A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.
Piper had been up for a couple of hours now, and even though it still wasn't even nine in the morning, she was utterly exhausted. She hadn't gotten that much sleep the previous night, and that was mostly to make sure that Baby was working properly, spitting out as many papers as it could. With any luck, Piper hoped to sell enough papers to pay rent for the next week.
She was sold out in an hour.
On one hand, she was ecstatic. After watching her circle of friends dry up because of starting the paper and having to deal with suspicious former friends and family who were afraid that she was going to air their dirty laundry, now the people of Diamond City were buying the paper like it was going to rot. She'd already exhausted the initial supply of papers, and there was a rickety noise in the background as Baby started cranking out more editions to keep up with the demand. The old Minuteman that had helped Nat while she was gone had volunteered his time to help keep the machine running. He was an old fellow, and admitted that he wasn't much for shooting, but he was a good mechanic. And Piper needed a good mechanic to keep Baby running.
The paper had been all about the explosive first day of negotiations. The fact that the Brotherhood of Steel was at least willing to consider allowing Ghoul emancipation and not a mass extermination. She wondered how the people of Diamond City were going to handle it. That bastard McDonough had done such a good job cultivating a racist hatred for Ghouls and paranoia against Synths that Piper was afraid that the city inhabitants would be terrified of the prospect.
But that was before she saw Hancock dancing in the town square for a couple of the kids that loved to run around the perimeter. It didn't hurt that Hancock was totally in favor of making an ass out of himself.
Oh I'm the type of Ghoul that likes to roam around
I'm never in one place, I roam from town to town!
And when I find myself falling for some girl
I hop right in that car and I drive right 'round the world!
'Cuz I'm a Wanderer, yeah I'm a wanderer
I roam around, around, around, around, around…
It might be his shitty singing that was winning people over, to be honest. If this Ghoul was unafraid of making an ass of himself in public, then maybe they weren't all about to go feral and bite peoples' necks off.
Piper heard a chuckling noise, and turned to see Blue standing next to her. They were out on the porch of Publick Occurrences, as Nat breathlessly exclaimed that the paper was out of stock and they were reprinting as fast as they could and apologies for any inconvenience.
"He's quite a character, isn't he?" Piper asked, as they watched Hancock acted like what Blue called a "may-pole" while the kids ran around him. Blue chuckled.
"Hancock might be high half the time he's awake, but he's got one of the biggest hearts in the Commonwealth. If he can get Elder Maxson to crack a little bit, then I think that the people won't have much of a problem dealing with Ghouls in general."
"That would free people from Goodneighbor to come back to Diamond City." Piper said. "Mayor McDonough did a great job wedging a divide between the two places."
Blue frowned.
"Fuck McDonough. We're building a future where men like him are erased."
That threw Piper for a loop, if only for the fact that Blue rarely if ever swore. But then she remembered how swiftly he'd gunned down Mayor McDonough, for the sheer offense of attempting to shoot her first. That didn't really strike Piper out of the ordinary; Piper was planning to hit McDonough first and Blue was just the faster shot. What had surprised her was the fact that Blue had emptied an entire clip out of his pipe pistol in blowing McDonough away. She wondered what would have happened if he'd drawn out that pistol that he kept strapped to his chest. It gleamed in the morning sun, and yet the sight of that .44 sent a shiver down her spine.
Blue looked over to the Mayor's office, and sighed.
"They're up and at them early." He said, gesturing to the Brotherhood delegates who were making their way up to the office. He glanced over at Piper, and smirked. "Shall we see what they decided?"
Piper felt a lump in her chest, and could only nod silently.
…
"We…considered your proposal." Elder Maxson said, to begin the conference.
"And?" Blue asked. Elder Maxson took a deep breath. Everyone in the room seemed to be waiting for his next words.
"We are willing to allow for a form of emancipation for Ghouls-"
Piper felt her heart leap.
"-provided they submit to medical testing to determine the level of radiation they have soaked. In order to determine their general health."
Hancock looked like he was about to speak, when Blue cut in.
"Who would be doing the testing?"
"The Brotherhood of Steel has ample doctors that could provide this service."
"That would create a perceived bias. That the Brotherhood is demanding testing of all Ghouls."
"Do you have a counter-proposal?"
"An independent party, perhaps. One that both the Minutemen and the Brotherhood can agree on."
"And is there such a medical expert?"
"Doctor Amari, based out of Goodneighbor."
"Preposterous. That could lead to bias or skewed testing."
"Doctor Amari has no allegiances to the Brotherhood, and has refused multiple attempts to join the Minutemen. She is steadfastly a doctor, and has no leanings either way."
