Before the war, the spire of the Hopesmarch Pentecostal church towered over the greenest grass Molly had ever seen. The garden, clipped and maintained with perfect hedges, reflected against the white weatherboard and the blue of the sky. She remembered the smell of popcorn and the taste of sugared donuts at the church fete and the sound of music and a gaggle of silver-haired women and men oohing and aahing over the barely three-week-old baby in her arms.

In the Glowing Sea, everything is green. However, it's not grass that taints the atmosphere, its radiation. There is loss and despair that permeates the air, all to a background tune of rads crackling on a pip boy.

She stood at the foot of the bell tower, the sound of the wind howling around her. She looked through the skylight and could see the walking corpses below.

"How long do you think they've been here, Nick?" She stepped clumsily around the sunken church, the memories creating an aching loss that made every footstep heavy.

"Hard to say. But likely pre-war. So quite a while I'm guessing," he replied.

"How is this possible, how can someone- how can anyone live in this radiation? How can-" Molly's voice caught. Smells and sounds of church fetes were long gone and this was the only thing left.

"You've seen the ghouls, I don't know exactly. I'm taking it as something genetic. Why some people die, and yet others transformed. I don't know."

"I knew this church. This was my friend Davina's church. She was married here. Her children baptised here. I came here with Shaun and Nate and we-" She closed her eyes and found it difficult not to let out a whimper.

When she opened them again, she stared at the feral ghouls roaming back and forth along the gallery and lower. They could have been singing, celebrating, mourning, crying in joy or sadness, or offering a simple devotion amongst the comfort of the thought of a divine at the end of the world. Molly scanned the ghouls, hoping that she wouldn't catch a glimpse of a Davina's Sunday best fuchsia colored dress amongst the many who still wandered. Much of the clothing was in tatters, their faces mauled by the radiation, there was nothing recognizable here. She sighed and shook her head as tears threatened to fall.

"Let's go, before I fog up the rest of this hazmat suit, Nick." Her desire to leave grew with every minute spent staring in through the broken ceiling.

They reached Virgil's cave in record time. They managed to avoid the death claw stalking just outside, but not the radscorpions. They had to kill four on the way to the cave, the click of their pedi-palps made for a chilling accompaniment to the background wind whistle.

They entered the cave to find Virgil bent over a desk mumbling. "Damn these fingers they might as well all be thumbs."

"Virgil." Molly's voice was quiet and not able to penetrate above the whir of the robot patrol.

"Huh?" Virgil turned.

"Virgil, It's me, Molly." She watched as the mutant faced them.

"Ahh you've returned. I didn't think I'd see you again, but then you bought down that psycho Kellogg, anything was possible." Virgil's glasses sat far at the end of his nose and he pushed them up with a thick index finger.

"I have the code," Molly's voice had an air of quiet pride, that she had at least made it this far.

"Damn, that was fast. Who helped you?" His large green brow furrowed.

"I found the Railroad. They said they would help. They said that-"

"You trusted those kooks? I thought they'd be more interested in liberating computers and telling nuka cola machines they had souls." He sniffed in disgust.

Nick laughed and Virgil scoffed in response. "Sorry, their reputation is- something else."

"I- I don't know much about them, but they've helped. At least they said they would help." Her gaze darted to Nick, who looked calm and collected as always. She was sure they would help.

"Mmmph. Well, whatever they told you, I have something for you in that case. Schematics." Virgil handed a chip over to Molly

"Schematics, for what exactly?" She made to scratch her head only realising then she still wore the Hazmat helmet.

"I'll make it easy for you. You need a device that can transport you to the institute. These schematics will help you build such a device. With it you should be able to hijack a signal they use to transfer coursers in and out of the wherever they are."

"Okay, sounds straightforward enough. Nick?" She turned to her synth companion with a concerned look.

"I know they come and go, the coursers, but no one has ever seen how they managed it. And no one I know has ever fought a courser and lived to tell the tale." He placed his hands out plaintively in front of him.

"Another thing." Virgil pointed to the radio on the sideboard. "The classical music station, you know the one?"

"Yes, what about it?" Molly said.

"It's the carrier signal for the relay. All the data has been there all along."

"Shit, really?" Molly's legs shuffled as she stood.

"Shit, really. But I want to make it clear, this is not my area of expertise. I'm a biomedical engineer, not an advanced systems specialists." Virgil flicked his hand under his chin. "Damn systems specialists."

