A little tooth-rotting fluff and reminiscing. Smut not included.


The lock box had sat, forgotten, at the back of her closet ever since she'd reclaimed her old home. She hardly ever slept there anymore, having built a new home at Red Rocket, but she'd been helping refortify some of the outer walls and wandered in looking for any loose screws. The first time she'd found the old box, still practically defrosting from her stay in the vault, she hadn't possessed the skill to jimmy the lock yet, and held little hope for finding the key after a literal nuclear apocalypse.

Looking at it now, though, it wouldn't be a challenge at all anymore. She pulled a bobby pin from her bun and slid it into the lock, twisting and wiggling until she heard it catch and swing open.

The smug smile from her small victory froze on her face as her eyes fell on white lace and she remembered immediately what it was she'd been keeping so safe. She ran trembling fingers over the neatly folded material, so soft she hardly touched it at all, fearing it might disintegrate to ash beneath her hands. Entire buildings had fallen to waste over the years, yet here was her wedding dress, crisp and cool as the day she'd locked it away.

River felt the familiar ache, memories pulling uncomfortably at the wound that had been slowly healing over. She pulled the dress carefully from the box, watched it unfold to its full length and it was a thousand times more beautiful than she'd remembered. Her hands were unzipping her clothes before she gave it a second thought, all thoughts of the wall and screws completely forgotten.

The material was soft and silky as she stepped into the dress, and pulling it over her skin was like an old, familiar embrace. She held her breath as she zipped the dress up, exhaling in relief when it slid perfectly into place. One baby and one apocalypse later, and I still got it.

River moved to the mirror at the back of her closet, just intact enough to give her a complete image. She took herself in with wide, round eyes, and her heart split open as she realized she'd never be as perfect as the first time she'd worn it. Her skin was scarred now, bronzed from the sun and weathered by the winds, the radiation. She released her hair from its bun and combed it out with her fingers until it fell around her shoulders. She tried once more to connect the woman she was looking at with the one she'd known before, a fruitless exercise she'd given up on months ago.

The dress was sleeveless and simple, the only two features she'd wanted when picking one out, hugging her slim curves in a lovely, elegant silhouette. Seeing herself in it brought back flashes of memories, waking up at five that morning to curl her hair, because she'd insisted she do it all herself, back when her hair was a luscious, inky black. Her make-up she'd practiced for weeks leading up to the big day, so many times it was a breeze to put on that morning. She remembered the momentous feeling of stepping out to walk down the aisle, the look on Nate's face when he'd seen her for the first time that day, and she'd never seen a man who looked so in love with a woman, could hardly believe she was the one at the end of that stare.

"Hey, River, you get lost in here?"

She turned to the doorway just as MacCready stepped into it, and he stopped short at the sight of her. The planks of wood he'd been carrying fell with a clatter to the ground, and the look of shock on his face might have made her laugh if she hadn't just reawakened ancient insecurities.

"River. . . ." He trailed off, but the way his eyes devoured every inch of her finished his thought.

"Just playing a little dress-up," she joked, reaching back to unzip herself. "Let me just change and we can get back to work."

"No," he blurted out, stepping closer. His Adam's apple moved as he swallowed, and the smile that followed was equal parts wonder and longing. "You look . . . incredible."

"Yeah?" She let the word hang there, realizing what she was wearing, what it symbolized for both of them, the kinds of memories it had brought up for her and was most likely doing for him as well. It was an area of conversation they managed to normally avoid, forced open between them like the pages of a book, and she fidgeted nervously under the warm edge of his gaze. "I just . . . had to try it on. I don't know why."

MacCready seemed to find the ability to move again, came closer until he was only a foot away, and she expected him to make a move but he stayed where he was. "It's a beautiful dress," he told her, his voice frayed at the edges.

"I can't really do it justice anymore," she sighed, glancing regretfully back at her reflection.

"River." The way he said it made her eyes widen in surprise, a plea, almost pained, and he took her hands in both of his, pressed them to his lips. "You are the most beautiful thing to ever touch this wasted world. If there's a heaven for me when I die, it's gonna be this moment, seeing you in that dress, over and over for the rest of eternity."

She sighed shakily, eyes burning with tears that threatened to brim over. "Damn, that was good."

He rolled his eyes, but couldn't help a smirk. "For once, I'm being completely serious."

"I know." The tears were hot as she caught them on the back of her hand.

MacCready wiped away the last few tears she hadn't gotten, held her face tenderly in his hands as if he might soothe the hurt away if he were only gentle enough. He searched her face for a long, quiet moment, and whatever he found there brought the faintest smile to his lips. "Was it big? Your wedding?"

River blinked, the question taking her off-guard. "I . . . not really. Pretty small affair. Nate's family was military, spread out all over, and I was an only child. We didn't want a lot of fuss, anyways, so it was small . . . nice." Her eyes wandered, unfocused, as she tried to reach back to memories she hadn't accessed since before she'd been frozen. "I never felt so beautiful before."

His hands ran softly down her bare arms, warmed her smooth skin as he chuckled. "I can only imagine," he rumbled appreciatively.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up . . . didn't want to remind you of . . . ." The silver-tongued general, known to an entire group of people as only Charmer, was for the first time ever at a loss for words. Everything that crossed her mind sounded dangerous, straying into unexplored territory, and there really wasn't a whole lot of that left between them anymore.

