Rehabilitation [Fallout 4, Another Way Series Pt 1]

Chapter 8

"Use your words, Deacon!" she countered, sitting up straight and putting her legs over the side of the bed. "You're good at that. I reasoned with Maxson once. It can be done. They're not just animals looking to kill anyone who's different. They believe in their cause as much as you do!"

"At what cost?!" he said, showing more emotion than she had ever seen of him. She hated it. The dark lenses hid the sight of his anger but his voice compensated. "Innocent people are being murdered on the mere suspicion of being synthetic!" He stopped short to calm himself and to slow his breath. Something about these words clipped at his heart's every vessel. Turning his back to her, he cursed and made a waving motion as if to fan away her judgement.

She stood and moved closer to him. "If you won't see reason, you're no better than Maxson."

When he wouldn't respond, she grabbed his shoulder in her anger to force him around. He pivoted back to her and seized her wrists. They were closer than she felt comfortable. She tried to pull her hands away, and in his movement to prevent it, his sunglasses had fallen down the bridge of his nose. He had her hands tighter than he realized. More than his grip, his eyes cut into her. She had not once glimpsed the blue eyes that were now piercing through hers. There was immense anger in them— anger about the Brotherhood, anger about her and Danse. But something else lingered too, like the thick air between their faces. He searched her eyes and her lips for a twinge of longing— anything that minutely asked him to come closer. He found nothing.

Tears welled in her eyes, which only made him angrier because he couldn't be the one to wipe them away. His chest was on fire as he imagined it but he ultimately knew it couldn't be him to touch her and take away her pain.

"Deacon, let go," she said sternly. He blinked hard and suddenly released her.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "Shit, I'm sorry, Nora." He put his hands back out to help her but she pulled away. She wasn't angry. If being around Danse or Deacon had taught her anything, it was how to control her feelings and talk about the important things at hand.

"Deacon." Her saying his name only stirred the negative emotions he was trying to stifle. He wanted her saying it every day but with a smile, not the tears that had started. "Talk to Dez. There's been enough bloodshed. Don't dirty your hands with any more."

"I'm sorry," he repeated. After adjusting his sunglasses, he left her. She soon heard his footsteps on the upper level, followed by the closing of an exterior door. Nora sighed and looked around her bunk. She took a pen and notepad from her footlocker.

The next day, Deacon was absent from the safehouse. Desdemona asked after him but Nora had no information to give beyond his leaving the night before, which she didn't mention. All day, Nora sat eagerly watching the cellar door for Glory and Danse. She hardly ate at communal meals and said nothing to anyone. Drummer Boy poured her a drink, one thing she would always interact with. She thanked him and he left her to her thoughts. Her hands were idle all day. Her cross-stitch tools were under her bunk, packed in her bags, along with everything else she and Danse owned.

The safehouse was quiet by midnight. Most were in bed, P.A.M. had shut down, Tom's radio played gentle classical music, and the soft sound of guards' footsteps roamed upstairs. When it was more morning than night, the chain on the cellar door rattled. Nora leaped from the red lounge chair and ran to her bunk, shaking off the sleep that had started to overcome her. Glory and Danse descended the stairs.

Nora sat on her bed, listening for Glory to wish Danse goodnight and for the creak of her bed in the near-silent safehouse. Danse approached the nook with his and Nora's bunks. He wasn't surprised to see her awake. They would stay up later than most some nights as she would pet the back of his hands while telling him things about her past, or he would kiss behind her ears as she sat reading an Old World novel. Tonight, however, her eyes were solemn and her arms held two backpacks. He immediately understood.

With all the confidence that they had been ordered to do so, the pair crossed the safehouse and went up the cellar stairs, unlocking and relocking the metal hatch as they stepped into the alley. The night's cold was refreshing. Nora gripped the straps of her backpack and adjusted Danse's jacket zipper for him. He nodded, ready for whatever lie ahead.

"Heading to the store? You didn't check if we were out of milk."

Nora's heart skipped a beat. She turned to see Deacon leaning on the brick wall of the alleyway, arms and ankles crossed.

"Deacon," Nora said in calm surprise. "We..."

"It's okay," he said, cool as usual. The Railroad agent approached Danse.

"Take good care of her, Mike. I know you will." He extended a hand, which Danse took and shook slowly. The two men's eyes met and soft smiles were on their faces.

Deacon turned to Nora and offered his hand. She ignored it and hugged him. In his surprised, it took a moment for his arms to find their way around her, though not tightly.

"We'll... find another way," he said.

She released him and glistening eyes met his lenses. "Thank you, Deacon. Thank you for everything." They smiled at one another with closed lips. "There's a letter waiting for Dez inside. It has everything I know about the Institute." She looked to Danse. "We've decided to leave the Commonwealth together. Maybe we'll stumble across the Railroad out there."

"Maybe," Deacon said, hopeful that the two extremely capable persons before him could help his cause yet. "Now get out of here, you two! If Dez finds out you broke curfew, she'll have you doing dishes for a week."

Nora smiled at her friend, then turned to Danse who took her by the hand and gave Deacon a casual two-finger salute over his shoulder. Deacon reciprocated the motion. The companions left the alley for a life beyond the Commonwealth.

Deacon opened his jacket and examined the yellow patch inside.