"Can she be trusted?"
"I trust her with my life."
It was like watching that age-old sport that Piper had read about. What was it called? Tennis? There was a part of tennis called "volleying," where the two opponents hit the grenade back and forth between each other with rapid succession. And here in front of her and the rest of the room, Maxson and Blue were engaging in a furious volley. She'd better write this all down.
"If you trust her with your life, and she compiles the data, where should it be held?" Maxson asked.
"An independent location, where neither the Castle or the Prydwen can be accused of influencing or compiling records for malicious purposes." Blue replied.
"And where would that be?"
"Vault 81. Not only is that a control vault, it is also full of highly skilled doctors that have no interest in the political life of the Commonwealth. They're the perfect review board. The Overseer, Gwen McNamara, is a woman who I trust deeply and is committedly apolitical."
"So Doctor Amari and a Brotherhood doctor would compile the tests, and then the data would be sent to this Vault 81?"
"And requests can be made to view records, though doctor-patient confidentiality has to be respected. Unless there is an extreme situation."
Maxson heard this last bit, and turned towards Hancock.
"Do you have any objections to this?" He asked.
"None so far." Hancock said. "Vault 81 keeps the medical records, though. You have to physically travel to the vault to access any medical records. That's my add-in."
"And what is the purpose of this Vault 81 holding the records in the first place?" Maxson asked.
"To prevent any notion of gene policing or eugenics." Blue said. "The files are to be kept solely for medical reasons, and would allow the doctors and engineers in Vault 81 to be aware of and even work on drugs that might help Ghouls in the future. Who knows? Perhaps one of the children of Vault 81 will come up with a cure for Ghoulification in the first place. Or even find a vaccine for feral ghouls."
Piper smiled, as she thought of that chipper and brilliant boy that Blue had saved in Vault 81. Austin. That was the kind of kid that might be the next great scientist.
Maxson was silent for a moment.
"I have one last addendum." He said. "The Brotherhood of Steel is responsible for its own medical testing of our own, and our records are to be stored on the Prydwen. We will not interfere in the data collection of Vault 81 so long as they do not interfere in ours."
"Unless there are extraordinary circumstances?" Hancock asked.
"Unless there are extraordinary circumstances." Maxson conceded. He'd placed an emphasis on "extraordinary," Piper noticed.
"So, in exchange for these deals, the Brotherhood of Steel is willing to recognize Ghouls as citizens of the Commonwealth?"
"Feral ghouls are a scourge to be eradicated from the face of the earth." Maxson said. "But if there is a record of non-ferals kept somewhere safe, and that can be used to perhaps help the condition of those that suffer from such a debilitating disorder…then the Brotherhood is willing to recognize citizenship for the rest of these individuals." He turned to Scribe Haylen. "SCRIBE! Have you recorded this?"
"Y-yes, Elder!" Scribe Haylen said. "I have it written down." Elder Maxson nodded.
"The scourges of nuclear fire has heavily scarred people such as Hancock here." He said. "Though their condition is pitiable, if there is a way to prevent unnecessary violence then I suppose emancipation is a worthwhile endeavor." He turned to Preston. "My scribe will compile a recording of this part of the treaty. If you and your leader have no objections, then perhaps we can sign it in as a done deal. There are other major things to discuss, after all. I don't want to waste my time debating trivialities."
Piper couldn't believe it. He was acting like an asshole, but Maxson was basically admitting that people like Hancock were not enemies to be shot on sight.
"Fair enough." Preston said, sensing the way Blue was thinking. "We'll look it over tonight, and then tomorrow morning at the next meeting we'll sign it into the treaty."
"Splendid." Maxson said, with no joy in his voice. "Now, to more pressing matters." He said. "Armament in the Commonwealth. Who has the right to carry weaponry?"
"Are you suggesting an infringement on the right to bear arms?" Preston asked.
"I care not for the Commonwealth farmer and his pipe rifle." Maxson said. "Ballistic rounds and their weapons are understandable needs for self-defense. I'm more concerned about your average farmer getting his hands on high-caliber laser weaponry and blowing off his hands."
"So what do you propose?" Blue asked.
"I don't care about the flow of guns that fire regular ballistics." Maxson said. "But anyone that wishes to possess or use a plasma or fusion cell based weapon must pass testing certification."
"Who would be responsible for the testing?"
"The Brotherhood." Maxson said. "If an individual can, by the opinion of a Proctor, display proper procedure for firing, loading, and even disposing of a spent fusion cell, then that individual has the right to carry high-power weaponry."
"What about traders and their guards?" Preston asked. Maxson waved his hands dismissively.
