Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Cherry woke up with the full intention to carve jack-o-lanterns in the driveway and drive her little family over to her parents’ house. Maybe bake a pumpkin pie with what was left over before heading over. Salting some of the seeds to roast. She would drink a beer with her dad for the first time in nine months, and they’d look out at the stars. Nate would be inside with Cherry’s mom crooning over Shaun. Life would look up, and maybe she and Nate would work out the way her parents had after she was born.

“You’re doing good, Dolly,” her dad would say.

“You taught me how,” she’d respond.

Cherry pinned back her bright red hair up out of her eyes as she looked over her reflection. Her deep tan skin made the color stand out all the more. Grey eyes stared hopefully back when she finally met her own gaze. The freckles sprayed around her face and shoulders. How much of these features would Shaun keep when he got older? How much of Nate's? Would his hair fade from sunshine? Would his freckles fade with time?

Cherry pulled on a light sweater and made her way out of the bathroom just as Shaun cried out from the other room. Earlier this morning, while she’d finally given in and talked with the Vault Tech representative that had been hounding the neighborhood, Codsworth had taken care of the fussy baby.

The pushing from the representative had been understandable considering that most of the area was filled with former veterans or families of currently deployed soldiers, but the hounding he'd done had surprised everyone in Sanctuary Hills. A good chunk of them had been surprised when they qualified for the Vault. Cherry would have rather been with her parents in their bunker, but there were probably be more supplies in a Vault than relying on what one family could produce in so small a space. 

“Don’t worry, Codsworth, I’ll get him this time!” Cherry called over her shoulder.

“Yes, mum!”

Shaun’s cries died out as soon as he saw Cherry’s face.

“Aw, were you lonely, little man? Do you want to go for a walk with me? Lets get you dressed up.”

Riffling through his drawer of onesies, Cherry smiled when she heard Nate walk in.

“So, the plan is to walk to your parents’ now?”

Cherry let out a short laugh and held out a long sleeve onesie patterned with elephants and giraffes, a gift from her mom along with seventeen identical ones in gradually increasing sizes that would last them until he was old enough for toddler clothes. 

“I think the fresh air would do him some good.”

But the world had other intentions. No sooner than Nate had buttoned up Shaun in a coat, aid raid sirens went off, and Codsworth was calling for them to look at the television.

New York.

Pennsylvania.

The entire east coast - the country - was watching as the bombs fell.

We’re next. 

Cherry and Nate immediately flew into action. Running as fast as they could, rushing past neighbors that were moving far too slowly if they were moving at all. They hardly took a moment to register the Vault Tech representative running in the other direction, fury in his eyes. Within minutes, the family was at the vault.

“Cover his eyes!” Cherry screamed over the scraping metal that was pulling them into the ground.

Nate put a hand across Shaun’s face, tucked him into his chest, and crouched facing Cherry with a cold fear in his scrunched face.

And the bomb went off.

-

Cherry woke up for the second time that day, cold seeping from every inch of skin and bone. She couldn’t move, could barely breathe, and then she watched them take Shaun.

They shot Nate, took Shaun, and the man who did it took a moment to revel in it. If she got out of here, she was going to kill him.

-

The third time Cherry woke up that day, she ran to Nate’s pod, hoping against hope that he was okay. That whatever cryogenic procedure had been used on them had managed to stop the bleeding. To keep him alive.

He wasn’t.

The vault was blaring at her to evacuate. Everyone was dead. She had only one choice right now, and thank God her dad had been too paranoid to let her skip out on even one camping trip. So she was going to survive, find her baby, and find a way to live. Even if her best friend wouldn’t get to see it.

She closed his pod back up and made her way through the halls full of giant roaches and dust.

As she emerged from the vault, she saw the ruins of Sanctuary Hills. Something tore at her chest as she looked at it, wondering if there was anything there for her. But everything was dead. Where there had once been miles of trees and hills, there was dried grass and shrubs that choked the land.

They wouldn’t have taken Shaun there. They couldn’t have known anything about us, right?

So instead of going to her destroyed home, she walked south until her feet grew tired.

The giant roaches weren’t the worst part of everything. Some men had tried to kill her on sight, clad in leather and metal. One armed with a bat tried to take a swing at her, but Cherry instinctively blocked the attack, using his weight against him. She wrenched it free from his grip and drove the bat down against his skull.

That was when the first bullet scraped against her upper arm. Cherry ducked behind a nearby car, breathing hard. It was all going too fast. Had she killed him? She hadn’t meant to. But he had attacked first.

“Get out here, you bitch!”

I need to get out of here.

There were two other men, both of them with guns based on how frequent the bullets were flying.

“I’m out! Pass me some rounds.”

Right. Guns have ammo. And I don’t.

Cherry clenched the bat in her hands. It was aluminum, stained red.

They were getting closer.

If they flanked her, she was done for.

Or maybe not.

Two clear shots rang out, and then silence. Cherry paused for a beat before peaking over the hood of the car. In the distance, a man in a duster was walking away without a word. And as much as Cherry wanted to yell out a thank you, she knew better than to draw attention to herself.

“What would dad do?” she whispered to herself.

She got to work looting the bodies of the fallen.

When she was done, she had a weird modge-podge of armor, a hunting rifle strapped to her back, and a hunting knife at her hip. She took the smallest man’s boots. They were sturdier than her plastic looking ones, but she couldn’t bear to strip them of their clothes, so she continued south, not knowing how she was going to hunt down her son.

But, by God, she was going to do it and salt the earth where she buried whoever tried to stop her.

Chapter Text

Her dad loved telling the story of the day she was born to anyone who would listen for as long as they’d allow. 

She was born on a warm summer day. Didn’t cause anyone any fuss. She was an easy birth according to her mom, no complications or worries aside from the fact that she didn’t want to cry when she was born. The doctor allowed the small noise that passed her lips to be sufficient in opening her lungs enough. Her first cry was when someone tried to pull her away from her dad’s arms. And that was the moment he knew he would destroy anyone who hurt his precious Babydoll. 

When Cherry turned seven, she got a crush on the girl next door and decided that she didn’t want her dad calling her Babydoll anymore. 

“I’m not a baby!” she had complained, stamping her foot on the ground. 

He laughed at her in her corduroy overalls and red braids. The dust of freckles were wild all over her face as she puffed up in defiance. 

“Alright, but I’m calling you Dolly, and you can’t stop me!” And he picked her up in his arms which made her squeal and laugh as she fought back against his tickling.

Cherry shook her mind clear as she approached the Nuka-World transit center. She hadn’t been paying much attention to where she was going, and with night approaching this seemed as good a place to bunker down than any - a fairly decent structure and more importantly, the first large group of people she’d seen since she’d left the Vault.

There was a group of what looked like soldiers standing in loose formation around their commander. Thinking back to the men she ran into earlier, she ducked down into a hiding spot behind the building. Maybe she would wait for them to leave before carrying on instead of trying for an introduction. 

“If I see anyone violate protocol and enter that transit station before we're set, I'll have your head,” the commander barked.

Cherry frowned. Right now she was moving without any information or a clue where to go. She needed someone to point her in a direction, and if there was some form of active military, then that was better than nothing. She knew how to deal with military types. 

With a deep breath, she stepped out of her hiding spot, hands up and weapons clearly at rest. 

The commander was the one who noticed her first. 

“You’re going to regret this,” voice low. Then, “Get her!”

And then all hell broke loose. Guns were firing, and Cherry ducked behind cover. There were two marksmen on the roof of one building. 

With careful aim, she tried to wound them. One fell, the other fired and hit her in the left shoulder. 

“Fuck!” 

Cherry ducked back into cover. 

Breathe. One, two, go! 

She kept this pace. For shooting, running into new cover, and once all of the soldiers were down, for pulling the bullet from her side. 

Her dad had showed her how to use a stimpack when she was on their first camping trip. At the time, she was worried about what would happen if she used too much of the stuff, but now she needed the pain to stop. She watched with a fascinated horror as the area stopped bleeding and then started to heal over faster than should be possible.

Cherry stumbled into the transit center as the pain receded, but she felt a headache coming on as she looked down at the man calling out to her from the floor. 

She sat across from him as he spoke. 

“What’s wrong? How can I help?” 

She listened as he explained who he was - Harvey - and what happened to his family - taken as slaves - with rapt attention. 

“Raiders? Seriously?” 

“I… yeah. Tough too.” 

Cherry pursed her lips a little. The man wasn’t bleeding, but he said he’d taken a bullet. 

“Here. I have a stimpack. Let me-” 

“No no! Please save it for my-” 

“Look, I don’t know where I am, where I’m going. I have five more of these that I picked up from some guys outside. I’m new here and you’re the only person who hasn’t shot me on sight. Take it.” 

The man stood up suddenly without issue. 

“Damn it. You got me. I ain’t injured.” He sucked in a ragged breath and let it out slowly. “It was the raiders at Nuka-World. They put me up to this. If I don’t-“ Another breath.

“They lure people in and kill them for fun. I’m done. I’m done with this.”

Cherry, still sitting on the ground, felt the air leave her lungs. 

“Done with what?”

“This! Doing their dirty work. Bringing in people. Let them find me. I’m tired.” He sank back down to his heels, head in his hands.

“What about your family?”

He let out a sharp laugh.

“Dead. They have been for a year now. It’s the others I worried about.”

“Others?”

“Yeah. We were there when the raiders showed up. I’m lucky. My collar gets deactivated because I bring in the bodies for their death trap. Goddamit!”

Cherry watched him carefully. This was sincere emotion.

“Do you really want to die? Like this? What would they do to you?”

“There was another guy I worked with. He thought he could run… but they caught him. They took two of the traders at random, made us watch while they were tortured. And then they ran him through the Gauntlet. They just… they don’t care. We’re less than cattle. We’re less than dirt. They just want their fun.”

“Alright. Okay. Shit.” 

“I,” he choked out the word without looking up, “I don’t want to die here. Please. Just let me go. I won’t say anything. I won’t bring anyone else there. I just want to crawl away.” 

“I’m not going to kill you. I need some information. Where is somewhere safe to go?” 

He seemed to calm down and hesitantly looked back up at Cherry. 

“Last I heard was Diamond City. But that was years ago before there were super mutant attacks. I don’t know of anywhere else that would be safe. Goodneighbor, I guess?” 

“And what’s waiting for me on the other side of that transit?” 

“A death trap. They call it the Gauntlet.” 

“Do you know what’s in it? The layout? Anything about it at all?” 

“I… I know there’s turrets. A room with radiation. I think there’s a pitfall with some monsters in it? What I know for a fact is that at the end you have to fight the Overboss. And no one’s ever won.” 

“Is it a fight to the death? Or can you prove yourself worth keeping around?” 

“He’s bloodthirsty. No one’s lived to fight him in months.” 

“But when they do?” 

“He tears them apart.” 

Cherry shuddered. 

She had a decision to make. She could go back outside, wander around the wastes for someone not going to kill her to ask directions to a place that may or may not still be standing. Or she could enter the devil’s world and fight for an answer. 

It was going to be hell, but it was certainty. 

“Do you know the order of the rooms. Anything at all so I know what to prepare for?” 

“I think so. I don’t know layout exactly, but I know how the rooms go.” 

Cherry nodded for him to continue as he started drawing on the dusty floor with a finger.

“Turrets first. I think the best way people have mentioned is running straight through the fire and getting to the other side.” 

He drew a clumsy box and a turret within. 

“Then there’s a room that’s wired to explode. Trip wires, if they haven’t changed that. Do you have any Rad-Away?” 

“What’s that?” 

“You’re kidding me… Okay, well you’ll need something to help with the room after that. Filled with radiation. It’s bad. I know a lot of raiders who try to tackle the Gauntlet for kicks who die in that room.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“Then it’s another turret room set to go off if you get close enough to trigger the starting mechanism. A maze rigged with traps. A minefield. The pitfall. The gas room. I don’t know what’s past that.” 

“Alright.” 

“You’re going?” 

“Yeah. I need answers. Solid answers. And this is the only lead I have.” 

“You’ll need this to get there. I turned off the power to the train. Made the story more believable.” 

“Thanks. I hope.” 

“Don’t thank me. I’m not doing you any favors.”

Cherry felt like this was a new world of little joys. So instead of sitting in one of the passenger seats, she climbed into the driver’s seat and watched the wasteland zoom past her. 

When Porter Gage’s voice came over the intercom, Cherry tried to scream out for answers, but it was a one way conversation. She pushed her palm into the glass beside her as hard as she could and calmed herself. She needed a level head if it was as bad as Harvey said it was. 

And now she had a name to ask for when she got to the end of it.

If Harvey was telling the truth, then there would be time for rest when this was all said and done. There was too much adrenaline coursing through her to sleep at any point anyway.

Cherry took her time getting through the rooms, much to this Red-Eye’s distaste. She kept in mind what Harvey had warned her about and looted the bodies she came across, keeping the letters she found on each body and folding them up into a pocket in a backpack she found along the way. Her rifles switched out halfway through the maze. 
When she got to the pitfall, she sprinted across the wooden planks to find the door locked. She looked down in horror at the giant crab-like creatures below her. Somewhere, Red-Eye laughed. 

One. Two. Go. 

The door was locked. The beams had fallen down in Cherry’s haste to cross to the end without falling. There was only down unless she could think.

Goddammit, Cherry, think!

There was a screwdriver in her pack that she had thought could make a good shank if needed. There was a bobby pin still in her hair from this morning. From centuries ago. 

Cherry grinned. This was something she could do. How many times in her life had she and her friends snuck into places they shouldn’t be? How many times in her career had she gotten needed evidence from a client’s sealed off home?

The lock took no time to pick. 

She took a moment to breathe. There was a box of Sugar Bombs standing ominously in a stream of light. If this was a movie, she’d yell at the screen for the hero to ignore it.

But this wasn’t a movie. And Chery suddenly realized that she hadn’t eaten anything since before she woke up this morning. 

She looked at her pipboy again as she carefully went through the cereal. 2287. Two-hundred and ten years. It was supposed to be impossible. And yet, here she was. 

There would be time to break down about that later.

Next was the gas room. And then the unknown. But she’d made it this far. 

The Overboss. Whoever he was, he was either going to help her or die. 

Time to move. 

Slowly, she disarmed the traps in the hallway ahead. The gas room nearly killed her, but she made it through by holding her breath and stabbing the roaches with her knife. 

And then there was air. Blessed air. And ants. Fucking giant flying ants. 

Cherry had tuned out Red-Eye, but heard the word “homestretch” through pounding ears. 

With a sudden renewed energy, she sprinted through the pathway, dodging bullets as best she could and flung open the door. 

She climbed up the stairs two at a time, listened to the Overboss’ posturing, but kept her eyes on the man off to the side who was looking up at her silently. No anger, no shouting like the people taking to the stands. Just a quiet stare from the one eye not covered up with a patch. 

That’s him. I know it.

Porter Gage.

Entering the prep room, a locker room choked with dead and dried blood, an intercom crackled to life. 

“You there? Hurry it up, we a’int got all day.”

As she crashed the button with her fist, she demanded answers of what was going on and who she needed to talk to about some damn explanations. 

"Yeah, I'm the one who's gonna get you outta this. Now, I don't know what all you're needing help with, but I have a proposition for you. You kill Colter, and I'll answer everything I can. And with a little bit of legwork, I'll get you the head of whoever you want." 

“I’m listening.” 

Chapter Text

Gage grinned from his spot at the intercom, keeping an eye on Colter.

“That’s my gal.”

Whoever this woman was, he had a good feeling about her. Or maybe that was his hoping he wouldn’t have to sneak out of here like a dog to avoid the wrath of the others.
This was the end of their patience. Either this woman did her job and kill that son-of-a-bitch or hell rained down on Nuka-Town like a whole new bomb.

He talked her through his plan, and she didn’t question it.

“Right. Well staying hydrated is half the battle, right?”

Gage eyed Colter's wiring that crawled from his power armor up to the cieling.

“He ain’t got a choice.”

Colter was working the crowd. For all his shortcomings, he delivered on that. This was going to be the most satisfying thing to happen all year if it worked. Hell maybe in Gage’s entire life.

Gage glanced up at where the four others were sitting. For all Mags and William’s measured passivity, there was a hunger in their eyes. Nisha’s teeth were almost imperceptibly bared. And Mason was calm in his seat, instead of his usual pumping up his pack. They were just as nervous. But they had someone to go after if things went south.

Gage chose not to think about that and watched the show as he opened the door for his only hope.

Aw, shit. 

She was tiny. Where her armor - old, ill-fitting, and scavenged - didn’t cover were curves that you only got from having decent meals every day. Her fucking boots were held together with fucking duct tape, and he wouldn’t be surprised if they were at least a size too big. And her hair, goddamn. Her hair looked like something out of a pin-up magazine the way it hung down to her shoulders like a red velvet curtain. Albeit more on the frazzled side. This was not Overboss material.

Gage watched her circle the arena, appraising Colter and his armor. She was quick, he’d give her that. She twisted around like she was dancing. Hell, maybe she was. But one thing was for sure, she wasn’t attacking. She sprayed Colter down with the water gun over and over, shorted out his suit three times.
It was when she came closer that he saw her mouth moving. Was she… counting?

Suddenly, she was slipping out of her armor as she was dancing around. The metal and leather landed on the floor. The crowd was screaming their heads off.

The hell is she doing?

For the fourth time, she short circuited the suit, but this time, she climbed up Colter’s back, dodging his arms. In a second, she was across the arena. This time when she counted, she held up her fingers.

Index. Thumb. And then mimed firing a gun.

And Colter exploded in a mess of metal, blood, and meat.

“Colter, man he’s out! Gage what the hell just happened?”

“You saw it. We all saw it. Colter’s dead.”

Gage did his best to hide a feral smile.

“We got ourselves a new Overboss.”

Nisha was grinning as far as her mask would show, even as she complained. Mason was standing again. Mags and William stared holes into the woman putting her armor back on.

He deftly handled their protests and cleared out the arena.

Whoever she was, she had a lot of questions, and somehow he felt it was going to take all night. But there were important things before her questions. Things that needed to get sorted out before the entire park knew this had been orchestrated like this.

She paid rapt attention as he explained the situation.

Even as he asked for trust, he saw no change in her expression. She just stared at him with eyes like steel.

“You’ve got my attention. Talk.”

He did. All the cards on the table that she needed to see for now. Colter had left the gangs stagnant. Anxious for blood, caps, and something to goddamn do. So Gage and the bosses came up with the plan to get rid of him, replace him with someone worth a damn.

Someone grateful to the man who got her through it.

“You don’t know anything about me. You don’t know if I’m going to blow you up the way I did him.”

“Look, follow me through here. You’ll see what I’m talking about. And then I’ll let you choose what you do from here.”

No he wouldn’t. If she chose to leave, then he’d be a dead man. Gage wasn’t a stupid son-of-a-bitch. He needed her to agree, and if he was good for anything, it was convincing people to stay alive.

He led her through Nuka-Town, not bothering to give her details yet. When he glanced back to make sure she was following, he was nearly taken aback. Her eyes were full of wonder, but the set of her shoulders gave nothing away. She was drinking in everything like raiders were a new thing for her. Though to be fair, these ones were no ordinary raiders.

When Gage opened the door leading into the Operator’s chunk of Nuka-Town, he realized she wasn’t looking at the people at all. Her eyes were on the buildings, the ground, the decayed trees. She nearly paused as they passed Cappy’s Cafe but soldiered on.

She was silent until they stepped into the Overboss quarters.

“Oh, God, no.”

If Gage were a weaker man, he would have outright laughed at her look of horror.

“Yeah. Colter had some… interesting tastes.”

“This isn’t taste at all.”

She shook her head and went to dust off a nearby chair, but seemed to think better of it and wiped off the counter of the bar instead.

“Alright,” she said hopping up with practiced ease, “I have questions, and I hate to tell you this, but they’re more important if you want me to act like I know what I’m doing.”

“We don’t have time for-”

“Oh no. You don’t understand. I have zero idea about what’s going on anywhere. I’m fresh out of a freezer.”

“What?”

Gage was not prepared for this.

“This morning the bombs fell, and tonight I’m going to bed without my husband or my… or my baby.”
Her eyes looked sunken but not defeated. Gage knew that look. It was the eyes that raiders got when they drunkenly turned to tell their buddy a story and remembered he died that morning. It was the look you gave yourself in the morning when you saw the glint of your reflection and could see how little you’d been eating. It was a look that said you were going to mourn then unleash the devil.

And the devil was who they needed if they wanted to live through the week.

“You don’t know anything at all? Not a damn thing?”

“I know the face of the man who killed Nate. I know that I came here because I didn’t have any certainty about wandering through this endless mess,” she flung a hand out to the window in front of her. “And if you can help me get my bearings in this world, I’ll do whatever you want. But I’m no use to you without any knowledge, and you need me alive from the sound of those people in the arena.”

Gage sighed and plopped onto a stool.

“Everything you see out there? It’s yours. You’re in charge now.”

“And why am I in charge? Because I killed a guy at the end of a death trap?”

“Because you killed the guy at the end of the death trap. You don’t get it. Colter? He was a fuckin’ asshole. You survived. That means you’ve got what it takes. Or at least the potential.”

“You need shit done. And I need to find my baby.”

“I can’t guarantee that we’ll find the kid. You have any leads?”

“Just that man. Some scientist looking woman with him.”

“Alright. You give me a solid description, I’ll put out feelers. See what I can dig up. But like I said: I can’t guarantee that we’ll find your kid, but we can put a bullet in the head of whoever you want.”

Her head shot up, and she finally met his eye. Endless and dark boring into him like they'd read his future if he let his guard down.

“You mean that?”

There was something in that rage filled face that made him reflexively reach for his sidearm. He tried to recover by standing and putting it beside her on the counter.

“You’re the Overboss. You get this place up and running? Those assholes down there will follow you to the ends of the earth.”

“I sure do like the sound of that.”

Chapter Text

Cherry watched Gage explain what she needed to know. She’d found a notepad feature on her Pipboy, and even though it was an arduous process that Gage seemed to have little patience for, she made as detailed notes as she could. 

“Bottle caps are the currency now? Are you shitting me?”  she asked incredulously.

He shrugged. 

“Okay. I can make this work. I need info on survival. What’s edible and what isn’t?” 

“Well, most everything. We can stop by the market when you’re ready. You’ll be able to get a feel for it all.” 

“Alright. But before that, I need to be able to blend in with everyone here. I’ve got the dirt down.” 

Cherry wrinkled her nose at the room around her. There was trash everywhere, combined with the broken mannequins. The cleanest thing in the room was a bar of soap by the sink that looked like it never been used. 

“I can’t sleep in this.” 

“What? Delicate sensibilities, boss?” 

Cherry glared at Gage as hard as she could. 

“You need me up and running. Last thing I want is to die in this shithole because I got an infection. I can rig up a hammock with some netting. Hell if I have time, I can use rope to make one. I’m not sleeping in that bed, and I’m not living like this.” 

Gage held his hands up in mock surrender. 

“Whatever you say, boss.” 

An idea flashed across Cherry’s mind, and she stopped glaring. 

“I need something to draw with. Paint, ink, something.” 

Gage passed through the set of doors and came back out with an old can of blue paint. 

Cherry dipped a finger in experimentally. Satisfied with the texture, she moved to one of the mannequins and straightened it out as best she could. It took some duct tape, but she had rigged up a good training dummy. With the paint, she roughly drew on the features of the man she was going to hunt down. 

With satisfaction, she moved it across from the stage where the bed sat forlornly. 

If Gage was curious, he didn’t say anything. 

“Get me a broom. And a sledgehammer if you have one. I saw some people out there with them.” 

Gage nodded and left via the lift. 

She watched him descend, then turned her gaze to the expanse of the park. Even in the cold dark, she could see that the lake was grimy, piles of trash laid around like stars dusting the sky, the cleanest decorations were the bloodied pikes. This was going to take a lot of work. 

In the window, she practiced different expressions: anger, passive, cool detachment. She would need those if she was going to keep up the act. When she saw Gage heading back, she went to work tossing all of the trash on the counters and tables onto the ground. She was inspecting the chairs when the lift creaked to a halt. 

Gage set the tools to the side and dropped an armful of rope onto the ground. 

“Like I said, boss. I’ll get you what you need. You just need to make sure you can get us what we need.” 

For the first time, Cherry let herself actually look the man over. 

He wasn’t much older than her, maybe thirty-seven. His arms were as thick as her thighs. He was easily her size and a half no matter how you looked at it. His teeth were stained from tobacco, his nose crooked from being broken and set incorrectly. His dark one eye met her with an expectant gaze. 

“Alright. Right now I need you to use those muscles of yours to break down this piece of shit room. Leave that dummy, though. It’ll go down soon enough.” 

“Yeah, boss.” 

“Once I set up this hammock, I’m going to sleep. I’ll head over to introduce myself in the morning.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

As Gage went to work removing his armor, Cherry grabbed one of the wooden chairs and ripped the cushions from it. It was going to be difficult without a proper loom or weaving jig, but she’d manage. 

“There’s a workshop in the back if you want to use it, boss. It’s meant for weapons, but I’m sure there stuff you could use.” 

“Just give me any nails you find and anything steel shaped like a circle.” 

She’d lost track of how many times she’d practiced this. Her mom had made sure she knew every knot in the book. She’d practiced with twine for the most part and hadn’t done it since she was in high school, but her hands remembered everything. Letting her mind go blank, she was able to break off a leg of the chair, wrapping the rope around to make her shuttle. 

She got to work on the first clew. It was always her favorite part. She liked to make them intricate, her own. But for now, she was battling exhaustion, so she went for a basic clew that would get the job done. 

“So, who should I see first tomorrow?” 

“Nisha would take it personal if you didn’t pass by her place first, considering it’s right beside us.” 

“Alright. And you said the Pack is all about hierarchy, so I should see Mason second.  Otherwise, he’ll start talking in front of his people. Which leaves Mags for last.” 

“She’d be more understanding, so long as you get what it is that she cares about the most.” 

“Money? Pass me those nails?” 

“Money. Here.” 

Cherry took them gratefully and drove them into the wall to the right of the doorway. If she didn’t have a loom, she’d improvise. 

“Nisha wants to destroy. Mason wants fun in whatever form it comes in. Mags wants to roll around in caps till she bleeds.” 

“And whatever you do, don’t promise too much. It’s normal to promise more than you think you can provide, but too much and they’ll think you’re going to run.” 

“Promise them the moon and get them to the stars,” she muttered as she drove in the last nail.

“Sure.” 

They didn’t speak for a while. Cherry continued with her work, sitting on the floor and tucking rope in and out of the holes she made. The netting was the easiest part, but time consuming. When she was a kid, this process would take her nearly half a day just because she had to constantly shift a stool around for the first half. By the time she went to college, she could make one in about an hour if she stopped thinking. 

“Alright, boss. I’ve cleared out those tables. I’m going to bed before I pass out on my feet.” 

Cherry nodded. 

Just before Gage stepped through the door, she reached a hand out and tugged on his pant leg. 

“My name is Cherry. Cherry Mendoza.” 

Gage paused at the threshold, not looking back, but not ignoring her either.

“I’ll keep that in mind, boss.” 

Chapter Text

Cherry woke up, keeping her eyes shut. For a moment, she thought she was still at home and had taken a nap in the backyard. But that didn’t make sense because her body was on fire. Every muscle ached, her head felt like it was about to explode. 

Her eyes opened to a cracked ceiling and a holey jumpsuit. She was freezing. In her haste the night before, she hadn’t thought to use anything as an underquilt. It was a rookie mistake she was paying for now. 

Gage mentioned something about going to the market today. 

And just as she thought his name, there was a knock on the door. 

“You ready, boss? It’s near noon.” 

“Yeah. I need some clean clothes. Or at least something that doesn’t have holes in it. You can come in.” 

Cherry sat up as the door opened. Gage wasn’t wearing his armor yet, letting Cherry get a good look at his torso. Healed over scars peaked out from his tank top shirt and laced across his arms. He was well-built, if a little malnourished. Though that seemed to have been everyone Cherry had watched in the window the night before.

Nate hadn’t been a very big man when they’d met. Four years in service had changed that. An extra tour let it stick. And while Cherry hadn’t completely bought into that whole shtick, she wasn’t one to complain about those results when it came to them having some fun. What else were friends with benefits for?

Between the ability to wear the armor she'd seen yesterday and the sheer willpower she could feel coming off of him, she didn't doubt that the man in front of her could have lifted Nate and not broken a sweat

“You good, boss?” 

Cherry cleared her throat and looked away.

“It's cold. I need a fucking jacket.” 

Gage went to a wardrobe on the stage and rummaged through drawers. After a moment, he shut the doors in disgust, kicking the drawer closed. With a furrowed brow, he turned back to Cherry.

“Head inside. It’s warmer and there’s a stove you can heat up if you want. I’ll head down and see if anyone has something more useful than Colter’s goddamn bottle collection.” 

Inside was indeed warmer, and somehow tackier than Colter’s room had been. Cherry was willing to chalk that up to the original wallpaper, though. The room was musty, but everything seemed at least wiped down recently. Clearly Gage cared more about stray garbage than everyone else here. 

Cherry let her fingers glide over the table where a terminal sat glowing awake. She’d take a look at it later, when there was more time. For now, she poked her head into the kitchen. The stove was welded together from old stoves and what looked like a piece of an old Nuka-Cola sign, but it seemed to work when she turned the knob.

She looked around in the pantry and found a box of mac-and-cheese. There were cartons labeled WATER in shaky handwriting. 

“When in Rome,” she sighed.

The food could have been worse. She was hungry enough to down the entire pot, but decided to leave some as thanks. 

As she went about washing down the counter with a rag and soap bar she’d found, an elevator bell dinged. She continued her cleaning before turning to the dishes. 

“There’s still some for you on the stove.” 

The clack and shuffle of buttons and cloth hitting the floor sounded before Gage moved to the stove. He proceeded to eat straight out of the pot with the stirring spoon Cherry had dug up. She rolled her eyes. 

“You owe me fifty caps for that, by the way.” Gage said, putting an elbow down on the counter. “Wasn’t sure what all you wanted, so I got everything that looked decent and like it fit.” 

“Appreciated. I’ll see if I can’t scrounge that up later.” 

When she finished cleaning up, she turned to the pile. 

Most of it was dirty, but intact. Among the pile was a Nuka-World jumpsuit that looked sturdier than her own. Cherry set that aside and continued digging. There were plenty of t-shirts that she could make use of, even a few pairs of jeans that looked like they might actually fit around her thighs. 

Cherry grinned when she found a thick pair of work boots that were her size. They looked nice and clunky, retouched with leather. Underneath them was a decent looking cappy jacket.

She’d sort through the rest of them later. For now, she needed to get dressed and head out. 

“Is there a room I can use?” 

Gage had been lazily watching her shift through the pile. With a pair of fingers, he gestured to a set of bathroom doors that looked like they’d fall apart at any given moment.

Cherry did her best not to look incredulous. 

At least the mirrors were intact. 

Her makeup was smudged and cracked. Her hair was matted with blood from the Gauntlet. She was going to need a shower at some point, but for now she made due with tying her hair up in a ponytail. She grimaced at the three scars along the right side of her face that dragged from the end of her eyebrow, across her temple, and into her hairline. It was an old camping wound that had landed her in the hospital as a kid. Great for intimidation, but not much else.

They sure as hell won’t hurt here.

Cherry’s maternity bra was suddenly incredibly dingy to her. She could almost feel the dried sweat clinging to it as her skin was exposed to the dusty air. After a bit of debate, she decided to wash it when she got back. She’d rather not end up with milk stains in front of people she was meant to intimidate. And, if she was planning to wash all of the clothes she now owned anyway, it was worth it to clean this bra to the best of her ability. It had been expensive to get. 

As she reached for the doorknob, she saw her wedding ring still on her finger. It was almost new. Only two months old. Love, honor, and cherish. With a surge of anger, Cherry pulled it from her finger and flung it behind her. 

It had felt like a joke then, and it was a joke now. As much as she’d cared for Nate as a friend, he’d never been someone she loved. Their first one-night-stand since his last leave wasn’t meant to be much more than that, and Cherry had been one hundred and ten percent ready to raise Shaun on her own. If he’d wanted to help that was fine, but she didn’t need it. She had enough money, even with maxing out the pro-bono work allowed her every month. With a Mr. Handy, she would still be able to work and care for Shaun. 

But he’d worn her down, and they married.

“For his sake. Please. He’s my kid too.” 

“I’m not taking him away from you! You can live with us if you want. I have a spare room. Nate, you know my house has always been open for you. I just don’t want to get married.” 

“How would that be for the baby? Having to explain why we have different last names? Or wondering why we don’t share a room like everyone else’s parents?” 

“For crying out loud, Nate! That’ll be years from now! I love you to death, but this isn’t that important! I wouldn’t change my name anyway! I wouldn’t be sleeping with you anyway! I’m not going to do something I don’t want to do!” 

“Cherry. Dolly...” 

“Don’t you dare. You don’t get to call me that. Not when we’re fighting.” 

“You’re my best friend. I just want to be able to take care of our kid. And you. Please. You… you don’t have to change anything. I’ll stay on the couch like normal until we get everything set up. No wedding even. Just the papers. We’ll tell your parents. The marriage benefits are good and that house I was waiting for is ready in a week. It’ll be a shorter drive to the office for you, and I can stay with him once your maternity leave is up.”

With a sigh, Cherry turned and picked up the ring, putting it in her pocket. Maybe she hadn’t wanted him as a husband, but he was still the best friend she’d ever had. 
She’d mourn later. Maybe once it really set in that this wasn’t a fever dream.

With a final glance in the mirror, Cherry stepped back into the main room. Gage was typing away at the terminal, looking bored. 

“You done, princess?” 

Cherry felt a pang in her chest. 

“I’m ready. Meet me in the market in an hour.” 

“Wait. You’re going alone?” 

“They need to see I’m not afraid of them. Or this.” 

He sighed, “You’re the boss.” 

Chapter Text

It wasn’t that hard to keep tabs on her as she went from boss to boss. Aside from Nisha’s place, there were back doors to get in. It wasn’t that Gage was worried about the new boss. He was sure she could handle herself if it came down to a fight. At least a small fight with a few people. But if she picked one and an entire building of raiders came after her? 

Part of Gage’s job as a second was knowing everything he could and making himself indispensable. If one of those assholes took out the new boss, he was gone. He needed to know immediately if damage control was necessary. 

He took the elevator down, and when he was sure that the boss wouldn’t see him following, he slipped out into the open air. 

Her conversation with Nisha was alright. She praised the Gauntlet, set her foot down. Even agreed to help out with a few jobs in the Commonwealth after everything was taken care of here. 

He waited in the shadow of the scaffolding as she made her way back to the door. When she was gone, he waited for twenty seconds before following. 

“Keeping an eye on your new pet, Gage?” 

“Making sure that if one of your people get greedy, they get caught.” 

Nisha chuckled. 

“If that was the case, then they’d earn my wrath. I don’t know how full of shit she is. But she is quite promising. Hope she stays that way.” 

Her footsteps wandered further upstairs to her quarters. 

With controlled speed, he made his way to the amphitheater. Slipping through the back door, he nodded at several Pack members waking up. It always surprised him how clean this place was despite the stink. He had never seen any trash in this area aside from some discarded bottles on the concrete seats. 

The boss was standing next to him on the platform where Mason sat on him throne. They weren’t facing each other, instead watching the fight in the middle of the amphitheater. A woman was fighting off a molerat with a scarred hand. 

Gage weighed whether he would be able to play off him being here as him waiting for the hour to be up. Would she catch onto his lie? Or maybe she was just trusting enough to let him get away with it. 

He stepped out of the shade and sat heavily on a bottom seat. He pretended to be focused on the fight, but made sure his view allowed him to see both the boss and Mason.

She had her arms crossed, gesturing towards the fence with an expression of detached interest. Mason waved a hand, inviting her to do something. 

She grinned wildly, shucking off her jacket. 

“Hey! Out of the ring! The Overboss wants to have a go for herself. Robin! You’re in.” 

She leaped over the fence with a zeal he hadn’t yet seen from her. Her eyes were shining as Robin stepped into the cage. 

Gage had seen a lot of raiders let loose. When he was a kid there was a friend who had destroyed one of his hands beating on a feral ghoul. He’d taken a piece of rebar, sliced his hand open in the process. Died a week later from infection. 

Whoever the boss was right now, she was an, animal. Viciously, she wrestled Robin  to the ground, arms and legs becoming a nasty ball of limbs and muscle. Just when a Gage thought she was beat, the boss hooked a leg around Robin’s throat. 

Sweat poured down her forehead as she yelled for Robin to yield. 

There was a tense two seconds where Robin didn’t move. His face turned a bright red, and right before his eyes began to go dim, he slammed his hand on the ground twice. 

The boss immediately unlocked her legs, moving to her feet and holding a hand out to Robin. Hesitantly, he took it and let her pull him up. 

“Make sure to drink some water and keep you head above your chest for a bit. Don’t go to sleep in the next few hours. You were pretty close there.” 

She grinned at Mason over her shoulder. 

“I think I like this side of town.” 

Mason sat in his throne, pleased with his Pack. 

As the boss was leaving, she waved at Gage. She kept those wild eyes as she passed, not bothering to hide the spring in her step. 

The door shut behind her, noise returning to the amphitheater. 

Mason waved Gage over lazily as he pet one of the dogs at his heels. 

“So that’s her, huh? She’s a vicious lady.” 

Gage stepped to his side, the same place the boss had been only a bit ago. 

“Yeah?” 

“Bet me thirty caps she could take out my best guy. Pass these to her when you get the chance.” 

Gage took the money, slipping it into a pocket. So that was how she planned on paying him back.

“So what do you think of our new Overboss?” Gage asked, nonchalantly.

“I think I like her just fine. So long as she remembers us, we’ll remember her.” 

Gage made sure to keep his face blank as he made his way to The Parlor. He could move through here without much issue. He and Mags had been meeting a lot planning the logistics of overthrowing Colter, so the bouncer at the door had stopped questioning him weeks ago. 

He leaned against the wall in the entrance as he caught the tail end of their conversation. 

“So we want to know what your plan is.” 

“Oh didn’t you know? I’m in this for the soda,” the tone was mockingly sweet. After a beat, the boss scoffed. “What else do you think I’m here for? Money makes the world go round, and I aim on making sure we decide when it’s sunup.” 

Gage left to the market before Mags could get to her spiel about running jobs in the Commonwealth. It seemed like the boss was just calculating enough after all. 

Chapter Text

“So, how’d it go, boss?” 

Cherry leaned against a wall of the market beside Gage, making mental notes of everyone passing by. 

It didn’t take a genius to notice the ones with collars were slaves. They were broken people that everyone else was dancing on, stretching out what little life they had in them.

They were walking, shuffling, peddling wares to anyone who took a moment to look. 

This isn’t going to do. 

“They’re on board. Now run this part here by me.” 

“We’ve got traders, people who were here before we moved in. They do their work, bring in the caps.” 

Things like this were the reason Cherry had done her work as a lawyer in the first place. 

She’d saved people from the draft, kids with nowhere to go when they “turned their backs on their country.” She’d organized halfway houses, taught seminars on survival skills. Her parents had weekend barbeques under the guise of state approved charity, and no one would ever know - or Cherry guessed knew - that they were smuggling kids out of the country. 

“And they sell things? How do they get new product?” 

“The other traders who pay the fines for safe travel to and from the Commonwealth.” 

“Hm.” 

No, this is definitely not going to do. 

“So what did you want here, boss?” 

“If I’m in charge here, I’m going to look the part. I need armor and a decent gun. Not to knock on your magnificent contribution, but I don’t think a squirt gun is going to get me all that far.” 

After some haggling and trading in old armor for new, Cherry motioned Gage to follow. They made their way back to Fizztop, the hissing of gang members ringing in Cherry’s ears. She didn’t look like them. Her hair, as messy as it was, wasn’t faded from the sun. Her freckles weren’t as pronounced. Her scars were too few. She had some fat on her cheeks. 

It wasn’t until they arrived in her room that she let her guard down. Cherry felt the exhaustion making her eyes heavy. This wasn’t what she’d been expecting when she stepped out of bed. Everything from the light layer of dust on the counters to the murky pool outside gave her a stomach ache. 

“So where are we heading first?” 

“That’s up to you, boss.” 

There had been a few times in college when she’d nearly lost all control of herself. During her first year, her friends had been genuinely concerned that she was going to burn out before midterms even started. She’d overthink every little issue. What if the prof knew she wasn’t studying right? How was she going to juggle everything and a girlfriend? What if she got sick and couldn’t keep up? What if her struggling with college made her girlfriend break up with her and Cherry’s world fell apart and there was nothing left to keep her going- 

Cherry pulled herself out of a backwards anxiety spiral that hadn’t been good then and sure as hell wasn’t good now. 

It was by a professor’s kind guidance that she went to a doctor to look into her mental illness. 

“I’m not some invincible god, you know. I haven’t been here since I graduated high school. I don’t know anything about this new world. I don’t know how in the hell you expect me to suddenly lead the charge and get you all a cut of land.” 

“Woah, woah, boss. You ain’t have to do this alone. I mean those asses out there won’t be coming to your call right away, but for now, you got me on your side.” 

A bubble of anxiety rose up in Cherry’s throat, but she staved it off with a sarcastic, “Sure. You might even learn a thing or two.” 

Gage offered a lopsided grin and laughed out, “This I gotta see.” 

“We’ll head out tomorrow morning. Sunup.” 

“Sounds like a plan. Anything you need, you let me know.” 

“I have a question.” 

“Yeah?” 

“The slaves. That’s not going to be a thing for long.” 

“Don’t sound like a question.” 

He leaned back against the counter and folded his arms across his chest.

“Look. Maybe I’m going to be leading a few gangs to take over the region, but I’m not going to allow slavery. I have an idea on how to keep people on for work. We’ll keep the trade going and keep bringing in caps. But that?” She waved a hand in the direction of the market. “That’s going to be cleared up after these parks. You understand me, Porter?” 

“Gage. No one calls me Porter. And yeah, I can understand that.” 

He was frowning, a little squint of the eyes accentuating the crows’ feet and scars. 

“Alright. You’re free to go if you want. But I could use some help finishing up gutting the place.” 

“I suggest you pack up what you’ll need instead, boss,” he said, leaving no room for argument. “No telling what we’re going to be running into, and you’re going to have to pick which park to clear out first.” 

Cherry spent the rest of the night packing, trying not to sob into a shirt or a pillowcase she was washing in a bucket.

Nate is gone. My parents. Rose. The firm. 

Shaun.

No.

Shaun was out there. They had a head start, but they had her baby, and it seemed important that they leave her alive. Whatever backup meant, she was going to make them regret leaving her.

In the time after rest and food, Cherry was sure Nate would have gone home first, if it had been him. Something to ground him and give him a home base.

She looked around at the now wiped down counters and the harsh yelling from down in the NukaTown pond.

She wasn’t an idiot. She knew that she was a captive just as much as she was supposedly in charge. But, she had at least some things going for her.

Gage seemed to be genuine in trying to keep her alive and around. It wasn’t trust, that was for sure, but it was something she hadn’t gotten in the few days out of cryo. He’d even walked her through basics until he got agitated and said he’d answer questions as they went.

Cherry hung up the underclothes to dry on the leftover rope that she’d tied across where there was once a bed. The matresses got to stay as padding that could be used for something. Everything had a purpose. Could be re-purposed.

Out of the corner of her eye, Cherry caught her reflection in the window.

She could make it through this.

She had no choice but to adapt and to thrive. She’d turn this place into somewhere she could bring Shaun. Turn these people into people.

With a sigh, she undressed, slipped into her new covers and did her best to pass out.

Chapter Text

Cherry was falling through voices that made no sense. It was a cacophonous grinding sound of metal on metal paired with the screeching of people trying to be louder than each other. Among it all was Shaun crying. Cherry tried to look around, to fall in his direction, but he was too far off in the expanding darkness that threatened to choke her. With a blinding light that took over everything, Cherry woke up. 

She was drenched in sweat, shivering in the cold wind that rocked the hammock gently. The sunrise was slowly creeping into view as a soft alarm on her Pipboy chimed. With a shaky breath, Cherry sat up and rubbed her face against her shoulder. 

“Rise and shine, I guess.” 

She dressed quickly, frowning at the grime that clung to the metal armor. Carefully, she rolled up the hammock and slipped it into her backpack next to the cartoonish map of Nuka World. She was still sore from the Gauntlet, from the exercise that she had gotten lax during the last months of pregnancy and postpartum rest. Before that, it would have just been the wounds that were killing her, but now, she was too soft.

It was going to be a hard run, but if this is what it was going to take to get Shaun back, then so be it. 

Kiddie Kingdom. 

Cherry could vaguely remember the high school field trip. Jean had insisted on pulling her up on the ferris wheel like it was some kind of romcom, and it wasn’t until after a lot of complaining about having just eaten and being afraid to puke that Cherry told him she was scared of heights. They ended up going to the fun house to fool around instead. 

“Well, boss. Looks like you’re already to go.” 

Cherry liked the accent that clung to the air after he spoke. It was soothing. Something soft in this harsh new world. Combined with the smell of smoke, there was something oddly comforting, and at the same time, everything screamed to grab the surely stale box of cigarettes and chunk it into the sea.

“Yeah. We’re going to Kiddie Kingdom. I remember that one the best.” 

“Right.” He said, sarcastically. “Because you’re two-hundred years old.” 

Cherry nodded. She could almost hear his eye roll. 

“Any idea of what to expect?” 

“We’re going to need a fuck ton of Radaway and Rad-x. You can see the radiation cloud from here.” 

“How much do we have right now?” 

“I dunno. About seven packs and a bottle?” 

“Is that enough?” 

He chuckled dryly, “Depends on how long we stay in there and if there’s shelter.” 

Cherry set her jaw as she calculated how long she could risk being away from Shaun. On one hand, if she was able to get the gangs in line, she’d have hundreds of people at her disposal. On the other hand, her baby was out there in that wasteland with a murderer. 

“Three days.” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“We’re going to clear it in three days.” 

“If you say so, boss.”

She was way over her head. 

Covered in dust, sweat, and blood, Cherry climbed up to the top of a shack pulling Gage up with her. She wanted to throw up, and that voice was going off again. 

“Are you feeling lost? Pathetic!” 

The growling… people?... clawed at the wood. 

