Willow's heart is pounding so fiercely that it feels as though it is about to burst in her chest. Her stomach feels like a stormy sea, and pins and needles radiate from her core all the way through her body and fall from her fingertips and the bottoms of her feet.
It is as though she is on autopilot as she strides down the road. It doesn't matter how fast she moves, though. It never has. Because no matter what she does, she can feel the shadows of her past snapping at her heels hungrily, begging her to succumb to them. Her time with MacCready had thus far felt like a welcome intermission from the chase, but Willow now sees that she cannot run forever. No matter what she does or who she does it with, history will always hunt her down. Forever.
And she feels truly hopeless.
MacCready follows silently and dutifully behind Willow. She appears alert but he can tell she is distracted, so he keeps an eye out for the both of them whilst also watching her attentively. He doesn't ask, doesn't pry; he has learned by now that never ends well.
Willow's foot catches on a deep crack in the road, and she reflexively puts her arms out as she stumbles to the ground. She makes no effort to stop herself from falling, though – she simply lets herself land on her hands and knees, and she hangs her head in shame as she struggles to catch her breath.
Normally, MacCready would be quick to rib her for tripping. But this time, he knows that is the last thing Willow needs, and so instead he steps to her side and kneals beside her.
"Hey..." he says, leaning forward to meet her gaze from around her hair. "Are you okay?"
Willow's lip quivers, and tears fall silently from her eyes and onto the pavement beneath her. No. She is not okay. Her lungs feel like they are being squeezed by her ribcage, her heart feels as though it has been hooked up to a high-voltage generator, and the darkness in her mind threatens to consume her completely.
She tenses when suddenly MacCready reaches out to her. He runs his hand along her upper back soothingly, and periodically lifts his head to scan for threats as they sit, uncomfortably exposed, in the middle of the road. When he spots an old bus stop shelter, he figures maybe it would be best if they moved there while Willow got ahold of herself, and so he nudges her lightly.
"Hey, come on. Let's go over there." he says and points to the shelter, and Willow's eyes flick briefly toward it as he stands and very gently pulls her to her feet.
Like a zombie, she moves to the bus stop and then collapses onto the bench inside, and MacCready sits beside her. He watches her for a moment, and their knees touch as they sit side-by-side, but eventually he turns his head and they both stare straight out in front of them in silence and listen to the frigid breeze as it rolls through the streets.
Finally, Willow's breathing slows and so too does her heartbeat, but the rotten feeling in her stomach remains. The world around her comes into focus, and when she notices her leg pressed against MacCready's, she quickly pulls it away and turns slightly. It pains her to do so, because all she craves is his touch. But why should she get her own hopes up when he has already shown her he's not interested?
MacCready, of course, notices this. But he says nothing and instead sighs through his nose. His leg bounces restlessly where they sit.
After some time, Willow breaks the silence. "You... Want to know about my list?" She speaks so lowly that MacCready almost doesn't hear her over the wind on the glass around them.
But he does, and so he looks to her but she does not do the same. He takes a moment, trying to decide exactly how to respond, but then he settles with a simple, "Yeah. I do."
Willow can feel MacCready's eyes on her, but his gaze doesn't feel unwelcome though she almost wished it did. She leans forward and rests her arms on her knees, then takes a deep breath.
"When I lived in Diamond City, I..." her eyes narrow, and she pauses a moment as she chooses her words carefully. "I had this friend. Maggie."
Maggie. The name sounds familiar.
"Oh!" It dawns on him. "The girl from the poster?"
Willow nods. "Yeah. Her." she replies, "Me and her, we were inseparable since day one. We knew every God damn thing about each other. She was my best friend and my worst enemy and the only person I felt like I ever had to look out for me.
"And y'see, Maggie's parents, they were rich. Really well off. Lived in the upper stands, in a nice little house with reinforced walls and a spare room – that kind of shit. Nobody in town really knew how they came into that money – but they were so "lovely" and "kind" to people that no one ever questioned it. Most people just kind of assumed it was old money." Her lip curls and her tone is particularly acrimonious. She feels her heart begin to thump again, only this time instead of sadness, it is a dull anger which burns inside of her. MacCready's brow creases as she holds his full attention, and he can see she is fighting to hold herself together but she carries on anyway.
"But it wasn't old money." she shakes her head frantically. "No. Maggie's parents had a fun little secret business. Cause you see, Maggie, she was beautiful. And they fucking knew that, Mac, and they exploited that poor little girl for fucking years."
As her voice raises and tears prick at her eyes, MacCready leans forward and regards her with uncertainty. "What... What do you mean?" he whispers, almost afraid to hear the answer.
"I mean they sold her body." Willow says bluntly and locks eyes with MacCready, who understandably pales. "I don't know how much they charged but there were many, many nights where strange, older men would go to visit Maggie and make her do terrible things. They'd fucking touch her all over, no matter how many times she resisted or said no. They made her sit on their laps, fucking – put their cigarettes out on her skin, pumped her full of drugs so she'd stop fighting. Well, no. Actually," she scoffs bitterly, "No, some of them liked the fight she'd put up when they had their way with her—"
"Alright, stop!" MacCready stands suddenly and turns away from Willow, hands at the side of his head. He feels like he is going to be sick. The fact that anyone could do that to a child is enough to make him nauseous. He swallows thickly and lets his hands fall to his hips as he stares pensively through the glass, and Willow watches him a moment before she looks away.
