#dirty windows

Traveling in the dark post-apocalypse made Nora more uneasy than she already was. A stark memory of sprinting through the unknown dark, John yelling instructions as gun fire riddled the night surfaced. It made her want to turn on her Pip-Boy light, to ward off some of the uncertainty, but she knew better. A light in the dark would call attention. 

For all of Nora’s mounting discomfort and anxiety, MacCready seemed to be the exact opposite. The smartass kid was gone, shoved deep down under the guise of collected professionalism. It was like he was a totally different person. And it helped. A lot. In a moment where relying on John’s emotions in a time of uncertainty wasn’t feasible, seeing MacCready’s calm demeanor gave her something to mirror. Maybe someday these harrowing moments would become old hat and she wouldn’t be so reliant on the people around her. It was something Nora both wished for and dreaded.

It took just under three hours to make it to Bunker Hill. The monument still stood, tall and proud and mostly intact. It was almost eerie, seeing the towering obelisk jutting out from the remains of the old buildings, a tall shadow with the sun rising in the background. As they grew closer to the monument John’s voice drifted across her consciousness. 

“Stay there for the rest of the morning, sunshine. Send MacCready and we can pick you up on the way back.”

“No way,” Nora replied, her voice lowered into a whisper. “You need help, and we’re almost there.”

“This isn’t how I wanted our first meeting to go. You shouldn’t have to see this.”

"Well, none of this has gone how you wanted. I’d say this is pretty par for the course."

"Ha. Yer a riot." 

"You’ve been there for me every single time I’ve needed you. It’s my turn."

Once they got to Bunker Hill, John was able to help them navigate through the rubble and ruin of old old buildings. He directed them up one street, then down another, weaving them through downtown Boston. When the warehouse building came into view, John informed them that they had arrived at their destination, and told them where the entry door was. Before Nora could even start approaching the building, MacCready grabbed her forearm and pulled her back into the shadows of a looming building. 

“You’re going to stay here and keep your eyes on that door,” MacCready instructed. “If you see anybody that isn’t me you’re got to fire your gun twice. Pop-pop, understand?”

Nora nodded.

“Then I want you to hide. Back into this building and lay low. I’ll come get you.” He gestured to the building behind her, her eyes followed. The building looked as if it was scorched black. Big yawning windows revealed a similar interior, dark and ominous and filled with debris. 

Dog plopped down beside her, his paw swiping out towards MacCready. 

“Protect her, boy,” MacCready murmured, giving one of Dog’s ears a quick scratch. “Make sure she does as she’s told.”

It was only after Nora gave firm verbal acknowledgement when MacCready started jogging away. He went to the end of the block, peaked around the corner, and then disappeared from view. Time slowed to a crawl again. Dread clotted up her throat again. Nerves, and anxiousness, and worry made it almost difficult to breathe again. Any moment spent not getting in and helping John was another moment where possibility could rear its ugly head. 

Her eyes remained rooted to the door.

It wasn’t overly long ago when she was cursing John’s existence, and now she was making herself sick with worry over what could happen to him. There had been deployments like this. Too long stretches of time where the bond was blocked between her and Nate, and all she could do was worry over all of the terrible possibilities and listen to the haunting silence between them…

When MacCready came jogging into view, Nora sighed with relief. He made a waving gesture for her and Dog to join him and when they did he asked, “Everything still okay in there?”

Nora repeated the question.

"It's okay as it's going to get. 

"He said it's okay-"

"- as it's going to get. There is no part of any of this that is okay. Nothing is okay in here, but... it's... not gonna be getting any better." 

"Let's go,” Nora murmured.

As soon as MacCready opened the door, Dog charged inside. MacCready stepped in after, rifle at the ready, and Nora followed behind. The second she crossed the threshold she made sure the door was closed and locked. 

The light was useless enough that MacCready gave her the go-ahead to turn on the Pip-Boy’s flashlight. The hall was doused in green light, shining against metal shelving and catching on the harsh shapes of lockers. There was a lone door at the end of the hallway, and what looked like the remnants of a timeclock. 

