This chapter has explicit parts in it, but I marked them with a warning (M), if you would like to avoid them. Skipping it will not compromise the storyline! I know some people aren't fond of that aspect of my writing, so I like to give everyone an opportunity to avoid it!
Boy, this chapter is just teeming with drama - my favorite!|
Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
INTO THE FOG
Morning came, stagnant and agonizing. I felt like I was awash on the shore of a beach. I could feel columns of sunlight warming the cracked skin of my ruddy cheeks. I could feel soft surges of water, nauseous and swirling into little bubbles along the pit of my stomach. I groaned, pushing the heels of my hands into the soft part of my temples. I could smell the ocean, like heavy salt and fish. It made me heave.
I sat up, pushing an outstretched hand into the sunlight invading the small shack. Dust swirled and danced in the sully pillar of light that crept through the cracks of the old building. It was disgustingly bright outside. I groaned and resisted the urge to bury my face back into my pillow.
Slowly, as if I was solving a complex equation, I remembered the events that had transpired in the night before. I groaned loudly, grabbing the old, musty straw pillow and shoved it into my face. "You have got to be kidding me," I whimpered, realizing just how awkward my day was about to be. "You are such an idiot," I whispered, punching the pillow lightly over my face.
I jumped, startled as a knock came to the door of the old shack. I heard a pair of keys jangle, twist in the rusting lock mechanism and the door swung open. I could feel a gust of cold, salty air on the side of my face. But I refused to move the pillow. "Whaaat?" I mumbled through the fabric. The door shut with a quiet thud and I could hear footsteps. I still refused to move the pillow from my face. I already knew who it was. I didn't need to look.
"I see you are up early," came his voice, which sounded like a hundred panes of glass shattering atop a hundred screaming rocks, while a hundred crazed goats screamed in a valley, surrounded by a million Gatling guns firing at an explosive barrel.
"Shhhh, sh, shhh," I said, holding up a hand. I could hear Danse sigh. He roughly took the pillow from my hands and threw it back down on the bed. I recoiled in the sunlight, lifting a hand to my eyes. "Ugh," I grimaced, rolling my tongue around in my sour mouth. I knew I was still upset, I could feel that once boiling wave of rage had dissipated into a pale, weak blue flame, but it was still there. I didn't have the energy to stoke it, however.
"Get up," he said firmly. I ignored him and dropped my head between clasped hands and took a deep breath. "Avery wants to speak with you," he said impatiently. I kept ignoring him, doing my best to pretend it wasn't Danse speaking to me, but a figment of my imagination. A very annoying figment. "The longer you wait, the worse it will be," he added, picking up a nearby bottle and swirling the contents and looking closely at it.
"It's just water," I growled, slowly standing up. I snatched the bottle out of his hands and drank it greedily. I tossed the bottle on the bed and began gathering things to clean myself up. I found an old bowl and shattered pitcher tucked away inside of an old wooden cupboard. I pulled it out and set it atop a metal table. All the while, Danse just stood and watched me silently. Maybe he thought I would make a run for it, get out of the Harbor before I had to answer for my crimes. I didn't know and I didn't care. My head felt like was filled with a mixture of cement and live wasps.
I pulled another bottle of water from my gear and poured it into a large tin can. I set it atop a Bunsen burner and turned it on. I then reached down and started unhooking my chest harness. I pulled my shotgun off, clicked open the barrel to check the chamber and tossed it on the bed. I went about pulling off the aged leather, slipping it down both my shoulders. I checked on my water, found it to be warm enough and poured the contents of the can into the chipped, yellow bowl. I pulled an old red bandanna from my pocket and dropped it in the warm water.
As I slipped off my plaid button-down shirt, Danse sighed, annoyed and turned to face the corner. Always a man of very few words. I just rolled my eyes and snorted. He had seen me in some very compromising situations, yet here he stood, afraid to see me in my underthings. I went about washing my face and hair. The warm water felt soothing against my clammy skin. As I worked on my arms, slowly and on purpose, I could tell he was getting rather impatient. So I decided I needed to wash my face again.
"I will meet you outside," he finally gave in. As he turned to shuffle towards the chipped, red painted door, he paused, his eyes downcast at the floor. I followed his gaze and saw the faded, folded paper that had fallen out of my breast pocket. The letter he had left me, all those seven months ago. I slammed my boot down on it, his eyes skittered up to meet mine. I used the toe of my boot and kicked the paper under the frame of the old, rusty bed. His gaze lingered on me for a moment, taking in the scowl stitched into my brows, the jagged, puckered scar covering my right eye, the drops of water gliding from the tips of my short brown locks. I tried to read his eyes in that split second, catching the fleeting glint of something other that brown stillness. He quickly finished his course and opened the door. He paused in the doorway, his back stiff, hand clenching the knob of the door. After a brief moment, he closed the door behind him.
I quickly grabbed the soaked, red handkerchief and threw it as hard as I could at the door. It hit the wood with a wet thud and fell to the floor. I growled, at the empty room and dropped to my knees. I reached under the bed and scrounged around for that stupid piece of paper. I caught the faded edge of it between my fingers and pulled it out. Unfolding the worn paper, that I had read a hundred times, I grasped either side of it between each hand. As it began to tear down the center fold, I paused. My eyes trickled over the written words. "You are a massive idiot," I whispered to myself. I dropped to the floor, stretching out my legs and pressing the soles of my boots to the worn, wooden planks of the floor. I hung my head between my knees and crumpled the paper in the palm of my hand. I let myself feel everything all at once.
I opened the shack door, the cold morning air felt better since I cleaned myself up. I adjusted the front of my coat, buttoning the top button to close around my neck. Danse stood from his relaxed position at the side of the door. I glanced at him, studying his dark figure. He had cut his hair since the last time I saw him. Most of his wounds had healed, though he had a nice new scar along the left side of his jaw. It was jagged and unsightly, something a piece of glass or crude tool would make. I grimaced inwardly, trying not to think of what he had to endure during his time below the Prydwen in those dark cells. He wore a brown, leather bomber jacket, a simple white shirt beneath it, impeccably clean. I looked away, off into the waters. He hadn't changed much. He was still the same asshole I remembered, slightly more jaded, still self-loathing.
"Lets get this over with," I sighed, starting down the pier without him. He followed me quietly. Nothing was said between us, save for the steady sound of boots of wood.
