"MacCready..."

Willow's voice is hoarse; weak, as she attempts to call out to her companion. Every raspy breath feels like fire beneath her ribs, and her eyes roll as the room continues to spin around her. She doesn't want to let her leaden eyelids fall shut, though tempting as it may be, as she fears that she won't open them again.

An unfamiliar chill courses through her, yet her paling skin is dotted with beads of sweat. She swallows and fights through the pain to draw in a deeper breath. "MacCready!" Her back arches slightly as she cries out, and the desperate wail ends in a strangled sob.

He isn't coming. She's doing this alone.

The tears which fall from her eyes only make her feel more tired. Her head falls languidly to the side, and she whimpers much more softly, "Maggie...?"

"I'm here."

The little girl appears beside her, her legs crossed and her chin in her hand. She looks almost bored as she watches the woman bleeding out before her.

Willow's hand moves an inch closer to her, but it is all she can manage. Maggie makes no effort to reach out, though her eyes do flick briefly down at the action. Willow's chest heaves as she regards the child with terror. "I don't want to die." she blubbers. "I-I'm not ready. I don't want to go. Please..."

Maggie is silent and still. She tilts her head slightly, but her gaze remains apathetic.

"I don't want to— I don't want to go. M-Maggie..." Willow begs, and she squeezes her eyes closed to catch her falling tears because she doesn't have the strength to do so with her hand. "I'm... I feel like..." her voice falls to a whisper, and she forces her eyes open again to lock eyes with Maggie. "I feel like I failed you."

At this, the faintest hint of a smile dances across Maggie's lips. "You did." she says frigidly. "If you die here today, you have failed me."

"Please..." Willow's hand moves another inch closer. And once more, Maggie glances to it but otherwise disregards the gesture. "I'm sorry."

The child doesn't reply, and all Willow can do now is look at her. She is so beautiful, so serene. She is cunning, smart, and brimming with potential. Her future could have been so bright had it not been senselessly taken from her. She can't even fault the girl for being so cruel – especially towards her. Life had not been kind to Maggie. Willow had not been kind to Maggie, and it is evident now that there is no longer anything she can do to atone for her past.

By the time the chapel doors open to reveal two more Gunners who'd heard her cries, Willow's eyes have unfocused and her hand has stilled where it rests in a deep red puddle of her own blood.

MacCready, meanwhile, has taken up residence in a second-story window where he snipes men and women alike out of an adjacent building. He has yet to see any bald person with head tattoos, and he'd lost Willow a while ago. He can only hope she is okay, though he'd heard the high-pitched whistle of a rocket nearby some time ago and since then he's been desperately trying to do away with those who could kill him so he can venture out to find her.

Well... Willow will be fine – she still has a Stimpak left, right? MacCready's eyes narrow and his jaw clenches as he distractedly blows a chunk of wood from the windowsill across from him and then grunts in frustration. Shoot, he thinks, no she doesn't. She'd used it on herself when her arm had been injured. And he didn't have his other one, either – he'd just had to use it to mend a smouldering lazer hole that had found its' way directly through his chest.

He moves back out of range and leans against the wall beside the window as he reloads his gun, and he moves with haste as his concern for Willow's wellbeing mounts and mounts and mounts. She's alright, of course. At least, he tells himself this then benches the thought so he can instead pour his focus into killing the last two Gunners inside the building across the street.

Deep breath. Hold. Fire. Wait. Deep breath. Hold. Fire.

When the threat across the road has at last been eradicated, MacCready clutches his gun and hurries back down the stairs and then steps out onto the street. He stays close to buildings and cars to avoid being detected by any remaining snipers but thankfully there don't really seem to be many enemies left lurking about. He does spot the man with the rocket launcher pacing warily atop a building, and so before he has the chance to notice him, he snipes him and watches as he rolls down the slanted rooftop. His corpse falls from the building, but his weapon comes skidding to a halt a few inches from the ledge, and MacCready carries on through the streets as he searches for any sign of Willow.

When he spots two Gunners pushing cautiously into the church, he gasps and ducks behind a car and observes them. They seem to pause in the doorway and exchange a few words before they wander apprehensively inside. Suddenly, MacCready's legs are moving and he hasn't even the time to register why he is sprinting toward this surprisingly well-kept old chapel. He slows as he reaches the door and holds his breath, then creeps inside and puts a bullet in one of the Gunners' backs before he even has time to react. The other turns, but MacCready very swiftly fells him too.

When his eyes adjust to the lighting in the room and he spots her, his heart stops. Willow is pale, unmoving and listless as she lays in a puddle of what is quite obviously her own blood.

"No..." he shakes his head, his breath catching in his throat. He crosses the room in record time and leaps over a corpse to drop roughly onto his knees beside her. "No, no, no... Willow?!"

He reaches a trembling hand out to quickly feel for her pulse, but her eyelids push halfway-open before he can touch her and he gasps softly. "Hey, hey. You're alright. You're alright, okay?" he says to her, though perhaps he is really trying to convince himself that she will be fine. He is unsure if she's even hearing him anyway as she seems to stare right past him – but at least her eyes are open. Regardless of whether or not she is cognizant of what he is saying, he still grabs her hand and squeezes, then quickly gets to work searching her over. Maybe she had picked up another Stimpak along the way? He rips through her pockets, then pulls her jacket open to expose her mangled flesh and try the hidden pockets within her coat.