“I can see the funhouse from here. Think we can make it?” 

Gage unleashed round after round at the advancing monsters. 

“I hate ghouls. Which direction?” 

“Behind us. Come on. Back to back.” 

It was arduous, but the duo got to the funhouse safely, a trail of ghouls behind them. 

“I have so many questions.” 

“Yeah, I bet you do. Can they wait for me to bandage up?” 

“Sit against the wall. I can help.” 

“I don’t need-” 

“I know you don’t need help. But I want to.”

Need to. Something to steady me. Focus, focus, focus. 

Cherry cleared out some debris and pulled out a bottle of vodka. 

“Want some?” 

“I don’t drink.” His voice was sharp, the words sinking to the ground like a falling icicle.

Cherry looked at him incredulously, but didn’t push. Instead, she got to work alcohol soaking some of the rags she’d boiled clean last night. For a second, she entertained taking a long drink, but figured that if she was going to bury herself in a bottle, she’d wait until she got back to Fizztop. 

“So what the fuck are those things?” 

“What? The ghouls? People who got irradiated for too long. Those ones,” he jerked his chin at the door with a wince, “the ferals, they don’t have brains anymore. Or least not any far as I can tell. They’ll fight anything that ain’t a ghoul.” 

“Do you turn if they bite you?” 

Cherry eyed one of her own wounds fearfully. 

“Nah. That’s just something that can happen when you’re already irradiated to hell. Which, speaking of, we should clear out our systems.” 

Gage swiped a needle across a corner of a bandage and set up the IV tubing. 

“Where’d you learn to do that?” 

He scoffed, then seeing she was serious, replied, “Everyone learns how eventually. There’s rad storms all through the Commonwealth.” A grimace that showed off his sharp and stained canines. “Goddamn molerats have radiation in their saliva.” 

“Fuck.” 

His grimace turned into that lopsided grin again. Something felt less than genuine about it, but it was nice all the same.

“You know how to tie a tourniquet?” 

“Yeah. That’s easy.” 

Cherry found herself mimicking her child self, proudly lifting her head and tossing her ponytail over a shoulder while she tied the cloth and held it tight with a stray stick. 

“Where’d you learn that, boss?” 

She held his gaze for a moment, before turning to dress her own wounds. The alcohol stung the edges of slightly swollen scratches. Carefully, she cleaned the dirt off her exposed skin. 

“My parents were survivalists. I’ve been learning this stuff since I could walk. They were convinced that the world was going to end.” She laughed on an exhale. “I guess it nearly did.” 

“Nearly?” 

“Well you’re here, aren’t you? A whole bunch of people. Maybe the world fell apart, but it definitely didn’t end.” 

Gage didn’t say anything more as Cherry shook her hair loose and switched her hair out from a ponytail into a bun. It would be harder to get dragged down like that.

Cherry made the mental notes as she got to work doing field repairs on her armor.

Cons: 

• Shaun still missing
• Nate dead
• Technically held captive by the person next to me
• Everything is really grimy and it’s driving me insane
• Kind of enjoying the catharsis of the killing

Pros:

• Someone is on my team and helping with finding Shaun
• The new scars will help me fit in more with the raiders
• I don’t think the person next to me actually wants to kill me
• I don’t have to help with the Freize case anymore
• Kind of enjoying the catharsis of the killing

They rested a while longer, until the man on the PA became insufferable. 

“The hell is this place anyway?” Gage dropped a spent cigarette and squashed it out with his boot. 

“A funhouse maze, lots of trick mirrors and glass. I know a trick to get us through though. Just stay close and keep your eyes on the ground.” 

She’d figured it out as a kid when she was solving a puzzle on a cereal box. If you always take the same direction for a turn, eventually you’ll find the end without getting hopelessly lost. As she went through, she did her best to tune out the voice. 

“We’re going to have to find a way to turn out the radiation sprayers,” she murmured, not sure if there was anything in the maze.

Gage stepped forward and disarmed a mine, sliding it into a pocket on Cherry’s pack without breaking their silent stride. 

“And if we can’t find this guy,” she continued, “we’re going to be here longer, right?” 

“Hey, boss?” 

“Hm?” 

“Anyone ever tell you you worry too much?” 

“This is important. I need to find my kid as soon as I can.” 

“Why does it matter?” he said, not antagonistically but not kindly either.

“Are you kidding me? He’s my baby! He can’t take care of himself here! How’s he supposed to grow up without me? Or learn? Who’s going to tuck him in at night? That monster that took him?” 

“Who cares who does it?” 

“I care.” Poison fell from her tongue in cold drips. “And if I recall, I’m in charge of you fucks, which means you have to care too.” 

They came to the end of the maze, and Cherry turned to the exit. 

She’d never admit it out loud, but she was frightened. The first time she’d been in a place like this, she had clung to her mom the entire time. Her mom had chatted to her about the building structure and how the mirrors worked, but Cherry had gripped her hand like God would reach down to pull her directly to heaven. 

You never really knew what was around the corner waiting to get you, to sink claws into your skin and hair and soul and drag you away.

“I wanted to bring him here one day.” 

“Who? The kid?” 

“Yeah.” 

As the two reached the end of the hall, they saw it. Something glowing green, eyes blank in their sockets, teeth bared. The sound of Gage’s gun burned in Cherry’s skull, but it did nothing to the human-shaped thing in the window above them. Something small dropped onto the conveyor belt before them. 

“Back!” Chery shouted. “Now!” 

She pushed Gage as hard as she could into the hallway. 

And she screamed. 

Chapter Text

"Thought you could get rid of me that easy?" 

Gage was going to strangle that ghoul when they found him. He could forgive violence, but goddamn did he talk too much. The voice was getting on his nerves. 

The boss was staring at the corner of the hallway where the grenade had gone off. Her deep red hair had slipped out of her ponytail, blending with the blood that spilled from a gash down her cheek. Her lips were moving silently. 

She was terrified. 

"Boss?" 

He reached out to her, earning that catatonic gaze turning to him. Her gray eyes watered. 

"Cover his eyes," she whispered. "Nate, did you cover his eyes?" 

"Who the fuck is Nate?" 

He recalled her mentioning the name the day before, but couldn't remember why it was important. Was that the kid's name? No. That was Shaun. Who was Nate supposed to be? 

"He'll go blind! Did you cover them?" 

She was crying. Great. 

"Snap outta it, boss!" 

She turned her head back to the corner without a word. 

"You're bleedin'. We'll fix you up and head keep going, yeah?" 

She said nothing as he wiped down her face, not even when the alcohol touched the wound directly. It was probably going to scar. 

He held her chin as he examined her for any further damage. One arm was red from a burn, the other looked broken. She must have caught his armor when she pushed him.

Damn woman. He could've taken the hit. Probably. 

After doing his best to straighten her arm, he injected her with a stimpack. Some lucidity came to her eyes as what Gage assumed was the adrenaline faded. 

"Thanks." 

Her voice was hollow and her face dead. 

"You alright, boss?" 

"Yeah." 

She stood up shakily. Walking towards the conveyor belt, she examined the door. 

"There’s no handle." 

"Time for the long way 'round, I guess." 

She nodded. 

"Come on, Nate. We need to go."

Jumping the spinning bottles was a pain in the ass. The boss made it look easy, but she didn't have a cage on her. When they got to the spinning spirals, she grabbed his hand and started leading him through. 

It was like dealing with an entirely different person. She was smaller somehow, demure. 

"Come on, Jean. You're useless at these things. If we don't hurry then Vazquez is going to find us before we can have some fun." 

She grinned and raised her eyebrows suggestively. 

Gage didn't know how to respond, so he let her pull him around. At the end, she was back to that catatonic shell. 

He had to clear the ghouls in the spinning room alone as she crouched into a ball. 

How in the hell did she get through the Gauntlet? 

He was ready to throttle her when she called out in the tiniest voice he'd ever heard, "Mami?" 

Damn it. 

He tried each door before pulling her into the hall of what he hoped was the right way. Judging by that ghoul's grandstanding, he was right. Jamming the door open with a chunk of debris, he carefully made his way to the boss. 

The boss looked up at him as he picked her up. 

"Where's Mami? She said she'd stay with me!" 

Gage wasn't sure what made him play along. 

"She's just through there." 

He waited until the floor positioned him in front of the door and stepped through with a dizzying pull of gravity sticking in one place. 

"We should stay here for now." 

The boss jerked out of his arms like a cat getting out of water, suddenly and without grace. 

"I have a knife! You tell me where Mami is right now or I'll use it!" 

Gage laughed mirthlessly and slid down the wall. This was his luck. Of course. Out of anyone who could have been boss, who could fake it through being a competent motherfucker, it was someone with some kind of memory issue. 

Mags was going to shoot him. If he was lucky. 

"Lemme see your eyes. Need to know if you have a concussion." 

The boss looked at him suspiciously, but knelt beside him. He held up a finger and moved it, seeing how she focused on different distances. 

"You seem good. Don't know what's wrong with you." 

He closed his eye and rubbed his face. 

"There's nothing wrong with me. I'm smart." 

He glanced at her. She was looking him full in the face, defiant. Gage sighed. 

"What year is it?" 

"Twenty-sixty-three!" 

She looked proud of herself. 

Well, fuck. 

"Who's Nate?" 

"I dunno." 

"What's my name?" 

Her expression faltered. 

"I dunno." 

"Where are you?" 

"Nuka-World!" She looked sheepish. "We came here for my birthday. I told Mami and Dad that I could handle a big crowd." 

"How old are you?" 

She paused, squinting. 

"Seven." 

He'd seen this in the few raiders who managed to live to a ripe old age. Their memories went, something would snap an old memory in their heads, and they were back in that moment.

"I don't know how to fix this, boss, but you need to snap out of it or we're both going to die." 

She looked to the room beyond, then back to Gage. Her face twisted with determination as she stood and held a hand out. 

"It's not that scary. We're not going to die." 

Gage stared at her. She emphatically shook her hand, asking for him to take it. 

"Mami said to stay put if I got lost, but I think it'll be safer if we get back to the front." 

Well, it's better than sitting here and moping. Maybe he could spin this somehow. Convince her to let him do all the talking. He just needed a figurehead anyway. 

He took her hand.

Gage was exhausted when they got to the back area. The ghoul was gone and so was the boss. She stared blankly through the window where the grenade had exploded. He'd tried maneuvering her to the bed he'd found, but she kept walking back to the window. 

"What did you mean about covering his eyes?" 

Gage had figured out that she could hold a conversation related to whatever she thought was going on. Figuring that out was the harder part. 

"Shaun. You need to cover his eyes or he'll go blind." 

"From what?" 

"The bomb," she said to nothing. 

Gage watched her for a moment, considering dragging her to the bed and holding her there until she passed out. 

"Dad said it was coming soon. He could feel it in his bones. But I didn't want to believe him." 

She turned to Gage then. Her face was red, eyes watery again. 

"If we hadn't... if you hadn't insisted on getting married, Shaun and I wouldn't have gone into a Vault." 

She moved to him, putting a hand on his face. The smallest of smiles flicked across her face as she rubbed a thumb over his cheek in a way that felt wrong, even to him.

"I'm sorry, Nate. I'm so sorry. I'll get him back." 

Her husband. Nate was her husband. 

"You need to sleep. Come on. It'll be alright in the morning." 

He really hoped so. 

Chapter Text

Cherry woke up with a headache that split her forehead right between her eyes. Her arms and face were somehow sore, and she didn’t recognize where she was. With a quick mental check of her faculties and a handy medical monitoring device built into the Pipboy, she learned that while she was a little ragged, she was okay. 

Gage sat on the floor, keeping an eye on two doorways. His armor leaned more toward his right shoulder, the eye patch hanging from a bar. His face was haggard, his eyes exhausted. Where the eyepatch would have been was scarred over with an old burn, light against his dirty tanned skin. 

When Cherry sat up, he rose to his feet quickly. 

“You alright?” 

“Yeah?” 

His eyes narrowed. 

“What year is it?” 

Cherry glanced at the Pipboy. 

“Twenty-two eighty-seven? It’s a Tuesday, if you care about that.” 

She grinned at him, but was met with a cold glare. 

“It’s about damn time, boss!” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“I dunno what the fuck that was you were doing, but that shit can’t happen again. You let one ounce of weakness show and I’m dead. You too. We can’t afford that shit. You understand that, right?” 

His voice increased in volume, cutting into the silence that seemed to stretch out past them into the rest of the building. 

“I ain’t here because I’m a charity. I ain’t for running this joint, but I sure as hell, ain’t here to die. You’re going to get your fucking act together, or I’m gonna take you out myself.” 

Cherry stood up, enraged because she had no idea where this was coming from and because she didn’t appreciate that sentiment one bit. 

“And what exactly did I do to upset you, huh? Did I talk too much for you? Did I ask the wrong question? Because I hate to  break it to you, I have no idea what’s going on! I didn’t sign up, I was drafted! I’m not here to die either so-” 

“So start fucking acting like it!” 

His shout echoed down the halls, tearing air apart and splitting Cherry’s ears. Her headache wasn’t getting any better. 

“What happened? We were fine just a minute ago. Grouchy, but fine!” 

“No we were not. You were sitting there like a child while I cleared this place out. Rambling on about your ma and who knows what else. Look, you want to freak out on me fine, but save it for when we’re not getting our asses handed to us.” 

Cherry sat back down. 

“The last thing I remember was the explosion. I thought I got knocked out or something.” 

Gage kicked a wall and screamed, “You don’t get to feel sorry for yourself! You think I don’t have nightmares? You think they don’t scream in the middle of the night? You get used to it. You keep powering through it and pretend you don’t hear your buddy crying in the middle of the night! If you’re like the rest of them, you get high and maybe it’ll all be a blur. That’s what you gotta do in this world. I dunno what kinda world you’ve been living in, but clearly this ain’t it. And if you think-” 

“It isn’t!” Cherry screamed back, not about to let him tear her down. She stood again, moving to just a few inches away, yelling into his face, “Why don’t you listen to me? I. Don’t. Know. Shit . Think you can get that through your thick head? I’ve been listening to you. I’ve convinced the other bosses that I’m some kind of shithead who gets off on violence like the rest of you, but I have no idea what I’m doing now!” 

“I have been nothing but patient with your ass! Out of anyone who survived it had to be you ?” 

Cherry took a step back, narrowing her eyes. 

“That’s right, I survived the Gauntlet. You may have helped with the end there, but everything else I did on my own. So you can back the fuck off and make sure we both get out of this alive.” 

Gage clenched his fist and made a move to swing, but dropped it and kicked the wall again. 

“Goddam! It’s like talking to a fucking brick wall!” 

“Tell me about it!” 

The voice crackled over the PA, dripping with annoying sarcasm, but didn’t get far before Cherry wrenched the gun out of Gage’s hand and shot the damn thing. She could hear him from some distant intercom but for now that wasn’t adding to her anger. 

She sighed into her palm, letting her hot morning breath run up her face. 

“Thank you for keeping an eye on me. I’ll talk to a doctor or whatever equivalent there is. See what’s wrong. And I’ll frame it as something else, don’t worry about getting gutted in your sleep.” 

“Fine. But don’t make a habit of apologizing. You’re the Overboss, not some farmer.” 

Cherry scoffed. 

“To the tunnels, right?” she asked after a pause. She handed him back his gun. 

“Yeah. You good to go?” 

“If I can eat, I’d be great.” 

Gage rummaged through her backpack and tossed her a can of beans. 

“Did you sleep?” 

“I don’t need to sleep yet. And I’m tired of talking. We move in five minutes.” 

Cherry suppressed a bitter smile as best she could, and holding down the urge to mimic his accent, said, “Yes, boss.”

It had taken them nearly an hour of navigating and putting down ghouls, but they found an employee tunnel entrance that wasn’t locked. The they didn’t speak as they cleared room after room. Gage seemed pleased when Cherry picked a lock, making their journey easier on them, but he said nothing aside from a snide comment about the room ahead of them that glowed with radiation. 

“We really gotta wade through this shit?” 

“You don’t. Stay here, and toss this when I get across.” 

She passed him her gun and tuned to the metal walkway where she could barely see a door. Cherry bit her lip, measuring the leap across the rickety wood plank meant to be a bridge of some sort. 

Don’t fall. Don’t fall. 

She crouched slightly, dipping her arms. With as much force as she could manage, she pushed herself over the bridge and stumbled slightly into the open doorway. The large pus-ridden ghoul turn a painted face to her and screeched. 

“Gun!” 

She caught it out of the air, firing two rounds into the ghoul’s skull. The wet smack of old skin and dead blood hitting the ground was the only sound in the fading echo of the blast. It crawled forward, slow, maw opening and closing in a wordless hunger. 

Cherry shot it again and again, until it no longer moved. 

Gage creaked across the bridge and sat heavily on the mattress in the corner of the room. 

“You sleep,” Cherry said curtly. “I’m going to go through this terminal.” 

Gage grunted, hesitantly undoing clasps of his armor and watching the door. 

“I’ll keep an eye out. Don’t worry.” 

He scoffed, “Don’t know how you’re going to live long with an attitude like that.” 

Cherry rolled her eyes. 

“You’re not going to live long if you keep talking shit.” 

Gage let a wry smile slip as he laid down, closing his eye and said, “That’s the spirit, boss.”

She didn’t know who any of these people were, but Cherry poured over the few files on the terminal. While they’d taken earlier breaks, she’d only gotten to take a quick look, but now that Gage was asleep, Cherry didn’t feel so guilty with taking her time. 

They were written by ghouls. The people who’d lived here. So not all of the ghouls went brain-dead, or at least not right away. Like that green one. 

Bits and pieces of the day before was bubbling to the surface. Little things, like the dizzying spinning walls and Gage carrying her to safety. She’d never blacked out like that, but she remembered some of the vets she’d gotten out of prison time, of sentences that would have resulted in death or a lifetime behind bars. 

“Destruction of government property.” That’s what the charges were. Every time. 

An old man, a kid, someone like Nate. It didn’t matter. They tried to kill themselves, and it was “destruction of government property” like they were setting fire to a field or erasing files. And all of them had this look in their eye. They were snuffed out lights staring into the world that was watching them as a sort of entertainment. Look at these deserters, broken people too young to be more than canon-fodder for a fight that was only a distant idea. While you teach your kids to hide under desks, we’ll make sure that these cowards are put away, for their own safety of course. 

In the darkened screen, Cherry could see that same look threatening her eyes. 

With a deft push of the enter key, she shut off the sprayers. Now they wouldn’t have to worry about the radiation spraying them the entire time. 

Whoever this Rachel was, Cherry wasn’t sure if she hoped she had succeeded or that she’d gone out peacefully. 

Chapter Text

Her mom was sitting in her home office, papers tacked to the walls and strewn across the floor. The ones that weren’t up to her standards were balled and tossed into the wastebasket in the corner of the room. Cherry was six years old, pouring over one of her mom’s designs. 

“I think this one is okay! I like the arches a lot!” 

“You don’t think it’s too much, sweetheart?” 

“No way! It looks like a castle.” 

Her mom chuckled and said, “Well maybe we’ll build that for your treehouse instead. They want something simple but elegant.” She snorted in disgust. “Minimalists.”

Cherry’s dad knocked on the door, leaning against the wall. 

“Are my princess and dolly ready to go? The ice cream’s going to melt.” 

Cherry narrowed her eyes. 

“Ice cream means camping.” 

“Or does camping mean ice cream?” Her dad waggled his eyebrows. 

“Almost done, love. Come look at this one, please? I need some solid designs to turn in to the client.” 

“Of course, my princess!” he exclaimed with faux drama. “Your knight comes to save the day!”

Cherry waited two hours before waking Gage up. He silently slipped his armor back over his head, got to his feet, and stepped out into the irradiated pump area, Cherry trailing close behind. The tunnel door they left through put them back at the funhouse which she warily passed by with some disdain. 

It was only once Cherry was in the relative open that she realized what the problem was: the sprinklers were still going. 

“I hope you don’t mind that I turned those defenses back on!” 

The voice, Cherry was now sure was one of the original ghouls. It followed her and Gage through the park leading up to the castle. By the time they reached the doors, the ghouls were crawling out of the woodwork, nearly each one getting in a scratch before the duo put them down. It was less about precision and more a carnival game of chance. 

Cherry was getting better at sneaking behind ghouls while Gage kept them busy. If she timed it right, a quick stab to the neck dropped painted horrors in a heartbeat. Gage, meanwhile, was a beast when it came to shooting from the hip. It wasn’t long before the ghouls were slipping on their own paint and blood. 

Back to the wall, Cherry wrapped a hand around a bar on Gage’s armor and threw him into the building, slamming the front door behind her as she used the weight to move.

The strain on her arms was almost unbearable. 

“Damn! Give a guy a little warning next time, huh?” 

“Yeah.” 

Cherry slid down the wood, trying to not think about the thumping and scratching on the other side. She busied herself with injecting a stimpack, downing some Rad-Away, anything else. But that damned green ghoul was calling from the next room, taunting. If she could have, Cherry would ignore him all day, just to spite him. But when the clawing against the windows silenced, she pulled herself to her feet. 

Gage was leaning against the ticket counter, cool as can be. He kicked himself away from the wall, drawing his gun as Cherry moved into the main theater room. 

Aside from a few ghouls on the ground, the room was empty. Silently, Cherry gestured for Gage to take a spot against the back wall. With a frown, he obeyed, keeping his gun trained on a ghoul in the main walkway. 

“Don’t be shy! Come to the stage, little raider.” 

She tiptoed around the corpses, pretending she was just dancing. 

God, how much more of my life going to be fake? 

“And now…” 

A gunshot punctuated the pause hanging in the air. 

“Oh great,” Gage muttered under his breath. 

“The show you’ve all been waiting for…” 

“I wasn’t planning on sleeping tonight anyway.” 

Cherry stood at the ready; Gage reloaded his gun. 

“Oswald the Outrageous!”

Smoke and the smell of rotten flesh filled the room. 

Gage’s eye widened from across the theatre. His gun moved up, fired, but the smoke went off again as Oswald appeared on the ground floor. 

His skin was an iridescent green, glowing veins criss-crossing down his face into the dusty tuxedo jacket. It was the mouth that burned into Cherry’s mind. The permanent smile carved his head into nearly two pieces, the light creeping into the space between them looking like it was sewing the skull together. 

A shiver went down her spine as she realized that Oswald would most definitely be joining her nightmares. 

Oswald was about to speak when Gage sent a bullet through his skull. 

“What the fuck!” Cherry screamed, jumping back in surprise. 

The ghoul dropped to the ground, releasing a green glow. The other bodies around the theatre rose with him. A chunk of his head regenerating. 

“Don’t be scared, little raider.” 

He grinned wickedly and disappeared in a puff of smoke. 

Fear stuck Cherry to the stage as Gage dropped ghouls. She tried to will herself to move, fight, anything at all, but her body stood fast until Gage was in her face. Whatever he was saying, she wasn’t processing. Something was stinging her palms. Everything was too bright, and Cherry was sure she was going to puke. 

“-mon, boss! Snap out of it!” 

She dropped to the ground and let loose the beans she’d eaten earlier. 

In her mind, the bile burned a hole in the stage, spreading until the entire building was melting into the ground. 

“He didn’t die.” 

“Yeah. Glowing ones are fuckin’ bastards. You need some Rad-X. Those shits are pure radiation.” 

Cherry turned one of her hands palm up, observing where her nails had made crescent indentations into the skin. This wasn’t how the world was supposed to go. There should be space travel, exploring with aliens. Strides in medical studies. By now humanity should have solved world hunger and cancer and everything wrong with the world. Not pushing a sawed-off shotgun into ancient animated corpses. 

Cherry puked again. 

“How are we supposed to take care of that?” 

“You gotta kill him, boss,” Gage answered with a small shrug of a shoulder.

“No I don’t.” 

“You’re a raider now.” 

“And who’s going to see me, Gage? You? I’m your ticket out of hot water, so you’re not going to say shit. I’m not going to say shit.” 

“What are you going to do? Leave this park for last? They’ll find out when they get here and you were too soft to get rid of the problem.” 

Oswald. Oswald. Why does that name mean something? 

Cherry racked her brain trying to think, but came up blank until Gage glared up at the ceiling muttering about the stage collapsing over them at the pace they were going.

He was with Rachel. 

The entries weren’t that old. There was a chance she could leverage this. Somehow.

“Stay here.” 

Cherry stood up, shrugging off her weapons. 

“I fuckin’ swear, if you-” 

“Who’s the boss here?” 

Gage squinted, putting his hands up in mock surrender.

The elevator ride made Cherry sweat. It felt too long for the short distance up. Maybe it was the old machinery screeching that really did it for her. She found herself looking at the hatch above, the ragged carpeting underfoot, the rusting on the doors, anything but the needle clicking as floor after floor passed. 

Finally, the door opened with a creak to an empty room. Once it must have been some kind of storage area, but now it housed barrels of something irradiated based on the glow pouring off of them. Cherry put her hands in the air, head down, the posture she’d learned in elementary school as a just in case you’re taken hostage. 

With a puff of smoke, Oswald appeared, a sword limply swinging in his right hand. 

“You Raiders are all the same. You come into someone’s home, steal their belongings, and kill those they care about.” 

“I’m not one of them. This can end without bloodshed. “ 

“We’ve defended this place for two hundred years. You’re not the first liar I’ve met. You brand my friends as ‘feral’ to justify yourself. As though it’s a favor to the world!” 

“Wait. You’ve been here for two hundred years? Why?” 

Cherry listened to him, asking questions only when there was a pause at the end of a sentence. There were people like her still alive. These ghouls she’d been killing were only different because luck hadn’t favored them as much as her. 

“Oswald, I’m so sorry.” 

He blinked back surprise. 

“They aren’t the same people you knew. I’ve been reading the diary entries on the computers. I know about Dean. Herman.” Cherry paused, wincing internally. “Rachel.” 

“She’s coming back with a cure, and then everything will go back to normal! You don’t know anything!” 

Oswald brought his hand up as though to throw something, but Cherry held her hands up, reminding him that she wasn’t here to fight. 

“Oswald… I understand what you’re going through. That’s why I’m doing what I am. Some people took my son, and I’m trying to get him back. They shot my… his father. Right in front of me. My best friend. They took him and my baby.” 

Cherry was starting to spiral. With a deep breath, she centered herself. 

“There isn’t a sudden fix to everything. God, I wish there was. If there were, then maybe the bombs wouldn’t have gone off.” 

“I would have married Rachel.” 

“I would have brought Shaun here for his birthday.” 

The two shared a tentative, shaky smile. Cherry felt a bloom of pride for not gagging at the way his lips split the glowing light into more shards.

“You were there? When it happened?” 

Cherry nodded, allowing herself to sink into the ground. She was suddenly so tired. 

“My friend, my baby’s father, he was a vet. They had him pre-approved for Vault space. But it ended up being an experiment or something.” 

“You don’t look like two-hundred years old.” 

She snorted, a harsh sound that was quickly carried away by the wind. 

“You’re really not like them.” 

Oswald cautiously joined her on the floor. 

“I’ve only been here for a week. I was just passing by and got swept into all of this. If I fail, even once, I’m dead. And who knows what they’ll do to Shaun. Whoever has him.” 

“Those raiders don’t?” 

“No. And I killed the guy in charge, so now I’m in charge? And I…” Cherry looked at Oswald’s eyes, trying to push away the horror from the ground floor before continuing on,

“They want me to clear out the parks.” 

“That’s why you came here.” 

“I thought that- I’m sorry.” 

“I understand. You don’t know anything about the world.” 

“I don’t think there’s a cure, either.” 

“You can’t know that.” 

“If there was, then it would have been made by now. It’s been centuries. And Gage talked about… people like you existing outside here.” 

“Ghouls. I’m a ghoul.” 

“Sorry.” 

Oswald waved a hand dismissively. 

“I can’t leave. That’s what you’re trying to get around to, isn’t it?” 

“Please. If there is anything out there that can cure you, it’s not here.” 

“But Rachel-” 

“Hasn’t come back in a year. Right?” 

Oswald closed his eyes. 

“Right.” He steadied himself with an inhale. “I can’t- I won’t believe that the worst has happened.” 

“What if I bring you… some kind of proof? Something of hers. Where would she have gone? Or did she have a plan?” 

“We had a house. It might have been destroyed. Personnel housing.” 

“I’ll try to find her. Will that help?” 

Oswald stared at Cherry in a way that made her skin crawl. Like he was going to take her and throw her off of the tower. 

“I don’t know how you’d get there from here.” 

Cherry held up her Pip-boy. 

“It’s loaded with a map. Could you point it out on that?” 

He nodded. 

Chapter Text

Gage finished his fourth cigarette by the time the boss stepped out of the elevator. She wasn’t bloody, torn apart, or puking. So clearly something else was going on. 

“You ready for a hike?” 

“A what?” 

“We’re going to get this guy to leave without killing him.” 

And she walked away like it wasn’t the stupidest shit he’d heard all year. And he had the misfortune of knowing Red-Eye. 

“If we kill him, then we’re stuck with hordes of ghouls popping out of the ground. All we have to do is bring him proof his girlfriend is dead, and he’ll take off with the horde.

And he’s going to go without a fight.” 

“Well shit. Anything else? Some top shelf bourbon?” 

“Just trust me on this. Okay?” 

“Say I do trust you. Where are we heading?” 

“Bradberton.” 

“Great. More ferals. This day just gets better.” 

The boss turned on him, a fire in her eyes. 

“I’m not ready to kill people like you are. Alright? You sure as hell are making it sound like a good idea the way you’re talking. I’m not a raider anymore than he is.” She jammed a finger into the air towards the ceiling. “I’m going to go to 107 Cola Avenue and look for any signs of this woman and nothing you can do will stop me, Porter.” 

Gage straightened up, pulling his gun over his shoulder. He squinted at the way that his first name fell like lead from her tongue.

“You’re fucking lucky I die if you do.” 

With a dry smile, the boss walked off down the stage and out of the side door.

The hour-long walk was uneventful. The sun was still high in the sky by the time they arrived at the shattered building. 

“Fuck.” 

The boss ran the last of the way, crawling over the rubble. 

“Well. I think we found her!” 

Gage hurried to the corpse of a ghoul with a pistol in their hand. 

“We can’t carry her all the way back to the park, boss.” 

After a moment of pursing her lips and looking around, she knelt by the body, carefully running her hands over pockets. Nothing she pulled out seemed to be useful aside from a can of beans. 

Gage stood around awkwardly as the boss hefted up the ghoul by the shoulders and laid her out on the sleeping bag. That was when he noticed the holotape. 

“We gotta get to a terminal for this to be useful,” Gage held the holotape up between two fingers. 

“No we don’t.” 

The boss popped open a holotape deck on her Pipboy and slid the tape in with a fluid move. 

They listened as the ghoul on the ground explained how she came to kill herself. 

“This is it, then. We take this to Oswald, and then he’ll leave.” 

“Yeah, alright. And I’ll make sure there’s enough firepower to handle him when he doesn’t.” 

She chuckled. 

“You have fun with that, Gage.”

They tensely rode up the elevator. Gage wasn’t taking no for an answer on this. He was going up this time. 

“Who is this?” The ghoul drew a sword and advanced. 

“Oswald, it’s okay. He’s not going to try anything. Right, Porter?” 

“Right, boss.” 

For the too-many-th damn time today, Gage put his hands up in mock surrender. 

“We found this. Rachel left it for you.” 

The ghoul broke down as he listened to the strained voice over the speaker. A weaker man would have felt for him.

“I shouldn’t have let her go. I should have-” 

“You wouldn’t have convinced her to stay, Oswald. She was determined.” 

He nodded blankly. 

“I’ll take my friends. Maybe we’ll have more luck. This won’t be in vain. I… thank you. I don’t know your name.” 

“Cherry.” 

The ghoul smiled mirthlessly, “I get it.” He gestured to the boss’ pinned back hair.

“Pretty sure it was my dad’s idea, but it was better than the other things on the list. Don’t think I look like much of a Liberty.” 

Gage watched in surprise as the ghoul walked over to a machine and the sound of the sprinklers finally stopped. 

“Those won’t bother you anymore. I hope you find your child. And take these. I won’t need them anymore.” 

Gingerly, the ghoul handed the boss his sword and hat. 

“Be safe, Oswald.” 

“You too, Cherry.”

They sat on the ledge of the tower, eating cold beans out of the can. Every so often, the boss would untie then retie her hair, look up at the flagpole, and then take a bite of her food. 

“Maybe we hold off until we clear two more parks?” 

“And go back to Nuka-Town without any results?” 

“I mean… they weren’t the ones who killed Colter.” 

Gage barked out a laugh. 

“I think the Pack should get it. They’d love it.” 

“What makes you say that, boss?” 

“Just look at it. It’s big enough for them to run around doing their thing. The colors are bright like them. And look-” 

She held a finger out at the giant wheel. 

“From there, they’d be able to keep watch over the others.” 

“Why trust the Pack to do that?” Gage raised his eyebrow and stared openly at the woman beside him.

There was something in her eye that said she was planning, something. 

“The Operators want money. I saw what that drive does to people. They’ll turn the moment that someone offers them something better. The Disciples want to kill willy-nilly. I don’t. The Pack would do anything if they’re given the ‘respect’ of the first park.” 

That’s not everything.

“Fair enough.” 

“Care to do the honors?” 

“Huh?” 

“You’ve been waiting for this longer than anyone. Hoist up the first flag.” 

She pulled up a tattered flag with the Pack’s colors from her bag. 

“You’re the boss, though. Those assholes will think-” 

“You see anyone else here?” 

She raised an eyebrow cockily. 

“Alright then.” 

Gage hooked the flag up to the pole and turned the crank until the flag waved in the air. 

The boss put a hand on his shoulder, grinning at him as he turned to face her. 

“Looks like we’re making progress.”

When they got back to Nuka-World, the crowd was a mix of anger and pride. 

“You’re going to need to say something about your choice, you know.” 

“I think I got it.” 

She motioned for Gage to follow her up the lift. The crowd surged behind them, threats and cheers falling into a deafening cry. 

The moment the lift hit the top, the boss yelled out a stunningly loud “Quiet!” 

When no one listened, she took a gun and shot it into the air. 

“You want to listen for a second?” 

Some of the crowd backed up into the pool to get a good look at the makeshift stage. 

“Now as you might have seen,” she paused, looking at the crowd before raising her voice, “we have the first park!” 

Cheers and boos scattered across Nuka-Town. 

“I’m hearing some complaints. Which is funny considering what I did in three days, no one did in a year. So how about you take a moment and celebrate with the rest of us!” 

She pumped a fist in the air. 

“Two days from now, we take another!” 

The boos were now replaced with hopeful cries of gang names. 

“Drink up, folks! We’ve earned a party!” 

She turned on her heel and made a sound of disgust at the room around her. 

“First things first. I’m going to take a nap. Then maybe I’ll tackle the rest of the junk in here.” 

“Two days?” 

“Resting is just as important as pushing. If we’re running from park to park to clear everything then we’re going to collapse. Besides, I figured you’d be up for some recon.” 

“Pardon?” 

“I just said it. We’ve got a party tonight. And if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s throw a party.” 

Chapter Text

It didn’t matter where the party was going to be, a college dorm, suburbia, or a city bar, the host rules were the same for it to be successful. Food, drink, and music were necessary. Visit everyone important once and only once so no one feels as though you favor them more than another; no one is too small for a conversation though. Have a second in command to deal with minor issues that may arise while so you can focus on putting out the actual fires. 

“And that’s where you come in.” 

Cherry busied herself with clearing out the glass bottles of alcohol into her backpack to transport them down to the ground where people were already celebrating. 

“I think you might be putting too much stock in this, boss.” 

“Nope. This is their first real taste of me in charge. They need to associate it with celebration instead of just a plain break between parks. Everyone, not just whoever gets the park.” 

“That’s…” 

“I’ve been doing this for a long time, Gage. The nice thing about this,” Cherry motioned for him to follow her to the lift, “is that throwing a party for a bunch of depraved raiders is going to actually be fun.” 

Cherry hit the button down with her elbow and shifted the bag hanging from her shoulder. The glass tinked as the lift touched the ground. With a firm step, she walked to the small diner on her left. 

Only a trader sat near it, cowering when Cherry approached. She winked at him with a roguish grin and gestured for him to open the door. 

Inside was grimier than most everything else, but the rolling metal sheets that cut off the shack from the outside world still functioned with a little force. 

“Who can cook around here?” she asked the trader. 

“Um… Miss Plummer.” 

“Would you mind going to get her?” 

“Yes, Overboss.” 

Cherry gently put a hand out to the trader, speaking softly, “My name is Cherry. You all can all me that.” 

“Okay, Ov- Cherry.” 

The man hurried out. 

“That wasn’t very wise, boss.” 

“It was human. Which is what they need. Now help me with these.” 

Cherry watched as he started to pull on the chain, only to have his armor knock a stack of plastic wrapped cups down on him. Stifling a laugh, she looked on as Gage turned to glare at the offending cups only to down some plates. 

“Come on, you gotta take that off every now and again.” 

Gage grumbled something under his breath and went to unhook the clasps on his side. 

“Here, let me help.” 

Cherry was at his side before he could protest, hands running across the metal to find all the clasps and belts holding the cage together. 

“If we’re going to be running together, I need to know how to get this off of you.” 

“Pardon?” Gage stiffened. 

“If I need to do CPR or you get knocked unconscious. I need to be able to move you, and Lord knows I can’t do that with this shit on you.” 

“Fair enough.” 

Gage let her fiddle with the armor, only occasionally intervening before something was pulled too tight. A few minutes later, the armor was shucked off into a corner and an older woman was approaching. 

She was definitely not a raider, but she wasn’t collared either. Her sunken eyes pierced the scene unfolding around her, raiders moving out of her way as she walked, the trader who sent for her following on her heels. 

“Well, hello there, boss. I was wondering when I’d get to meet you.” 

Cherry smiled at the woman warmly and hopped onto the grimy countertop. 

“I hear you can cook!” 

Miss Plummer smiled back. It looked foreign on her face. 

“That I can,” she rasped. 

“Well, tonight we’re celebrating taking the first park. Think you can help out?” 

“What can I do for you?” 

“Tonight, we’re going to use up everything you’ve got in stock. And tomorrow morning, you and I are going to fix up your work space and make it as functional as possible.” 
Miss Plummer starred first blankly then with surprise. 

“What do you mean, fix up my work space?” 

“Sorry. I assumed it’s about as put together as the rest of Nuka World.” 

“You’d be right. But I don’t see the point.” 

“I’ve got some plans in the works for this place. Something that will suit both the traders and the gangs. And it starts with cleaning up Nuka-Town.” 

“And why my cafe first?” 

Cherry paused. 

Good food had been rare for the normal people before the bombs. Between plants going extinct and rationing, it was nearly impossible to find more than boxed snacks and watered down milk. And even then, you needed coupons for the milk. The country had tried to appease people in the last few years by having government sanctioned birthday treats, a visit to a restaurant where the celebrant was allowed an appetizer, meal, and dessert. The drawback was that every time you accepted the offer, your social identification number was put into the draft lottery to be pulled once you were of age - unless you had extenuating circumstances by that point. But the chance for a good meal was too good a deal. 

“There are a few things people need to be comfortable. Shelter, food, and water. You provide one of the basic necessities.” 

“But why clean it up?” 

“I want to make sure that what you provide is the best you can do. If your customers get sick from getting something into an open wound or from a bad batch of meat, then you lose customers who think they can do better. But we give them something that they can enjoy, then when my plan goes into full swing, you’ll be able to make caps hand over fist.” 

Miss Plummer nodded thoughtfully, then stuck out her hand. 

“It’s a deal, then.” 

Cherry shook firmly. 

“Then get who you need and cook up a meal fit for the first real party this place has seen.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

The old woman walked away, chatting to the shivering man. 

“Well, boss. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that devil smile.” 

“My old job was all about convincing people to see things my way. They were just lucky my way was good. Now help me clean this shit up. I’ve got to practice my cocktails.”

What few radios there were around Nuka-Town were cranked up to full volume in an attempt to drown out the ruckus in the street. Pack members climbed up trees to howl at the moon. Disciples had set up a knife throwing contest that was devolving into some strange sort of orgy. Operators had opened up some of the derelict booths in an attempt to resurrect grotesque assumptions of carnival games. And among all of that, in her little diner booth, Cherry sold cheap mixed drinks. 

Miss Plummer had made good on her end of the deal and brought nearly an entire bar’s worth of liquor as well as mutfruit, tomatoes, and near endless bottles of Nuka Cola.

Between the food she cooked and the alcohol Cherry sold, the party was in full swing. 

With each drink, Cherry got in a short conversation with the people she was meant to be in charge of and got an understanding of the politics going on. 

Everyone felt more entitled to the parks than the other. Disciples and the Pack were sure that the Operators were going to try to take over. Operators were positive that Nisha was going to try to slit the bosses’ throats in the middle of the night the moment they relaxed. Mason was supposedly fucking everyone he could, no matter the gang. Mags was fucking a Disciple. Or more interestingly, William was actually a vampire. There was definitely a point when the gossip turned into wild conjecture and the food was gone. 

Cherry stepped back and proceeded to clear patrons. 

Gage sat back on a rickety chair, smoking a cigarette and frowning at the raiders who complained about the end of their supply. 

“Help me out with these?” Cherry waved a hand at the metal sheets. 

“So, boss, how much did we make tonight?” 

Gage ground out his cigarette as Cherry looked over at the large wooden boxes filled with caps. A few were spilling over onto the floor from the two hastily tossing the offerings to make the drinks. 

“Enough. You know, you’re not a bad bartender. A little scrubbing and you could have fit right in with that crowd back in my time.” 

“That so?” 

Gage arched an eyebrow and finished pumping the crank that slammed the partitions to the counter. 

“Yeah. A couple of well placed tattoos and a softer eyepatch? You’d have been quite the looker.” 

He scoffed and proceeded to wipe up the spills on the counter. 

Entranced for a moment by the now enclosed space and the soft movements of Gage’s shoulder blades, Cherry bit her lip. She shook her head, trying unsuccessfully to push the idea of him from her mind.

It’s been too long since the last good fuck. That was-

Cherry froze.

Nate.

Instead of focusing on that, Cherry started making herself the closest thing to a screwdriver. 

“God, seriously, boss?” 

“What? It’s a party! You can’t tell me you really don’t drink.” 

“Nope.” 

“Oh.” Cherry set the purple abomination on the table. “It probably would have tasted like shit anyway.” 

“You can drink. I’m just gonna give you a hard time about it.” 

Cherry watched Gage’s hand gripping the scrub brush. 

I bet you could. Wait. No. Down, girl.

“It’s fine. I still need to meet up with the bosses. Help me haul up these caps, and you can go party with everyone else.” 

“Yeah, right. Like I’m gonna let you go around here by yourself right now.” 

“I can walk around on my own.” 

He shrugged. 

“Maybe.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I’m more concerned about you killing the mood out there.” 

Cherry rolled her eyes. 

“Come on. Just help me with these.”

An hour later, on the balcony, the other leaders sat around a table that Cherry had dragged near the kitchenette earlier that day. There was less dirt now, though the wind did still blow some through the broken window.

“Awful bold,” Mags said, studying her nails, “throwing a party for one group and then inviting all of us into your sanctum.” 

“You’ll each get a party like this. This is more to distract the restless ones out there anyway. For now we need to have a discussion.” 

Mason settled into his chair. The others seemed much more restless. 

“I understand that this isn’t ideal for the Disciples and Operators, but someone had to be first. The Pack is the largest group here and giving them this will both allow everyone some more room to actually breathe and set things up for the way things are going to go in the future.” 

“And how’s that?” William asked, eyes narrowing. 

“What do you know about this place? The whole of it.” 

“Some kind of brainwashing thing?” Mason asked. “Get people to buy shit they don’t need or some fuck like that.” 

“One hundred percent right. People came from across the country to spend thousands here. That’s what the Operators want, right?” 

William and Mags nodded thoughtfully. 

“Well we might be able to get that going again,” Cherry continued, pretending that she cared in the slightest about building back up the backbone of corporatism. “And as for the Disciples, have you noticed how much of the broken buildings around here can be adjusted to suit your Gauntlet?” 

“Keep talking.” 

“Part of my plan will involve phasing out the traders as something we have to be dependent on.”

The bosses collectively rose to their feet, but Cherry held up a hand, silencing the complaints and threats on their lips. 

“But! That doesn’t mean that they’ll be leaving. Or that the Gauntlet has to suffer. Hear me out. I’ve already given you more than Colter ever did, haven’t I?” 

“She’s got a point,” Mason said, taking his seat again. 

“Of course, you’d say that. You have something. What do we get?” Nisha growled. 

Cherry placed a map down on the splintering coffee table. 

“These are the different parks. There’s only five. If I split them past each of you getting one park, then we have space to work as a unit in the smaller ones. Neutral zones.” 

“And why would we want that?” Mags seemed interested at least, leaning forward with her elbows resting on her knees, fingers laced beneath her chin. 

“I spent all night talking with your underlings. Newbies to vets. There’s a lot of them that get along. A couple in relationships. Neutral zones would break up some of the tension that seems to be taking over everything here.” 

“It ain’t that bad a plan,” Gage piped up from a seat at the bar. “But I still don’t see what that’s gotta do with the traders.” 

Cherry scowled. 

Because slavery is disgusting and too close to home.

“I’ve got my own reasons for why I want to phase out the traders, but as far as what’ll convince you. Mason, you work with caged animals. What happens when you get some that are too wild.” 

“Break ‘em.” 

“And the ones you can’t?” 

“They die.” 

“Which is all well and good, unless you rely on those animals to smooth things out. Like, for example, be the ones who handle all of the business coming into Nuka World. Or fixing machines and buildings. The pipes. Pretty much anything infrastructure related.” 

“We’ve got them settled,” Nisha snarled. 

“Not Miss Plummer over at the Cafe.” 

“She’s… a special case.” 

“But she shouldn’t be.” 

“Then collar her.” 

“No. What I mean is that instead of relying on them, we pay them. Give them clothes, food, and lodging. Take them on as employees instead of slave labor. They have experience with the Nuka-Town. No one in their right mind would turn down having some of the strongest raiders protecting them. Not just taking everything they own, but actual protection.” 

“Sounds less like raiders and more like mercs, boss.” Nisha threw the word out like it was the knife at her belt.

One at a time, Cherry.