"It's okay," he reassured her evenly. "You have to hold onto those memories, even when it hurts. You and Shaun are all that's left of Nate. You gotta save all the pieces you can."

River had first been drawn to his arrogance, the bite of his humor, but she found the cadence of his voice here in the quiet privacy of her room, the look in his eyes as he stitched up all her wounds suited him remarkably. He'd been mourning longer than she had, knew his way around picking up the pieces. "I bet she looked amazing," she breathed.

MacCready leaned his forehead against hers, and she was relieved to see the smile remained on his face. "She did. She wasn't the dress-and-heels type. Most wasteland girls aren't, really, but she especially wasn't. Seeing her all dolled up, in that dress. . . . Leah and Charon spent weeks searching for a dress. God knows where they found it or how they got it tailored, but I'll never forget what she looked like in it."

"Lots of people?"

"Half the Capital Wasteland, but not much you can do about it when your adoptive mom is the wasteland messiah. Hell of a party, though. There's a place called Oasis, you have to see it someday. The plants still grow there somehow, trees and grass and flowers. It was raining that night. It made the grass shine all around her, like a painting."

River draped her arms around his shoulders, sighing when he drew her into the strong curl of his embrace. "That's a beautiful memory."

"It's why I hold onto it. Why you should hold onto yours. There's enough room for them and the ones we make together in that big, smart brain of yours." He simply held her for a long moment, stroked her back with an almost reverent touch.

He trailed his fingers up her bare back, warm like rays of sun over her skin. He cupped the back of her neck, angling her head so he could kiss her. She eased into his embrace, inhaled the scent that was so MacCready, cigarette smoke and leather and something wilder that she could never quite place, a wood fire or summer rain.

River ducked her head against his shoulder, let out a long, aching sigh. "Thank you."

This time when he smiled, there was that familiar edge to it that she loved. "What kind of man would I be not to offer a beautiful woman my shoulder to cry on?" His eyes softened in relief when she laughed, though his smirk stayed in place. "Besides, I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm, uh . . . pretty crazy about you." Emotions passed in rapid succession over his face, hesitation followed by determination followed by desire. "I'd do it all over again, if you want," he suggested too casually, eyes glancing her way to catch her reaction.

It took River a moment to realize what he was offering. She peered up at him with widened eyes, searching his face for uncertainty but finding none. "You're serious, aren't you?"

He jutted out his bottom lip, playing hurt. "Jeez, River, take it easy on the old ego."

"Now you're definitely joking."

MacCready watched the smile spread over her face, matched it with one of his own. "Just a thought," he said with a shrug. "Makes no difference to me. I know how much I love you even without the song and dance. But I'll swear myself to you in all the ways I can, if it makes you happy."

"RJ," she whispered, breathy with surprise. As far as she could recall, her life had unraveled only a year ago, ripped apart before her eyes, the pieces scattered across time. She could still remember pulling all-nighters prepping for the LSAT, her honeymoon in California, the nine months of cravings and nausea that had been her pregnancy with Shaun. Never along any of those lines had she ever imagined she would wind up here, without her son, her husband gone, gunning down mutants with her twenty-two-year-old lover. She'd been quite certain she would never marry again, but then she'd been quite certain she'd never love again either, and there was no mistaking the feelings she had for him as anything else. With the loss of nearly everything she'd ever known, it had been easy, almost natural to recognize the only thing that felt right, and that was RJ: his teasing, his kisses, the occasional battle-of-the-snarks that ended always in mind-shattering sex. He made her smile, made her laugh, made her come so hard it was almost a religious experience, and she'd realized a long time ago that she intended to spend the rest of her life with the sarcastic little shit.

"I'm not really asking, so don't worry about answering right now."

"Change your mind already?"

"No, you're thinking so hard it's giving me a headache."

They laughed together, in hushed whispers. He wound his fingers tenderly into the white silk of her hair, his eyes soft. "Just know I mean what I said. I can't tell you how good it would feel to call you my wife."

"Jesus." She shuddered against him, smiled shakily when his brows knitted together in concern. "Wasn't expecting that to turn me on so much."

"Oh." And then, with a grin, "Oh."

"Behave. I think Preston's probably out there wondering where I am with those screws."

"It's a screw-related activity." Hands drifted down her back, stopped to admire her hips. "I'm sure he'll understand."

"You can't sweet-talk a lawyer - ah! -" as he bit down on the curve of her shoulder, "- no matter how good that feels."

MacCready sighed heavily as he straightened. "All right, all right. You're the boss, even if I think you're missing out." He held his arms out as if to let his body speak for itself.

"I know I am, that's the worst part," she teased, spinning around with a laugh. "Now unzip me so we can get back to work, and I promise I'll make it up to you later."

His voice was closer than she expected it to be, his fingers trailing warm down her skin before he wound his arms around her. "Just this is enough. Just . . . us. Anything else is . . ."

"The cherry on top?" she finished for him.

A soft chuckle. He had no idea what she was talking about. But he loved her, and he had her back, and he would until the day he died. "Exactly."