"Advanced systems? What is that?" Nick asked.

"You'll find out soon enough, divisions within the institute. But that's irrelevant." He pointed to Molly. "If you don't have the people to help you build it- do you have people?"

"Don't worry about that." She gave a dismissive wave. "And our bargain? We'll get what we promised you, Virgil."

"I should hope so, after the trouble I went to get all of this for you." He thumped his chest. "I just want to be myself again. Instead of this monster." He picked up a pencil awkwardly on the workbench in front of him and Molly heard the audible snap of the wood as it broke into pieces within his grasp.

"I'm not religious, but maybe we should both pray that this works." She never believed in the power of prayer, attached so often to something she had trouble believing in. But there were moments she saw in others. Hands held across the dinner table in familial bond before breaking bread. Davina's prayer for Shaun after meeting him for the first time. A promise before an alter from a man she deeply loved. Today she thought on prayer reaching beyond faith of the divine and that was something she could believe had power.

"I'm a man of science. I don't believe in such efforts." Virgil stated.

"And I am a woman all out of options," Molly sighed. "It's all I have left."

Nate stood in front of her, his hands holding hers, caressing her forearm with a finger, and all she could think about was his parent's yellow weatherboard clad house. The lace of the metal decorations standing stark white against the sunny painted edifice, the suburban street filled with sounds of children on bikes, sprinklers and the smell of Virginian style barbeque burning in every backyard.

"Molly?" He continued to stroke her arm waiting expectantly for her to answer.

She shook her head out of the daze of suburban thoughts. "Yes, yes, of course," she said in a affectionate tone. She had expected a proposal, Nate was terrible at keeping things a secret from her; however she was both surprised and delighted he had done it here just after a visit to his parents. She was also sure he had spoken with his father about it first. She closed her eyes and smiled at the delicate sensations dancing across her skin from his hand. "I will marry you, Nathaniel Gould."

"Phew, I thought you were gonna say no there for a second." Relief washed over his face.

She leaned up to him for a kiss. "That would never have happened."

When they made love that night, in the small tiny bed of the bed and breakfast Nate's mother had arranged for them, in which Nate had joked that he would part the Red Sea of the hallway to be with her and having single beds and separate rooms was not going to stop him, Molly had a moment. She reflected on who they were, and what it would mean to marry him, to attach herself to a family so unlike her own. The Gould's were devout, never questioning, their faith never shaken by the tumultuous world around them. Nate less so; however, he believed in a higher power, something Molly had struggled with over time. It had played on her mind, his belief compared to her lack, and she had spoken at length with him about the fact. He had placated her fears saying that he had enough for both of them. She worried about her own family's reaction to the news. Her father so damn certain about everything he didn't believe, her mother likely to question why they need marry at all.

However, Molly loved Nate, more than she had ever loved anyone. She remembered a saying, 'faith makes all things possible but love makes all things easy'. So she had kissed him and called his name over and over in a shared intimacy of the small bed.

They married, in the Gould family church of Taunton, Virginia, and Molly Ann Martin became Molly Ann Gould and any conflict of faith melted with laughter and the sound of church bells. It would stay that way through the years until the bombs fell. Until Nate was no longer there and her family destroyed.

Molly and Nick decided to spend the night in Virgil's cave. Outside the radstorm had picked up and even a hazmat suit might be vulnerable. Virgil grumbled about the unwelcome extended presence of the two of them, but said he could tolerate it as long as they were gone by mid-morning at the latest.

Molly removed her helmet and took two tablets of Rad-X from a bottle in her pack. Even this far below ground the rads were high. She swallowed the bitter, odorless tablets, the flavour reminded her of when her mother left the bitter flower base in her chrysanthemum vinaigrette, it tainted the salad much the way radiation tainted this whole area. She was still amazed that people could live in a place like The Crater of Atom, or even be immune to the radiation. If you believed the Children of Atom, it was heavenly intervention.

She slept fitfully and woke at two am unable to return to sleep. Her first thought was of MacCready, that she hoped he was sleeping more soundly than she. She sat up in the dark of the cave and reached for water.

"I'd be careful, that water is likely contaminated now."

She jumped and looked into the yellow glow of Nick's eyes. He sat in a chair nearby. "Shit, Nick. You shouldn't scare a girl like that."

He scratched his head. "Sorry. Can't you sleep?"