Avery was standing on the main gate, an old hunting rifle in her hands. I sucked in a lungful of air and slowly climbed the stairs up to her. They seemed to go on forever. Danse stood at the foot of the stairs, his arms clasped behind him, still looking like a soldier, as always.
Avery turned to meet me, nothing registered on her face. But she did seem anxious. I cleared my throat, "I know what you are thinking," I said, sounding a lot louder than I meant to. She held up a hand and shook her head.
"I don't know you or your story. Whatever happened, happened. No one got hurt. Save for you, I reckon," she said, a small smile in the corners of mouth. I ran a hand over the back of my neck and smiled back, sheepishly. "I'm no detective like you, but I can imagine you had a good reason for what you did," she said "I have no qualms with you being here," she added, giving her shoulders a slight shrug. "Just, lay off the sauce," she joked. I gave a small, muffled laugh and nodded.
"Good idea," I breathed. I slowly neared the edge of the rampart and stared out into the foggy treeline. Avery came to stand next to me.
"Now you see what we're up against," she sighed, shifting on her feet, "The fog and creatures it spits out have taken the whole island from my people." I nodded in reply, frowning. "Thank you for your help, when we needed it," she added. I shrugged.
"Everyone's got problems. I was happy to help," I sighed, glancing over my shoulder at Danse. Avery followed my gaze. She could sense that there was something between us. Though I'm sure Danse tried to play it off as if we were nearly strangers.
"How do you know Cutler?" she asked, catching my gaze. I held my breath for a moment, trying to decide how to answer. And trying not to look baffled at what she had called him. Cutler? He was using an alias, which means Nick had met him. Danse was the man looking for work in Diamond City that Nick had mentioned to me.
"We used to work together," I replied. Danse didn't enjoy us looking at him and quietly found a different place to stand around and be annoying and useless at.
"Bad blood runs deep," she said with a nod. I looked at her, my eyes soft, thankful she understood. I liked her. She wasn't nosy, like most people, firm, yet forgiving. No wonder she ran this place. "I don't need to know the details. But from what I have seen, he's a good man," she mused. I had to disagree, but I didn't say it out loud. I just gave a slight nod and bit the inside of my cheek.
"How did he end up here?" I asked, as I began to walk down the stairs. She took up next to me, matching my pace.
"Showed up, like you, said he heard we had problems and needed help," she said, recalling their meeting, "I was so impressed by his no-nonsense attitude, I made him the unofficial sheriff around here," she added. I gave my eyes a slight roll. Somehow I always had to answer to that man. It was life's sick joke.
As we walked down the streets of the harbor, I caught Danse's figure standing along the outside of a vendor's shop. He looked uncomfortable. A woman was talking to him. She seemed all too happy to be, as well. I looked away, catching Avery's gaze again. She was observant. I quickly distracted her with a question.
"So, what is the fog," I said, trying to get away from Danse and his new friend. Avery stopped and siddled up the railing along the edge of the pier. I stood beside her and looked out at the water, refusing to turn around. She wasn't just observant, she was calculating as well. I don't blame her though, I would want to know if newcomers were trustworthy too. To give her credit, I had just made a scene the night before.
"Where to begin," she sighed, opening and closing her arms in frustration. "The fog is radioactive. But there are pockets of it... the deep fog - that are hard fallout. And as deadly as that is, that's only part of the problem," she sighed. "Things... live, in the fog... thrive. You think what attacked the harbor is bad? Well, there is far worse further inland."
I turned to look at her, my eyes narrowing to mere slits. I'd seen a lot of terrifying creatures on the mainland. Things I never thought I would see, in my life before. I took what she said with a grain of salt. But despite all those monsters, stuff of nightmares, the Commonwealth marched on. "You lost, the whole island?" I said, incredulous. She sighed and nodded.
"The fog has been here forever. There are good years, when it would seize, and it would be almost normal. Then, there are times when it spreads all over. People have to cling to any patch of land, free of the fog. For the past eight years or so, it's been getting as bad as it has ever been," she said anxiously. "Now, Far Harbor is one of the only places left that's safe."
I was so caught up in ignoring Danse, I hadn't noticed a man standing near us. Allen, if I had remembered his name correctly, from the night before. He spoke up, loudly. "I'm tired of cowering behind your damn wall, Avery," he said hotly. My eyes shifted from Avery to Allen, my hand coming to rest by my sides, where I could reach my gun if I needed to. "It's time you let me deal with the real problem. With the right people and my guns, I can end those Children of Atom cultists for good," he said angrily. I rose a brow, glancing at Danse, who was watching the three of us from afar. He was ignoring the woman standing before him, babbling on. Something told me, Allen was a frequent problem.
Avery spoke up, "The fog has been here forever. The children didn't make it," she replied, her voice taunt with annoyance.
"Before the rad-eaters came, the fog was under control," he replied, his eyes tepid and glittering, "They come and now it all goes wrong. It's time we do something," he said, throwing his hands up. I was all too familiar with the Children of Atom. There were quite a few of them in the Commonwealth. They were mostly regarded as crazy, but harmless. No one cared if they wanted to stand around in rad storms until their faces melted off. It was their prerogative.
"No need to bother our new friend with all this nonsense," Avery hissed.
"I'm pretty well acquainted with them," I chimed in, "But they're harmless crazies," I added with a shrug.
"We used to have a peace with them, until a certain hot head menace named Allen Lee," she said, raising her voice and looking at him, annoyed.
"Alright, that's enough, that preacher wandered into the harbor, saying it was Atom's will that we lost the land, all our friends, all those people!"
Before I could respond, Danse appeared beside us. He didn't need to say anything. You usually don't when you're built like a solid oak with a face that angry looking. Allen swore under his breath and meandered away, grumbling.
"Thanks, Cutler," Avery sighed, watching the angry bearded hot head wander away to the bar. I glanced between Avery and Danse, trying not too look too amused at his new name. "Before Cutler here arrived, people like Allen were a burden. There was no law, no police, just agreements and common sentiment," Avery explained. I could understand that. I thought back to Rhys, one of my first comrade's in the Brotherhood. Always angry, without provocation. I just shook my head and looked back at the lapping waters. "Now, you were looking for Kasumi," she said, glancing at Danse. I nodded, still holding my gaze on the waters. "She went inland, to the synth refuge, Acadia," she said matter-of-factly. I turned around, meeting Danse's withering gaze. He had that look in his eye, the one that said Be Quiet. "You'll need a guide," she added, and motioned over to the bar Allen had wandered into.
