7. Dark Past Relived

Beth POV

Let Me Sign by Robert Pattinson

I wake up in my bed in Diamond City, and the first thing I register is warmth. The second thing I feel is the sensation of… not being alone. My eyes snap open to find I was right.

MacCready is snoring rather loudly next to me. Well, not next to me as much as under me. I'm practically woven into his ribcage on the side, but my head and arm are resting on top of him. I also note that his hand is resting ever so lightly on my side. How did this happen? I wonder. Then I recall the dream I had shortly before I woke up.

I screamed myself awake from a nightmare as Robert was coming up the stairs. I'd asked him to stay with me, and that somehow resulted in us being wrapped up in a position just like this.

Realization: that wasn't a dream—that actually happened last night. No wonder the dream felt so real. It was. I'm not freaking out as much as I think I should be, and I find myself oddly being okay with how it ended up.

I start pondering on how I'm going to get up. Should I just stay here until he wakes up? It might be a while, if his snores are any indication. Should I wake him? I decide against the former thought, and try to move his hand off of my ribcage without waking him, but his snores start sputtering so I stop. Well, crap.

I decide it wouldn't be such a bad idea if I don't start my day right away. What's one day off? I ask myself. I did want a break after all. So, I continue to lay here by Robert, and I start thinking about various things, all the while enjoying the presence of another human being.

I'm kinda hungry. Wonder if he is. I should get some breakfast ready. Nah, I'll do it later when we're both up.

Wouldn't be too bad of an idea to go back to Kellogg's house and see if I missed anything. Might should check up on Nick, too. Haven't seen him in a while. Hope he's doing okay.

Boy, what a dream last night. I hope I never have one like that again. It was so disturbing. I'm glad Robert checked up on me. That was sweet of him. I'm glad he stayed, too. But…

Did he think it was weird of me to ask him to sleep next to me last night? I mean, he didn't say no, and he didn't even take that long to make up his mind. So, I guess he was okay with it.

And that face he had when he said he sometimes has nightmares, too. What kind of nightmares does he have to cause such a face of anguish?

Right then, his snoring cuts off to a mumble of sorts. He sighs, then moves a bit, stopping only after he realizes I'm here. His breathing stops for a second, just long enough for him to open one of his eyes and look down at me. His breathing continues after he closes it again just to snap both open and do a double take. His eyes are wide as they look at me, surprised to find me here. "Good morning," I say, struggling not to chuckle at his face—as it's quite comical. He moves the hand that's not on my side still, and touches my face—his touch feather soft, as if he's afraid I'll poof into a cloud of smoke.

He sighs and smiles faintly, "Good morning." He takes the hand he touched my face with and tucks it behind his head, holding it up. He says nothing more. Does he feel awkward right now? I wonder. I should be feeling awkward. Why aren't I? I decide to be the first to speak.

"Are you hungry?" I ask.

Looking to the "third story" of the house, he shakes his head. "Nah." Nothing else.

I clear my throat, getting the sound of sleep out of it. I try again for small talk. "I was thinking about just staying around here in Diamond City for today, if that's okay with you. I have to buy some ammo and check on a few things."

He shrugs the shoulder on the opposite side of me. "Doesn't matter to me. I'm fine with that." Nothing else.

The silence grows longer, and my mind starts wondering into darker places. Does he wish he didn't stay? I'm pretty sure I went to sleep before he did. What was he thinking about that whole time? He probably thinks I'm pathetic, asking him to sleep next to me—

"What're you thinking about?" he asks suddenly. Shocked, I look up at him from my resting place on his chest to find his eyes boring holes into my face.

I look down, away from him. "Nothing," I say in a rather convincing tone.

"You're thinking about something," he says. "I could see some of your face still, and I've become accustomed to you. You're pretty transparent to me now."

Reluctantly, I say, "I was thinking that you probably regret it."

"Regret what?"

"Staying with me last night," I clarify.

"You think I regret it?" His voice is so full of sadness that I look again at his face to see if his expression matches it. It does.

"I don't regret it," he says, matter-of-factly. "I'm glad I did, and I'd do it again." Seeing the confusion on my face, he continues. "You had a nightmare, Beth. I know how they are. All too well… I know how they leave you feeling when you wake up from them. Your scream… was full of torture. I wasn't sure if you were being murdered or not.