Molly stood and went over to where he sat and plonked down on the undulating ground next to him, it was hard on her soft behind, even through the toughened material of the hazmat suit. "No. Too much playing on my mind."

"You've been preoccupied for a while, General." Nick leaned his elbow on his knee and placed his face in his mechanical hand.

"You noticed?" She laughed and bought her knees into her body and sighed. "Of course you did."

"A problem shared is a problem halved," he said, matter of fact.

"I know, we still have to deal with Eddie Winter, but I have promised to help you. Don't worry, Nick." She patted his knee and lowered her head.

"You know I'm not talking about that." The metal of his hand scratched down his chin to his throat then back up again.

"Yeah I know." She fiddled with the strap on the hazmat suit. She needed her thoughts to drift elsewhere, away from her current feelings about MacCready, he didn't want her and her thoughts of foolish dalliances needed quelling, if she could only get Nick off the scent of her disquiet. "I need a distraction. What do you think I need for Homeplate? Do you think the weapons and armor benches are going work in that space? What about the office?"

"That's not a distraction, that's a deflection."

She ignored him and continued, words spilled out of her mouth before she could process them. "Be nice to get one of those stovetop burners to work. Do you think you could try? I mean I could heat water on it. Hell, even cook; make myself a cup of tea. You name it. I just need more- stuff. Maybe a wood fired cooking station. I'd need a chimney, of course. And I'd definitely need some decent cooking pots. Just imagine cooking homemade stews."

Nick's laugh was quiet with a deep resonant chuckle.

"What? What's so funny, Valentine?" She couldn't hide the growing smirk.

"Do you know what a Bowerbird is, General?"

"I do actually. They're a bird from Papua New Guinea jungle. They like to collect things. Their most notable characteristic is their extraordinarily complex courtship and mating behaviour." Molly looked to Nick and felt the heat rise in her collar and flush over her face. "I- I meant- bowerbirds build a structure and decorate it with sticks and collect brightly coloured objects- shit - in an attempt - forget the mating bit, they just collect a lot of stuff, okay? They collect a lot of junk to attract- damn."

Nick's laugh grew and a grumbling Virgil shouted from the next room.

Molly stifled a laugh with her hand.

Nick stopped laughing and they both stayed quiet for a while. "Molly, if you want an honest opinion I think you're going round in circles on this. I'm no relationship counsellor or confessional priest, but I can listen. If you need an ear that is."

Molly dug her heel into dirt floor. "Obviously I-" She rubbed the space on the bridge of her nose and gave a quiet laugh. "I've never been with anyone, the way I am with him." Her thoughts on the relationship were a constant source of anguish for her, he was so much younger than her and she had dismissed him with that alone. However, that day in Sunshine Tidings she recognised the shoes that he wore, because they had been an ill fit on her feet too. It was like eating an artichoke, where it only revealed it's softness and its deeper flavour as you peeled each layer away. And when you reached the heart and it was was laid out on a plate you could cut it so easily with even the bluntest of knives. He said he cared about caps, whiskey and cigarettes. She'd learnt they were the spiny tough layers built over time, from the harsh reality of the Wasteland, and they existed only to protect a gentle and caring heart.

"I'll be honest, Nick, it isn't straightforward. Not like with Nate."

"We're in the Wasteland and two hundred and ten years have passed for you." Nick was silent for a moment. "I don't think for you anything could possibly be straightforward. He's a young guy, but he's seen a lot. Been through a lot." Nick tapped his chin again. "Do you miss your husband?"

Molly pushed at with a rock on the ground then picked it up between clumsy fingers of her gloved hand. "Not as much as I thought I would. Not as much as I should. He grounded me. He was my rock. And now he's gone." There was a sense of relief to finally admit that out loud. That she had only thought of Nate in fleeting moments that her sense of self was becoming separate from the man she had loved for many years. She crushed the rock in her hand to dust. "And Shaun, I barely knew my baby and I do miss him like -"

"Like there's a piece missing?"

She nodded. "But, then I feel like there is a lot of me missing." She had thought for a time it was possible it was never missing, that in fact that it was never there to begin with, and that thought frightened her more than she cared to admit. "Maybe I'm trying to find it in all this junk I pick up. Perhaps I should visit All Faiths Church and speak with Pastor Clements again."

"How do you feel about him then?"

"Who? Pastor Clements?" She bowed her head when she realised and gave a short embarrassed laugh. "Oh, of course, him, him, yeah, a problem shared and all that."