"I can take her," Danse interjected, his gaze, hard, steely, unforgiving, still on me. I gave me head a shake, my eyes widened slightly.
"No, I'll be fine," I quipped. Danse raised a furrowed brow.
"You've never been in that fog. You'll get lost before sundown," he replied sourly.
"Although I hate to lose Cutler for more than a day, he is right," Avery chimed in. "People get lost in the fog and we never see them again. I think you should take him up on the offer, Fox," she said. I could see something there, in the gleam of her small brown eyes. I scrunched up my nose, ever so slightly and scowled. Avery took a few steps to the side, "And let me say something you might not hear again," she said softly, "Thank you." And with that, she walked off into town. She was sly, I would give her that.
I turned on my heel, "Fuckin' great," I sighed under my breath. The last thing I wanted, was to be stuck in a dense, fog-filled wilderness with the king of crabbiness at my heels. Barking orders and making pointless and inane statements to lower my self-esteem.
"You have an hour to gather your gear. The faster you get to Acadia, the faster we can all pretend you were never here," he said hoarsely. I spun around and tossed him a venomous glare. I could imagine my knuckles colliding with the ridge of his jaw and how good it would feel.
"No need to be so sentimental," I snarled, seeping with sarcasm and anger. "You can't even pretend to tolerate my presence, can you?"
"You show up here, in the dead of night, you scare half the town out of its mind, threaten me with a loaded gun and drank your own body weight in liquor you didn't even pay for," he said, closing the small gap between us. He loomed above me like a thick, dark thundercloud, "No, Delta, I can't tolerate you."
I marched off to my little shack and slammed the door behind me. I kicked the wall, putting a hole through the brittle planks. I pretended it was his face and kicked it again. There. I felt better.
I began to pack my things up. I didn't have very much ammunition left, so I had to be very careful about what I was shooting at. I slid every last shell into the bandoleer I carried and slung it around my shoulder. In my pack, I carried a few essentials; water, which I was low on, food, which was tasteless and usually partially moldy - and stimpacks. Then, tucked under a rolled up shirt, was a fix of Psycho. I had never used it. But a vendor at Diamond City had given it to me to sweeten the deal on my purchase. He said it was like a pure shot of adrenaline and it was good to have if you lost a limb or were in dire straights. I just accepted it thinking I would trade it for something more useful in the future. I would use that to get more shells and water. People went crazy for drugs. Especially if it affected your combat.
I shoved everything back into my pack and slung it over my shoulders. I took one last glance around the room and saw the crumbled letter sitting in the corner of the room. I toed over to it and scooped it up in my hand. I rolled it around a moment. I unfurled it, smoothed out the edges and set it down on the counter. Then I blew out the lantern and left, shutting the door behind me.
I had five minutes left after I had eaten at the bar. No one was too happy to see me there, but a girl's got to eat. Mitch, the bartender, who I had been more than rude too, accepted my apologies and offered me a hair from the dog that bit me. Though the very idea of consuming alcohol made me want to retch, I accepted it and drank it with a pained grimace. I bid him a brief goodbye and made my way to a vendor. Danse was there, talking, tolerating the woman who he had conversed with earlier in the morning. I moved past them, never offering even a glance and plopped my pack down on the counter. I could hear the woman laugh, which I'm sure was related to the idea that I was a sloppy, drunken idiot. I gave me teeth a gentle click together and smiled at the man in the window before me.
"I need some ammo and some water, please," I said softly. He pulled out two boxes of shells and three bottles of water and slid them in front of me. I opened the mouth of my bag and fished around inside. "Just the one box, I'm afraid," I sighed and placed the shot of Psycho on the counter. I could feel the heat from Danse's eyes on my back. I could almost smell the stench of burning fabric under that intense gaze.
"I heard that stuff makes you want to peel the skin right off your own bones," the woman said, in a disgusted, shocked tone. I sighed and turned around, smiling from ear to ear.
"Oh yeah, it does," I said nodding in agreement, "It's fuckin' fantastic for sex though," I added, raising my brows and nodding humbly. She lifted her lip, thoroughly disgusted with my words and probably my presence overall. I looked at Danse, the fake, clueless grin still plastered to my face, "Ain't that right, Cutler?" I said enthusiastically. I reached forward and playfully punched his shoulder. He just glared down at me, his arms crossed. I think there was actually fire dancing behind those eyes. I turned back to the vendor and collected my wares, shoved them back into my bag and pulled the strings tight at its mouth. "Welp, I'll see you two lovely folks later," I said, giving a fake bow and pretending to lift a hat from my head.
"Hopefully not anytime soon," the woman remarked as I began to walk away. I stopped, the pack swinging from my side slowly. Just keep walking. Just walk, walk right out of those gates. I took a rocky breath. Just as I lifted my foot from the ground, she spoke again, "To think, someone like that raised a poor, innocent child." It was in that moment, everything in a five mile radius stopped moving. You know that sound, just before a tornado touches down? Silence and then the throttling sound of chaos, like a locomotive barreling down to earth. It was akin to that.
I turned on my heel, my eyes caught hers. She backed up ever so slightly. "Pardon?" I said, taking a step forward. Danse was immediately on damage control. He slipped the pack off of my shoulder and stepped in between the two of us. "No, no, let her say her piece," I said, sidestepping him. I had seen the look in her eyes a hundred times. Someone who couldn't back up their attitude. Danse placed a hand on my shoulder. It felt weightless. "Do I know you?" I asked her, my face looked confused, as if I was trying to suss out who she was.
"Thank god, no," she sighed, doubling down. I could feel that heaviness in my fist, that weight that accompanied a impulsive need to punch something. And her face would look so much better with a broken nose.
"I didn't think so. You kind of look like this girl I used to know," I sighed. Danse gripped my shoulder tightly, pulling lightly. He was caught between making a scene with his own involvement or letting me batter a poor woman. "Yeah, you couldn't be her. She had all her teeth, for one thing," I nodded, pursing my mouth. She rolled her eyes and glanced at Danse.
"What?" she asked snidely, crossing her arms. Before Danse even had a chance to stop it, my fist had made contact with her mouth. There was a sickening cracking sound against the thud of my gloved fist. She squealed out in pain, bringing both her hands to her mouth. Danse had grabbed me around the waist and hoisted me up. As he walked briskly away, I could see the soft lines of red seeping between her fingers. I smiled smugly. But I could only revel in my kill-shot for so long. Danse roughly propelled me into a small opening between two buildings and blocked the opening with his wide frame.
