Chapter Text
“Son of a...” MacCready muttered under his breath, the last word catching in his throat, refusing to be said out loud. He had just passed through Gunner territory with no issues, and that could only mean one thing. They knew exactly where he was. He sighed, adjusted the strap of the rifle across his chest, and picked up the pace. Goodneighbor was close, and the neighborhood watch would at least slow down whoever the Gunners sent after him. Might as well grab a drink while he figured out his next move.
He slunk through the town's entrance, and down the street towards the Third Rail. The weather was just starting to turn from pleasantly brisk to miserably cold, and the wind tugged at his hat. He hunched his shoulders up to protect his neck and shoved his hands down into his pockets. In his left pocket, mixed in with his few remaining caps, his fingers met a worn, familiar scrap of hard fabric, and clenched it tightly. A little bit of luck, Lucy. That's all I need right now. Just a little bit. He glanced over his shoulder, half expecting to find the business end of a pistol staring back at him. But there was nothing there. Just the regular lowlifes, doing whatever it was they did that kept them in Goodneighbor.
The downstairs bar of Third Rail was bustling with drunken activity. Familiar faces glanced up as he entered, then turned their attention back to the singer on stage. Catching his eye, Magnolia winked theatrically, while MacCready returned a polite nod and headed towards the bar. Magnolia had always been kind to him when Whitechapel Charlie's over-service had triggered a few evenings of humiliating self-pity. The robotic bartender stared at him now, the unblinking robotic eyes waiting for an order.
“Just a beer, Charlie.”
“It's all we serve.” One of Charlie's metal arms slid a bottle towards him. “Pay up.” MacCready tossed his caps on the bar and picked up the bottle. It was the same temperature as his hand, and he sighed. A lifetime ago, he and Lucy had found a pre-war magazine advertising ice cold beer. The next time they had found a few bottles, Lucy put them in a cloth bag, and let them sit in a stream for an hour. While the beer still tasted flat and disgusting, they were cold and surprisingly refreshing. Lucy was always so much smarter than him, coming up with ideas like that. The pang of memory hit him hard, and he took a swig from his lukewarm beer with a grimace.
He tried to sit in the main bar area to keep an eye on the stairs, but the bar's other patrons were endlessly distracting. A lady ghoul with a lopsided black wig poked him in the side every time Magnolia started a new song.
“I love this song!” She would rasp at him, and grin.
“That's nice, lady.” He responded every time. “Real nice.” After several sharp jabs, he gave up and headed towards the back room. He'd have less time to react and practically no escape, but at least his ribs wouldn't be bruised. There was a plush red chair in the center of the room, remarkably well preserved for its age. MacCready settled into it, gently leaning his rifle against the wall behind him. He sighed as he sunk into the cushion. It felt good to rest properly. He dug his fingers into his pocket and pulled out Lucy's patch. The two yellow stars were dingy, and there was a smudge of dirt across one. Guiltily, MacCready licked his thumb and rubbed at the dirt until it was gone. Satisfied at a job well done, he turned the patch over and over in his fingers. Of all the patches Lucy had worn on that stupid sash when they were kids, this one had always been his favorite. She had left her sash with the next doctor when they left Little Lamplight, but MacCready had ripped the patch off when she wasn't looking.
And now it was the only thing left of her.
He shoved the patch back into his pocket, and rubbed his neck, leaning forward in the chair. I'm gonna sort this all out, Lucy. I'm gonna fix Duncan. I just gotta get out of this. I just need a little luck.
“MacCready?” His head snapped up, and he reached for his rifle. “Yeah, he's in the back room.” Looks like my luck is up. He groaned and fought the urge to mutter a forbidden word.
Winlock sauntered in, a smirk on his stupid face. The redheaded merc ran a hand over his short mohawk and looked around the room with a disapproving look. Barnes followed him in, leaning against the wall in an attempt to look intimidating. MacCready sighed. If both of the idiots were here, then they had come to shake him down, not kill him. But movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he glanced away from Winlock to stare at the room's newest occupant.
A large dog had wandered in, sniffing everything carefully. Definitely not a gunner dog, too clean, too friendly. It pressed its nose against the back of his hand, whined, and gave him a tentative lick.
“Shoo, darn it!” MacCready pushed the dog away and turned his focus back to Winlock. The smile had faded, the annoyance of being ignored showing on his face.
“Can't say I'm surprised to find you in a dump like this, MacCready.” The man's voice was low and rough, almost like a ghoul's.
“I was wondering how long it would take your bloodhounds to track me down, Winlock.” He glared at Barnes, the two mercs worked as an efficient team, Barnes the tracker and muscle, Winlock the brains. Mostly. “It's been almost three months. Don't tell me you're getting rusty.” He wiped the dog slobber on his pants. “Should we take this outside?”
“It ain't like that. I'm just here to deliver a message.”
MacCready fought a smile. It must be eating at him, getting sent here as an errand boy. He thinks he's too important for chores like this.
“In case you forgot, I left the Gunners for good.” He stretched his legs out in front of him, putting on a display of leisure and ease. Rubbing it in Winlock's face just how not afraid he was. It was stupid, and he would probably pay for it later, but right now, it felt too good to pass up.