"I think he's smitten with you, General. He has a lot of faith in you, as do many others."

Molly gave a heavy sigh. "I don't know about that, Nick." Molly couldn't see beyond her own views of her incompetency to think others could have that much confidence in her. "Look, MacCready and I had a moment but now it's gone and he made it clear that he wanted to keep it professional. As per our contract."

"Hmmmph, he said that?" Nick cocked his head towards her, "I should have known."

"Yeah he did." She felt her shoulders droop. It was difficult to hide the disappointment in the whole unfolding events that occurred between her and MacCready.

"I guess his contract is finished. I wonder why is he still here then? He's got the Gunners off his back and the cure for his son's illness, why is he still working for you, if he doesn't need to even be here?"

Molly's brow furrowed and she laid her head on Nick's knee, surprisingly soft against her ear, she had expected it to be like a hard pillow. He shifted awkwardly before laying a hand on Molly's shoulder. "Beats me. I've told him there's no debt to me, but I think he has it in his head he still owes me something. You'll have to ask him, I guess."

"Jackass."

"I take you mean MacCready not me," she said with an amused tone.

"Maybe." He gave another quiet chuckle.

"Molly? What are you doing home?"

Molly shifted from the sofa, walked to the sink, and filled the kettle without looking at him. "I wasn't feeling good. That's all." She wiped her hand over her face that moments prior were covered in tears.

"Molly?" Nate came up behind her, took the kettle from her hand, and placed it on the bench. He placed his arms around her, and kissed her shoulder. "It's okay. We're okay."

Molly let herself go limp in his embrace. The dreaded two-week wait had disappointed again. She broke from him and wiped her eyes. "This is supposed to be easy, isn't it?"

"Yeah so they say, wouldn't have a populated world otherwise." He held his arms out for her. "Come here. You can't say we're not having fun trying though?"

She gave a quiet laugh as she sank into his chest again. "Definitely a lot of fun."

"Maybe we should go speak with someone; we should have done that before we even started. I mean it's been eight months and we're not getting any younger." He kissed the top of her head. "And what I mean is we both go. We both have a thorough physical."

"You would do that, for me?" She looked up into his face. Nate Gould was always there with a word, always saying the right damn thing, and at the right damn time.

"Molly. That is not a question I think I want to hear again." He wiped away the remnant tears from her face with his thumb and kissed her long and slow. "I have faith that we will get what we want, if not what we need."

She hugged him tight.

"You go sit. I'll get - what was it? Tea?" he said. She nodded. "And maybe a little sympathy?" he added.

There were days that she didn't think it possible she could love him more. The road to having a child had not been easy; she was sure it would only get harder. Then he gave her the faith he had, and everything felt as though it would fall into place.

The relief that Molly felt on leaving the Glowing Sea was evident in her stride, her gait slowed, her breathing quiet. She removed the hazmat suit as soon as she could, dosed herself with more rad-x and they began their trip back to the Railroad headquarters.

It was early afternoon when they reached Old North Church. Molly hadn't thought twice about the ghouls inside the first time they'd fought their way through the tunnels. This time though she thought back to Hopesmarch and her heart sunk. The ghouls here, they too might have been here to worship or to pray for a miracle, that they would survive or be delivered from the destruction around them.

Inside the Railroad HQ, Desdemona and Tom were deep in discussion. The room was filled with half a dozen agents. There were the background noises of people working, talking and tinkering.

"Are we interrupting anything?" Molly asked.

Desdemona turned to her and took a deep drawl of the cigarette in hand. "You're back, what is it?"

I have these schematics." Molly paused and looked around the room. "A scientist said they would get me inside the institute."

Desdemona stubbed her cigarette out on the floor. "That information came from the courser chip?"

Molly nodded.

"You needed the frequency? Why? What does this machine do?" She narrowed her dark brown eyes at Molly.

She took a deep breath. "The machine is a teleportation device that can hijack a signal to transport me inside the Institute."

Desdemona snorted a laugh. "This is unbelievable; we've tried for years to get this close to them. Too many people have died for this shit. Now, to have the ability to hit them in their home base? You are very determined woman, Molly."

Molly smiled. Determined would not be the word she would use to describe herself. Desperate, cowardly, fearful, that's what drove her, not determination.

Desdemona laid a hand on Molly's shoulder. "Thanks to you, we have something. That isn't to be taken lightly and we'll get as many people on it as fast as we can. We've got work to do."

