Note: Late on the chapter, had to do some research, sorry. Really wanted to see a different setting, but I'll figure that one out next time. (Resolution coming)

minor edit sorry

MacCready was sitting in the bar in the Hills, one leg twitching restlessly and fingers tightly wound around the neck of a liquor bottle. He'd been nursing the bottle of―something, didn't know. He wasn't paying attention when he bought it and he couldn't taste it, anymore. Had been drinking it slowly over the past hour, not trying to put himself out but trying to keep himself at a specific state of drunkenness.

Specifically the state where he didn't have any thoughts in his head, at all. Being drunk was easier than thinking. He didn't want to think.

Thinking just made him miserable. He'd already broken his promise to Duncan, being a better person―didn't need that guilt on top of everything else―didn't want to think about―

She wasn't talking to him. Again. Shut him down, after the Gullet. Just like after Natick. He didn't―goddammit, it shouldn't have ended like that―didn't know what he'd done to make her mad. Wasn't fair. He'd tried. He'd―he'd killed the ghouls, he'd saved the day―

And then he'd cried like a goddamn baby and she'd found him out. Knew exactly why he was hurting, too. MacCready closed his eyes and groaned to himself. If there was ever a worse place he'd picked to lose his shit―

MacCready took a long drink of whatever it was he'd bought and set the bottle on the table. Was hard to stop himself from going over and over the situation and wondering what happened. Why. Why did he bother trying to make heads or tails of anything, it never worked out. Nothing ever went his way.

Part of him knew that she wasn't talking to him because she had a lot to do in the Hills. Every time they'd come back, there was a new settler to put to work, or a shipment of building supplies, or someone who needed her to dash off into the wastes and go deal with a problem. She was―well, she'd taken Piper out with her this last time. He was relieved that she wasn't dragging that arrogant bucket of bolts out with her, but...

She ought to be taking him. Piper wouldn't watch out for her like he did. She was a damn tourist, outside of Diamond City. Couldn't shoot half as well as he could, and she didn't get bored sitting around the Hills. She ran around asking people their life stories, talking about the Commonwealth, working in the tato patch and―

Making friends. Something he'd not cared to do, at all. Didn't figure he would be around very long, before he'd told Ruby about Duncan's cure, and now he wondered why he even wanted to stay. He could be somewhere else―even down in D.C.―if he wanted.

Ruby'd asked him why he'd stayed, back in the Vault. He stared at the tabletop without seeing, remembering what he'd said. He stayed because―

Dammit, that was exactly what he didn't want to think about! MacCready eyeballed the bottle in his hand. Nearly empty, whatever it was. He felt in his pockets for caps. Also nearly empty.

He sighed, pulled his hat down over his eyes and held onto the brim, covering his upper face so that no one would see. Ruby hadn't said a word to anyone about his embarrassing fit down in the Gullet. She was good like that, keeping her word.

But if he kept thinking like he was, there was gonna be a repeat performance. Damn him for being so goddamn sensitive―he probably should go find a bed and try to sleep off whatever it was he was drinking, and hope tomorrow was better.

But his just day kept getting worse.

Always does.

Behind him he could hear the slow mechanical noise of Danse's power armor, moving into the bar. The clanking got louder and louder, as he realized Danse was moving toward him. His head was killing him, imagining what that―synth freak―wanted.

Christ, could―could he just be done with it, please? Done with everything. The hurt. The lost chance. Ruby's weird silences and the feeling that he'd never be good enough to―he was done with everything and everyone in the Hills. God, why the hell hadn't he left?!

...Leaving the Hills meant leaving Ruby. Meant leaving her to the danger of the Institute, to―to the Brotherhood, to―

If something happened to her, he'd never survive it. He knew that. He was a moron for letting her get under his skin like she had, but he'd wanted it. Wanted to... to love again.

Well, he'd got that. Couldn't help himself. Even if it was one-sided and he was feeling every damn moment of that like a red hot bullet fired right up his―

"MacCready," Danse said, a heavy hand landing on his shoulder and pressing down hard. MacCready swallowed the lump in his throat, tilting his head down and sliding down in the chair. Go away, asshole, he thought. Just... leave me alone.

He didn't reply, just stared sullenly at the inside of his hat brim and fought a wave of nausea rising from his stomach. After a moment, Danse removed his hand from his shoulder and moved around the table, hissing and banging in that ridiculous suit of his.

"I need to talk to you," Danse said. He was reminded of the last time that happened. History always repeats itself, doesn't it? Goddammit.

"Go away," MacCready said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Whatever you did, you deal with it. Worked fine last time." He looked up slightly, enough to catch the bottom half of the freak's face. Danse was frowning at him, and MacCready scoffed.

Danse considered him for a moment, then picked up the bottle that he'd laid on the table. "I understand if you feel the need to... relieve stress," he said, slowly. "But I doubt it is necessary to drink yourself into stupidity, to do so."

"Yeah, I know. M'already stupid," MacCready mumbled, angrily.