“Yeah. I heard.” The dog trotted back into the room and plopped down at MacCready's feet. Winlock glared at it. “But you're still taking jobs in the Commonwealth. That isn't going to work for us.”
Behind Barnes, someone peeked around the corner, obviously trying to listen, but not trying to get involved. Potential client? Owner of this stupid dog? Both?
“I don't take orders from you. Not anymore.” He spoke louder than normal, in case the eavesdropper was looking to hire his services. “So why don't you take your girlfriend and walk out of here while you still can?”
“What?” Barnes stood up straight, cracked his knuckles and finally spoke. “Winlock, tell me we don't have to listen to this shit.” Winlock held up his hand towards his partner and glared at MacCready.
“Listen up, MacCready. The only reason we haven't filled your body full of bullets is we don't want a war with Goodneighbor.” He looked around the room, noticing the figure standing in Barnes' shadow. His eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward, closing the gap between himself and MacCready. “See, we respect other people's boundaries. We know how to play the game. It's something you never learned.”
“Glad to have disappointed you,” MacCready grinned, and reached down to scratch the dog behind the ears.
“You can play the tough guy all you want. But if we hear you're still operating inside Gunner territory, all bets are off. You got that?”
“You finished?” He stood up, trying to stare eye to eye with the much larger man.
“Yeah, we're finished.” He turned, and started towards the exit. “Come on, Barnes.”
As they left, Barnes slowed to stare down the person behind him, now fully exposed to the light. She was several inches shorter than him and seemed to shrink under his glare. Her eyes widened, and she swallowed hard. Like a shot, the dog was at her side, lips parted to expose teeth. Barnes' eyes darted to the dog, MacCready, and then back to the woman. He sniffed derisively and stalked after Winlock. Left alone in the doorway, she exhaled deeply, and turned to MacCready, the timid expression on her face changing to one of hope.
He'd seen that expression before on the drunks and junkies of the Commonwealth. It was the expression that meant somebody wanted you for a favor. She had better have caps. I've got to get the hell out of Goodneighbor. He leaned back and sized her up. Small framed, not heavily armed. At first glance, he could only see a small pistol on her hip. Her clothes didn't fit right, and none of her armor matched. Technically, nobody's armor matched, but her's lacked the care and customization that most people put in over time. She was older than him, but not by much. He narrowed his eyes as he continued to stare. Wedding ring. Sheltered runaway wife on an adventure? That could explain the awful armor and lack of firepower. Pip-boy. Oh hell. Pip-boys always meant trouble. The few people with them he had encountered had always caused him problems.
“Look, Lady... If you're preaching about the Atom or looking for a friend, you've got the wrong guy.” She cocked her head to the side, eyebrows raised. “If you need a hired gun, then maybe we can talk.” He sat back down and took a sip of his beer. It was completely flat now, and disgusting, but he had to look cool and not desperate for the job.
She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. The leather of her armor squeaked as it shifted, betraying the lack of experience its owner had at wearing it.
“From what I just heard, sounds like you're out of business.”
“Are you kidding me? I'm not about to let a couple of Gunner rejects stand between me and a solid payday.” Was that too desperate? Keep it cool, MacCready.
She folded her arms across her chest, and leaned back. With her hip cocked out, she reminded MacCready of Princess, a stubborn girl he knew from Little Lamplight. She had been mayor before him, for five minutes, before he had punched her in the face to save everyone from her tyranny.
“Alright. Sounds like you can handle yourself. But I worry about those guys throwing a wrench in the works.” Her hand twitched, like an itchy trigger finger, but it was just her thumb rubbing across her ring. Her incredibly nice, shiny, where the heck did she even get that ring. The glint from it caught the light and said 'CAPS' to MacCready in a voice that sounded like angels singing. Don't screw this up. Land this client.
“If you're worried about Winlock and Barnes, don't be. They couldn't kill a squirrel with a rocket launcher.” He suppressed a laugh at the visual image and put his serious face back on. “Now, what about you? How do I know I won't end up with a bullet in my back?”
She wrinkled her nose and turned towards the door.
“If my caps aren't good enough to answer that question, I can take them somewhere else.”
He reached out and grabbed her by the arm, gently pulling her back to face him. It gave him pause how little resistance she offered. How the hell did this lady get all the way to Goodneighbor?
“All right, all right! No need to get your panties in a bunch. Tell you what, price is 250 caps. Up front, and non-negotiable.” He released her arm and threw up his hands. “What do you say?”
She gave him a nervous smile, still playing with her ring.
“Everything's negotiable. Would you take 200?”
He scratched his head under his cap and grimaced. I really need the caps, and something tells me I'd be the only thing keeping her alive. Maybe I could use the karma.
“You drive a hard bargain, but you just bought yourself an extra gun.” He picked up his beer, swirled the bottle, and decided against drinking the rest. With a sigh, he set it down on the small table. “All right, boss. Let's get out of here.”
Her face broke out into a full grin. She has really nice teeth. That's...weird. MacCready shook off the thought and held out his hand.