"They have a dangerous job. If someone has a permit to trade, then they may carry whatever they need to defend themselves." He said. "I'm more concerned with the average citizen who is uneducated about the dangers of fusion-based weaponry." He looked Blue in the eye. "I've given you Ghoul emancipation. At the very least let my order be in charge of teaching the Commonwealth responsible training for better defense. Let the Super Mutants be the ones that continually blow their own heads off."
"What about the Minutemen and their laser muskets?" Preston asked.
"The Minutemen are classified as an armed force, with rules and regulations." Blue pointed out. "Anyone that is in our ranks has received training with weaponry of this nature by Ronnie Shaw, Colonel and weapons specialist for the order."
"I would like to see this Colonel Shaw in action myself." Elder Maxson said. "But your overall point stands. The Minutemen and their weaponry are exempt. But the rest of the Commonwealth citizens are not. And I will bend no further on this."
Blue looked over at Hancock and Preston, who both shrugged.
"Very well." Blue said. "The Brotherhood can be in charge of the teaching and training of citizens that have ability to fire non-ballistic based weapons. Will there be a grandfather clause?"
"A grandfather clause?" Maxson asked.
"People that have been serving for years in one way or another and have been primarily been firing these kinds of weapons. Will they need to go through the same testing?"
Maxson was silent for a moment.
"That will be evaluated on a case-by-case basis." He said. "I will not say no, but I will not say yes outright. Now, do you accept the terms or not?"
It was clear that this was the best they were going to get out of him. Blue nodded.
"Fine."
"Then, to recap." Maxson said. "Emancipation for the Ghouls, though they need to be medically examined by an independent doctor to determine their overall health, and those records will be kept in this mythical 'Vault 81,' which I would like to see myself efore the end of these conferences. I believe you when you say it exists, but I am a careful man by nature." He then cleared his throat. "And concerning the proliferation of non-ballistic based weapons in the Commonwealth, the Brotherhood of Steel shall serve as the organization in charge of training and certification for civilians."
"Just like the DMV…" Blue muttered. Piper wondered what on earth he was talking about.
"If you have no objections?" Maxson asked.
Blue looked over at Preston and Hancock. Neither of them said anything.
"Good. Then let's move on to something that I think we can all agree on: the issue of the Gunners. What is to be done with them?" Maxson asked.
"They hold Quincy, or what's left of it." Preston said.
"That's a rather polite way of putting it." Proctor Ingram said. "I don't think I've ever seen a quiet day whenever Vertibirds fly over Quincy. In fact, we can't fly too close because I don't want to see a crash landing." She sighed. "It looks like a constant warzone."
"We've given up sending traders down through the south." Preston said. "Because we're too skittish about losing people. It's gotten to the point where the settlements that we keep in the southern Commonwealth are reduced to waiting on singular care packages from runners. Anything else has to be heavily guarded, and that takes away Minutemen manpower from other important areas."
"And my soldiers do not know the territory of the city to enter properly." Maxson said. "And while we dither, Quincy is continually burning. It will not be long before the fires start to catch the rest of the Commonwealth. I'd rather get rid of that thorn in our side."
"Then we're in agreement." Blue said, interrupting his quiet. "We're all doing this for the common good? Then let's put our heads together and squash them."
"That is an opinion that I can get behind." Elder Maxson said. And for the first time, he smiled.
But to Piper, it was like seeing a Deathclaw bearing its teeth.
…
"Captain!"
Danse looked up from the blueprints. He was leaning over one of the workbenches on the first level of the new "multi-level" complex that the Castle was constructing. The first floor had been built, which meant that now Danse had to get used to working in the shade whenever he stepped out into the courtyard. There was a chunk of the Castle courtyard that was left open so that plants could grow, but now it seemed that the majority of the crops were getting re-planted just outside the Castle walls. That would take a while. The last thing that he needed was to be interrupted.
"What is it, soldier?" He asked. The Minuteman that had come up to him seemed to wither in front of him. Danse might not be wearing any power armor, but it was clear that he still possessed that innate ability to radiate command and power towards those beneath him.
"Um, I have the most recent correspondence from Bunker Hill, sir." The soldier said, passing an envelope to the interim leader of the Castle. "I figured I would hand to you, seeing as how the Colonel is out in front of the Castle doing drills, and the General is currently in Diamond City."
"I'll take it." Danse said, grabbing the envelope. It was pretty heavy. No doubt Kessler had felt the need to write a massive tract on the current status of goods coming and going from Bunker Hill and why she wanted nothing less than full protection from the Minutemen to keep up her supply lines. Sometimes he wondered why the General bothered with dealing with the woman who had appointed herself the leader of Bunker Hill.
