Dogmeat jumped on the bed and Nora croaked, pain flaring across her body. She hurt all over, and worse than that was the sensation of weakness, her strength sapped and limbs feeling heavy as power armour. Her thoughts were sluggish, too.
She'd left Dogmeat in Sanctuary, hadn't she? Why did she hurt so bad?
She pushed the thoughts away, wanting to return to sweet oblivion - only Dogmeat whined, his cold nose pressed to her cheek. His tongue rasped and she groaned, lolling her head away.
"Hey, you awake princess?"
The voice sounded strangely muffled, like her ears were stuffed with cotton wool. She just wanted to sleep.
Dogmeat huffed loudly, dog breath cloying her nostrils.
Something pricked her arm, but when she tried to move it, there was resistance. Dogmeat settled at her side.
An itch crept through her veins, slowly igniting her nerves and rousing her. Nora's eyelids fluttered, sleep becoming a distant horizon as she stirred.
Reality slowly became more than Dogmeat's warmth. She could hear people talking, though they sounded distant. Footsteps, drawing closer.
Dogmeat's tail whipped against her leg as he stirred, rising to greet someone. Who? Preston? Danse?
Danse. There was something about Danse…
Fingers gripped her cheeks, turning her head. Tobacco and gunpowder mixed with the smell of dog.
Nora opened her eyes with monumental effort, struggling to blink away her blurred vision.
"You waking up, sweetheart?"
The voice was familiar, but she couldn't place it.
Where's Danse?
"What did you give her?" the familiar voice asked.
"Just a little bit psycho-buff. Figured it'd wake her up some." The first voice answered.
The shadows slowly blurred into silhouettes. Two people standing over her in a dark space. One of them turned on a lamp, the sudden light burning her eyes. Nora squeezed them shut with a hiss.
The familiar voice tsked. "She looks like shit."
"Still better looking than most. Besides, I thought you wanted to keep her a bit messed up - can't make it too easy for her friends to find her."
"True…She'll still need something a little more drastic, though."
"You mean the usual?"
"That's what I love about you, Frost. You stay frosty til we hit the bedroll."
"Aw stop Sarge, you're making me blush."
Nora cracked her eyes open again, and gradually her vision came into focus. A man and a woman were standing over her, both dressed in Gunner green with the infamous marked skull prominent on their sleeves.
The woman's face was partially concealed by a grinning skull bandanna, half her head shaved so that blonde hair framed one cheek, the ends dyed a pale blue that complimented the glacial gaze of the man beside her.
Sparkes.
He grinned a crooked yellow smile, tapping the brim of his hat. "Hello sweetheart. Sleep well?"
Nora's mouth was too dry to speak. All she emitted was a soft groan, and beside her a dog shifted - not Dogmeat. Luck.
Luck whined and licked at her cheek again.
Sparkes looked to Frost, gave her a more genuine smile and signalled for something. Frost winked, her eyes briefly darting back to Nora before she turned heel and disappeared behind a grimy hospital screen.
Sparkes lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress, Luck immediately dropping her head into his lap. He grabbed a bottle off a nightstand beside the bed and unscrewed the lid before pressing it to Nora's lips.
Water.
She swallowed two mouthfuls before it caught in her throat and left her spluttering, spraying droplets across the sheets.
"Drink slowly, sweetheart," Sparkes said in a slow, patronising voice. "Don't want you dying on me now."
He replaced the bottle to her lips when she'd settled, letting the water trickle rather than flow. Nora's mouth tasted vile, ash and grit washing down with the water.
When the bottle ran dry, he set it aside. "Better?"
Nora swallowed. Her throat felt like she'd swallowed glass, but she gave him a single nod.
"Good. Do you know how you got here?"
Nora shook her head faintly.
"Well, let me tell you then. The Gunners have been holding our own against the muties. We've had a few losses and casualties, but the big uglies paid such a high price, they gave up trying to overwhelm our defenses." Sparkes absently trailed his fingers across Luck's coat, his eyes fixed to Nora's. "My crew just so happened to be on watch when we see one of them dragging a body. Well, what we thought was a body. Our assaultron detected some vitals.
"So they sicced the bot on the mutie to bring the survivor indoors, and who should it be but you…" He grinned. "If it was anyone else, might've rented them out to relieve some of the tension in here. But you? You get preferential treatment. I figure it's only right, what with you being the Minutemen General and all."
"What… do you want?" Nora's voice was a painful rasp.
"What I've got, sweetheart!" Sparkes grinned wider, ruffling Luck's ears. He leaned in. "I hand you in to command, I'll be able to retire and give my people the caps they've earned."
Nora glared back, the itch in her veins becoming a burn. She was too weak to move, her body protesting every miniscule motion with pain, but she wanted to shove him away and strike him.
The partition hooks scraped as Frost reappeared, and Sparkes rose to his feet, snapping his fingers for Luck to hop down beside him. "Remember, she still has to appear stylish enough to run with us, or nobody'll believe it," he said, addressing Frost.
"I know what I'm doing, Sarge," Frost replied.
"I know. Just making sure nothing's misunderstood." He glanced back to Nora. "By the way. What happened to your friends? The kid and the big, scary paladin?"
Something inside Nora cracked, the burn of psycho washed away by a tide of dread.
Danse was…
She saw his armoured body strike the wall, the behemoth holding him aloft like an abused toy soldier.
And Burke…
Burke's face, bone white beneath the smoke and eyes pleading, begging her to stay…
She squeezed her eyes shut, turning her head away.
Behind her, Sparkes sighed. "Shame. Could've made some more caps."