No luck. "Come on..." he sounds desperate, and his eyes are glassy as he almost slips in the blood on the floor on his way to the headless body beside her. He searches it frantically and finds nothing, and he swallows the lump in his throat as he turns to look over his shoulder at Willow. Her eyes have followed him, yet he frowns. "Just... stay with me, okay? I can't..." his voice wavers and he grits his teeth. He can't lose her, too.

Willow watches in a daze as MacCready scurries over to check the men he'd killed when he'd come inside. And as he fails again and again to conjur up a Stimpak, Willow can feel herself slipping. It's cold. It's so cold, and all she longs for now is MacCready's warmth. She wishes silently for him to give up his search and pull her into his arms and just hold her so she doesn't have to be alone; but she can't verbalize any of this. She can't even move or keep her eyes open anymore. All she feels she can do now is succumb to the darkness.

Thank you. She tries to project the words into MacCready's head as her lashes brush against her upper cheeks and her lips part. For everything.

She doesn't hear when MacCready violently rips a first aid kit from the wall, and she doesn't feel it when he peels her blood-soaked shirt up and off her skin. What she does feel is a soothing warmth which spreads from her chest throughout her body, and when she draws in a deep gasp for air, MacCready sighs audibly with relief and immediately pulls her into his arms.

It takes her a minute to get her bearings, but she realizes quickly that MacCready had managed to find a Stimpak. He had managed to save her, and now, she is pressed against his chest and listening to his heartbeat as it begins to slow and the fear of losing Willow subsides. Finally, she finds her strength, and she pulls herself into MacCready's lap which forces him onto his backside. She throws her own arms around his neck and buries her face into his shoulder as heavy tears push out from her eyes, and MacCready is perfectly content to just hold her in that moment.

"You..." she croaks, the taste of blood still heavy in her mouth, "You came back."

"Of course I did." MacCready murmurs, and his long fingers lace into her hair as his grip on her tightens.

He embraces her for a while longer, then looks around the room. At the back of the building is the raised floor of what used to be an altar, and from where they sit, MacCready spots an empty bed tucked back behind a short bookcase so he scoops Willow up and carries her to it. When he reaches the bed, he gingerly sets her down and Willow sits on the edge of the mattress.

"Can you..." she croaks, still feeling incredibly weak, then lifts her arm straight out to point a finger toward the lower-half of the room. "... My bag?"

MacCready nods quickly. "Yeah, yeah." he says and hurries across to retrieve her belongings. When he sets the bag beside her on the bed, Willow digs through it and retrieves a fresh shirt – one which isn't absolutely drenched in blood and filled with holes like the one she wears now. She shamelessly changes it out in front of MacCready, though the mercenary does avert his gaze out of respect for her. She chuckles pathetically and tosses her ruined shirt haphazardly to the floor, then slumps a bit where she sits.

"Good thing I put my hair up." she tuts. Had she not have, it would be absolutely matted with blood. Thankfully, though, only some loose ends are crusty and tangled – a much more manageable mess. MacCready amusedly blows air from his nose and moves to sit beside her, and though the bed is quite big he picks the spot directly next to her, where his leg rests up against hers and her arm almost falls into his lap.

"Willow, I..." he shakes his head, then lifts his hat to run his hand through his hair in an act of self-soothing, "I thought you were a dead, I..."

His voice trails off when he feels Willow's head rest against his shoulder, and he inhales softly. Slowly, he turns and lets his cheek fall gently against the top of her head.

"I thought I was, too." Willow swallows. In this moment, MacCready's touch is like a painkiller and though she still aches where the bullets had ripped through her, she almost doesn't notice as she instead focuses on the warmth of his body against hers. She closes her eyes and bites her lip, then whispers, "You saved me."

MacCready pauses thoughtfully, then smiles and shakes his head. He slips his arm around the woman, and his hand curls comfortably around her waist. "No." he says. "You saved me." His fingers dig gently into her side, "And you saved Duncan. You're—"

"Oh, shit!" Willow straightens suddenly and leans forward as she prepares to stand, "We gotta go! We gotta get to Goodneighbour!"

As she begins to pull herself to her feet, MacCready grabs her arm and it doesn't take much effort to pull her back down. "Woah, easy there, killer." he scolds her. "You need to rest before we go anywhere. Sit down." Reluctantly, Willow does as she's told and sits back down on the bed, and she furrows her brow in concern. MacCready offers her a warm smile; one surprisingly devoid of arrogance for once. "Don't worry. If we leave first thing tomorrow morning, we should make it there in time. Daisy's caravans don't usually leave until the evening, so I think we'll be alright."

At his words, Willow relaxes again. She is thankful, honestly, because she's tired and nauseous and cold and spending the night here pressed against MacCready's side sounds divine. Especially since it will be their last night together, though Willow tries to forget this and just focus on the fact that they're together at all. They're here together, and Quincy is quiet, and Neil is dead and she can see hints of a beautiful sunset through a hole at the top of a boarded up window. Everything is okay. Everything will be okay.

