before i die alone

Not the smug condescending asshole. The gunfire. The thrill of the fight to get here, the feel of the gun in his hands. He’d exchanged his sniper for the pistol after getting one look at the room. No good sightlines, no way to pull back. What he did have, though, was adequate room to line up shots on a snooty motherfucker in a leather coat. He had backup, other bodies in the room to lay waste to this guy, this Courser.

Daniel was lucky that York didn’t fire as soon as he could. He had the shot lined up from the beginning and the instant one word fell from the Courser’s mouth, he wanted to shoot. His fingers twitched, tightening around the gun’s grip and the trigger, but he waited. He let Daniel talk.

Good decision, as it turned out, since the Courser turned invisible seconds before a grenade went off under his feet. Maybe he’d thank Daniel later or something. If he remembered. The world was still loose, still felt like this wasn’t quite right. Like he wasn’t really here. Like the Courser wasn’t real, or the dog, or the ghoul to his left.

The only thing that felt real was the gun. The loud, reverberating bang of it firing. It brought clarity to everything. He could feel his heart pulsate with each round that slammed into the Courser.

It fought back, of course, with its own gun. With its hands. It landed a punch on Eliana as she swerved around it, another to Dogmeat dodging its feet. In the end, it went down. Brought to its knees by the multiple guns and held there by Dogmeat’s fangs sinking into its neck. A wound that, if this thing were real, would have left the Courser seeping blood and unable to talk.

But when York stepped before it, the Courser spoke, unhindered by the dog gripping it. “You accomplish nothing with this,” it said, soulless eyes staring up at him. “The Institute is more powerful than you. This synth isn’t safe.”

Yeah, York was done listening to this. He was done with the Courser, cared nothing about any other synths. He rolled his eyes and, before he could even think about what he was doing, lunged forward and slammed his fist into the Courser’s face. Immediately, pain sparked over his knuckles and increased into a searing burn. He cursed, snatching him hand back and stepping away. Still cursing to himself, York eyed his hand and made a face. Two of his fingers were bent at odd angles and he knew what that meant, but he could only think that there should be more pain if he had broken bones.

—

Eliana removed herself from the fight once she was sure the others had it covered. A Courser was a big deal and a huge problem, but with York’s brutality (thanks to drugs, she thought bitterly) and Daniel’s quick thinking, they should be fine. A grenade to cancel out a stealth boy was smart - without invisibility, a lot of the Courser’s typical bullshit was gone. Surely three guys with guns and a mean dog could take him down.

And if they didn’t, then Eliana would finish what she was up to and go back to help.

She had heard the Courser mention a synth. While the other three were focused on him, she scanned the room until she locked eyes with a scared woman locked up on the far side. A woman dressed in Institute issued clothing.

Eliana went to her and, after a quick conversation through the bars - a conversation that consisted of the synth confused as all hell as to what Eli was and Eli barking at her for a keys location - she had the gate unlocked.

“You should get out of here,” she said, glancing back to the fight.

The synth didn’t move.

“Go,” Eli ordered. “Now.”

The synth said, “What… what are you?”

Eli sighed. She hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “There’s an elevator over there,” she said, forcing her voice calm. “Take it. Get out of here. Find yourself some clothes that don’t scream Institute. And if you want help - which you should - look for the Railroad.”

“The Railroad?” the synth repeated. “What’s the Railroad?”

“Will you just get out of here?”

If there wasn’t a fight going on, if she could trust her own brother and his idiot friend, then Eliana would have explained everything better. She usually did better than this. Usually handled introductions to the wasteland calmly, let synths ask as many questions as they wanted. Someone as old as she had enough answers. As it was though, she had to practically shove the synth out of there. When she turned around to the Courser again, it was in time to watch York stumbling away from it.

She frowned. Did that idiot just punch a Courser?

Staying behind the others, Daniel fired his shots into the Courser’s chest until his mag was empty. He reloaded, putting six bullets into the barrel, watching the ghoul as she ran up the stairs.

A glance at Dogmeat, making sure he got the kill. Then he noticed York moving in and figured the man had that covered.

He didn’t see what was going on upstairs, only that a moment after, someone was shoved into an elevator.

That was all he needed to know. He wasn’t gonna trust that woman. As she was returning, he could tell she caught him watching.

Good, he thought.

There was ringing in his ears still from the gunshots, but some voices were starting to come through, slowly. Next thing he saw was York’s shaky hand that he was staring at, cursing.

Daniel frowned, couldn’t tell what the curses were yet, though it looked bad. Bad enough for someone to be screaming at least. That’s not going to be any fun once the drugs wear off.

Normally, he’d say something. At this point, however, he was just tired of this fucking place. Instead, he went up to the body, revolver replaced by a knife. The synth didn’t look like a robot at all. It bled like anyone else in that room would, its face was now twisted into some odd, unnatural grimace from the punch that York threw at it. But it looked indistinguishable from a human. And there’s been enough human bodies to compare.  That wasn’t exactly what Daniel was expecting a dead robot to look like.

Regardless, he shoved the blade into its skull, prying it open in search for the component mentioned in the instructions provided by the mutant from the Glowing Sea.

