10. An Emotional New Start
MacCready POV
Such Great Heights by Iron & Wine
It happened. I never thought in a million years. But… it happened.
I'm currently lying in bed, slowly waking up from what still seems to be a dream. But as I open my eyes, it's no dream. I'm lying in Beth's bed, next to her. She's curled up in the crook of my arm, asleep still. She snores a little bit when she sleeps, but instead of how people find it annoying, I think it adds a whole 'nother level of cuteness. She has her arm casually thrown over me, her mouth slightly agape as her wood sawing impression continues.
I look over to her Pip-Boy laying on the nightstand next to her eyeglasses. It's almost ten in the morning. Strange for her to sleep in this much. She's usually up by six. I, on the other hand, would prefer to sleep in every morning, but she is always so eager to start the day. I don't understand why. What does she look forward to so much out here in this wasteland?
As she wiggles a bit in her sleep, her snoring sputters, then picks up again once she settles down. Looking down at her, I still can't believe it.
A few nights ago, I took the chance of telling her how I've been feeling. I was so sure it was going to end badly. She would tell me I've gone too far, that she feels I'm only a friend, maybe like a brother. She'd then say that she wouldn't feel right being around me all the time. So, I'd go back to Goodneighbor and she'd stay here in Diamond City. We'd never see each other. Hell, she'd probably avoid me. Then I'd be lost all over again.
But it happened nothing like that. She said that she felt the same—that she has been feeling the same way. My body moved by itself without my mind's permission, and I kissed her. She didn't object—she kissed me back. And I still can't get over the fact that that actually happened.
As I lay here, with her at my side, I can't slow my thoughts down. I'm getting tons at once, and I feel like I can't process one before two more pop up.
What does this make us? Are we a couple now? Does that make her my girlfriend or something?
Can I even handle a relationship? I mean, I've been here before. I just got torn down and cheated of my happiness. Could I handle it if it happened again? No. I'd die. I'm pretty sure of it.
I have Duncan to think about. Should I uproot him and move him here, or should Beth and I move there?
But what about her son? Should we uproot him?
Will Shaun accept me? Will he even like me?
Can we even find him? What if I can't help her find her son?
I stop there, scolding myself for even thinking the words. I look down at her again, to her semi-quiet, sleeping form. She's so small, so delicate. Yet, she holds so much power—most of which she has no idea. She had the power to make me fall in love with her. I bet she didn't even try. Well, I don't know about that, the little minx. I chuckle. But however quietly, she starts to stir.
She stretches her legs out and moans softly. After yawning, she opens her eyes. Looking up at me, she smiles.
"Morning," I tell her, moving a piece of hair out of her face.
"Good morning," she corrects. I can't help a small grin myself. "It's a good morning, cause you're here." She tightens the arm stretched over me, giving me a hug.
"I can't argue with that." I crane my neck to kiss the top of her head. "Ready to face the day?"
"No, I wanna stay here," she says in a pouty tone. She tries to look over me to the nightstand. "What time is it anyway?"
I glance over again, then say, "A few minutes after ten."
Her eyes pop open. "Ten?!" She crawls halfway on top of me, making sure I'm not pulling her leg. Confirming the time herself, "Wow. I didn't think it was that late." She continues her crawling over me until she's standing up. She grabs her Pip-Boy and tunes in to Classical Radio, then sets it down again as she puts on her glasses and officially starts the day.
This is something I've been wanting to ask her for a while but never got the chance to. Propping my head up with my arm, I ask, "Why do you listen to that station all the time? They just play the same thing over and over."
She turns to face me from the cabinet on the wall. "And Travis doesn't repeat songs on Diamond City Radio?"
"Well, yeah," I admit. "I just never have really cared for classical myself."
She looks at me with wide eyes. "Not into classical?!" Whether she's faking or just overdoing her irritation, I can't tell.
I chuckle a bit, She's so extra. "Not really. To each his own, right?"
"No, no, that's just wrong," she walks back over to the bed with a grin and sits next to me. Playing with my sleep-tousled hair, she says, "Everyone's supposed to love it. It's just a rule in life."
She pecks my cheek then goes to stand to continue her morning routine. I stop her by grabbing her wrist, keeping her next to me. "Can't we just stay here for a while?" I ask. "I'd say you deserve some time off."