"I didn't want you to be alone in the first place, cause nothing is worse, but when you actually asked me to stay… How could I have said no? If I can help you any, I'm going to do it, no matter what. I… care about you, Beth. And I hate to see you hurt, no matter the form of pain."

He's so sincere. It touches me and makes me feel thankful for him. I take the arm that's still slung over his stomach, and give a light squeeze—a hug of sorts. "Thank you," I say with utmost gratitude. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

He pats my side with his hand that's lying there. "Same. By this point, I don't know how not to be with you."

"Good," I say with a chuckle.

A few seconds later, he says, "Okay, I was lying. I am hungry." We both laugh.

"Okay. Let's go get something to eat at the Dugout. Noodles aren't my favourite in the morning."

"No?" he asks sarcastically, dropping his hand from my ribs as I practically untangle myself from him.

"Nah." We both get up from the bed, stretching out our muscles and joints.

"Man, we didn't move at all, you know it?" He pops his shoulder with a groan, sore from being stretched around me for most of the night.

"Sure didn't," I reply, stretching my legs out from being bent for too long. "Not at all."

We spent an hour at the Dugout Inn, eating our breakfast and talking about random things. We never brought up the nightmare I had or the ones he's had in the past. While we were eating, Arturo opened, and we hit him up for all his .45 ammo. Then, we went to see Nick. We spent almost two hours catching up, and Nick spent nearly half of that trying to pick Robert's brain, seeing if he's "a good travel partner" or not. He had a weird look in his eye as soon as I told him we'd been traveling together for a while now. We proceeded to Kellogg's house after we finally managed to escape Nick's probing eyes. We didn't find anything I hadn't seen before, but it almost felt good, knowing I was in the place my son was recently in. We stopped by and said hello to Piper, her features looking just about the same as Nick's had when I introduced Robert. Why can't I have a traveling partner without it being weird? I thought. They thought nothing of it when it was just Dogmeat and I. I decided to let it go after my brain started hurting due to their reasoning.

After visiting Nick, Ellie, Piper, and Nat, as well as scouting Kellogg's house, we are ready to go home and relax. As we walk in the door and I sit on the couch and he the blue armchair, he asks without any ire to his voice, "So, what's their deal?"

"What's who's deal?" I ask.

"Well, all of them, really. But mainly Nick and Piper. Why were they asking me all those questions? I mean, aren't you capable of picking a companion without their assistance?"

I chuckle, "Yeah, I am. Maybe they're just protective. They know I'm 'not from around here,' so I guess they're making sure I didn't just pick up a random guy."

"You didn't pick a random guy. You sought me out, remember? It's not like I came to you and was like, 'Hey pretty lady, take me with you.'" Pretty lady? I think.

I pretend that part didn't stick out to me as I say, "Yeah, I did hire you myself. Guess they think my judgement is poor or something." I shake my head. "I was a lawyer. I'm pretty sure I can tell a straight up person from a criminal."

He shrugs. "I'm not trying to say you can't, but wasn't that before the bombs? People are a hell of a lot different these days. Most 'innocent' girls have killed people—whether they wanted to or not. I mean, what told you that I was straight up anyway?"

I think for a minute and come to a conclusion. "I have no idea."

"That was pretty risky, then," he says, raising his eyebrows. "I could've taken your money and ran. That's if I didn't kill you first. Most people would've. A young, naïve woman like you. I'm surprised no one had by the time you found me."

"Well, I guess I did have my reservations about you," I recall not trusting him enough to tell him about Shaun for a long while. I didn't even want to go into an alleyway alone with him in Goodneighbor when he wanted to talk. "I don't know why I didn't trust you, though. To be honest… it's almost like I felt a positive vibe about you when we first met. Like I knew you were good. That having you on my side would be a wise decision. Almost like a premonition." I chuckle a bit. "And I never have those, so I just rolled with it, I suppose."

He looks like he's thinking. "Yeah, I can kinda say the same," he responds. He pauses for a minute, and I swear I see a faint rose hint to his face. "I always knew there was something about you, from the moment I saw your head peek around the corner in the Third Rail. Then you told me about your past, and I knew that was it—why you were different. You weren't made to live in this world, but you're staying afloat, actually swimming at blinding speed. Hell, you're practically treading the water by now, you're doing so well. I didn't think you would do that good back at the interchange, if I'm being completely honest. It was surprising to see you kill most of them—I feel like I was just there to cover you, not to help you in equals. I trust you with my life. I did before, but especially after that. I know that if I'm ever in a jam, I can count on you…

"Which is why I need to talk to you." I shift a bit on the couch, anticipating to hear the rest. I'm not sure what he's about to say, and it makes me nervous. Much as the infamous "we need to talk" always has.