"What is wrong with you?" he practically shouted. He dropped my pack to the ground. I shrugged and wiped at my knuckle absently. Apparently, my indifference to the assault I had just committed, angered him even more. He grabbed both my shoulders and shoved me into the nearest wall. "You can't just go around punching people that say things you don't like," he growled. I didn't respond, just stared at him blankly. He let go of me roughly and pressed his fingers to the side of his temple and sighed. "Stay here while I clean up your mess," he rasped. He disappeared through the opening and I heard his footfalls fade into the distance. I straightened my shoulder, which was very sore from being manhandled by the human equivalent to a grizzly bear. I snatched my pack from the ground and looped it back over my shoulder.
Danse appeared again in the alleyway. I took a step back, expecting to be batted around like a cat toy. "You need to go out there and apologize," he said seriously. I just laughed.
"Hell no. She learned a good lesson," I replied, my tone half amused, half angry. "Every choice we make has a repercussion," I said with a shrug. School's in kids and I'm your teacher. Today's lesson: don't talk crazy to people you don't know. He grabbed me by the crook of my elbow and steered me into the sunlight again. There was a small gathering of people around the woman, who was holding a dirty dishrag to her mouth as someone fawned over her. I set my jaw and pushed my feet into the ground, refusing to move from the spot. "If you want me to apologize, you will have to physically reach into my mouth and yank those words out," I said snidely. He growled deep in his throat and let go of me. He lumbered back to the group. He exchanged a few words with them, motioning to me. The woman I had punched, nodded, touched his elbow and smiled weakly. I wanted to throw up.
As Danse approached me and grabbed the crook of my arm again, I waved at the group of people and smiled. He dragged me towards the front gate and stopped before them. "What did you say to them?" I asked curiously. He smoothed back his hair and straightened his jacket by the lapels.
"That you were high and didn't know what you were doing. You know, drugs are bad," he said curtly, looking at me through the side of his eyes. I scowled dramatically. "And they shouldn't worry because I was escorting you out of town immediately." The gates groaned and clicked until they were open. He gave me a light shove and followed me through the mouth of the gates. "Soon, all you will be is a bad memory for these people," he sighed. A man handed him a laser rifle from behind us and the gates grumbled shut, leaving us to face the fog and whatever manner of creature lay deep inside of it.
We headed west, towards Acadia. I didn't know much about it, other than what Avery had called it. A synth refuge. As we made our way westward, we passed all matter of buildings. Most had been abandoned long ago. Even then, having been out of the vault so long, it still saddened me to see the traces of people in my time. Toys scattered on front porches, mailboxes that once held letters, postcards, Christmas cards. I lived in a house, just like them. It was the combination of my own pain, my own past, and knowing these people faced a fate even worse than my own. Obliterated and disintegrating into nothing but ash, dying slow, painful death, succumbed to radiation. Or living and turning into the husk of human being, filled with nothing but rage. It made me shiver under my coat.
"Stay close. The radiation isn't bad this close to Far Harbor, but it gets worse," Danse said coldly, his rifle gripped firmly in both hands. I thought back to the days we both served Elder Maxson. When we would form a scouting party, much like this. We would delve into a raider fort, or super mutant fortress. It was living life on that edge, every day. But when everything you love is gone, what do you have to lose? Sometimes, just to feel something, I had to dance along that thin blade. Until I had met him. I gathered up all those thoughts and shoved them down. Down into that pit we all have. Where we sentence things to live, so we don't have to feel them anymore.
"Did you tell her?" I asked softly, almost a whisper. Danse glanced at me, only for a moment. He looked uncomfortable. He scanned the road ahead of us a moment before answering me.
"No," he said simply. I narrowed my eyes at him, "Not on purpose," he added. I stopped and my mouth dropped open. He paused a moment and motioned for me to keep moving.
"So what, did the fact I had a kid twice my age, just pop up in casual conversation?" I replied bitterly. Danse kept moving, never letting his eyes leave that rolling fog. It seemed to have a life of its own, best not to take one's eyes off of it.
"We can't talk about this right now," he sighed. I stopped in my tracks.
"No, tell me why she knew about Shaun, Danse. Was it fun to stand around and talk about me? Did you all have a nice, good laugh at my expense?" I said angrily. He stopped, pivoted around and put a hand over my mouth. I just maintained my glare at him.
"Please Delta, shut up," he growled. I shoved his hand away. "We can't stand around in the open. We have to move. Now."
"Tell me and I will," I snapped. His eyes were mere slits in his head.
"She overhead me talking to Avery," he reluctantly replied. "And no, I didn't tell her anything other than that. She already-" he stopped and pushed me violently to the side. I hit the pavement and my pack skittered down a small incline. I watched as all of my belongings rolled away from me. God fucking dammit.
I could hear the sharp bark of Danse's laser rifle. I stood to my feet and raised my shotgun to my hip. A group of men had been following us. I released the trigger of my gun and blew two holes straight through a man wielding, what looked like a massive fishing hook. I dodged backwards, popped out the empty shells and reloaded two more from my bandoleer. But as the dust settled, I came to realize there were no more.
"Trappers," Danse hissed, "They must have seen us leave the Harbor," he said more to himself than me. In the distance, something guttural and inhuman roared in the thick, deep, endless fog. "We have to move," he said, his voice overflowing with annoyance. I followed him, glancing over my shoulder at my pack, which was now gone. I let out a little, pathetic sigh and followed suit.
We passed by a group of those salamander creatures that had attacked the Harbor. Gulpers, is what Danse had called them. They were scuffling giant, fish-like creatures. Danse dispatched them quickly with his rifle. I didn't have the distance on my weapon to help. We kept moving, not even stopping to rest. The trip was laden with fog, my geiger counter clicking steadily away. I had taken two doses of Rad-X before we left, which seemed to be keep any irradiation at bay. I would take some RawAway when I reached Acadia, just to be safe. I seemed to soak up rads more quickly than those born in the Commonwealth. They seemed to have built up a little immunity to it. Of course they could still die from too much.
We were nearing the end of our journey, moving much more quickly now, as the further we traveled, the worse the fog had gotten. As we rounded a bend in the road and cleared the treeline, we spotted a woman knelt on the ground, her hands clasped in some sort of prayer. Upon seeing us, she stood to her feet. Danse motioned for me to halt.
