Nora tromped slowly up the hill leading to the former Red Rocket gas station that had become her refuge and impromptu headquarters. She was following Paladin Danse, their two sets of power armor whirring and clanking up the street surrounded by deserted houses downhill from her goal. It had been nearly a week this time. Six days of Brotherhood missions; six days of being in power armor. God, she was tired. And bruised. And her armor had a jagged spur that was digging very painfully into her lower back at every move. Almost there, she thought, just a little farther. Danse turned around at her unsteady, slowing gait.
"Come on, Soldier," he encouraged, "you've got the determination. Do the Brotherhood proud." His tone was actually... gentle? Maybe not gentle, per se, but certainly gently understanding. Nora was briefly touched. Danse was single-minded in his dedication to the Brotherhood of Steel, to the point of pushing them both to the edges of their ability and strength. Since becoming her mentor, he had seemingly made it his personal mission to make her into the paragon of a Brotherhood Knight, to her private dismay. She joined the Brotherhood for her own reasons. They had technology, information, and manpower, and she needed all three in the search to find the Institute, and her son. While Danse was generally likable, and the combat training was appreciated, she sometimes wanted to smack the ever-living crap out of him for his overweening I'm-your-superior-officer attitude. It made working with him so much more difficult when he acted like they were on a critical mission all the time.
She huffed a very unladylike snort, not bothering to reply, putting all effort into forcing her battered power armor into a faster stride. The barest hint of a smile teased the corner of Danse's lips, and he turned around to take the lead again, walking a little more slowly this time. Nora's eyebrows raised in surprise. Huh, she thought, he has a sense of humor after all. Who'd have thought?
They crested the hill, rounding the corner of the rather impressive community dwelling built to house the residents of the Red Rocket settlement. Nora found a hidden reserve of energy and strode forward, ignoring the pain of her body, the sharp digging of that damn spur into her back. She made a beeline for the garage door on the side of the former gas station. Danse wisely moved aside to let her pass, keeping any commentary he may have had to himself. Before Nora could pound on the door, the motor whirred to life, raising the corrugated panels all too slowly for her liking. Piper had opened the door, cheery greeting dying on her lips, and her mouth dropped open in shock at the sight of Nora...or more appropriately, at the state of Nora's power armor. Damn, I guess it looks worse than I thought.
This last mission had been difficult. She and Danse had been tasked to take out a nest of Super Mutants to recover information needed by the Brotherhood Scribes. They accompanied one of the Scribes to the location as a protective detail. Danse was an excellent fighter, and wore his armor like a second skin, making him a truly formidable opponent. He took point, the Scribe following him closely. Nora had gotten much better at fighting during her time in the Commonwealth, and was tasked to keep an eye on their rear. The location was a maze of rubble and destruction. They got trapped in a dead-end and ambushed. Being rear-guard, Nora made a good showing of her growing skill by taking out the first wave single-handedly. Unfortunately, their intel was incomplete and there were nearly four times as many Super Mutants as had been reported. They just kept coming, wave after wave. Danse had done his best to draw their attention when her ammunition ran out, but her armor had been decimated by the final wave of Super Mutants who surrounded her and furiously battered the protective plating to shreds....literally. They had also damaged the frame with their super-sledgehammers, creasing it in several places, and creating the spur that was cutting into her back. It had been a close call, and she was lucky Danse was able to dispatch the Super Mutants while they were distracted. After they secured the information needed, the Scribe tagging along with them had departed on a vertibird for the Prydwen, and she adamantly insisted that they instead return to Red Rocket right damn now. Danse had simply started marching back.
As her eyes adjusted to the dim interior, she counted three forms within. Piper, next to the door control, was still frozen in stunned surprise. Behind her, hands on hips, stood Cait, eyes flicking from Nora to Danse's immaculate armor, and back again. She raised an eyebrow, that one move speaking volumes. In the back of the room, casually leaning against the armor station, ostensibly cleaning his fingernails with a wicked combat knife, was MacCready. He was very carefully not looking at her, concentrating on the knife. Nora's heart lifted. Of course he's here. Grateful the helmet obscured her face, she took a moment and filled her eyes with the sight of him. Mac.