The partition rattled again, and his footsteps grew distant.
Fingers combed through Nora's hair and she jerked, turning to find Frost looming over her.
"It's a shame, really," Frost said. "You've got such nice hair… But orders are orders and you've gotta fit in."
Nora was too numb to feel much of anything as her hair fell to the floor, more little pieces of herself lost. She'd always been proud of her hair, working to maintain it post war and going through painstaking lengths to stay within the Brotherhood's regs so she wouldn't have to cut it. But now…
Now it didn't matter. She was too empty to feel pride, the only emotion within her exhausted grief. Danse was dead. Burke had been left to fend for himself in a warzone.
Did I really think I was saving him?
She squeezed her eyes shut, but there were no tears left to hold back.
"Think that'll do it," Frost announced, setting aside her scissors. She grabbed a speckled mirror from the nightstand and held it up.
Nora gazed dully at her reflection.
Her long, dark locks were gone. Instead, Frost had opted for a pixie cut with a short, choppy fringe.
"Not even a 'thank you?'" Frost huffed.
When Nora didn't reply, Frost set the mirror aside. "No fucking gratitude."
She grabbed Nora's arm and dragged her to her feet. She'd stripped Nora to her underwear before cutting her hair, but let her keep the chain with her rings and dog tags. Frost pursed her lips as she rifled through a duffel bag, throwing some ragged green pants on the bed followed by a shirt.
She helped Nora to dress, giving her back her Brotherhood issue boots for the sake of practicality, and then drew the partition aside. She gripped Nora's arm and pulled her from the alcove.
Industrial lights illuminated the room beyond with a harsh brightness that hurt Nora's eyes. Her head swam and she staggered, legs weak and shaking. Frost gripped her bicep and kept her walking, past other partitioned alcoves to where a circle of crates was set around a fire barrel. Most of the crates were occupied, Sparkes seated on the nearest with Luck at his side.
The cigarette on his lips flared as he stood, looking Nora up and down. His lips twitched into a lopsided smile, smoke pouring from his nostrils.
"Not a bad look on you, sweetheart. Green's your colour."
"Dunno. Think I prefer the purple bruises," a man growled from the opposite side of the barrel. His own face was battered, nose flattened and crooked.
"Be nice, Beau. She's what's gonna pay to pretty up your face again, remember?"
There were a few snorts from Beau's comrades, and his scowl became even uglier.
Sparkes rolled his eyes, his smile stretching wider as he regarded Nora. His gaze dipped to Nora's chest, and he stepped forwards, reaching. Nora made to recoil, only to feel Frost squeeze her arm in warning.
The first few buttons had been left open, and Sparkes reached past the fabric, his fingers cold where they brushed her skin. And then a new chill passed through her when she realised what he was reaching for.
Her wedding bands glinted in the firelight, and suddenly her heart was beating painfully fast, the dizziness and nausea almost unbearable. White noise filled her ears, and the low whistle Sparkes made sounded distant and muffled.
"Well, well. These'll get a fair price."
"NO!" Nora's free hand snatched her rings back and she stumbled backwards. Her legs betrayed her.
Frost let her fall, releasing her hold and stepping back as Sparkes stepped closer, taking another drag of his cigarette. Luck whined unhappily, rising to her paws.
Sparkes stepped over Nora before crouching down, almost straddling her. His eyes burned coldly.
Instinctively Nora wanted to look away, to curl up in a foetal position.
But she bared her teeth instead and forced herself to glare back.
Sparkes held one hand out, palm up. He flexed his fingers.
"Hand them over, sweetheart."
Nora clenched her jaw, tightening her hold on her rings. I won't let him take Nate. I won't.
"Okay." Sparkes smiled without mirth, rising to his feet. "That's absolutely fine."
He kicked out, and Nora's head slammed against the floor, his boot pressing into her cheek. For a moment all Nora saw was white, and then he ground the sole against her skin, the pain drawing her back in a haze of red.
He removed his boot - and stamped on her stomach.
All Nora managed was a strangled choke, hands reaching to feebly scratch at his leg. Sparkes leaned down, his eyes wild and bright.
Behind him the other Gunners had risen to gather around, their faces leering at her.
"Brotherhood not teach you any manners, sweetheart?" Sparkes grinned, his voice sweet and venomous. "Too used to lording it over the Minutemen? When I give you a fucking order-" he emphasised with a stamp. "You follow the fucking order."
Stamp.
"Even the fucking zombies-"
Stamp.
"Follow my fucking orders."
Stamp. Something cracked, fresh agony whiting out her vision for only a second. And then Sparkes was leering down at her with the rest.
"You got that, sweetheart?"
All Nora could do was gasp, struggling to breathe through the pain.
Sparkes lunged forward and then reeled back. A fresh sting seared about her neck.
Her rings and holotags shone as he stepped back, dangling from their chain between his fingers. He took another drag of his cigarette, smiling as he exhaled.
He slipped the rings from the chain.
"Beau."
Beau stepped forward, his eyes widening when Sparkes held the rings out towards him.
"Consider this an apology from our Brotherhood friend here. Use the caps to fix yourself up."
Beau grinned as Nora's - Nate's - rings flashed in the firelight, landing in his filthy palm.
Despite herself Nora tried to move - only for Frost to plant a boot firmly on her chest and pin her with a hush.
Sparkes slipped her holotags in the breast pocket of his jacket. His eyes met Nora's, watched as she feebly struggled. He grinned ever wider.
"It's alright, sweetheart," he cooed. "You won't need any of them where you're going."