He was glad his ears were still adjusting to the lack of noise, picking someone’s brain apart was not the most pleasant of sounds. Eventually, though, he ended up with a little mechanical part in his hands. Shook off the remaining brain chunks off his fingers and stood up, grabbing York’s wrist and placing the component in his healthy palm.

“It’s done,” he said. “Let’s get out of here before those Gunners find a way through that door,” a moment passed before he realized he hasn’t yet let go of his friend. Must’ve been still a little dazed from that fight.

Every shot was an adrenaline rush.

When the door was unlocked, York let the others go first. He took the time to line up a shot on a Gunner with a plasma rifle and then turned, pushing Daniel through it bodily.

On the other side of the door, it was almost too quiet. The muffled yells of those locked out. The heavy breathing of his friends. Dogmeat, panting at his feet. York glanced over all of them, already itching for something else to attack. His gaze settled on Daniel for a moment. “Nice job,” he said. “Took you long enough.”

The other man could have responded but something crashed up ahead and York snapped his head that way. A staircase climbed up before them, leading to another closed door - a regular double door, half ajar. On the heels of the noise, someone yelled out brokenly. York’s fingers twitched on the trigger of his rifle. “Bet that’s our Courser,” he said, turning back to the others.

“Give us a minute, you ass,” Eli snapped. Blood was dripping down from a cut in her arm. She had her pack on the ground, kneeling by it. “Not like it’s gonna go anywhere.”

As if to add emphasis to that, another scream echoed downstairs.

York frowned. “Just hurry up. We’re wasting time.”

“Time that you want to spend killing some more?” Eli said.

York shot a glare at her before looking at the others. By the door, Hancock held a hand out to Daniel - he was refused, Daniel waving him off. Dogmeat was scratching behind an ear now, tongue hanging out. Blood splattered his coat and York wondered dimly if it was his or the Gunners. He stood, waiting impatiently, tapping his fingers on the rifle. And as soon as Daniel was on his feet, York turned and headed toward the stairs.

Behind him, Eli cursed at him, hurled an insult that he ignored. She was in the middle of wrapping gauze around her arm, he knew that. But if he waited on her, that’d waste even more time. And he was eager to get this done.

The room the stairs led to was large, most of it taken up by a massive computer system set up in the center. A cage surrounded it, another cafe separating the control center to its left. He by passed all of it to head to another, smaller, staircase on the opposite wall. The others were following - he heard their footsteps, the brief words passed between them.

Louder pleading came from above them. York was practically sprinting up the stairs by the end of it, heading to another door. The final door, judging by the cold voice on the other wise - he paused, listened to it speak for a second longer. It sent chills down his spine and he wanted nothing more than to kill whatever was speaking.

York glanced behind him. Daniel, Eli, and Hancock looked back at him - Eli with a sour expression. Dogmeat was growling lowly, hunkered low to the ground by Daniel’s feet.

Without a word to any of them, York pushed the door open.

York was right. They were wasting time. Daniel refrained from voicing his opinion and followed his friend instead, Dogmeat doing the same along with him. York had his fingers tightly settled on his rifle, ready to pull the trigger in any second. Good. It was nice having someone capable at his side, unless the man’s recklessness got him shot first.

From up the stairs, a man was screaming, hard to determine what about through the sound of their boots hitting the stairs and Dogmeat’s growling but the closer they were, the clearer the voice was getting. There was another one - their Courser, Daniel presumed.

Past the cage in the center of the large room, they headed up, Daniel took out a couple of pulse grenades from an outer pocket of his pack as they walked. Strapped them to his belt. Figured if they were going to fight a machine, these could come in handy.

A shot from a laser rifle interrupted the pathetic screams and begging. Then another man was being questioned and he too soon joined his comrade. A third voice started when Daniel and the rest found themselves right at the final door.

“Tell me the password,” he heard from behind it.

“Look, I already told you I don’t have it. I’ll help you find a way in, but listen-”

York gave Daniel a quick glance, or he thought York did, hard to tell through the shades, and they entered.

Two dead gunners laying on the floor, blood pooling around them, the holes in their heads still fuming from the laser shot. The last man - sitting wounded against the wall, eyes wide with fear staring at the bunch who just barged in. The Courser turned to them calmly, clearly surprised but completely stoic in his actions still. He was wearing a long, leather coat, all black. Exactly what you’d expect an assassin to be wearing. The Institute was lacking some subtlety there.

“You’ve been following me,” he said.

Fuck, that dude had a really punchable face. York’s gun was already aimed at him but for some reason, he didn’t take the shot just yet.

“You’re a bitch to find,” Daniel stepped forward, scanning the synth and the surroundings as he did.

“Are you here for the synth?” the Courser spoke again. Daniel heard Dogmeat growling angrily right behind him, he could only imagine how eager to fight York was right now.

What synth? He had no idea. Didn’t much care either. If there was another one of them - he can put a bullet through their head later as well.