She looks a little perplexed at first, but then she sighs and grins, saying, "Yeah, I guess so. A day off wouldn't be so bad once in a while." Keeping the music turned on in the background, she climbs back over me and practically falls down at my side. She looks at me with a smile and nuzzles closer as I turn onto my side and put my arm around her waist. "I can get used to this."
It didn't go unnoticed that she still didn't answer my question. "So, why do you listen to that station all the time?"
She shrugs, her eyes closed in contentment. "Probably because it reminds me of my dad. I grew up listening to this art in audible form." She grins. "We used to listen to it all the time in our house. My mom was kinda like you—she didn't care for it. But Dad? He listened to it 24/7, cause his parents did when he was a kid. He worked a lot and was away, but when he was home—the whole time he was home—you could hear Liszt or Vivaldi or someone somewhere in the house at all times." She chuckles quietly, "He and I used to dance when I was a young girl. I wasn't very good at it, but that never stopped him from pulling me into a waltz. As a matter of fact, everytime The Garland Waltz by Tchaikovsky was on, we stopped what we were doing and merged into the living room to dance. Mom didn't care to hear our classical music as much as we did, but she loved watching us. So, she'd stop her task also and just stand in the doorway, where she thought we couldn't see her. But I knew. I always knew." Her grin morphs into something of a sad smile. Quietly, "I miss those days."
Without any kind of DJ announcing the transition, the station shifts songs and starts playing one I remember she called Salut d'Amour. "Who says you can't dance anymore?" I lift my frame off the bed and hold out my hand. "May I have this dance, Beth?"
She looks up at me with the most confused yet somehow happy face I've ever seen. "Can you dance?" she giggles.
I say, "I can try," as she stands in front of me, looking not so sure.
"It's been a while for me," she confesses. "I'm gonna be pretty rusty."
"Well, I'm not even sure I can," I retort. "So, either way, we'll both be bad." She looks at me flatly and mouths a sarcastic, Thanks.
She grabs onto my hand and places it on her hip, my other hand in her own. Placing her opposite hand on my shoulder she pauses until the next measure, then starts moving. I'm trying my best to keep up with her, but it's a little too fast, for me not knowing what to do. I guess she can tell it's a little much for me because she stops moving and steps in closer, wrapping her arms around me and lays her head on my chest. "It's okay if we just slow dance," she says with a soft chuckle. As I embrace her back, she starts to sway side to side.
"Well, this is easy enough." I lay my head on hers as we continue our lopsided dance.
As our day continued, we just hung around the house. We listened to Classical Radio the whole time as we lounged around, talking and whatnot. I couldn't argue with why she likes to listen to the station, since she told me. It won't bother me anymore, I thought, as I started to learn a new appreciation for the music.
It was around four in the afternoon—we were wondering around the big room, trying to figure out what to make out of it—when she got serious suddenly, her mood shifting from pure happiness to sullen grief.
"What's wrong?" I ask her.
She turns to me, her face looking like she hadn't even heard me. "What?"
I cross the room to her. "Something's wrong. What's the matter?"
She looks down, a frown on her face. "I just thought of something." She looks back at me. "I'd want to make this Shaun's room. Or make this our room and move Shaun upstairs." Her eyes drift. "I just want my baby back. I don't care if he's a child now. I just want him back." A tear falls onto the concrete floor.
"We'll find him." I step up to her and wrap her in a warm, reassuring embrace. "Do we have any leads?"
Against my chest, "Nick helped me figure out who it was. I just need to find him now." She lifts her head. "Remember that house we went into the other day?"
"Yeah," I say. "I think you called him Kellogg?"
"Yes. He's the guy. He took Shaun away from me. He's the one that killed Nate." A small, subtle stream of tears in falling down her face now. So, he's the bastard. I'll make him pay myself. I hug her to me tighter, not saying anything. Sometimes, all a grieving person needs is silent comfort.
After a few seconds I lead her to the living room and sit on the loveseat with her. A minute later, I break the silence. "We're gonna find him." I lift her chin up to look at her face. "You okay?" She nods, her eyes still red. "I'm going to go see Nick for a bit. I'll be right back, okay?" She must be deep in thought as she just nods again. Normally, I'd think she would want to come with me.
I stand up and leave the house. Walking to Nick's office, I think of what I'm going to ask him. I think of his verbal questionnaire the other day. Will he even trust me enough to say anything?
When I get to the door, I pause for a second. Taking a deep breath, I walk into Valentine Detective Agency.