"Thank you." He said to the soldier. "Dismissed."
With that, the soldier left him to return to his business.
Danse looked at the envelope, and he sighed. This was no less than the fourth report that he'd been given this day, and it wasn't even dinnertime yet. It was usually around the night time guard shifting that scouts came back from their beats to report on the current standings in the Commonwealth.
Danse was so busy in his thoughts that it wasn't until the fourth time that he realized that someone was busy calling his name.
"Oy, Danse! Have you got rocks in your head, or are you just ignorin' me?"
Cait. Typical.
"No, I was distracted by the enormity of my responsibilities here at the Castle." Danse said. He frowned slightly. "This had beter be important, Cait."
"No need to get so damned fussy, you big ol' fusspot." Cait said. "I'm just here to fuckin' talk to ya. Seein' as how you're so busy wrapped up in your own thoughts." She smirked, and raised up a bottle of something strong. "You know, if you're feeling a little bit tired out, there's somethin' for that."
Danse wrinkled his nose.
"I don't drink." He said. Cait rolled her eyes.
"Suit yerself. More for me, then." She said, and she downed the rest of the bottle. Danse watched her with a raised eyebrow. He knew that the General had taken Cait to Vault 95 somewhere in the southern half of the Commonwealth to get her cured of her drug addictions. And it was definitely plural: there were times where, when they'd been idling in Santuary Hills, that Danse had witnessed Cait doing a cocktail of drugs crazy enough that Hancock was terrified to try it. And if Hancock found something too sharp…
Either way, Cait's addictions were gone. In their place was the simple joy of drinking for the sake of having fun. Danse knew that, based on the accent and some of the things that Cait would say, the woman was descended from a place called "Ireland," which was a place that apparently was filled with belligerents, drunks, and even belligerent drunks. But at least Cait was willing to talk every now and then.
Which reminded him…
"Is there something that you need, Cait?" He asked. "Usually you don't butter myself or the General up unless there's something in it for you."
At this, Cait suddenly looked a little bit unsure of herself.
"D'ya mind if we discuss this in his office?" She asked. Danse looked around. There weren't a lot of Minutemen out in the Castle right now; most of them were too busy working on construction and other improvements to the Castle. Curie and Shaun were both digging through the garden with Sheffield. Strong was busy carrying massive chunks of steel and wood into the courtyard for use in the construction. So no one would be paying attention. But if this was potentially sensitive information, then he supposed that he could accommodate Cait.
…
As soon as they were inside the General's office, Danse closed the door.
"What do you need?" He asked. Cait cleared her throat.
"So, you know that, before I started runnin' with you all…I was a fighter. A damned good one, in the Combat Zone."
"I'd never been there myself, but I'd heard that." Danse said. "You aren't thinking about taking up that lifestyle again, are you?"
"No!" Cait said. "Well…not me, exactly."
Danse folded his arms across his chest.
"You're going to have to explain this to me."
"I'm getting to that, you fussy tin can." Cait said. "So I wasn't the only one involved in the old Combat Zone. There was also my boss, Tommy Lonegan. He's a bit of a slick bastard, but he was lookin' out for me. I think that's why he gave my contract over to our friend, who went and got me clean." She said. She took a moment to smile slightly at the lengths that Blue had gone to to help her out. "But anyway, now that the Institute is out of the way, Tommy felt the need to reach out to me a few days ago. Said he was thinkin' about expanding his business ventures. Not just fighting, but other sports and entertainment and stuff." Cait said. "He said he didn't trust the Brotherhood, and that Diamond City had a stick wedged too far up its ass to take him seriously. He was hoping to talk to the leader of the Minutemen. I know that he meant our friend, but I was wondering…if you'd be willing to fill in that role?" She asked.
"You're asking me to be in charge of negotiating sanctioned fights?" Danse asked, somewhat incredulous. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't the fights you were getting in the kinds where two fighters entered but only one fighter left?"
"Well, yeah. But he's changing that!" Cait said. "Said he found a bunch of old tapes and magazines about this new kinda sports entertainment crap that wouldn't require the combatants to actually fuckin' die in order to satiate the crowd. Said he wanted to make it a cleaner business. Something. I dunno. I just used to be a fighter, and while active fightin' is behind me I can't abandon the guy. 'Specially since our friend fuckin' shot up the Combat Zone."
Danse was treated to the mental image of the General blowing away whatever scum had been watching the death matches that had been placed in the Combat Zone, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't feeling a twinge of satisfaction. But Cait, while crude and crass, was not necessarily a bad person. And if she said that this Tommy Lonegan wanted to go straight, then he was in no position to immediately discredit her. And he figured that such a matter was not worth getting the General involved, either.