“Yeah, you could say that,” thank god this idiot was talking, that gave Daniel just enough time to notice a StealthBoy under his coat. A newer, more compact version of one but he had little doubt about it. He reached slowly for one of the grenades and removed the pin as he spoke, “by the way. The password’s ‘fuck you’,” the grenade landed at the Courser’s feet and Daniel gave him a triumphant smirk before he ran back.

York barely gave Daniel a glance. He was upright, gun in hands; Dogmeat had some blood on his fur. Good enough to keep moving, nothing that would break them.

He moved past without a word, a part of his mind reminding him that nothing would happen anyway. Nothing could happen. The building, the people they were fighting… None of this was real, wasn’t actually happening. A Gunner leaned out of a doorway with a pistol raised and York shot them in the chest with fluid movements. He watched the blood spurt from the bullet wound, heard the Gunner’s pained gasp and wheeze, the gun falling from their hand to the floor with a clatter. Pretty dramatic stuff.

He took the corner sharply, reloading the rifle as he walked. He was lucky this was a motion so practiced he could do it without really watching; his fingers on the gun felt like someone else, the metal distant, cool bullets a brief sensation.

The floor was out up ahead, creating a ramshackle ramp to the next floor. York took it at a jog, heaving himself up onto the next floor and immediately flattening against the wall closest to him. He snarled, “Fucking assholes,” as gunfire tore through the air. “Where the hell are they all coming from?”

“Big building. Lots of guys,” Hancock said. He hadn’t even climbed all the way up, crouched down just below the floor.

“We can get around them,” Eli said. She motioned with one hand down the hallway where several doors stood halfway open, stuck in their frames. “At least move somewhere where they can’t see us.”

York looked at her, then at the others, at Daniel. He was positive Daniel would opt for that idea, that all three of them would rather slip down the hallway unseen.

But that was bullshit. “That’s gonna take too much time,” he said. “Be easier to shoot them.”

“And that is stupid,” Eli said curtly. “I’d like to escape this shithole without a bullet in my head.”

A burning irritation was very quickly flooding York’s veins. The Gunners had stopped shooting but they were yelling, taunts and insults shooting across the air. Each word they spoke only angered York more and Eli’s refusal to listen, to go with the easiest option, wasn’t helping. “I’m gonna shoot them,” he snapped. “Not like they can actually hurt me. They’re useless stupid fucking pawns in a game.”

Eli opened her mouth to say something but York was already leaning out, rifle raised. He didn’t even think about it, just set the barrel against a shattered window frame, and lined up a shot.

Dimly, he heard Hancock mutter, “Damn. How strong were those drugs?”

And then hands clamped down on his shoulders and York was yanked back, bullets peppering the wall where he’d been. He blinked, startled for a brief second, before a scowl ripped his face in two. Turning, he reached out with one hand to shove whoever the hell had grabbed him back. His hand connected with Daniel and York paused. “What,” he said, words pushed through gritted teeth, “the fuck was that for? I could’ve killed one of them.”

During the arguing, Daniel was looking around for a quick way past the line of fire. Eli was right to slip through unnoticed but so was York. Time wasn’t on their side here.

His heart was racing. Even glued to the wall next to him, crouching, he didn’t want to look out and risk getting shot. Shit was getting serious and to think the courser was supposed to be their biggest problem.

The speakers were back on again and that was another noise that was blocking out any clear thoughts. Daniel’s hands were shaking, gripping the gun tightly, a drop of sweat running down his temple when he saw York, in the corner of his eye, leaning out from cover and into a window.

He didn’t even think when he leapt for him, grabbing him by the shoulders and throwing to the ground.  It was like an instinct, like pulling your own hand away from something that burned. One shot came from York’s rifle, a dozen followed from outside. Debris from the shots that hit the wall landed on Daniel’s back and it took him a good second to realize neither of them got hurt.

A hand landed on his thigh as he looked up, Eli and Hancock already rushing to check up on them, heads low. His gaze shifted to York and something snapped in him when he heard the man’s words.

Still on top of him, Daniel grabbed York by the collar and shoved him down.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!” he yelled right in his ear. Didn’t mind him being high on psycho up until this moment cause goddamn, if that wasn’t the stupidest thing York has done in some time. “Get a hold of yourself, you’re no use to us dead!”

Daniel didn’t finish when Eli dragged him away and forced him on his feet. She didn’t say anything. And York got up, with fire in his eyes, staring straight at Daniel and thank god Hancock stood between them, with that dumb, smug smile on his wrinkled, burned face.

“We got a courser to catch, remember?” he pointed at the hallway they were supposed to cross.

York adjusted the rifle and went ahead, although reluctantly. No doubt Daniel just avoided getting his nose broken a second time.

Right before they followed him, Eli just looked at Daniel for a second. She seemed worried and relieved at the same time. At that short moment, she looked more human.

With a pat on his back, Daniel moved ahead, following the two men, sneaking under the windows, out of sight. The hallway seemed to be getting longer and halfway through, Daniel heard distant noises from where they came from.

“I don’t wanna rush you, but,” Eli said, “we better hurry,” the shouting seemed to be far enough but getting closer with every second. Daniel kept looking behind, making sure no one would take them by surprise, though Eli probably had that covered.