The woman was partially bald. All that was left of her hair, was patches of brown strands, sticking to three of four parts of her yellowed skin. Her eyes were sunken into her skull, bloodshot and glazed over. She wore rags for clothes and smelled heavily like sulfur and copper.
"Stringing one more soul to their damnation,?" the woman said hotly, aiming her words at Danse. She glanced between the two of us. He lowered his weapon slightly and sighed, I think I saw him roll his eyes. He had obviously dealt with her before. He peered at her through the sides of his eyes.
"I think you should run back to your hole in wall before you get hurt, ma'am," he said seriously.
"Your barbs do not hurt me. I am shielded by my faith," she replied. She was entirely deluded. I couldn't help myself but to stare at the shape she was in. People enjoyed looking like that? She turned her attention to me. "You. I suggest you go no further. Acadia is a nest of snakes. Beasts, that subvert the will of Atom." Oh for the love of god.
"What has Acadia ever done to you?" I said with a chord of confusion.
She glowered, "They supply Far Harbor with the means to turn back Atom's holy fog." I tried not to look overly amused at her words. Certifiably insane. "You would do well to avoid such creatures. Instead, seek the only true master of this land."
I couldn't help it, I had to humor her, "Alright then. I'm listening. Tell me... about Atom," I said casually. Danse snapped his head in my direction. His face said are you serious right now?
"Tell you?" she said with a smile, "Look around, you stride through his kingdom," she said heavily, motioning to the irradiated shithole we were standing in. "A land, blanketed beneath sacred fog," she sighed, almost dazed by her own words. "A land, Atom has claimed for his children," she breathed, happily, contently. "And you may join our family, if he deems you worthy."
"Alright," I shrugged. Her smile deepened and she looked from me to Danse.
"Seek the Nucleus," she said softly and slipped into the misty forest as if she had never even been in front of us. I snorted and looked at Danse.
"What?" I said lifting up my arms, innocently. I opened up the map in my Pip-Boy. "Any idea where this Nucleus place is?" I asked, casually. Admittedly, I was trying to piss him off more than anything - though my curiosity had been piqued. Maybe, deep down, I wanted to make him angry. As angry as I was. He could never let himself get angry. Not to the point I did. He raised his voice, got pushy, but I had never seen him really slip down that steep cusp, into downright enraged.
"No," he answered plainly.
"You do," I challenged him, narrowing my eyes accusingly. He looked away, reloaded a fusion cell into his weapon and sighed noisily.
"Lets go," he finally said, motioning further upwards. I tapped the side of my Pip-Boy, the map fizzing out again. I really needed to open her up and have a good look at it. Ever since I had traveled to the Institute months ago, it had been acting up.
"No, change of plans," I said coolly. "I'm going to find this... Nucleus. You can go back to Far Harbor, or stay here," I said and started in the direction the crazy preacher lady had headed in. He quickly caught my wrist in his hand.
"Have you lost your mind? You don't know what those lunatics are capable of," he said, absolutely exasperated. I yanked my arm from under his fingers.
"Would you stop grabbing me? I'm not some rag-doll you can push and pull when you're feeling pissy," I snarled, rubbing my wrist with my other hand. "Besides, why do you care if I join a cult and get so irradiated my nose falls off?" I said, quirking a brow and giving my head a nod. "A couple of hours ago you were eager enough to get rid of me," I added and started off down a slightly bushy path. He stood, rooted in place, trying to call my bluff. But you can't outfox a Fox. I just kept walking, until I was completely surrounded by thick, scraggly underbrush. Once he was out of eyesight, I looked at my Pip-Boy again and placed a marker on where we were, so if I did get lost, I could at least find that spot again. The worst case scenario was I ended up lost, came back to that spot and found Acadia on my own. I somehow managed to survive most of my life without Danse's scrutiny, I would be just fine.
Danse came up behind me and I silently pretended I hadn't noticed. "You don't even have enough ammunition to make it back to the Harbor alive," he said, quietly, emotionless, stating a fact. I glanced at him and tapped the side of my gun.
"I'll make do," I said simply. He stepped around in front of me. I looked up at him, his immense shadow blotting out whatever light had filtered down through the trees and mist.
"I have a job to do," he said slowly, "And I intend to finish it," he said, firmly, convicted. I backed up and glared at him.
"Don't you d-" he reached forward to snatch me up. But I was so accustomed to being manhandled by him, I darted to the side. I could tell he didn't like being out-maneuvered. Maybe he had been absent from my life so long, he had forgotten that we once equal on the battlefield. I was just as much a soldier as he was. He'd spent far too much time around civilians. "I am a grown woman - in fact two-hundred years more grown than you," I said sternly, "I will go where I please." At this point, instead of leaving our original plan because I wanted to piss him off - I wanted to leave, out of pure stubbornness. He seem to accept my challenge and slid his rifle to his back. I cocked my head and shifted backwards, slowly.
"I'm not going to chase you all over this Island," he said simply, "If you think you can survive on your own out here, you are more than welcome to," he said with an empty expression. I smiled, victorious and looked back down at my Pip-boy. It was only a clever ruse, however. He lunged forward and grabbed my wrist in his hand. But before he could pull it behind my back, I used the bulk of the knuckles on my free hand to firmly strike the top of his hand, where it was most sensitive. He recoiled out of instinct, bringing his hand to his side and shaking it. My father had taught me that maneuver when I was only ten. He would have been proud.
He swiped forward again, barely grabbing the collar of my coat, as I turned to run. He yanked me back, both his arms coming to wrap me around the shoulders. I aimed my boot and with every ounce of strength I could muster, I slammed the heel of my foot into his toes. He let go of me, nearly shoving me into a tree. I dodged it, stumbling for footing. My hands tried to grapple with a hanging tree limb, but it broke under my weight. I tumbled down, hard. My shoulder hit exposed rock, wind purged from my chest. I hissed in pain and quickly rolled to my back, cupping my shoulder.
Danse seized his opportunity and grabbed my ankle. He pulled my towards him, foliage skittering underneath my body. I could see the sky overhead, peering out from under wheeling swaths of fog. It was almost beautiful underneath the noxious glow of greens and yellows.
In the distance I could hear the churn of a vertibird, somewhere in the Commonwealth.
I remembered my first time in one.
A stray rock had embedded itself in the small of my back.
I could feel the hot pain of split skin.
I could taste blood in my mouth.
I must have bitten my lip on my way down.
As I took all these things in, in that split second, I hadn't heard the distant rumbling of a creature lurking in a deep pocket of fog.