She swallows as her eyes flit lazily about the church. "I got Neil." she announces. "Did we get the rest of them?" She once again falls against MacCready's side, and he chuckles.

"I think so." he says, but his eyes do trail up to a set of steps which lead up to the bell tower atop the church where he may have a decent vantage point. "I'll head up and see if I can't find anyone else lurking around." Reluctantly, he peels himself from Willow's side, and she doesn't protest as she watches him take the binoculars from her bag and head up the stairs.

When MacCready returns ten minutes later, he finds Willow laying on her side on the bed. She has pushed herself back against a makeshift wall, and her eyes open languidly when she hears the creak of his boots on the wood floor again. "Coast is clear." he says with confidence and a grin, and Willow chuckles lowly.

"I told you we could do it." she mumbles.

"You know, I don't think that's how that conversation went." MacCready drops the binoculars back into Willow's bag and places his hands on his hips as he looks smugly down at her. "I'm prettysure you were crapping your pants out there, and I had to be the one who convinced you everything was gonna be okay."

Willow rolls her eyes and laughs. "Yeah, and look how that went." she scoffs. "I almost died."

"But you didn't, did you?" MacCready raises an eyebrow and bends slightly at the waist. Willow laughs again, but her face contorts into a pained grimace and she groans.

At this, MacCready's smile falters, and he drops his arms. "You alright?" he asks.

Willow nods and curls slightly in on herself. "I'm okay." she assures him.

"I can go see if I can find you some Med-X or something." MacCready suggests, but Willow quickly props herself up onto her elbow and shakes her head.

"No!" she blurts, then chews her lip and carefully lowers herself to the mattress again. "Just... stay with me." She looks away almost shyly, and then softly asks, "Please."

MacCready pauses and watches the way her ears redden at the request. Then, a small grin spreads across his face, and Willow is delighted when she feels the bed dip beside her as he settles onto the mattress. He lays on his side and faces her with his hand supporting his head, and as they lock eyes, Willow's pain seems to fade away into the blue of his gaze.

After a moment, Willow carefully shimmies forward to close the gap between their bodies, and she places her hand on his chest but then stops and looks up at him once more.

"Is..." she begins, her fingers curling into him, "Is this... Okay?"

"You kiddin' me?" MacCready chuckles, but then his gaze softens considerably, "No, I... I like being close."

The red of her ears grows deeper, and MacCready smiles and gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind one. Then, smoothly, he trails his fingers tenderly down her neck and over her shoulder, then stops at her waist and pulls her closer. A soft breath escapes Willow but she melts into his touch, and when his arm settles over her, she drapes her own arm around him and pushes her head against his chest.

MacCready's chin rests atop Willow's head, and for a long time, neither say anything. Goosebumps rise on Willow's back where the mercenary traces faint shapes with his nails, and Willow grips the fabric on the back of his duster. The sound of his soft breaths and beating heart resonate through her bones, and she closes her eyes and reflects on their time together. Perhaps things have been occasionally tumultuous, but never before has Willow felt the sun shine so warmly or seen the stars twinkle so bright. For so long, it has just been Willow and the ghost of her past and the dull throb of anger and despair she shares with the lost child. But her time with MacCready has instilled in her a newfound appreciation for the world, and for the little moments such as this one which seem to breathe life back into the tired shell of a woman Willow often feels she has become.

She smiles to herself and can't believe it when she feels actually excited to see Sadie and Edwin again and tell them all about her time with that wonderful, charming, handsome mercenary they had suggested. She only wishes MacCready could be there at her side as she regales their adventures – but when she feels a pit growing in her stomach she lets the thought fall from her mind and once more focuses on the moment.

"Hey..." she whispers when she notices MacCready's hand has stilled and his breathing has slowed.

"Mmm?" he replies sleepily, and Willow smiles as she cranes her neck to look up at him. Remaining in his hold, she shimmies up and settles with her face level to his. He blinks slowly as he admires her and matches her contented expression, and as he slowly reawakens, his embrace tightens once more.

"I just wanted to say..." she begins softly and moves to push some of MacCready's hair back which has fallen into his face. She is surprised by how soft it is, and by how warm his angular face feels in her hand. Her smile broadens, and she shakes her head. "Um..." suddenly, she feels kind of awkward, and when she blushes again, MacCready snickers.

"You wanted to say 'um'?" he teases her tiredly. "Well, okay. Good talk."

Willow laughs. "Why do I even bother?" she groans, then settles again as she continues to play with his hair. "No, I wanted to say... Thanks." she huffs. "For everything."

MacCready's eyelids fall again, and the smile on his face softens. "I feel like I should be the one thanking you." he chuckles. "Feels like for the first time in my life, everything is going right. I haven't been this happy in a long time."

"Me neither." Willow replies. She nuzzles into him again and lets her own eyes shut, yet her heart continues to flutter with a peaceful joy which courses through her body and numbs her pain. She could get used to this feeling; she wishes she could feel this way forever.