MacCready knelt suddenly, plucking a shotgun from the ground just beside the entrance. He was quick to press it into her palm.

“It’s Hancock’s. Be careful with it, it’s got a bit of a hair trigger.”

Nora looked down at the weapon, making sure her fingers were nowhere near the trigger and the barrel was pointed at the ground to the side as opposed to at her feet as she holstered her pistol. The weapon suited him, somehow. It looked like it belonged to a man dressed up in a red frock, with an old tricorn hat, and enough confidence to fill the harbor. 

MacCready continued down the hall after Dog who was already snuffling at the opposing door. Nora had just started to follow when MacCready shoved the door open, rifle tucked up into his shoulder with his finger ready at the trigger. The hall was briefly filled with cold light as MacCready moved further into the building. 

“Oh my god, Hancock. What the–”

The door started to drift shut, slow and leisurely. 

“Hey,” came the gravely, rasping voice of her soulmate. Nora’s steps faltered. “This ain’t my fucking circus, okay?” The door shut with an echoing thud, leaving Nora in the entry hall.

Nora's stomach lurched. Her emotions had been in flux since learning that John was going on some kind of solo vigilante mission. Then when he had reached out, in pain and barely lucid it took all she had not to get sick. She was worried, scared, and anxious; and yet despite the circumstances there was a new, bubbly excitement. Nora was going to meet her soulmate for the first time. She lingered in the hallway, looking down at her dirty vault suit and selfishly wishing she looked cleaner, more put together. 

This wasn’t about meeting John. She was here to help people. 

Gathering up her nerves, she stepped forward, reaching for the door, only to stop short when John’s voice drifted across her consciousness.

”Hold on, sweets.” His voice was a soft whisper, ”It ain’t pretty in here.” 

“I know,” she said, unable to keep the tremor from her voice. “But it’s probably nothing I haven’t seen before, so—“ The door swung inward, and it startled Nora into backpedaling a handful of feet. Light filled the entry as the shadowed figure of her soulmate stepped from the room. The door shut. It felt like finality. The end of a chapter of her life, and the beginning of another one with John.

John who looked inhuman and otherworldly in the green light coming from her Pip-Boy. He could be the monster in those old creature features that Nate loved. Even still, it was John. Her John. Her John with his arm in a makeshift sling. Her John looking like he had just been through hell. Her John gazing at her with his shining onyx eyes, like she was the only thing that existed in the whole world. 

There was a sudden yearning to close the distance between them; she ached to touch, and hold, and never let go. There was a tender warmth that radiated from his end of their bond. It felt hopeful, and hesitant. It made her smile.

“Fuck,” he rumbled longingly, stepping in to an eager approach. “You’re so fucking beautiful, baby.”

“H-hi,” she managed. 

“Hi,” he rasped, reaching for her with his good arm. As soon as he was close enough he was touching her. The pad of his thumb caressed the length of her jaw, then his fingers slipped along the nape of her neck, into her hair. She lifted her hand to touch him in turn — she wanted to touch his chest, his shoulders, wanted to wrap her arms around him and hug him tight — she pulled up short. She remembered his pain. Specifically, she remembered it being just about everywhere.

“You’re hurt—“

The arm in the sling reached up to take her hovering hand. Nora gasped, ready to rebuke him for aggravating an injury, and then he settled her palm to his gnarled cheek. The fingers on the back of her neck flexed as he closed his eyes and hummed appreciatively. She stroked her thumb over the stippled flesh covering his cheekbone.

“I—“ he expelled a breath. “Fuck—I—“

The hand at her neck tugged her close as he leaned in. She closed her eyes. The movement felt as if he was pulling her in for a kiss. She felt the anticipation between them, felt the need, and the building warmth and yet she knew she wasn’t ready for it. Maybe the kiss itself would change that. Or maybe it wouldn’t. She didn’t want to find out. Not here. 

