Fallout 4: AR

58. Third Time's the Charm

"That's great, Sturges!" I complimented. "You're a mechanical genius, you know."

"Aww, shucks, Lady." He shrugged bashfully, a light blush coloring his smiling face. "I'm just a tinkerer, a fixer."

"And the Commonwealth needs people like you more and more. Just imagine if everyone could live in a community like this one." I waved in the direction of the residential houses. "Sturdy walls, a bed to sleep in... a sound roof? It's people like you who can bring true civilization back to the citizens." I sighed wistfully, taking in the purposeful atmosphere of the place. "Sanctuary is the epitome of what we can do if we work together."

Sturges had stopped in the middle of the path. Slowly, he turned to take in all of the improvements, and I figured he was just now realizing how much of a difference little changes could make. "Wow, Lady," he said with a note of awe in his voice. "I guess I never saw it. It all adds up after a while, huh? Thanks!" He pulled his elbow free to drape his arm across my shoulders in a one-armed hug.

We walked along in silence, Sturges keeping his arm across my shoulders. I was privately impressed that he didn't even seem to notice the weight of our packs, and the supplies inside. And he's carrying both of them on one arm. Sheesh. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore, and reached out to try and grab one. "Here, at least let me carry one of those."

"Naw, Lady," he declined, holding his arm out of my reach. Hefting the packs a little, he commented genially, "Got everything but the kitchen sink in these?"

"Kind of," I admitted ruefully. "It's tough living out of a backpack."

"I may be able to fix that for you," he said, his voice sounding suddenly odd to my ears, a very different tone from his hearty drawl, almost gentle. "Here's let's take a quick detour."

We angled down the street towards the very first house the Minutemen had occupied after the rescue from Concord. It was the same one where I had left the set of power armor after the fusion core drained out. The yellow house had been fixed up tight, sturdy walls showing not a hole or crack, the roof looking almost new. The garage bay where the power armor stand lay had been expanded, and was surrounded by a variety of workstations, most with projects in varying states of completion. Sturges led me to the center of the bay, indicating I should stay put for a moment. He went inside the dwelling, returning a moment later sans packs, but with a couple of cans of purified water.

"This is my place," he informed me proudly, handing me one of the cans to my immense gratitude and thanks. "I was able to cobble together a bunch of workbenches to tackle just about anything the residents need." Slinging his arm around my shoulders again, he guided me around the workshop, happily showing off the equipment and projects one by one. I responded with appropriate comments, being able to recognize a good tool setup from my own repair experience. "It's nice to show this to someone who can appreciate the importance of proper tools," he said, a tender smile on his face. "There aren't many of us in the hammer-and-nails club, you know."

"Too busy trying to stay alive, I guess." I nodded in understanding. "What's a couple of leaks in the roof when your leg's broken and you desperately need a stimpak?" The arm around my shoulders tightened in sympathy and I leaned into his friendly embrace. "Sorry, Sturges, I'm just..." feeling like my life is still out of my hands... like I just want to curl up and hide. Like I'm running in place, going nowhere.

"Naw, I get it." he replied hearteningly. "It's one tough life out there. S'why you see me here. I'm no fighter." With a light escorting tug, he led me inside to give me a tour of his abode.

The inside of the house served as a complete dichotomy to the organized chaos of the workshop. Clean and stark, it appeared that Sturges spent very little time in his own dwelling. Probably only comes in here to sleep, I thought. I'm sure he's working every moment he's awake. He may not be fighting anything, but he's busier than any three Wasteland survivors from the look of the workbenches.