He yanked me towards him with ease. He leaned over, with frightening agility and pressed his hand over my mouth. His face was inches from mine. My heart thudded away, like a war drum. My panicked eyes gazed into his and found the same stillness they always contained. I envied him that much. I wish I could be void of fear, pain, love. But deep in those endless pools of rust, I could see, ever so slightly, like tendrils of smoke, something more. Something I was familiar with, but couldn't quite place.
Though all these things had registered in my head, his eyes, the way he smelled like earth and gun oil, the unmistakable heat the I felt from his touch, it was in less than a moment. He pulled me to my feet, grabbed the lapels of my coat and shoved me into a tree, blocking my only route with his body. I realized I was going to Acadia, whether I wanted to or not. As I stood there, my mind reeling over all the different possibilities, suddenly everything blackened and began to capsize.
"I need to go," I squeaked shakily. I had started to tremble lightly.
"You are not going anywhere but where I tell you to," he breathed. All those memories, locked away tightly where they needed to be, seemed to explode into a shifting, rapid funnel cloud. I shook my head rapidly.
"No, I-I need to not- be here," I said, fighting back the hot tears building in the corners of my eyes. My stomach was rising, crashing, as if I might vomit. I could feel the sticky, hot sweat building at the nape of my neck. Instinctively, like a caged animal, I began to panic. I pushed at him, with both my hands, as feeble as they seemed against his colossal frame. With every passing moment that I stood there, pinned between he and my freedom, I became more and more terrified. I was slowly unwinding, slipping down into that same black and eternal abyss I had endured at the Listening Post when he had left me. Like when I watched those men take Shaun away from me and there was nothing I could do. I became more violent, using all the last bits of strength I could find to push past him. I could feel a wall of adrenaline approaching. Like a tidal wave.
"Stop, stop," he whispered, gently grabbing my shoulders. But I had already began my descent into madness. I managed to get past his left arm, pushing with all my might. It felt like I was trying to shatter a steel girder. He grabbed me around the waist and pushed me back into my cage. This only made my attempts more fervent. My panic more and more intense. "Fox, stop moving," he hissed. Finally, unable to quell me, he took the back of my head in his hand and roughly brought my lips to his. I paused, unable to process what was happening. It was as if the funnel cloud had broke and had been sucked into a black hole. There was a placid, plane of silence. He broke away, staring down at me. He reached down, lacing his hands between the buttons of my jacket, over the thrum of my heart. "I need you to be quiet," he whispered, pushing his hand against that spot, as if he were willing it to stop. I struggled to take a breath and nodded weakly.
It was only after he had managed to calm me, that I noticed the lumbering beast less than ten feet from where we stood, It hadn't noticed us, we were tucked away under trees and brush. I whimpered, my eyes widening at the beast. It look like a large insect. Larger than a deathclaw. But upon further studying, it was more aquatic in nature, like a large shrimp hybrid. Each footfall it took, rumbled the ground beneath our feet. It paused and lowered its head, peering through the treeline with beady red eyes. As it moved on, it revealed two other beasts. I tried to move away, but Danse shook his head softly, keeping me there, rooted to the spot. I shifted under his gaze, which was locked onto me. A small twig, snapped under my heel.
The beast closest to the treeline whipped around, it's bright crimson eyes focusing on us like a laser. Danse pushed me behind him and shoved the shotgun into my hands. "Run," he shouted, slinging the laser rifle back to his hands. He shot a few rounds at the creatures, before quickly following me.
I could barely breathe, as I sprinted through the forest. Branches reached towards me, like bony outstretched fingers. I could feel their grasp on my face, scratching with every stride. I could hear my heartbeat, steady and thundering, like a freight train. I tried to jump over a log, but the toe of my boot skidded over it just right and I was flung forward and down a hill. I rolled down, head first, my gun ripped from my grasp. I shrieked as my wrist snapped under the weight of my own body. As I hit the foot of the hill, I laid still for a moment, before struggling to my knees. I felt a hand on the bulk of my coat, lifting me up. Danse brought me to my feet and pushed me forward.
He must have seen the cave before I did. Now, trusting random caves in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, is never a good idea. But really, we didn't have much of a choice. He grabbed my arm and wheeled me around, shoving me inside and following quickly. He slid in and pressed his back against the far wall. He pinned me there with an outstretched arm. Both of us panted in that inky dark, listening, waiting, for the approach of the behemoths. As seconds turned into minutes, Danse decided we were safe enough. He dropped his arm, leaned forward and took a deep breath. I sat there, still trying to tame my breathing, cradling my wrist. I didn't want to look at it. I could feel the coils of pain with every slight movement.
"Let me have a look," Danse said quietly, taking my broken hand in both of his. He turned it gently between his fingers and I whimpered. I had lost my pack, I had no way to fix it. He slid out of his coat and grabbed the bottom hem of his shirt and split it. He then ripped it all the way around, until he produced a long strip of fabric. He began to wrap my wrist. I groaned loudly, gnashing my teeth together. By the time he had finished, my head was pounding like a hammer against hot steel. I sank to the floor of the cave and sighed heavily. "We're going to have to wait until daylight to move on," he said, unhappily. I felt a pang of guilt, but said nothing. He slipped a hand inside of his coat and produced a stimpack. It was diluted, so it wouldn't fix everything. He handed it to me and I eagerly accepted it. I sighed, relieved and jabbed it into the soft flesh of my upper arm.
He slipped back into his jacket and zipped it up. Then took a seat beside me. He let his head thud against the rock behind us. I didn't even know what to think, let alone say to him. So I just sat there in silence. I closed my eyes, listening as the fog outside our cave came to life. As the sun fell, every manner of creature ventured out into the forest. The distant belt of thunder rolled through the increasingly dark night air. As my eyes adjusted, I could see the makings of a small camp around us. A sleeping bag, an old, crumbling fire pit. There was a footlocker, opened and filled with cobwebs. Along the entrance wall was a table, a chair, the remnants of a cooking stove.
Finally, Danse broke the silence between us. "I never meant to hurt you," he said, quietly, calmly. My eyes flickered open, sticky with sweat.
"Funny," I whispered, "That seems to be the only thing you're good at," I sighed, rubbing my sore and battered ribs with my one good hand. He didn't reply, just soaked in my words. I turned my head towards him, catching the glint of his eyes in the dark. "I don't understand. I tried to," I said hoarsely, "I really did." My words, though honest, felt sour in my mouth.