They were almost at the end of the hallway when he heard the ghoul calling him from up ahead. The hallway ended with a turn and a heavy metal door blocking the way.

“Shit,” Daniel said, looking at the strong locks.

There was no way they were getting out of there unless one of the rooms back in the hallway lead somewhere. This was almost the top floor, though. And the voices were getting louder. There was a terminal on the wall but this kind of security…

“I’ll try to crack it,” he holstered his weapon. “But it might take a while,” he walked past York, who was now getting his gun ready.

With a whir, the terminal started, keyboard extended, a greeting flashed on the screen. He looked behind at his companions, exchanged looks with all of them and got to work.

A few taps on the keys opened lines and lines of code. Kind of code Daniel’s never seen before. His eyes were darting through it, reading chunks of it, grabbing what he could to understand anything from it. The shouting was way closer now.

“Any luck?” someone asked, he didn’t catch who.

“Uh…” he hesitated, still looking through the code. A few more clicks, a few typed in words and a new line of code appeared. “Fuck.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Hancock said, looking over Daniel’s shoulder.

“This is heavy stuff,” Daniel kept typing in between words. Good security. Three unsuccessful login attempts disconnect the terminal, no way around that, as far as Daniel knew.

He took a deep breath and started looking through code again, modifying it where he knew it was safe. The voices were clear now, probably on that ramp leading to their floor.

“Get ready,” that was York, he had a commanding tone, just like the kind Daniel would hear in the Brotherhood.

Then, an order to fire and all hell broke loose.

Amidst the chaos, Daniel tried to focus on the terminal, first moving his lips to match his thoughts, then mumbling to himself. Words and symbols scrolled through the screen, fingers tapping vigorously on the keyboard. First attempt. A swear word no one heard. More lines of code. His hands were shaking, palms sweating and he worked so fast he never had time to even blink. Behind his back, shouting, gunshots and his crew getting impatient.

“They’re in the hallway!”

“Reloading!”

No time. Without much more thought, Daniel pressed enter for the second attempt.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Damn it!” he yelled, then resumed writing. Last chance. More carefully this time, as much as he could in these conditions.

“We have no time!”

“Don’t rush me!” he answered whoever that just was. He heard something about the Gunners being way too close and about there being too many of them. He had to shut it out, otherwise he’d never get these doors to open.

His hands were shaking so much that his fingers weren’t landing on the proper keys. Had to keep going back to correct the line he was writing and this time, he wanted to re-read it, make sure it wasn’t going to lock them out. But then, he heard the gunshots right behind the corner and the sound of a buttstock hitting someone’s head. He pressed enter and his heart stopped.

Staring at the screen, every second felt like a minute until the text said ‘unlocking… please wait’. Then the lock clicked.

“I got it, come on!” Daniel yelled, pushing the heavy door open. Eli went in first, Hancock behind her and York shoved Daniel inside along with him.

Bullets bounced off the metal as the two of them pushed it closed, Daniel with his back pressed to it. The damn thing was like a vault door.

When the shooting and banging from the other side stopped, Daniel slid down to the floor, his whole body was shaking now and when he stopped panting, he chuckled. Leaned his head back against the door and exhaled.

Greentech’s ruined lobby and broken walkways did nothing to shake this idea. Eli held onto an automatic rifle, the Red Sox hat turned backwards over the scarf tied around her head; Hancock, a shotgun in his hands, smiled grimly at the scene before them as they progressed.

The dog and Daniel were the only things that kept York grounded, even if it was just a little bit. Dogmeat was real - he had to be, looking like he did - and Daniel… There was no way York could accept that Daniel wasn’t a real person, that he was just some twisted figment of this world. York took the lead without thinking, barely listening to the voice yelling over the intercom.

He caught enough to know that people were coming to them, and when opportunity arose, he shot one straight through the eyes. Didn’t even think about it. A cold sort of thrill was working through his veins, warping the sensation of unreality - he himself felt fake almost, like he was walking through a dream.

Still, the military training made leading his group easy. Head through hallways, check doorways and hiding places before advancing. Shoot those who showed themselves. It wasn’t always him landing the shots; Daniel was good, Eli took out a pair that leapt out of a doorway to their right, Hancock covered them for flankers. Even Dogmeat surged ahead and snapped at legs and hands, distracting the Gunners.

York set his sights on the furthest targets. Lined up headshots if he could. Each one sent a thrill through him. By the time they had to stop, forced to by the presence of turrets up ahead, he was actually annoyed about it. “Can’t believe this,” he muttered. Just around the corner, a turrets whirring motors could be heard. “There’s no telling how many of these bastards are in here and we’re being held up by a fucking turret.”

Across from him, crouched behind an upturned desk, Eli shot him a wary glance. “We could do with a breather, Killian,” she said. “Especially you. Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch you fight right now?”

He shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“You’re ruthless,” she said. “Some of these guys were trying to flee when you gunned them down.”

Daniel had already left, keeping low and slinking around a corner. Something about turning the turret off. York kind of wished he was still here because Daniel wouldn’t talk shit about a couple Gunners’ dying. Dogmeat had gone after him, growling.