Molly scratched her head and sighed. If took aligning herself to a group she wasn't certain about, then that's what it had to be. Deacon in particular had been a riddle she couldn't get her head around, he had lied to her, told her things she had believed with all honesty that she felt could be true but maybe weren't. He had told her she was too quick to trust, and that not trusting him would be a good place to start working on that. She just hoped her desperation hadn't allowed her to align herself with the wrong people.

"We need to concentrate our efforts, drop everything to get this built. Go speak with Tom. He'll tell you what your next move should be." Desdemona lit another cigarette and then disappeared to talk with PAM.

The rest of the day, and most of the following was spent with Tom, whilst Nick tailed her and catalogued everything they needed. There would be likely several stages, the first, a platform. Once that was completed, she was to send word to Tom and Desdemona to come. They had suggested Mercer safehouse, currently residing on Spectacle Island. It was a quiet location and still to attract any settlers. However, Molly felt it was too isolated from the Minutemen and from Preston, so she suggested Sanctuary instead.

"Are you sure you want to do it there?" Nick asked.

"Nick, if I manage to bring Shaun home, that is the first place I want him to be. Even though he won't know it, I'll know it." She looked to the ground. "It will be like coming home."

Nick had nodded and questioned her no further.

There was still much to do, and for the most part Molly was glad to feel like she was getting somewhere. Returning to Homeplate would be a moment's reprieve as she stepped closer to reaching Shaun.

They reached Diamond City at dusk. Molly grabbed some noodles from Takahashi before the store closed for the evening. She stepped through the door of Homeplate, her stomach churned before a spike of adrenaline hit as she crossed the threshold. Inside, the smell of gun oil and powder permeated the air, setting her instantly at ease.

She set her pack down. "MacCready?" she asked with an optimistic tone.

There was no answer.

"Where do you want these, General?" Nick asked as he lifted the pack from his back and took Molly's from her feet.

She pointed to workshop area, placed her Noodles on the bar, and looked around. Little had changed here in the main living section. She noticed a sleeping bag in the corner, around it, several scattered comic books taken from the magazine rack and several packs of cigarettes. He hadn't taken the option of sleeping in th- her bed then. A pang of disappointment hit her. Did he want to take the 'professional relationship' to the level that he even refused to sleep in her bed even without her? Her shoulders slumped as she followed Nick into the workshop.

"Wow," she stared incredulously around the now crowded and very functional workshop.

"Kid's been busy it seems." Nick opened one of the cupboards where steel baskets sat with small screws and other weapon insides. There were even labels in a crude but legible hand.

"Very busy. I'm impressed. I wonder if he's gone back to the boathouse?" For the second time in as many days she felt her heart shrink. In the week they'd been away MacCready had managed to cobble together several work stations, several shelves and had even found some extensive weapons racks. Everything was neat tidy and exceptionally well organised. He must have spent all the caps she had left for him, maybe even some of his own.

She stepped around the corner to find a desk and two chairs, several filing cabinets and another small couch. Upstairs in the loft bedroom nothing had changed, the bed remained as she had left it. However, on the landing above there was a bookcase, a comfortable chair and side table with a lamp. There was also a decorative stand-alone ashtray. Several comic books lay on the shelves and the ashtray overflowed. She guessed he'd been spending most of his spare time reading and smoking. And by the looks of the empty ale bottles, drinking too.

Molly went back downstairs. "I'll give you a hand in a minute, Nick. I just want to eat these noodles before they get cold."

"Don't rush, I can do most of it," he replied.

Molly sat at the bar and ate, listening to Nick shift all her junk and extra weapons into various places. She finished and joined Nick in the workshop. "Everything in order?"

"Yeah, it is now. Didn't think MacCready would be so neat." He pointed to a trashcan on the floor. "He's even thought about the rubbish."

Molly laughed, he wasn't the tidiest of men. "Well, that's something. Surprising."

"General, If you want I can fetch you some water from the pump."

"You don't have to do that, Nick. I can fetch my own water."

"No problems. You're likely tired. Been a big week and all. Plus I think once I do that I'll leave for the evening and go see Ellie. I've got a few things to sort out. I might not return until morning if that's okay?"

"Yeah no problem, Nick."

"And maybe, if MacCready's around, he can keep you company."

Molly lowered her head and looked up at Nick with a sad grin. "We'll see. He may not even be here."

