Chapter Five: The Realizations

MacCready was toured around the settlement, seemingly in a daze. The look of wonder and disbelief stirring up anew every time he caught a glimpse of Malcolm, now in his full official Minutemen General uniform.

The settlers all had nothing but the highest praises and welcomes to say to Malcolm as he walked past, and he introduced MacCready to quite a few settlers and a handful of the Minutemen.

It all went by in a sort of confusing blur for MacCready though, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that his traveling partner for the last two days had been the General of the Minutemen.

When he was sat down around a cooking fire, he finally found his voice again, "Boss." He practically sobbed, "It meant so much, all you did, before. I got the feeling you genuinely care about what happens to me… but your help…"

Tears began to flow from MacCready's eyes and he hastily wiped them away, "Knowing now just how much you already have to deal with, the world's weight on your shoulders...and you were still willing to lend me a shoulder to lean on."

MacCready choked on a sob, but then continued, "What— what in the world did you even see in me that made me worth your time?"

Malcolm put a reassuring arm around MacCready's shoulders, "Somebody who I wanted to help; thought you at least needed a good reason to get out of Goodneighbor and away from those Gunners, figured I'd start with that and figure it out from there."

MacCready leaned against Malcolm, softly he said, "I… want you to know, I would die for you. If it came down to it… and I know without even asking that you'd do the same."

"Let's hope it never comes to that."

"Yeah." MacCready sighed, "I— cards on the table Mal…" he moved so he was sitting across from Malcolm, "I… I am really terrible at this, but… I feel very strongly about you… being with you has made me realize; I never want to be alone again."

MacCready blushed a crimson red upon finishing the statement, and ducked his head. He seemed to be bracing himself for disappointment or rejection.

Malcolm blinked rapidly, "Are… you saying, what I think you're saying? You feel that strongly about me?"

MacCready all but whined, "Yes, please don't hate me."

Malcolm shifted so he knelt in front of the sitting MacCready, "Cards on the table; Even though I've only known you for two days, I've seen into your character and learned a lot about you. I, in whatever capacity you'll have me, would love to become a part of your life."

MacCready leapt into Malcolm's arms, "I keep saying this, but… how are you even real?"

Malcolm enveloped MacCready in his arms, "Everyone in the Commonwealth has lost something, I was frozen and lost my whole world in what felt like an instant. I think I've spent every moment since then fighting to help as many good people as possible to hold on to whatever they have."

"I… it's almost like you were thawed out, just for me." MacCready marveled, "Here I am, just taking and taking… how could I ever deserve you?"

Malcolm hugged MacCready tighter, "By reminding me that I need to take care of myself sometimes, even as you help me help others…" Malcolm pulled away and looked MacCready in the eyes, "By being by my side, and trusting I'll be by yours in return."

"Yes." MacCready exhaled, near breathlessly, "I'll be by your side, until the day I die."

Malcolm smiled, "Well then, Robert Joseph MacCready. Will you marry me?"

MacCready pulled Malcolm into a passionate kiss, whispering "Yes, yes, a million times yes." During his various exhales, "I love you."

Malcolm showed MacCready his home and introduced him to Cogsworth and Dogmeat.

MacCready seemed suitably impressed, "You have a Mr. Handy as a butler, you never run out of surprises do you?"

Malcolm shrugged, "Just being myself has seemingly become quite the oddity, according to Nick Valentine anyway, he said it was my; 'help thy fellow man' pre-war values, when I rescued him from Skinny Malone."

MacCready hummed in thought, "Isn't Nick Valentine that detective that lives in Diamond City?"

"The very same, I'm going to go on my rounds of the settlements in three days. I'm planning to swing by his office afterwards, to see if he has any cases he needs backup on."

MacCready blinked at him, "Playing detective in your free time, huh? Anywhere else you help out when you're not the General of the Minutemen?"

"Well, when you were in Goodneighbor, you might've heard tell about a certain strange man going around fighting crime as the Silver Shroud?"

MacCready gaped at him, "Of course that was you! Do… you still have the costume with you?"

Malcolm fished the lovingly folded costume out of its dedicated pouch of his satchel. "Behold, the Silver Shroud!"

"You are such a nerd."