“I want my guys to be sharper than whatever the hell went on while Colter was breathing. That shit I saw when I got here? Everyone half chemed with their dicks out? That isn’t going to fly anymore. I have my own debts I’m going to be collecting on, and I don’t want to have my people to go in half-assed.”

Cherry glared from her seat, never once raising either her body or voice. Cherry had gone to school for too long to leave convincing rhetoric at the door.

“Once everything is settled, they run the business side of things. You still get your cuts. Your Gauntlet will still be up to you to adjust, Nisha, but we use it as a proving ground. Picture it: idiots from all over coming over trying to join up with the greatest gangs this side of the Mississippi. But if they want to join, they need to run the Gauntlet.” 

Nisha rubbed her hands together and leaned back in her seat. 

“Hold on now, boss,” Mason stood before Nisha could be persuaded. 

“Let me get this straight. Operators get their park and their caps. Disciples get their park and their death trap. What else does the Pack get?” 

Cherry finally stood, meeting Mason’s offensive style stance with relaxed shoulders and a cool stare. Maintaining eye contact, she firmly put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down into his chair. He didn’t fight, which seemed to impress the others at least mildly. 

“You get what I give you,” she said soft enough to only just be heard. “Responsibility.” 

“Everyone I spoke to today says that your Pack are the fastest runners. We need people to who can’t be bought or will go into a blood frenzy. No offense to Mags, William, and Nisha, but that rules out everyone but the Pack.” 

The other bosses grunted in confirmation, but not very enthusiastically. 

Cherry sat back down, crossing her ankles and reaching for her bottle of water. She took a quiet sip, and put the bottle back down with a dull thud by the map, drawing everyone’s eye back to the colorful printout that had been laminated and therefore survived two hundred years of decay.

“While your people are loyal to you, they aren’t going to open to me unless I pour these wins into your laps. You’ll each get a park. And in return all I ask is that we start rebuilding the destruction around here.” 

“Raiders don’t rebuild, boss.” Gage stretched out his legs. “I’m not sayin’ that cause I don’t agree with the plan. I’m sayin’ it because it’ll be pulling teeth to do all of this stuff you wanna do.” 

“Which is why I’m talking to my incredibly competent seconds. I might be Overboss, but you’re the ones keeping me in power. I’m not stupid, even an idiot could tell that no one in this role can get far without the four of you on board. Your people are loyal to you. If you can be loyal to me, then we’ll get this situation cleared up and we can move onto bigger plans.” 

Mags raised an eyebrow. “Bigger plans?” 

Cherry sat back down, hands steepled. 

“I mentioned debts to collect. Before I boarded the train, I was looking for someone. He kidnapped someone important to me. I’m telling you this, because I’m going to rain hell on whoever took him. And who can guess the best way to handle it?” 

No one spoke, but Gage’s mouth quirked once into almost a grin and straightened back out again. 

“I’m going to back him into a corner and bring down the most powerful gangs on anyone who tries to stop me.” 

“Wait, boss,” Mason’s gears were turning as he looked up, eyes shining. “You mean we’re going into the Commonwealth.” 

Cherry nodded and took in the bosses’ greedy smiles. 

“Well then. I think we have an agreement.” Mags stood, William shortly following. 

Cherry held up a hand and pointed at the map. 

“There’s still the matter of sorting out the parks.” 

Mags set a finger down on the World of Refreshment. 

“Done. Unless Nisha has any objections?” 

She shook her head. 

Mags and William went to the lift and descended into the fray on the ground. 

“Well then, Nisha. Do you have a preference for the parks?” 

“We don’t need a big one. I want something well fortified.” 

Cherry took a long look at the map. The Galactic Zone was too widespread for a solid defense. Safari Adventure looked just as sprawling. Which only left Dry Rock Gulch. 

“How about this one? Only two entrances, enough space for Gauntlet projects, training, and sleeping arrangements.” 

“Hm. Not too bad. And it seems to have enough natural defense. It’s as good as any other.” Nisha readied herself to leave, but paused. “I expect mine to be handled next.” 

“Of course.” 

Nisha hit the button for the lift. Within seconds, she was gone. 

Mason let out a low whistle while Gage settled into the now abandoned couch. 

“Well, you handled that pretty well, boss. But now that you’re not putting up a front, what’s the Pack really getting?” Mason gave Cherry a toothy smile. 

“I said what I said. Responsibility. Or in terms that I can use now that they’re gone.” Cherry said with a firmly neutral face. “Freedom and respect. You’ll be handling the supplies from Nuka-Town to the others until we can get more traders on our side.” 

“Don’t sound like much.” 

“And that’s why the others won’t care about how much power you’ll really have. How Nuka World runs once everything is intact is going to depend on your Pack. Out of all of the people I talked to today, the Pack were the ones who, even at their drunkest, kept people in line. That’s who I want in charge of supplies.” 

“Man! You’re pretty convincing!” Mason laughed. “What were you some kind of politician out in the Commonwealth?” 

“Nah. I just kept balance and got people out of trouble.” 

Gage put his feet up on the coffee table and let out a low whistle. 

“Lord knows that’s what we need right now,” he said taking a swing from a bottle of Nuka Cola. 

“I don’t make deals the way those stuck-ups do. If we’re going to have an agreement, we’re gonna drink. You too, you surly motherfucker.” 

“Not happening,” Gage said with a clenched jaw.

“Special occasions call for special pleasures, Gage.” 

Mason set down a brown bottle with a faded, peeled label. Uncorking it, he pushed the bottle towards Cherry. She didn’t give herself enough time to think herself out of it. 

The burn was worse than she remembered. There was a long list of possible bad first drinks after a little over a year of turning down the social comfort, but this quickly jumped to the top. 

Gage made a disgusted face as Cherry handed the bottle over, which only deepened when it touched his tongue. 

“What in the goddamn is that?” 

Mason laughed, “What? Don’t like Deathclaw Piss?” 

“That is the worst name for a drink. You know that, right?” 

Mason emptied half the bottle before re-corking and setting it at his feet. 

“So, boss. This person you're looking for.” 

Cherry stiffened. 

“Who is he?” 

“I’m already on it,” Gage said, challenging Mason to continue. 

“Of course. I was just gonna send out a few guys to poke around. Ask some questions.” 

“I’m already on it.” 

The edge in his voice could have sliced the tension in a courtroom.

“I got it! I got it! Cool down, Gage. Just offering our Overboss my services. Well if this sorry ass is gonna try and bring the mood down, I’m gonna take my sorry ass over to the party. Thanks for the park, boss.” 

“Night, Mason. Don’t kill anyone.” 

“Ha!” 

After the coast was clear, Cherry sank into the chair and passed Gage the water. He took it, and swished some in his mouth before swallowing.

“You didn’t actually drink it,” Cherry said after some calming quiet.

“Hell no I didn’t. Everything he makes tastes like the shit end of a pack brahmin.”

Cherry snorted as she stood up.

“I’m going to go make something for dinner. I’ll leave you some on the stove.”

“Thanks, boss.”

Cherry paused in the doorway, doing her best not to turn back and make Gage spill everything.

“Have you… heard anything yet? About Shaun?”

“Not yet, boss. I’ve got someone doing some digging in Diamond City. Supposed to be some private eye or some shit out that way.”

Cherry nodded and shut the door behind her.

Chapter Text

A little past daybreak, Cherry pulled herself out out of her hammock. She rummaged through the now neatly folded pile of clothes, trying to find the Red Rocket jumpsuit and an undershirt. Outside the windows, raiders slept in scattered mattresses in various states of undress. For a moment, Cherry stared. 

Then she unhooked her bra and tossed it into a drawer. 

Quickly, she dressed. After a quick run through of her kitchen’s stock, she frowned and stared down the door to the rest of Fizztop, which she considered Gage’s room more than anything. Even if he had only a small portion blocked off by canvas, it was still weird to just walk in. 

Technically, she could. She was supposed to be in charge, so if he complained then it was no big deal. But if he was her second-in-command, then she should give him his own space. 

The door opened shortly after Cherry moved to dig for something edible. 

“Rise and shine, boss.” 

“Over here. Looking for something to eat,” she said from the kitchenette. 

Gage gave Cherry a once over, then gave a curt nod. 

“Yeah, Colter didn’t really keep anything other than the liquor here. I didn’t want that shit in the main room.” 

Something in his face dropped a little. 

“Have you eaten yet?” Cherry asked quickly. “I can make something.” 

“Uh, no. I mean -  no, I ain’t eaten yet. There’s some salted brahmin and some beans, I think.” 

“I’ll see what else we can put together, if that’s alright?” 

Cherry pulled on her fingers, trying to make them pop, a bad habit she’d picked up from her mom. She walked down the hall, mind spinning as she thought about the easiest way to refill the holes in the walls. It soothed her nerves. Always had. 

Gage and Cherry each carried a duffel bag packed with caps as they walked over to Cappy’s. The sleeping raiders curled around bottles and each other in a way that was almost adorable. Paint smeared faces and buildings, alcohol soaked into already dead plants, inhalers littered the ground. And the raiders snored at the rising sun. 

Miss Plummer was waiting at the counter with a thin young man. Aside from them, the cafe was empty. 

“Well, hello there, boss. Got a little worried that you might have forgotten about us. This is Kieth. He runs the kitchen.” 

Cappy’s Cafe was cleaner than Cherry had expected. The whole place could have used a fresh coat of paint, some Abraxo, and maybe less severed heads, but altogether it wasn’t so bad. The kitchen was decently organized, at least. 

Gage left shortly after dropping his duffel to the floor. 

“I got some things to take care of,” was all he said to preface his exit. 

Cherry set her mind to the task at hand.

In college, she’d joined a club that went out to small towns that had lost most of its population to feeding the war machine. There had been a trip every other weekend, and it helped mitigate her stress when she was worried. It was mostly yard work or storm relief. Things that, once you got in a rhythm, let you sweat out your worries. 

One of her favorite trips was visiting Nahant in her freshman year. A hurricane had passed through. It was fall. She’d just failed her first big exam. She missed her parents who had moved into New York for the new school year. 

The old woman hosting her for the weekend - Ms. Kenway - had asked for help with putting up sheetrock and resetting windows in the local community center. She was a kind lady who insisted that Cherry needed homemade cookies every few hours and a walk on the jetties every evening. Ms. Kenway’s house was small and packed full of knick-knacks, ol knit blankets, and holotapes with music Cherry had never heard before. 

“Oh, dear,” she had said when Cherry asked where to put her bag, “I’m afraid you’ll have to sleep on the couch. Don’t think any less of me, it’s just the guest room was flooded.” 

“I can fix that for you.” 

“Oh! No! The community is more important right now.” 

“It’s not any trouble.” 

“If there’s time, maybe. Have you had lunch yet?” 

Ms. Kenway’d gone over to the kitchen table, covered in expired coupons.

Clearing the scraps of paper off into a plastic bin, she patted a chair. 

“Not yet, ma’am.” 

“Oh, please. Call me Rose. Well then, let’s get something for you. How would you like some fruit to tide you over? I got some lovely cranberries yesterday. Do you have any allergies, dear? Perhaps some shepherd’s pie? Or that’s more of a dinner food, isn’t it? I think I may need to run by the store later.” 

Cherry had smiled as she watched Ms. Kenway flit around the kitchen, absent-mindedly touched the knobs of each cabinet twice as she opened them looking for something she decided was good enough. 

Over that weekend, she’d learned a lot more about Ms. Kenway’s disorder. 

She was the one who figured out that Cherry had similar issues. She’d seen Cherry’s habits in cutting food into near-exact equal sized pieces and alternating which side she chewed each bite. The way she purposefully woke up an hour ahead of the club schedule to make sure that her blankets were folded to the exact size and shape of the pillow. The way she systematically measured the sheetrock in the community center to make sure it fit down to the millimeter. The panic that set in when the mid-day ritual of documenting the process was interrupted by one of the many colored pens Cherry used getting run over by a forklift. 

Cherry had visited a lot over time, especially when she was homesick. Ms. Kenway gave her tips on how to work with her disorder and avoid getting stuck in loops. She became like a grandmother, invited to every family event because she had no one left who was willing to step back into her life. They fixed up Ms. Kenway’s house at their own pace, often stopping to sit and talk about how to tackle a new problem. 

“Why don’t you go to a doctor, dear?” 

“I tried. They tried to make me sign these forms that would have allowed for experimental government treatments. I almost signed too.” 

“What a shame. When I was your age, it was so much easier to get any healthcare. Had walk-in clinics and everything!” 

It wasn’t the first or last time they’d had this conversation. Ms. Kenway had even offered to list Cherry as a familial caretaker in a way that assured they could both have good insurance, to move closer to the university, to pay for medication out of pocket. 

“You know, Rose, I would have loved to grow up with you.” 

“Ha!” Ms. Kenway waggled a finger like she always did when conversation turned this way, “I’m not giving up that blackberry pie recipe so easily!”

Cherry, Miss Plummer, and Keith spent the better part of the day removing large metal spikes and rubble. With the help of a rusted dolly cart, they were able to take the concrete out behind the building. 

A few traders moved in and out of the Cafe, looking for something to eat, and were surprised to see the Overboss covered in dust, arms deep in Abraxo solution, hair tied back with a dirty bandana. Cherry greeted each of them with a warm smile and warmer plate of the closest she could make to her mom’s carne asada. 

The doctor in specific was hesitant when she left the Cafe. Before going, she put a hand on Cherry’s, opened her mouth to say something, but left without a word. Something about it made Cherry want to cry. 

Instead, she scrubbed at the centuries old grime in nooks and crannies. 

For the most part, they worked in silence. 

“I don’t think the raiders will like this new layout, bo- Ch- ma’am.” 

Keith had been unsure of how to address Cherry and had settled on not making up his mind. Frankly, it was endearing 

“They’ve learned to deal with the mess, they’ll learn to deal with being able to see the floor.” 

Cherry plopped heavily onto the now clean tile. According to the pipboy it was nearly eight in the evening. All in all, it was a good day’s work. 

“Well, boss,” Miss Plummer said, pulling up a chair to a shaky table, “the total you brought today comes out to nearly four thousand caps. Not a bad haul at all.” 

“Alright. I want you to get the word out, anyone who checks in with you is going to get a hundred caps weekly in exchange for doing some resource runs. We need good wood and metal. An extra hundred to anyone who signs on to build or take scrap out of the way.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Keith, I need you to tell the other traders the same. You two are going to have one of the most important jobs in the new way of running things.” 
Cherry’s feet reminded her of how much she’d worked as she stood back up. 

The front door opened. 

“Well, I’ll be damned, boss.” Gage’s eyebrows rose. “Smells a hell of a lot different without all that blood everywhere.” 

“I aim to please,” she said with a dramatic bow, flourishing her hand like a magician.

“Ain’t sure about that, but I was able to track this down.” 

He held up a scrap of paper and nodded his head for Cherry to follow. 

After a quick goodbye to Miss Plummer and Keith, Cherry and Gage were heading up the lift and onto the chilly balcony. 

“So what is this about? Did you learn something about the man who-” 

“Not yet. That’s gonna take more than a week, boss. But this was a little easier to get ahold of. Now, keep in mind, I ain’t got much of a head for chems. I don’t touch the stuff. But accordin’ to the doc, this should help with anything like what happened at Kiddie Kingdom.” 

He passed the paper over to her. In neat handwriting was the word “Calmex” followed by a different, much more erratic handwriting. 

“What is this? A tranquilizer?” 

“Somethin’ like that."A hand went to the back of his neck, rubbing in small circles. "Supposed to help with… uh… traumatic stress. It ain’t to use often, though. Just when you’re havin’ an episode.” 

“Was it really that bad?” 

Gage shrugged. 

“Thank you. It means a lot.” 

“Like I said. I ain’t a charity. You’re here ‘cause you might be able to get shit done, but I’m here because I’ve got the ideas. Only way I can work is if you’re standing there in the front of it all and takin’ the credit.” 

“By the end of this, you won’t have to worry about your skin, Porter. I promise.” 

Chapter Text

The next morning, Gage woke to a gentle clink of metal on glass. With a groan, he pulled himself over the edge of his bed and went to investigate the noise in the kitchen. 

“Can I help you with anythin’ there, boss?” 

She turned to face him very suddenly, her hair flying out and around before smacking her in the face. Her Pipboy was on the counter serving as a low light that revealed the fresh stains on the boss’ shirt and the countless bowls littered all around the kitchen. 

Her wide eyes softened into crinkles as she grinned.

“I was just getting some rations ready for Dry Rock. It smelled like a storm coming in so I wanted to make something quick.” 

The smile she gave looked like it could burn up the sun. 

“Granola! And over here I’ve got some bread starters going. I can’t guarantee that it’ll be the best, but it’ll be something. I’m thinking of getting a sustainable garden going out on the deck - I’m calling that monstrosity out there the deck now - and hopefully I can get some fruit and vegetables going. Have you ever had tacos? I have to imagine that there’s something like them around. Dad always said that they were the pinnacle of a developing society. Just something wrapped up in a bread. But if not, this is going to blow your mind. I mean I don’t have a lot of spices right now, but I can grow those over time. And hopefully-” 

Gage pinched his nose as he inspected her work. 

“A lot of this don’t look ‘quick’ to me, boss.” 

“Admittedly, I got distracted,” she said, her beaming lowering with the metal spoon in her hand. “I chucked a lot of furniture out of the building.” 

Gage shook his head. 

“And then I thought some of it would be useful, so I lugged those things back up. And now there’s a mess on the deck. And then I got hungry, but all there is around here is two-hundred year old funnel cake? What’s that about? So I started getting that together because carbs sounded really good, but then I needed oil. And I went to the market to find something. And that’s where I got the idea to make granola. But I went shopping hungry which is a big no no, so I -” 

“I’m gonna stop you right there, boss.” Gage held up a hand both demanding and begging for her to pause. 

“Yeah?” 

“No, I’m just gonna stop you. The sun’s barely out.” 

“How do you know that?” 

“‘Cause of the damn hole in the roof. Now I dunno about you, but raiders don’t exactly run from sunup to sundown. You ain’t gotta be in a rush about getting shit done in a day.” 

The boss actually did stop for all of a second. She wiped stray hair out of her face, streaking flour over her forehead. 

“But for now we aren’t raiders. We’re leaders. Whether you like it or not.” 
It was almost too quiet to hear. She had a point. Right now, they didn’t have the luxury of letting the sun do some of its work. They should be out on their way to Dry Rock already. 

“I talked to some of the traders,” she said, louder. “There were some others who set out there before the raid- before you all came. When people were starting to get collared.” 

“Well now, that’s interesting considering we ain’t had any trouble with ‘em.” 
Gage leaned against the wall. The boss continued with her cooking, not looking at him. 

“That’s what I figured. If there were people out there to take, you would have done it by now. Or at least someone would have. Which concerns me. If no one from here tried to take them. And they didn’t come trying to rescue anyone…” 
Her body seemed to get more rigid in the dim light. 

“Then there’s something else out in that park,” Gage finished grimly. 

She nodded stiffly. 

“Well. Shit.”

Getting the boss to stay out of her own head was a unique challenge. Either she would run on and on about what she wanted to do about infrastructure or she would stay loudly silent as they walked. Some kind of shuffling corpse. It didn’t help when they came on actual corpses. Some of them still with skin on them. Some of them without, clutching smaller sets of bones. 

Those ones would break through any conversation she was failing to have with him. 

“So, uh, boss,” Gage started, trying to make the hour long walk a little more bearable. Normally the silence would be welcome, but the moping wasn’t. He preferred the chattering over this cloud hanging over them. “You seemed to know a bit about Kiddie Kingdom. Know anything about Dry Rock?” 

“Oh, yeah.” She was still soft about it, but at least she was talking. “It’s all western themed. I had a friend from Texas who took me around in high school and laughed about a lot of the stuff. He loved it. Especially the outfits. He said it was the just right amount of gay without them including fringe.” 

Gage breathed a sigh of relief as she continued on about architecture and overpriced tumbled rocks, whatever that meant. He didn’t trust her moments of quiet much. He’d found his hand itching towards the Calmex he’d packed into the side pocket of his bag. 

Did he think that the walk was going to trigger an attack? 

No. 

Did the doctor say it was likely that anything could set her off without details? 

Yeah.  

Did he trust the doctor to keep her mouth shut about how many questions he asked to make sure he didn’t accidentally kill the boss? 

Jury’s still out. 

Thunder rumbled off in the distance, interrupting the new line of thinking the boss had going on about “five alarm chili” and a debate about beans. 

“I love walking in the rain,” she said, serenely. 

“Not when it comes with radstorms.” 

“I’m sorry, with what?” 

She stopped walking entirely. 

“Radiation coming in from somewhere south of us. Storms kick it up. Carry it everywhere.” Gage stopped long enough to jerk his head towards Dry Rock that had grown closer and closer. “Gotta get a roof over our heads and windows covered up some.” 

“Great. Cool. This is fine. Totally prepared for that.” 

Gage allowed a chuckle as the boss kicked a rock and hurried past him.

“What the actual shit eating fuck are those shits?” 

“Bloodworms. ‘Cording to the sign out there.” 

The storm had gotten closer, pushing them into a less than ideal shelter from the storm kicking up. The boss had to pick open a locked door while Gage shot down the worms digging up through the ground. They were now sprawled out by a stone’s throw from a robot that would not shut up. 

“No, seriously. Gage. What the shit?” 

“Your guess is as good as mine! I dunno what’s been going on out here. Colter kept me runnin’ around Nuka-Town too much to get out here.” 

She rolled onto her stomach suddenly. 

“Do you hear that?” 

Gage didn’t bother to open his eye as he said with a furrowed brow, “That fucking ‘bot I’m gonna shoot in a minute?” 

“No. It sounds like crying.” 

“Tough shit.” 

God, a nap sounded great right now. 

“Gage. Crying means people. People means survivors.” 

That got him sitting up. He shouldn’t have missed that. 

He couldn’t hear anything over the rain hitting the roof. 

“You sure, b-” 

“Completely.” 

The stare she fixed him with could have run a man’s blood cold. 

“Alright. What do you want to do?”

They took potshots at the ant swarm from the window in the door that the boss had broken with a wrench she’d found. They took turns to reload while the other lined up a shot. It wasn’t a bad system. The rain was clearing up by the time the boss was satisfied with their efforts. 

“We cleared them out!” She yelled out, opening the door slowly. “You can come out. We won’t hurt you!” 

There was no movement. 

“I promise. We’re putting our guns down.” 

Gage felt his face pull into a frown, but obeyed her indirect order. 

“We have a grenade!” The voice was almost tiny. 

“And we’ll use it!” A second small voice. 

Goddamn it all. 

Two kids in buckskin clothes stepped out of the center building. 

Chapter Text

They were kids. Children. 

Fucking hell one of them was just taller than the gun she was holding. Or maybe she actually was shorter considering the oversized baseball helmet she was wearing pushed up at a weird angle to reveal almond eyes and ruddy cheeks over amber skin.  

The other was standing like there was something stuck in their leg. Their bright demeanor covering what would have been otherwise seen as stoicism from someone so large. They had included fever blossoms into their hair band that kept the long brown surprisingly well maintained hair out of their face. 

Both of them looked like hell. 

“I’m Cherry. What are your names?” 

“Fuck off!” 

Behind her, Gage laughed. 

Cherry chose to ignore it. 

“Look, you can trust me. We put our guns down. We just want to know what happened. Do you have any family here?” 
The smaller one shook her head firmly and stepped in front of the other.

“Everyone was dead when we got here.” 

“We’re going to be raiders!” The other kid winced as they excitedly leaned too far to the right. 

“Did one of the ants get you? I can help.” 

“You a doctor?” the gun-toting one asked suspiciously. 

“Something like that. My mom and dad taught me a lot.” 

“Listen, kid,” Gage piped up, “we got questions. You got answers. We got meds. You gotta get healed up. Wanna work something out?” 

Cherry turned to him, raising an eyebrow. 

“Raiders to raiders,” he added. 

Cherry tried not to smile as she approached the kids. 

“Do you want to try another introduction? That’s Gage. He’s alright. I’m the boss of those raiders nearby. Overboss Cherry.” 

“Bullshit. Bosses don’t do dirty work like scavers.” 

The tall one flapped their hands against the smaller one’s shoulder, earning an eyeroll. 

“This is Pins. I’m Needles. And like shit you’re the boss.” 

“Oh I’m the boss alright. And you’re definitely losing any chances of getting a setup nearby with that mouth.” 

Cherry sat on the ground next to Pins. 

“It hurts under my knee.” 

That much was obvious. The swelling was turning into a bright green pustule about the size of a quarter. 

“If you hurt them, I’ll shoot you dead.” 

“I promise I won’t. Needles, do you want to help them?” 

“No shi- I mean,” she looked from Cherry to Gage and back. “Yes.” 

“Okay. I need you to collect water. About a half a bowlful. Gage, help me carry them into the building.” 

Gage didn’t argue. He didn’t look happy about it, though. 

“Is this enough?” 

Needles held up her helmet with water collected in the bottom. 

“That’s perfect. Have you two eaten today?” 

“Is that a joke?” 

Pins frowned. “You have to be nice right now. Sisters are nice to people who help. I decided.” 

Needles grumbled something, but nodded. 

“No, ma’am. We haven’t eaten today.” 

“Okay. I have some granola in my bag. I need you to pour some into the helmet and then you can both eat as much of it as you want.” Cherry smiled as Needles dutifully followed orders. “Where are you from?” she asked Pins. 

At the very least they seemed more willing to answer questions. 

“The shop. Gunners came through and tore everything up until dad gave them money.” 

“We left. We’re gonna be raiders and get strong to kill those sons-of-bitches.” 

“Yeah! And until we get stronger, we’re gonna make clothes. Cause we can do that really good thanks to mama!” 

“What are you doing with that?” Needles was pretending to be disinterested as she took a seat beside Cherry, taking turns with Gage at grabbing handfuls of granola. Not that either of them seemed to notice. 

“It’s called an oatmeal bath. It helps with the itching. It looks like Pins here is allergic to ant venom. I don’t know how long the bite will last at this size. Normally it’s a few days, but these are a lot bigger than I’m used to dealing with.” 

“How big are they normally?” Pins asked, eyes wide. 

“Smaller than this.” She pulled out a bobby pin and pointed at the rubber-tipped end. 

“Bull-shit!” Needles and Gage said in unison. 

Cherry laughed. 

“It’s true. Whe-” she paused, “where I’m from, ants are a lot smaller. They still hurt a lot when you get stung, though. You’re very strong if you can handle one that big at your size.” 

“It’s because I’m too much raider!” 

Pins seemed delighted, and Needles eased up on the prickly demeanor. 

“Okay, now that it’s all covered up, Gage and I are going to go finish clearing out the worms in the park.” 

“In the radstorm?” Needles asked, blinking rapidly.

Cherry shrugged, “If that’s what it takes.”

“We got some of those worms from up there.” Needles pointed to the concrete bleachers. “But then the ants came for us.” 

“Do you think you two could wait here until we’re done?” 

“You won’t be done until you take care of the mine,” Pins said from the ground.

“A’int no mines ‘round here, kid.” 

“Is too! We went down there once. We’re small enough to get into the hole! There’s a big mama one down there!” 

“What, couldn’t kill that one?” Gage sneered. 

“Fuck off,” Needles shot back. 

Gage sniggered. 

“I wanted to try but then they were popping up out of brahmin corpses.” 

“We had to run, Mr. Gage,” Pins said pleading for him to not think any less of them. 

Cherry didn’t try to hide a grin this time. 

“Yeah, Mr. Gage!” 

“Aw, fuck off.” Gage stood up, dusting his pants. “Alright. Little shits. Where’s that hole?” 

“It’s too small for you. It was almost too small for Pins. And you need a key to get in otherwise.” 

“Alright, where’s the key?” 

“We have to ask the sheriff!” 

Oh this is going to be fantastic.

“You don’t have to talk to it like that, boss.” 

Gage had been in a mood since Cherry had started faking the accent. Needles started it. And it had gotten such a rise out of Gage that Cherry couldn’t help it. It made the kids laugh. So when the bots asked questions, she just kind of… played along. 

The kids were quick to help after the adults had done a thorough sweep of the park grounds. Once that was done, they talked to Sheriff Hawk and got some answers about how to get into the mine. And despite the hacking skills Cherry had picked up in her youth, overriding the bots was just a bit too advanced. 

“The people of Dry Rock Gulch are about to meet the friendliest bartender in town!” Cherry winked at the kids. “You have my word.” 

“Boss, I’m gonna remind you that we got work to get done here.” 

“What’s wrong, Gage? Did I mess up the drawl somewhere? Accidentally slip in a 'g'?” 

“I could shoot you right now and be done with it all.” 

“You wouldn’t!” Pins looked to Gage with eyes like the moon. 

“Start a new life. New gang,” he added wistfully. 

“Coward! Can’t handle some fucking jokes?” 

“Somewhere away from children.” 

“Now, Gage.” Cherry laid the accent on as thick as possible as she sidled up to him, putting a hand on the cage he called armor, “Consider it from my position. We got us here some textile manufacturers that are just what the gang needs in these coming months. Winter can get mighty cold. Look at this!

Braided buckskin head bands. You know how hard that is?” 

“Bout as hard as this fist gonna hit your stomach.” 

“You’re right, it’s not very hard.” Cherry laughed at his scowl. “But look at Pins’ shirt. The whole thing is braided and reinforced. These kids have brains and want to join up. And they’ve got some real skills that can keep us nice and warmed up... once it’s time to hit the Commonwealth.” 

Gage dropped his attitude and Cherry the accent. 

He stared in awe for a second. 

“You want to hit them in the winter.” 

For the first time in a week, the fear took a step to the side to allow the rage to take the wheel. 

“I’m not going to go months without any leads, Porter. I’m not going to wait for whoever took Shaun to do whatever kind of thing requires stealing a baby. When those feelers of yours come back with a solid lead, these parks are going to be taken care of. We’re going to have them ready to start drilling and systematically taking territory throughout the ‘Wealth. I’m going to kill the man who took my baby. I’m going to kill whoever stops me from getting him back. And if they killed him in some sick experiment? I’m going to have the most loyal second in command at my side when I come back from my little field trip. And he’s going to be ready with my army.” 

Gage’s mouth was open for a moment before he finally said, “Bold of you to assume I don’t wanna tag along to see my Overboss on a warpath.” 

His Overboss.  

Her. 

Something like a sense of purpose stirred in her. 

Cherry pulled off the cowboy hat that Pins had found and placed it on Gage’s head. “You wanna be my deputy, Porter? Wanna walk beside me as I go on my killing spree?” 

She could see the moment of hesitation as Gage moved to take the hat off, and then he simply made an adjustment to the placement. He looked like he was weighing something in his soul before he finally responded. 

“Don’t see any other way to do it, boss.”

“Okay, Cherry Boss!” Pins said, bouncing up and down in excitement. We put the sodas on the right spots. The little lights went on and said ding.” 

“Okay, so I’ve got-” 

“You gotta do the voice. I decided.” 

“Well, partner, I got the showdown out of the way with One Eyed Ike. The little lady over there found us that Giddyup Buttercup to take to The Giddyup Kid. So let’s get back to Doc Phosphate for that last code and then we can get into that safe.” 

Cherry looked up in time to see Gage’s eye rolling in its socket. 
When they finally got the key, the kids looked to each other in a wild eyed excitement. They did it. Now Gage and Cherry just needed to clear out the mine, and it would be done.  

“We’ll take it in the morning. We need some sleep before we take on anything big enough for you to call those bloodworms the babies.” 

They set up camp in that same center building. It seemed the most sheltered and least strewn with skeletons. It wasn’t long after they had a dinner of cricket meat and fried tomatoes that the kids had properly fallen asleep in a heap. 

“I really do like them,” Cherry said to Gage as he prepared for a few hours on watch for any worms they might have missed. 

“Yeah, you would.” He stretched out his legs and muttered, “Little shits.” 

“I think you like them too.” 

Gage turned with a sudden furious glare that made Cherry laugh. 

“You don’t need to be so defensive! They’re sweet. I think you and Needles are pretty similar.” 

“Ain’t nothing like that brat.” 

“Oh yeah? You both swear like sailors. You’re angry. Both raiders-” 

“They ain’t raiders, boss. They’re kids. It ain’t right. Makin’ them think they’ll have a place at Nuka-Town.” 

“They will. If I have to make sure of it myself.” 

“They’re gonna get killed.” 

“They’ll be under my protection.” 

“And what happens when you’re gone, huh?” Gage leveled Cherry with a look too intense for a low conversation. 

“Outside. Now.” 

Cherry didn’t wait to see if he followed. She just climbed the bleachers until she was up at the sniper’s point, leaning against concrete. 

Gage was right. They were just a couple of kids romanticizing raider life. She’d done the same thing with pirates and highwaymen. That appeal to just let yourself go wild in a world you can’t control because you’re just… so small. 

Gage sat down heavily on the ledge of the building. 

“I can’t just leave them here. And I can’t just let them wander around to find some shittier gang that I know they’ll die in.” 

“I know, boss.” 

“They can stay with Miss Plummer while I’m away. At least until I have more respect with the gangs.” 

“The gangs’ll see it as a weakness.” 

“The kids can prove themselves. I was serious about it. I’ve seen homemade clothes. Their work looks almost as clean as some of the pre-war stuff. Whoever taught them what they know was really good. Their darning was tight and almost impossible to see if you didn’t know to look.” Cherry paused to look at Gage who was staring ahead. “And I think that they can be great too.” 

“That’s all well and good, boss, but I ain’t the one you gotta convince.” 
Cherry sat beside him on the ledge, letting her legs kick lightly as she thought. 

“That’s not true. If I can’t convince you, then there’s no chance in hell that I can convince them.” 

“What? Think I’m more stupid?” 

“No. It’s like… like if you can take down the alpha of a pack, then the others aren’t so hard to beat - at least in your mind. If I can convince you, then I know my logic is sound. I know for sure I can convince them.” 

When Gage didn’t say anything, Cherry let herself look at him. The moonlight highlighted his bare arms, the scars shining dully against dirt covered skin. His jaw was set as he stared down the mounds of dirt and twisted metal. 

“Porter? Is everything okay?” 

“All things considered,” he finally said, “yeah. Just… been thinkin’ is all. That whole thing with Colter, I know we talked about it some, but…” 

He held up a hand when Cherry tried to interrupt. 

“It could be a sore spot between us. I mean, here I went and turned on the Overboss. Who’s to say I wouldn’t do it again?” 

“What’s the matter, Gage?” Cherry sing-songed, trying to lighten the mood with a dramatic squint. “Feeling guilty all of a sudden?” 

“No. That’s the thing. Ain’t no guilt over that call.” Porter quickly glanced at Cherry who in turn couldn’t turn away. “Look. He was a piece of shit. But that… really was all on me. I’m the one who talked him into being Overboss in the first place.” 

“Gonna be honest, if you’re gonna tell me you shoved a hand up his ass and turned him into a human puppet, I don’t wanna hear it.” 

“Damn, woman.” He cracked a smile. “Hell of an imagination you’ve got there.” 

“You aren’t his choices, Porter. You made a mistake. We all do.” 

“I got a point here, y’know. He was what we needed at the time. Big. Strong. Took no shit.” His voice faded for a moment, maybe remembering better times. Porter cleared his throat. “But he was stubborn. Shit went to his head. One of the worst times I’ve seen it, honestly.” 

Cherry laughed hollowly. “Yeah, put a big, dumb idiot in charge? What could possibly go wrong?” 

He turned then, looking her full in the face. His brows were knit, the stubble on his jaw darkened by the shadow of the hat he was still wearing because when he had tried to take it off earlier, Needles would pass it to Pins to put back on like a perverse game of pin the tail on the donkey with the high stakes of getting smacked in the head if they weren’t quick enough in their ducking. 

“Look, I gave him too much credit. I can admit that. I learned that being the guy in charge also means you’re the guy with the biggest target on your back. Whether it’s another gang looking to take whatever you’ve scraped together... or some punk thinking he knows better than the boss.” He looked almost desperate. “There’s always, always someone gunning for you.” 

“I get that.” 

Not much different than a law office.

“I don’t want that target on me.” He gingerly adjusted his eyepatch, his fingers lingering on the scraped up metal. “But if I can be the guy just behind the guy in charge, well, that suits me just fine. If I got his ear, I can steer things in a way that benefits me… and usually everyone else.” 

Cherry leaned forward, elbows on her knees, eyes finally pulled away from Porter’s face. It was a practical way of thinking. Hell, she’d done the same thing at her first few firms. It’s hard for heat to fall on you when you’re not the face. When you can get things going - make people see reason - without taking flak, it was great. You kept your name out of people’s mouths and still reaped the rewards. 

What came out instead of the comfort she intended was the second stream of thoughts that had been going on in the downtime. 

“You wanna get behind me and whisper in my ear? Porter, I didn’t know you had it in you.” 

As soon as the words left her mouth, Cherry tried to play it off as a joke. But some part of her that was touch starved, that hadn’t had anything or anyone in months meant it. 

She looked up at the moon, the stars, anywhere but his face. 

“Come on, boss,” he griped, hopefully not catching her earnestness. “I’m being serious here for once.” He softened, “Like I said. I got a point. You ain’t like Colter. That’s what I’m gettin’ at. You ain’t like other Raiders I’ve run with. But I can see that you are one.” 

Cherry’s eyes snapped to him, wide and unabashed. 

How? 

“You got what it takes. Takin’ the Commonwealth was part of the long game.

But you knew that’s what it would take from the get go. The Overboss takes what she wants. And so far, you make a pretty damn good Overboss. Some of the shit you’ve come up with… I wouldn’t have thought it up. None of us would have.” 

He wasn’t looking at her anymore. His eye wandered across his gun, his hands, anything but her. 

“And it’s been fun. Running with you. Even if you can’t keep your mouth shut for ten seconds and want to adopt a couple of assholes.” 

Cherry smiled and leaned a shoulder against him. 

“Despite everything, it’s been nice running with you too.” 

He grinned and arched an eyebrow. “Now I didn’t say nice.” 

Cherry snorted and stood up, stretching out her arms as far as they would go. 

“I’m gonna get a moment of sleep. Wake me up in a few hours for trade off?” 

“Yeah, boss.” 

Chapter Text

“I’ve always wanted to try this.” 

Cherry tested the wooden fence under her hands and decided that it was supported with steel enough to try vaulting over. However, she hadn’t factored in her right foot and promptly did a faceplant on the planks below. 

“Seriously. Level with me, Gage,” Needles said from the other side what was once a line barricade, “is this really the boss? You can be honest.” 

“Yeah. That’s her alright.” 

Gage walked past Cherry as she stood up and dusted herself off. Pins had decided to wait at a safer distance than Needles, sitting on top of a decorative barrel. Cherry had to convince them that it was better for them to wait outside than follow the two more experienced raiders into the roller coaster ride.

Although Cherry was less and less sure that she was more experienced than the kids. At least if their stories were to be believed. And to their credit, they had survived this long out in the wasteland somehow. 

“We’ll try to be out of here in two hours. There’s still plenty of light out, so you should be good on the safety level if you stay in the bots’ lines of sight.” 

“Yeah, yeah, Cherry Boss. We know how to protect ourselves.” 

“I know. Just make sure. And you should have enough food to last you until tomorrow. But don’t eat so much you get sick.” 

“Don’t worry!” Pins called from where they were sitting with the rations. 

“Y’know, you’d be better off letting them collect scrap, boss.” 

“Do I look like a scavver to you?” Needles asked with a clear voice, ready to fight anything but a “no.” 

“I did see a lot of mannequins that still had decent cloth. Those could be useful for some warming layers." Cherry said thoughtfully. "Even just for picking apart to learn some old tricks.” 

Needles seemed to like this idea, based on the sharp breath she took before wildly gesturing to Pins, who was already standing up and putting the pack of food on their back. 

“Be safe. Meet us back at the saloon in two hours. If anything happens, run to higher ground.” 

“And aim for the legs before the head, kid.” 

Cherry shot him a look. 

“It’s a smarter shot, boss,” he said with a shrug. 

“I’ll consider it, you old turd.” 

“Manners! Sisters have manners!” 

“You old fart,” Needles corrected. 

Cherry moved to the door and placed the key onto the lock. She hadn’t been surprised to find that it was mag-locked instead of an old fashioned key. She vaguely remembered that some cowboy character would lead groups into the mine after they had collected their codes. She and Jean hadn’t been very focused on that part of the Nuka-World experience. 

When they entered the building it made much more sense why. The walkway that led to the coaster did seem just as long as she remembered. Narrow and winding with more skeletons than memory served. But not long in, the smell of more freshly decomposing bodies hit. 

“Oh, God.” 

“Well. There’s the traders. He got anything on ‘im?” 

“Gage!” 

“Finders keepers, boss. Ain’t doing him any good.” 

Cherry made the mistake of inhaling and pushed down bile. 

“Got a note on him. Looks like some raiders did come through here at some point. Talking about this being their last stand or some shit.” 

“Well fuck. Come on. We have to keep going.” 

Next came a brahmin corpse. And true to what the kids had said, Cherry could see the skin moving. No. Something under the skin moving. Wriggling. 

“Gage. Get the rifle ready.” 

The gun cocked as he readied his shot. 

Three worms ripped through flesh, writhing as the bullet tore through dried out muscle. Luckily the duo had height and timing on their side. And worms couldn’t climb safety stairs. 

It wasn’t much farther to the main event. A large waiting room that led to the coaster itself. The light was shit. There was only one elevated spot in the room, a small shack built in a less than strategic point by the entryway. 

“Alright. Help me up.” Cherry pointed to the steel roof covered in plywood.

“Pardon?” 

“You’re going to lob the grenades, I’m going to shoot them from up top.” 

“Sure you can handle that, boss?” 

Cherry faltered. From what Gage had been willing to talk about, the explosion had a high chance of setting her off and leaving him in the fight by himself. 

“I’m going to do what I can. Just… do it when I give the order.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

They set up their positions, Cherry on her stomach with her rifle barrel on a backpack, Gage standing in a throwing stance. 

Cherry took a deep breath. 

“Okay. Pull.”

When the dust settled, Cherry was still there. She had screwed up her face with each brace for the explosions. And just as soon as it was over, she would open her eyes, take her shot. They’d wait until the writhing stopped, and then another grenade would go flying. 

Once they had done a complete check of the main room, they gave themselves a moment to really stop. Sure there were probably more in the tunnel on the way out, but there were no other exits that Cherry could see past the hole the kids had mentioned. And all of the worms seemed to have been larvae from the looks of it, incubating in the brahmin traders had brought down with them. 

“You know,” Gage said, sitting on the ground of the gift shop, “this sure beats diggin’ crops all day just to take a bullet.” 

“Oh yeah.” Cherry joined him on the ground, taking deep breaths. “Just digging our graves instead.” 

Gage barked out a short laugh. 

“Is this really what it’s like everywhere, Gage?” 

“Nah. This is a special kinda hell. Never seen these shits anywhere else. Course, I ain’t been everywhere.” 

“I just don’t get it. No, that’s not right. I get it, but I can’t wrap my head around it.” 

Gage shrugged. 

“You’ve never known anything but this world. Them too. All of them. Except for some ghouls that might have pulled through the severe mental trauma. No one remembers what it was like. I mean it wasn’t the greatest. There was… a lot. But everyone was so good at pretending. Pretending that everything was okay because their lawns were green. Or because they had a robot to clean up after them.” 

“Sounds like a different kinda hell.” 

“A special kind.” 

“Think I'd prefer this hell. Least I can get something out of it.” 

“Fair enough.” 

Gage groaned and pulled himself up to his feet. He held a hand out, and Cherry gladly took it. 

His hands, calloused and rough, reminded Cherry that hers used to feel like that. The only reason she stopped doing physical rebuilding was because she was handling legal rebuilding. But her hands had been just as harsh to touch. She had been rough and tumble. She had literally roughed it for nearly two-sevenths of her life. Sure she had missed out on that in her recent years, but she knew these skills. They were ingrained in her at a fundamental level. 

Were there people here, now, who didn’t know how to do that? How to just attain that first level of needs. Did they all know how to grow food? 

She thought to the desperate faces she’d seen at the party the other night. How they saw that the food had no price tag and ended up puking into the sides of trees. How they reacted to the food being cooked at all. What else didn’t they know? 

Did the doctors have rudimentary antibiotics? Could they safely and effectively perform surgeries? Could they deliver children without losing the parent and child? Had she even seen any children aside from Pins and Needles? 

“You alright there, boss?” 

Cherry quickly let go of Gage’s hand and took a step toward the door. 

“The kids are waiting on us. And I think I have some new ideas to start working on when we get back to town.”

Chapter Text

Gage liked to think of himself as a master manipulator, years and years of keeping himself just behind the leader, making sure that he was the one in control at all times. He’d been under the impression that he had the boss under control until she started up with her new ideas. And now she had even more. Apparently.

“You go get the kids,” she said as they exited the mines, “I’ll go raise the flag. Do you want to want to wait out the rest of the day or head back?”

She twisted a loose lock of hair back into her bun and looked at him expectantly.

Gage looked up to the now clear sky. There shouldn’t be too much mud if they took Central Island. 

“We head out once we give everything the all clear. Might still be some stragglers.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“I’ll do a round and then meet you back at the saloon, boss.”

“What about the kids?”

“You want me to take them out on the off chance we missed one? The big one is gonna slow us down as is.”

The boss frowned and leaned her weight onto one hip. With a short sigh, she said, “Fair enough. I’ll meet you there. Be careful, Porter.”

She didn’t say it like she had the first time she’d given him an order with his first name. Hell, he’d been surprised when she’d done it at all. That first time, it was like someone telling a dog to heel, and it had taken every ounce of control not to end it all by putting a bullet in her. No one had talked to him like that since he was a boy, and she’d only gotten away with it because it was his ma. 

You aren’t his choices, Porter.

And that had been an entire one-eighty. She’d talked to him last night like he was the fragile one. Like he was the one who was one wrong move from turning a lifeline into a noose. Not even at his most vulnerable or intimate had anyone ever called him Porter, and here she was busting it out every other conversation.

How much had they really talked, though? She’d gotten two parks under control in two weeks and that was already a big fucking deal - nothing to be said for the rest of the shit she was wanting to get done on top of finding her kid. 

Gage didn’t hold out much hope for that, if he was being fully honest with himself. Finding the kids here was a minor miracle. Coming across kids was more likely in settlements, the big ones that were safe and close to water. And obviously, he hadn’t planned on taking them in. 

