"Squire Madelyn Dangerfield, reporting for duty!" Nate almost flinched at the voice that assaulted his left ear. Between the vertibird and the gate leaving the compound he'd almost forgotten he was supposed to take on a squire. That was probably because he assumed she would have been closer to the landing pad, and when she wasn't there he'd hoped –secretly– to make his escape. Upon looking down at the miniature Brotherhood soldier saluting him with more vigor than he'd seen in even Elder Maxson, he realized just how much he was going to hate his ranking.
Summoning all of the positive emotions in his body, Nate grinned and saluted the squire back. "At ease, soldier," he laughed. The girl relaxed some, but maintained better posture than he had. "So, how does this work, no one has informed me."
Squire Dangerfield didn't miss a beat, "I am to accompany you as your personal squire, cleaning your armor and reloading your weapons as well as completing other tasks you wish. When you feel I am ready I will also assist you in a fight," she seemed to have added that last part hopefully. Nate wondered if she'd ever carried a weapon. As she spoke she sounded older than he originally thought.
"What is your age?"
"Fifteen, sir–I mean Sentinel." She balled her hands into fists when she made the mistake. Nate looked closely at her. She was short, very short, and with the squire's uniform on she looked no older than twelve.
"How long will you be my squire?"
"Until my training is complete. I have squired for a short time under knights in the past, those only lasting for one mission. Elder Maxson felt that I was ready, despite my age, for a full-time mentor. I could not withhold my excitement when I learned it would be you, Sentinel." She smiled up at Nate with the most genuine grin. Nate couldn't help but actually smile back at her. He could understand the feelings she had, and suddenly he felt bad for trying to skip out on her.
"When will your training be complete?" he asked, he had no intent on doing Brotherhood missions any time soon, so he needed to know how long he was going to tote her around.
"Until you or Elder Maxson feel I am ready to become an Initiate." A fifteen year old becoming an Initiate? He couldn't see that happening and suddenly he feared he would have this girl far longer than just a couple months.
"Okay then, we best get started," he said, turning so that she couldn't see his smile fade into a headache-induced grimace. Nate headed off toward the meeting place that he and Hancock had decided on.
It was an abandoned building with a caved-in roof and a bared door. Millions of them riddled the Commonwealth. But this one was special. There was no way Hancock could have known when he pointed it out saying he would be there when Nate was ready to head out. Two hundred years and a nuclear facial had turned the brick dull and shattered the windows. The black and white checkered tiles on the floor were shattered and almost all missing exposing the ugly concrete underneath. The wallpaper had long since been destroyed, but some of the wood had made it. There was more rubble than anything else, but Nate could picture the old restaurant as if he had been there yesterday, before the war, before the bombs, before time had ruined it.
The front door had been bared so no one could get the jump on Hancock while he was sleeping. It was more so for Nate's sanity than Hancock's paranoia, Lord knows that ghoul never freaked out about anything, real or hallucination. Nate wished he would lay off the drugs, but Hancock wouldn't be Hancock if he were sober.
"What're we doing here, Sentinel?" Squire Dangerfield asked. To be perfectly honest, he'd forgotten she was following him. Her steps were silent and despite the massive rucksack on her back she managed to keep up with him better than Hancock did most of the time.
"We have to meet a friend of mine," he answered and rounded the building. With the windows shattered he was able to look inside. The booths' leather was horrible, and the tabletops were scattered and broken leaving behind the bolted down stands that had rusted to the point that a single touch would turn it to dust. The bar on the far side of the room had been looted and shot at. Stools were missing and thrown around. Even with all of that, Nate saw it just as it had been. When he stepped through a back door using a key they'd found he walked right into the memory.
The bright sun burnt Nate's eyes as it glared through the glass windows. He'd had to park behind the building because he was late –as usual– and the street had long since filled up. Nora was sitting at the bar in a sparkling red dress that caught the light in an almost sinful way.
She sat with her back to him, her long hair curled and pinned up so that it didn't touch her shoulders. He loved all the hair she had, golden and soft like silk strands between your fingertips when she let you touch it. He didn't have to see her face now to imagine it. She was the definition of beauty with her hazel-green eyes accented with black lines making them stand out against her rosy skin. Her small nose had a pretty curve in the bridge making a gentle point above her uneven lips. It had a cute upper lip that was half the size of the bottom lip, but it looked so right on her. Her small ears were always hidden away in her hair, but always adorned with her birthstone studded earrings.
