The crackling flames and soothing sound of a pen scribbling on paper seem to be the only sounds in the Wasteland as MacCready and Willow unwind for the night by the warmth of a fire. MacCready stares pensively into the flames, his lips upturned in a small smile. He looks content, hopeful. There is a glow in his eyes – even aside from the one which the fire casts upon them.

Willow notices this as she occasionally glances up from the picture she draws in her journal. He doesn't notice her looking up at him – he's too consumed by his own thoughts, lost inside of his head. To Willow, he looks much less like the cold, stand-offish mercenary she had met in the Third Rail and more like... well... MacCready. He is a much softer, much warmer man than she'd ever imagined he could be. He is an invaluable companion, a seemingly good father and probably once a doting husband. She wonders to herself as she doodles how she appears in his mind – especially now since his comments and actions seem to have shifted to be a little more flirtatious than before. Maybe, she thinks, Maggie is right. Maybe he is moving on; and maybe he has chosen her to do that with.

Fuck, why? Why does he have to leave? Or, better, why didn't she just send him away outside of that lab and save herself the heartache that was coming? It would have made so much more sense to just rip off the bandaid. Yet she can't. She instead greedily welcomes the extra time they now get to spend together. She'll miss it when he's gone, she knows this. So for now, she is going to enjoy it and deal with the consequences later.

She tilts her head when he begins humming, and then chuckles and groans to himself. "I still have that stupid Pistol Packin' Mama song stuck in my head." he laments. Willow titters and goes back to her journal.

"Sing another song." she suggests as she sketches. "It'll help you get that one out."

"Like what?" he asks. Suddenly, it is like no other songs exist or ever have existed as Bing Crosby and the Andrews Sisters take up every last square inch of his musical memory.

Willow narrows her eyes and stares upward, tapping her pen against her chin as she thinks. Then, she grins and shakes the stationary at him. "Whyyyy does the sun go on shining?" she sings, and MacCready frowns but she continues, "Whyyyyy does the sea rush to shore?"

Her smile broadens and she leans back, then her voice raises and she obnoxiously belts, "Doooon't they know it's the eeeend of the wooooorld?! Cause yooooou don't love me anymore!"

MacCready's head falls backward and he groans again as if he isn't enjoying Willow's showmanship. "Please, no. Not that song."

"What?!" Willow gasps and clutches her chest in offence. "What's wrong with that song?"

"I can't stand it." MacCready shakes his head. "It's so boring!"

"You're wrong." Willow frowns. "It's a good song. The best one on that stupid station."

"... No." MacCready says simply and smirks as he leans back onto his hands. "You have a terrible taste in music."

And a terrible taste in men – she almost jokes, but she doesn't. She's afraid to flirt so blatantly lest he reject her again; though at this point, maybe it would be a good thing. Maybe it would help her let go of him.

Instead, though, she chuffs and once more goes back to her drawing. "Shut up." she murmurs. "Did that RadAway help you any?"

"Yeah. Feel a lot better now." he says. He'd been feeling ill since his close encounter with the glowing one, but Willow had given him some RadAway she'd lifted from the house they'd stayed at. She had told him it was so she didn't have to listen to his whining, but they both knew it was out of genuine care. He lifts his gaze and watches her across the fire, and admires the way the flames dance across her focused face and how her short bangs dust gently across her forehead. He catches her looking up at him so he narrows his eyes and grins. "What are you even drawing over there?"

"Nothing." Willow answers suspiciously quickly, and MacCready leans forward.

"Oh, really? You're just... scribbling aimlessly? Like a little kid?"

Willow's brow flattens and she glares at him. "Maybe I am. What's it to you?"

MacCready is getting to his feet then, though he remains crouched. "Aw, come on. You're lying to me." he teases. Willow quickly slams her journal shut and puffs her cheeks out at him as he extends his hand expectantly. "Let me see."

"Bite me!" she barks, then suddenly, MacCready lunges at her and playfully wrestles her to the dirt. Willow can't help but laugh as she fights back and manages to keep the journal from his grip. He isn't trying very hard – in fact, it was really all merely a ruse to bridge the space between himself and Willow. She had been a bit colder with him since he'd rejected her advances the night before; understandably so, of course, but after a lot of thinking, he has decided that he would like to see where things could go with Willow. She's just so uniquely wonderful, and after what she had done today to help him get his hands on Duncan's cure, he has no doubt in his mind that Lucy would approve of his decision.

Willow manages to flip them so she is on top of MacCready. She straddles his waist and holds the journal up and out of his reach, and he smiles up at her as he props himself up on his elbows. "Fine," he says, "Keep your secrets."

"I will." she snorts, then gently thwaps his head with the journal. His face scrunches and he chuckles lowly, and neither make an effort to move until MacCready pushes himself to sit more upright so Willow is in his lap instead.

A tiny, involuntary gasp escapes her lips as once again their faces are inches from each other's. There is nothing she wants more than to close the gap, to press her lips to his. She wants to feel his textured, freshly-shaven face in her hand as she caresses his cheek, she wants to feel his body pressed against hers and his bony fingers in her hair. But she's afraid. She is afraid, and MacCready spends too much time just enjoying the moment and so Willow ends it before he has a chance to make the next move. She lifts his hat from his head and places it on her own, then dismounts him and sits back on the ground as she brushes some hair from her shoulder and opens her journal again.

MacCready bites his lip and lifts his knees, resting his arms around them comfortably. He regards her for a moment, before he draws in a breath. "I, uh... I've been thinking." he begins softly, and Willow scoffs.

"I doubt it." she quips.

"Very funny." he replies sarcastically with a deadpan smirk, but then his face adopts a more serious expression. "Look, Willow. This little partnership we've got going on," he says and Willow's pen stills on the paper though she doesn't look up, "I never want it to end. So, well... What if you... came back to DC with me?"

Willow's eyes widen and her grip tightens around her pen. She can feel her heart beating in her throat. She glances briefly up at him, looking completely unsure how to react but the pink tinge on her cheeks says enough for MacCready who smiles fondly and blows air from his nose.

"You could come live with me at my place." he suggests and looks back to the fire tiredly as he imagines a future with Willow in it. "And I know Duncan will love you. He's a good kid. He likes good people. And, you know... You're good people."

Still, Willow doesn't reply. She lets her eyes unfocus as she, too, envisions what her life could be like at MacCready's side. It is a future which feels warm, secure. One filled with laughter and fun and many nights just like this one. But...

After Quincy, there will still remain one final name on Maggie's list. And she can't just abandon her after making it this far already. She owes it to Maggie to see this through to the very end – she made her a promise. She swallows as her stomach churns with uncertainty, and MacCready's eyes flick to her in response to her silence.

He sighs. "Look, you don't have to answer now." he says. He understands that she may not want to leave her home behind and come somewhere so far away where she will be truly out of her element. But he has to try anyway, because damn, it would make him happy to roll over every day and see her laying beside him. "Just... think about it. Alright?"

Willow nods and stares thoughtfully back to her journal. "I... okay." she utters weakly. Her response is good enough for MacCready, who sighs again and falls back onto his back. He folds his hands behind his head and gazes pensively up at the stars, which glimmer through holes in the thick clouds above them. Once again a silence falls over the duo like a blanket, and Willow tries to focus on her artwork but now, she has to make a decision. She has to decide how important that promise is to her, and if she wants to continue living for Maggie, or if she wants to instead try living for Willow.

MacCready begins humming lowly again as his eyes fall shut, only this time, he hums The End of the World, and Willow regrets ever putting the song into his head.