The boss did have a point about the clothes though. Having some things come through the market was one thing, but to have someone to specialize in repairs was a big win for any settlement. But that was part of the problem, the boss seemed to be wanting to turn Nuka World into something it wouldn’t ever be. Not if raiders had a say.

Colter had made sure of that when he let them all get sedentary. Even the scouts that had been sent out before the first winter had been less and less inclined to go out as time went on, until the end of the winter came. Then it was small parties going out to hit people passing through the outskirts out of boredom.

You aren’t his choices, Porter.

Wasn’t he though? Every step, Gage had manipulated the plans. If he’d picked someone more capable, would things have turned out differently? The new boss seemed more than capable, but Colter had too. Gage had been honest about that part at least. He’d made a mistake, but only because he hadn’t seen the long term effects.

It had been a gamble to say that he would back whoever killed Colter. One that he was alternating kicking himself in the ass over and being in awe. The boss could hold her own when she was lucid. And the explosions in the mine hadn’t seemed to affected her the way the one in Kiddie Kingdom had.

Maybe she just needed the warning. He could work with that in general, but there was no say what any given enemy would bring to a fight. And there was her habit of seeming to bite off more than she could chew with every promise she made. Sure, she’d made good so far when it came to her timing of clearing the parks. Mason was happy; Nisha would be too. Mags and William were patient enough. Really, it wasn’t a bad entrance into the spotlight. He had already told Shank that she was wanting to go into the Commonwealth after the parks were cleared. He’d been over the moon, and Gage hadn’t even needed to tug on the strings to make it happen.

So long as she stayed right there, then he could keep up with making things happen. 

You wanna get behind me and whisper in my ear?

It had been one of the many jokes she deflected with during their conversation. Another way to crawl under his skin and make a home in his bones. She sure as hell was trying to play the game right on back. Gage was pretty proud of how he didn’t give in to that kind of manipulation, but there was an earnestness in her voice that had warmed his core.

He knew better though. He wasn’t a chump, and only chumps fell for shit like that.

“Gage!” the boss yelled, lining up a shot. “Behind you!”

He swiveled and took the shot without even bothering to blink. 

A bloodworm fell out of the air, mangled flesh pocked with holes and gunshot.

It still writhed, so he aimed for what he hoped was the head.

“You know, boss,” he said as she came running towards him, “I really hate bugs. These things count as bugs?”

“Worms?” She was panting. He hadn’t seen how far she had run, but she had definitely booked it to get to him. “Yeah I think so? I don’t know, I studied law, not entomology.”

“You see any others?”

“No.” Pant. “I walked the west side completely-” Pant. “-so I think we’re good now.”

“You need water or something, boss?”

She waved a hand and shook her head, while raising her arms until they were almost making an arrow pointing to the sky.

“What the hell are you doing now?”

“It helps the lungs expand.” Pant. “Goddamn I’m out of shape.”

Gage snickered.

“Well excuse the fuck me,” she retorted, moving in the direction of the saloon.

“Boss, that’s the last thing you need right now. Too much shit to get done.”

The color in her face drained and then deepened so quickly he thought she’d fall over from all the blood rushing to her face.

Instead of saying anything else, he kept walking and hid the smirk that wanted to crawl over his face.

Two can play at that game, boss.

The kids had divvied up all the clothes that they’d found into piles of still usable material and scrap. They had split them even further into bundles that looked easy to carry.

“Why are you keeping those, if you think they’re shit?”

“The cloth can still be rags,” the smallest one, Needles answered, not even bothering to look up. “The leather is good enough for small repairs or patch jobs. There’s no such thing as wasted clothes.”

“Hey, Cherry Boss,” Pins said from their stool, “do you really mean it about us being tailors for the raiders?”

The boss smiled, genuine and bright. “I know it’s not as glamorous as going out on raids, but what you bring to the table would be invaluable. What you make would not only go to protect the gangs, but it would also mean that every piece of clothes or armor you put out would be something that made sure more Gunners go down.”

Pins nodded, their eyes wide. Awestruck.

Even Needles was looking at the boss now, the scowl that lined her face softening into a determined furrow of brows instead.

The boss hadn’t been entirely wrong about him being like the kid. She had no idea how similar a story it was. Granted, the kids hadn’t said anything, but he could tell that there was no place for these brats to go if the boss didn’t take them in. 

Gage hadn’t made his choice out of desperation. It had been the first in many cold and calculated plans. There hadn’t been a single regret when he left at sunrise and marched into the raider camp.

But he hadn’t been naive.

These kids? They were still kids. They just didn’t have anywhere else to go.

When the group got back to Nuka-Town, the celebration was already in full swing. Those who weren’t fully blasted made a few cursory looks over the kids. He even heard a not so distant “fresh meat” comment from what he was sure was a Disciple.

To Needles’ credit, she didn’t even blink. She kept her head high, looked straight ahead and followed the boss through the door of downstairs Fizztop.

“We can work on gutting this out tomorrow, but I think this can be a good space for you both. It’s just roomy enough for sleep space and working.” She smiled softly at Pins who hadn’t been so brave on the walk in. “And I already have a plan for making sure no one can get in when you don’t want them to.”

“How’s that, boss? Ain’t got a key.”

“We can put together a crossbar. The doors open inward, and the handles have enough space that for now we can use a piece of metal. Gage and I can bring down a couple of mattresses, though I think that you might want to put some leather down on top of it.”

“We have bedrolls, Cherry Boss,” said Pins, much more relaxed at the thought of safety.

However safe you could be in this place.

“I have a speech to give, real quick, but after that, I’ll come back and help with cleanup, okay?”

Gage and the boss went upstairs after he slid a piece of rebar in the space between the vertical handles and the door. He even tugged on it a few times to prove that it wouldn’t be opened unless the kids pulled the metal out.

“You know, boss,” he said in the elevator, “you really should run things by me before you go on making more plans or announcements of ‘em.”

“Sorry about that.”

He watched her untie her hair and let it loose in waves. Almost as quickly, she refastened it and went to shuck off her armor.

“What do you have to get all dolled up for?”

“First of all, when I have the opportunity to get into clean clothes, I’m going to. Second of all, appearance is a weapon that I’ve been using since I was six. Do you know how easy it is to get away with shit if you look nice?”

“That ain’t exactly how it works with raiders, boss.”

“It works for the Operators, and they’re the next ones to impress. And I’m not wiping off this blood that I desperately want off my skin because I know that it’ll get me more points with the Disciples. The Pack don’t have any complaints so far, so they can be on the back burner for a second.”

Before the boss could walk out the double doors to the deck, he slammed a hand over it, barring exit. She spun to face him, a frown pulling at her mouth.

“I’m serious, boss. I’m the one who does all the damage control on the back end. If I don’t know what you want, I can’t help. There’s a lot going on in your head, but you’re going in blind. Most of these assholes are the same ones here a year ago. I may not know each one of them, but I know the ones who are worth a damn.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Gage sighed and lifted his weight off of the door.

“You need me out there with you, boss?”

“No. I’m just making a quick ‘Yay we did it, let’s get drunk!’ speech and then coming back in. No meeting with the bosses today. No extra plans. I’m coming in, washing up, and then going down to help the kids with cleanup.”

Gage nodded and let her leave.

He bit at his lip for a moment as the door closed, then turned on his heel. Marching to the terminal in the middle of the room, he unrolled more of the cord from where it wrapped around a hook above him. After a minute, the terminal was sitting in his alcove.

He stared down the words with a crease deepening the dig of his brow.

He’d spent the better part of a year on this documentation. All his notes on Colter, on how the gangs interacted, on how the other bosses made power plays on the side.

He sucked in a breath and started to delete the Colter notes, one by one to make sure that nothing important went with it. Anything about his personal habits disappeared like they had never been important. Like Gage had never had to measure his moods to know how best to get shit done around here.

Once the last irrelevant note was gone, he opened a fresh document.

Cherry Mendoza
Son missing. Husband dead.
No known relatives. Not lying about being Pre-War, has in depth information of some park layout, but no knowledge of basic information.
Capable in survival skills, lacking in general martial skill. Melee has potential.

He paused a moment when the boss walked back in, sighing against the doorframe of the hallway. She gave him a weary smile.

“You want something for dinner?”

“You really want to cook every meal?”

“Not every, but fresh food is a hell of a lot better than expired funnel cake or slightly moldy fruit.”

“Fair enough.”

She started towards the kitchen, then stopped again to look Gage full in the eye.

“I want to make sure that the kids don’t get hurt. Not just Pins and Needles. Any kid who might show up. Teens too. They’re nowhere near old enough to join up. That’s not the kind of outfit I want to run.”

“You serious about wanting to run this?”

“I…” she looked at her hands, still covered in rusted and dried blood. “I do. This isn’t the life I expected, but I can do this. There are things that I want to change. I’m not going to have slaves, Porter.”

There it was again. That pleading in the way she said his name. Like he could giver her every answer.

He sighed.

“I can understand that. What about prisoners?”

“I can work with that, but there’s limits.”

“Why is this such a thing for you, boss?” he asked, frustrated.

She looked at the ground for a moment before moving to a seat.

“Before this, I smuggled people out of the country. I’m not a stranger to illegal activities. But I was getting people out of here to give them a chance to live somewhere that didn’t want to kill them because of who they were born to, who they were. The laws I broke were the ones that needed to be broken. If I hadn’t gotten them out, they were going to be medical experiments or worse.”

Gage sat back in his chair, but said nothing.

“I get that in this role, I’m going to have to do some messed up stuff. I get it, and I’ve made my peace with it. But, I’m not letting kids join if I can help it. I’m not keeping slaves. I don’t want any of my people to die because they cut their hand on some rebar.”

“You really are seeing a big picture,” Gage finally said. “But they don’t think like we do. Everything has to happen in small picture doses, got it, boss? You move too fast, make things happen too quick, they’re liable to turn on you.”

“Alright.” She let out a breath. “What’s the first step to getting this done?”

Chapter Text

Cherry was inclined to agree with the kids that a long day of cleaning should in fact equal sleeping in the next day. But there had been too much on Cherry’s mind after the conversation with Gage. There were too many things that needed to go off just right if her long term goals were to be achieved.

The kids would establish precedence for when Shaun arrived - kids were protected and off limits to the gangs for poaching. Cherry had already sent Gage around to the bosses to let them know what was going on with that. The rest would be the more gradual changes.

The logic that the two had agreed upon the night before was simple. If kids who managed to find their way to Nuka World were attacked, poached, or otherwise put off, then that would make it more difficult for the legitimate business that they were going to be starting. No one from outside of the parks would want to work with someone who would put kids in harms way - and that in turn meant that there would be a lot of caps being pulled from the gangs’ pockets.

“Hey there, Overboss, you called?”

Step two: Chip.

Cherry had spoken with him a few times now, and he seemed to be the only functional handyman around the park. Perfectly fine for one small park, but for the whole of Nuka World? Unacceptable.

“Hey there, Chip. Please have a seat.”

Cherry leaned forward in one of the couches that now made up meeting area on the deck. She’d decided that this area would be more pleasant for meeting with traders. It was open and the light breeze that came in made it preferable to the stuffy inner Fizztop.

Cherry smiled and gestured to a bottle of Nuka-Cola as Chip sat. He smiled back hesitantly and took it.

“I promise, you’re not it any trouble, Chip.” Cherry was more sympathetic than she would want to let on. “I noticed that you don’t really have any help with repairs. I wanted to fix that.”

“I don’t need much help, boss. I’m glad to do it.”

“I understand. I just don’t want you pulled in all directions when we finish taking the parks. Especially come winter. I want to set you up with some apprentices - you have a good idea of who has potential.”

“Oh! Yeah that would make sense.”

“I also want to winterize some of these buildings. I heard that winters have been… less than pleasant all around.”

Chip nodded and sipped thoughtfully on his bottle. He wasn’t relaxed, but he was being receptive at the least.

“I don’t just want to be feared around the Commonwealth. I’m not planning on being Colter. My people aren’t going to keep living in these conditions. The traders are just as much my people as the gangs are.”

“I… see.” He shifted in his seat. “Boss, I’m not sure that there’s much I’d be able to do in the long run. I’ve been here for a long while, so I know how things work, but that’s about it.”

“You and Miss Plummer are good people. You’re also incredibly important to keeping this place running. I can’t make the gangs go away, Chip, but I do have plans to make them work in the traders’ favor. I have some plans in the works that will make conditions a lot more bearable.”

Cherry decided to pretend that she didn’t see his surprise.

“I have Gage out looking over buildings in Kiddie Kingdom and Dry Rock for places that can be used as shelters in case of storms or inclement weather. He’s looking for defensible locations. I’d like to send you out when he’s done to look them over for sound structure and long term use.”

“I really would like to, boss, but the… um… the collar.” He fidgeted with the bottle, spinning it around in his palms.

“That won’t be an issue for much longer. I’m going to have yours disabled. You were serious about this being the only place you could think to be?”

“Y-yeah, boss.”

“Then I want you to be here. Full time. You’ll have a wage and legitimate work. This is just part of it though.” Cherry sat back and looked up at the ceiling with its peeling paint and stains. “I want you to keep an eye on Pins and Needles too, whenever I’m out.”

“Who?”

“The kids I brought in yesterday. They’re very bright. Tailors. I want them kept away from harm. I’m not expecting you to be a guard for them. But I’d like to have the traders in general help with any children that show up.”

“Are… are you expecting more?”

“I’m not ruling out the possibility. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a monster. Like I said. I’m working on bettering the conditions around here. But I don’t want this getting out just yet. I can’t make this happen overnight.”

“Right, boss. I understand.”

“In a few days I’ll be heading out for the next park. I want you to do an appraisal for the main area while I’m gone.”

“Understood.”

“You’re dismissed. And again. Don’t let this get out. I’ll make an announcement when it’s time.”

“Uh, hey, Overboss!”

Cherry looked over at the three Pack boys standing awkwardly by the fountain as Cherry passed.

“We… uh… we were wondering if we could get in on this hauling action. Y’know… make some caps like we heard Miss Plummer talking about.”

Cherry stopped to stare at them. They weren’t very old, probably some of the lowest in rank if they were asking to do work.

“You wouldn’t be passing the work off onto traders. They’ve already got their loads, and if they did your work, they’d get your pay.”

“Of course, Overboss! Wouldn’t dream of it!” said the one who seemed to have drawn the short straw in being the face of the group.

Cherry jerked her chin for them to follow.

Once they got to the Market, the boys fell into that awkward formation, shoulder to shoulder with the face slightly in front to take the direct orders.

Cherry let out a piercing whistle that got all the heads turned toward her.

Step three: Claim.

“We’re clearing out the Market in a few minutes. Finish getting what you’re gonna and then get going. Anyone not working right now, come here.”

A handful of traders and even a few Operators walked over, clearly having heard about the caps to be made.

“We’re going to be clearing out the trash and clutter in here. Same as you did with Cappy’s. Anything salvageable gets taken to the arena for the crew there to disassemble. If it’s cloth or leather we’re making a new pile for our new resident tailors to sort. A hundred caps base pay and another fifty each day you keep working. I want the Market back up and running within a week, am I clear? ”

“Yes, boss!” came a chorus from the traders who were slowly becoming less meek around her. The raiders looked between each others and a few followed behind the traders while others went back to loitering.

One of the traders stepped forward as the rest dispersed. Her eyes stayed down as she pulled a piece of metal from behind her back - it was shaped like a bottlecap, but was about the size of her head.

“I found this, boss. I don’t know all my letters, but this is your name, right?”

Looking closely, Cherry saw that it was, in fact, a memorabilia clock with a Nuka Cherry theme. She smiled softly and took the chipped and rusty relic. After a moment she saw that it was actually ticking.

“I - well Chip and I - got it running. Thought it would be nice to have something. I’m sorry - if I overstepped.”

“Do you want to learn all of them?” Cherry didn’t look up from the faded script.

“Huh?”

“Your letters. Do you want to learn?”

The trader stared openly now.

“I was thinking about how useful it would be to be able to leave written instructions for when I’m out. It would also help with scouting and keeping track of inventory more clearly.”

“Sure… boss. I mean I would love to. I know a few others who would also be on board.”

“You did good work. What’s your name?”

“Oh.. Uh… Margo.”

“Thank you, Margo. I appreciate it.”

As Cherry got ready to leave after a few minutes of making sure that guests cleared out, there came a crashing sound from the other end of the Market.

“C’mon, you can’t even carry my basket for one second? I told you I’m tired right now.”

One of the Pack boys, and he was talking to a trader. More like shouting to one.

“The Overboss said that-”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what the Overboss said. I said to carry my goddamn basket to the arena. You’re wearing a collar aren’t you? Pretty sure, we know what that means.”

The other Pack boys, the face and a smaller guy with blond hair stepped away, distancing themselves. They made even more space when Cherry approached quietly, out of the shouting boy’s line of sight.

“I didn’t choose to wear this. You people put this on me.”

The boy leaned forward into the trader’s face who Cherry could now see was a man who had helped out with Cappy’s with particular gusto. The boy spit and said in a low voice, “No one wears a collar who doesn’t want to.”

“Is that so?”

The boy snapped up and turned to face Cherry.

“Oh! Overboss, I didn’t see you were still here! I was just disciplining this trader here and-”

Cherry grabbed a fistful of his long greasy hair and brought his face down to hers.

“I’m pretty sure I said that you weren’t going to pass your job off to a trader. Can’t follow basic commands?”

“I- boss! Wait- hold on!”

Step four: Establish law.

Cherry slammed his head to the ground and pinned an arm behind him while he was dazed.

“You two!” Cherry called to the other Pack boys. “Go let Mason know I’m coming. And I’m pissed.”

Cherry dragged the boy kicking and screaming by his arm and his hair to the amphitheater. By the time she threw the boy onto the stage at Mason’s feet, the boys who had been helping were already back at the Market. But the stands were packed with raiders who looked both intrigued and angry.

“Well, boss. What brings you here with one of my guys?”

“One of your guys thought it would be alright to break his word to me.”

“I didn’t promi-”

Cherry kicked him in the gut. The slam of his body against the wood was more than satisfying.

“Who the fuck said it was your turn to speak?” she asked coldly, not raising her voice.. “Now, Mason. This pup of yours seems to have been poorly trained. Not only did he break a promise to me, he also all but shouted that he didn’t ‘give a rat’s ass what the Overboss said.’”

Mason raised an eyebrow and glanced down at the boy who was now whimpering.

“That don’t sound like one of my guys, boss.”

Cherry nodded. “But, I figured if he’s wearing Pack colors and hanging with Pack kids then it would be you who gets to decide which punishment would work out. I’ve got a list to choose from, if that helps.”

Mason sat back and held his hands up, palms to the sky. “I gotta say, that does sound fair, Overboss.”

“The way I see it, there are three options. He slighted me, so I get him in the ring until I’m done and let you finish the job - he claims he’s one of your boys after all.”

Mason nodded.

“Option two: exile and if he steps foot back in our territory after a day, he’s fair game for anyone on patrol.”

Another nod.

“And the last option,” Cherry said, leaning over the boy so she was speaking directly to him, “is he gets collared until we think he’s learned his lesson. Whenever that might be. But he gets to live.”

The boy jerked a head up to Cherry and then looked to Mason.

“Please. Alpha, I didn’t do anything wrong! All I did was dis-”

“Did our Overboss say you could talk?”

“I-”

“Did I say you could talk?” Mason asked, standing now.

“No, Alpha.”

“Then why is noise coming out of your bitchy little mouth, huh? I hope you’ll forgive this disrespect, Overboss. I think that he really does need to learn a lesson.”

“You know, Mason. I don’t think I want to give him an easy way out. Death seems too good for him, don’t you think?”

Mason grinned, sharp canines poking through his words as he answered, “I think I could use a new toy.”

“I think we’re in agreement then. Have a spare collar somewhere?”

Mason snapped a finger, and Robin came running with an open collar. Without hesitation, Cherry took it.

“Boss, if you want to do this, it needs to start with the next person who talks shit to you. Whether its to your face or not. You need to establish dominance over these assholes. It can’t be the other bosses. But look for some upstart. Pack or Disciples would be best since we ain’t secured the park for Operators yet.”

“Alright. Something tells me it won’t be that hard to orchestrate something. Both tend to have members with short tempers. I could probably have that done as early as tomorrow, honestly.”

“And you can’t hesitate. I mean it, boss, even one second that you break character, it’ll undermine the whole thing.”

Cherry snapped the collar around the boy’s neck, and said, “I hope you know that you chose this. After all, no one wears a collar who doesn’t want to.”

Chapter Text

As soon as Cherry was done, she made eye contact with Mason and jerked her head toward Fizztop. He nodded back and muttered something to Robin before following.

“You two,” Cherry snapped to a stray Disciple and Operator who had come to see the spectacle, “tell Nisha, Mags, and William that we’re holding a boss’ meeting. Now.”

The two immediately went through the gate without so much as a grunt of confirmation.

There was something that felt just a little right about having the hulking man behind her following orders. When they passed The Parlor, Mags and William were already waiting outside and met Cherry’s stride. Even Nisha was waiting by the lift instead of making Cherry wait or even already sitting inside.

It’s respect. 

A surge of not quite pride swelled in Cherry’s chest.

On the deck, the kids were converting the grimy and busted mannequins into dress forms that could be adjusted to different specifications. Cherry didn’t look at them and instead gestured to the seats around a coffee table.

“Well damn, boss,” Mason said, “I thought it was a joke, but you really did bring a couple of kids here.”

Cherry shrugged. “They’re important to what I want done.”

Mags took a seat first, crossing her ankles and leaning into the armrest of her chair. “And what is it you want done?”

“We’re taking the Commonwealth this winter.”

The bosses stared.

“Winter. You mean storm season?” William asked.

“Yup.”

“Boss, no offense, but that’s-”

“How many gangs are active in the Commonwealth?”

No one answered, but out of the corner of her eye, Cherry saw Pins fidget and glance over at the bosses.

“You have an answer, Pins?”

“Nine major gangs not counting any of our runners and about eighteen minor, Cherry Boss.”

“And of the major ones, which are this area?”

“Gunners and us,” they said, not looking away from Cherry's cool gaze.

“This kid really thinks that they’re part of this outfit, boss?” Mason smirked.

“Because they are. Meet our new armor and clothing specialists.”

The bosses altogether looked unimpressed.

“Pins, Needles. Front and center.”

The duo scrambled from their work and stood still in front of the small group of adults who could very easily kill them, but there was no noticeable fear in them as they kept Cherry’s gaze.

They had been told that this was going to happen and what to do if they were too scared to keep going. Pins’ spine was straight, and Needles held her head high.

“These two are off limits,” Cherry said, nothing in her tone leaving room for argument. “In fact, any kids or teens are off limits from joining up. They can work, they can prove themselves, but they don’t get to join up with anyone until I give the okay. I don’t want my people to just be fodder because some kid with a gun had the bright idea to take a bunch of Gunners.”

“How are we supposed to recruit then?” Mags asked.

“What you need kids to get your numbers, dollface?” Nisha let out a sharp laugh. “No wonder you’re all so soft.”

“Quiet.” Cherry didn’t raise her voice, but both women clamped their mouths shut, even as they fumed.

She stood up and went to make herself a drink.

“The gangs being entirely separate isn’t going to last. Hell, half the things I see about how Coulter ran things is unsustainable. These two are going to be step one in how things are changing. They aren’t traders. They aren’t officially with the raiders. But they’re going to be part of Nuka World’s spine.”

She paused and felt pride at how the kids still stood straight without looking like they were afraid. Neither of them had tapped out the signal either.

“Red Eye isn’t affiliated with anyone. Shank either. But the two of them keep the place going in their own way. Nothing I build is going to be short term. I trust that you all also want to think in the long term. Raiding for shit is all well and good in the short term, but to have dedicated sources for everything is always better than relying on a single farm for food.”

William nodded thoughtfully to Mags. Mason pursed his lips.

“You want us to stop raiding?”

“What do you pull from raids in the winter?”

“Not much,” he admitted.

“Then what the point of wasting those winter resources for shit that isn’t going to yield much for us in the long run? These kids here are good at what they do. You can take a look at their work if you want proof.”

“What does that have to do with taking the Wealth in the winter?”

“We’re starting off by taking each of these gangs down. Minor first, then moving on to the major ones. But it’s not just numbers that I want us to have over those peons out there. We’re going to be smart. These two,” Cherry waved a hand at them and sat back in her seat with a glass of juice, “are going to provide basics that we’ll need for keeping our first wave from dying from exposure to the elements on top of upgrading our armor.”

“What, like a uniform?”

“No. I’m not taking away what makes each gang their own. Each of you have something specific that you bring to the table. Each thing in its place. What I want is to treat the gangs less like separate entities and more like a unified force. We aren’t taking the Commonwealth for the Disciples, Operators, and Pack. We’re taking it for Nuka World. We’re taking it because we’re stronger than those assholes out there taking what should be ours.”

“And you really think we need - what - better clothes for this? C’mon, boss.”

The lift sounded off at that point, moving down slowly and then the creak of wood as someone took it back up.

That was fast.

Gage stepped onto the deck with a groan and eyed the group by the kitchenette. Cherry hadn’t expected him to be back until the next day, but she guessed he must have already had places in mind when she sent him out.

“Got it mapped out, boss.”

Cherry nodded and held her hand out for the piece of paper that Gage approached with. The list of repairs needed was detailed, but not too extensive.

“The hell are you two doing up here?” Gage asked with a raised brow, but otherwise no surprise showing.

“Cherry Boss hasn’t dismissed us, Mr. Gage.” Pins answered, still looking at Cherry.

Cherry held back the smile that was fighting to form.

“You in on this, Gage?” Mason asked, obviously surprised.

Gage shrugged. “The boss wants ‘em, the boss gets ‘em. Don’t hurt to have a dedicated place for repairs.”

“Speaking of,” Cherry put the list down on the coffee table. “Pins, Needles, you two take what you need and go back downstairs. You’ll start work once I’m back from the bottling plant.”

Needles frowned but gave a sharp nod.

“You have something to say, Needles?”

This is it. You can do it.

“Yes, Cherry Boss.”

“Shoot.”

With a slow turn of her head, Needles looked over each of the bosses, took a deep breath, and squared her shoulders.

“The Gunners killed our family, so we decided to join up with the strongest gang in the Commonwealth. Pins and I did our research. It led us to you. We came here all the way from Quincy because there’s no one stronger.” She looked to Gage and then to Cherry with a firm smile crawling over her thin face. “Pins and I will do whatever the boss needs us to do. If she says we’re going to clothe a hundred people before winter, then that’s what we’re going to do. The boss says we can’t be raiders, but we can make sure that the gang has everything they need to not die from something as stupid as frostbite. That's not how a real raider goes out.”

Needles nodded and turned on her heel, pulling Pins along with her. They collected the mannequin bodies and dragged them to inner Fizztop.

“I think I like that one,” Mags said with a laugh as the door closed.

“I wouldn’t have brought anyone without conviction into this.” Cherry pointedly didn’t look as Gage leaned against the wall beside her. “I wasn’t joking about how good their work is. Everything they were wearing was something they made. They can work with leather and cloth just as easily as they can draft up designs. I tested it out last night. The way that those clothes are layered up, it serves as light leather armor without being cumbersome.”

Mason whistled. “You know a lot about that shit, huh?”

“It’s my business to know everything that can be useful. I don’t need anything useless taking up space in anything I build.”

“Then why is Red Eye still here?” Gage muttered, causing a round of snickers.

“Because he can actually run a radio set with no training and can reliably get word out when we need it. If it can have a use, I’ll find it. If it can’t, then I’ll get rid of it.”

“How old are they?” William asked.

“Best guess is the small one, Needles is around twelve, and Pins is ten. Their parents were textile specialists and the kids were supposed to eventually take over the family business.”

“I’ll have someone run over samples of our armor,” Nisha said casually. “You say that you’re keeping our individuality, I want to make sure they get ours right.”

Cherry grinned. “Trust me, you’ll enjoy what I have planned for each of you.”

She tapped a finger down on the list Gage had brought.

“Wave one is what’s going out this winter. We’re going to take care of the smaller gangs and take over their territory, making it look like its individual gangs so we can slip in without raising flags from any of the major gangs. I want to take them with more in depth planning.”

“So what’s this?”

“Gage, give them the rundown.”

He pushed himself off of the wall and sat on the arm of Cherry’s chair so he could more easily gesture to the roughly drawn maps he unfolded onto the table - one labeled Mine and the other Castle.

“Those who don’t go out with the first wave are going to hunker down in their parks for training and get ready for the second wave. The boss had me go take a look at the parks we’ve already taken for which buildings would be best suited to wait out storms. These two are the best option for quick conversions and cleanup.”

“We’ll have the second wave go out in the middle of December,” Cherry added,

“so we’ll have about a month and a half to get them into gear. We’re not doing this half-cocked. When we take somewhere, I don’t want anyone to think that they can just show up to take over what we already have or try and play themselves off as part of our outfit without running the Gauntlet.”

“Chip is gonna train up some people to handle repairs at each park since he can’t be everywhere at one time. It would help if we have someone from each gang able to do emergency repairs on buildings too, but I ain’t holding my breath.”

“And these repairs you’ve got listed here, what’s the point?”

“Its the same thing as throwing the celebrations after we’ve taken a park. It’s not for any of us that are sitting here. It’s for them,” Cherry gestured to the open window. “Its easier to keep them happy if they’re not freezing to death. But grunts like them need to be tricked into work half the time, especially if they’ve had a year of doing the bare minimum of what’s expected.”

“Raiders don’t work.” Nisha.

“Then raiders don’t eat.” Cherry said simply, “I told you. I don’t keep anything or anyone that’s useless to me. So far, none of you have proven yourself to be less than amenable to change. I trust you to guide your groups in the direction that we need in order to make sure that the mentality Colter got them in is eradicated. No more of this sitting around waiting for shit to drop in our laps. That’s not how we become respected. Fear for the sake of fear isn’t interesting to me. I want the respect that comes with it. I want to make sure that we are untouchable on top of being strong.”

“You’re serious.” Mags.

“I don’t joke about the future. We will take the Commonwealth. We will do it while everyone else is complacent. I won’t take anything else as an answer.”

“And after that?” William.

“We get everything we want. We hold that power and crush anyone stupid enough to think that they can take it from us.”

“What do you need us to do, boss?” Mason.

“Start picking who you want where. I want at least thirty people from each gang ready to go out in the first wave. Everyone else is going to make sure that we have the entirety of this area solely ours. There’s no excuse for Gunners in our territory. Gage and I are heading to the World of Refinement after tomorrow. I want one person from each of you identified for being able to do on the ground repairs, armor samples given to Pins and Needles for then to brush up on the current armor, and one more thing.”

Cherry moved her eyes to Mason. “That shit doesn’t happen again. They should know better than to do shit like that - and within minutes of me giving orders, too. I want you to let your people know, all of you, that that shit will get you collared faster than I can snap their arm.”

The bosses stiffened. Cherry had counted on the runners she’d sent to call on them to relay what had happened at the amphitheater, even if it was only a quick rundown.

“Your grunts seem to think its okay to be mouthy to me when they aren’t the ones getting these parks. That shit stops today. I’m not making a law, I’m making a promise. If I give an order, it’s happening. Mason, it was out of courtesy that I took him to you first. Next time, there won’t be a choice on the punishment. He's still useful as a body, so he’s staying here as a body. That's the only reason he wasn't stabbed where he stood. What you do with him now is your call, but he’s banned from working for Miss Plummer for pay.”

“There won’t be a next time, boss.”

Cherry nodded.

“You’re all dismissed. We’ll talk more once I’m back from the next park. I’ve got prep to do.”

Cherry watched the group leave, Gage still sitting beside her on the arm of the chair.

It wasn’t until the lift was silent for a few minutes that Cherry let out a stream of air and rested her forehead on Gage’s forearm.

“That sucked ass.”

He let out a chuckle.

“So you collared someone?”

“Some Pack kid.”

“Good job, boss.”

“The kids had their script down perfectly.”

“Course they did. They don’t want to fuck up something good.”

A pause. Neither of them so much as shifted.

“Hey, Porter?”

He grunted in response.

“Thanks for trusting me to take care of that on my own.”

He didn’t say anything, didn’t move, didn't breathe. Cherry lifted her head, meeting his eye with what she knew were tired, almost defeated eyes.

“I think I need a nap.”

“I’ll get the lift unplugged, boss. You rest up.”

He stood up, but Cherry held his wrist to stop him from moving away entirely.

There was no force to it, and he didn’t jerk away from her touch.

“This isn’t supposed to feel good. This isn’t supposed to be what I do.”

Porter leveled his gaze to her, slowly kneeling down to be directly face to face. His mouth was pressed into a firm line as his eye traveled from the scars traveling from her temple into her hairline to the callousing fingertips that still held gently to his wrist.

“I don’t see why not. You did what you needed to do. When all this is over, you won’t be the one getting your hands dirty unless you wanna. Until then, tell me what you want. I’ll take care of everything, Cherry.”

Cherry swallowed the lump that was trying to push tears up and out of her.

For the first time, it really hit.

This man was the only one on her side right now. The bosses, they had no real reason to listen unless she gave them what they wanted.  The kids weren’t real allies yet. The traders had no leverage, no matter how much she ingratiated herself to them.

For all of Porter’s bluster and frustration, he’d been patient. He explained everything. Answered every question. He had chosen to stay by her side, even when it was more than inconvenient.

“I want to cry.”

Chapter Text

He should have known better.

When the boss said she’d handle it herself, when he made the kids drill their lines before he left, when he repeated to the boss exactly what she needed to do while he was away.

She wasn’t playing some game at all.

Every time she broke or asked for basic information, she was being genuine. With the story she’d told, he’d expected it much sooner - if it would happen at all.

Her eyes looked dead at her admission. Other than that, there was no give to her expression. Definitely no tears.

I want to cry.

How did you make someone cry without hurting them beyond repair? How were you supposed to work under someone so weak that they wanted to show weakness to someone? Or was that weakness at all?

She’d stayed stoic in front of the bosses, he'd give her that. In front of the kids. In front of him, up until now. In every way that she’s broken down so far, she hadn’t done it publicly.

He’d been afraid of this, which was why he’d rushed his trip in the first place. He’d paid some of the Pack and Disciples to split up in their respective parks and get details of what needed fixing and did the more technical search himself. He’d made sure to leave before the sun came up and got back before it went down. 

She’d thanked him for trusting her.

But he didn’t trust the boss.

Hadn’t, he mentally corrected.

He hadn’t thought she’d follow through with the plan, as soft as she seemed. She’d really collared someone. She’d met with the bosses and laid it all out. She’d even called Mason out for being the one to be housing that peon of a raider. 

Gage sighed as he looked her over. 

“Gimme a second, alright? I’ll be back.”

He called up the lift, pulled it’s plug, and went downstairs to tell the kids to stay there.

“Everything alright, Mr. Gage?” Pins asked.

“Yeah. Boss is workin’ on something sensitive, so y’all stay here and don’t butt in.”

Needles scoffed and gestured to the piles of discarded fabric, leather, and rope.

“We’ve got work to do anyway.” Then she muttered, “Someone’s gotta make sure the old man over here doesn’t get tetanus.”

He rolled his eye at her and went back up, briefly stopping into the kitchen.

What had his ma done? Did he really even need to be doing this shit?

“You get what you pay for,” he murmured to himself while he browsed through the dried meat and cans of food.

On one hand, she’d definitely done more than he’d expected in a tenth of the time anyone thought would be possible. On the other, she was a liability. Granted, anyone would have been.

He’d lied through his teeth when Colter started falling from grace. He’d lied when he said he could make sure that everything was taken care of, no matter who was the puppet.

He’d lied when he told her that he’d take care of everything.

When he used her name like it meant something to him, the way that she would use his.

Thing was, that was the trick to lying. You just… didn’t. Not really.

Using her name did mean something. It meant that she’d think he was softening up to her. Hell, maybe he was. He would never have gotten something for Colter’s mood swings. Never would have let someone use the position of Overboss without his okaying each decision.

So what makes her so special?

He pursed his lips, grabbed a can of cram and a mutfruit.

He shouldn’t have used her name. Should have known better. It was the same shit that started Colter’s downslide, and look how that shat the bed. Granted, Colter was something else when it all started.

She was a mostly blank slate. Would be even more malleable if he was able to use this break to his advantage. The problem was that to her, he wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a right hand. A problem solver. He was the guy with the answers and solutions and a gun.

Not a shoulder to cry on. Not someone to sit and play house with.

Walking back onto the deck, he turned to the “conference area” she’d made and used everything he had not to look to the heavens for an answer to how deep in the shit he was.

She was curled up around her knees, looking out the window. She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t making any noise that he could hear other than a deep even breathing, rhythmic and slow.

“Porter?” she asked when he sat across from her and put the food on the table. Her eyes were fixed to a branch that was tapping against glass.

“Why do you call me that?”

A blink, but no other movement.

“It’s your name.”

“No one calls me that. Not in decades, so no one alive at least.”

It hadn’t been getting on his nerves so much as it was unnerving him. It was too familiar. Even as familiar as Colter had been, as the bosses before him. No one but his parents had ever called him that. As a kid, to anyone else, he’d been That Gage Boy or maybe Rascal. One old man had called him Junior.

“Shame,” she replied, vacant of tone. “It’s a good name.”

“It ain’t right for you to call me that.”

“Why not? Gage is different from Porter.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Words mean things. Specifics are important. Intent is important. In court, phrasing would carry weight.” She finally turned to him. “Everyone that calls you Gage wants something from you whenever they use it. Gage is your job.”

“That’s who I am, boss.” He shrugged. “How else are we supposed to stay alive?”

There it was.

The mask of nothing broke into a that anger he was getting so used to. So fond of. It was something powerful to have that look turned on you. It was a look that said she’d get shit done. She’d move everything in her way to get to the thing pissing her off.

It wasn’t like his ma’s when he’d forgotten to close a gate. It wasn’t like the traders’ when they thought no one was looking. Nothing like Colter’s bottles at the bottom off his drawers.

This wasn’t directed at Gage. This was raw knuckles against asphalt that kept on swinging. It was a cracked, bleeding skull bleeding out against thick bark while a hand moved for another blow. This was something he could foster into a terrifying force if she’d let him.

God, he could turn her into something beautiful.

“You’re more than survival. All of us are.”

That fire in her eye could burn anything in her way. Would burn everything.

And almost immediately, it died back down to coals.

“I’ll stop,” she whispered as she turned back to the tree. “If you ask, I’ll stop. You can be your job, and I’ll be ‘the boss.’ I’ll use you, and you’ll use me, and it’ll never end until we’re both dead in a ditch.”

He groaned into his hand and moved himself firmly into her line of sight. In front of her. Cherry. The woman he’d dragged into this mess so he could pull himself out.

He didn’t regret it; would do it again, no question. There wasn’t a twinge of guilt when he looked her over and considered her with a critical eye.

Her skin and soul had darkened from the work. You could see it in the way her freckles had become as pronounced as the exhaustion that slumped her shoulders. Chipped nail polish had long since been peeled off of chewed nails. Long red hair had given over to a near permanent bun. Jumpsuits and work boots were her go to clothes as opposed to something that exuded the power she technically held.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t making sacrifices, Gage realized. It was that she wasn’t making all of them. He still had something she was holding onto and that was what stopped her from letting go. From being a feral threat to the entirety of the Commonwealth.

Not the kid. The kid made sense. The kid was the why she was willing to sacrifice at all. No, there had to be something else there.

It wasn’t until she reached for the cram that he realized how long he’d been staring at her staring at branches. His leg had even gone numb from him leaning into it.

“You wanna cry, then do it.”

“I don’t remember how right now. There’s just… so much to mourn. So many steps to mourning at all. And,” hesitation clouded her eyes as she popped open the can, “I don’t want to grieve.”

“What is there to mourn? Everything you’ve said about Pre-War sounds like a shit hole.”

She smiled softly, pinching bits of cram between her fingers before putting it into her mouth.

“It’s not the same as being worthless. Like… things that have defined me for my entire life just… don’t matter now? Is it even important that my dad is… was Irish? That he took my mom’s name? What about the fact that I did legal work? I was supposed to be picking out a stupid themed costume for Shaun for Halloween and now I don’t even know if that’s something that’s transcended time. It’s coming up on the literal darkest time of the year, and I don’t know what traditions there are now to cope with that. The coldest months, and how do people keep warm? How do people get through winter anymore when there’s so much emptiness all between?”

Still no tears. So, Gage let her talk.

“Why did I make it through? Everyone else in those pods were dead when I left. All of them. Kids, the elderly, the new couple that had just moved in. I stepped out of that godawful place that was nothing but corpses. I didn’t even-” she choked, “I didn’t even bother to check if there was anyone who’d made it. I didn’t go look to see if there were survivors that had lived on and had kids and lived in those same houses. I should have gone back, should have looked. Even if there was no one, then I would have known.”

“And you’d kick yourself in the ass for something else, I’m sure,” he grumbled.

Gage leaned back when the spirit came back into Cherry’s eyes.

“I’m just sayin’ ain’t your fault that you’re holding winning cards, is all.”

He had her on the hook. He was sure of it.

“Way I see it,” he continued, looking anywhere but at those eyes that were drilling him into place, “you’re trying to get everything under your control and using all the rules from the wrong game.”

He gestured to the room around them. It had been cleaned by hand, scrubbed, swept free of debris, re-organized into careful sections - sleeping area, kitchenette, where she met with the bosses, where she worked on projects inside the bar area. None of it was what Gage would call normal. But it was something that she’d taken great lengths to maintain, like anyone cared that the couches were stain-free.

“This is nice and all, but it’s not what anyone else would focus on unless they were in a town. Somewhere where order matters. Not saying it’s wrong, just that it’s a choice that raiders don’t see. Same thing with what you’re passing as your law. You’ve got a perfectly good rulebook sitting right here, but you’re playing a different game completely.

He glanced at her furrowed brow. He hadn’t talked this long without being pissed in a good while, and for a second he thought it was showing. But she looked to be genuinely taking in his words.

“You’ve just learned what you got, boss. You’re a lucky asshole, and you think you’re losing when you got the best hand you can get.”

“I know that.” She wasn’t quiet, but there was no conviction to her. “I know I’ve got it better than most, but-“

“What the hell else is there?”

“Thriving! Living! Fucking… existing without specific function!”

There. Right there.

The smallest of twitches in her nose.

“You see this place, right? Ain’t no one here thriving. Everyone’s pissed, drunk, high, or all of the above. They go out, kill some sorry sons of bitches, and bring back what they can carry. If they don’t get that shit done, they’re the ones getting killed.” Another push. “Everyone’s function here, darlin.’ No one’s special.”

“No!”

The rage flared back up into a white hot metal just on the edge of touching.

Kindling just about to catch.

“How are- no. No! It’s bullshit! I’m not letting anything I touch be that. I can’t. I can’t bring Shaun into-”

A catch in her throat.

“I’m not letting it stay like this. I’m not staying alone.”

The break.

He saw the first tear fall and considered for a moment to let her have that privacy, to look away. But instead, he made himself watch. He’d done this, and there were consequences to that.

He’d done this to her. He needed to. Damn it, no.

She wanted this. It’s not my fault if I gave her what she wanted.

She was quiet about it. No sobs, no wails. Just those endless tears crashing across her skin and down her shirt. Just the sniffling from the curled up mass on the chairs that kept her eyes shut tight.

“You didn’t say.”

It was little more than a whisper.

“Didn’t say what?”

“Do you want me to stop? Calling you ‘Porter,’ I mean.”

“Dunno if I care enough,” he lied.

He didn’t care what she thought of him, how she addressed him. He cared more about how the bosses would see it. How it would affect him in the long run.

“You should. Names are important.”

Gage frowned.

Above all things, he was someone who survived. He’d made himself into that kind of man, and it had cost him more than he cared to admit. He’d burned bridges. He’d carved as many bodies as it took to make sure that he was just memorable enough to be feared, respected. To earn the place that made sure the last decade had been easy.

Once they got the park for the Operators, there would be another part of survival that was more natural to him instead of the constant looking over his shoulder for the bosses.

He wouldn’t necessarily need to keep having these kinds of conversations where she was trying so hard to humanize him. He’d never been good at talks like this; he didn’t want to be. Let him plan and puppeteer over trying to understand why she was so insistent on finding something he’d thrown away years ago.

“Cherries are a type of fruit.”

“What in the hell are you on about now?” he groaned.

She stuttered out a sharp laugh that caught him off guard. She was methodical in her come down. She wasn’t talking to him so much as she was restructuring the world around her. She looked to the ceiling, breathed in long and deep, and then turned back to Gage. She was clear again, sharp, with the edge of her anger somewhere close enough to touch.

He wanted that rage. Wanted to hold it in his hands and taint it.

It would be something amazing to see, her diving headlong into everything she was denying herself and to know that he had done it. That he’d taken her into the worst she could possibly be. How many opportunities did you have to do that to someone that could be an upstanding citizen of Diamond City? She could be a goddamn Minuteman, and she was sitting right here in the palm of his hand. She had so much fucking potential for terror.

In his mind’s eye, she was white clouds roiling into dark thunderstorms. She was the moment before putting a fist through a mirror, holding someone down with a boot to the throat, a baseball bat midswing. If he could just get a more secure grip. If she’d let him grab her and darken each place his hands touched until she was a monster.

“My parents named me after something endangered,” she said, pulling him out of the sudden greed. “Something that I never got the chance to taste. There was flavored stuff, sure. But what my mom loved wasn’t that type. She loved the black cherries. They were bitter, tart. When I was about ten, the last orchard that kept them was burned. I was named after something bitter and dying and adored for it. I loved that. My name didn’t mean anything special. When I got older, my mom even told me she wouldn’t be upset if I changed it. But it was mine because I made it mine. Every time I got in a fight at school, I was living up to what I decided I was going to be.”

Gage didn’t laugh at the scowl she gave him when he rolled his eye.

He could have, the way it made her face pucker up.

“What about it? You gonna tell me what my name means like it’s something important?”

“No. It’s just… it’s like Red Eye. The story about his name is bullshit. We all know it. But that’s telling of who he is. And you-” she waved a hand over where he sat leaned back against the back cushion. “You introduced yourself with your full name. Not just Gage. You even clarified.”

She was fiddling with something in her hand. When he looked closer, he could see that it was the ring she’d pull out when they were taking a breather. She passed it across and around fingers in soft flicks.