Tears touched his eyes as he stepped up to her, "Nora…"
She turned around setting down her NukaCola Cherry and smiling at him, "I've been waiting here for half an hour, Nate."
"I'm only fifteen minutes late," he objected, his smile growing as he looked at her smirk.
"Well, if I'm fifteen minutes early to everything and you're fifteen minutes late, then we should always been on time when we're together, shouldn't we?" She always knew just what to say to him. He loved her with every fiber of his being, and it must have distorted his features because her smile faded into concern. "What's wrong, Nate?"
"Nothing," he said and slowly lowered himself onto his left knee and reached into his pocket. "Not if you say yes, I mean," he added, opening the small black box. He'll never forget the look on her face.
"Ah, there he is, the Savior of the Commonwe– oh." Hancock's arms dropped from the raised position they'd been in to show mock praise. His black eyes were locked on the miniature Brotherhood soldier at Nate's side.
"Sentinel!" Squire Dangerfield shouted, suddenly holding a switchblade she had pulled from one of her many pockets. Hancock responded with grabbing his sawed-off double barrel shotgun and lifting it to point lazily at the girl's head. Nate rubbed his forehead. Of course this would be the reaction.
"Put that away, Hancock, what is she going to do? Poke you to death?" Nate growled at the ghoul who smirked, tucking the shotgun back into his belt. Then he turned on the girl. "Squire Dangerfield!" he put all of his disapproval into his voice which drew her eye.
"But, Sentinel–" she started, her eyes returning to Hancock.
"Look at me," he squared himself on her, stepping between her and the ghoul. She looked up at him and her arm started to shake slightly. "Did I order you to draw your weapon?"
"No, Sentinel." Her grey eyes were locked on his, filled with something that he hadn't seen before. She wasn't afraid that he was going to hurt her, she wasn't even afraid because he was yelling at her. She was afraid of his disappointment.
"Then why is it pointed at my stomach?" Her eyes flicked to her own hand. She seemed surprised to see it was shaking. Then her cheeks brightened with a flush of red.
"I–I apologize, Sentinel," she said, using both hands to close the knife and tuck it away. Her eyes were downcast, stuck staring at a particularly uninteresting piece of tile on the ground some feet away.
"Damn, Nate, never seen you break out your dad face." Hancock's arm draped Nate's shoulders as he came up to his side. Nate was taller than him, which made the pose awkward to start with, but Nate's shoulders were also quite wide, so Hancock's thin arm barely passed his neck. Giving the ghoul a raised look, Nate slowly leaned out of the embrace, feeling a light heat in his stomach that he didn't want to experience with the squire here.
"This is Squire Madelyn Dangerfield, she's been assigned to me until–" he had to stop talking because of the ghoul's laugh, which ripped out of his weathered lips like a force of nature.
"Dangerfield!?" Hancock bent at the waist to lower himself to the short Brotherhood Squire.
"Yes… sir," she said through gritted teeth. Her eyes met Hancock's but her head remained down turned giving her a heavy glare.
"That's enough, Hancock," Nate said, putting his hand firmly on the smaller man's shoulder.
"Ah, don't be like that, Natie," Hancock smirked straightening up. Nate dropped his hand and looked at the squire who pointed a finger at the ghoul.
"Don't address the Sentinel like that, abomination! He's earned his rank and should be respected as such!" Squire Dangerfield scolded, her foot punctuating her exclamations.
Nate was about to speak again but Hancock tilted his head, the tricorner hat on his head emphasizing the movement. "You call him 'Sentinel,' the Railroad calls him 'Murderer,' the Minutemen call him 'General,' the Institute calls him 'Betrayer,' and I call him Natie. Now, tell me, Mad Maddy, who is wrong? Who is right?"
She stared at him, glaring with her jaw tight. It wasn't exactly obvious to Nate that some of what he'd said caught her off guard, but he saw the slight change in her brow. She was better at hiding her feelings from other people, so what about him made her lose her power? "The Railroad is wrong, he is not a murderer, he is a savior, and the Institute is wrong, he betrayed no one, they were threatening the Commonwealth and had to be destroyed."
Hancock snorted. "Everything you say has been preached at you like religion. You know nothing of the world." He looked back at Nate who gave him a frown. "How long do we have the runt?"
"Until she's ready to be an Initiate."
"Well, best get used to seeing my ugly mug then, kid, because this is going to take a while." Nate didn't know what to say, so he turned away from Hancock and rested his hand on Squire Dangerfield's shoulder to guide her out of the building.