"Yeah, but I'm your nerd." Malcolm said with a beaming grin, causing MacCready to blush. "Kent Connolly over in the Memory Den in Goodneighbor broadcasts the old radio serials, he gave me the idea to find the costume over at Hubris Comics."

MacCready took the costume up into his arms, "Did it come lined with ballistic weave… or, no that was you that did that, wasn't it?"

"Guilty as charged."

"You're a massive dork, and I love that about you. Did you even do the Silver Shroud voice?"

"Halt, evil doers!" Malcolm said, striking a dramatic pose, "Death has come for you, and I am its Shroud!"

"You sound exactly like the old radio broadcasts, wow. That's uncanny."

"Well being the General 24/7 would be absolutely exhausting. I already have to dress like a drifter in order to travel incognito."

"The price of fame, huh?"

"I suppose so…didn't really think I'd ever have to travel as someone other than myself..."

There was a pregnant pause, and Malcolm sighed deeply, "I've...got to go check on something, shouldn't be too long I promise."

"By yourself?"

"Don't worry, I won't be leaving Sanctuary, not without you. Promise. Only going on a walk… to clear my head."

MacCready's stomach lurched, maybe Malcolm was having second thoughts about their earlier jump to commitment? They had only known each other two days after all, and Malcolm clearly could net himself anyone in the Commonwealth.

Certainly could do better than an ex-Gunner who'd done nothing but ask favors, and take from this generous, giving man.

However, Malcolm silenced these doubts with a parting kiss, "Don't hesitate to track me down if I'm needed, alright?"

"Okay, if you're sure. I love you."

"And I love you as well."

And MacCready watched Malcolm walk up a hill, and out of view.

Over the next half-hour the creeping doubts niggled away at his self-worth, even as Cogsworth went about cheerily chatting to himself about how nice it was that 'sir was adding to the household.'.

Cogsworth mused, "Courtship was a little quicker than I would have ever had guessed, given what the master was like before all this war business...and being cryogenically frozen all that time."

MacCready coughed to get Cogsworth's attention, "Uh, Cogsworth?"

"Yes sir?"

"What was Malcolm like...before the war?"

"Oh, sir was frightfully shy, basically the textbook definition of 'introverted'! Sure he had those comic book convention sorts to chat with, but I would term them as associates, rather than friends."

"Really?"

"You'd never know it now, what with how much he helps and talks to almost everyone these days, but yes, Mr. Germaine hardly spoke to anyone outside his family… and maybe the occasional chat with a coworker." Cogsworth made a considerate humming noise, "He knew practically none of his neighbors of Sanctuary Hills, other than exchanging pleasant hellos!"

"What did he do with his spare time?"

"Oh sir had so many creative hobbies! He sang most beautifully about the house, though never outside of it, as far as I know. Has a really keen musical ear, pitch perfect. Oh, and his wonderful sketches. Masterpieces, if you want my humble opinion."

"Sketches?"

The Mr. Handy unit whirred in excitement as he gathered up a box filled with yellowed crumbled-edged sheets of loose sketchbook paper.

"Rather worse for the wear, I'm afraid. 200 years will do that unfortunately, I did my best to maintain them for Mr. Germaine's sake. Come to think of it, I haven't told him that I still have these!"

"Can...can I see?"

"Well of course sir!"

The first drawing was of Malcolm's house as it had looked before the bombs dropped, all four sides depicted on the four respective corners.

The second drawing was of various different types of colorful flowers that MacCready had only ever seen on old crumbling pre-war billboards or ads. Never growing in the wild.

The third sketch was of a family, a mother and a father… Malcolm's mother and father, with a much younger Malcolm, seemingly doubled, front and center. Pinned to the drawing was the same image, but as a photograph.

MacCready pointed at the two children, "Uh. Am I seeing double?"

"No, sir had a twin brother, Machiavelli Germaine, though he preferred to be called Mack… they were very close, like two peas in the proverbial pod, he moved away to Bar Harbor about the same time sir moved to Sanctuary… I found it best not to speculate on his current wellbeing."

MacCready nodded, studying the photograph.

"He, was really good at this."

"Indeed, I hope to see Malcolm draw again in the future."

"I'll have to find him some good paper… and pencils too."

"I'm sure he would appreciate that greatly sir."

The fourth sketch was of a Mr. Handy unit that MacCready guessed from context was Cogsworth. The shading and colors indicated that he'd been a shiny chrome.