“My name meant everything, not just to me, but to those around me. At least my last name did. My parents were activists in university. My dad came from a long family of them. My mom was first generation. I grew up with a target on my parents. On me. There were classmates that were taken because of their names. People we smuggled out of the country because of them. You can’t just say that they aren’t important.”

The ring stopped moving, and Gage turned his gaze back up to the steely eyes that bored into him, trying to pull something out.

“You used your full name. That means something. You care that I use it. At least enough to ask why I do. That means something.”

Call me whatever you want.

“All I was trying to do was get it across to you that I don’t give two shits. I was just curious. You’re here now, not there. Here, we take what we want. You in particular get to do that.”

“What, am I supposed to just have a list of demands?”

Gage shrugged.

“That’s not helpful.”

“You’re the boss, not me.”

“What if I don’t want to be?”

“Ain’t too concerned about that, honestly.”

Gage was surprised when it flew out of his mouth, but did his best to hide the way his body wanted to stiffen up at the admission. She on the other hand stared at him with her mouth parted ever so slightly.

“You don’t think I would just walk away?”

“If you really wanted to, you woulda by now. Got a decent enough idea of you. Instead, you’re sitting here asking me to make you cry and planning winter infrastructure. No offense, boss, but that ain’t the habits of a runner.”

She stared at him. She barely seemed to breathe. He was less observed and more studied. She looked like she expected him to say something else, so when she pursed her lips, he sighed.

“Truth of it is, you want to be here.”

She leaned back like that was what she needed to hear. Her eyes closed and behind the lids, they danced.

When she opened them back up, she let out an exhale.

“Alright.”

“Alright?”

“Alright.”

She said it like it was obvious, but Gage knew he was missing something.

“You’re right. I do want this. But I want more than this, too.”

“Whatever you need doing, I can make it happen.”

She stood, looking down at him, calculating openly.

“I want you to be honest with me.”

“Done.”

“I want to find my son.”

“Actively workin’ on it.”

“I want to free the traders.”

“Don’t want to get shot in the night, so yeah.”

“I want to start this over. If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do this right.”

Gage felt his bottom lip crack from how sharply his grin spread across his face.

“I’m your guy. The name’s Gage. Porter Gage.”

Chapter Text

Cherry woke up in a pile of notes that she’d taken and spread out inside the glorified project area that was once a bar. It made the perfect place to work on things in a way that felt good, sitting cross-legged on the floor and in the zone. It also helped that it wasn’t immediately visible to anyone coming up the lift.

Pins and Needles were curled up together on a mattress that they’d dragged over last night. The two had definitely earned the sleep. When Cherry and Porter had suggested making Cherry some custom armor, the duo jumped on the chance near immediately. Between the measuring, drafting designs, and planning out the logistics, the kids had thought of every possible adjustment. They had even convinced Gage that he needed something more effective for when it was time to go into the Commonwealth.

The whole situation was surreal. Now that it was really and truly set in that there was no one else aside from her and Shaun left from her old life, Cherry wanted to have something that was hers. If that meant turning a raider command post into a thriving community, then that was a project that would occupy her for ages. But there was something about the way that Porter had watched her, given her the good cry that she has needed, pushed her over the edge but didn’t let go.

That smile he’d given her had sent a shiver through her spine just remembering it. She knew she was making a deal with a devil. She’d made plenty of those before, hell she’d finished law school and kept her soul after a decade of practicing. She’d done a lot that would have corrupted people, not that she was a saint - her hacking and lockpicking skills had come from somewhere. But when she shook Gage’s hand, she’d felt something leave her, just a little bit.

Maybe it was the fact that there were definitely going to be people that she hurt. Sometimes actively. It was one thing to throw someone around a ring or even temporarily punishing someone with threat of death. That’s the thing, it was all temporary. But there had been something in that promise. An agreement that she was going to try to do what needed to be done. And if that meant killing, that’s what would be expected.

But she’d do what she needed to do to carve out somewhere safe for Shaun to grow up. If that meant that she had to really commit to this, to truly becoming the face of a raider boss, then so be it.

“Don’t know how you survived this long, sleepin’ like that.”

Cherry flushed as she turned her head to face him.

Gage was sitting at the bar, one hand languidly holding a cigarette and the other supporting his chin. His face was darker from stubble that he hadn’t gotten the chance to shave.

The night prior, his armor had been dismantled into as many pieces as possible and spread out onto the bar, small labels held down by each piece of metal.

Gage scowled at the dismantled armor beside him and the children holding onto each other. Even his eyepatch had been replaced with a less intimidating piece of cloth that hinted at the scarred burns underneath. He’d agreed only when Cherry had confessed that from a defensive standpoint, the armor was less armor and more shrapnel.

For now, while the kids reworked the concept to be more protective, he was wearing less… interesting… metal armor that had been cleared out of the Market and passed his inspection. Cherry was vaguely disappointed that her view of his arms was interrupted, but had been glad to see him in something that actually constituted armor.

“I’ve had a pretty good body guard making sure no one snuck up on me,”

Cherry replied, tearing her eyes away from where he started sucking on his cigarette.

I need to get this out of my system soon.

“Might wanna turn on your radio, boss. Got that message to RedEye for you. He hasn’t shut up about it since.”

Cherry fiddled with the Pipboy at her side and tuned in to Raider Radio.

“-ccording to some trusted sources, the Overboss is gonna have us going into the Commonwealth in about a month, so sharpen your knives, oil your guns, and get your practice in. Overboss Cherry is only taking-”

Cherry shot her head up back to Gage who took another drag off his cigarette in response. She couldn’t hide the smile that broke across her face if she wanted to.

“Shut up and keep listenin,’” he grumbled even though Cherry hadn't so much as breathed a word.

“-she says that if you want to get out there and show the Commonwealth your stuff, you gotta earn it. No embarrassments out there. No bad shots or loose canons. And for those of you who don’t make the cut, there’s shit we’re doing here too. Overboss Cherry says that the Gunners are dead meat. You’ve seen them out wandering our wastes. Boss says that’s bullshit, and it’s time we show some spunk. Now, this is just me, but the Boss has done the impossible as far as I’m concerned. Two parks in under two weeks and still planning on getting more for us. Now, I know I say to stick to the parks, but the Gunners are assholes and not the kind that we like. Wait hold on that- Look, you know what I mean. What I’m saying is, if the Boss wants the Gunners out of the picture, then that’s some free armor and guns for us to take. Stay out of the parks that aren’t clear, for sure. Gunner camps yes, hostile parks no. Got it?”

Cherry clicked the radio off.

“He was talkin’ about the new armorsmiths we got earlier on. Apparently he was under the impression that we’d kidnapped ‘em. The idiot. Why in the hell would we kidnap some little shits and then bring them here?”

He rolled his eye and pursed his lips.

“Thanks. For clearing that up.”

Cherry stayed on the floor for a little longer to stretch her legs out and get some feeling back in her thighs.

“Alright. The new look is in the works. The orders are given. The Market is getting redone. Tomorrow morning we take off for the bottling plant. What’s the plan for today?”

“Get dressed and grab anything you want to learn how to use as a weapon.”

Cherry looked down at what she was wearing and burned from her cheeks down. She had worked up a sweat while she was breaking down Gage’s armor and had stripped down to a pair of boxers and a tank top. Now, she was feeling a lot more exposed both because of it and because he was sitting above her.

He wasn’t looking at her, though. His eyes were on the scattered drawings and notes that she’d been painstakingly copying down from her Pipboy.

While it was great for some on the fly notation as they went, the Pipboy wasn’t great at conveying to her exactly how she was thinking at the time. Her shorthand was useful, but in a pinch, a diagram or a quick sketch of a notable location was better. She’d spent the entire night tearing end pages from books and sewing them together to make a decently thick, but small notebook that she could carry with her as they went.

She’d actually gotten the idea from Gage, who usually wrote in the evenings now.

“Right. Um, what exactly do you mean anything I want to learn to use?”

His eye flicked up to her, and that burning heat enveloped her. Maybe it was hormones and her period was coming up or something, maybe it was the fact that he was showing genuine attempts to help her, but there was a way he had of looking at her that made her long for a cold shower.

“You can swing a bat and you’re a good enough shot. But if you’re planning to send me off again, I need to know that you can hold your own without me there. Not everything is going to be hand to hand. I saw that fight you had with Robin when you got here. I’ll admit, I don’t have doubts about you winnin’ that kind of a fight. You takin’ down Colter also showed that you can think through your problems and get creative with it.” He glanced at the kids, making sure they were still sleeping deeply. “But your marksmanship leaves something to be desired and a bat can only do so much damage. I need to take stock of what you’re bringing to the table and what needs actual improvement.”

Cherry groaned. “You’re not going to have me run the Gauntlet again, are you?”

Gage’s eyebrows raised.

“I wasn’t planning on it, but now that you mention it, that might be useful.”

Cherry sat on the ledge of the doorway over the pit. Apparently, there had been confirmations of mirelurks in the World of Refreshment. Apparently those godawful things at the bottom of the pit in the Gauntlet were mirelurks. Nukalurks, to be specific - and there was a difference.

According to Gage, normally, they didn’t glow from passive radiation exposure. These had taken in so much Nuka-Quantum over the last two hundred yeas that they all glowed blue in the meat. And apparently, they were pretty tasty as far as that went because of how they had essentially been brining in a Nuka-Cola solution from the moment they hatched.

Gage knelt behind her, adjusting the way she held the gun and running her through drills yet again. She had moved from a sit to a stand to laying on her belly and all the way back without yet having fired a shot. After nearly an hour of that, he had finally let her hold the hunting rifle she’d been using as her ranged weapon. And now there was another hour of drills for posture with the hunting rifle.

“Alright, boss,” he said, adjusting her hand placement, “for now, we’re looking at taking down only one of these assholes. Once we have a corpse to work with, we’ll drag it out so you can look over the anatomy.”

“Big word for a raider,” Cherry grumped.

He scoffed. “I’ll have you know, I’m very familiar with lots of anatomy. Human too. Comes with the territory. Now focus," then under his breath, "fuckin’ clown.”

Cherry snorted.

She lined up the iron sights like she’d been instructed. Generally, when she’d been a kid, she’d opted for bow hunting over guns. It felt more satisfying. But that also meant that she was incredibly rusty with her gun use. Sure, she had taken safety classes, even renewed her license each year, but that was all theoretical to her. It wasn’t like she’d been walking around with a gun or using one often.

She could line up a shot, but Gage had been right about her accuracy not being great, and that transferred into overusing the ammo they had.

“That small one there is the one we’re gonna lure over. Now of all the positions that we’ve run through, which is the most comfortable to hold the gun in?”

“Standing feels sturdier, but laying down would probably be best from this angle.”

“Alright, lay down then.”

She obliged, feeling Gage above her move to her side. He made minor adjustments and grunted when he was done.

“Now where are you aiming for?”

“Legs if their back is to me, face if I can see it.”

“Good. Got the Pack to move the the big ones out to the side, so you shouldn’t have a buncha ‘lurks pile up, but they will do that in the wild.”

“Right. Okay.”

“Take the first shot.”

Cherry took a deep breath to steady herself. She made sure that the sights were directly on the face of the Nukalurk that was investigating the meat they’d thrown into the pit when they got there. 

The shot echoed through the room, reverberating back to the pair high above the now panicked animal.

“Clean shot, but these fucks are sturdy. They’ll keep going a for a bit after you hit.”

Cherry nodded and kept an eye on the way it moved below them. Glowing neon blood pooled under it as it moved in circles, trying to find whatever had hurt it.

Cherry lined up another shot, this time aiming for the legs.

“Go.”

Cherry fired and watched the Nukalurk crumple to the ground in a mass of shell and chitinous limbs.

It wasn’t much different from how a roach took a while to die no matter how swift a death you tried to give it. It curled into itself, limbs twitching wildly.
When they went down to collect the body, it was larger than Cherry had thought possible for a crustacean, though she vaguely remembered fun facts that said they’d get bigger and bigger so long as they stayed alive, until their shells no longer shed to accommodate the changes.

Between Cherry and Gage, it took a while to drag it all the way through the Gaunlet and to the light where Cherry was able to more easily take a look at how it worked.

She field dressed it, scraping meat into washed out bins that some traders had donated. According to them, some communities actually domesticated mirelurks to keep caps running through their towns since mirelurks reached maturity within a month of hatching.

“Would the carapace make decent armor, do you think?”

“Maybe, but we don’t exactly got time to experiment, boss.”

Cherry pursed her lips.

“No, but there has to be someone who does. Do the Operators have anyone that can take look into plans on this?”

“Lizzie Wyath, probably. She’s the uh… local mad scientist, I guess you’d call her. Though I’m pretty sure she works more with chemistry shit than stuff like this.”

Cherry nodded and felt her frown deepen. She still needed to learn everyone worth knowing. But, that was a problem for later. 

“I want to look into penning some of these. There’s some good money to be made from this. It’ll help when we get out there.”

“You got an eye for business or something?”

“Not exactly. I just… a lot of organized crime and a lot of… lessons I picked up.”

“Had a touch of everything in your life, huh?”

Cherry shrugged and stood up from her work.

“It came with the territory. Law in Boston during a war? It was hell. Doesn’t matter. The point is, I know what I’m doing for the most part. We need as many footholds as possible, legitimate and not.”

“Couldn’t agree more. Now, I got some notes for you and I need some feedback on that gun so we can make some modifications to it.”

As they walked back to the main gate, sealed boxes of meat piled onto a makeshift sled that they took turns pulling, Cherry ran through the ways that the gun had felt awkward.

A trio of traders saw them and were gesturing to the sled from the entrance. Some of the Pack were stopping them from passing through.

“Hey, assholes,” Cherry yelled out, making the bright painted Pack members turn their guns from the traders to her before they quickly put them down. “Get someone over here before I make someone get over here!”

They looked to each other and nodded their heads to the traders to come to her. The three of them grabbed some of the spare rope to tie around the treads and helped pull the sled up to the entrance a lot quicker than she thought it would have been when they started.

“There should be enough here to get canned and sold off for a good amount,” Cherry murmured. “Take it over to Miss Plummer. She should know how to get that done so we can sell it off.”

“Yes, boss.”

“And who should I talk to for establishing some farm land out here?”

“Oh… well there’s no one running anything specific now.”

“Alright then.”

Another problem for the list.

“We can figure something out for that, boss. I think Erin did some work on a farm for a while.”

“You’ll need more than just ‘some work on a farm,’” Gage said with a sneer, “if they don’t know what they’re doing, then they’ll fuck up the soil and we’ll all be shit out of luck.”

Cherry stared at him as they came up to the entrance. 

“I know random shit too.”

“Fair enough.”

They spent the afternoon modifying the gun until it was completely comfortable to hold.  The cleaning drills and subsequent reconstruction were rougher on her because it was an almost endless cycle interrupted only once by a bathroom trip. The sun couldn’t have gone down sooner.

“Isn’t three and a half hours long enough?”

“If you can whine, you can do another round.”

“Nope. No. I’m cashing in my ‘I’m the boss’ card. I’m tired.”

“Well either you get very fuckin’ familiar with this gun or you gotta get okay with explosions a lot faster.”

“One. And then I’m going to bed.”

Gage chuckled. 

“This is all real funny for you, huh?”

“Hilarious. Best thing I’ve seen in a while.”

Cherry threw a screw at him. He batted it out of the air with his palm and then pointed to where it rolled under a counter.

“Are you serious?”

“I ain’t getting it, and like hell you’re gonna go out with a gun missing anything.”

“A lesser woman would have cut you by now,” Cherry said standing up from the workbench.

“Lesser women have tried. Men too. Lot of lesser people, y’know, in general.”

She kicked at the leg of his chair with a half-hearted thump before laying onto the floor and swiping a hand back and forth as far as she could get it.

“Anything fun to show for it?”

“Some scars, some bodies.”

Cherry laughed and slid her hand under the counter, pulling the screw out and holding it up triumphantly.

“You really have a list of spurned lovers that have tried to kill you?”

“Eh. Lovers is too strong a term for what a lot of raiders get. Besides, it ain’t just some quick alley fucks that have tried to kill me. Gimme some credit, boss.”

Cherry snorted. “You’d think that getting higher up on the ladder would get you more - I dunno - just more.”

“Oh it gets you more alright. More headaches and looking over your shoulder. Especially when you’re following orders from a lazy bastard.”

“Unfortunate. I don’t even get to experience the good life side of this.”

“Once we take this place, you will. At least you’ll get everyone off your back long enough for us to go into the Commonwealth.”

“What do you mean?”

Gage held up a piece of paper with hurried and scrawling handwriting.

“Came in today with one of the caravans. One of my guys passed it on when you were talking with the traders.”

“And you’ve just been sitting on it?”

“You think you could have read this? Nah. I was trying to decipher this bullshit. Apparently, they’ve found that detective out of Diamond City. They got the assistant to tell them where he had gone last and busted him out of some Vault. They stopped over in Diamond City so he could check back in, but they should have him here by the time we get back from this next park.”

Cherry had stopped putting the gun back together. Before she processed what she was doing, she’d thrown her arms around Porter’s neck. 

“Thank you.”

“Don’t start getting soft on me again.”

“Seriously. I… I don’t know what I would have done about all of this without your help, Porter.”

He pulled her away, not unkindly.

“Something tells me, you would have found something. Hell, you haven’t died yet, and we’ve thrown some of the worst the Commonwealth has to offer at you.”

Ten days.

She’d taken two parks in under ten days. It was the first day of November, and on some level, she’d felt like no progress had been made. But how much longer would everything have taken if she hadn’t just picked a direction when she crawled out of the Vault?

According to what she’d been told, things were worse the further south you went, so of all the directions she could have picked, it had been, by far the worst. But she was still standing. Sure, there were some new scars and definite moral slides happening. She was alive though. And someone who could help her was by her side. And someone else was on the way.

She was infinitely closer to finding Shaun. She could feel it with each screw she turned as she finished her last cleaning drill of her new rifle.

With it and the knife in her belt, she would make her missing son the world’s problem, so help her.

Chapter Text

Hordes were much, much worse than just the one small bastard. In fact, there wasn’t much of a good way at them that didn’t require being on the ground shanking at the inner meat of the Nukalurks or being an incredible shot. Cherry was good at neither of these in a way that wouldn’t get either her or Gage killed. Gage was less than enthusiastic about letting Cherry out of a twenty foot radius from him.

Which is how they were now outside the main building, breathing heavily as they leaned against the plaster wall, five Nukalurk corpses hoisted off to the side and drying in the bright sun.

“Okay, we can’t keep doing it this way.” Cherry sucked in another lungful of air. “There’s definitely more further down the tracks.”

“No shit. But this is what’s effective right now.”

Taking care of the hatchlings was as easy as taking a step. So long as nothing got under them, they didn’t pose too much of a problem. Some of the eggs had even stayed fully intact when they passed the first clutch, which would help out with the breeding and domestication idea.

But the full grown ones were only easy if you outnumbered them. And easy was a more… relative and hopeful term. More like you could distract it with a blow from one side before it could get you with the pincers and then the other could do the same, making the Nukalurk constantly try to turn to face the new attacker.

“Next park is definitely going to have at least one person from each gang with us. This is bullshit.”

Gage laughed hollowly and looked to the sky.

“They might go for it, each of them having new territory now and all. Won’t send us their best, but it would be better than this.”

“I mean, if you could make it work with someone as green as me…” Cherry trailed off.

There was a skittering from the tunnel and Cherry groaned as she lifted her rifle to her shoulder. Gage moved to the other side of the river - much more open with the wide expanse of wasteland behind him - and made ready to crack open the shell with the sledgehammer they’d kept at the entrance.

Cherry did, in fact, know enough about basic gun safety so as to not point the barrel at the oversized crab while Gage was in the vicinity. This was largely why Gage had been so winded from the last Nukalurk they’d taken down. Cherry had made him swear to duck behind the corner of the building to avoid any accidental bullet ricochet or early trigger pull.

Of course that meant that Cherry was out of his sight during that moment, and it wasn’t entirely reassuring how much she was depending on his presence to not crumble into a mess at the sheer horror of a Nukalurk turning its full attention on her.

The Nukalurk came through, and Gage brought the hammer down with a loud crack as the shell shattered inward and embedded into the flesh beneath.

Luckily, this wouldn’t affect the meat too much since the shards were large enough to pull out with bare hands.

Gage ducked behind the corner, Cherry lined up the shot as the Nukalurk reeled backwards to strike, and the gun rang out with an echo through the wastes once, twice, thrice.

The newest addition to the rations fell in a heap on the submerged tracks.

Cherry was valiant in her attempts to not think about the water she was wading through, sticky with watered down soda and reeking of a stagnant pool clotted with algae and decaying hatchlings. Altogether, she was proud of herself for holding out this long to puke her guts out into the river.

“You know, boss,” Gage said as he started pulling the beast over and onto his side of the river, “gotta say, I was expecting that sooner.”

“Fuck you.”

“Just sayin’. This place is gonna be hauntin’ me in my sleep with this stench. You and your delicate sensibilities-”

Cherry dipped a hand in the water and hurled the water at him.

He dropped the body and jumped backwards.

“You’re the one avoiding the water, Gage.”

“No, last I checked, I’m the one swinging a thirty-something pound spiked hammer, so how about you be nice, huh?”

Cherry snorted through her tired smile and wiped her hand on her dingy green jumpsuit. Two hundred years be damned, a good and sturdy mechanic’s jumpsuit held up nicely out in the world. 

“Okay. We take a break to eat and then head back in for another round?”

“Sounds good to me. Though in all honesty, I’m not sure how much deeper we can get without backup. We’ve barely made a dent in this place, and it’s been three hours.”

“We can always try going around the back and then working in that way?”

Gage scrunched up his face like Cherry had told him he was having boiled spinach for dinner. He sat heavily on the ledge and caught the lunchbox she tossed him.

“Honestly, boss,” he said around a sigh, “I don’t like this plan period. We got lucky with the first two parks. The ghouls don’t do long term damage and those bloodbugs could only bite so much off. This,” he gestured with a floppy sandwich to the building at large, “we can lose more than a finger doing this.”

“So what? We go to Mags and say, ‘Sorry about this, but we do need some cannon fodder. Unlike the other parks, this one is more rough on the limbs.’ I don’t think she’ll go for it.”

“No… but there might be a two birds, one stone situation here.”

He grinned that spine tingling smile and thoughtfully took a bite.

A few potshots at the Gunners and a quick slip into a locked door made short work of nearly the entire ride area. Gage and Cherry had kept stone still once they were on the other side of the door, pressing their backs firmly to it and their asses to the ground.

Once the gunshots and explosions died down. Cherry let out an exhale and smiled wanly at Gage who shook his head slowly.

No sounds echoed through the tunnel. Even the PA had stopped repeating the scattered messages from people tripping the sensors that were somehow still functioning and still just as grating.

It was nearly a full ten minutes before Gage finally nodded and stood.

“Time to clear the back halls, boss.”

“What are the likelihood of more Nukalurks through here?”

“Not very. Less wet and habitable to them. Coulda sworn I heard bots though. That electricity that filled the air earlier?”

Thinking back, Cherry couldn’t say that she had heard anything like that, but she wasn’t looking for it.

“I can hack anything basic. Though I imagine Nuka-World had some proprietary software that would make it a little harder.”

“Jack of all trades,” Gage muttered as he inched to the doorway leading to the rest of the employee only section.

Gage was right about the lack of Nukalurks. As they moved through the halls, nothing but turrets greeted them. And even those were slow to react with the sensors covered in grime. Any Gunners who had come through had either left or were dead. From what they could see when they rounded back down an hour after the initial sweep, no Nukalurks moved either.

But there was a dull thunk-scrape thunk-scrape every so often, always out of sight. Gage had taken to whispering if he had to speak, but mostly gesturing with the signals he’d taught her for when they were in a pinch or separated but had eyes on each other.

Thunk-scrape from the floor below them.

Thunk-scrape

Cherry quietly lost her breath. She’d seen videos of them. She’d even seen a demonstration once at a RobCo rally, albeit from a distance. War effort pamphlets had shown them proudly marching side by side human soldiers on an unidentifiable battlefield.
The assaultron was moving with a limp, its left leg mangled but serviceable enough to get around. The scraping noise was worse this close. Nails on a chalkboard was nothing in comparison to the way metal etched into metal and then repeated just after your brain ejected the sound.

Cherry opened her mouth to whisper, but Gage’s eye widened in alarm, so she shut it quickly. Neither of them moved as the robot passed on to the other room. When the cadence of its steps faded entirely, his shoulders didn’t relax so much as tilt slightly forward in relief.

“I can’t hack that. No fucking way.”

The whisper was harsh on the cold hanging walkway.

“I think we’d be able to take it if we don’t give it time to repair.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“If its wanderin’ around here instead of goin’ back to camp, then we have to deal with it.” Gage’s brows furrowed as he spoke. Cherry could see the gears turning rapidly as he thought through the problem.

“What are the best ways to take them down?”

“Tactically? Throw bomb and haul ass.”

“Okay… one leg is busted. If we take out the other, it would fall over, which means it wouldn’t be able to hit us with the laser if we can stay above it, right?”

“Yeah, but that would mean we can reliably take out the legs.”

“There’s lots of stuff we’ve passed that we can use to rig up a trap. A trip wire and a well placed mine could do it.”

“But that only works if you can keep your head here, boss.”

“I think I can manage it if I know when the explosions are coming. And its hard not to hear that thing. Also there were all the ones earlier, so I think it’s seeing them that makes me check out.”

“If you’re sure, boss.”

“I’m not sure about jack shit. But I know that we can’t turn over a park with a rogue bot as a roommate.”

“Fair enough. Can you prep the trap?”

“Yeah. If it’s doing rounds on the bottom floor, then there’s some time before it comes back. But if its wandering the whole building, we’re going to need to move.”

Gage looked around with a grimace as the scrape returned to earshot.

It was definitely a different sound now.

It was a nasty thunk-scrapeclack-scrapeclack-scrapeclack thunk-scrapeclack-scrapeclack-scrapeclack now.

It was somewhere on the walkway. Still far enough off that they could make it if they picked a direction.

Sadly, that was the opposite of where Cherry had been hoping. The turrets would have been a great place to lure the bot to after some reprogramming. The PipBoy was pretty handy in what it had built in.

“Back downstairs. We’ll circle around and make a bottleneck.”

There must have been something else that had busted on the assaultron because it didn’t seem to pick up their movements or sound as they quickly crossed into the stairwell and into a small area tucked under the cement steps.

Cherry got to work with some wire that she’d spooled in their first walk-through and the memory of the setups she’d seen for the traps in the Gauntlet. Meanwhile, Gage kept guard from the corner, occasionally leaning out to scan the area in direct line of sight.

“After this, Gage, I swear to anything holy that’s left, I’m taking my happy ass to bed and going for a light coma.”

She hadn’t done more than a surface level inventory of her body, but the time of only vague aching was a glimmer in her eye in comparison to the constant thrum of her pulse in the last week. Between the scattered bloodbug bites along her left arm that were starting to fade thanks to the stimpaks and the bruises that blossomed all over her legs and belly, things were less than ideal in the Ouch Mitigation Department.

“I’m going to just sleep away a day at least. I’m fucking exhausted.”

“I hear you, boss. We get through this bullshit, we’ll have enough space to breathe. Maybe take some time to get actual crews together for the last two parks.”

“It’ll be better to do it that way in the long run. That way it’s something everyone had a hand in.”

A pause as a splash echoed down the tunnel to the gaping hole in the wall that was meant to be the bottleneck.

“That thing ready yet?”

“No. Reminder that I’m doing this entirely by hand and no power tools.”

Gage raised his gun to the tunnel opening, keeping an angle just right enough to let him duck back into the safety of the alcove at the last second.

“We need to wait another round for it to pass?”

“That would be the safest option.”

“We don’t know it won’t check this spot out, boss. Either we risk it so you can keep working or pack it up and do another lap.”

Cherry bit her lip and looked up from her spot of concrete cleared of rubble. Gage kept his face turned toward the direction of the threat that slowly approached them.

“If you can get the mine set up to set off outside this room, we can manage it and use this spot as cover.”

“And if I can’t?”

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get there.”

Without a word, he slipped one hand behind his back palm open. Cherry placed the mine carefully in the center, knowing it was disarmed but still paranoid. Then she continued with lacing the wire through the pins of the handful of grenades Gage had brought.

The bouquets weren’t as good of an option in this particular circumstance, but there was an idea to it that was somewhat useful. If she could run one end of the wire under the tracks, then the grenades would be stuck in that spot. The pair had already confirmed that the space was narrow enough that she wouldn’t just pull the grenades all the way back to them.

The problem was more in that there was a chance that the pins wouldn’t actually be pulled. Even has steadfast as her knots were - and she had always been proud of her skills where that was concerned - there was a worry that the wire may give or that the pins were fused to the rest.

“Gage?” Cherry asked in a voice so small, she wasn’t sure it had actually escaped.

“What’s up, boss?”

“Do you think that thing can run?”

“Nah. Too busted in the leg.”

“Good. Don’t put down the mine until I’m back in the room.”

Before Gage could grab her, she darted out into the tunnel.

It was a fair distance away, but the assaultron had definitely made her.

One, two, three. One, two, three.

Cherry fed the wire under the track just as the tell-tale electricity coursed through the air, making the hair on her arms and legs stand on end. She quickly grabbed the tail end of the wire with a loose grip and backed into the hole. The assualtron limped after her, but Gage was right.

It wasn’t able to run.

As soon as she was through, Gage shoved his way past her, activated the mine, and half dragged half carried Cherry to the alcove.

Splash-screech splash-screeech splash-screeeech

“Not yet.”

Cherry held the wire just short of taught.

Splash-screeeeech

Gage inhaled as he lifted the barrel of his rifle.

Cherry tightened her grip with sweaty hands.

Splash-screeeeeech

Gage gave one sharp nod.

Cherry pulled, shut her eyes tighter than she held onto the lifeline in her palms.

Her blood went cold as the world shattered around her.

Chapter Text

Gage pushed the boss into the alcove with his full weight as the chunks of concrete went flying towards them. 

“Fuck!”

The boss was kneeling on the ground, clutching a hand to the left side of her face. She was covering the wound, but the amount of blood seeping from under and between her fingers was enough for him to echo her sentiments.

He ducked back out to see the bot on the ground and dust settling over the mangled metal.

“Can you stand, boss?”

She hissed and winced as she tried and failed to get up off the ground.

“Alright. Stay here. Don’t move. Don’t so much as whisper. I’m gonna make sure that thing don’t have some juice left.”

He edged out of cover, skirting the wall as he made his way to the twisted pile in the now larger hole in the wall.

Its head was fully turned around, dipping into the water. The legs were nowhere in immediate sight, and only one arm was still attached. With a sigh, he marched to the entrance where he had left the sledgehammer and dragged it all the way back. Nothing passed his lips as he brought the spike down heavily over the torso.

“Alright. It’s all clear.”

When the boss didn’t answer, he paled. She might have passed out from the blood loss if the wound was bad enough. The head usually bled more, so that was sure as hell an option. Swearing, he went back to where she was not passed out, but instead, digging around her backpack with a deft free hand that didn’t so much as rub against the fabric.

“Didn’t I say don’t move?”

Her eye shot up to him for a brief moment, before going back to her bag.

“Nothing broken. Can’t feel any damage to the eye itself. Left shoulder dislocated. Legs fine but sore. Might need stitches before a stimpak.”

“Let me see.”

Gage knelt as he grabbed her chin and swung it up to inspect.

She sucked in a breath but moved her hand away from the deep cut above her brow and down her cheek. It was a smooth arc that would definitely need some sewing up, but she had been right. No damage to the eye.

“You’re one damn lucky sonofabitch.”

“Pretty sure that’s up for debate.”

“You’re alive and you’re not missing any body parts, pretty sure that constitutes being a lucky sonofabitch.”

The boss coughed up a sharp laugh as she pulled out the first aid kit she’d spent nearly an hour doing inventory on before they left.

“Impressive getting that out without seeing it,” he said, letting go of her face now that he was sure there was no major damage.

“It’s just organization.” She opened up the lunchbox that she’d painted thick stripes of paint down the sides of. “If I know that there’s the possibility of needing something in the dark, I want to make sure I can find it in the dark too.”

“There a method to the madness?”

She seemed to be more focused when he kept her talking.

“These help me know which box I’m grabbing.” She ran a finger over the stripes before unlatching it, unceremoniously flipping the lid open.

The inside was just as tightly packed as her bag was: just enough to slide things out, but cushioned enough to not have everything rattling around inside. It had been one of the projects that she’d spent the previous day working on.

The sides were lined in the stuffing of an old pillow that she’d bleached and sewn into the re-purposed pillowcase. All along the edges were pockets that connected to cloth compartments which in turn held every imaginable thing she’d need to field dress minor injuries. It was also where she kept the third dose of Calmex in the event that something happened to the ones that the pair now carried on their person at all times.

“The paint changes the texture of the box, so that makes it easier to get what I need.”

“Huh. Wouldn’t have thought of that.”

“I don’t know when it started, but I used to have this thing about making sure I could completely move around my house in the dark. For as long as I can remember, I would spend a random day blindfolded or blackout the windows in my bedroom. The skill came in handy when we were hiking.”

While she spoke, she went to work removing what she needed from pockets and placing them in the cleared out center area of the box.

“Alright, Porter. I’m going to need you to do this part. I’ll need to add a mirror to this at some point.”

“Woah. You sure about this? Here?”

She was looking him full in the face, her blood dripping off her chin. Her blood covered hand grabbed the one he’d held her chin with and moved it to the bottle of vodka he hadn’t seen her pull out.

“Don’t touch the actual cut with the alcohol. Wash your hands with it first. Use the lighter to  heat the needle before you start to sew. I already attached it to the thread, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

“It ain’t gonna look pretty, boss.”

“I don’t care. At this point, I’m pretty much positive that the left side of my face is just the side that’s going to look like shit anyways.”

He glanced at the healed over scars that crawled into the deep red, breaking the sideburns with thick white streaks nearly as thick as a pencil. The new addition wouldn’t be as thick, but it was definitely prominent as it sliced from just a finger below the hair tied back in a tight bun all the way down to her jaw.

“Any idea what caused the cut? Need to know if we’re going to a doctor right the fuck now or in the morning.”

“Based on how quick it was? Fuck if I know.”

Gage swore under his breath and got to work rubbing the vodka over his hands. Cherry took a breath, and held a hand out for the bottle. With an almost practiced ease, she splashed some of it onto her tongue without touching the bottle to her lips. The hiss of air through her teeth seemed more about the sudden movement of her shoulder than about the straight alcohol.

“Alright. Gonna need better lighting than this and for you to lean against the wall.”

She turned a dial on her Pipboy and lit up the corner with light that reflected off of the concrete, effectively giving him the same light of a cloudless noon coming from all directions. With a shuddering exhale, she moved from her kneel to a crouch and then flopped backward onto her ass.

There was nothing even close to the poise she showed in front of the bosses and even sometimes him when she was putting on a front. Instead, she scooted herself slowly to the wall and rolled her neck before leaning the back of her head against the wall.

“Hey, Porter?”

“Yeah?”

“Think you can live with stabbing me instead of shooting me?”

The bark of a laugh pulled itself from his gut.

“I think I’ll manage. Now shut up so we can get this taken care of.”

Gage had never been particularly good at fiddling with machines or picking locks, but he knew how to sew something shut. The tools that Cherry had set aside were more than he had used before.

Spools of thread sat in a jar, each in small plastic pouches, hand sterilized the day before. A bottle of water, a small pair of scissors, a set of forceps, and even a pair of those things that weren’t scissors that he’d seen doctors use to hold the needle while they gave someone stitches. He gingerly lifted the first aid kit and moved in closer to where Cherry was evening out her breath.

“Alright. I’m ready for you to wash out the cut.”

Gage reached for the vodka, but the soft, “water first” from Cherry switched the track he was running on.

“I’ll talk you through the extra steps. We should be able to get them done decently enough that the doctor won’t have to do any major corrections when we get there.”

“Fair enough. Water first.”

“Take one of those clean rags in the milk bottle and put some of the water on there to wipe up any excess. You’re going to use the rest to flush any debris out of the cut.”

Gage followed the instructions, unclear which role it was that she was taking as she stared up at the ceiling, controlling the tick of her jaw when the water poured over the left half of her face.

“You talk someone through sewing you up before?”

“Twice.”

Gage huffed in something that wasn’t approval, more of a cousin to impressed. 

“Alright, next is the alcohol. Around the cut, not on it.”

He obeyed, careful to avoid touching the red gash.

“How many times have you given someone stitches?”

“Lost count years ago, boss.”

“Good. I don’t need to go over basics aside from sterilization then?”

“Could do without all the extra.”

“Trust me, we don’t need me getting an infection now.”

Gage nodded once before straddling the boss and tilting her head so that the wound was facing the ceiling instead of her eyes. One part in the far back of his mind noted the way she tensed and then immediately relaxed into his hand with the action.

He was able to ignore the closeness of her easily, given the circumstances.

He’d done pretty good at keeping his distance from her in general, but especially so after  their talk the other day. The joking helped. He didn’t want to be cold exactly. He was positive that she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, so it didn’t do any good to have that kind of wall up. He wasn’t keen on the relationship being entirely based in anything close to friendship, that had been where his mistake with Colter had started - he’d let Colter think that they were friends before they were the face and the mover.

From what he could tell there wasn’t a concern with the boss wanting to be friends. It was more like she had latched onto him since he had been the first person to help her out since she came out of the fridge. He wasn’t one to complain about a competent person to run around, that was for damn sure.

She held the scream in behind teeth that clamped down on lips as he moved the needle into the skin using the not-scissors in the same way that the doctors had done when he’d been able to get his lacerations done up professionally.

“Don’t let yourself break skin in your mouth too,” he grunted, making sure to keep the loop of the thread toward him so he could secure the stitch as he continued. The bottom half would probably need seven stitches, the upper would probably be alright with just three, but forehead ones were trickier for him.

“Alright, gonna start the next one.”

The boss moved her lips out from between her teeth, instead opting to visibly clench her teeth.

Her instruction to go was muted from the lack of shaping out the word.

Again, she held in the scream. Again when he finished the stitch, he gave her the warning before starting the next.

When all was done and she was breathing hard, holding back the tears of pain, Gage tied and snipped the thread.

“Alright. Let’s get you to the doc.”

Cherry gave a nod as Gage jabbed her with the stimpak. Her eyes glazed over as the healing started.

“Left shoulder?”

Another nod.

“Alright. This is gonna hurt a little less now.”

This time the scream burst from her chest as he started moving her arm in small circles to get the shoulder back into place. The scream died near immediately as she reigned back in her self control.

“Give a bitch some warning next time!”

Gage snorted as he let go of her arm.

“I’ll take your bag too. We should be able to get back before the sun goes down.”

“We haven’t checked out the rest of the plant. There’s still the back area.”

“Look. I’d sooner bet on a snowball in hell before your chances of taking on even a half dead mirelurk the way you’re looking right now.”

Her nose scrunched up as she rolled her eyes.

“You’ll fuck up your stitches if you pull faces.”

“I’ll pull your face into my knee,” she grumbled, reaching for her bag.

“I said I’ll take it. You’ve got a fucked up shoulder on top of your face looking like something the Pack put together. You focus on putting your feet in front of each other until we get back to Nuka-Town.”

There was a hush as Gage and the boss stepped back into the park without the flag having gone up. Some traders rushed to her side, but Cherry held up a hand.

“Take the bags to Pins and Needles. Tell them that I said they need to do inventory.”

“On it, boss,” said one of the women as she close to fearlessly held her hands out for Gage to pass over the bags.

He kept his face blank as he slid the straps off his shoulders. As soon as the fabric touched her hands, the woman was off like a shot to Fizztop Grill.

The rag that served as the bandage over the boss’ face hadn’t soaked any blood, so Gage was confident that at the very least, he’d closed it well. Infection was an entirely different concern.

Gage couldn’t deny the swell of that cousin of impressed came back around. The boss held her head high as she walked to the new surgeon station where the doc was set up with what the boss had approved as a sealed enough area to safely perform surgery.

Though he hadn’t liked the thought of the doctor not having someone posted on her like there had been at the Market, he had to admit that the space made sense.

As the doc looked her over, she nodded to Gage with hard eyes and tended to the boss.

“The sutures will hold. You used nylon, so there’s a fairly low risk of infection. So long as you keep this covered up, I can remove these in less than a week.”

“Will I be able to go back out there if I cover up?”

“Technically, yes, but that would be if you only did long distance fighting. With the pace you’ve been keeping, I wouldn’t recommend it at all. I expect that-”

The door burst open. Mags seemed as surprised to find the boss in a chair as she was to be on the other end of Gage’s gun. He scowled and put the muzzle down.

“Knock next time, huh?”

Mags frowned at him and then turned to the doc.

“Can you excuse us for a moment?”

The doctor nodded and left the room to wait outside in the setting sun.

“What happened?”

“Assaultron,” the boss said simply, leaning back in her chair.

Her ability to act like she wasn’t in pain bordered on fool-hardy, but with the bandage off, there wasn’t a chance of Mags thinking the boss was bullshitting.

“We got the inside cleared,” the boss continued, “but I’m betting that there’s more mirelurk nests out back.”

Mags pursed her lips and gave the boss a once over before turning to Gage and giving him the same treatment.

“I can get some scouts out there.”

“Actually, I think that we should give it another day before we send someone out there.”

The smirk that curled across the right side of the boss’ face rivaled a cat about to have the best meal of its life. For the first time, Gage wondered how much was an act when she was talking with the bosses. She leaned forward as she stood up and clapped her hands together.

“We made a call out to the Gunners before we left. We’re going to let them blow some of their cavalry on those nests before we finish cleaning house.”

The kids sat on the ground as Cherry talked them through how to make a hammock like hers. They were slow, clumsy, as their hands crossed over themselves turning rope into net.

Gage leaned against the window by the lift as he lit his second cigarette.

He knew that making the boss rest was the best option. Radioing the Gunners hadn’t even been too much of a hustle since the boss seemed to know all the terms to use to get them to radio back with confirmation that they would take the now empty building. They didn’t need to know that while the building was technically cleared, the only way that they could get in now was more than fucked.

The boss had put the grenade in his hand and started walking away as she called out to blow the river entrance. They had agreed that it posed too much of a threat for it to stay usable when there were perfectly good and dry places to enter instead. Besides, if Nukalurks got back in after they had already cleared out, it would be a pain to do again.

He watched idly when Cherry sent the kids back downstairs to sleep.

“You should get sleep too,” she said with that soft voice she had when it was just them and there wasn’t a job to do.

“Doc said you would need someone to watch you for the first forty-eight hours. Figure that’s my job for the time you’re sleepin’.”

She let out a wry chuckle and moved over to the open air behind him. She leaned against the railing and smiled into the breeze that lifted her hair off her shoulders.

“I didn’t panic from the explosives.”

Gage didn’t know what to say, so he just puffed on his cigarette and let the smoke float out into the world.

“If Mags sends a crew out in two days to assess the situation, what do you think the odds are that they come back unharmed?”

“Pretty high, all things considered. Unless they get too close to trouble, they can scout and be back same day.”

Cherry nodded.

“When the detective gets here,” he hesitated, “do you wanna head out right away or heal up first?”

She sighed and looked at him over her right shoulder since the bandage was back and covering her line of sight.

“What do you think?”

She was in an oversized shirt and a pair of pajama pants that made her look like she wasn’t anything more than a woman who would roll over in a fight. Her hair was a mess; the dark under her eyes made her look haggard; she was even barefoot as she tested her weight before leaning further forward over the edge to look up at the stars above them.

Gage moved out to the other side of the ledge so they were beside each other without actually being beside each other. His bad eye was to her, hers to his.

“Whatever you want, boss. We can make either option work.”

That same cousin of a feeling welled as she said something that made him clearly identify the feeling.

“I might move into the inside of the grill. The cold is starting to really sink in.”

With the knowledge that she couldn’t see without moving and the wood creaking under her, he let the smile briefly pass over his mouth before settling it back around his cigarette.

He was getting goddamn fond of the woman.

Chapter Text

Between Gage smoothing things over with the Operators and Cherry’s idea to trick the Gunners into doing the legwork of clearing the bottle plant’s perimeter, Mags wasn’t terribly upset by the delay in claiming her park. Especially when it turned out that there was a two-story-tall Nukalurk Queen’s corpse in the center of a fresh crater of rubble.

The scouts that had gone out returned with reports of over two dozen Gunners dead and a scattering of Nukalurks throughout the scaffolding. A larger crew had gone out the next day, cleared it, and hoisted their flag.

There didn’t seem to be any hard feelings in the three days after Cherry and Gage’s return. The Overboss had bled for them in a way so visible that no one could deny her dedication. Hisses had transformed into cheers, condescension into shit-eating grins.

All the while, Cherry alternated between sleeping in the stove-warmed kitchen to heal up and overseeing the work on the Market. The only exception was a new deal being struck with Cherry and the bosses in the downtime that Cherry was forced into.

They all sat in their chairs and couches, Cherry at the head with her back to the wall and Gage just a step behind. There was another face that would join them later, Shank, when the plans were no longer in a state of unending draft.

“We’re going to need funds to make sure we can easily get through the Commonwealth without too much issue for our scouts,” Cherry had said, legs crossed at the ankles as she sipped on her water. “I want to start sending them out next week so we can get up to date information on centralized locations to use as main bases.”

“Tribute not enough?” Mason growled.

“This isn’t for me. This is for the gangs. We’re going to start a coffer specifically for the large part of mobilization. I’ve trusted you to get your people into shape, but there’s things that I’m largely responsible for in making sure that we lose as little people as possible to base idiocy.”

“Like what, exactly?” Mags, looking as aloof as Cherry was trying to be.

“Starving to death, needing somewhere safe to stay between charting things out. I don’t want any hints getting out of what’s about to happen. The people we’re sending out need to be able to blend in with where they’re going. I want them to be drifters in the minds of everyone they meet.”

“That’s going to be a tough pull, boss.”

“It’s necessary. If anyone gets chances to plan a defense, that’s information we won’t have. I want to know about the places we’re taking and local threats. When we head out, I want to know for an absolute fact that we’re setting up in places that will let our people thrive. No more of this cramped bullshit.”