York just repeated himself - “Does it matter?”

Hancock was sitting by Eli, shotgun laid over his knees. He chuckled lowly. “Hey, he’s clearin’ the way for us. Doin’ a pretty good job of it.”

“Could be doing better,” York said, “if this turret wasn’t here.” He paused, readjusted his grip on his sniper. “I could just shoot it. That’d solve the issue.”

“You’d get fllled with bullets,” Eli said. She considered him for a moment and York was suddenly very aware of how antsy he was, how his leg was bouncing and his fingers twitched restlessly on his rifle. And then Eli snapped her head to Hancock, saying, “Did you give my brother drugs?”

Hancock grinned. “Who, me? I wouldn’t dare.”

Eli cursed. “What’d you give him?”

“No idea what ya talkin’ about.”

“John.”

Hancock laughed again. “Just a little pick-me-up, beautiful. Nothin’ to worry about.”

“I’m gonna kill you.”

Making their way up through the hallways, they got to the second floor, leaving bodies and empty bullet shells behind for the Gunners’ reinforcements. Not that it would stop them, Daniel knew from experience their commanders were too stupid to have one rational though in their minds.

Now that he thought about it, Daniel was starting to appreciate the company of the ghouls. Especially Hancock watching their backs. That large amount of mercs was pretty unexpected, and for them to know about the Courser? That was just weird. Too bad there wasn’t time to think about it with bullets whizzing through the air right next to Daniel’s ear.

In all that surrounding chaos, the yelling voice in the intercom was especially annoying. Daniel spotted a speaker and fired at it when he found a window between shooting mercs. Didn’t help much, since there were more of those around but it at least gave him a temporary outlet.

Turning into the next hallway, he heard a familiar whirr and a loud beep. Similar to the one in Hangman’s Alley earlier that day.

“Turrets!” he shouted, though it seemed everyone made it into cover right when he signaled the threat. He was at the edge of the wall, the turret managed to notice Daniel’s arm, shot in his direction and he ducked as tiny pieces of debris sprayed from the corner of the wall.

He only heard one turret so far, a makeshift one. Gunners must’ve brought it with them. Though in a building like Greentech, it was odd they haven’t stumbled onto some old, pre-war security systems. Couldn’t be too careful with that stuff. One turret could be easy to shoot down. Maybe. If there were even more, they’d get ripped to shreds.

“Stay here,” he said, “I’ll take care of this.”

There was a room right next to them, only a couple steps away. Luckily, a piece of metal laying on the floor beside a pile of broken concrete. Part of a door maybe. It was rusty and curved and just barely enough to get Daniel across to the other room.

He grabbed the metal scrap and ran out of cover, bullets immediately bouncing off of his shield, the pressure almost throwing it out of his hands. The next few pierced right through it, exactly when Daniel jumped over the doorstep, letting go of the metal piece.

Something then touched Daniel’s leg after he regained balance and he was happy to discover that Dogmeat decided to keep him company.

“Good boy,” he said. “Go there, look for bad guys,” Dogmeat barked in approval and ran ahead, sniffing the floor and looking around. He was smart enough not to get himself into something he couldn’t handle on his own. And Daniel didn’t like surprises.

With his revolver still in his hands, he walked through the trashed office, walking over rubble and knocked over filing cabinets. He passed another door, still hearing the turret ahead of him, so he followed in Dogmeat’s footsteps, walking faster to where he was sure a terminal would be. A couple more office rooms ahead, there it was. One terminal that wasn’t broken. It had keys missing on its keyboard and a rusty frame but nothing Daniel couldn’t handle. The dust has been wiped off the screen, meaning it had to be used recently.

Dogmeat was sniffing around, guarding the place, so Daniel leaned over the terminal and logged into the system.

A standard RobCo one, something he had experience in cracking before. Scrolling down a list of oddly titled files and messages, he found a security application, then typed in a few commands to gain access. There was an option to configure the targeting parameters but it’d take way too long to set it so that the turret would attack Gunners instead of Daniel’s companions. Time wasn’t on their side.

With a few more clicks, the turret lowered its barrel and the whirring had quieted down. Daniel left the terminal, made his way towards the hallway, ready to be out of the room and call for York.

He was just about to take a turn when he felt a sudden, blunt pain in his lower back that made him choke on his breath and stumble, falling to the floor. He looked back, only to see a Gunner rushing at him to deal another blow with a baseball bat he was holding. Daniel braced for the impact when Dogmeat jumped the guy, making him scream in pain as the dog munched on his neck. Daniel reached for his gun and shot him in the guts twice.

“Get off him,” he said, rising to his feet and Dogmeat listened, although a bit hesitantly. The Gunner was still gasping for breath, desperately clawing at his own neck.

Daniel left him there to bleed out. Called Dogmeat to follow and walked out into the hallway.

“What happened?” Eli asked when they regrouped, probably noticed the fresh blood on the dog’s face.