His secretary, Ellie, looks up at me. "Oh, hello," she greets me. "Where's Beth?"
"At home. Is Nick in today?"
"He left to run a quick errand. He should be back soon. Need to speak with him?"
"Actually, yeah."
"Well, make yourself at home. He'll be back in no time." She gestures to a chair in front of her desk, then walks to a filing cabinet on the opposite wall, storing or moving files from place to place.
As I'm lowering myself to sit on the chair, the door opens and Nick walks in. I stand up as he walks to me. Shaking my hand with his own metallic hand, he says, "Robert, wasn't it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Why so formal, son?" he asks. "And where's Beth at?"
"She's at home, and upset about what she's been through. Which is why I'm here," I specify. "I want—no, I need to find her son. And she said you know a little something about it."
"Ah," he sighs. "I do know some, yes." He glares into my eyes with those yellow optics of his. "Why would a merc for hire want to help a young lady out?"
I clear my throat. "It's, uh… it's a little more than just a business partnership these days."
His "eyebrows" raise. "Is it now?"
"Yeah." I shift my weight from my left foot to my right. "But, uh… I really need to find this guy—Kellogg. He needs to pay for what he did to her."
He looks at me for a few seconds, seeming to decide if I can be trusted or not. Finally, he says, "Couldn't agree more. Here's what we know."
Nick told me about how Kellogg lived in the house Beth and I went to the other day—he and a ten-year-old boy. Shaun is ten years old now? I asked him. How was that possible? He better described to me how cryostasis works. It was possible—and most likely what happened—that she was refrozen for ten more years after the kidnapping of her infant. The thought just baffled me.
After talking about where we might find Kellogg, Nick and I decided we'd go after him in the morning. We thought it best to take Dogmeat with us, so he could help sniff our way there. I didn't know if Beth would want to go with us, or if it was even a good idea. But I decided I should at least tell her our plans.
When I walk in the door at Home Plate, I hear Beth turning the pages of a book from the second floor.
"I'm back," I say as I walk up the stairs. Making my way to the side of the bed, I sit down.
She looks up from her book. "Hey." She bends her head back to it.
"What are you reading? I ask.
"Walden. I picked it up when we were at Thoreau's cabin."
"Oh, okay." She continues reading. After a minute, I put my hand on her arm. "Beth?"
"Hm?"
"I just thought I'd tell you that Nick and I are going after Kellogg tomorrow morning. We're taking Dogmeat with us. He deserves to get out of the Agency for a while, plus we need his nose to guide us. I don't know if you want to go with us or not, but I just thought you would want to know." After I started telling her this, she looks up at me finally with her eyes looking scared to death.
"No, you can't go alone!" Her face is fraught with terror.
"I'm not going to be alone," I assure her. "Nick and Dogmeat will be with me."
"I don't think so," she says as soon as I ended my sentence. "I'm coming with you."
"You think that's the best idea?" I ask softly.
"I know it is. He took my husband's life and my baby away from me. I'm ending him." Her fear is no longer present—she has utter vengeance in her voice.
"Well, at least let me be there with you. I know how it is. You want revenge, and that's fine—understandable. But when you see him, you could get reckless. Let me protect you," I clarify. "I want to see him pay for what he did to you just as much as you. So, please don't take those things away from me."
She closes her eyes, her anger changing into an expression of upset deliberation. "What if he hurt you?" she asks, her eyes still closed. "What if he took not only Shaun? Or Nate's life? What if he took you from me, too? I can barely handle what I have been through. Do you seriously think I would forgive myself if he killed you? Or even hurt you?" She opens her eyes and sets her book down on the nightstand. When she looks at me, I see tears starting to form in her eyes. She shakes her head. "Not you, too." She blinks and the tears spill over.
I scoot back onto the bed, pulling her into my hold. "I won't let that happen," I promise her. "Did you not hire me to watch your back as you searched for your son? Well, this is me, protecting you. Not because of that stupid contract we made—it doesn't even matter anymore. I want to protect you. I need to. Let me," I plead. Silently, I can feel her nod against me, letting me know she will.
I lean back a bit, trying to get a look at her face. "We leave in the morning. And I don't think some extra sleep would hurt us. Looks like you could use some right about now anyway."
With my duster and hat not having left the top of the dresser today, I kick back further in the bed, Beth settling onto my chest as I rub soothing circles on her back.
"Tomorrow," I say before we go under. "We'll get it done. I promise"