More Gunners. More robots. Enemies were around every corner it seemed. Was the Commonwealth fully of just mercenaries. Was there that little good left in this desolate world?

  The question echoed in his mind as Boston took out the last Gunner held up in the experiment chamber. After a few quick clumsy strikes of the keyboard, the terminal hummed to life. He pounded his fist against the desk in triumph. Finally something in the fucked up world was going in their favor.

  Of course, he spoke too soon. He felt the hot sting of a blade in his lower left back from a Gunner he failed to check was dead in his rush. “Damn it.” Boston slumped forward, his knees starting to buckle under his own weight. His sluggish movements left him open for another blow. This time catching him closer to the spine and being enough to take him down. Willin his brain to block out the pain, Boston swung around to put a round into the Gunner’s head.

  “Fucking, idiot,” Boston mumbled at himself while looking over his shoulder trying to figure out how to remove the blade still lodged in his back. It took far too long for his liking before the bloody knife clattered against the floor. He had to get back to Cait. Gripping the edge of the desk, Boston pulled himself up. The pain shooting down his left leg proved too much and ended up sprawled out on the floor in a small pool of his own blood.

  Stim pack!

  Frantically, Boston flipped through the pockets of his gear only to come up with a pain blocker. God damn it to hell! That wouldn’t work. He tried sitting up again, hand slipping on a metal cylinder.

  Psycho.

  After a quick glance, Boston found it all over the room. Taking it wasn’t exactly the most ideal situation, but it would be what he needed to spike his adrenaline enough to get back to Cait. Hopefully, the blocker would help ease to pain for now.

  The shot of Psycho worked instantly, giving Boston the energy needed to get to his feet. He injected himself with the blocker before ignoring his wounds and made his way back to Cait.

  Dogmeat was curled protectively around the semi-conscious woman. He lifted his head from his paws, saw the blood leaking from his master’s body, and let out a small whine.

  “No time to worry about me, boy.” Despite the blocker, pain radiated through his weakening body as he bent to scoop Cait into his arms.

  Stirring slightly, the redhead draped an arm around his neck and gave him a weak yet breathtaking smile. “You look like shite, Boston.”

  He pressed his lips to her clammy brow. “And you’ve never looked better. Time to go.” With the continuing blood lose and weaning effects of the drug, Boston had to hurry before his body gave out on him. “Come, Dogmeat.”

  Cait struggled to hold onto consciousness. Everything hurt. Even the simple task of breathing was too much. Closing her eyes, she pressed her face against his shoulder forcing herself to concentrate on the smell of him. Sweat. Musk. Dirt. Under all that was a hint of cedar that always clung to his skin. So many nights, when the cravings took hold, Cait would curl up in her bed, face buried in a shirt of his she stole long ago. Before they even started to tangle up in one another.

  Through the haze of what Cait could only figure was approaching death, Cait felt something slick on Boston’s back. To her horror, she found her hand drenched in blood. “You’re hurt.”

  Boston adjusted his grip, holding her tighter and forcing all his effort into putting one foot in front of another. “Only a flesh wound.”

  “Yer a horrible liar.”

  He let out a soft chuckle. “So, I’ve been told.” MacCready especially, constantly reminding him of how horrible his poker face was. Turning the final corner, Boston couldn’t hold back the sigh of relief. Carefully as he could muster with the pain starting to worsen, he laid her down in the chair. He looked at all the equipment, struggling to remember what the instruction said to do.

  “Boston.” Cait wrapped her fingers weakly around his wrist, stopping him from sliding one of the many needles into her arm.

  Confused, he blinked down at her. “what is it?”

  “What if…If…” Cait wrestled with the words tangled in her throat. “Ima afraid.”

  Her admission broke Boston’s heart. Giving no mind of the blood on his hands, he touched her cheek. “I’m right here.”

  Her tired eyes found his. “I donna know who I am without the drug. I donna know how exists. What if ye-.”

  Boston silenced her with a gentle, yet needy kiss. “we’ll figure it out,” He vowed. “Together.”

  The corner of her mouth lifted. “Together,” She echoed. “I like the sound of that.”

  Quickly, Boston finished hooking Cait to the machine. “It says it’s going to hurt.” The fact already put a sour taste in his mouth. “I don’t know how much.”

  She kept his gaze locked with his. They’d gotten this far and Boston bled for her. “Whatever happens. No matter how much I scream, don’t stop it.”

  “Cait.” Emotions clogged his throat. “I don’t know if I’m that strong.”

  “Yer the strongest person I know.”

  He pressed his lips to her brow. “we’ll agree to disagree at the moment. Are you ready?”