Ever since they paired up, Nora and MacCready had decided to keep their relationship private. Nora was trying to balance being a representative member of three different factions who were rarely on the best of terms. She was the General of the Minutemen, a Knight of the Brotherhood of Steel, and an Agent of the Railroad, as well as the unlikely friend of several other prominent Commonwealth citizens who looked up to her for reasons she still didn't quite understand. She tried to be fair and as kind as she could in this changed world. On the other hand, MacCready was "only" a bitter former Gunner mercenary of formidable fighting renown; known mostly for his sharp sarcastic wit, love of caps, and not much else. Very, very few people had even bothered to try and look behind that hardened, prickly exterior; and only Nora had discovered the heart of his beautiful, loving soul hidden deeply inside. To the outsider, their relationship looked unlikely, even impossible. She doubted anyone would really understand their attachment, and honestly, it was none of their business anyway. Especially if they don't even bother trying to get to know him, she mused. Some would think she'd be better off with someone... anyone... else. The misunderstanding would just cause problems unnecessary for the fragile camaraderie at Red Rocket. The fewer complications, fewer personality conflicts, less overall drama, the better for everyone.... she hoped.
"Geez, Blue, what happened to you?" Piper exclaimed, finally finding her voice.
At this comment, MacCready finally looked up. His gaze swept across her battered armor as he sheathed the combat knife and stood upright. His eyes narrowed slightly, and his lips pressed together in a slight frown, but he made no comment, stepping away from the armor station.
Danse tried to explain in his pedantic way. "We ran into some tough resistance on our last mission..."
"Save it, Danse," Piper retorted, flapping one hand at the surprised Paladin to shoo him away. "Yeesh. Nora, get over there and get out of that thing."
Nora didn't need a second invitation. She clanked painfully inside, making for the power armor station. Piper hit the button to close the scrolling door on the motionless Danse. "Just go report to Hancock, or Garvey when he gets back with Valentine, or go do something useful," Piper admonished, "We don't need you here." Heavy steps faded away as the door closed completely. "He's... he's so... ugh!"
"He's a complete git at times" offered Cait. "I don't care how pretty he is in that shiny suit." An amused snicker from MacCready echoed that sentiment.
Nora sighed. "Danse is..." she offered soothingly, "a good fighter, very dedicated to the Brotherhood. And a member of this unlikely, and very dysfunctional... family." Her voice faltered at the last word; she was trying so hard. The inevitable ruffling of feathers begins again. "Look, I'm tired. I just want to get out of this thing and get clean. Can we save the verbal backstabbing for later?"
"Fine, but he's still a git" Cait groused.
"Piper, where are Preston and Nick, anyway? You said 'when they get back'?" Nora asked as she removed the storage pack attached to her backplate, tossing it lightly onto the workbench. She maneuvered the power armor under the overhanging arms of the repair station in preparation to exit. "Where did they go?"
"This is Garvey we're talking about," Piper began, "where do you think?"
All three voices chimed in at this prompt, a sing-song refrain they'd all heard way too often, "Another settlement needs our help." Nora groaned inwardly as Piper continued. "You and Danse were way overdue, and we didn't know when you were going to be back. Preston grabbed Nick to go see what was going on and lend a hand. They're actually due back any time now. We thought you were them until we heard the stomping of your power armor."
Nora paused in hitting the release button, turning her head to face Piper. "Wait, what? I told Proctor Quinlan to get a message to you that we had been tasked with an emergency mission and would be an extra day or two getting back." Her voice hardened. "He never told you?" Damn them, she thought, fatigue causing her to lose a grip on her temper, that was part of the deal I made! When I go on Brotherhood missions, Hancock and Garvey are to be kept informed!
"No," muttered MacCready to her right. "Apparently us civilians aren't trustworthy or something." His voice was tight with emotion, and Nora hoped he had a better hold on his temper than she did right now. She was so tired.
"All right, I will deal with it...tomorrow." She sighed heavily. "Tonight, I am going to get clean, get changed out of this godawful Brotherhood uniform, and relax." Twin nods from Cait and MacCready as they stationed themselves on either side of her power armor to help her down. Piper snorted and muttered, not quite under her breath, "Good luck with that, Blue."