"Alright, Cait." Danse said. "Send word to your friend Tommy that I am willing to speak to him on behalf of the Minutemen General."
At this, Cait's mouth went agape.
"Wha…for real? I was half expectin' ya to say no!"
"If you keep staring at me like that, then I might just give you what you were expecting."
"Alright, alright! That's the fusspot Danse that I know." Cait said, but there was no denying the satisfied glint in her eyes. "I'll pass the word on to Tommy. Knowing him, he'll wanna meet you here, in the safety of the Castle. I love Tommy, but he's a bit of a cowardly pissant." She gave a jaunty wave. "Well, it's probably time for me shift. Talk to you later, Danse."
She strutted out of the General's office, carrying herself like she was mighty pleased. Danse couldn't help but smile as he shook his head. Cait was a hothead, prone to crass remarks, seemed to be intent with sleeping with any and every man (or at least flirting with) that came within her radius, and delighted in causing trouble. But when it came right down to it, Danse noted that she wasn't so bad in the end.
He blinked in surprise. Here he was, thinking that Cait wasn't that bad? This job was really starting to get to him.
…
The stars glittered in the sky as Diamond City started to turn in for the night. There were some residents and members of the Minutemen (as well as the Diamond City security) walking about, and that Mr. Handy (what was his name again?) was managing Diamond City Surplus. Piper saw Zwicky and Edna quietly conversing over at the Noodle Shop, and she couldn't help but smile and shake her head. It wasn't exactly the most straightforward kind of love, but she'd been experienced to a lot of different and crazy things since running with Blue.
She was on her way to Diamond City Radio. Judging by the little radio she was holding, Travis was busy running a night shift of talk radio and music. He tended to do this once a week, but most likely he was too amped up by the arrival of the Brotherhood to get any decent sleep, so he'd been running "after dark" as he liked to call it, the entire week.
As Piper made her way through the back alleys of Diamond City, she felt a shiver come up her neck. She had the oddest feeling that she was being watched. Or followed.
She whirled around, drawing her 10mm pistol and pointing it in the direction that she thought she'd heard something.
That was when she felt the hand cover her mouth, and the shiv gently resting against her neck.
"Man, I must be getting slow. Any slower and you might have actually fired that thing, and woke up the whole damn neighborhood."
Immediately, Piper dropped the gun in shock. She whirled around, as the mysterious figure loosened the grip. She fumbled for the pistol, knowing that her "assailant" was not going to harm her, and then finally found her voice.
"Deacon?" She hissed. It didn't look like him. He was wearing a skull cap and what looked like a shaggy wig, as well as a thick beard. His clothes were ratty and smelled like cigars and booze. It was a perfect disguise. He grabbed her by the shoulders and marched off to the side of the street, so that they were in the dark and out of public view.
"Deacon, what the fuck?" Piper hissed. Deacon put a finger to his lips.
"Keep it down!" He said. "You really will wake half the neighborhood at this rate. And considering the newest tenents of the Upper Boxes, I'd prefer that not to happen."
"Deacon, what's going on?" Piper asked.
"Where's Fixer?" Deacon asked.
"Fixer" was the nickname that Blue had picked up when he started running work with Deacon early on during his time with the Railroad. But as Blue's duties with the Minutemen became larger, he'd had to quietly retire from his role as a Railroad agent. Deacon still called him the name though, mostly as a term of endearment.
"He's…he's at my place." Piper said. Deacon didn't even smirk or make a bawdy joke.
"Here's what's up. You gotta take me to him, but you gotta do it in a way that no one knows that I'm here with you. And you gotta take me to see him now."
"Deacon-"
"We're on a tight schedule, Deacon. Can she help us or not?"
The other voice came out of the shadows, and Piper about shit herself in shock. Desdemona was standing next to Deacon now, too, smoking one of those little cigarettes that she loved so much.
"Piper, I'm serious." Deacon said. "Let's just say that we've stepped in some deep shit. And if Fixer doesn't get the upper leg on what we're sitting on before Maxson does, then the whole peace talks are gonna get blown higher than the Institute."
A/N: CLIFFHANGER!
…You guys didn't really think that I was going to write a story without the Railroad, did you? Considering the comments readers have made about Blue and his supposed morality, it would fucking sociopathic for Blue to be this good man and General while at the same time having ordered the extermination of the Railroad. That would be impossible to reconcile with the story I'm telling.
So what have Deacon and the Railroad stumbled on that is apparently so big that Desdemona had to leave the HQ to come with him? You'll just have to wait and see…