"Fox," he said, his voice sounded tired, annoyed. I closed my eyes again and frowned. Neither of us spoke again for a moment, we just listened. To our own ragged breaths, to the creatures just outside, the building electricity of the looming thunderstorm. "You understand, you just don't want to accept that something is beyond your control," he breathed. I could feel his eyes on me.
"That is unfair," I replied, a snarl in the bottom of my throat. He sighed a heavy, tired sigh.
"I'm tired of having the same conversations. Nothing I tell you is ever good enough. Why can't you just let it go?" he shifted beside me, getting more comfortable. I am sure he wanted to get as far away from me as he possibly could at that moment.
I flashed him a crazed glare. "Let it go?" I rasped, "As if I didn't just spend the last half of a goddamn year letting go," I said, using my fingers to make air quotations. "I didn't come for you. I didn't look for you," I snarled at him, my words venomous. "Now, because I have you in front of me, I'm not allowed to question your actions? Are you not to be held accountable for the shitty things you do?" I added, kicking a rock with the toe of my boot. "To do something like you did and leave a fucking letter. You are a coward, Danse." The words hurt. I knew they hurt. I was glad they hurt. I looked for more hurtful words.
"You hide behind all this anger and resentment because you are afraid." I was searching for just the right spot to sink my knife. "You are afraid to let anyone close. They might actually find out the version you present to the world is nothing but smoke and mirrors," I said heatedly, my words falling out like hot ammunition, "Inside is nothing. You are just an empty fucking shell with a bunch of goddamn memories that aren't even yours." I had never said anything so wrong, so painful, twisted and hateful in my life. "You aren't even a person. You are just a cheap imitation ." The final twist of the knife.
Now I could see why I drank the night before. If I had been alone with him, all of this would have been said. I'd thought about it for so long, so feverishly, it was inevitable. He needed to feel as much pain as I did. And it felt fucking good.
There was a split second of hate filled silence.
"You mean, like your dead husband?" he breathed. He came armed as well. That cut hurt. Cleaved right where he wanted it to be. Well, he had learned from the master. "Isn't that what this is all about? Because I wont replace a corpse?"
I punched him with my good hand. I could feel the cut of one of his teeth along my knuckle. He didn't react, just silently breathed there in the darkness, apathetic and triumphant. It made me even angrier. He spit out a mouthful of blood and wiped the sleeve of his jacket over his mouth.
Now I wanted nothing more than to get as far away from him as possible. I stood up and approached the mouth of the cave. I leaned against the cold, hard interior wall, trying to organize my thoughts, trying to ignore the truth behind the words he had said. The truth always hurt most of all. I heard him stand up behind me.
"What's wrong? Are you the only person allowed to browbeat people into doing what you want?" he said, his voice was disgustingly smug. I hadn't heard him talk like that before. I guess time outside of the Brotherhood had taken its toll on him. "You are so caught up in getting your own way, fulfilling your own selfish needs, you leave people in your wake like they're nothing more than used up trash." It was apparent to me, that he enjoyed hurting me as much as I did him. Perhaps he fully intended to hammer that last wedge between us. "The Minutemen, the Brotherhood, your own son."
I turned on my heel and cocked back to punch him again. I could feel the anger pulsing through me, heady and pungent. He deflected my hit and grasped my wrist in his hand. He tightened his fingers, eliciting a small, pained gasp. "You don't love people anymore. You can't. You just use them up, to ease your pain," his words tippled like acid into the air between us. It was hushed and tepid, like a sacred prayer. "I wont wait around for you to do the same to me," he said hotly.
"That's not true," I said, emotion bubbling just under the surface of my shaking voice.
"It's not?" he challenged, wrenching me closer, so we were mere inches apart, "Tell me what happened the night I left the Listening Post." I turned away, anger running down my reddening cheeks, fervid and aching, like strands of lightening. "Tell me," he insisted, his grip on my wrist increasingly tighter. I just looked at him, underneath ashamed, tired eyelids.
"I thought you left for good," I whispered.
"Bullshit," he rasped. The word sounded foreign coming from him. He didn't use words like that.
"You made a choice to say those things to me. You told me you couldn't love me," I said trying to rip my hand away, he just squeezed it more tightly. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I am dead inside," I said, struggling against him, my voice was hushed and resentful. "Not because I was sealed up in that fucking vault like a science experiment , or because everything I loved was ripped away from me," I could feel that tight wire, tethering us to one another, snapping, strand by strand, "If I can't love anything anymore, it's because of you," I said accusingly, the words felt truer than anything I had ever said out loud. "You took away all that pain, all that anger and hate and weakness," I sounded deranged. "You made me feel whole again and when you left, you took all of that away from me," I finally ripped my hand away from him . "If I am dead inside, it's because you fired the final shot," I said, shoving him. He grabbed both of my hips and pushed me into the wall of the cave.
(M)
Searing, cruel, wanton with greed, his mouth found mine in that darkness. I tried to shoulder past him, but he just pinned my arms. I bit him as he found the soft ripple of my lips again. He moved to the side of my jaw, his mouth following the angle to the side of my neck. I let out a strangled gasp. He wasn't the same person, I had met over a year ago. The calm, collected and sure soldier leading the recon squad at the police station was gone. There was a new anger there and it scared me. I should have seen it, the way he had acted was not totally out of line with what I had come to know. But it was different. I tried to make sense of this change, my mind stumbling as his hands moved around me. I could feel him pin my wrists above my head with one hand, using the other to part the seams of my coat. His fingers, much more hungry than I could recall, clawed under the divot of my pants. I blinked in the darkness, dazed. The tips of his fingers found the esker between my legs and slipped down its length, frantic yet so decisive. My body shuddered at the first caress. He paused, retreating to the dip of my stomach, I groaned in protest.
"Don't stop," I rasped, my voice sounded guttural and eager. His eyes caught mine, his gaze was commanding. There behind those serene russet pools, I could see gluttony and vehemence. I shrank under his scrutiny. He was in charge, I could understand that much. His hand went to work again, sinuous with intent, up the length of my stomach. As he reached the edge of my bra, he dropped my wrists. He grasped the seams of my shirt and pulled. It split, straight down the middle. I could see the buttons dance in the hazy beam of moonlight, for just a moment, before disappearing into the darkness. I shivered as the cold night air kissed my skin. His mouth found my clavicle, dragging his teeth softly along the ridge until he reached the long, slight valley of my chest. He snaked a hand to my hip and held it there, pressing his thumb into the supple easement. The other hand looped around to slip my coat off. I swallowed a hard lump, silencing the moan building in my chest.