Finally. Nora hit the exit button and immediately bit back an exclamation of pain as the panels of the power armor opened out and up. The jagged spur that had been gouging her lower back and left side of her spine tore free, breaking open the half-healed scabs that had formed around the metal. A rush of warmth blossomed around the frayed orange Brotherhood uniform. She staggered back, seeing sparkling fireworks in her vision.
Cait caught her left arm, MacCready her right and they helped her step down to the concrete floor. "Shite!"Cait exclaimed as she noticed the fresh blood, "how long has that been goin' on?"
"Just... happened..." Nora gasped. She slumped heavily into MacCready's support, sinking to one knee and letting go of Cait to place her palm flat on the ground. MacCready shifted his grip on her arm to steady her with both hands. She gratefully leaned into his strength as he subtly gave her a reassuring double-squeeze. I've got you, it said.
"Can't bullshit me, luv," admonished Cait, "I've seen my share of cuts, and that's been digging in for a while, I'd say." She gently picked at the torn fabric, letting out a low whistle to accompany Nora's hiss of pain. "Broke open again just now, but that might be good. You need to get that cleaned out. That damned suit is all scabbed in there."
Piper came over next to Cait brandishing a pair of sturdy scissors. "Looks like we'll have to cut you out of that thing, Blue." She gestured to the interior doorway. "Girls' only time! MacCready, go get Curie. We're going to need her help."
MacCready hesitated for a second. "I'm not your errand boy," he retorted sullenly.
Cait answered him with a growl as she took Piper's scissors and got to work. "Look here, handsome. Nora's getting out of that uniform as soon as I can cut around this goddamned scab. She's gonna need medical attention, and Curie's the best we got. We don't need any men in here makin' things awkward. Go. Get. Curie." She made an abortive stabbing motion at the sniper with the scissors. "Out!" she demanded.
Nora met MacCready's eyes with a pleading expression, her face hidden from the others. At this, he reluctantly relented, gently releasing Nora's arm with another quick squeeze of his fingers. "Fine," he snapped gracelessly at Cait, rising swiftly to his feet and practically stomping away with an angry set to his shoulders. Piper followed him to the doorway, taking up a guard stance to prevent anyone unauthorized from entering.
Now that their privacy was assured, Cait got to work cutting the uniform away from the scabbed wound. Nora stripped down to just below her waist, tying the remnants of the orange sleeves around her hips. Cait was surprisingly gentle as she trimmed the frayed edges, waiting for Curie to show. "Guess it was pretty bad, huh?" she remarked casually.
"Super Mutants." Nora explained. The pain still throbbed deep in her back, but it was bearable now. "They cornered and ambushed us. I just happened to be the closest." From the doorway, Piper let out a low whistle in sympathy. "Yeah. Don't blame Danse, though. He was given bad information, but managed to keep us all alive despite that....extra resistance." She arched her back tentatively, trying to feel the extent of her injury.
"Stop wiggling, you'll make it worse," Cait admonished. She finished up with the scissors just as Curie rushed in, breezing past Piper, medkit in hand. Cait backed up and took a seat on the workbench, idly swinging her legs. "Bad info, huh? Now why don't I quite believe that?" She would have continued, but Curie took control of the scene.
"Oh, Madame! You are wounded!" Curie went straight to work, the crisp snap of medkit latches signaling the beginning of her ministrations. "Just stay like that, on your knees. We need to clean this out, quite thoroughly, or risk infection." Curie cracked open a can of purified water, drenched a small cloth, and got to work gently softening the fabric-encrusted scab. "My apologies! This may take some time."
"S'fine," Nora stammered out, biting down on the urge to whimper in pain. "Do what you have to." She submitted to the treatment, closing her eyes, taking slow breaths, and ignoring the chatter around her. Cait and Piper were apparently dissecting her terse explanation. She was too tired to care. She wanted a bath, some time alone with MacCready, and a nice, long sleep. The first cloth, stained red, was abandoned on the floor as Curie started another round of scab softening.
A short while later Piper announced from the doorway. "Garvey and Valentine are back! But don't worry, Blue, I won't let them in here. Danse can report on his own. Oh, and Codsworth is heating water for a bath."
"Yes!" beamed Curie, "I asked him to." A new cloth, a new can of purified water, and more gentle scrubbing. There was a small pile of bloodied fabric forming next to Nora's leg.