“That’s all well and good,” Nisha said sighing into the ceiling, “but you expect us to round up anyone inconspicuous in this place?”

“If you can’t, I will.”

All three leaders looked to Cherry with incredulity.

“You think I haven’t been looking around at who’s competent at deescalation around here? Despite everything, there’s some people here who are pretty good at keeping the peace. Of course, I can’t speak to their skills in a fight, but the diplomacy is worth something at this stage.”

Gage spoke up from his patch of wall where he leaned in a mock-lazy way, “Information’s always good to have. The boss in right about that. We get the funds to make that part happen as quiet as possible, no one’ll know what hit ‘em when we really get out there to do damage.”

“So what exactly is the plan for money making, boss?” Mason with the itch in his voice for something, anything to happen.

“The traders have been making money from the extra work they’re doing for Miss Plummer. We’re going to let them buy their freedom. Or the freedom of someone else. I’ve already looked over the math. We set the price for that at two thousand caps. Gage can keep the books for it in the cases of people paying over time.”

Cherry held up a hand at the mouths ready to argue.

“They won’t be going anywhere in the long run. In fact, I’ve got the lead personalities wrapped around my finger. What they’re paying for is to lose their collars. They and anyone not affiliated with a gang can take up room at Safari Adventure once we claim that. I’ve had my eye on Nuka-Galaxy as our neutral ground since it seems to have more internal structures.”

Really it was that Cherry knew that there was a zoo aspect to the park, though she had never been there. The cages could serve as fairly solid bases to start putting up houses that wouldn’t fall apart, though it would likely be a bit cramped at first.

“What they’re gonna keep the Market running out of their bleeding hearts?” Mags asked.

“Of course.” It was a simple answer. Not condescending, just matter of fact. “They don’t know how else to make a living. Most of them love this place. They’ll see me as someone who would fight for them, and once they buy their ‘freedom’, they’ll be under my protection. They’ll keep working the Market. And not all of them will be able to pay out the money all at once, so there won’t be a shortage.”

Because Cherry had already talked to Chip. There was a priority list. The sick, young, and old would be the first to get their freedom. For the short term while there was nowhere to go, they would keep to the makeshift housing in the dilapidated buildings around Nuka-Town.

Gage had been the one to work it out. Nearly everyone could be free within a month of today at the going rate that Cherry had set, but the more likely was two months. Raiders didn’t have long memory, but that would be even easier to finagle with majority of the raiders spread throughout the Commonwealth.

Chip had all but cried when the proposal was made. It was the only safe way that Cherry could think of to make sure that there was no target on her or the traders’ back.

“You’ve mentioned that before.” Nisha. Always Nisha. “Like those children of yours. ‘Under your protection.’”

Cherry leaned forward.

“Something on your mind, Nisha?”

“I just think it’s interesting that you think you’ve got some kind of pull after so short a time.”

Cherry’s smile was tight and sharp as she stood, slowly. It was only three steps to Nisha’s seat. There was no suddenness to Cherry’s moves as she reached down to Nisha’s belt and wrapped a hand around the hilt of the blade that hung there. Nisha to her credit, didn’t flinch.

Cherry drew the knife, appraising the craftsmanship.

“You know, I think I’d like one of these next time I go out, Gage. These look like they could really take someone’s eye out.”

She didn’t miss the way the air turned sour around her.

“Sure thing, boss.”

“Last I checked, Nisha, you sat here just as sedentary as Colter for the last year. I was only here how long before I took the first park?”

No one so much as breathed.

“I asked a question, Nisha.”

Cherry pressed the flat of the blade into Nisha’s thigh.

“Less than a week.”

“’Less than a week’ what?”

“Boss.”

“Right. And then I took the next. And the only reason I wasn’t the one who raised the next flag was because I was bleeding out. Even then, I didn’t just walk away, did I? No. I took care of another problem that has been sitting here for too goddamn long.”

Cherry bordered on saccharine as she smiled. Everything about her posture was as serene as she could make it, but she was tired of this song and dance.

“Mags?”

“Yes, boss?” Cool and calm.

“How many assaultrons did your crew find inside?”

“Six.”

“How many dead Gunners, total?”

“Thirty-four.”

“So, Nisha, tell me something,” the blade lifted from the thigh and slid back into the sheath. Cherry put her hands on the chair’s arms so she could lean in, caging Nisha into her space. “Tell me what your plan was to deal with the Gunners. Capture a couple here and there to blood them? Or did you think that the others would deal with the problem of a militarized gang on our doorstep? I have plans for the Disciples. I have expectations for the Disciples. There is very little room for disappointment in those plans and expectations.”

“Yes, boss.”

It clicked in that moment that while the bosses around her were terrifying in their own right, she still had something that they didn’t. She could sway a courtroom with all the words she had at her disposal.

“I’m a big fan of your work. Yours and the Disciples. I have an inkling that the person I’m looking for, the one who took something very important to me, is organized, not some loner. I don’t want the fear of God in him. I want the fear of something tangible. I want him and the people he works for to know what it’s like to know that there is no space for peace or hope and that he’s being kept alive so that he can give me everything there is to him.”

Nisha exhaled as Cherry released her from her cage.

“That man, when I drag him here, is to stay alive. And I want the Disciples to be the ones to make sure that happens. I don’t want a day to pass where he isn’t suffering the way he wanted me to suffer. But if I can’t trust that giving you this gift is going to be honored, then I suppose you can keep sitting around, and I’ll pass that work off to someone less qualified when that comes.”

Cherry turned and moved back to her seat, not bothering to take in the bosses’ reactions. They were in charge of their groups, but Cherry was running all of them. Sure, she was playing all of them, but she was still the one in the center of the ring.

As she sat, she was suddenly aware of the authority she was wielding. She had taken in her new look in the mirror that morning.

The kids had finished her armor. Sturdy leather armor studded with thick, short machine screws that would allow Cherry to do damage when she was unarmed. Pins had picked out a dark leather and dyed thick swirling red stripes into it then painted thin white circles like bubbles rising through fizzing soda. Needles had made the statement piece: a long red coat made from the repurposed leather seats of the chairs that had previously been a pile of furniture Colter had left lying around. The inner coat was done up in soft flannel, and white piping lined the hems and edges of the pockets, but the bottom hem was weighted slightly with steel chain slid through the piping that could be easily removed from a velcroed opening in an emergency.  Reinforcement had been added to the shoulders with the same armor Pins had worked on, but instead of the studs poking through all the leather, loops had been added to allow for Cherry to secure bandoliers to either shoulder.

With the new clothes and the gifts of homemade makeup from some Pack raiders, even Gage had admitted that she cut an intimidating silhouette now. It wasn’t just about looking the part. There was something to clothes making the man. Tying her hair back had always meant getting to work. Jumpsuits were for labor. But now, with her hair crashing in waves against her shoulders, done up in her armor and dark eye makeup, she felt like she was capable of doing all the things she’d done in the past month all over again.

It wasn’t that she suddenly wanted to be cruel; it was that she was aware now that she needed to be ruthless to get Shaun back. She knew now that there were other factions out there who could theoretically help her. But this one owed her. She had already ingratiated herself to them. No one could pull her hand away from this vice grip she had in this moment.

Cherry tapped her toe twice before crossing her legs again.

“Do I have any reason not to keep all three of you around? I didn’t think turning this place around would be me all by lonesome.”

Mason relaxed into his seat as he replied, “I stand  with you, and that means the Pack stands with you.”

“You’ve proven yourself to be a good hand at business,” Mags nodded thoughtfully. “The Operators will make sure that business thrives.”

Cherry turned her eyes to Nisha.

“You’re serious about turning this place around?”

“I wouldn’t still be here if I wasn’t. I could have run on the first night. Hell, I’ve had enough close calls at this point that I could have just faked my death and not come back. But here I am, keeping you all in on what my plans are for making this a place that isn’t just a fortress.”

“I won’t deny that. You’ve done what Colter wouldn’t. You may not have my trust. I didn’t make it this far by trusting people. But,” Nisha said with a curling smile, “I’ll grant that you’ve earned some respect for doing what you’ve done near single-handedly. The Disciples will take care of anyone you need us to care for.”

“Good. With that, we’ll call it for today.”

The rumble from the lift descending caught everyone’s attention.

“Well, boss,” Gage said, pushing himself off of the wall and making his way to the balcony, “looks like that present of yours is a hell of a lot closer.”

Chapter Text

The lift clambered up and revealed three people to the gathering of bosses.

“All of you are dismissed. Something tells me that we’ll have another of these shortly.”

As the figures from the lift stepped onto the deck, Cherry became aware that the man in the middle was not human.

His face and neck were missing patches, and underneath, Cherry could see pipes and wires. As she took in the rough pale face, the patched duster, the cocked hat, she was overwhelmed by how… pulpy he looked. He was a color scheme and a bath away from The Silver Shroud both in how he looked and carried himself. Because even walking into a room with two guns at his back and an admittedly intimidating trio walking past him to their exit, he looked far from worried.

“Please, make yourself comfortable, Detective…?”

“Nick Valentine. And, I would,” he said with a sarcastic shrug, “but the cuffs make it a little hard to do that.”

Cherry looked over at the two men who were still hanging around. They were gangless judging from how nothing they wore marked them as even remotely Pack, Disciple, or Operator. Upon closer inspection, Cherry realized that Detective Valentine’s hands were not clasped behind his back, but rather held there with the previously mentioned handcuffs.

“Do either of you want to explain why a guest of mine was less than kindly escorted here?”

“He…” the one on the right started, “He’s a synth, Overboss.”

“And?”

“What if he exploded?”

“Would handcuffs stop him from exploding?”

“Well, no.”

Gage smacked the man on the back of the head and rolled his eye.

“Uncuff him, you asshole. And take a hike. The boss’ got business here, and you idiots ain’t part of it.”

The second man rushed to obey and nodded to Cherry before calling up the lift.

Cherry motioned to the couch across from her.

“I’m sorry for how you’ve been treated, Detective Valentine.”

As the last witnesses left, Gage unplugged the lift and posted up at his place beside her.

“Think nothing of it,” Valentine said with a wave of a spidery robotic hand. “It more odd that you’re not asking questions about this mug right off the back.”

Cherry sighed into a slump and shrugged.

“At this point, I’ve accepted that anything is likely. The only person I’ve met so far with a memory of what my life was like before all this was a glowing green stage performer. Robot hard-boiled detective is less of a leap, honestly.”

What would have been eyebrows raised in surprise.

“It’s… part of why they brought you here.”

Gage stiffened, a hand going to his gun, as the detective reached into his coat.

“Just getting a cigarette, big guy.”

A pack of cigarettes and a silver lighter slipped into sight, and Gage relaxed back into his lean.

“Quite the guard dog you’ve got there.”

Cherry smiled, soft and hopefully nonthreatening as she said, “He’s grown on me. Don’t let the rough edges fool you, he’s more than just a dog.”

“I’ll take your word for it. I gotta say, I do appreciate your men letting me go back to Diamond City before taking me captive. My assistant was less than pleased about the situation I had gotten into when they found me.”

“They had orders to be accommodatin’ to whoever they were bringin’ back,” Gage said from behind her.

Valentine nodded.

“They said you were looking for someone.”

“Yes. I…” Cherry looked up to Porter. She took a deep breath and continued, “It’s someone close to me. Someone who’s been kidnapped.”

“Don’t know who’d be stupid enough to kidnap someone from someone in charge of this place.”

“I wasn’t… at the time. This is all pretty new and more of a circumstantial situation.”

“Alright. Well when you’re trying to find someone, the devil’s in the details. Tell me everything you can, from the beginning.”

And she did. The bombs, the frantic running that was more of a haze than anything, the cryopods in the Vault. Wandering south until she ended up here. The deal with Porter to be the face. She made sure to slip in some of the more endearing goals like safely freeing the traders and left out the plans for a march on the Commonwealth.

“We’re looking for my baby, Shaun. He’s less than a year old. I don’t know why anyone would take him. Especially after I got out of the Vault.”

“Good question. It’s a lot of trouble getting into a Vault in the first place. And why an infant? Someone would be taking on all his care, and any baby has a lot of it.”

He wasn’t so much talking to Cherry as he was taking in the information. There was a genuine tinge to his voice as he pulled out a notebook and began to scribble down notes at a speed that could only be possible from a shorthand.

“What else can you tell me?”

“They killed Shaun’s father.”

“Father, not husband?”

“He was… but it was more of a platonic relationship than a romantic one. It was safer to be married.” The lie of that sentence burned on her tongue, but she didn’t give in to the emotions that threatened to spill.

“Of course. So they killed him in the Vault?”

“As they were taking Shaun from him. Nate had taken him into the… they told us it was a sanitation procedure.” Cherry caught the lump in her throat. “I was able to move again. Just a little bit. I could hear Shaun crying. It was just one shot to the chest. I could see all of it. Like a movie. God, he gave me a clear view of it all.”

“I… I’m sorry that you had to go through that.”

Roughly brushing away a tear with her thumb, things clicked into place.

“It was a man and someone in a hazmat suit. They didn’t say much, not that I could hear. But as they left, the man came up close to the window of my pod. He called me ‘the backup’ and then they left.”

“So we’re talking a small team?”

“At least. They were organized. I couldn’t see them stop by anyone else before I was frozen again. When I came to again, everyone was still in their pods, but everything was leaking. I… I didn’t think to check if anyone else survived. I figured that if they had, they would have already been out.”

“You can’t blame yourself for that. Far as I can tell, you had a rough day at that point. Trauma can do a lot to a person.”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. So, they’re professionals from the sound of it. Calling you a backup implies that it’s something about either your family or the people in the Vault and you were just the lucky one to make it out. Whoever took your kid had an agenda at the very least.”

He rubbed his jaw as he took a drag off his cigarettes, exposing more of the braces and pipes that allowed the movement.

“Do you even have lungs?” Cherry asked distractedly. “Sorry if that’s rude.”

Valentine chuckled, “No. As far as I can tell, it’s all machine for me. Prototype status also means no organic bits unlike the newer models.”

“So why smoke?”

“Old habits die hard. Besides, I think it really adds to the look.”

Her smile was weak, but she could understand.

“Want one? I hear it can steady the nerves.”

“Oh. No, thank you.” She held up a hand to the offered pack. “I’m alright.”

Smoke from the lit cigarette curled around her, and the familiarity was comforting. In her time here, Porter’s only vice as far as addictions went seemed to be nicotine, and it had become a constant companion right alongside him.

“So if we’re talking organized groups, there’s a handful that could fit the bill in some capacity, but there would be a lot that wouldn’t all add up for most.”

“Like who?”

“Super mutants are more thoughtful than most give them credit for, but the man you’ve described doesn’t fit the bill for big, green, and muscles on muscles. Raiders or Gunners would be a guess, but honestly doubtful. A baby is too much of a hassle for anything other than ransom, and even then I wouldn’t have exactly clocked you as a good mark for that treatment. Most raiders can’t organize themselves,” he glanced up to Porter, “present company excluded. The whole thing seems too complicated for what would normally be a smash and grab job, going into a Vault.”

“That’s what we were able to figure out too,” Porter chimed in. “None of the gangs in that area are equipped to put up with a baby, and on top of that they ain’t got much in the way of ability to get into that Vault of yours.”

“So that really only leaves one group that has any possibility, but sadly there’s not a whole lot of information there. The Institute. Lots of rumors that they steal people and replace them with those more advanced synths I told you about. Indistinguishable from the original aside from some more memories or the occasional tic. Something goes wrong, everyone blames them.”

Porter grunted.

“Easy to see why,” Valentine admitted. “The ones that are obvious don’t even have luxury of a mug like this. They’ll strip entire town ruins for parts and kill everything in their way. No one knows why they do it. No ideas of plans or anything. Hell, I’m a synth too, and I got nothing to go on.”

“Nothing?”

“As far as I know, I’m a prototype. Don’t have an itch to scrap things for parts and a solid enough grasp on conversation to know I’m not one of the early ones. Not realistic or organic enough to be the new model. Woke up in a dumpster one day with no memories of anything else, so I can only assume I’m not exactly useful to the Institute.”

“Right. Sorry, you shouldn’t have to divulge that kind of information.”

“It’s relevant to the case. Trust me, if I had an in to the Institute, I’d be doing a lot more good than I’m able to like this.”

“Okay.” Cherry ran her hand over the old scars at her temple, letting her fingers slide in parallel over the slivers of raised skin to where they met in her hair. “What else do you need to know?”

Valentine looked to his notes.

“What did they look like. You mentioned a hazmat suit. Those are pretty rare so that means expensive. But it sounds like you would have gotten a good look at that man.”

“He had a thick scar across his left eye all the way into his beard.” Reflexively her fingers trailed to her stitches. “Balding. What hair he had on the sides was shaved down. Dark leather bomber style jacket. Improvised armor.”

Cherry pointed to the mannequin on the other side of the room that she’d been using as form practice with Porter for her melee skills. At this point, it was dented in the middle, but the face was still recognizable in the features that Cherry had painted on when she’d first arrived.

Valentine winced, then his eyes widened in recognition.

The gold neon light of his irises contracted and retracted as he looked from the mannequin back to Cherry.

“It couldn’t be,” he murmured. “You didn’t hear the name ‘Kellogg’ at all, did you?”

Anger surged in Cherry for the briefest of moments as she stood and stalked to the counter to get a fresh bottle of water.

“Oh, yeah. I got their names, home addresses. He showed me his diary even!”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean… it’s just too big of a coincidence. There’s someone who meets that exact description, even has a reputation for mercenary work, but isn’t with the Gunners. But last I saw him, he’d bought a house in Diamond City. He had a kid with him. A boy. Around ten.”

Before her mind caught up with her body, the glass bottle in her hand shattered on the ground. Porter was at her side just as quickly, using the flat of his boot to slide the glass up against the base of the counter. She put a hand on his arm to steady herself as she sat on a stool.

It couldn’t be Shaun. Unless the second time she’d gone under was longer than she thought. It was possible. She couldn’t be entirely sure, but the first time she’d woken up things weren’t as broken. The alarm definitely wasn’t going off like it had when she’d stumbled out.

“If that is him… if that’s my baby…”

“Breathe, boss. We don’t know that for sure.”

Porter’s voice anchored her as she tried to pull herself back together. Not unkind or forceful, just firm. Just something to focus on as she re-centered.

“You’re right.”

Inhale, exhale. One, two, three.

“You’re right,” she repeated.

“He didn’t strike me as the fatherly type, considering the work that he does. Either way, they both vanished a while before I went out on my case. I had assumed that they were just moving on, though that’s less likely now that I think about it. It wasn’t like he’d rented a room. He bought that house. Pretty sizable as far as they go in Diamond City.”

“So there’s a chance that it’s another kidnapped kid, if it’s not his son. But that’s the last confirmed location?”

Cherry removed her hand from Porter as he passed her another bottle. This time, she held on with both hands.

“As far as I know.”

“This Kellogg guy,” Porter said, looking away from Cherry and to Valentine, “how long ago did he leave?”

“By my count around four or five days ago. And as far as we were able to tell, his work doesn’t leave the Commonwealth.”

“Any chance he’d be goin’ back to Diamond City?”

Valentine shook his head in apology.

“Genuinely couldn’t tell you. He didn’t take any jobs that I could tell while he was there, though it wasn’t a secret what work he did. The mayor had me vet him before he bought the place - not like there was a whole lot that I could track down.”

“How do you want to play this, boss?”

Cherry stared up at him for what felt like a lifetime as she tried to process everything in this new information. She took in the scars leading into his eyepatch, the healed over cut down his chin, the parts of his left cheek that looked like chunks had been burned into a messy batch of bubbles that was now dusted with stubble, slowly mending bruises and burns and scrapes from their last trip out. His eye that stared unabashedly into her as she studied him.

Whatever choice you make, I got your back, he almost seemed to say.

“Think I can handle going into the Commonwealth now?”

His smile was all Cherry wanted to focus on while she reeled at the realization of how close she was and remembered that there was someone else here watching her watch Porter.

“Sounds like this Kellogg guy is gonna be meeting his maker soon.”

Chapter Text

Despite the news, there was still another day until the stitches were removed, and that made the boss antsy. When she was antsy, she cleaned. When there was nothing to clean, she found something.

“I won’t break myself packing some boxes,” Cherry argued with a jut of her hip. “And I’m not taking any meetings without you there, Porter.”

Gage did his best to ignore the snarky synth sitting in the corner of Fizztop’s interior as, once again, Gage argued with the boss over her itch to rearrange. Since they got back from the bottling plant, he hadn’t let her out of his sight in case the itch won out, and she’d end up at the bottom of a pile of boxes. Gage still had to sleep, though. It was a need that he had begrudged when Colter was in charge and loathed now that his puppet had both motivation and brains. Stupidity was generally easier to fix than intentional moves.

And there sure as fuck were some intentional moves that could be made if she was left alone with a guy playing morality police.

“Alright,” a well placed sigh and shake of the head, “but we need you healed up if we’re going out there after those stitches are pulled out.”

“I’ll be good. Promise.”

“Packing only.”

Cherry grinned as she spun on her heel and headed to the pantry that she was going to turn into her new bedroom. The fact that she was now setting out something more permanent than a hammock was a good sign, but intentions weren’t actions.

At first, his hawk-like attention was just to make sure there was no retaliation for the Operators pulling up their own flag. But no one seemed to be pissed at her about it. When she gave them the money making scheme for Nukalurk harvesting, something that would be some good old fashioned killing for the average raider and a steady flow of caps for the gang as a whole, well, who were they to complain about having to hoist a piece of cloth.

Now, it was more of the sense of impending changes in the plan. So far every time she was left alone, there was some new shiny project that she wanted to pour herself into. That would be all well and good once the roots the gangs put down had time do grow and dig. Right now, there was a very real chance that the other shoe was going to drop down hard onto them.

“Don’t do anything stupid while I’m out,” he muttered as he lit a cigarette.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she called over her shoulder.

God, that smile and everything I could do with it.

Gage fought off the creeping urge to turn right back around and start packing for their trip into the Commonwealth. Right now, his task was telling the other bosses to keep shit in check while he and Cherry were gone.

Him passing her the coat, something clicking in her eyes with the heft of it. Her standing at the mirror, carefully putting on makeup while he fiddled with the clasps of her armor.

When she pleaded, she went all in with every ounce she had. She had looked at the detective with the adoration of someone looking to their god, with eyes that begged him to give her answers and oh how good that had felt to see that detective eat it up. All the while, Gage was at her side, not even needing to prompt her. She was finally starting to take.

The look she flicked his way. He’s more than just a dog. The eyes that stared into him as if he was the only thing holding her to Earth. Her carefully dancing around the damning details while making sure to gain sympathy.

It wasn’t just knowing that Gage could twirl her around into any plan he wanted that made something stir in him. She still had that frustrating moral backbone and wasn’t afraid to fight back, to speak out. And that meant she was choosing to let him twirl her. It was like she knew how to wear his plans as a second skin. Any worries of her acting ability were shoved aside the moment she put Nisha in her place. The handle she’d gotten on Mason early on was impressive. She and Mags could speak the same language, even if the boss didn’t really believe in it. Nisha was the one he’d worried about.

His blood turning to ice when she approached Nisha.

Nisha, who was never happy with not being the favorite. Goddamn had the boss delivered.

His stomach coiling in grim satisfaction when she grabbed the knife and demanded one of her own.

Nisha didn’t get scared. She got angry, threw fits, and huffed away in her rank dungeon of a mountain before sending someone out to get the job done. For all their bluster, the Disciples were as good at not getting caught as they were at bloodletting.

 Her pressing the blade in a show of defiance instead of aggression. The promise to spill the blood of whoever got in her way. The crying need in his bones to see her do just that.

Gage’s mind rammed to a halt along with the lift.

“Mr. Gage!”

Goddammit.

Pins grinned up at him, their fringe of light brown hair hiding half of their face. Behind them, a trader and Pack kid, each with an armful of pelts, looked around their loads. Both had the good senses to stop moving.

“What is it?”

The smile faltered for a fraction of a second before shining back like it needed to blind the sun.

“Needles and I worked out a deal with the Pack, so your order should be ready in two days.”

A pair of heads jammed onto pikes at the front gate.

“We could maybe go a little faster if we get an extra hour with you looking over the final touches. Needles is still grumpy that Cherry Boss won’t let her do the welding.”

Dried blood in the cracks of the street in front of Fizztop.

Gage nodded and let the things that could happen while he and the boss were away firmly where they belonged. In a single moment, not in reality.

Collars too big to fit around the neck, too small to slide off of the head.

Trying, at least.

“Yeah, kid.” Internally, he rolled his eye. Externally, he glanced up to the second floor. “The boss was pleased as shit with the new armor. Bettin’ that you and the punk-ass will have some business drummed up in no time.”

Everything almost right, but too quiet as the doors open to an empty workshop.

Pins bounced on their toes once, twice, slamming their heel into the dusty asphalt.

One sitting in a corner, catatonic, staring at a pile of small limbs.

“I know we talked about the design already, Mr. Gage, but I think I worked out a good release mechanism for the metal that will still let you keep an underlayer of leather.”

Screaming and crying and-

“How about you tell me more when I come in later on. I got business to take care of for the boss.”

Pins nodded, turned to the pair following them, and moved to the door. The system that the kids had worked out for ensuring that only they were getting in and out of the workshop would be impressive if it wasn’t so simple to figure out. But that was part of why it had apparently worked.

Pins slipped a small piece of paper into the crack between the doors that had opened up from the years of rust and age and the help of a thin iron rod. Just big enough to slip a note with a code word, of which they each carried four - one real and three dummies.

Honestly, it was overkill if you asked him, but if it made them feel like they could sleep instead of hiding out upstairs, he was more than fine with it.

The door opened a few beats later to a bedraggled Needles who promptly, took one of the armfuls and shooed the adults away. Pins grabbed the other, nodded to the assistants, and waved their fingers at Gage from under the bundle before Needles unceremoniously closed the door. Once he heard the bolt slide back into place, he headed off to see Nisha.

“So soon?”

“The boss has shit that needs doin’.”

He hated when Nisha did this shit. Lounging on her couch up in her fucking tower like a shack on top of everything was supposed to make it impressive. It was still a fucking shack. The couch was as ratty as everything else, and smelled just as rancid.

Sure, he enjoyed a little cathartic blood letting, but keeping the rotting pieces all around you was something he’d never really gotten. Fucking bones would be more than enough to get the point across and wouldn’t make you nauseous in the middle of the night.

“So what? We have business here.”

“Let me rephrase for you: the boss has someone to collect out in the ‘Wealth, and he’s getting brought to your door when we come back. So, we’re gonna go do that and you just make sure he’s got somewhere to get his fingers bit off or whatever the fuck.”

She pursed her lips and sighed into the ceiling.

“Very reductive of our work, Gage.”

“Look, the boss is givin’ you the rights to get as creative as you want so long as he can talk. So how about you plan out what the fuck you want to do and let me get on with my day, Nisha.”

Nisha’s eyes wide as metal tears into flesh.

A thunk of a step in the doorway let him know that Savoy was less than pleased about Gage’s tone, but he had been tired of this game for a while now.

“I ain’t here to do more than deliver the message from the boss. Message delivered.”

Savoy kept his post at the door even when Gage stepped into his space.

Savoy, a mess on the ground watching uselessly, legs bent the wrong way where kneecaps once were. Dixie slumped over her trophies with rebar lanced though her ribs.

Anyone else would have had a knife in the gut already. Gage wasn’t untouchable, but he’d made it clear that he was coming here to speak with Nisha, meaning that for the moment, if Gage wound up hurt or dead, it would be traced back to Nisha herself. There was enough history he’d dug through, that Gage had always been confident about Nisha not pinning her kills on someone else. Half of playing Nisha was that knowledge. He also wasn’t one to generally be foolhardy with the bosses.

Gage’s hands covered in blood as Nisha’s body falls from the top of her tower down, down, down-

“That shit you tried to pull won’t work,” Gage said, still frowning at the solidly in the way Savoy, “not cause the boss would try to kill you, but because she really is willing to cut out anyone not on board. She’s not Colter.”

“No,” Nisha admitted. “No. She’s actually trying. Arguably more of a headache.”

“No arguin’ it. Gets results, though.”

“She has too many rules for my tastes.”

“Yeah, well at least these ones will actually use this place for a fuckin’ change.”

The snap of her fingers, and Savoy obediently shifted out of Gage’s way.

“Be a good dog and run off to your master, then.”

Talking with Nisha was always like that. She wanted to act like she was more than just someone who wanted the last word. Infuriating and a year ago blood boiling. At this point, Gage was certain that the kids were less childish than whatever ego trip Nisha was running on.

The conversations with Mags and Mason were, predictably, less frustrating. He knew well enough that they could keep Nisha’s tantrums in check while he was out. Hell, that’s what they’d done when Colter was too goddamn drunk to piss straight.

They took the news, asked few questions, and sent him off to get on with his day.

Great timing too, cause almost as soon as he got back to Fizztop, he could feel the energy pulsing off of Cherry as she leaned into the table towards the detective. Her back was to Gage as he moved into the room.

“-hard, you know? I’m barely holding everything together as it is. Without his help… I don’t know how far I would have made it at all. And with the kids, there’s an extra layer to it.”

“And what about you, Mr. Guard Dog? What’s your stake in all of this?”

Gage shrugged.

“I follow orders and make sure she doesn’t get too out of control.”

Cherry didn’t move to acknowledge his presence for just a beat before she sank into her chair. When she did fully turn to him, face no longer in the detective’s line of sight, her eyes darted to the kitchen.

“Are we good to leave?” she asked, moving her eyes again.

“The doc is probably going to want you to take another day after the stitches are pulled, but there’s no one to really stop you.”

“Even the bosses?”

An edge of worry in her voice that didn’t match the expression of cool detachment. Gage slowly walked to the kitchen and with each step saw her face melt into the look of a mother concerned for her unruly child. As he moved, her face followed, the detective’s eyes matching pace.

“I talked them around. Nisha, mostly. They think that you’re going out to take care of some business. Not a lie, technically.”

Cherry nodded. She looked like she was on the brink of goddamn tears. A hint of fear. A touch of hope.

A lesser man would be concerned that he was the one actually getting played. A lesser man would try to shut it down. A lesser man would have killed her the first time he saw the whiplash speed that she processed what emotions she needed to leverage to get what she needed.

Gage was not a lesser man, and he saw the endless opportunities that she was opening up.

And more than that, she was interesting.

The trust that Gage would be able to keep up with her game fanned something in him.

Her eyes shining in the lantern light. A hand on his arm as she sighs into a smile. Night covering the parks with pinpricks of light radiating from the camps-

“Detective, I’ll be honest. My only priorities are getting my son back and keeping my kids safe. I just want to have somewhere for them to grow up safely.”

In the kitchen, an open box sat on the counter. Tucked between her bags of granola, a folded piece of paper peeked out. Silently, he pulled it out with two fingers and opened it. Her writing was something he had become intimately familiar with over the past few days.

The escape plan is on. We’ll find somewhere safe for us and the kids while we’re out. The detective can help us get to the city but after that we’re on our own. Once we find somewhere, we’ll fake my death and you’ll bring the kids to location. The five of us can be happy away from all of this horror. Burn this once you read this. We can’t let anyone else find out.

He pulled out his pack of cigarettes, sliding the note in and a stick out. As he moved to lean on the door frame, he flicked on his lighter and raised it to the cigarette between this lips.

-while she looks over what’s hers. Gage’s hand resting on her hip. Leaning in to whisper in her ear. Lips brushing against skin and her hair-

“Have you told him already?” Gage nodded his head to the detective. “About the other part of everythin’?”

Cherry had the balls to cut a concerned look to the direction of the elevator.

“No. I wanted to make sure that you got back first.”

“Other part?” the detective asked.

Cherry nodded.

“To get us and the kids out. Porter… he was strong-armed into a contract for the guy who was running the place before I showed up. Now that he’s dead, there’s nothing to really keep him safe.”

-silky in his fingers. His heart thumping in time with hers as she trails her hands down his chest-

Slow drag off the cigarette, eye meeting eye as she glanced to Gage and then looked the detective full in the face.

“We can talk more about it when we’re on the road. I don’t want to risk anything happening here,” she whispered. “Please, just know that this isn’t the place that we want to be.”

“Look, darlin’, if the detective doesn’t want to get involved, it’ll be fine.”

Her head whipped to him, cheeks darkening, eyes wide.

“We need all the help we can get, Porter.”

“We’ll figure it out when we get there. For now, I’m gonna go make sure we have what we need for a long trip out.”

“Do you need help?”

-but stopping just above his jeans. Pressing her into the railing with his hips-

“Nah. We’ll have time for your double check tomorrow. Besides, you need your rest.”

-feeling the way her breath hitches when there’s nothing more than clothes between them-

Gage stubbed out his cigarette on the side of his boot sole, almost missing the way Cherry’s eyes flicked down to his hands and then darted back up to meet his gaze.

Or maybe that was imagination.

God help him, he needed to walk this off.

Chapter Text

Cherry was more than happy to spend the last day of her confinement in Fizztop talking with Detective Valentine. He was delightful company for the most part. Once the drama of it all was spun for him, he was genuinely invested in helping.

It was refreshing to say the least.

Every so often, though, he’d ask about Porter.

Darlin ’.

When he’d rolled it off his tongue, it was as natural as anything. And there was something about it that made her want to lean into the soft sounds. Of course, that was ridiculous.

Because when it was all said and done, it was… not the plan she’d intended.

Porter was pretty good at keeping up, but the note had been maybe not as detailed as it should have been. In a perfect world, they’d be able to play it back and make it out to have been a sarcastic comment on Cherry being soft. But, the detective was all but convinced of the star-crossed lovers angle that Porter had unwittingly put in motion.

Later that evening, she’d pulled Porter aside to ask what that had been about, set him straight. They worked together in the pantry, clearing out space for what would eventually be Cherry’s bedroom. When Valentine had asked about it, she’d claimed that it was because they didn’t know if they would have surprise guests. And the kids didn’t know the “real” plan to escape, since they could accidentally let it slip. He’d nodded like that made sense and offered to keep the kids company.

“Sorry, boss,” Porter murmured, covering his voice with the sounds of packing away what little Colter had left there.

“It’s fine, we can work with this, but we’ll have to play the parts. I’m not asking you to be a sap, just try to act the way a lover would.”

He stiffened at the same time that he tried shifting one of the metal shelves over.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Just considerin’ settin’ this shit on fire and callin’ it a day.”

Cherry smiled, not unkindly but with more sass than really necessary, and helped him move it to a horizontal position.

“You know with some adjustments, we could make this into a bed frame.”

“Good. It can stay in here.”

“Flip a few more over and we can have a slumber party.”

Porter glared up at her, but it was clear his heart wasn’t in it by the way his mouth twitched up at the corner.

When she really thought about it, it was a good cover.

It was something that Valentine could make sense of for an answer to why someone with so much power - Porter Gage, the big bad second in command of a bunch of raiders - would want to leave that life. Of course he was in love. And of course, Cherry would fall for the man who helped her escape such an awful place.

Porter grunted as he lifted another shelf up an inch and carried it over to the doorway before realizing it was too tall and had to be on its side.

Of course this guy was the person I ’d fall for. Just look at him trying to be the toughest guy here instead of asking for a hand.

The idea was enough to make Cherry laugh. She didn’t. In part because she didn’t want to blow the new, tentative peace that the two had going ever since they got back from the bottling plant.

Also in part because maybe the pretend would be nice.

It wasn’t like she wanted to act on anything right now. The hell of everything going on left very little space for wanting to fall into someone’s arms, no matter how much bigger they were than her. And Porter wasn’t exactly a cuddly man, so it wasn’t really fair to project that persona onto him.

And yet, there was something in how Porter was behaving when Valentine was in the room. He didn’t hover, but he was always nearby. It wasn’t stressful. It was actually comforting to have him around in general, but this was something different.

“How about we call it for the night and finish up later?”

“Sure. Maybe I’ll wake up and you’ll already have thrown them off the balcony.”

Cherry snorted as she ran her shoulder into his chest.

-

When she woke up the next morning, her hammock still pulled up near the stove, he was already awake and packing. He’d inventoried, double checked, and wordlessly passed Cherry her bag to confirm the way it fit over her armor.

“Sorry, darlin’, but I don’t think that coat of yours is gonna be a good idea out there. A bit too noticeable in the long run.”

The fact of the matter was: Cherry felt safe with him nearby. With one word, he conveyed that Valentine was not only nearby, but also that he was expecting something of an act from them.

Darlin ’.

Which made sense considering that they’d slept separately and in shifts. Of course, that made sense, given everything that the two of them had been through in the past couple of weeks. Even if the bosses were satisfied, that didn’t mean that the grunts were.

She couldn’t forget how much effort had been put in to just reaching this point between them. Where she was able to trust that she wasn’t going to get gutted in her sleep, and he was able to tolerate the fact that she had a mind of her own.

Cherry cleared her throat and - after a quick camp shower with a rag and changing into fresh clothes - worked on cutting up the meat for lunch. Porter was now back at his fight of a lifetime with the shelves that he had began begrudgingly walking to the deck.

“Y’know, I think it’s kinda nice how you’ve domesticated the place,” Valentine said from the counter.

The laugh that bubbled in her spilled into the air.

“I’d hardly call it domesticated.”

“Well, you had a synth housed up here and didn’t get dragged out kicking and screaming. Counts for something in my books.”

“I think that’s more to do with the fact that they think I’m actually intimidating.”

“And him moving that furniture for you is out of intimidation too?”

She smiled over her shoulder at Valentine, who sat drumming his metal fingers on the plastic sheet Cherry had laid out over the top.

“Absolutely. Never piss off a house-spouse.”

He chuckled a bit before sobering up.

“Well, you made it this far with no experience in survival. I’d say that’s pretty intimidating.”

“I actually do have survival training.” Cherry turned her attention to the soup that she had started up the night before at the lowest heat she could get it. “Maybe a touch less… intense than the lessons people learn nowadays. But my parents were very sure that I would need to know how to take care of myself in case of war.”

“Huh.”

“I was pretty good at it too. Not the scout stuff. Most of that was pretty bullshit, lots of propaganda and focus on putting out good little future soldiers. I had family and community groups that taught me what I know.”

“Was that normal?”

Cherry laughed, “No, not at all. Actually, I’m pretty sure half of what I learned was technically illegal.”

“That why you fell for a criminal?”

“Nate wasn’t- oh.”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be an ass, if you’ll pardon my French.”

Cherry cocked her head at him for a moment, processing the use of a phrase that for all intents and purposes should have died two hundred years ago.

“How do you know that you’ve fallen for someone anyway?” Cherry asked instead, moving to a pan loaded with chopped carrots and tatos. “I mean, I’ve had my fair share of bad luck with it, I guess. What about you?”

The silence from Valentine was almost as deafening as a bomb going off in front of her.

“Sorry, if that’s-“

“No. No, it’s only fair. I wasn’t trying to give you the third degree. I haven’t had anyone special like that in what feels like a lifetime.”

Cherry nodded.

“For me, it felt safer to not have relationships in the traditional way. Hook-ups or friends with benefits was less likely for people to get hurt. When I fall, it’s not exactly graceful.”

“How so?”

“I’m very… protective of the people I care about. When I was fifteen I nearly hospitalized my girlfriend’s father for being a bigoted asshole over dinner. Granted, I was almost hospitalized too. Had a damn good lawyer though. It was part of the reason I decided to be a defense lawyer at all.”

The rest of her cooking session passed in silence.

Once the soup was finished, the venison and sauteed vegetables added to the now boiling pot, Cherry gave an apologetic smile to Valentine.

“You might want to cover your ears.”

“Oh. Alright then.”

Dutifully, he placed his hands against his ears. Cherry took in a deep breath, feeling her lungs expand.

“Food!”

The door to the deck quickly opened and shut. In less than five minutes, Porter was grumbling about the kids not being up yet and marching off to collect them.

Maybe he is a little more domesticated now.

Calling the kids in for dinner. Washing his hands before even leaving to the elevator. Clearing out space in Fizztop for her to be comfortable once the cold truly set in. Space that Cherry had thought of as his.

“You really care about that big lug, huh?”

“He’s done more for me than anyone else here so far. Hell, he saved my life, for all intents and purposes.”

“And you don’t find it odd that he wants to run away from all of this?”

“No. I mean, they want him dead here. One misstep and he’s another body on a pike.” Cherry shuddered. She didn’t have to fake that. “Besides, I think it’s a good thing. He was only here for a contract. It should have ended when I got here. Even if I don’t have a choice in it.”

“So why did he stay? Love at first sight?”

“No.” Cherry acted like her attention was focused on the food she was adding to a pot. Admittedly, the vegetables were in need of a good stir. “I just… told him I didn’t know what was going on. And he helped. At first it was because he would probably have been killed if word got out. But the more we worked together, the more we… connected, I guess.”

“What’s a lawyer and a raider have in common?”

Cherry gave a winning smile as she moved the pot of soup from the stove to a towel on the counter.

“Depending on who you ask, a whole lot. Though, I was a defense lawyer, so I think I was allowed to keep my soul.”

Valentine smiled back, and really he wasn’t that off-putting when he did show more emotion. The eyes were nowhere near as terrifying as Oswald’s had been. Even knowing that the man was a decent guy, twisted versions of him had in fact wormed their way into her nightmares.

“So you really think that you’ll be able to make it?”

The elevator elevator motor came to life and dinged. Cherry held up an apologetic hand to halt the conversation.

“Cherry Boss!” Needles hollered from the other room, “We don’t have time to eat right now! If you want to get on the road tomorrow, then you’ll need to let us work!”

“I don’t think sisters turn down food,” Pins said as the grungy and feral gang entered her line of sight. They walked quickly when food was involved, faster when it was homemade.

Under her care, the kids had started putting on some much needed weight. Porter too, for that matter. There was only so much you could do without a farm, but she’d tended victory gardens a long time. Pins had started rounding out, Needles putting on some muscle from her work at hauling. But it was far from them actually being healthy.

“Actually,” Cherry said with a smile, “I think that sisters set the table while Pins helps me with taking the food to it.”

Porter sat back, leaning his elbows onto his knees and watched the way that the kids instinctively worked around each other. Cherry passed over empty bowls and a basket of bread.

“Are you gonna eat too, Mr. Valentine?” Needles asked, risking a quick glance at Cherry who had an eyebrow raised. She’d already been chewed out for rudeness to guests the night before.

“You don’t have to worry about me, kiddo. I’m machine through and through.”

Needles shrugged, leaving an empty spot at the table for Valentine to sit at if he wanted.

“You two are pretty polite. There’s a few other kids at Diamond City that I think you’d get along with pretty good. There’s a school there too.”

“That would be nice,” Pins answered, setting the pot of soup on the table. “But Needles and I are going to be raiders when we grow up.”

“That so?” The detective did his best to keep his frown off his tone.

Cherry moved to take her place at the table beside the serving utensils that Needles had laid out.

“Too bad, they’re both too young to join while I’m running this show.”

She looked up to see Valentine’s expression school itself into a passive mask, his gaze shifting from Cherry to Porter. After a pause, he got up and moved to the empty place at the table.

Porter’s seat scraped a bit as he scooted in next to Cherry.

“You wanna pass me some of that stuff there?”

Cherry grinned at him.

“Manners?”

He squinted, glaring at the kids who also were holding back giggles, albeit very badly.

“Please.”

Cherry passed over a ladle piled with ragstag meat and carrots.

“Thanks.”

“Oh!” Pins shot up and ran to the kitchen. “We forgot drinks!”

“Water for me!” Needles called out before shoving a spoonful of soup into her mouth.

“I’ll have some of the juice you made this morning. Porter, you want anything?”

“I’ll get it myself.”

She watched him pass the detective, giving him a wide berth as he went.

It wasn’t her imagination. Valentine was definitely watching him like a ham. The detective was good, but not entirely subtle in how he kept his attention on the grump. She’d thought that seeing him interact with the kids would help some, alleviate the suspicion.

“The soup should last for the next couple of days.” Cherry said once everyone was seated again. “I asked Miss Plummer and Chip to check in on you in the morning and evening.”

“And we don’t let anyone in, we don’t go out.” Needles droned. “We know.”

“It’s important. This isn’t one of our two day trips.” A glance at Valentine. “I don’t expect this to take more than a week, but there’s a chance that something could happen out there.”

“No way! You’re too bada- I mean. You’re strong. Even if you’re goofy.”

Cherry playfully stuck a tongue out, earning her an elbow to the ribs.

“Ow!”

“If I can’t make fun, you don’t get to either, darlin’.”

Cherry rubbed at her side, scrunching her face up at Porter, who went back to tearing into the cut up radstag. Of everything that Cherry had cooked in her time here, that had seemed to be what he most enjoyed.

Maybe I ’m the one who’s lost sight of things.

“In all seriousness, guys. I don’t think it’s a good idea to stray too far from downstairs. We’ll have the lift unplugged from up here. But I don’t like leaving you alone.”

“Do you want someone to stay with them? I can call over one of the traders or my guys.”

Porter didn’t look up from his plate.

Cherry, however, made no moves to hide her surprise at the offer.

“Who?”

“Honestly, if you wanted someone to match their energy, Red-Eye could set up his rig and would keep everyone else away with just the knowledge that he was here.”

Needles groaned in dread.

“No. Way.”

“Cherry Boss, if we promise to be good can Mr. Red-Eye not stay with us?”

Swallowing a laugh, Cherry did her best to look stern.

“If you clean up well tonight, take your baths, and go to bed at a reasonable hour, then I’ll see if Keith will stay with you instead.”

Chapter Text

The lunch conversation and stares from Valentine had been more uncomfortable than getting the stitches pulled. Watching the kids carefully wash plates and put them away in the wooden box that was serving as a shelf made her realize how much the detective was right. She was trying to domesticate what she could control.

“A’int that bad, boss,” Porter said as Cherry ran a finger over the scar, “I bet you’ll get more tough points now.”

He quickly switched his lopsided grin into the more fierce one. The one that Cherry definitely hadn’t caught herself thinking about as she fell asleep.

They had left the detective with Pins and Needles on the first floor. They didn’t want him snooping, but also didn’t want him to attract too much attention by accompanying Cherry to her doctor’s visit.

At this moment, feeling the oddly soft brush of skin against skin, she was glad he wasn’t here to analyze the conversation. It took everything in her to not lean into it, to not press her hand to her cheek and pretend it was someone else’s.