Danse put the bottle back onto the table. "No need to be so combative," he said. "I was sent to retrieve you. Ruiz requires your help."

Goddammit. Every―every damn time! MacCready tipped his hat up and stared at the―thing―standing in front of him. Why the hell did she―why did she even want this freak around? He was a goddamned synth―

The things they'd been fighting since he signed up with her, the things that she'd been so hurt by, before. That boy, the one she thought was her son―she oughta have put a bullet in Danse's fake face faster than he could blink.

But he guessed Danse won the day, when he'd talked to her on that bridge. Or... whatever. Every time he'd tried, he'd only failed worse than the last. Danse―might not know how to talk but damn the bastard for his persistence!

"...In your present condition, you cannot be of help," Danse stated. "I will tell Ruiz that you are unavailable." He turned and began walking away.

"No," MacCready said, pushing himself out of the chair with a wobble. "No, I'm coming."

"Unless you have some sort of instantaneous remedy for your current state of inebriation," Danse said, pausing and staring at him, "I seriously doubt that Ruiz will take you with her."

MacCready put a hand out and grabbed the edge of the table, and jabbed a finger at the synth. "Don't care what you think," he said, his words slurring in his mouth. He grimaced at himself.

Danse narrowed his eyes. He put a hand out and pushed down the finger that was jabbing his armor. "You've told her, haven't you?" he said, abruptly. "I would hazard that her reaction was not what you anticipated."

MacCready's face flushed with blood, anger that he'd kept repressed for too long finally making it's way up to the surface. "You―" he started, slapping away Danse's hand. Danse tilted his head, staring at him with a critical look on his face. "You don't get to―" MacCready snapped, unable to form the words he wanted to say. He was all messed up from drinking―he knew better than to start a fight with someone he'd never get one hit against, even―

Danse reached out a hand and steadied his shoulder, his face softening. "I understand, you know," he said, quietly. "I felt the same, once. But I wasn't the right fit."

MacCready's head felt like it was about to explode from the anger. This asshole―giving him a damn pep talk like he'd given Ruby―he couldn't even made heads or tails of what Danse was saying, dammit! Wasn't right―what?

"I will convince Ruiz that her trip can be delayed until the morning," Danse was saying, removing his hand from MacCready's shoulder. "You need to sleep this off."

He had the perfect comeback for that, but it was too late for him to say it. MacCready pitched forward, swinging out an arm to connect with Danse's chest, but ended up knocking his forehead into the armor. Everything went a little fuzzy―

He passed out, sprawling onto the bar floor.

"He did what, now?" Ruiz snapped, when Danse returned to tell her that the former Gunner was presently of no use.

Danse repeated his statement to her that the man drank entirely too much and had fallen unconscious. "I did tell him that I would ask you to stay in the Hills until the morning," he added, gesturing to the provisioner that she was intending to escort across the wastes.

Ruiz pinched her nose and put her elbow in her other hand, sighing. After a moment, she dropped her hand and looked at the provisioner. "I'll meet you there," she said, waving the woman away.

"Why should I wait," she grumbled, looking back to Danse with a frown. "He knows better than this―"

"You've left him without much choice but to be upset," Danse chided her, staring down at her. "If you'd actually talked to the man like you should..."

Ruiz's head sunk into her shoulders a little. "It's not that easy. You know that," she said, her voice strained.

"You continue to delay the inevitable and that only makes the matter worse," he replied, frowning at her.

She put a hand on her face and slowly pulled it down, turning herself to look back at the Hills. "Okay," she muttered. "Where'd you put him, anyway?"

"The house with the trimmed hedges," Danse replied. "Closest to the bar."

She flinched. Danse raised an eyebrow at her, pressing his mouth together. He was well aware that the house in question was her own, from before the War. Piper had mentioned that Ruiz hadn't gone into the place, since her first exit from the Vault. The Handy had confirmed that as well.

She had not gone into the house, and it was time that she did so. Maybe she wanted to keep the memories as clean as she could, or maybe it was too painful. His own past was now one enormous guessing game, an unknown. Hers was set in rusted metal and broken windows, in the house that sat across the way from the workshop table. The last step in moving on from her past would be confronting those memories, and getting over them.

She needed to face those memories as much as MacCready needed her to say to him that she was willing. Danse knew she was perfectly capable of handling this matter, if she put herself to the task. He also knew why she was hesitating, and he found it alarming that she would not rise to the challenge as she had so many times before.

Ruiz had fought every battle with words before bullets, up to this point. Telling the Gunner how she felt shouldn't be as hard as she was making it out to be.

"You know you need to fight this battle," he said, simply. Stared her down, watched the emotions running rampant over her face.

"You're really taking this brother thing to heart, aren't you," she muttered, shooting him a dirty look.

"Do you expect any less?" he replied, giving her a knowing look.

"No," she said, sighing. She set her feet and started walking down the road into the Hills, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

Danse nodded, watching her walk away, before moving off to resume his patrol of the waterfront.