"Curie, you are an angel descended from Heaven itself," Nora declared. A bath, a real bath.
"I am merely a scientist from Vault 81, madame," she replied in a puzzled tone. Cait and Piper both laughed. "Anyway, I believe you are ready to have that wound tended properly. Let us start with a Stimpak, then I can seal and dress the open wound until it closes." She suited action to words and Nora felt the familiar pinch and spread of cool healing down her back to soothe away the pain. The drug's energy boosting ability and subsequent release from agony helped stave off her fatigue as well, at least for the moment. "Now a Med-X." The painkiller went down with a swig of water. "Please remain still, madame, while I seal this up, then you can go bathe. Carefully." She added sternly, "and no strenuous activity until the flesh is healed! The Stimpak will speed things up, but you will need to sleep to recover fully." Nora obliged, glad this was nearly over.
In less time than it took to clean the wound, it was patched and sealed with a water resistant bandage. Curie waved her off to take her bath and started meticulously repacking her medkit. Nora gratefully staggered to her feet and towards the small doorway leading to the interior of the Red Rocket garage. One of the more recent improvements was an honest-to-goodness bathroom in the middle section. It wasn't elegant, it wasn't even pretty, but it had a plumbed sink, toilet, and bathtub; and storage for accessories. She weaved between the makeshift privacy barriers, peeling off the ruined Brotherhood uniform and discarding it on the floor.
Her old vault suit lay neatly folded on the towel chest in the corner, a 10mm pistol weighing down the blue fabric. Her boots were propped against the wall. Gently steaming water greeted her, beckoning like an answered dream. With a groan of pleasure, she sank into the deliciously warm water, trusting Curie's handiwork to hold up against a good soak. Hot water. Soap. She attacked the dirt and sweat, working methodically top to toes. And I'm finally out of that damn power armor. Six days is too long, I don't know how Danse does it, living in that tin can day in and day out. Her inner monologue stilled as she luxuriated in the glory of getting clean. Outside, the sounds of activity echoed into the chamber. She idly took it in until--
"Danse!" It was MacCready's melodic light baritone, voice ringing clearly off the old gas station overhang, and he sounded furious. Ohno. Nora sped up her motions, scrubbing harder at the ingrained dirt, a burst of adrenaline hastening her movements, waking her up from her languor.
"That's Paladin Danse to you, civilian." The reply was aloof, formal.
"I don't care if you call yourself Queen of the Bloatflies! We're going to have a little talk; right here, right now!" Sounds of footsteps, several sets. Nora closed her eyes to listen better as she tried to rinse off as quietly as possible. MacCready's voice continued, still angry. "What the hell is the Brotherhood pulling with a stunt like that? Are you trying to get the one person who can keep things together around here killed?"
"Hold on a second," a raspy tenor spoke up. Hancock. "What is he talking about?" Minor scuffling, a slight grunt of disgust. "What happened?"
"I don't answer to you, freak."Danse had reverted to full Brotherhood mode. Nora could just picture him raising up to his full power armor-enhanced height to loom over the two smaller men. It was his defense mechanism, to retreat to the comfort of his military training. Geez, Danse, you can be so nice, too, when you take the time to think for yourself. Unfortunately, Elder Maxson's known prejudices were a sticking point for most of the Commonwealth citizens, and hearing his mannerisms parroted by one of the Red Rocket residents sparked all kinds of friction.
"Suit yourself," was the offhand reply from Hancock.
"You'll answer me, Danse."boomed a powerful low baritone. Preston. "and actually, you do answer to him. And anyone else who has a reasonable question. We are a community here, not a militant order." Slow, deliberate footsteps approaching the overhang where Danse, Hancock, and MacCready's voices were located. "What is going on?" Nora froze, still sitting in the tub.
"Not only did we not know when you were coming back because your precious Brotherhood can't be bothered to tell us anything, when you finally do show up, Nora's power armor was practically destroyed, and you don't have a scratch!" MacCready shouted at Danse, voice cracking with anger. "Her power armor was slicing her back right open! Did you care she was wounded?" He wasn't going to be derailed from his tirade. "Couldn't even spare a Stimpak, could you?"
"You marched back here with the General wounded?" Preston was aghast.