She wandered over to the sideboard and dining table to see that the two teapots she'd collected on her way from the boathouse had been moved to the side. She picked up one and turned the teapot over in her hand. It was blue and the glaze on the outside still shone and for a pre-war relic, pristine. Unlike herself, who ached in so many places and was scraped and bruised and just plain tired. The other teapot was metal and rusted, much more like her, she didn't think that even a bit of polish and elbow grease could remove all of the pots faults. Yet is was here, and it still held water. That was something at least.

Nick had returned with two pails of water. "Where do you want them, General?"

"One down here, one upstairs please."

He carried them with far less effort than she could have, even just thinking about it had made her arms feel a sudden ache.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Nick," she called after him as he placed one of the buckets in the loft bedroom.

"Quite a bit I imagine. Consider me your friendly synthetic packhorse. Who knows a few things about birds," he shouted down.

"You're much more than that, Nick. And you know it."

"I am, aren't I?" He came down the stairs and smoothed his coat. "Anyway, if you don't need the synth packhorse for anything else, I shall head out." He didn't wait for a reply, merely tipped his hat and headed out the door.

Molly dragged herself upstairs and set her pip boy on the table next to her bed. She stripped naked. It would be yet another day to catalogue the bruises and scratches, to wipe away the dirt within crevices of her skin and the creases that graced her palms and another opportunity to be upset at her rapidly dwindling weight. Molly liked her curves, she liked the way her hips swung and her breast bounced, all that was disappearing, like everything else from her past life. Expending more energy than you consumed seemed par for the course.

She took her time, sitting on a small stool, the water refreshing in a way that only cold water could be. She examined the remnant of the large bruise on her thigh; it had finally disappeared into shadow. However, now there were several new ones to take its place, thanks to that Glowing One in the Med-Tek building over a week ago, plus some general skirmishes from her trip to the Glowing sea. She had time to reflect and gather her thoughts, about Shaun, about MacCready. It felt like a moment of peace, to be alone here in a place that she might one day call her home.

She dressed in a pale blue laundered cotton robe, another find from the road from weeks ago and padded down to the living area in her bare feet. She turned the radio on, Travis' confident tone oozing across the waves. She knelt behind the bar to see if MacCready had stocked it with anything. There were a dozen or so bottles with what looked to be mostly hard liquor, a few bottles of ale and a stash of potato chips.

"Good boy, MacCready. Now let's see what you got." She stuck her head in between the shelves and pulled out a bottle. She looked at the label, turned her nose up and placed it back before pulling out another. She turned her nose up again. She pulled out a third and a fourth only to see they had labels so crumbled you couldn't even see what they were. "Oh MacCready, what is this rubbish? And what were you thinking?"

"I don't know what I was thinking then, but I know what I'm thinking now."

Molly startled at MacCready's untimely entry bumping the back of her head on the shelf in response. She rubbed her head and looked behind her to see him standing there with a grin on his face. Laugh lines folded at the corner of her eyes and mouth and she felt a heat in her chest that slowly radiated upwards to her neck and face.

"Welcome home, General." His tone was playful and light. He rubbed his hand on his chin.

She didn't greet him, instead simply handed him a bottle. "What's this?"

He looked at the label then pulled the lid. "Smells like bourbon to me, though I can't read the label."

"Whatever it is I think I might give it a miss if you don't mind."

"Your gut, your rules, General." He gave a good-natured chuckle and remained standing behind her.

Molly was conscious that he was likely ogling her behind. She wiggled her hips on purpose as she dug her head back into the shelving and pulled out another bottle - one with a readable label. "Finally!" She stood and placed it on the bar. "Something that looks drinkable."

"Oh ahhh. Yeah the Old Appalachia. The old faithful. Quality blend there, General." MacCready's posture stiffened and he gave her a tight-lipped smile.

Molly frowned, recognising a change in tone from him. "Wait." She pointed to the bottle. "You weren't saving this were you, MacCready? For something special? I can-"

"Um-" His hand went to his brow and he rubbed his top lip. "General, before you- before you have a drink, or get drunk, or whatever it is that you plan to do, I think we need to talk." He moved his hand to his jacket pocket and began to toy with something deep inside.

Molly fingered the collar of the robe and bit her lip hard enough the familiar metallic taste of blood hit her tongue. She looked into his eyes that were the colour of the sky, sure that there was a measure of nervousness in them. She took a stilted breath. "What is it, MacCready?"