"Okay." He sighs and straightens up in the chair, thinking about where to start. Taking a deep breath, "I haven't told you that much about me. Especially in comparison to everything I know about you. That isn't fair, and I'm sorry. I just haven't been ready to tell you yet.

"I come from the Capital Wasteland, you know that much. I've told you a bit about living in Little Lamplight, and Vault 87. But that's just about as far as I've gone, right?" I nod. "Well, that's not everything, as you've probably presumed."

"I figured," I say. "I didn't tell you anything until I felt ready. Although it probably had something to do with the rum. But, I wanted you to tell me on your time—I didn't want to pry."

"And I appreciate that," he says. "I haven't felt ready… until now.

"Back when I left the Capital Wasteland, I didn't just leave my home behind… I left my family behind. I had a beautiful wife named Lucy. And a son we named Duncan. He's the one I made my promise to—to not swear, to be a better person… And… he's sick. I—I don't know what's wrong with him." I hear a tone I know very well: a parent worried half to death about their child. I've heard it in Nate's voice when he heard our baby cry for the first time, I hear it in my voice everytime I talk about Shaun nowadays. Robert continues, "He was just running around the lot behind my house when he fell down suddenly. The next morning, he was covered in blue boils of some sort. Last time I saw him, he was almost too weak to even walk…

"There's a guy that said his friend was sick like Duncan is, and that there's a cure in the Med-Tek research lab. I went there a while back but was ran off by ferals. Do you think you could help me get in there?" His voice is shaky and there are tears lining his eyes, threatening to overflow. He really cares for his son, is my first thought.

"Of course." My tone is firm, absolute. "We leave first thing in the morning."

The tears spill over, flowing down his cheeks. "Thank you." He comes over to the couch and sits down, hugging me. Remembering the talk of his wife, I'm hesitant to hug him back, but I still do.

After he lets go and leans against the back of the couch, I ask, "I know you're worried, but I'm sure he's okay back in DC. I mean, your wife is taking care of him, so that's good. At least he has the comfort of his mother."

He looks at me then away, a seemingly new batch of tears fall. "She's been gone for almost four years," he says.

I feel my face falling into the lose shape of an O. "I'm sorry. I had no idea." I think of what I just said: At least he has the comfort of his mother. "I'm so sorry," I say again, not knowing what else to say.

He sniffles, still looking away from my face. "You think I'd be better by now, her being gone for this long. But it still hurts. I still see her. I have nightmares about her death.

"We had no idea there were ferals in the metro we were staying in…" His face crumples. "Took everything I could muster to just get Duncan away." He squeezes his eyes shut, no doubt reliving the moment. I can't stand this, I think. It's one thing for me to feel like that, but he's just a kid.

I scoot over toward him, wrapping my arms around him. "I'm sorry," I repeat. I can feel him sobbing lightly, grieving his wife's death. He wraps his arms around me also, accepting my comforting embrace. We sit here like this—us both baring his sorrow—for a good half hour until he cries all of it out. I don't dare let go of him.

Still holding on to me, he says, "Thank you, Beth," and kisses the top of my head. We let go and sit there looking at each other.

"It's almost bedtime anyway," I start, "but I think I'm going to bed now." I stand up. "We have big plans in the morning." I smile gently.

"I can't thank you enough." He stands and gives me a goodnight hug. "Let's hope that cure's there."

"It better be," I say in a slightly aggressive tone. "If it's not, I'm gonna cut a bitch." He laughs a little bit, his eyes still red.

"Goodnight, Beth," he takes off his duster and hat and starts to lay down on the couch.

"Goodnight, Robert." I turn to go up the stairs only to stop and turn back to him. "I know it was difficult… to tell me all that. Trust me… But I really appreciate it. More than you know." He nods his head.

I climb into my own bed, hoping he doesn't have another nightmare about Lucy. But if he did, I'd be there in a heartbeat.