John dipped his head down as he pulled her close, and instead of bringing her in for a kiss he instead pressed his forehead to hers. 

Nora’s eyes popped open, only to see that his were drifting closed. He looked nearly euphoric. The tension in his shoulders eased. His body seemed to sag with relief. He stepped in closer, their bodies brushing. Completion. A piece that had been missing for far too long had finally found where it belonged.

He whispered, “You’re finally here.”

“I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”

John’s smile was lazy, bordering on dreamy as he purred, “Worth the wait.”

Nora bit her lip to stop herself from practically beaming at him. “How’s your arm?”

“Arm’s fine.”

“How about your ribs?” 

“I have plenty of ribs. Ribs are fine.”

“Your chest?”

“S’fine.”

“Pride?”

“Oh, honey, it’s pretty fucking bruised,” he chortled.

When she choked out a quiet laugh, he opened his eyes, meeting hers.

He swore. “Just fucking look at you—“

Suddenly, there was screaming, terrified and shrill. Nora’s attention snapped to the source. The moment in time where her and John were the only people in the world shattered and they were back to the cold, terrible reality. John slipped the shotgun from her hand in a movement that was completely seamless and all flourish. The door was pushed open, and he stepped inside with his gun raised. Nora followed, drawing her pistol from its holster. The second she stepped into the room, she instantly regretted it.

There were two bodies on the floor, one riddled with bullet holes, the other with a gaping wound to the throat. Blood pooled around them, dark and daunting in the icy fluorescent lighting. There were cages in the room, and even though the cage doors were open there were people inside. They were naked, hurt, but most looked to be asleep from her vantage point - all of them except for the screamer. This place was a nightmare. It reeked of something Nora could only call horror.

In front of the screaming woman was MacCready, his hands up in surrender. It looked like he had gotten too close to the cage, and the woman lashed out. The back of his hand was bleeding with what looked like claw marks. Nora skirted around John and made her way to the cage the screaming woman was in. 

“RJ?”

“I–I just tried to help her get out–”

“It’s okay,” Nora soothed both MacCready and the woman. She abandoned her weapon and her backpack, not wanting to supply the woman with anything that would hurt herself, or hurt others. Slipping back into her confidence was like putting on her favorite dress. This was something that she knew. This wasn’t tussling with a deathclaw, or navigating the apocalypse. This was a different kind of fight she had seen in another life, and while she wasn’t a professional, she was at least familiar. It would take a gentle hand, and a bit of patience. They needed all of the patience in the world, and yet time was ticking.

“Hey,” Nora crooned gently. She leaned in to reach for the shrieking woman. Her hands lashed out at Nora’s, hitting and clawing weakly. It would appear that the swipe at MacCready had taken the majority of her energy. “I’m here to help, okay? Sssh…” All the kind words meant nothing. The woman had probably heard plenty of gentle coaxing words that lead to pain. It was action that would mean the most, but talking everyone through the process helped; announcing action, and following through. “I’m going to take your hand, okay? Easy…”

The energy left the woman in a visible way. The flailing arms faltered and flopped. Her naked body drooped and her screams broke into quiet, ragged, choking sobs. Accepting an inevitable that, this time, would not come.

It was then that Nora took the woman’s hand. It wasn’t a full fledged palm-to-palm grasp, but something tenuous and easily broken should the woman put up more fight. 

“No more, please…”

Nora crooned gently, shifting to crawl into the cage to join the woman. She ignored the mess staining the bottom, focusing on helping any way she could. 

"No one here is going to hurt you. I promise. We're here to help."

"N-no more..."

“No more,” she agreed, happy to feel the woman’s hand shift to solidify her grasp on Nora’s. Kneeling before the woman, Nora peered back over at John and MacCready, both watching at a distance. "Are there any clothes they can wear?"

"If you can call them that," John said, keeping his voice pitched low and subdued. 

"Anything will do. Let’s get them out of here.”

//