"I didn't know," Danse began, a note of surprise in his tone. Nora doubted anyone else could hear it. "She never mentioned it. I would never--"
"Just shut up!" MacCready's angry shout interrupted the paladin. More scuffling, and grunts of exertion. Dogmeat began to bark excitedly. Nora stood up hastily at that, trying to step out of the tub without losing her balance. Her bandage stretched but held.
"Yes!" cheered a rough voice from around the corner. Oh no, Strong's gotten into it. "Mack Ree Dee fight metal can man!" Several voices raised in overlapping shouts and frantic scuffling.
"That's enough!" Both Garvey and Hancock's voices snapped in unison, silencing the melee. Rough breathing. Nora grabbed a towel and started to quickly dry off, being careful of her bandage. "MacCready," Hancock continued in a stern voice, rasping, "get out of here. Go punch a tree if you have to, just take a walk!" Fabric rustling, and the sound of angry footsteps fading, kicking up dust and gravel. "Strong, there's no fight today. Get back to butchering." Strong groaned in disappointment, but stomped away towards the cooking station. "Danse, cut the holier-than-thou crap."
Nora was nearly dry now, and grabbed for her vault suit. Donning it and the boots in record time, she took a moment to strap the pistol to the holster in her right boot. Only then did she emerge, finger-combing her wet hair, to see a tense tableau under the awning. Danse was facing away from her, still towering over Garvey, and the slender Hancock. Piper and Cait were far off to one side, by the corner of the garage door, the noise obviously distracting them from their regular activities. Valentine stood in the doorway of the community house, quietly watching the standoff, but not making any move to intrude. Dogmeat trotted over to her excitedly, wagging his tail and circling her in happy bounds. MacCready was nowhere to be seen.
Damn it all, nearly everyone was witness to this altercation. Nora's temper flared. She couldn't even take a damn bath without personality conflicts blowing up. She gave Dogmeat a scritch behind the ears and advanced towards the trio in the center of it all. Garvey spotted her and was about to say something, but the set look on her face cut off the words before he could voice them and he closed his mouth with a snap. Hancock actually took a step back in surprise. Danse turned around when he realized the others were watching her inevitable advance like an approaching rad-storm.
"All right, that's enough. Listen up." Her voice was low, but intense. She took a breath to steady her temper. "Yes, I came back from this last mission worse for wear. But it is not Danse's fault." She planted her hands on her hips in emphasis. "In fact," she continued, "were it not for his superb combat abilities, we probably wouldn't have come back at all." Danse's eyebrows rose in surprise at her vehement defense. "If there is an issue with a mission, we discuss it like civilized people." She gestured to the area encompassing the Red Rocket station. "We are a family here. We do not turn on our own."
She swung her head to pin Danse with a gimlet stare. "However," she continued, her voice clipped with anger, "the Brotherhood's lack of communication is inexcusable." She held up her hand to forestall any commentary. "The Minutemen and the Railroad both keep us informed when any of our members are out on their missions. I expect the Brotherhood to do the same as they agreed to when we founded this outpost. Our little Red Rocket exchange community is here to help the Commonwealth. We have all kinds of people working for a common goal, and we need to be able to trust each other." She took several calming breaths, allowing her anger to fade. They meant well, but sometimes personalities just clashed. "We will discuss this further... tomorrow."
She swept her gaze across the three in front of her. Danse looked like he had been poleaxed, completely stunned, eyes wide. Preston looked like he was going to burst with pride, cherishing his dream of the Minutemen being a real force for good. Hancock gave her a sly wink, grinning from earhole to earhole. She sighed in exasperation, slumping slightly out of her tense stance. "Look, tempers are frayed, and we all need to relax. I am going to take some time for myself right now. I suggest you all do the same." At this dismissal, Preston and Hancock turned to join Nick in the common house. Danse snapped to attention, giving Nora a crisp salute before clanking off in the general direction of the cooking station. Taking a quick survey of the area, Nora was pleased to note that she was alone, only Dogmeat staying at her side. Perfect.
In a low voice, she said to the attentive ears, "Hey boy, go find MacCready. Good Dogmeat. Find MacCready, boy!" A wag, and the dog was off, sniffing around before settling on a trail leading across the road to the north of Red Rocket. With a second quick glance to make sure no one was around, she followed.