"I know. It's... fucking awful, isn't it?" she whispers, and MacCready nods, then turns back around to face her and leans back against the glass.
"I don't..." he shakes his head and rubs his eye with his thumb, then crosses his arms. "I don't even know what to say. I feel sick."
Willow offers him a weak and fleeting smile. "That's because you're one of the good ones, Mac." she murmurs, then clears her throat. "I... I was, um... I was one of the last people to ever see Maggie alive." she adds, and her grip around her knees tightens as her lips pull into a frown. "And I failed her. You know that? I failed her. But... There was just nothing anyone could do for her."
MacCready's shoulders fall. "So... I... What? Your list is—"
"All of the lowlife scum who ever laid a finger on Maggie." Willow states, and once again swallows the lump in her throat but her hands are shaking and she knows she's on the verge of tears so she speaks as carefully as possible. "She trusted me with this list. It was one of the last things she ever made before she..."
Her voice trails off, but she doesn't have to finish the sentence because MacCready easily fills in the blanks. Willow takes a few moments to regulate her breathing and fight back the bile which rises in her throat, and then she speaks with soft resolve.
"I don't think any child should ever have to suffer like Maggie did." she says, "I will avenge her. And I will do whatever I can to help you find that cure for your boy, because it's fucking bullshit that he has to be sick like that when he should just be... enjoying being a kid. And then, after that... I don't know – I want to... I want to help more kids. Somehow, I don't know, I... I haven't figured out howyet, but..." She rambles, her tongue travelling too fast for her to catch it but she does stop when suddenly, MacCready is kneeling in front of her, his face level with hers. And when his hand comes up to caress her arm, she doesn't flinch away.
"You can't blame yourself for what happened to Maggie, Willow. You were just a kid, too, right?" MacCready asks and Willow nods. MacCready's grip on her arm tightens and he holds her gaze with reverence. "Sounds like both of you had to grow up really fast. Trust me – I get that probably better than a lot of people around here. But don't ever feel like you failed her. You were probably just as scared as she was back then. Right?"
Willow nods tearfully once more.
"Yeah, I thought so." MacCready says. "I know it probably feels too little too late, but what you're doing for her now... That takes balls, you know?" he smirks, and his thumb traces circles along her arm. "As far as I'm concerned... Maggie's lucky to have a friend like you."
Those are the words that do her in, and she finally lets out a soft sob. She quickly attempts to stop herself from crying more, but the tears and snot and sniffles just keep coming and her shoulders shake. Yet, through the tears, she laughs and smiles and shakes her head.
"And I'm lucky to have a friend like you." She imagines she sounds so pathetic as she blubbers on at this poor mercenary, but he chuckles and the sound soothes her a little.
"Ah, come on. You're gonna get snot all over yourself." he teases her flatly and is thrilled to see her laugh once more through her tears.
"Why are you such an asshole?" she whines and sniffles. "I'm serious. You have a way of making everything better always."
MacCready smiles fondly, "Yeah, well..." he tucks his chin and looks away, hiding his eyes with the brim of his hat. "I've never really had a partner... or friend... like you." He chuckles. "I couldn't ask for anyone better to watch my back."
The words are so genuine that they wrap around Willow's brain like a warm hug and linger there. Her heaves become lesser and lesser, until finally she quiets and runs her sleeve against her eyes to collect the tears that remain.
"Really?" she asks after a moment, and MacCready smirks.
"Yeah, really." he says and shakes his head. "I could do this forever, you know. You and me."
Willow's eyes widen. Me too, she thinks to herself, but she stops the words before they can tumble from her lips because she knows they are useless. By nightfall, they will either be dead in the old hospital or walking away with the cure and MacCready will be gone, back to his son where he belongs. Life is cruel like that – yet Willow knows that she is making the right decision no matter how much it hurts.
She stands then and playfully pushes MacCready's hat over his eyes. He, too, rises to his feet and fixes his hat, pursing his lips at her in a playful smile as he does so. "I'm sorry I wasted so much time." Willow says.
"Don't be." MacCready shakes his head. "Feel better?"
"Yeah. I feel a lot better."
"Then I guess it wasn't a waste of time, now was it?"
MacCready raises his eyebrows knowingly and turns, and his smugness leaves Willow weakly giggling to herself as she watches him step out of the bus shelter. "Come on, we aren't that far away anyway." he says over his shoulder, and Willow hurries from the bus stop.
She does feel better after getting all of that off her chest. MacCready is a good listener, which is almost shocking to Willow; and hearing him affirm her goals feels rather comforting. But it is a bittersweet feeling, knowing that MacCready seems to enjoy her temporary companionship just as much as she does his. Especially because when she falls into step at her temporary place by his side, she can't help but to feel that it is exactly where she belongs.