"Hey here's one of you!"

"Yes indeed, fresh off the 'ol assembly line. Chrome plated and polished to a pristine shine! Not a bad likeness at all, if I do say so myself."

There was some more flowers and a few cartoon looking doodles of animals alongside their more realistic counterparts. Every drawing told of a skill MacCready had to figure took years to master.

All told, there were only 15 pages in total.

Cogsworth sighed, "Those were all I found. But I'm sure sir had full sketchbooks somewhere… probably buried in the attic."

"The attic?"

"Yes, indeed. You see, sir had only just moved to Sanctuary Hills, about two months before the bombs." Cogsworth explained, "He never did get around to unpacking them I think, but alas, I cannot fit through the crawl space. The door is a rectangle, and I am of course rather spherical."

"I… where is the attic door? I could go look for them!"

"Oh marvelous idea," chirped Cogsworth happily, "right this way!"

There were 12 partially filled sketchbooks, which Cogsworth tutted at, "Sir always started on a new book before finishing his previous book. Bad habit of his I thought, but that leaves us with a lot of paper!"

There was also a box with three different art kits, with crayons colored pencils and cracked pastels. Cogsworth hummed, "I suppose it makes sense the pastels didn't fare the storage well. Not sir's preferred media anyhow, so no great blow there."

Kept in one smaller box were sketch pencils, and in another box, inking pens.

There was a knock on the door, MacCready leapt up, and turned to Cogsworth who had gone to open the door.

Preston Garvey stood at the doorframe, "Hey MacCready… what's all this stuff?"

MacCready grinned, "Your General is quite the artist, did you know?"

Preston whistled low, very impressed. "Not like this, I've seen him sketch maps and plans for walls and watchtowers before. Nothing like this!"

"This was all squirreled away in the attic, that was really more of a crawl space." MacCready, "Cogs and me hope this will be a pleasant surprise for Malcolm."

Preston nodded, "Speaking of the General, where is he?"

MacCready's stomach plummeted, "He said he wasn't leaving Sanctuary without me, he should still be around."

Cogsworth agreed, "Sir said he was going for a walk. He did inform Mr. MacCready that he shouldn't hesitate to; 'track him down' if we should need him before he returns."

Preston considered that for a second, "Cogsworth, could you whistle for Dogmeat?"

"Of course, Mr. Garvey."

Only a minute later Dogmeat was barking at the door, Preston offered up the General's coat for Dogmeat to smell, "Where'd he wander off to boy? Huh? Find the General!"

Dogmeat barked and quickly led them to an open vault door.

The vault was dreary, darkly lit by glowing monitors, and unpleasantly cold.

They passed past dark cryo-pods filled with frozen corpses. The only light was a eerie green from the terminals to the side of every dreary pod. Every screen next to every single pod read the same thing; 'Life Support Status: Failure'.

They all turned a corner and there was Malcolm, sat on the floor, across from the only open pod, with his arms around his knees. He had a haunted look on his face a distant, mile-long stare in his unfocused eyes.

Next to the only opened pod, the screen read; 'Life Support Status: Successfully Revived'.

Malcolm was murmuring, barely audible, "Why not any other one of them? Why me. Why only me? Why couldn't they all have made it?".

MacCready took the General's coat from Preston and slowly approached Malcolm and draped it over his shoulders.

Malcolm hummed in acknowledgment, "Thanks." He muttered in a much clearer but still subdued tone, as he tugged the coat on, "Haven't been back since I woke up here more than a month ago…"

Preston made a mournful noise, "General… I should have realized where you'd headed. I'm sorry sir, for intruding."

Malcolm shook his head, "It's fine actually," he tuned to face MacCready, "Makes it easier to remember I got to count my blessings when three of them are right here." He said, petting Dogmeat.

Both MacCready and Preston blushed a bit at that. Malcolm just laughed weakly as MacCready helped him up from the floor.

Malcolm cleared his throat, "Anyway, what did you guys need me for?"

Preston blinked, "It… it can wait General. If you need more time."

Malcolm chuckled ruefully, "What I need to do is help people. Helps keep my mind occupied."

Preston looked at Malcolm and then shot a concerned look to MacCready. "MacCready has something you ought to see first."

Malcolm raised an eyebrow, "Alright."