all the same? How was she supposed to convince these people that neither side had to be enemies? The Institute wasn't some vicious monster, and the surface world wasn't some hopeless slum. She sighed before continuing, "He wants me to run a mission for them. Bring an escaped synth back, as a sign of my loyalty or something." At the sour change in Piper's expression, the vault dweller twitched upright to face her. "That doesn't mean I'm going to join them," she assured firmly.
Piper looked just as torn as Tuesday felt. "But…isn't this mission the exact opposite of what the Railroad wants you to do?" she asked thinly.
Tuesday groaned and pushed both hands through her dark hair. It was growing out from its undercut, now. "Yes, but I'm not officially allied with them, either," she reminded. Just like every other faction she'd come across. They all thought they were right, but none of them had her convinced. "I just don't know what to do. There are too many sides to this war and I don't have enough information on any of them."
Piper was silent for a long moment, eyes locked on her own knees. Her freckles stood out in stark contrast against exhaustion-paled cheeks. Tuesday felt a rush of guilt for not paying more attention to her needs since returning. One trip to the Institute and it was like she was already failing her people up here.
The reporter lifted her gaze at length to fix Tuesday with steady hazel eyes. What she said perhaps should not have taken the vault dweller by surprise, but it did. "Whatever you choose, I'll have your back, Blue."
Tuesday raised her head to regard her with lifted brows. "Even if I choose Shaun?" At Piper's nod, the older woman's expression crumpled. "But, Piper, you hate the Institute."
Piper let out a weary sigh and lowered her head. Tuesday could tell that the girl knew exactly what she was agreeing to, and though she didn't like it, "I care about you more than I hate the Institute," the reporter confessed softly.
Tuesday was floored. This was the Institute they were talking about. The one Piper had been raised to believe was evil. The one she'd devoted the better part of her life to opposing. "But—you've been fighting them for all this time," she protested. "All the papers you've published. All the people they've hurt—"
Piper cut her off with a look so intense it seemed to burn straight into her. There was a sadness behind it; a quiet hope that her friend wouldn't ask her to sacrifice the beliefs of a lifetime, whether she was willing to or not. "I said what I said."
"Piper." Tuesday was choked up by a sudden, overwhelming rush of gratitude for this girl. What had she ever done to deserve Piper? The emotion made her bold, and she grasped the reporter's hands across the dingy couch cushions and ventured on: "Thank you. But I care too much about you to ask that of you."
Piper must have known what she was implying, because she pulled gently away. "Don't," she pleaded with a shake of her head. "Don't let me stop you from making whatever choice you think is right. You're the hero of the Commonwealth, for crying out loud. You're basically the deciding vote in who wins this war. Me, I'm just—" She scoffed in disgust and pushed to her feet like she could leave the truth behind on the couch. It didn't work. "I'm just Piper; loud, pushy Public Nuisance Number One." She glared down at her lightly scarred, ink-stained hands.
Something about that bitter phrase made all the feelings Tuesday had been wrestling with surge up and barrel through her mind like a freight train. Before she could stop them, they pushed one thought to the forefront with perfect clarity and it tumbled from her lips in a rush. "You're perfect to me."
Piper froze. Her shoulders went stiff as a board. A beat passed while the words hung unrecanted in the air, and then she turned slowly back to Tuesday, her eyes wide and uncertain like she wasn't sure she'd heard correctly. "Wh-what?"
Too late to back out now, Tuesday figured. Though her gut twisted anxiously, this was as good a time as any to break the tension between them. She couldn't just let it grow until it smothered them. She had to tell Piper how she felt at some point; had to know if the feeling was mutual.
She hopped off the couch to narrow the distance between them. "You told me I had to let go," she started, knowing that this was a fairly roundabout explanation but she had to follow the thought through before she lost momentum and it slipped away forever. "Of Nate. And I've been trying, and I've been thinking, and somewhere along the way I realized that you're the most important thing to me in this bloody new world and I want you by my side. For good." She paused to gauge Piper's reaction but couldn't discern much more than shock in her hazel eyes. She didn't stop. "And—if that means destroying the Institute, Shaun or no Shaun, to keep you safe, that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make." Another pause, and the fear was catching up to Tuesday. What if Piper turned her down? She rushed on before the notion could discourage her. "You're the best thing I've found out here, Piper. I'm just sorry it happened two hundred years late."
Piper was completely still, completely quiet, for what seemed like an eternity. When she finally spoke, it was barely a whisper. "What are you saying, Blue?"
"I'm—I'm saying I choose you," Tuesday explained almost desperately, begging Piper to understand. To reciprocate. "Before any other side in this war."
Another long, tense moment hung between them before Piper gathered herself and took a slow step toward the vault dweller; hesitant, as if she wasn't totally sure this was real. Her eyes flickered over Tuesday's face, reading her reaction. When she found nothing but raw hope there, she took another step, hand half-outstretched but held back by the lingering traces of uncertainty. A final pause stole all the air in the room. Then Tuesday opened her arms and Piper crossed the final distance into them with a shuddering exhale. It felt like a key sliding into a lock; like falling into a soft bed after a grueling day; like coming home. It felt like sweet relief.
Tuesday and Piper held each other tightly as if to communicate all the words they still hadn't been able to say. It made up for all the weeks of awkwardness, uncertainty, and pain that had kept them apart until now. It let them simply exist together, closer than they had ever hoped before.