“MacCready. But I'm betting you already knew that.”
“Alice.” She grasped his hand and gave it a firm shake. Not hard, but professional, as if she had spent a lifetime making deals. Merchant, maybe? “And Dogmeat.” She gestured down with her head. The dog responded with a short bark and licked MacCready again.
“Dogmeat?”
“He came with the name. Not my fault.”
“Right then. Where are we off to?”
She flicked a dial on her pip-boy, switching the screen to a map of the Commonwealth. A skinny finger jabbed at the glass.
“Heading back to Diamond City. And then from there, back ho-” She swallowed hard, and started over. “From there, back to where I'm staying.”
He let that slide. Obviously, there were things she didn't want to talk about, and he didn't really care to know. He gave a short nod and gestured towards the exit.
They walked in silence out onto the streets of Goodneighbor, but MacCready couldn't help notice how overwhelmed his new boss was. Her face was lit with curiosity as she took in the neon and grime of the small town.
“First time to Goodneighbor?” He asked casually, as she stared at the Memory Den.
“First time in a long time.” Her answer was soft, lacking the bravado from her earlier negotiations. She blinked rapidly and shoved the pip-boy in his face. “Look, I came along the river on my way here, but it's much fast to cut through the city. I want to try and get back there before dark.”
“We've got a few hours, so that shouldn't be an issue if we move quickly. Just follow me.”
She shook her head as they passed out of the city gate.
“I could find my way to Fenway with my eyes shut. I think I know a good path.”
“Fenway?”
“Diamond City. Sorry.” She shook her head, and headed off down the street at a brisk pace, Dogmeat close behind. Great. She's completely crazy. This is going to be just great. With a heavy sigh, MacCready unslung his gun from his back and settled it into his arms. He had a feeling he was going to be needing it shortly.
That prediction came true sooner than he had realized when they stumbled on a small group of raiders outside of the Park Street Station. Thankfully, there were only five, and MacCready was quite proud of himself for taking down three.
“Impressed yet?” He turned to check on his charge, not charge, BOSS, and stared. One raider was face down on the street, and Dogmeat had the other pinned down by the shoulder. Alice leveled her pistol at the man's face, breathed deeply, and pulled the trigger. Blood pooled from the bullet hole, mixing with the rest from the other raiders. She shuddered and holstered her gun.
“Let's keep moving.” She said quietly, turning away from the dead raiders.
“Yeah, give me two seconds.” MacCready gave the bodies a quick once-over, checking for spare caps and ammo. His rummaging successful, he looked up to offer her half of the spoils. She was gone.
His mind raced furiously. What's the most direct way to Diamond City from here?? His heart sank, and he took off running down the street. Boston Common. Swan's Pond.
He caught up with Alice as she entered the square. In the distance, he could see the large shape of the behemoth stirring. Frantically, he grabbed her arm and dragged her into the alcove of doorway long since boarded up. With one arm he pinned her to the wall and covered her mouth with the other.
“Don't. Move.” He hissed under his breath. Her eyes were wide and frantic with confusion and fear, but she gave him a slight nod.
There was a loud splash, and the ground shook as the beast moved about in its territory. MacCready tried to make himself as small as possible, pressing himself tightly against his new client and the wall. He was too worried about not getting eaten to worry about any particular complaints she might have at the time. He let his head drop, resting the top of his hat against the wall, his forehead resting on her shoulder. He breathed deeply, trying to keep the sound as quiet as possible. He tried to listen to the monster, to gauge its movements, but he couldn't help but be hyper-aware of every inch of his skin that touched hers. He felt his face flush, and he hated himself. She's a client. I'm keeping her, and myself, alive. This is nothing. This means nothing. Pull yourself together. He repeated the thought over and over, trying to override the part of his brain that was panicking over such close proximity to a woman. This was such a terrible idea.
After what seemed like an eternity, the crashing noises ceased, and the rhythmic grumbling of snoring filled the large courtyard. MacCready let himself relax and pulled his body back. He released the pressure of his arm from Alice's chest and held a finger to his lips. She nodded again, and he moved his hand from her face. As they crept from the doorway, she froze, staring at the sleeping giant.
“What...” she whispered, and let the sentence die as he glared at her, shaking his head. She reached out and grabbed his sleeve, and let herself get led out of danger. Dogmeat appeared from his own hiding place and took up behind them.
“What was that... thing?” They were several blocks away when she spoke again, still hushed, as if it might hear them.
“Behemoth.” She stared blankly at him. “Giant super mutant.” She blinked. “Super. Mutant.” He repeated the words slowly as if she were a child. When her expression refused to change, he stopped walked. “Look. I don't think we're going to make it to Diamond City before it gets dark. It's never a good idea traveling through the city at night. I know a safe place nearby we can hole up for the night. That sound good?”
She nodded, biting her lip nervously.
“Look. You paid me good money to keep you alive. I've been doing this since I was a kid. I'm good at it. Let's just get somewhere safe for the night.” She nodded, and meekly followed him into the city ruins. “And then, I have a list of questions I want answered.”