When was the last time that she was just held?

Then she remembered that there was an audience. Granted, it was one who wouldn’t talk about what they saw.

“That’s the least of my concerns right now, Gage.”

She forced herself to take a step back and hold herself up alone.

The doctor and her new assistant watched the exchange with a nervous energy before finally setting down the mirror that Cherry had been using to examine her face, freshly cleared of nylon. It was definitely going to be a visible scar, but it wasn’t jagged or seeping.

In fact, it was only the whisper of a scar, slightly raised from the rest of her skin. The curve of her eyebrow even made it look like her old scars and this one were one and the same - aside from the clear difference in their age.

“Thank you, Mackenzie. I appreciate your help.”

“She all cleared for our trip?” Gage asked, sitting on the makeshift surgery bed that they’d set up. His fingers reached for his pocket, then quickly settled back into his lap.

“As far as this is concerned, yes.” The doctor’s voice came out tight and wary.

Getting Mackenzie to talk had been a lot easier after the rebuilding efforts. When she learned that Gage was in on getting the traders out from under the raiders’ collective thumb, she had tentatively started to be less of a clam at the bottom of the ocean and more of a shy toddler that occasionally babbled at strangers to stay away.

“When will you be back, Overboss?” she asked, turning directly to Cherry.

Cherry glanced at the traders and sighed before turning her face to the ceiling. She’d done so good at quick turnaround on things that she was pushing herself on that now she was hesitant to say anything about this outing.

“About a week is what we’re aiming for. Keith is keeping an eye on the kids for the time we’re out. Please, let the others know that they’re to stay in Fizztop. I don’t care how much they complain or try to through their weight around-”

“Ain’t much to throw,” Gage chimed, a fond smirk in his voice.

“-they’re to stay put,” Cherry finished.

“Of course. I can check on them too, if you’d like.”

The gratitude welling up in her was very real. The kids had endeared themselves to a lot of the traders with their very clear understanding of their work and skills. It had been funny seeing full adults unironically defer to Needles when it came to cloth usability for clothing versus rags. She’d even seen Pins slip mended dolls to some raiders who’d walked away with small smiles.

She’d hoped that there was some humanity to the people here, and while she had seen signs, that had been the one thing she’d needed. Not everyone was holding on to cruelty as their sole personality trait.

“That would be great, Mackenzie. We’re leaving at first light, so anything else goes on, you’ve got the authority to lock the kids up in here with you.”

She nodded grimly before going about her work of sterilizing the equipment.

Cherry and her right-hand man made their way to the Parlor for their first trip to the bosses. Sure, Gage had already let them know the plan, but if they were going to ask for anything special while she was out, she’d better give them the chance to ask.

The meeting was quick. More formal than Cherry would have liked, but it was the first time in a few days that Cherry had been able to walk around without Gage trying to rush her back home. Coming here first was more of a matter of practicality than anything, they were here already, might as well.

Mags smiled broadly as Cherry approached, Gage in full second-in-command mode just a few steps behind. Cherry returned the smile as much as she could without feeling a little sore.

“So, Boss. You’re going out for a trip to cause some trouble?”

“And with luck some scouting.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Think you’ve earned a little R and R. William and I got you something that might help you on your endeavors. If I recall, you’ll be coming back with a guest for the parks. We had Lizzie use some of the resources at our disposal to make him a little more… amenable to your direction.”

Mags waved a hand to the side room that nearly every Operator had warned her to stay clear of if she valued her mind.

Together, Mags and William led Cherry to the laboratory, where a brunette with thick goggles leaned over a chemistry set. Her hair was hastily tied back in a loose ponytail that was surely a safety hazard. Medium brown skin and thin was a pretty common combination around Nuka-World, but it stuck Cherry as this being more of Lizzie having a higher metabolism than from periodic starvation.

Registering the group approaching, the woman held up one finger and observed something bubbling in a beaker before writing on a clipboard and nodding to the people crowding the doorway.

“Overboss. Good to meet you,” Lizzie said, not looking away from her writing. “Thank you for the ideas and access to the Nukalurks. I’ve been able to make some advances in my experiments with breeding them to be more docile. There were even a couple of NukaKings that hatched from our latest brood and-”

“Lizzie,” Mags interrupted with a warning tone and smile, “the Boss is a very busy woman who I’m sure would much rather read a report when she returns.”

“Ah. Yes. Of course.” She seemed unfazed as she turned deftly and pulled out a small wooden box and a slip of paper. “Here’s your order. I call them persuasion grenades. Now, they’re grenades for a reason, you don’t want to be in the blast zone when the spray releases.”

Cherry nodded, stepping forward to take the box. Inside were three grenades, sleeker than the ones that she’d seen so far. The center looked like a glass vial held in place by a ring of metal extending from the thick columns that attached to the base and top.

“With these, you’ll release a gas that when your target breathes in, will be susceptible to following orders. Between this and a well-placed incapacitation, you should be able to drag your guest here with less kicking a screaming.”

“Just pull the pin and throw?”

“Exactly. Give it a few seconds to spread before giving orders. It won’t affect things without a nervous system and isn’t helpful with animals. Still working on that function, but that will require significantly more testing.”

Cherry looked over the grenades, gingerly lifting one out of the box. Vaguely, she remembered the possibility of The Institute being involved.

“What about synths?”

“Hm.” Lizzie gave a thoughtful quirk of her lips. “I think that there would be a good chance on it working for the newest gen, they’re not much different than humans and capable of cognizant speech. Lower gens are less likely. If I recall correctly, they’re more machinery, no nervous system.”

Cherry nodded, placing the grenade back in the box before passing it over to Gage. Without taking her eyes off of Lizzie, she felt him carefully placing the new cargo into her backpack.

“Alright. That’ll have to do. This is very good work, Lizzie. I look forward to seeing what else you can do. If you ever need supplies for something that will benefit the parks, put in a request and send it to me. I’ll take a look.”

Lizzie grinned, adjusted her ponytail, and returned to her work.

The Amphitheater had become significantly less smelly than it had been on previous visits, which were admittedly not as many as she would have liked. She hadn’t lied about enjoying the Pack’s fighting ring - so long as it was consensual sparring.

“Well hey there, Overboss,” Mason called from the ring.

A young woman with burning eyes glared up at him from a pile of bright furs on the floor. She was bleeding from her nose and looked like she wasn’t done fighting. Mason placed a foot on her back, pushing her into the ground, but the glare didn’t ease up.

“Heard you were heading out tomorrow.”

“You heard right. You busy?”

“Nah. Just putting a pup back in her place. Would you believe that people think that they can join up and be Alpha right off the bat?”

He grinned down at the woman who spit off to the side, not onto Mason, himself, but close. As she did, he dug his heel in, causing the woman to groan in frustration. With a deft hand, she grasped his ankle and yanked it to the left. Mason lost his balance for just a moment.

Long enough to pivot and kick the woman in the ribs.

“I think you’ve got spark, kid. But you keep this shit up, there won’t be a shallow enough grave for you. Got it?” Mason stepped away, all swagger.

Cherry watched the woman get to her knees, grimace, and start to get up to go in the other direction. Off to the side, money exchanged hands and a gaggle of older Pack members laughed uproariously.

“And next time,” Mason shouted over to them, “you try and do your dirty work yourself!”

The gaggle sobered up, muttering vague apologies to their Alpha before walking off.

As Mason approached, leaning on the gate of the ring, Cherry smirked.

“Kid has spirit.”

“Yeah. Some training up and some understanding of the actual fucking pecking order, she’ll have a good place here. So, boss. What can I do for you?”

“More of a checking in before I head out tomorrow. First light, and I’m on the train.”

“Well, shit. You’re really going out there. Not gonna leave us high and dry, are you?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Where else am I going to have so much fun?”

Mason laughed dryly, glanced to the side, and crooked two fingers for Cherry to come closer.

“Want a good fight before you head out? We’ve got a nice prize on the line.”

Cherry arched a brow.

“See that dog over there?”

A rottweiler with a deep brown muzzle sat at attention by Mason’s throne. A thick chain sat around her neck, run through with brightly colored cloth and ribbon.

“That’s Dakota, my latest pup all grown up. Good fighter. Good hunter. Trained by yours truly.”

Cherry just knew that the longing was roaming freely across her face. She always had been a sucker for the breeds that people claimed were dangerous or untrainable.

She’d had a pit bull mix growing up, Beulah, who was the sweetest thing in the world. The dog would play with you for just as long as you wanted, and when you were done, she’d plop over on the ground for a nice nap. Of course, she was also fiercely protective over the family and would just as soon bite you if you didn’t know how to be respectful.

“I really shouldn’t. I only just got the all clear from the doc.”
“Your loss.”

“I’ll take a crack at it,” Gage said from behind her.

She whirled to face him, his stony face looking to the dog and only the dog.

“Seen the dogs you breed.” His gruff voice betraying nothing, he turned his eye to Mason. “It’ll be a good thing to have in a fight. So, who’s the one to beat?”

Mason’s smile pulled up sharply in the corners. Pushing himself off of the gate, he jutted his chin to a man in the stands.

Robin.

He was lounging against another man’s legs, eyes closed in what could only be described as pure peace. Even though his hands were stained red and where his chest was bare, scratches like claw marks pierced against his pale flesh.

“Hasn’t lost one yet. There’s only two more matches until the final, but I think I can scoot you into it on reputation alone, Gage.”

Gage nodded, cracking his neck.

“Any rules for this one?”

“Down to your skins. So long as it’s part of you, it’s a valid way to fight.”

“’Til the other gives in, I assume?”

“I’m not about to lose my Beta over something like a competition. One of you taps out, goes unconscious, or gets out of the ring, it’s called.”

Gage nodded, going to unlatch his chest piece.

“How about you get your guy over here for an ass-kickin’, and I leave with a new dog?”

Mason’s laugh echoed through the area, turning heads immediately. Robin looked up from his seat with a feral smile. There was something haunting about the look in his eye as he stared down at Gage’s show of kicking off the metal leg braces that would be replaced soon. And with a matching tenacity, Gage shook out his shoulders.

Cherry smiled as though she was only amused and helpless to stop him from getting himself a prize. She’d never actually seen him fight like this though and was more than curious about how it would go. He must be good if Mason was willing to let him skip past anyone else. In fact, Cherry didn’t hear any complaints or griping from the audience as Gage let himself into the ring.

Mason gestured for a Pack kid to move Gage’s armor off to the side. The metal scraped as little as possible as the thin man tried his bast to carry it out of the way.

“Well, Overboss,” he said, not bothering to hide his excitement, “let’s see how our dogs match up?”

Cherry and Mason sat beside each other, close to the fence that marked out the ring. Watching Robin slip in the ring, Cherry frowned at the way that Gage didn’t seem to have anything in it.

She enjoyed the view, but something like worry gnawed at the edge of her mind. Robin hadn’t been difficult for her to fight in part because his type was what she’d specialized in back in middle school.

Robin took a deep bow to the crowd cheering him on and gestured to Gage’s face lazily.

“The eyepatch counts as armor, Gage.”

Cherry heard Gage sigh as he removed the offending cloth, wadded it up, and tossed it with the rest of his armor.

Seeing him in nothing but a pair of jeans was something that shouldn’t have gotten anything out of her. And yet, it was only the knowledge that she was in a public space, that she didn’t make a joke at him about stripping for her.

“Now, Boss. I know that you’ve got to cheer your guy on, but Robin hasn’t lost to anyone but you and me in a month.”

“Huh. And I was fresh out of the Gauntlet, so what does that say about the rest of the Pack?” Cherry grinned at him, meeting feral tooth for feral tooth.

There was a time when Cherry would have been more horrified by the brutality she saw from the Pack, but it really was contained. For all Mason’s bravado, he did keep the Pack in line and entertained. She’d heard about how Mason had dealt with previous Alphas - tar and feathered. Some of the older Pack members didn’t seem upset by the way he’d handled business so much as griped that it had taken as long as it had.

From what Cherry had seen, Mason was a well-loved leader.

“Get him in the eye! No you asshole, the other one!” he called out with a hearty laugh that was infectious.

Cherry snorted as Robin went for an eye gouge and ended up flat on his ass. Mason gave a sarcastic huff and kicked back to watch the rest of the fight.

Gage wasn’t the biggest guy here, but he was able to use what he had to his advantage. He grabbed Robin by a fistful of hair and tossed him across the ring like a doll.

“Easy to forget that he did his time with the rest of us, huh, Boss?”

Mason’s bravado was gone, replaced with a steady eye on the fight.

“I wouldn’t know.” She answered, not letting her face leave the ring. “He fights like this any time he runs out of bullets.”

“Funny. He didn’t want to so much as lift a finger for Colter.”

Cherry shrugged and watched Gage throw a punch to Robin’s solar plexus.

“Guess he figured out I was worth fighting beside.”

Robin’s hiss and subsequent growl at Gage’s fist digging into the open lacerations across his chest rang through the Amphitheater. Cheering from all sides would have drowned it out if it hadn’t been introduced by a wild yell from Gage that had chilled Cherry’s blood in a way that shouldn’t have been as delicious as it felt.

“Willing to fight over a dog for you too, huh?”

Cherry shrugged, sure he caught it since she was still leaning forward to his relaxed lounge.

“I didn’t ask him for it.”

“Don’t think you had to, boss. The man respects you. That’s worth something, even if Gage is a dick.”

She couldn’t help the grin that pulled at her lips.

Gage held his own, taking blows that would have brought down someone with less experience. Instead, the hits he absorbed fueled something primal in him, and he met each kick with a fist to something that would snap or pop.

When Robin and Gage were still standing but breathing raggedly, Mason stood.

Robin instinctively straightened up to look at his Alpha and  - based on his pleased expression - expected the fight to get called. The expression lasted less than a second before an elbow jammed into his stomach, followed by a headbutt.

Robin fell to the ground just as Mason called the match.

“You fucking asshole!”

Gage shrugged, wiping blood from his brow. “Match wasn’t over. Dog’s mine.”

Mason’s laugh rang through the Amphitheater. It wasn’t condescending, in fact it sounded almost how she’d expect him to laugh at a comedy show. No one else joined in on the laugh, clearly understanding that it wasn’t their place to laugh at the Pack’s Beta.

When Mason did speak again, it was more somber, though the hint of a smile stayed on his face.

“Go get cleaned up before you bring in the bloatflies, Robin. You met your match this time around. Gage. Come get your prize.”

Mason seemed to be in bright spirits for having had his Beta brought down.

“Way to show the kids that we old men still got it,” an elderly man said, clapping Gage on the shoulder as he exited the ring.

Gage just nodded, glanced up to Cherry and went to put his shirt and shoes back on.

Cherry was doing her best to hide her elation, but it was clear that she was pleased from the way she smiled softly at him and then the dog.

Cherry held back the urge to help him with his armor as she walked over to him. She leaned into the fence, watching him not bask in his win.

Then with that smile that melted her to her core, he tilted his head at Dakota sitting stoically on the stage.

“There you go, darlin’.“ His voice was low enough that she could only catch it because her eyes were fixed to his mouth. “Dog’s all yours.”

Cherry blinked at him before slowly turning to the dog across the Amphitheater.

“She’s strong,” Mason told her as she went to the stage. “Give her a couple of days to get used to you, and she’ll do more than kill on command. Until then, hold onto her with this when you’re out and about.”

He passed over a roped that Cherry hadn’t noticed before.

“And you said she’d trained, what commands should I use?”

He ran through the list as Cherry knelt in front of Dakota. She kept eye contact, blinking sparingly. With a snuff, she obeyed most of the commands, so long as Mason was also doing the matching hand movement. A closed fist raised for her to stand, an open palm lowering to the ground to lay down, an open hand to a closed one to signal a sit.

After the exhibit, Cherry raised a hand gingerly to Dakota to sniff.

“Let’s get you some nice treats and a warm place to sleep, huh, girl? Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

Gage had to admit, the mutt was a lot more well behaved than he’d expected. The damn thing had been sitting at the boss’ foot since they’d gotten back.

He’d stood by not needing the boss to patch up a few bruises and scrapes, but she insisted on it.

Once no one else was in sight, she pushed him down - gentle but forceful - into a chair at the table. He sat still as she examined his hands for cuts. Every so often, he fought off a wince when she pressed a damp cloth to split skin.

“I’m tellin’ you, I can do this myself, boss.”

“You did something nice for me. And you didn’t have to.” She turned her eyes to his face, all earnestness and gratitude. “Let me do this for you.”

He didn’t deserve that look in her eyes, but he wanted it nonetheless. That and more.

Letting loose in a fight had helped ease back the stray fantasizing, but there was only so much he could do with her sitting on the table, leaning over him.

He nodded once, scowling over her shoulder at the detective who was once again lingering where he wasn’t wanted.

“One guard dog wasn’t enough, huh? Gonna start a collection?”
Cherry turned a smile to him quickly before looking back to Gage’s knuckles with a furrowed brow. Her focus zeroed in on one of the bruises that blossomed into the space between his index and middle knuckle.

“She’s a lot prettier to look at, don’t you think?” Absently, she patted the dog on the head. “I think Dakota will be a great addition to the gang.”

Gage tried not to look at the boss for too long so his mind wouldn’t wander, but the detective had been staring like a hawk after food.

When she wrapped a strip of clean cloth around his palm, he thought of the way his ma would touch the people she cared about.

Like a lover, the boss had said, but what was that supposed to look like? How had his pa showed affection?

He tried to look confident as he brushed a lock of Cherry’s stray hair behind her ear. She got the look of a radstag sensing trouble. Her chest hitched once in a quick breath, mouth parting just a bit.

Her eyes went wide as he let his fingers linger by her ear.

“Am I clear to go now?” he asked, keeping his voice quiet.

She nodded slowly as she leaned back and out of his reach.

His ego fell just a dip as he stood up, clenching his hand into a fist and relaxing it in smooth repetitions.

It was sore, but the dressing really was unnecessary.

“I’m gonna go finish up those shelves of yours.”

“You shouldn’t strain yourself, Porter. They’re not that important.”

He chuckled at the color deepening across her face

“In that case, how about you run through those commands, and I’ll see if my armor’s done yet.”

She stood too, the dog immediately following as Cherry led the way to the deck where there would be more space for running now that it was almost completely emptied out.

Anything worth a shit, she’d moved into a pile that took up most of inner Fizztop.

Gage had to admit that there was some peace that she brought around the place by virtue of just her messing with it. Sure, it could be aggravating sometimes, but she was actually doing something.

He’d grown indifferent to the way Colter had developed his sedentary life. Where the man had once moved shit to get it just how he liked it, there was no change once he thought it was good enough.

Good enough for who it was for, maybe.

Cherry didn’t seem to settle for good enough. It was never enough for her. If she didn’t have something to work on, she was hunting for it. If she said she wanted something done, she was going to make it happen.

“You know,” a smarmy voice called from a sofa chair by the lockers, “getting your gal a puppy usually isn’t until at least the engagement.”

Gage rolled his eye as he passed.

“She wanted the damn dog, she gets the damn dog.”

“I wouldn’t have taken you for the kind of guy to go in for gestures like that.”

Gage stopped; the conversation wouldn’t end until he actually dealt with the synth instead of playing this goddamned game he was trying to start up again and again. It put the boss on edge which made him grouchy because she wouldn’t stop worrying if she wasn’t comfortable.

“Look. You don’t know anythin’ about me or the situation I’m in. I’ve done what I needed to make sure my head stays right where I like it.”

The detective raised an eyebrow, pursing his lips like he wasn’t impressed.

He didn’t have to be. He just had to get off of Gage’s ass.

“You think the raiders out in the Commonwealth are bad? The last guy in charge had us cooped up right next to people who think a good time involves maimin’ - and I do mean a nice time with friends. Ain’t nothin’ fun about the situation I’ve been in,” he lied.

The Disciples had liked Colter the most at first. And he loved them. The Operators were good for new tools, the Pack for fodder. The Disciples were the ones who could refine his ideas from fun into entertainment.

“As soon as she got here, shit changed.”

“So you really care about her?”

Gage frowned, wind out of his sails.

“I don’t know what to call it. I ain’t made a secret about that with her. I can tell you I wouldn’t have brought a couple of kids here if I didn’t think she could actually keep ‘em. I can tell you that I wouldn't have put in so much effort if she wasn't worth the trouble.”

The detective nodded, as though that answered some other unspoken question.

“You’re taking an innocent woman and turning her into one of you.”

“I mean, sure, she’d have potential as a merc," Gage said offhanedly, "but I don’t think that’s what she wants.”

“That really the story you want to stick to?”

Gage shrugged.

“It’s the truth.”

“You’ve been stuck here for a year because of a contract,” he said flatly. “Didn’t think to leave in the night. Supposedly the people around here listen to you.”

“Only so far as they listened to Colter. Colter’s dead.”

“A death you orchestrated.”

“You think I’m fucked if I stay. You think I’m fucked for the way I’m tryin’ to get out. Ain’t no answer you’re gonna actually listen to, so how about you let me get on with my day?”

“Right. To your child laborers.”

“That’s how you wanna see it, fine. But they don’t work for me. They work for her. Almost like they know they have skills and want to repay the person who stopped them from tryin’ to join up with a buncha cold blooded murderers who would sooner toss ‘em into the Gauntlet or keep ‘em as slaves.”

He didn’t care to see if the detective had anything else to say. The elevator was waiting.

Gage looked over his new armor with a critical eye. The work was admittedly pretty fucking good.

His original armor was supposed to just cut a mean figure. Did half of the work for him. Custom armor was a big deal for a raider, especially if someone else made it for you.

This took all the elements of his armor that was functional and made it look somehow more intimidating.

“Mr. Gage?” Pins looked up at him with those big eyes of theirs that hoped for even a crumb of praise.

“Lemme finish lookin’ it over first, kid. Ain’t got the same words for you that the boss did.”

“Cause you’re a crusty piece of-“

Gage didn’t even have to look to take a good-natured swipe at the back of Needles’ head.

He wouldn’t admit it to anyone under the worst tortures they could imagine, but he did like the little mongrel. She had a mouth on her that would get her in trouble if she didn’t learn how to rein it in, but she had the attitude she’d need to survive this life.

The first floor room had been turned into a workshop close to the elevator - the kids said it was less effort when they needed to rush up and down for meals. In the corner by the entry door, Pins had started piling toys that traders had passed on.

Turns out that the boss bringing the kids in and keeping them herself had given her a pretty big boost of morale in their books. Probably because it reminded them that she was human instead of raider. Technically.

Behind the counter, the boss had made Gage set up a pair of those metal shelves in that laid out position to make a rigged up platform for mattresses on a sheet of plywood. The kids had sewn up old shirts and dresses to make a patchwork curtain that blocked the view of their living space.
Pins had said it looked more professional that way.

Not for the first time, Gage wondered more about what they had lived like before all of this.

“Y’all had parents that took care of you, right?”

Pins nodded in his periphery as he brought the leather up against him, checking that the shoulders wouldn’t pinch.

“How’d they act?”

“Why do you wanna know, Mr. Gage?”

“Cause the boss has a cover story for while we’re out, and I figured I could get an idea from y’all about what she might be lookin’ for. Not that it's y'all's business.”

“Momma was really nice. She would make us breakfast in the morning.”

“She liked it when we brought her flowers,” Needles said, none of her fire in her. “And Dad would fold her paper ones when the winter came.”

“Dad is a good man. He’s just not very strong.”

“Yeah. I’m familiar with the concept,” Gage muttered into his inspection of the way the metal strapped into place against the pants.

“There was stuff he was really good at, though. He was really good at making stuff for us. Momma did a lot of the metalwork, but the details were all Dad.”

“They were happy.”

Gage sighed.

His folks had been like that for a while too.

But that doesn’t mean shit when a raider gang is passing through. Unless you got a couple of crazies or genuine badasses in town that gave a shit about you living or dying, there wasn’t anything about love or kindness that saved you from losing everything to your name.

“Mr. Gage?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“Do you think that Cherry Boss would like it if we had flowers for her when you get back?”

He stared at his hands, still loosely wrapped up from scrapes that would have healed up easy with a stimpak. All of that hassle and effort because she’d looked at that dog with the saddest eyes he’d seen from her that wasn’t about her past.

“Yeah. Don’t tell her I told you, but she’s a sap for that kinda thing.”

Pins flapped their hands and gave that blinding smile.

“Hey, Old Man,” Needles said, leaning her shoulder into his.

Very few people were allowed in his blind spot. He knew for a fact that he was getting soft for letting this kid into it. But even as he thought that, she slid an eyepatch into his hand.

The front had a crudely embroidered outline of a bottle cap in bright red thread on a field of black leather. The side that was supposed to go against the eye was lined with padded cotton.

“There was some extra scraps from the boss’ outfit. It’s got a good luck charm in it. A paper clover. So you don’t die.”

He snorted a little, but lifted it up to get a better look at it.

“Pins normally does the decorative stuff, so yeah it sucks, but so do you.”

Gage unlatched the thick slab of metal he’d been using since re-confiscating it once the kids had finished their drafts of the new armor.

Carefully, he moved it to his right eye, brushing over the burns that had healed into an angry knot of flesh. The leather didn’t cover all of the scarring, but maybe that was for the better.

That night, the dog sat at her feet like it owned the place. Actually, that wasn’t right. The dog was laid down like it had always been there. It should have pissed him off a little. The way Mason could turn something he’d done into a big show of faith.

But, Gage had to admit it. The dog was a good one. She kept her eyes on the detective whenever he moved. She didn’t trust him either.

If it hadn’t been for the knowledge that the dog would probably bite Gage’s hand off, he’d give her some belly rubs just for that.

He turned his attention to the boss.

Cherry.

Her.

She was sitting at the table, pouring over notes and maps and anything she could get her hands on like she could commit it to memory.

He didn’t know who she really was in moments like these. When there was no one else for her to put a show on. Just him and her and the space that they existed in.

The detective was in the other room, reading some book she’d found for him. She’d been real kind with it, all smiles and careful outreached hands.

But as soon as she had gotten into the kitchen that was slowly turning into her actual workspace, the mask dropped and her eyes turned dull.

“You need anythin’?”

She shook her head, not looking away from a pile of notes that she was shifting through.

With the other hand she crooked a finger, motioning him to come closer.

He didn’t want to say it was weird now. But the way she’d looked over not getting to fight for the dog had done something in him.

To him.

For him.

She hadn’t asked for the damn thing, but she wanted it. And he was supposed to make sure she got everything she wanted.

When he was close enough to tower over her, she just reached a hand over her shoulder, expectant and patient.

Slowly, not sure if it was right, not sure of anything and therefore, not liking it, he put his hand in hers.

Sure enough, there was the sound of metal in the doorway. From that view it would look like they had been holding hands or looking over something together.

Her head turned to face Gage and the freckles on her nose and cheeks fell into the divots of her lips smiling up at him.

“Mind getting me something to drink?”

“Sure, darlin.”

It wasn’t supposed to be easy, calling her that. He’d meant it as a joke the first time. He could have made it more of one. But instead, he was leaning into it. Into her.

He was letting her lead this dance into something that was most definitely dangerous.

But still.

Her hand wrapping around his. Fingers light as he tightens his grip. Moving and breathing and taking and giving-

He huffed to the fridge, pulled out the pitcher that he’d seen her bleach and bleach and bleach into oblivion until he was able to see his reflection all around.

The dark mirror of him in the mutfruit juice frowned back at him looking confused.

This wasn’t anything he would do for anyone. But this was the boat they were in. And somehow that summed up what the relationship - if you could call it that - was. It was constant jumping from one boat into another with no signs of shore.

But it wasn’t something that he really could find in him to regret. It was more interesting than what he’d been doing.

How many nights were spent just existing?

Now there was something to haunt them instead.

“I was just coming in to check on you before you head to bed,” the detective said with that tone that was just shy of condescension.

“You know, place for the dog set up and all that.”

“No,” she responded, putting a hand on the dog’s head and looking over to the synth with a gentle smile, “I’m thinking I’ll take her out with us. See how well trained she is on the road.”

The detective shrugged, his big coat billowing with the movement.

Gage returned to his place at her side with a glass of juice for each of them. In a way that he hoped would look natural, he lounged against the counter, tangling his fingers into a loose wave that had escaped her hair tie.

“I’ll trust you on that and leave you to it then.”

The man left without so much as a backwards glance, though before turning, Gage caught the frown stretching down his face.

Carefully, Gage tucked the hair he was messing with behind Cherry’s ear and slowly so as to not make any noise,  withdrew his hand.

If it bothered her, she didn't say anything. Her face had gotten stiff when the detective hinted at leaving the mutt behind, and damn Gage for a sucker, he'd reacted before thinking.

Steadily, focused, he grabbed his glass and downed it. He didn’t even care that it was bitter.

“Bedtime, boss. Got a long day tomorrow.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

“The fuck you will.”

Her smile was infectious. Mischievous.

Downright deadly.

“Five more minutes?”

“You got five minutes to get your ass in that hammock before I put it there myself.”

Her smile widened, sincerity wrinkling the corners of her eyes as they danced with laughter she wasn’t letting out.

It was a sound he was getting used to.

Liked even.

And then the grin was falling. Her face turning to the doorway.

“He thinks I’m some kind of lady or something. A dame even. It’s… weird.”

Gage didn’t even bother hiding his scowl as he snorted.

“Even if you were a lady before, you sure as hell ain’t anymore. Got you some muscle and an attack dog. That’s as raider as it gets.”

The corner of her mouth twitched, but the smile didn’t return.

“You didn’t have to get her for me, you know.”

“You kiddin’ me? You would’ve cried about it all night and you know it.”

There, just a little more.

“In fact, I bet you would be waxin’ poetic right now about her like she was the best damn thing you’ve seen all week.”

“Well, the only other thing I’ve been looking at is work and you.”

What she really meant was it had been a week full of her griping about being locked up all day because she couldn’t stay still for one goddamn minute.

She hadn’t been looking at him really. Not like that. The stutter in his gut didn’t care though.

“If I’d let you out, you’d have busted those stitches and these hands only get one use of doin’ shit neatly each week.”

There it was, that crinkly, freckly smile that would sucker anyone into believing there was something - anything - worth doing if it was pointed at them. If that nosy son-of-a-bitch walked in, there would be little doubt that she cared about Gage.

“And here I figured you just knew better than to mess up a lady’s face.”

He held out a hand and flexed it experimentally. One finger had been broken a few years back, his nails were dirty, it looked more like stubs of meat stabbed into a ham when compared to the dexterous and nimble hands he’d seen pick locks and float across keyboards.

“Nah. You just got a lucky streak.”

And there was that laugh. Not beautiful by a long shot. It was a cackle and a burst from a shotgun. Put it was pure and unshackled. It was her without filter.

When she settled back into the quiet, she started turning back to her work.

“I don’t think so, boss. Five minutes’re up.”

“Are not!”

Gage shrugged, smirking.

“Yup. Bedtime. Ass meet rope.”

Her face whipped to him. Her eyes were wide. Mouth just barely open like she was about to say something snarky and got lost on the way. The color in her cheeks bloomed and melted into the rest of her.

There was something about her in that moment that made him really want to take her right then and there. Consequences be damned, there was something she was doing to him. Getting under his skin and making a home in his blood.

And seeing that surprise in her made the blood rush somewhere that was going to cause more problems than just a quick run to somewhere private.

“Bed.”

She nodded slowly, standing from her chair.

“I’m gonna go change,” she muttered as she brushed past him.

Her untouched glass of juice sat on the counter beside her notebook and maps.

With a too steady hand that he had to focus to keep smooth, he closed her notebook.

But not before seeing a brief paragraph with his name in it.

It wasn’t exactly his business. But it was his neck.

Weighing his chances, he took a quick glance over his shoulder. He didn’t hear anyone coming up.

The notebook was small, easy to fit into a pocket of her backpack. Not the one she’d been keeping before.

Flipping back to the last page with any writing in it, it was a simple entry.

Day : 18
Porter is going to make everything better. I know it. He’s smarter than the others gave him credit for. He doesn’t like Valentine though. Doesn’t trust him. Personally, I think he’s worried that I’ll go back on my promise, but I don’t think Diamond City will be for me. If I ever did leave and run off, I know it would be with him over anyone. I trust him to have my back.

Trust her to be vague in a fake journal entry when there was a snoop around. Flipping through, it looked like there were backlogged entries.

Pages had even been smudged, wrinkled, folded back in corners, marked with ink blots and finger stains.

It was a good fake.

The dog looked up at him with drowsy eyes from her makeshift bed that she hadn’t been ordered to leave.

“You get a bad feeling from this?”

The dog snuffed once like the idea of thinking too deeply about anything other than attack or food was too much of a job.

“Yeah. Me too.”

Quickly, he packed everything away before there was a chance to get caught with something incriminating. 

Chapter Text

The day was primarily walking. Valentine seemed to know where to go to avoid supermutants, which Cherry now had context for. She had seen them at a distance, hulking over cars and carrying what Valentine ensured were sledgehammers. The idea of someone being able to swing a hammer like that without extreme effort was horrifying on some level.

When she and Gage had used one for the plan with the Nukalurks, there had been breaks in between uses because it was simply too slow and cumbersome.

She was able to see the speed of the supermutants’ movement as the group stalked through underbrush to avoid line of sight.

“Keep goin’ but not too quick.” Gage had whispered as they went along the cracked and faded asphalt, “If you catch their attention, you’ll likely get a suicider on your ass.”

“A suicider?”

Cherry had continued to shift her weight, but only because he was pressing a hand to her back to keep her going.

“Fuckers with bombs tied around one arm. Only goal is to get into your space and blow themselves up.”

“No fucking way.”

“I ever lied to you about what these assholes out here are likely to be like?”

Cherry grimaced and continued the journey, following Valentine and Gage’s instructions to sprint or hide as they went.

By the time they hit Boston proper, it was less about speed and more about stealth. Supermutants were camped out all over the city, it turned out. There were infestations of them, raiders, and ghouls, not to mention roaming packs of wild dogs that had mutated into the same things that had graced the Pack’s amphitheater and the outskirts of populated areas.

Dakota was less than pleased about crossing into the dogs’ territories, but like Mason had promised, she was smart and fierce.

Quiet wasn’t necessary when they were moving so much as carefully following Valentine’s lead.

Soon enough, they were passing arrows painted onto ruins and signs promising clean water, food, people. Diamond City.

Slowly, it dawned on Cherry where exactly they were heading. As they approached the gate, she stifled a giggle that was threatening to become hysterics.

It was a baseball park. The baseball park.

“The Great Green Jewel,” Valentine said fondly, “Diamond City.”

She broke.

It started at the base of her throat that morphed into a snort. Then a series of inhales that were never as short as the exhales which in turned became gasps for air.

The laughter fell out of her in a manic stream.

As she doubled over, failing to really breathe, the tears started to fall.

Porter was immediately by her side, a hand firmly on her shoulder and the other clenched around the dose of Calmex.

“C’mon. Focus up.”

“But,” Cherry fought to say, “it’s just so fucking funny. America’s passtime! I-”

I could have brought Shaun here. In another time, I would have brought him to a game. Taught him how to play.

“What’s my name?”

Porter Gage. My right hand.

Only laughter was able to make it past her lips.

“Where are you right now?”

A place that somehow survived. It shouldn’t be funny. It’s not funny.

“Everything okay with her?”

Porter didn’t take his eyes off of her. Neither of them answered, but she did point to the stadium, struggling for breath as her laughter was morphing into sobs.

“What year is it?”

She pointed at her Pipboy.

I’m here I’m here - the rest of Boston is bombed out and empty - I’m here I’m here - this place is still standing - I’m here I’m here I’m here.

Cherry looked to the ground, trying to pull air back where it needed to be.

Dakota was on full alert at Cherry’s heels. But even as they were looking each other in the eye, Cherry was seeing past that into something that was all consuming.

A near faceless boy with her hair and Nate’s eyes lined up a bat at a tee-ball game in a park sandlot that a ghost audience watched from bleachers. Nate and Cherry sitting on either side of the boy at the stadium - this stadium - a hotdog dripping with ketchup and relish flying into the air as he stood to cheer. Nate’s face morphing into shock and then pain as splashes of ketchup become blood staining his chest. Nate’s eyes widening on an otherwise unrecognizable child that’s too old to be hers, but somehow he is he is he is he is.

“Look at me.”

Cherry snapped her face to Porter again. He held the syringe up so it was right in front of her eyes.

“Yes or no? Do you need it?”

Gasping around now more of a silent scream and frayed vocals, Cherry shook her head once, then stopped and nodded aggressively.

“Alright, you or me?”

When she didn’t immediately move, Porter grabbed her by the waist and moved so her back was pressed up against his torso. With a quick jab, the needle pierced her jeans and thigh.

The world slowed around her as the pain bloomed into a rush of blood turning cold at the injection site. The chem slid itself into her blood and muscle, relaxing her like a rag-doll in Porter’s arms.

Even as she went limp, she didn’t worry about falling.

Where her physical right hand was becoming more related to noodles than flesh, her metaphorical right hand was firmly holding her in place.

She was safe.

He was here.

Valentine watched the whole ordeal and from this angle, she was able to see him moving like molasses through air that was resisting his every move. Cherry blinked, and he was pushing a button on the other side of the clearing. His words were mumbled and slurred in his reduced speed.

Almost as soon as the rubbery feeling had gripped her body, it was replaced with an intimate understanding of each muscle aching to be put to use.

From how Cherry was pinned, she was able to see the gate lift. She became hyper aware of the people inside.

Guards.

Three.

Armed.

They can’t stop me from going in. I need to find Kellogg. I need to get to Shaun.

A guard rushed to Valentine.

Hand careful not to touch the trigger.

Let me go, I could get them from here. They wouldn’t see it coming. Drop that one, get to cover. Pick them off from behind the rubble.

Valentine was yelling something, but Cherry was too tired to make it out. Something in her nerves were simultaneously too sluggish to move but too wired to stay still.

“Breathe with me, darlin’.”

Porter’s voice in her ear. Low. Confident. Coherent.

Something slow and strangled pulled from her throat at an attempt at a noise.

“Easy.”

More people running out.

Something sharp pulling at pant legs.

Dog at heels.

Teeth interlacing with denim.

Teeth pressed against skin.

Not sinking into it, but firmly touching.

Callouses interlacing with noodles.

Callouses pressed against neck.

Not sinking into it, but firmly touching.

“Heel, Dakota. Dammit, Cherry.”

Dogs at her side.

Small one against the ground beside her.

Red on the ground?

Yellow on the ground.

Black on the ground.

“I-”

‘m here.

“Don’t talk. Breathe for me, darlin.”

One, two, three. In.

The breath ripped itself from a mouth that wanted to scream.

One, two, three. Out.

“That’s right. Slow, now.”

“Can’t-”

feel my arms. I can’t feel my back. I need to lie down.

On the ground not enough.

Needing to burrow.

Noodles failing to squeeze callouses.

Skin failing to find dog.

No. Because he’s here. I’m safe.

Red blinked.

Her face was to the sky.

Yellow looking down with a firm eye, fear hiding behind calm.

Iris digging into her.

Focus on the eye. On the sky. On the clouds.

On the storm.

“Green.” A wheeze of a sound.

Plastic on tongue.

Noodles still clenched around callouses.

Speed returned to a coherent flow, speeding up in bursts.

Rough fur against noodles turning back into finger tips.

Rough callouses against her palm.

“The doc’s here.”

Another wheeze.

“Don’t try talking,” a voice saying, stern but not cruel. “We need to balance out the dose you just got and you’ll need all your energy.”

Porter’s face turning to a person Cherry couldn’t see.

“It was the dose that our doc gave us.”

“It was enough to bring down a supermutant.”

Porter’s eye sharp and away in the time that it took Cherry to process the green electricity piercing through the sky.

“We need to get inside, quickly,” the voice after sky drowned in a scream overpowering the echo of Cherry’s breathing.

When she woke up, the room was too bright. Her throat hurt. Her leg was killing her. Something in her hand was hurting, and her dry tongue tasted bitter.

With a ragged breath, she tried to stand, but found herself bound to a gurney.

“Woah, easy there.”

Her hand was speaking to her. No. Something next to her hand. Something blurry in her vision.

“The doc’s got you rigged up with something to balance you back out. Swear to all things in hell, I’m gonna kill that woman when we get back.”

She knew this voice; it was safe.

“She awake?” A familiar but less comforting voice.

“Yeah. Not sure if she can actually hear me, but she’s not cryin’ anymore.”

“Faces like ours, we shouldn’t be surprised when they do, huh?”

Safety gave a dry laugh.

The pain in her hand disappeared like it had never been there and was replaced with a bumpy texture that fit in her palm. Focusing on that - the bumpy thread lines dipping in and out of thick leather? - pulled away some of the panic.

“Head,” she said, trying her best to wrestle her thick tongue down flat.

Something warm and rough pressed into her forehead.

“Fever’s gone. Your head hurt or somethin’?” Safety sounded worried, but calm.

“Head,” she repeated.

“I’ll get the doctor,” Familiar said, further away.

A door closed somewhere.

“This is why I don’t like this shit. Look at you. You’re fallin’ apart here.”

The warm on her forehead moved to her left cheek, running from just above the corner of her mouth to her eyebrow then across to her temple before repeating the motion.

It was comforting. The world turned back into something crisp as she focused on the steady pattern. She mirrored the motion with her thumb across the leather in her hand.

Up from the cheek, slide to the temple, back down to the cheek. Up from the cheek, slide to the temple, back down to the cheek. Up from the-

Those are my scars. He’s trying to calm me down.

Who?

Safety.

The door opened and closed again.

Footsteps. One set heavy, the other squeaking against tile.

Had it always smelled like antiseptic in here?

“She’s breathin’ normal.”

“I’ll need you to take a step back, sir,” said a new voice that smelled like a hospital.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, doc?” Familiar asked, laced with doubt. “I don’t think she’s been this calm since we brought her down.”

“I need to check her vitals again. To have such a violent reaction, it’s a miracle she’s alive, never mind the dosage.”

“I’m just gonna be right to the side, alright. Ain’t leavin’ you.”

She tried to reassure him, tried reaching out the palm with leather out to him, but nothing moved. He had made the migraine go away. Made the light dimmer and the sounds less like nails in her ears.

“I’m going to remove the bindings. Please stay laying down, Miss Mendoza,” said Antiseptic.

The tightness around her ribs loosened. Then her thighs. Then her ankles. Her arms stayed pinned to her sides.

“I’m going to check your heartbeat now.”

The process wasn’t so terrifying now that everything was less. She focused on the circle of thread forming ridges for her thumb to follow as Antiseptic worked. When he was done, he removed the arm bindings too.

“She seems stable. Heart rate is much less erratic. Thankfully, we didn’t have to deal with cardiac arrest. You mentioned that this was a prescription?”

“Yeah. Doc said it was for somethin’ like trauma stress.”

“Do you still have the instructions?”

There was a shuffling sound.

“There were also instructions on how to make it from a chems dealer. Didn’t like it, but he hadn’t made anything that killed anyone.”

“No, the levels in these ingredients are sound.” Antiseptic spoke quickly, but clearly. “All of the proportions are in line with the expected mixture for something to ease panic attacks and symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder. However, the amount that’s shown in this dosage is more what I would expect for putting something down. I can show you how much you should give her in the case of another attack.”

There was silence. Cherry tried to turn towards Safety.

“Miss Mendoza,” Antiseptic said, drawing Cherry’s eyes up to the ceiling. “Would you want to continue with carrying this chem as treatment?”

She tried to shake her head and nod at the same time. Whatever had done this to her had clearly made her disappear for a bit, but she wasn’t stuck anymore. Or at least not in the same way.

“I don’t think she’ll be able to answer right away,” Familiar replied instead.

“I understand, but I’m afraid that neither of you are qualified to give any instruction in her stead.”

Her hand opened to drop the leather. If anything to let them know that she was able to hear.

Safety was the one who grunted with movement. His face was in front of her again. Everything about it sharpened: the harsh frown where scar kissed stubble, the light brown furrowed brows that squinted the eyes - one with a hazel green iris and the other a white mass surrounded by welts burned into flesh.

“You there, darlin’?”

“Here.”

Porter’s eyebrows relaxed as he pushed his eyepatch back into her palm. His shoulders sagged in relief.

“The doc said that fiddlin’ with somethin’ could help ground you. Figured this would be useful while we waited out the storm.”

“‘m ‘kay.”

“The hell you are. You nearly-” he quickly clamped his mouth shut.

“Can you sit up, Miss Mendoza?”

Cherry tried to nod, but found that her body was too heavy, even now that the gurney straps didn’t hold her down.

Porter’s arm was around her waist in a moment, carefully pulling her up and propping her back against the wall. From here, she was able to see the one door coming in and out of a cinder-block walled room. There was the gurney she’d been laying on as well as a clean twin bed, a cobbled together night stand, and a threadbare rug on the ground.

From the proximity to the mattress and the clear exhaustion in Porter’s eyes, Cherry was able to tell that however long that she’d been incapacitated, he hadn’t really rested.

Valentine and someone Cherry didn’t recognize stood nearby. Each of them held grim expressions.

“We uh…” Valentine started, “thought it best to get you a room here at Dugout Inn. I did some digging through my files while you were out-”

“Now is not the time, Detective Valentine. I have questions for my patient.”

The stranger took a step closer, and when Porter didn’t stand to threaten him, Cherry let her nerves rest.

“I’m Doctor Sun. I’ve been treating you since you came to Diamond City yesterday afternoon. These two… gentlemen,” he said with  glance at Porter, “have explained your situation to me. While I find difficultly believing all the details, Detective Valentine has brought me stranger cases.”

“She can’t talk right now. She could barely move her hand a second ago, doc.” Porter was grouchily sitting beside her on the mattress so his head was beside hers, blind spot toward her direction.

“I understand that, but she seems lucid enough to respond at the least.” The doctor turned back to Cherry. “Are you aware that you were drugged by this man?”

“Not.” Cherry managed to whisper in a voice that was too hoarse to really be hers.

“Whether it was his intent or not, he was the one who administered the dosage. Are you comfortable with him continuing to stay?”

Cherry wanted to nod vigorously, but all that achieved was her head tilting forward precariously before Porter carefully lifted it back.

“She’s head over heels for this guy, doc. I’ve seen it with my own two eyes.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that she’s the patient and her comfort takes precedence.”

“Dak-?” Cherry managed to get out before her tongue floundered on the sound.

A bottle of water was pressed to her lips, tilted just enough for  a thin stream to fall into her mouth.