With a newfound trepidation, his hand slipped to the button of my frayed pants once more. His fingers lingered at the top, slightly dropping below to coax at me. My hips swayed against him, craving his touch. As his hand traced over the zenith once more, I cried into the torrid air building between us. It was his steely vengeance on me. For all that I had done to him. For all that pain that we so enjoyed to inflict on one another. I pushed towards him, my eyes fluttering open to discover his keen, merciless gaze. Though my eyes begged for absolution, I found none there.
His voice imploded the pregnant and heated stillness, "You can do better than that," he said, his rocky voice felt like a hot knife in my stomach. I pleaded.
"Please," I lamented. Though this brought me the pity I sought, it was accompanied by more sweltering hunger. He obliged my cries and dipped his fingers into the slope that awaited him, excitedly. My body shuddered into him, my hands clawing at the the arms of his jacket. My forehead rested on the dip of his shoulder as I contained a wave of moans. But it wasn't enough for the fulfillment I truly sought. As my hands shakily found their way to the button of his pants, he quickly pinned them to my sides. I lulled the ache in the pit of me with a gentle cadence of carnal pleas. His mouth met mine again, seeking me out and drawing me in. I replied with recompense. He paused, his mouth against the side of my own.
"Tell me what you want," he breathed, the taste of him still lingering on my tongue.
"You," I managed to whisper. He was not convinced. As his grip on my hands tightened I quickly pushed at him, eager, impatient. "I want to feel you," I breathed quickly, hoping to appeal to him. Still unmoved by my words, he went back to tracing the line of my jaw with soft but ravenous kisses. I growled under my breath, ardent and agitated, "Please," I rasped, "I want you. I want all of you," I mewled, growing hopeless. I could feel the ghost a smile on his mouth, as he traced my skin. He let go of my hands and I frantically slid them to the button of his pants. I popped it open quickly and navigated my way to my reward. As I worked the length of him, I could hear the thick and full groan of victory in my ear. A small tremor down the center of his spine, answered my movements. But it was short lived. He found my hands again and pulled them to my sides. I looked at him, a look of torment glistening in my eyes.
Before I could plead my case once more, he shoved me roughly to the table beside us. He eased me onto it and went about the duty of undoing my old, frayed pants. As if he had done it a hundred times, he pulled them to the edges of my combat boots. My hands knitted around the back of his neck as he closed the gap between the two of us. But my impatience was met with the soft touch of his fingers, rhythmic and sure, tracing the easement at the center of me. I moaned, loudly and he quickly silenced my cries with his hungry kiss. I did my best to quell the sounds escaping me. Slowly he stopped his work, until each caress was light enough, it was nothing more than a specter of what he had done before. I tried to resume, but he quickly pulled me down and spun me around. He cleared the surface with one sweep of his arm, and pushed me forward. I could feel the weight of his hand, as he pressed it into the center of my back. My body shivered under his touch. My fingers found the edge of the old table and gripped it tightly. I could hear the distant roll of thunder once more, my eyes frantically searching the darkness before me. He pushed his leg between mine and used his boot to kick apart both my feet. I could hear the soft rustle of movement from behind me.
Suddenly, his mouth was just above my ear. I could hear the ragged breaths from his chest, as his hand guided its way to me. All at once, he pushed himself into me. I gasped, holding in the cries I so desperately wanted to give him. He responded with a gruff groan of alleviation. But he paused, pressing his fingers tightly into my skin. "I want to hear you," he said, his voice seething with punishment. That voice of his, normally so dusky, was alight with heat and yearning - it filled me with determination.
This time, as he withdrew, his hand found its way to my hip and gripped it tightly. His other hand, tangled itself into a knot in tresses of my brown locks. He pulled me back by my hair, pinned me at the hip and pushed into me once more, completely and severely. I stammered out a cry, my voice a shaky note of gratitude. "That's it," he lulled through the chords of a deep groan, bringing me back enough to nuzzle the side of my neck. Each stroke he offered me, I met with excited notes of pleasure. I could feel the thud if his heartbeat, raw and reassuring.
As I slid into the cusp, I could still taste him on my lips. I was acutely aware of every touch he left, each little brush of his fingers, the nick of his teeth against my skin, the heat slowly burgeoning between us. As my cries became more frantic, less contained, he reached forward and braced both of his hands beside mine, flat on the table. I could feel the soft wisps of his breath along the nape of my neck. Each note of his voice pushed me closer to the abyss. I breathed his name, soft and supple at first, just wanting to hear it. My soft little words, like a communion, quickened his resolve, multiplied his hungry movements, until each time I chanted his name, it was more strained and blurred. Finally, like letting go of a cliff-side, I fell into that swirling eddy of gratification with him. My body shuddered underneath him, my fingers clawing at the table, as if I didn't hold on, I would surely plummet. His hands found mine and knitted into them, finding the edge of that divine chasm in unison.
Something in the fog close to us, serenaded the night. I could hear the soft flutter of what sounded like wings. The cave seemed darker than before. I could feel the aching tips of my fingers, intertwined with his. The feeling of his chest rising and falling against my beck felt so undeniably innate. As if it filled every schism within me and made me whole once more. I didn't want to move. Because I knew it would not last, I tried to soak up every last detail. The sound his his rasping breath, the feeling of his hands, calloused, capable. The cadence of his heart, so strong and steady. The feeling of his mouth on the slope of my jaw as he placed a soft kiss on my clammy skin.
All too soon, he moved away from me. I stood there, shivering. I finally uncurled my fingers and slowly straightened my back. I pulled the tops of my pants up and closed the button. My eyes followed the hazy outline of his figure as he silently navigated the darkness. I don't think either of us knew what to say. It felt like words could never be enough.
(-M)
"You should probably get some sleep," he said softly, his eyes watching the trees with careful precision. I ignored the urge to apologize for everything I had said. Instead, I pulled the sleeping bag from the ground and gave it a good shake. I drug it to the back of the cave and laid down on it. I rolled my coat up into a make-shift pillow and slipped it under my head.
I closed my sore and swollen eyes, all to eagerly. As I drifted to sleep, I could hear the sound of Danse cleaning his laser rifle. His own sort of therapy I suppose. Slumber graced me within mere moments.