They walked in silence. York was splitting his attention between the map on the Pip Boys screen and scanning the road ahead of him. Daniel was silent; Dogmeat trotted ahead of them, sniffing broken windows and piles of garbage; Hancock, wandering after the dog, was humming to himself, a switchblade spinning between his fingers. Buildings towered over them, broken shattered things. They passed a turn off into a small suburban area and York headed that way, using it as a shortcut.

As they progressed, the beeping quickened. It was annoying but handy, so York followed the noise until a large, green building rose out of the others. They were still a couple blocks from it when York stopped. He considered it with a frown before switching the station on the Pip Boy off that infernal beeping.

“Oh, lovely,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “Greentech looks friendly.” He had never been in the damn building before the bombs, had no idea what they did in it. Somehow, in the wasteland, it was an imposing figure. He could only imagine who was inside the place. Other than the Courser, of course.

“You ready to catch a Courser?” Hancock had popped up beside him, slapping a hand on his shoulder. He grinned, teeth yellowed and black eyes gleaming.

York shrugged his hand off. “Almost.” He glanced over his shoulder at Daniel - Dogmeat was standing at the guy’s side, staring at York as if waiting for direction. “You ready for this?” he asked.

No matter the answer, they had to go there - but before that, York shoved his hand in his pocket, fingers wrapping around the syringe Hancock had given him earlier. He hadn’t wanted to take something like it before they got here and he wasn’t too keen on taking a drug in front of Eli’s judgement. He withdrew the syringe, turning it over in his hands. Hancock said, “Better take that now. Eli’s on her way.”

York glanced up again. Sure enough, Eli was walking down the hallway toward them. He cursed, turning on his heels to face Daniel instead of her. He shoved the sleeve of his jacket up, looking down at his arm as he lined it up - and then he offered Daniel a smirk, rain causing his shades to slide down his nose. “Nothin’ like drugs to get the party going.”

Goddamn, he was nervous suddenly. The Courser, Daniel’s steady but unamused gaze, Eli… Way too much shit. Maybe the drugs, whatever it was, would take that away.

So that was the easy part. Greentech Genetics. A tall, massive building that was now covered by a thick fog. An old, insignificant remnant of the times before the Great War. This is what was left of it. A ruin like everything else.

Daniel’s eyes moved from the structure to York, who was now facing him and struggling to get the needle in. He took the man’s arm and the syringe from him, lined it up to where he assumed a vein was and pushed carefully, wary of York’s ghoul sister approaching.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said to York, noticing a slight grimace of pain on his face. He threw the empty syringe away, right before Eli had a chance to notice anything.

When York was pulling his sleeve down, Daniel was already making his way to the door. No point delaying any further with useless pleasantries.

The door was unlocked but heavy. Rust keeping it from sliding properly.

“Anyone gonna help me with this or what?” Daniel said and immediately, Hancock was at his side, helping to open the old thing.

It gave way then and Daniel heard the two siblings behind him ready their guns. They were gonna need them, it seemed, as the first thing that greeted them was a bloody corpse of a mercenary. Daniel took his revolver out, just in case, as they moved further inside, slowly and quietly. Discovering only more bodies on their way.

The space was some kind of lobby, didn’t look entirely abandoned. Trashed, from whatever went down before their arrival. Couldn’t have been that long ago, either.

“It’s too quiet,” Daniel whispered. More to himself than to anyone else but he heard York give a short, approving hum. He pointed the rest of his group to a staircase, a purely military gesture, and took the lead from there.

The rest followed and for once, Daniel was happy to stay behind. Debris was blocking the rest of the staircase, so they went up only to a balcony overlooking the lobby and leading to another open area when the silence was broken by a voice on the speakers.

“The Courser’s on the second floor. Kill on sight. Send reinforcement to the Lobby in case there are more,” they weren’t the only ones looking for the Courser.

Daniel noticed laser rifle beams behind a window on one of the upper levels inside the bright, open area which turned out to be an atrium. Then, shots got louder behind the doors ahead and Daniel, along with his other companions, jumped behind cover.

Before a gunner could even peek out the doorway, his head was blown off, brains splattered on the surrounding walls. His friend met a similar end, Daniel’s doing this time.

“No one knows how dangerous this thing is,” he said, quoting what Eli had said to him. “Having backup is never a bad thing, especially if some angry fake person is trying to rip my head off.”

He thought about mentioning how he wasn’t required to tell Daniel anything at all. York could do whatever he wanted and drag Daniel along for the ride, but he chose to include a friend in what he was up to. He didn’t say any of it because pissing off Daniel would help no one. Instead he surged forward and caught up to Hancock. The ghoul was digging through the pockets of his old frayed coat.

“Hey, man,” he said, glancing up. “Thought we could have a treat before Eli shows up.”

York raised his eyebrows. “A treat?” Hancock offered a smug grin, holding up one hand. A syringe was clasped in his fingers, old twine wrapping around the device it connected to.

“Yeah. Want it? Not my kinda thing, but I figured if we’re gonna take out a Courser, someone might have a use for it.” York considered the drug held out to him, and then reached forward to take it.

“Sure.” Why not?