  “I trust you, Boston.”

  God, he prayed he didn’t let her down. Sharing one last kiss, Boston limped out of the room to the terminal. His hands trembled, hovering over the keyboard as he looked through the lass at his fearless warrior. Dogmeat leaned against his legs spurring him into action. Mere moments after engaging the program, Cait let out a blood-curdling scream that grated against Boston’s very soul.

  Stumbling, he caught himself by gripping the edge of the desk. With Cait’s scream of agony in his ears, Boston’s vision began to grey. Please don’t take her. Not one for praying, he sent his plea up to whoever was listening. He couldn’t lose another woman he loved. “Cait.”

  The name fell from his lips before the darkness claimed him.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

  Boston came awake with a start. Disoriented, he swept his gaze around the room to find himself still in the vault, face down on one of its preserved beds, and shirtless. He tried to move only causing him to erupt into a cursing fit at the sharp pain in his back. Wounded, his hazily remembered. “Cait.” Pushing past the discomfort, he managed to roll on to his side finding the woman in question already approaching him with a can of purified water. For the first time since their fateful meeting at the Combat Zone, there was color in her once pale skin and a light shimmer in her eyes. “you’re okay.”

  “Canna say the same for ya.  Careful now or ye gonna undo my patch job.” Carefully, Cait sat on the edge of the bed and lifted the can to his lips. “Drink.”

  He did until it was empty and pushed it away in order to lay his hand against her cheek. No longer clammy and sweaty. Sighing, Boston pulled her down until their brows touched. “God, you’re okay.” Tears caught in his throat. “I thought… Your screams…Then everything went black.”

  “Because ye allowed yerself to get stabbed twice wi’ no mind to patch yerself up.”

  Hearing the twinge of anger beneath her seemingly calm voice, Boston fought a smile. “No stimpacks.”

  “They were all in the dog’s vest ye left with me.”

  “Had to protect you.” Boston drew back to meet her gaze dinging them swimming with emotions and damp. “Don’t you understand, Cait?”

  Cait shook her head. No, she didn’t. Couldn’t understand him or the feelings he stirred in her. No one, not a single soul, in her entire life gave a damn about her. All the kindness, patience, couldn’t be free. There was always a price. Wasn’t there?

  He wiped the single tear that escaped her defenses with the pad of his thumb. “I love you.” God, it felt incredibly good to finally say the words allowed after struggling with them for so long. “I love you, Cait.”

  “How?” For the first time, Cait allowed herself to let go of the emotions surging through her and, by God, it felt good. Maybe it was because, for the first time in her life, she felt free. Felt like she was no longer shackled by the pain and turmoil of her past. Maybe because her mind was clear and her heart was full of hope instead of hatred. Bitterness and anger. All because of this man before her. “How can you. Ima bloody mess.”

  “That’s the great thing about love.” Boston gave her a gentle smile. “It doesn’t have to make sense. It just is.”

  A teary laugh escaped her. “That must be logic from the old time as it sure in the hell doesn’t make a lick of sense.” Regardless, Cait accepted it. Accepted how he made her feel even if it scared her shitless. “I love ye too, Boston. I thought myself incapable after everyin’ Iva ben through. Iva nevva been so happy to be proven wrong.

  He moved forward, stopping when he felt the shift in the metal against his skin.

  “Boston, look at me.” Cait touched the ring hanging around his beck by a leather cord. “I know ye still love her and that she holds a part of yer heart that will always belong to her. Ima not gonna ask you to forget that love, to forget her, and I nevva will.”

  And that made him love this woman all the more. He pulled her close, his mouth finding hers, trying to pour every ounce of that love into that single kiss as he didn’t have the words. He may never have them. Feeling Cait’s hands in his hair, Boston carefully fell onto his back, dragging her with regardless of the pain. He needed her and by god, he was going to have her. To worship and ravish her until his love was branded in every inch of her skin. Sense told him to wait until they were either back in Sanctuary or to a nearby town, but Boston couldn’t wait that long. It was a bit poetic if look at with the right angle.

Boston’s expression shifts minutely into what she recognises now as one of concern. “Why not?

Cait begins to pace, her hands shaking. “What if- what if the Psycho’s the only thing that’s been keepin’ me together? What if losin’ it makes me fall apart?” She stops. “What if this opens up me eyes an’ I don’t like what I see? There are reasons I dulled the pain. Things that I don’t wanna face. Things that I was tryin’ to forget. I-I’d rather be spittin’ blood than-than reliving that shite.”

“You don’t believe that and neither do I,” says Boston. “You deserve a second shot, Cait. Take it. Please.”