Piper was the first to break the comfortable silence. Her breath a tempting breeze on the vault dweller's neck, she whispered, "I feel the same way, Blue."
Tuesday sighed gratefully into her hair. She was frustrated that it had taken her this long to work up the nerve to confess (if her meandering prose could even be called that), but at the same time she knew this had been the best possible moment for their feelings to come to light. She wasn't totally satisfied yet, though.
"Does this, uh," she began tentatively, pulling back enough to look Piper in the face. "Does this mean we're—?" She couldn't decide whether to focus on the reporter's eyes or her lips, especially when those lips began to curl in a smile, raw and joyful and everything bright about Piper packaged into one radiant look.
Thankfully, the reporter decided for her by leaning in hesitantly; pausing for one breathless second before taking a leap of faith and catching Tuesday's own lips in a kiss. It was just as light as their brief contact before the Glowing Sea, but longer, more certain. The vault dweller tightened her grip on the reporter's waist in silent approval, and when Piper pulled back, her grin had grown impossibly more blinding.
"Yeah," she replied simply. "Yeah, that sounds good."
…
Tuesday took Piper along on the mission Father had assigned her as a kind of preliminary test. It felt less wrong that way; like a compromise between the two diametrically opposed halves of her world.
They had just reached the shack built into the ruins of the Libertalia cargo ship, and while X6-88 scouted ahead a few rooms, the two women took the chance to enjoy a welcome breather.
"Nights like these, a warm spot with a cold beer would be heaven," Piper's voice cut the quiet, softly for once.
Tuesday looked over to see her leaning against the open doorway of the shack, gaze aimed out over the impressive view this place commanded. The ocean stretched black and unknown to the horizon on their right, and the faint silhouette of Boston to the distant left. Piper's face was framed against it in striking profile. The ruddy light from the cabin fell over her figure in stark contrast to the blue nightscape, and the scene was like something straight out of a prewar painting.
It made something warm and serene bloom in Tuesday's chest, and she gave in to the urge to say, "That can be arranged, once we're done here," in a low tone. Just a short time ago she would have kept such suggestive quips to herself, but after their conversation back at Sanctuary, her fears that she and Piper weren't on the same page had been assuaged. She no longer felt the same gnawing uncertainty when she met Piper's eyes and held them, or the same nervousness when a hint of a blush tinted the reporter's cheeks. She was even less tripped up by her guilt over Nate after these few months.
She felt freer, and the feeling was reflected right back in the grin that Piper returned her.
"Maybe I'll take you up on that."
It was then that X6 reentered the room, laser rifle across his chest, and reported, "The way is clear until the captain's cabin. The door is locked."
Piper gave the vault dweller a knowing wiggle of her brows. "Nothing Blue can't handle, I'm sure," she endorsed.
Tuesday took that as her cue to get moving again, following the Courser to the door a few flights of stairs above. The blue metal door was indeed locked tight, but one look at the mechanism told her that it wouldn't take more than a minute to crack.
"Watch my back," she said to X6 as she crouched down in front of the lock, sliding her bobby pins out of a tiny compartment in her belt. She mostly wanted him as far from her as possible until she trusted the Institute more (which wasn't guaranteed to ever happen). She was comforted when Piper took up a position closer to her side than the synth, eyeing him even more warily. It let her focus completely on the lock, manipulating the tumblers until one, two, and then all three of them slid into place. The catch released under her practiced touch, and she straightened up and pocketed her bobby pins in the same motion, letting out a satisfied, "There it is," quiet enough that it wouldn't reach the ears of any enemies lying in wait on the other side.
Piper gave an impressed grunt. "Can't keep you out," she murmured as she came up behind Tuesday, pistol trained on the newly accessible door to the captain's cabin.
The vault dweller looked back and half-smiled at their unintended closeness. "You should see what else these hands can do."
It was out of her mouth before she could check herself, and hers and Piper's eyes widened at the same time before flicking anxiously to X6 behind them. He either hadn't noticed or hadn't comprehended her double meaning, which was a slight relief, but Tuesday grimaced anyway. Two overtly flirtatious comments in one trip? Maybe she was getting a little too comfortable with this newfound freedom between herself and Piper.
"Sorry. I didn't think," she backpedaled, not sure if the crimson in Piper's cheeks was a good sign.
"No. No, obviously not," conceded Piper in a tone humorous enough to give Tuesday some relief. She kept her gaze trained stubbornly down her weapon's sights, though, refusing to look the vault dweller in the eye. Tuesday was concerned by that until Piper cleared her throat abruptly and, cheeks turning darker, added stumblingly, "But I, uh—ahem. Might, uh, take you up on that too, sometime." She spared a half-second glance to judge Tuesday's reaction and the endearment of the nervous little gesture, combined with the unexpected turn of what she'd thought was a ruined conversation, made the vault dweller break into a grin.
"You're awfully smooth for just a public nuisance," she teased, gratified by the embarrassed smile that Piper aimed at the ground for that. She may have responded, but X6 suddenly reminded them of his presence with a short noise.
"Ladies," he cut in, and his voice was even firmer than usual. "We have a mission."
"Right. Sorry." Tuesday refocused her attention on the door, raising her rifle (and if her eyes cut back to Piper's for an instant and found the reporter watching her, too, well, she supposed that wasn't a problem).
…