Must’ve been something more on York’s mind, seeing as he left Daniel’s side to join the ghoul instead. At first, he wasn’t pleased, reached into his back pocket with an unsteady hand, getting his pack of cigarettes. Watched the two men ahead of him exchanging something, couldn’t see what. Right now, he didn’t care.

As the heavy smoke coated his lungs, he thought, maybe it was for the better. Maybe today wasn’t the day he could tolerate York’s bullshit.

At least the rain was masking the awful ghoul stench, the sound of his voice and the laughter he shared with York. Not even halfway at their spot, Daniel was already eager to get into a fight.

A minute later, a drop fell down from his hood, past his chest, landing straight on Daniel’s cigarette and putting it out.

He muttered a curse under his nose as he threw away the cigarette. A comfort so quickly taken away. He spent the rest of their way with hands inside the pockets of his jacket, thinking only about getting the chip. Seemed to help him focus. At least for a while. When they made a turn, the radio attached to his backpack started crackling.

So did York’s Pipboy, as it turned out when Daniel walked up to his companions. With nothing but fog around them he looked at the man.

“Is this the place?” he asked, disoriented by the surrounding nothingness, reaching for his own radio and tuning it to the channel provided by Virgil. York was the only one who had a map.

White noise merged with voices and distorted songs from different radio stations, followed by more white noise.

The ghoul seemed uninterested, instead, he was looking around, searching something where there was nothing to see, somehow not discouraged by the fact. That went on until Daniel’s radio beeped. Once, then again a couple seconds later.

It was only a few seconds, but it stretched on. York heard and felt the rain dropping and paid it little attention. He swung his rifle from Daniel to the figure ahead and didn't move.

Until Daniel whistled for him.

After a brief hesitation, York lowered his rifle and strode across the bridge. His curiosity rose as he did, and then he smiled. By Daniel's side, he swung the sniper over his shoulder to rest alongside his pack. “Hancock!” he said.

The ghoul met his gaze with a lazy grin. “Hey. Your friend's a bit violent. Wanted to shoot me. What kinda guy you hangin’ out with?”

York eyed Daniel, his smile growing. “I think he just hates the rain.” Really, York was aware of his companions dislike of ghouls but he wasn't going to throw the information out there. “Where's Eli? Thought she was coming with you.”

Hancock shrugged. “Might meet us there. Said she had some friends to talk to first.”

“Could've warned me,” York said. He sighed, then clapped a hand on Daniel's shoulder. “Well. Let’s head out, yeah?”

Dead eyes, scorched with radiation glimmered at York, assuming trust from the man. Trust that should not yet be earned. Something Daniel himself apparently didn’t deserve.

There was no single movement or word from the ghoul that would go unnoticed by Daniel today. He tensed at the sudden weight on his shoulder and glanced at the hand resting on it.

Moving the scrutinizing gaze to the ghoul, he said, “after you,” a forced smile painting on his face. Hancock nodded and set on the way.

Daniel turned, gripped York’s wrist to remove the hand and tightened his fingers around it, the fake smile now turning into a frown.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” he hissed through his teeth, letting go of York’s hand. “This better be the last and only time you hide plans from me,” he stared at the other man’s face, looking for emotion somewhere besides the concealed eyes.

The closer him and York were, the more Daniel questioned the relation between them. And the more he found himself questioning it, the more he was starting to realize it wasn’t something he’d easily let go of.

And that only meant he was going to have to. More sooner than later.

He took a step back, and turned to follow the ghoul to where their courser was supposed to be found.

As he walked, he plucked his shades from his shirt, checked for rain drops, and slid them on. Maybe not the best thing to wear in the rain - the world dimmed a bit when he viewed it behind the shades, making the rainsoaked clouds darker and the shadows a touch deeper. That didn’t mean he was going to go without them, though.

“So,” he started, “I hope you know the place we’re headed to.” They had left the settlement by now, the gate to the place being locked back by its one sole guard. York scanned the road ahead of them as he talked, looking for raiders or mutants. “I gathered its in Cambridge.”

Cambridge was a big place, though. Lots of buildings. Lots of places for a Courser to be hiding or attacking or doing whatever. York considered this, sliding the sniper from his shoulder into his hands. Just in case.

The bridge over to Cambridge was just ahead, a portion of it raised up and frozen over a crashed ship. Last York had heard, the raiders staying there had been cleared out by a roving band of Preston’s Minutemen. Awfully nice of them. Now he didn’t have to kill them.

Three steps onto the bridge, he paused. A figure was lounging on part of the bridge that was over the ship. York sighed. “Guns ready,” he said. “I may spy a raider.”

“More or less,” Daniel answered as they passed through the gate, the rickety turrets humming on their posts, pointing their barrels at any moving target. “I’ve been there before, it’s just ruins,” he said.

The Commonwealth Institute of Technology was a good start, though if their headquarters were somewhere in there, it wouldn’t make much sense for their courser to operate so close to it. Maybe they weren’t as smart as people said they were and this whole thing could turn out easier than expected.