A long moment passes. Her eyes drift over his features, taking in the sight of him. His eyes implore her to continue, but still he waits patiently, letting her make the choice. Cait sighs. Even now, she knows that he’d support her. Even if she backed out now.  

She hisses a curse. “Okay, okay. Fine, ya convinced me. I’ll go sit in that chair. But you best be ready to flip that switch, ya got it?”

It feels like an eternity passes as she settles herself in the chair. Her heart races as she sits herself down and tries to ignore her gut’s instinct to get the fuck out of there, away from the needles aimed right at her head and the leather restraints Boston helps fix around her wrists. He squeezes her fingers before standing and leaving. “I’ll be nearby the whole time. Promise.” She wishes that comforted her more.

The main terminal is less complicated to use than Boston had thought it might be. A few simple commands and the machine next door kicks into life. As do Cait’s screams.

He manages to block them out at first. A few whimpers, but she’ll be fine. A scream, but she’ll be fine. This will be worth it.

She sobs as the machine bores further into her skull.

“Fuck this.” Boston presses the key to cancel operations. Error. Task cannot be completed at this time. “Fuck. Come on.” He begins pressing more keys, trying anything to get the machine to finish its task early and let Cait go. Error. Option not available.

Cait’s screams echo from next door.

“Stupid piece of shit!” Running out of options, he hits the machine. Error. He screams and hits it again. And again. And again.

The terminal beeps. Toxin purge complete.

He’s already by her side before the needles have fully extracted themselves, his hands fumbling with the wrist straps as he tries to undo them. He waits anxiously for Cait to say something, anything. Her chest rises and falls in slow, laboured motions and her eyelids flutter over her still-closed eyes. “Cait? Can you hear me?”

The faintest trace of a nod and her eyes crack open. She takes in the sight of him watching her nervously, blue eyes fixed intently on her face. Such lovely eyes. He’s crouched beside her, just like he was before, waiting patiently for her to make the next move. Cait smiles.

She straightens up in the chair, still feeling uneasy, but also good. Boston offers her a drink of water, which she gladly takes. She has to make herself not instantly down the lot lest she bring it all back up again.

“How are you feeling?”

The water goes down well. Clean and clear and fresh. “Strange. I feel...strange. But good strange.” She looks around and takes in her surroundings. She’d paid little notice to them before, her mind focused on the chair and nothing else. A tray of old needles makes her shudder and look away. Her gaze returns back to Boston, to something familiar. “Everything feels different. Clearer. Nothing’s quite how I remember it.”

She stands up slowly, legs shaky and drained, and takes note of everything she’s feeling. Different. A little uneasy, but otherwise good. Better than she’s felt in a long time. “This is- it worked. It actually worked. I don’t feel any of the shite I was experiencin’ before.”

The realisation makes her sit back down and mutter to herself, “Christ, was I really that far gone?”

Boston shakes his head and takes her hands in his. “It doesn’t matter now. What matters is you’re alright. And thank God, too. I was really worried for a moment just then.”

She stares down at their hands. Normally, she’d jerk away. Normally, he’d be too wary to touch her. She smiles up at him and he smiles back. “I think- I think I’ll be alright now.”

Radstorms have never looked quite so beautiful before. Cracks of green split the sky. Dark clouds dance as the wind pushes them along, aiding them on their way. A voice calls out, but it’s lost in the rolls of thunder.

“Cait?”

Her name cuts through the noise, and Cait turns to find Boston watching her curiously. “You okay?”

She smiles warmly. “Never better.”

“You’ve been stood there a while now.”

She shrugs. “I’m just enjoying the view. Though it’s just improved some.” Her smile stretches into a grin and Boston finds he needs to look away for a moment, his cheeks suddenly feeling rather warm. Cait laughs, a sound neither of them are quite used to yet, but both want to be. She inclines her head. “Come ‘ere.”

Cait takes Boston’s hand in hers, turning it over and playing with his palm as she speaks. “I never thanked ye for what you did fer me. You’ve give me a second shot at things and I’ll never forget that. So, erm, thank you.” She uses his hand then to pull him down to her, and she presses her lips to his. He freezes at first, taken aback by her actions, but then the little voice in the back of his head is kicked outside into the storm and he kisses her back, slow and tender and gentle.

When they break away, she’s still smiling. “Sorry. I’ve been wantin’ to do that fer a while now. Should I not’ve?”

“Cait…” Boston sighs, shakes his head and chuckles. “C’mere so we can do that again.” His arms loop around her waist and he lifts her, her legs wrapping around him to hold herself steady whilst her mouth finds his again.