Ruby stepped onto the walk, staring up at the old house. Her eyes started to drag to the left, toward the tricycle that she knew would be sitting in the yard, but she forced herself to take a few more steps toward the door and away from the sight.

Damn Danse for―she was beyond irritated, now. He was right, she knew that, but damn him―Ruby walked forward and through the doorway, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. She could hear―

The television, the newscaster droning on about world affairs; the gentle humming of the refrigerator and the door slamming shut awkwardly when closed, because the seal had come loose the week before; the soft whooshing of the washing machine running a cycle. Nate was talking to her about buying the Handy, and then the doorbell rang.

Codsworth's voice, from the very back of the house, calling out to her; a high-pitched cry, tearing at her heart.

Ruby stifled a sob, feeling her knees going weak. She forced herself to open her eyes, and see the disaster that had become her home.

It... wasn't very different. The couches and television, the kitchen set, everything was where it had been. The only difference was the grime of nuclear war that had blasted through the house―

And a cacophonic snoring that was coming from the couch to her right, where MacCready was passed out. She turned herself and put her hands on the back of the couch, staring down at him.

He had his mouth open, snoring loudly through it, one hand on his stomach and the other flung up against the back; one leg was on the floor and his hat was askew on his head. She took a deep breath and moved away from the couch, moving into the hallway.

Ruby trailed her hand along the wall, glancing in at the laundry room, before stopping short at the door to Shaun's room. She felt the tears coming down her face, then. Couldn't stop them. Couldn't stop imagining what―what should have happened―

Couldn't help but hear Shaun talking about the revenge he'd set up for her to take, on Kellogg. Revenge for a father's death, a father that he'd never had a chance to feel anything for―and she'd blindly walked into that machination he'd made, killing the man. A man who had lived an incredibly long and painful life, who'd suffered the same loss, a...

Kellogg was a killer, no doubt. Even Shaun had said as much. But his life had taken a dramatic turn because of the Institute, and so had hers. She couldn't help but feel sympathy for what he'd become, and... she felt somewhat grateful that she'd been the one to put him down. Not for Shaun―but for herself, for the life she might have resumed being so rudely torn from her.

She wiped her face roughly and stepped across the hallway to their bedroom, sliding to the side and putting her back up against the wall. Stared at the ruined bed frame―remembered.

Nate laughing as he put the frame together, her handing him a hammer, complaining about her back hurting, him poking fun at her for having the gall to go and get herself pregnant. Her playfully swatting him with a rolled-up newspaper, then feeling the funny twist in her stomach and realizing―

She slid down the wall and sobbed into her hands, uncontrollably. Her head felt like it was in a vice, pressure all over, ears stinging and nose running with the tears she'd thought she was done crying.

Wasn't sure just how long she cried. She managed to stay upright but she could feel the cold metal of her wedding ring digging into her eyebrow as she held her face, sobbing. After a long time she dropped her hands to her lap, staring at them as they shook, and felt her fingers numbly as she pried the ring from her finger.

Ruby held up the ring, looking through it at the bedroom. The setting sun had nearly finished, darkness falling over the Hills. She―

All she could see was the broken bed and the gently swaying grasses outside of the busted walls. She tilted her head back, closing her hand over the ring. Held her fist at her mouth, breathing weakly, and felt exhausted.

But she had to do this. She didn't have an option. Ruby pushed herself up and moved quickly across the hallway, throwing herself into Shaun's room with a decisive motion. Everything was knocked around, but it was all still there―

Even... his crib. Oh, God―

She winced and and closed her eyes, more tears coming, turning her head away. She could feel tiny fingers grabbing hers, so strong for someone so little. Could see his eyes on hers, dark brown, rapt at the sound of her voice. Remembered the warmth of his sleepy head against her chest as she held him in the chair, reading―

Her foot bumped into the book on the floor. Ruby opened her eyes a slit and stared down at the "You're Special!" board book, and lowered herself onto her heels. She reached out and picked it up, touching the tattered cover softly.

She shudder with another sob. Stared at the book as she flipped it open, mouthing the words to herself.

"L is for Luck, and it's simple, you see! It means that good things always happen to me!"

She closed the book, staring at the cover for a long time, then righted herself and placed it down on the nearby table. Looked at her wedding ring in her hand for an even longer time, sucking up snot into her head, and put it on top of the book. Felt in her pocket and removed Nate's ring, placing it beside the other.

She adjusted the rings so that they were neatly lined up on the cover of the book and turned back to the hallway. Wiped her face as she walked back through the house, stopping at the couch to stare at MacCready again.

He'd shifted position, turned himself to face the back of the couch, one arm under his head and the other up near his chin. He'd curled up in a fetal position and his hat was trapped under his arm. She tilted her head at him, then plucked the hat out from its entrapment, moving around the couch.

Ruby sank into a chair across from him and leaned her head back, closing her eyes. When he woke up... she fingered the brim of his hat. They would talk. Proper-like, even. She'd... she'd tell him how she felt. Apologize for ignoring him so much.

...She had a feeling she was going to do a lot more crying, though.

Ruby sighed.