“We came there with a scouting party, long time ago. Place was full of mutants and nothing interesting inside. Command told us to leave it alone,” back then, the Brotherhood was running low on soldiers. Now, though, with the Prydwen, getting rid of those assholes couldn’t be any easier.

Their last encounter with mutants didn’t end that well. Daniel was still noticing the grimace on York’s face every time he touched something with his back.

He didn’t respond, so Daniel added, “they might still be there.”

When they approached the bridge, Daniel’s clothes were completely soaked, the clouds didn’t seem to be going away anytime soon.

He stopped when York did, reached for the gun holstered on his hip.

“Cover me, I’ll check it out,” he whispered, then moved up the bridge slowly. The rain was obscuring the vision but the thick drops hitting against the concrete were loud enough to cover the sound of footsteps.

Inch by inch, the figure’s shape was starting to get clearer, the hat it was wearing, especially, all too familiar.

Without taking his sights off the person, Daniel said, “Hancock?” Once he turned around, there was no doubt.

“Fuck, you scared me,” the ghoul said, without sounding even somewhat startled.

“Great. Should’ve shot you the moment we saw you,” Daniel lowered his gun and whistled to signal York.

Except the other side of the bed was cool where it should have been warm. And the comforting presence of a dog lying at the foot of the bed was gone too. Dogmeat was not surprising - most days, the animal woke up before York, after all - but Daniel’s absence was. Daniel was supposed to lie in bed until York bothered to move or still be asleep when York woke up.

He was fairly certain that was how it went. Definitely not just his sleep addled brain making him clingier than usual.

Regardless, without his usual companions there to lull him back to sleep, York was stuck being awake. There was a steady plip sound of raindrops falling against the wooden floor of the shack and the longer he listened to it, the more it bothered him. The people living here should have long since figured out how to patch up a roof. York wasn’t a roofer, he couldn’t do that for them.

Wouldn’t stop him from hauling himself up there next time it was sunny, though. Maybe he could get a message up to Sanctuary, have Sturgess come out here. If that man could fix up those houses, he could do much better with these shacks than York could ever dream of doing himself.

He was mentally writing a note his head when he sighed, rolling over his back. There was no getting back to sleep now, he thought, stretching. He left the empty bed to get dressed, cast a look at the mussed sheets before shrugging. His pack was at the foot of the bed, sniper set against it, and he picked up all of it before leaving the room.

It wasn’t too hard to find Daniel since most of the settlers here were either indoors or down below, where the many levels of rickety shacks shielded them from rainfall. Daniel was in a corner, cigarette to his lips.

York raised his brows. His shades were currently hanging from his shirt collar because the rain was annoying to constantly clean off the things. He’d probably don them before they left, though. Either then or before they took down the Courser.

Which was today’s lovely task. A large part of him wanted to sleep in anyway. Just drag Daniel back inside and curl up. The other part of him knew that wouldn’t be a smart move. Daniel only seemed to tolerate that bullshit at night when he was likely too tired to put up much of a fight.

Also. There was work to be done. A mission. And damn if years of military didn’t wire York to be ready to go in minutes. “Hey,” he said once he was close enough. “Let’s get something to eat. Get outta here.”

Finally, there was the sound of York’s footsteps coming down the stairs. Seeing him would be much more pleasant if it didn’t mean having to go out into that cold, harsh rain. Daniel wasn’t going to drag it out, though. He took one last puff of his cigarette and threw it out into a puddle.

“No time,” he said, shaking his head and grabbing his backpack. “You’ll eat on the way,” packing some snacks and military rations was proving to be a good idea already.

Besides, what could there be to eat in this place? Roasted rats and cat tails? Maybe another time. Or never.

Sure, Daniel’s been to worse places in the past but somehow feel wasn’t feeling very nostalgic about their cuisine. He remembered a diner in the middle of nowhere. The fact it was surrounded by barren wasteland should’ve been enough to pass that place. Besides the rotten vegetables, raw plants and dog food, the most revolting thing must’ve been the coffee that was mixed with dirt.

Back then, even that could be enough. Just the bare minimum to get through the day.

Travelling with York has spoiled him.

Daniel pulled his hood on and looked at York, surprised at the lack of sunglasses covering his eyes. The man wore them even to sleep.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

It was a cold, rainy morning. The kind that was perfect for staying inside all day. Though the shacks in Hangman’s Alley were successfully discouraging that. For a small settlement like this, it seemed fairly busy. Turrets set up on platforms attached to still standing walls were whirring as they waited for targets to shoot. Guards keeping to their outposts and on the lower levels, below the residential shacks, trade was going well as anywhere else.

With dark bags under his eyes and a hood over his head, Daniel stood in one dry corner, smoking a cigarette he managed to light only on his third try. A backpack resting against the wall, packed with all the necessities.

Hangman’s Alley was a shithole but it was just across the bridge to get to where they needed. And because of the leaking roof, for once, York being all clingy turned out to be a good thing, the shared body heat was appreciated.

Daniel could barely remember the last time he had to untangle himself from someone’s arms to get out of bed. Someone besides York. Someone way different. He was pretty sure he told York about that person when they were both drinking on the roof in Goodneighbor a couple days ago.