“The dog’s fine. She’s at the detective’s place until you’re back up.”

She sighed in relief, swallowing the water with carefully measured movements of muscles that were very, very upset with her.

Speaking hurt her raw throat and her tongue still felt too numb to be useful.

“Stay?”

Porter kept his face on her when he said in full emphasis, “Ain’t left your side yet.”

He brushed hair out of her face, taking a moment to run his knuckles over her newest scar.

“That good enough for you?” He asked over his shoulder.

Dr. Sun sighed hollowly.

“It’ll have to suffice.”

The doctor was frowning, but he did take a pencil out from behind his ear to put it down to a stack of papers in a folder.

“Alright, Miss Mendoza. I got as much information as I could from these two, but there are things I’ll need your help with before I can make any real adjustments to what you’ve been prescribed.”

“‘Kay.”

“Do you have a family history of any mental illnesses aside from the described depression and anxiety?”

“Schiz-,” she managed to rasp with effort, pausing when she needed to take more water.

“Schizophrenia. Alright. A common enough illness. Have you shown symptoms of anything else?”

“OCD,” she whispered, instinctively signing the letters around the leather in her hand, keeping it tucked into the palm.

“Alright. And the post-traumatic stress disorder. Is this something recent?”

She hesitated before slowly pushing out her sentence. “The bomb.”

“For her, it’s been less than a month,” Valentine offered. “The bombs that is. As in the great big mushroom cloud bombs. She was able to tell me all about the moments leading into the event, with clarity and details that pre-war ghouls have shown.”

“Noted. Mr. Gage has given me examples of recent behavior, including the events leading to you seeking medical help. Do you have any history of recreational chem use?”

“No.”

“And during your pregnancy, did you have an increase in negative thoughts or thoughts of self-harm?”

Another pause.

“Yes.”

“Noted. I understand that you’re here in order to locate your missing infant?”

Cherry was more than relieved by the clipped non-judgement.

“Yes.”

Porter’s arms tightened as he looked from Cherry to the doctor.

“And you’re positive that your child was actually taken?”

Valentine and Porter’s beginning of what seemed to be a conversation that had already happened drowned out Cherry’s response.

Whatever they were trying to say turned to soup in her mind as she felt a fuzzy spiral take hold. Almost as soon as it did, though, a calloused hand was on her face, turning it towards Porter’s.

“Stay with me, darlin’.”

His empty eye bored into her as fiercely as his functioning one did. It was ferocious and terrifying and so, so inviting.

Something in Cherry snapped. She leaned into the touch, giving herself over to the stream of emotions that cut through the numb understanding that she’d very nearly would have died.

Absolutely would have if her break hadn’t happened right outside a city.

“I keep telling you, Sun. Your bedside manner is gonna be the death of you.”

A sigh.

“Apologies, Miss Mendoza, I didn’t mean to imply anything of ill will.”

But Cherry’s face was now buried in Porter’s shoulder as sob after sob was the only thing that let her move her body.

“How about we give them some space, doc?” Valentine paused. “She’s been through a lot.”

Dully, Cherry was aware of the door opening and closing again, but all that she could functionally process was that her throat was upset at her again for allowing the wracking sobs to pile out of her.

Chapter Text

It took another hour before Cherry was able to independently move her limbs again. Another hour after that before she was able to speak in full sentences - though it still hurt like hell.

There was a point when Porter helped her into the bed that was significantly more comfortable than the gurney. For the most part, she’d been sitting up and reviewing notes on her Pipboy. There were moments she was sleeping and moments where she staring deeply into the screen like it could tell her everything she needed to know.

“I just want to get the dose and correct instructions before I get back to what I need to do.”

“As I’ve tried telling you, Miss Mendoza, you’ll need more recovery time. While you do have your faculties back, I would like to ensure that there are no negative side effects to the addictol.”

Porter had long since stepped out of the conversation unless it was absolutely needed. He had tried to hide it, but his exhaustion had caught up with him. He was laying down on the mattress beside Cherry, not sleeping but not far from it if he could just get a second without Doctor Sun or Valentine coming in to check on them.

“I won’t be leaving Diamond City right away. I’ll be here or with Detective Valentine the entire time. I’ll even check in before I leave town.”

Doctor Sun sighed as he shook his head.

“Alright. That will have to do. I’ll get to work on making you a more shelf-stable supply of a correct dosage of Calmex. I would suggest that you come to me if you need more. While I can… appreciate the service that chem dealers provide… for medical treatments, doctors are best. Especially with serious treatments like this.”

“I understand. Thank you.”

With that, the doctor slipped out to whatever the rest of Dugout Inn was.

“I’ll lock the door,” Cherry said, starting to stand. “You can get some actual sleep before we go out.”

“You may as well sleep too.” He muttered, “It’s too late to do much else.”

Porter rolled over, not grumpy exactly, but definitely more guarded than normal.

“I’m sorry. About all that.”

When he didn’t respond, Cherry slowly made her way to the door, careful not to slip on the rug that felt like pin pricks against her bare feet.

“I’m gonna kill her.”

“Who?”

“Who do you think? Tried to use me to kill you. Like hell. If I'm killin' you, it's on my own goddamn terms.”

Cherry gave her best smile, but it faltered when her eyes fully met Porter’s.

She could count on one hand how many times she’d seen his face entirely bare of both eyepatch and emotion. There was no anger clouding him, no revenge curling his lips.

It was a cold matter of fact. He was going to kill Mackenzie when they got back - assuming she was there at all.

Cherry sighed as she moved back to him, kneeling on the floor instead of sitting next to him. It was almost like pouting, the way he squinted at her, his lips pursed.

“She’s the only doctor we’ve got in Nuka-World. Kill her before winter, and we’re in the hole.”

“So we’ll kidnap someone while we’re out.”

Cherry smiled ruefully, “Oh yeah, let me get the grocery list and add that. One surgeon also capable with internal medicine and putting up with raiders.”

He was biting at the inside of his cheek to keep the smirk from his face.

“I’m okay now, Porter. For now, that’s all that matters. This doctor has no reason to kill me. I'm sure there would be an investigation in a town like this.”

Porter nodded once before sighing. He dragged a hand across his lower face, making the callouses on his palms scrape against stubble. The result was a pleasant brushing sound that made Cherry want to hear it over and over again.

“The detective’s got a lotta pull around here. We ain’t payin’ for the room, and there wasn’t anyone putting up a fuss about him when we came in. Hell, the bartender seemed downright chummy with him.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Cherry nodded. “If he’s the only one who looks into things that local police won’t.”

Porter snorted.

“It ain’t police. It’s mercenaries with a loyalty to a cushy life and a paycheck. A place like this, I bet whatever holdin’ space they got is full of drunks more often than not.”

“Probably.”

Cherry shifted uncomfortably onto the balls of her feet. It felt odd to be in what had started to amount to her casual clothes. At some point, someone - most likely Porter - had pulled her armor off, leaving her in jeans and a T-shirt.

Most of Porter’s armor was also removed.

She was finally full struck by what she was looking at.

“You aren’t wearing your eyepatch.”

“It’s in your pocket. Wanted to make sure you held onto it until you were back on your feet.”

Cherry beat back the choking emotion building up in her throat.

“Getting sentimental, Porter?”

There was a long silence where neither of them so much as shifted. He was still facing the ceiling, his eyes closed behind fingers that sprawled across them.

“The kid said it was a good luck charm. Figured you needed it.” He exhaled into his palm. “For a lucky son of a bitch, you sure as hell get into trouble.”

Cherry could have said something about his growing attachment to Pins and Needles. Instead, she made Porter turn around and shimmied out of her jeans, looking through her bag for her clean set of sleeping clothes. If she had the opportunity to sleep inside on what had been a clean mattress, she was damn well going to enjoy the sensation as much as she could without adding in a shower.

"You know, something like this could make a lot of money for us at Nuka-Town."

"A hotel?"

"Yeah. Once we get everything up and running, there would be more tourism and trading. I bet we could swing it if we got some work taken care of. Convert some of the old carney booths into individual rooms. They wouldn't be big but-"

"You nervous?"

Cherry's mouth dried out again.

"That obvious?"

"Don't got to be. We're gonna drag the asshole back to get what's comin' to him. You'll have your kid, still don't know what you're plannin' on doin' with him when we gotta clear out the last two parks and shit."

"I... I really hadn't thought about that yet."

"Guess the kids could watch him for the few days while we're out. You keep crankin' them out the way we've been runnin'."

Cherry nodded, clearing her throat.

"I'm done. You can turn around again."

He sighed as he rolled over to look at her.

She must have looked like hell, all things considered. She'd tried finger combing her hair, but there were knots that she needed a brush for. She was in a too big Cappy shirt and theme park pajama pants that had to be rolled up three times at the hems. Her nails were bitten down as short as possible to keep them from getting in the way while she was working. Over the course of a few weeks, the careful image that she'd maintained for work had been torn apart and used as kindling to keep her alive.

“Scoot over," she said, a shiver building from bare feet against the concrete ground. "It's cold as hell.”

Porter obliged, pushing himself against the opposite edge enough so there was a space for Cherry to lay down in a not-quite-ball on the edge of the bed.

His back to the wall, chest to her, hand fallen from his face.

Eyes on her.

Eyes on him.

“Thank you. For staying.”

“‘Course,” he said gruffly a hint of his usual sarcasm climbing back into place, “couldn’t very well abandon my lover just because I accidentally drugged her into oblivion.”

Cherry snorted, not letting herself pay attention to the lie they had built between them. Not to their proximity as he curled his spine to give her a little more room so she could scoot into the space where his arms could have easily wrapped around her. Not to the jittery butterflies when she did edge her way inwards, until her forehead was pushed up against his chest.

It was the most physical touch that she’d felt in a long while that was just contact without expectation or malice. It wasn’t for the purpose of grounding or focusing. It wasn't either of them angling for anything other than a little bit of a reprieve from the cold that had been setting in with the incoming winter.

It was just skin against dirt stained shirt. It was just a reluctant chin resting against the crown of her head.

Even with the both of them stiffly laying there, it was comforting as the reality of the day settled around Cherry’s bones.

“This is the kinda thing I’m gonna have to get used to when we’re out here?”

There was only a hint of snark in his voice, but it was overly clear that Porter was going to be in a bad mood until Mackenzie paid for what she did.

“Probably. I thought playing with my hair was a nice touch,” Cherry replied with a matching apathy.

Though she knew hers was an affectation.

She didn’t know what it was for him.

“Figured. My pa used to do that a lot.”

“Play with your mom’s hair?”

“She hated it. Or pretended to. Always did it when she was focused on somethin’.”

Cherry let the silence sit between them. Instead of filling it with burning distractions of questions and answers, she just let her yawn crawl into the space between them.

Porter moved his arm that was pressed against the mattress so that it pillowed her head. He cautiously, stiffly draped his other arm over her waist, hand holding loosely onto the edge of the bed to keep her from rolling off in her sleep.

With each minute that passed, they both found some semblance of relaxation in the position, shifting every so often to get more comfortable.

A smile pulled onto her lips as she tilted her head up to look at Porter. His eyes were closed now - his breathing even, but not the way it sounded when he was actually sleeping.

“I won’t stop you from getting even,” she murmured, “but only if there’s a decent replacement for her. As pissed as I am about the turn of events, we can’t afford to let an assistant take over right now. We need to have more people trained up for medical shit anyways.”

Porter grunted once, but Cherry felt the tension in his arms build.

“I appreciate that you want to kill for me, but I’ve got a dog for that now. You’re around to keep me out of trouble.”

“The day you’re out of trouble is the day you’re in the ground.”

“What a good girl!” Cherry crooned as she approached Dakota. The rottweiler was sitting sternly in the middle of the detective agency, eyes focused on the opened door.

The only sign that the dog was pleased to see Cherry was the thump of a tail against the cracked tile of the floor.

“Did you behave, Dakota?”

Cherry held a hand out along with a piece of jerky. Dakota’s eyes didn’t leave the doorway, but her ears perked up.

“She was very well trained,” a woman said with a smile. “Not used to that around here.”

Cherry smiled at the new face.

“Alright, Dakota. You were good for Miss…”

“Ellie. Ellie Perkins.”

“You were good for Miss Perkins. Go lay down.”

Cherry tossed the meat to a cleared out space near the door and watched Dakota amble after it before dropping to the ground with a puff of dust.

She had really missed having a dog. Between Dakota and the new prescription sitting in her and Gage’s bags, there was a chance at a little bit better conditions than the past few weeks.

“I’m glad to see you’re okay. Nick was telling me about your case. I’ll be happy to help however I can.”

Turning back to her, Cherry let the smile fade.

“I appreciate that. I’m not sure what there is left except for tracking him down though.”

“Right. Kellogg. I pulled aside his file for you to look over. I’m sure that Nick’s gotten it memorized by now. He was pouring over it all night.”

If Gage hadn’t been finishing the shopping and prep work in the market, there would have been some kind of snarky remark about Valentine not getting started, but Cherry was more grateful than anything.

This was the real reason that Mackenzie had been shunted off in her mind. This was where the man who took Shaun was. Or had been. This was a step closer to actual answers.

With a hand that wanted to shake more than anything, Cherry took the folder that Ellie held out.

There was a sketch of Kellogg, confirming wholeheartedly that this was him. The face she had memorized and name Valentine knew did in fact match.

“It’s him.”

“Good,” Valentine said, stepping into the office space. He had been in a back room running through some maintenance while he had the chance. “That means that this is going to get a lot easier on the investigation.”

“So the next step is checking out his old place here in town?”

“Exactly. There might be some hint of where he was going.”

“Security is pretty lax there,” Ellie said, holding her hand out for the folder. “Still, you both should be careful. Dakota here might draw some extra attention.”

“Never mind the guard dog out there too,” Valentine muttered.

“Dakota, come.”

Immediately, Dakota stood with a little stretch and moved to Cherry’s side. She gave her dog an affectionate ear scratching before they were out the door, ready to make their way to Kellogg’s hideout.

“I didn’t want Ellie to hear this, but I think you should know,” Valentine said once they joined Gage outside. “Kellogg is a professional. Quick, clean, thorough. No enemies, because they’re all dead.”

“Except me.”

“Except you.”

“Looks like that’s gonna be his last mistake, ain’t that right, boss?”

Cherry nodded firmly.

“Found somethin’ for you while I was on my way back.”

The yellow aluminum bat was a little heavier than she was expecting. The grip was wrapped tightly with leather, allowing for Cherry to grasp it firmly without too much effort. Two thick copper coils wrapped around and around the barrel of the bat with some kind of battery secured between them.

“You’re a shit shot. This can do some decent damage to the asshole.”

Gage’s expression - that measured curl of his lip that exposed teeth - made Cherry glad that Valentine was behind her and couldn’t see her face.

She could feel the hint of a mirrored smile.

It was a short way up a set of metal steps to what amounted to little more than a shack about the size of the detective agency. It was built up against a wall at stand level, the seating area that Cherry was familiar with blocked off by sheets of rusted metal.

“Keep an eye out, will ya? Let’s see if I can get this open.”

Gage turned to the railing, keeping Dakota close at hand. They watched over Diamond City while Cherry moved into the shadow of the building, closer to Valentine.

“I can do that,” Cherry said when she saw him struggling. His hand with exposed metal seemed to need more repairs than they’d thought.

“By all means, go for it.”

Pulling out her small screwdriver from a pocket and a bobby pin from her hair, Cherry worked steadily to turn the tumblers. It was slow only because she was being certain that no noise moved past the immediate area. With a soft click, the lock turned.

Before she could start to move in, Gage was at her side and slipping his way between her and the entrance.

“Nice work, boss. My turn.”

“My luck not holding out enough for you?”

“Not enough for my life.”

His grin was all teeth and gaps as he placed Dakota’s leash in her hand and pulled a pistol from a new holster on his belt.

“Stay put till I give the all clear.”

It didn’t take long before Gage opened the door enough to stick his head out and gesture for Cherry and Valentine to follow.

“Didn’t see anything that stood out, but I ain’t got the eyes to know what I’m supposed to be lookin' for.”

Maybe it was a childhood of watching her mom work on blueprints, maybe it was the sudden overwhelming feeling of cramped quarters, but the layout of the single room rubbed Cherry the wrong way.

“Place seem small to you?” Valentine asked.

“Yeah. It looked bigger from out there." She held a palm up. "Dakota, stay.”

Cherry made her way to the stairs that led to a handmade wooden loft that boasted a stripped twin bed and a sleeping bag. From there, she was able to more easily follow a series of wires connecting to the back wall.

“Gage.”

His head snapped up to her in an instant, ready to take orders.

“Where do those lead?”

She pointed at the bundle of wires moving down the wall like nerves.

Gage put a hand on where the bundle was thickest and moved along each path until he could move no further.

“Got one down here.” He ducked his head low and then popped back up. “Button under the desk, boss.”

Cherry sucked in a breath and nodded at his questioning gaze. There was the sound of the button sinking into place and then whirring as the wall to the right of the door moved.

Dakota let out a low growl and turned defensively towards the wall at the same time that Gage pulled and pointed a gun on the movement.

“Well… that’s one way to hide a room.”

As swift as Cherry dared, she ran to the now exposed room.

It wasn’t much bigger than the pantry she was converting back at Fizztop, maybe a bit smaller. A leather chair that had managed to withstand the test of time sat in the middle, surrounded by shelves, ammo boxes, and a supply of beer.

“Look at this,” Valentine said with a low whistle. “All of a merc’s favorite things.”

“Gage, take anything that seems useful for supplies and pack it away. The rest will go to the detective for his help.”

She knew that her voice was too cold, that Valentine was stiff beside her.

“You got it, boss.”

Valentine stood in front of the chair, turning over something he’d pulled off of the side table - a cigar.

“Don’t see this brand out here. San Francisco Sunlights.” He sighed. “Not very useful on its own, though.”

“Any suggestions?”

He glanced down at Dakota who was still on edge at the entryway, though no longer growling.

“Can she track?”

“If Mason trained her, it’s pretty likely,” Gage replied from a knee. He was peering at bottles of water before slipping them into his backpack. “But dunno how good she’ll be. Not the type I normally see hunters use.”

Dakota sat up straighter at the word “hunter.”

“I think that looks like a yes,” Valentine said. “You got an idea of what the commands are?”

Gage nodded, standing up.

“Jerky.” He held a hand out for the strip that Cherry was already pulling from a bag.

“Alright, mutt. You ready to work?”

Dakota stood at attention.

“What are we usin' as the scent?”

Valentine passed over a box of cigars.

“Based on the dust levels, he packed up recently,” Gage held a cigar up to Dakota, “Scent.”

Obediently, Dakota started sniffing at the cigar, examining it all over. Gage tossed the jerky at her feet and made her wait before letting her go for the meat.

“Lookin’ over how things are organized in here, he packed enough for under a day’s walk. I’m thinkin’ wherever he ended up goin’ is another hideout. Either got wind of you comin’ for him or got some new orders.”

Gage opened the door, motioning for Cherry and Valentine to exit. Once they were back outside, he held a hand up to Dakota who was pawing at the floor.

“Hunt.”

She started running, nearly pulling Gage’s shoulder out of socket as he gripped the leash firmly. Even with it wrapped around his forearm for extra security.

“Heel, you mutt.”

“Dakota,” Cherry said, warning in her voice. “Heel.”

The dog slowed, huffing for the humans to catch up with her.

“She’s about as patient as you are, boss.”

Cherry rolled her eyes at Gage.

“Ready, Dakota? Hunt. Slow.”

Cherry approached, using a hand to direct Dakota in the direction of the stairs and then moving it downward, keeping the palm flat like she’d seen Mason do.

“Good luck,” Valentine said as they approached the gate. “If it doesn’t pan out, come back and we’ll figure out a new tactic.”

Cherry nodded once.

“The next time I see you, I hope it’s with your son, safe and sound.”

Tears stung at the corners of her eyes.

“Stay safe. And don’t give Ellie any more anxiety than she already has.”

The last sound of Diamond City was his chuckle drowned out by the grating slam shut of the gate.

Chapter Text

She was getting too comfortable around him.

It was bad enough that she’d called him out on getting sentimental, but waking up with her face buried in his chest really had done something to him. Something that had him recalculating his tactics on how to keep her in line.

At this point, he’d seen her sleep plenty of times. Hell, in the last week alone, she’d been passed out for as long as he could get her to lay the fuck down. And when she slept, it was too deep to be safe. On the one hand, it meant that she wasn't getting up in shit. On the other, it made her an easy mark.

Gage, though. Gage knew better.

It had been years since he’d let himself slack like he had the night before. Sleeping without anyone on watch. Sleeping with someone in his arms while it happened. And there was the way that she had gripped onto his shirt with a fist like she was scared even in her sleep that she’d wake up alone.

Hair a mess, tied back out of the way. Soft, even breaths grazing across where shirt met skin. Warm leg hooked lazily around his calf, her arm tucked between their bodies and fingers interlocked with the fabric keeping his skin away from hers.

The detective hadn’t pushed anything when Gage and the boss has stayed firmly in their professional roles of boss and lackey. He was willing to bet that it had something to do with the amount of pain clear on her face and the close call from the day before.

Groaning in her sleep, voice still shot from all the screaming. Her brow pinched tight. A hand turning her face up, catching sight of tears at the corners of her eyes. Tears that he hadn’t put there. He was the one who was supposed to make that happen. Not some two-bit doctor with an axe to grind.

Gage wasn’t the most possessive man in the wastes. He was a greedy bastard like any self-respecting raider, but he wasn’t all that possessive. What he was though, was committed to the person keeping him with his head where it belonged. In this case, the person who had all but begged him to break her.

Eyes wide, tearing with fear, mouth taped shut. He didn’t like the screaming. Hurt his ears. Fuck having her go through the Gauntlet. That wasn’t personal enough. A knife through her ribs. No audience. Just the echoes of her getting her due.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t felt fear course through him when he realized that the boss was damn near catatonic. The doctor back in Nuka-World was high on his shit list. The first hour and a half of sitting by Cherry’s side was planning out who he was going to send out to find a new doctor after he dragged the sorry sack of shit down to the arena.

Tan skin wrapped around leather wrapped around metal. The wide arc of yellow paint connecting with flesh and viscera. Red hair down and wild, scars and freckles and rage all behind the swing. His knife finding purchase again just before heated coils kissed the doctor’s cheek. Letting the monster he was making let loose on the-

“Gage.” The boss’ voice was firm in the new silence around them as the gate fully crashed into place. “Focus up.”

“Yeah, boss.”

Following the dog through the streets of Boston was far more straightforward than Gage had thought it would be. She stopped a handful of times to pick the scent back up before trodding on. There were few obstacles in the way before the boss realized that they were following the train tracks for a good bit.

They didn’t do much talking as they walked, but more than a few times, Gage was impressed with the skill that she had developed in fighting off the stray animals that got close while looking for a meal.

She looked damn good swinging that bat. Almost like a raider.

Between the two of them and a good old fashioned attack dog, there was hardly any time wasted when something did pop up. Though for the most part, the trek was silent and just chilly as she was.

“Do you have a way for us to get him back to Nuka-World?” the boss had asked after a while. “A way that doesn’t require too much blood.”

“You ain’t gonna like my answer much.”

Her sigh filled the air around them so thickly that he couldn’t help but breathe it in.

“The collar is the tried and true method, boss.”

“Alright. How do you suggest we go about it? We’ll need some kind of plan.”

Conversation died when the dog barked once before rushing forward. Gage sped up to avoid falling over with the sudden force.

“Dakota, heel!”

The dog slowed back down, but didn’t lose any urgency as she continued down to a road below them that led to a bridge. As they got closer, Gage could see the fur of her hackles standing. A low, steady growl fell against the ground.

“We’re gonna have some company, boss.”

The bridge, like most in the Commonwealth that were part of the road system, was littered with overturned trucks and cars that made for excellent cover in a firefight. Unfortunately, that also meant that they were excellent cover for the other guy too.

The boss nodded, moving to crouch along the side of the road. When she stood, her hands were filled with small stones. Once they were within a good chucking range, she looked to Gage with her mouth in a hard line.

“Dakota, stay.”

Gage stepped into position, just within cover of the large shipping truck.

A rock sailed overhead, thumping against metal and bouncing off onto gravel. There was the unmistakable sound of a ghoul waking, shuffling into a crawl.

Once it rounded on Gage, he made short work of it with his shotgun, but more and more were coming out. Thanks to the narrow entry point, though, the downed ghouls had effectively turned themselves into a slippery pile of limbs that tripped the others in time for Gage to end them.

A few minutes passed before Gage gave the signal for all clear and the hunt continued.

The boss looked longingly at some of the houses they passed.

“You ain’t actually planning on running out on me now, are you?”

He’d meant it as a joke. Something to ease the tension, but the sad smile she returned was haunting.

“Where would I go?”

“Dunno. Maybe you’ll go to Diamond City and play chump.”

“Please,” she snorted. “I think I’ve been ruined now that I’ve got an endless supply of soda and trauma.”

Her back against the backdrop of Nuka-Town. Her voice ringing through a crowd - clear as a dinner bell. Manic and wild and calculating. His puppet moving without strings or commands. Her following the path he'd laid out for her and enjoying a sprint down to hell with him. Ruined.

He cracked a smile back at her.

“About the plan for Kellogg,” he said, watching the smile die at the name. “Pretty sure he’ll be mostly distracted by you showin’ up. If I can get behind him during a scuffle, then I can snap a collar around his throat for you.”

“What good will it do if he decides that he’d rather die than get taken?”

“Darlin’, I’ll break every one of the fucker’s limbs before he gets the chance.”

He froze as soon as the words were out of his mouth, trying his best to keep his face neutral.

Her eyes were wide as she took in what he’d said.

Eyes wide, mouth opening to whisper the holiest word she could think of - cut off with a quiet whimper. Spine curving away from cool air. Her above him, knees pressing into his sides. Her in his shirt-

They stared at each other for a beat before finally, she was the one to look away.

Her fingers buried in the sheets. His fingers buried in her. Moans filling the space between bodies when her chanted prayer wasn't. His need to get closer. To get warm like her. Warm, so goddamn warm-

“R-right. I’ll aim for the legs to get him to stay still, then you go in with the collar.”

They still didn’t move, even when the dog pulled on the lead.

He knew for a downright fact that there was no imagination or residual fantasy in the way the blush had crawled up her face and made a home there. And sure as hell, there was no mistaking the look in her eyes at his promise to make sure Kellogg didn’t get away.

He really shouldn’t get used to her unrepentant adoration, but she made it so easy to want more.

“Fort Hagen?” Cherry muttered as they crossed past a fence, brows furrowed. “Wait a second.”

She fiddled with her Pipboy for a minute before inhaling so sharply, Gage thought she had pricked herself.

“You’re fucking kidding me!”

With a roar, she swung at the fence with full force. The ripple of the metal links rattling carried for a few yards before dying.

“Godammit!”

“The hell?”

“Look how fucking close we are to Nuka-World.”

She shoved her arm out, map still up on the screen. It was maybe a two hour walk, maximum.

Gage couldn’t help the hiss that whistled through his teeth.

“Well, we’ll have less hell draggin’ the dickwad back then, huh?”

“He’s been right there, Porter.”

It was the first time she’d called him that all day, and he hated the moment that his brain stuttered to hear it.

“And now he won’t be.” Gage said simply. “Now, he’s gonna be tied up in some fuckin’ hell that the Disciples put together until he tells us everythin’ we want to know and then some.”

She wasn’t crying, but she wasn’t really listening either. Her thumb was pressed against her mouth, teeth ready to gnaw through bone if given the chance.

“And Shaun? If I had just kept walking for an hour or two I would have had him already.” Her voice broke. “I would have had him weeks ago.”

Gage pulled her hand from her lips, earning a glare.

“No you wouldn’t. You’d be dead in a ditch somewhere or taken off to who the hell knows where. I mean it wasn't all that hard to get you on the train to a literal death trap.”

He kept his voice neutral, matter of fact. It seemed to help. Her hands were-

-wrapped around leather wrapped around metal wrapped around blood and skin and bone and-

“You didn’t know left from down when you got out of that ice box. You findin’ me was the best damn thing to happen to you out here short of none of this happenin’ at all.”

Her face betrayed no emotion as she let her head fall. But, her right hand clenched tighter around the bat's handle.

“You ready to get this son of a bitch?”

She nodded firmly, looking up. The heat behind her eyes burned into him, coiling itself into his spine like it lived there. The heat spread through him in every possible direction.

“Then let’s get on with it. We’ve got answers to get.”

Sure enough, the dog led them up to a building, collapsed in one side, not far from one of the pre-war fuel stations.

“I want to stop there for a break. Eat, make sure all our stuff is good to go.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“Dakota,” Cherry murmured, leaning in to give the dog a good scratch behind the ear, “you did such a good job for me. Let’s go eat something.”

Gage sat on the ground, digging in his bag to get some of the water bottles he’d swiped back at Kellogg’s abandoned house. He tossed one to Cherry, then filled up the tin bowl she’d set out for the dog.

All of them downed the water in generous gulps now that they knew the trip back to Nuka-World wouldn’t be a bitch and a half. The most difficult part of it - if Kellogg proved uncooperative - would be strapping the bastard to a piece of wood and dragging his happy ass over to the Disciples.

“So,” Cherry said carefully, drawing out the sound as she laid down and looked up at the ceiling. “Did you want to talk about our cover when we’re out here? Now that Valentine isn’t involved. Something less... awkward?”

“You think now’s the best time?”

“I don’t think that there’s going to be unless we make one. Besides, it’ll get me out of my head.”

Gage sighed and lit up a cigarette. She was right - of course she was. If he had his way, they’d never talk about this shit and just go right on with what they could call a life. Marching along with what was admittedly a lot less dull than what he'd been doing.

“Alright. What do you want?”

“Me?”

“Yeah. ‘S what I said. You’re the one that cares enough to talk about it.”

Distance.

Control.

Not action on the fantasy that was building itself brick by brick.

Not the itch in his fingers to feel the silky hair twirling in his fingers again.

To grab her by the hips and rut into her just to get the thoughts put back on a fucking shelf and away from every stray second he wasn't focused on the task at hand.

“I… I mean it doesn’t bother me."

He felt her watching him, the way the air shifted, the sound of her hair sliding across the dusty, cracked linoleum. Her mouth running as fast as it could so she could avoid what she was really wanting to say.

"I think it makes a lot of sense for when we’re somewhere populated. No one seemed to ask too many questions about a couple passing through. Or maybe they were just being polite to the person who passed out at the gate. And there's at least a handful of people in Diamond City that already know this cover story - but we don't have to keep it anywhere else. I mean they didn't seem to have a clue about the parks. Or they have more immediate things to worry about. I know a few people mentioned somewhere called Goodneighbor. If there's any relationship between the cities, then it would probably be best to stick to the same-”

“For the love of anything - and I do mean anything - breathe.”

Her inhale was caught on the still air.

“I just-" Her voice softened to the tone that had been haunting him for weeks, "...don’t want anything happening to you because of me. Especially once we actually get the gangs out here. If people think that there's... something between us... that might put a target on you. And part of our arrangement-”

Gage snorted before taking a long drag. The smoke poured out of a thin line on parted lips.

“I can take care of myself.”

“You shouldn’t have to." Her hair shifted again, her quiet voice so damn gentle. "You deserve someone looking out for you too. The way you have for me.”

She was pointedly not looking at him. He was pointedly not looking at her. There was a long stretch of quiet before she sat up again, arm shoved into her backpack.

“I know you can take care of yourself. There’s lots of ways I can take care of myself.” She handed him a wrapped up bundle, eyes firmly on his hands taking it from hers. “But you just go through motions. Someone has to make sure you get what you want too.”

Hair fanned out on a mattress, face just as red with effort. Her nails digging lines into his biceps - drawing blood, working him up. Small puffs of breath escaping open lips fighting to warm the cold in the air. Tanned, sweaty skin clinging to the sheets below it. His name filling the space between them in a whisper. Warm legs wrapped-

“I get what I want when I want it,” he muttered.

Unwrapping the package, he found a fresh box of pre-rolled cigarettes and a mix of dried fruit.

“I saw you were running low this morning. That lady next to the weapons dealer had these in stock. And the fruit is some stuff she said was imported from out west. I was going to re-hydrate the extra I got so I can marinate it with some venison when we get back home. I got a good deal on spices too. I figured I could make something tasty. To celebrate.”

His mind still wrapped around how casually she’d started using the word “home” like she meant it. Whether it was because of the kids back at Fizztop or the weird way she’d imprinted on the gangless dregs, he didn’t know how much to care.

Her sitting on the kitchen counter in nothing but a bedshirt, him on his knees in front of her. Porter. Her head back in ecstasy. Porter. The look of her knuckles turning white from gripping the counter edge. Porter. A leg hooked around the back of his neck-

“You really like the radstag stew. My dad used to make venison fajitas, but I wasn’t able to find much in the way of peppers. So I figured I could improvise something else.”

Gage turned to look at her now.

“What do you think is happenin’ here, boss?”

It was more harsh than he’d intended.

She huffed out an annoyed breath before angrily pulling a bundle out for herself and another for the dog.

“I don’t know. A conversation. Showing you that I appreciate what you’ve done for me.” Her voice had an edge to it. “Sorry for thinking that I could do something nice for you after all the trouble. Especially after you stayed up for me yesterday. You know, making sure I didn’t die.”

Slow breathing against his skin. Arm around her waist as she drifts off. The smell of her soap wafting into his space. A deep breath of it. Following her into sleep.

“I didn’t mean-” Gage snapped his mouth shut when she rounded on him.

“I don’t care what you ‘didn’t mean’. I care about what you do mean. Dammit all, Porter, just get it through your head that you’re someone important to me and accept your goddamned present.”

He let a moment pass, basking in the full attention of her anger. In the steely eyes that pinned him to the spot more than fear or want or an itch to fight ever did. Ever could.

He had her undivided attention.

He refused to admit exactly how much he enjoyed seeing that aggression in her. Seeing her take off masks of bravado or fear or bland acceptance. Showing him who she was when he picked at the costumes she wore. Showing him just how far he was dragging her into the world that he had been thriving in for decades.

He wanted to be the only one to see that rage and fire at its wildest. He wanted to have every private emotion she had be his alone. And for once, it didn’t feel like he wanted it just to keep the upper hand.

He wanted to be thriving right along side her.

Gage could be bought - anyone with the right incentive could convince anyone else of anything. Gage could be reasoned with and get the shit kicked out of him. He could be saved from bleeding out on the ground. No matter the situation, he’d always liked to think of himself as loyal to one person and one person only.

But in under a month, Cherry had cracked his chest apart enough to shove herself into the cavity she’d pried open. He hadn’t felt the pressure of the breaking or even noticed that there was something curling itself into his motivations.

Arm numbed out beneath the weight of her head, but still not moving. Getting lost as he absently counted the freckles that he could see until she finally rolled over and freed him. The feeling of her back pressing into his chest. The want to hold her against him and pretend it was because he was sleeping too. Ruined.

It wasn’t a matter of loyalty. Maybe one day, he could be loyal to her, no matter what ideas she got into her head.

Even now, he was invested in what she wanted just as much as he was in getting Nuka-World back up. The two of them weren’t battling for control anymore. They hadn’t been for a while now. Instead, they were taking turns with it.

“I like seeing you pissed off. You look less dead.”

She blinked at him before snorting out that sharp shotgun laugh.

“I ain’t good with feelin’s and shit like that. Don’t want to be good with ‘em. It’s shit for the dead or the weak in this line of business.” He plucked a familiar looking slice of fruit from the pile, a hazy memory trying to surface with it. “That bein’ said, I recognize that what we got goin’ on here is tangential to business.”

Her eyes softened.

“I enjoy killin’ shit with you. It’s interestin’. I think the way you get shit handled is more convoluted than it needs to be, but it gets results that keep people off our backs. Don’t remember the last time I had as much breathin’ room as I do now.”

The sweetness bloomed on his tongue as the he chewed on the dried peach. It was leather-like in it’s toughness, something he had to work for to enjoy. It didn’t fully cut through the ashy taste in his mouth, but the flavor did spill onto his tongue enough to tempt him for more.

A kid walking for days to get to the next town. Every so often, he’d take a break and jam dried fruit into his mouth along with a swig of water. It was the taste of a new life for a runaway asshole that didn't know what was going to happen next. Didn't care what happened next so long as it wasn't getting walked all over. The taste of new freedom.

“I guess you like it, then?”

He opened his eye to a smug grin.

“No one asked you.”

“I’m glad. It’s nice to see you smile like that.”

“Yeah, well don’t get used to it.”

Even as he said it, he knew he’d nailed his own coffin shut. It was too lighthearted, too joking. He’d already put out his cigarette and gone for another dried peach slice.

Him at her side. Her at his.

“Fine then,” her smile was less smug now, more on the sly side. “I’ll just ply you with more snacks if I want to see it again.”

“This been a good enough distraction for you?” he asked, with a snort.

“Yeah, actually.”

“Good. Now finish up so we can go beat the shit out of this asshole.”

Chapter Text

They were able to get in through a door in the parking garage - maybe a loading bay. It was definitely not an entrance that would have been frequently used considering that it went directly into a stairway.

The door on the opposite wall of where they came in was chained up as far as Cherry was able to tell. Cherry and Gage tucked away their backpacks and supplies that were inessential to a fight beside the door they’d come through.

Aside from Gage’s ammo, some stimpaks, and their weapons, everything else had to be stashed if they wanted to keep as quiet as possible.

Cargo pants are definitely going on the list of things I need.

“Dakota,” she whispered, sinking low, “silent.”

Cherry held a finger to her lips and looked to Porter. With a quick nod, he took a measured step into the stairwell. Following behind, Cherry let Dakota off her leash.

“Heel.”

Dutifully, Dakota kept to the space just to Cherry's side, quiet aside from the soft click of nails against the worn tile and exposed concrete floor.

The stairs were littered with cleaning supplies and skeletal remains in tattered uniforms. It was three and a half flights before they reached a hallway.

Porter held up a hand, pointing with his head toward a terminal visible from where Cherry stood, just behind him. Beside it was a protectron in a charging booth.

She couldn’t see anything reflected in the glass other than another set of stairs across from an open door.

Slowly, Cherry moved back down, gesturing with a free hand for Porter to follow.

“Judgement call,” she whispered, “do we go for this here and now or bring back some extra hands?”

Porter’s face scrunched in thought.

“We can do some basic scouting, if you really want to get a crew together for this, but that’ll come with questions.”

Cherry nodded.

“Not exactly the best choice for a base of operations in the Commonwealth, huh?”

“Could be, depending on how put together the rest of the building is. Don’t like that this was the only entrance we could find. Leastways on the ground. Would be tough in a pinch.”

“But there’s plenty of resources nearby. And it doesn't seem like there's much else around. Could be a good foxhole.”

“True enough.”

Cherry bit her lip then looked down to her hands.

Breathe. You can do this.

“What if he has Shaun in there?”

“A crew won’t give two shits in the heat of the moment. Not unless we can vet ‘em. And there’s no sayin’ how long we’ll have this guy here.”

“Alright.”

Cherry held onto her newest weapon. The coils hummed to life as she carefully removed the strip of rubber that had been blocking off the current of electricity.

“Then we’ll take it like we did at Kiddie Kingdom. You watch my back with Dakota. Sic her on anyone we come across after you’ve shot them. I’ll work on getting us forward.”

“Got it.”

She started to move forward, but Gage stopped her with a firm hand around her arm.

"I want you to keep your distance from the dog. She might be trained to fight, but it’s only been a few days since you got her.”

“Alright.”

“If she goes after you at all, you do what you need to. I don’t care if it’s the bat or a bullet.”

Cherry stared down at Dakota who was patiently sitting on a step, watching the landing above them. She’d been clearly ready for a fight once she saw the weapons drawn, but was staying quiet like Cherry had ordered.

“Right.”

Gage's hand moved to her chin, turning her face up until she was looking him in the eye. There was no pain to it, but it was an unflinching reminder that he was the one who knew how to survive when they were up against the wall.

“I know you don’t want to put her down unless she’s a direct threat, but you ain’t the one that trained this dog.”

Cherry tried to nod, but Gage held her face firmly, his thumb resting just beside her fresh scar.

“I wanna hear you say it.”

“If she turns on one of us and doesn’t obey, I’ll do what I need to do.”

“You don’t have to kill her. You just need to get her to stop before she does any harm. We can’t have you goin’ down when you’re this close to what you want.”

He let her go.

With a shaky exhale, Cherry cleared her head of any thoughts that weren’t either of getting Kellogg or watching out for the safety of her team.

Gage had a point, but it didn’t make the knot in her stomach relax. It was the first time Dakota was going fully off leash.

Cherry was careful, walking on the balls of her feet as she moved to keep as silent as possible. Instead of taking the door, she threw a cautious look to Gage before moving into the open room beside the stairs.

There had been a shadow moving through the light that wasn’t natural.

A mechanical voice, neutral and without inflection sounded in the distance.

“Is someone present?”

The sharp inhale behind her had her backing up, just as quietly as she’d entered. Nothing but the ambient hum.

“What?”

“Synth. One of the old ones. Means that there’s likely to be a fuck ton more.”

“We’ve done worse odds,” she tried to sound as casual as a whisper allowed.

He frowned.

“Boss, these things don’t bleed. You shoot out the legs, they keep crawlin’ for you.”

“So we get rid of the power sources.”

When she moved to go back up to get her answers, Gage’s hand shot out to her arm.

He’d gotten a lot more comfortable touching her lately. A lot more comfortable with physically stopping her from doing something stupid.

Unfortunately, this time here was a dog between them, growling until Gage let her bicep go.

“Down, Dakota. Silent.”

Cherry and Gage stood stock still, listening out for a sign that they were too loud.

The building was more rubble than space. Old display cases in decay and columns that were still holding up the ceiling were the best things to hide behind. Maybe she was getting too used to being in a fire fight because there after beating down the first of the syths - more skeletal machine than something to pity - she was on a roll.

Their guns were unloaded almost as soon as they had replenished their ammo, but even though Gage had been wary there was something so very clinical about how Cherry was tearing through synths.

Every so often, one of them would mention Kellogg, and a rage bubbled up higher and higher. If it hadn’t been for Gage being there, she would have been much more foolhardy in how she went through.

As it was, clearing the building was something passing her in a state of dissociation. Dakota dragged synths down to their knees for Cherry to drive her bat down into them without a hint of mercy or hesitation.

At some point, they came to an elevator.

“You good, boss?”

She was breathing heavily, staring at the button with a down arrow.

“Eyes on me.”

She wasn’t looking at him, but her eyes were on his face. Underneath that, there was blood. There was a brain. There was a person. Despite what she’d done so far, she hadn’t actually removed that from someone. Not really.

“You need to get yourself together, or I’m gonna be the one to go get this son of a bitch and have you wait here.”

“I haven’t killed someone with my own hands before.”

“You got Colter, didn’t you?”

Cherry shook her head.

“I shoved a grenade down his power armor. I don’t even really remember doing it. Like I wasn’t really there.”

“Well we ain’t killin’ him today. So you can put that whole thing off until you’re ready. Hell. You give the word, and I’ll do it for you. For now, we’re just here to collect.”

He pressed the button, making sure to hold Cherry’s gaze as he did.

“You gonna come with me, or you stayin’ here?”

The elevator doors opened with a ding.

Cherry stepped through.

It was with clenched teeth and heart that Cherry made her way through the winding halls of Fort Hagen.

“Well, if it isn’t my old friend, the frozen TV dinner. Last time we met, you were cozying up to the peas and apple cobbler.”

Her bat kept connecting with machinery as they pressed forward.

“Hold up, boss.”

Gage grabbed her bicep with one hand and pointed to a space below the handle to the door she was approaching with another. A thick square was mounted so that a thin strip of corrugated metal was slipped between the wall and the door.

Again, it was him physically holding her back that was keeping her alive.

“Tension trigger. Gimme a second.”

Gage knelt down and got to work disarming the device that Cherry was able to see led up to a nasty looking machine on the ceiling.

“I would have missed that,” Cherry confessed, staring down at the worn concrete floor.

“It’s what I’m here for. Works best if you get your head back down here with the rest of us.”

“I just… wasn’t expecting the goading.”

“Now you know. If I’m focusin’ up, so are you. Got it?”

He stood, swinging open the security door for her.

“I’m considering a new plan in getting him to come with us.”

“Shoot.”

Cherry pointed her bat at the speaker high on the wall that had unsettled her. It was just like Kiddie Kingdom all over again. Except the person at the end of this ride had actively hurt her and people she cared about. Hadn’t done anything to earn grace. And from his taunting, it was clear he was working to rile her up.

“I’m going to be the one to break his legs. It needs to be me.”

Gage’s grin made her heart flutter.

“Makes sense. And considerin’ that he was able to tell you were here, he knows I am too. So you get him distracted and break a few bones. I’ll collar him.”

Tears pushed through, blurring her vision only for as long as it took to furiously wipe them away. She tightened her ponytail and then wound it into a bun so it would be harder for it to get caught.

“When this is done, I want him to suffer. Every moment he gets alive after this is going to be hell.”

Gage nodded as Cherry passed by him.

“You know, boss. I don’t think I’ve had this much fun in a while.”

“Fun?”

“Don’t exactly get to let loose in the parks. Guess I’ve been itchin’ to break someone.”

Down a set of stairs, a turret beeped to life for only a moment before Gage had it down to nothing more than a pile of scrap.

Another security gate.

Kellogg’s voice crackled over speakers again with a tinge of sarcasm that set Cherry on fire.

“Sorry your house has been a wreck of two hundred years. But I don’t need a roommate. Leave.”

A pair of blue double doors. Through them, machinery and skeletal soldiers still in uniform. Another set of stairs.

Another speaker.

“Never expected you to come knocking on my door. Gave you fifty-fifty odds of making it to Diamond City. After that? Figured the Commonwealth would chew you up like jerky.”

She caught Gage watching her out of the corner of her vision, but she shook her head. She was done with this man getting under her skin.

Gage was right. Before she’d started taking care of things at Nuka-World, she might have been the weak thing that Kellogg expected her to be. But she wasn’t fresh out of the vault and scared.

The fear she did have was the healthy dose of what it took to survive. It was practicality more than anything. Her motivations to fix up Nuka-World was fueled by a want to give Shaun somewhere better to live than what she’d seen as the accepted standard.

Porter had shown her what it meant to fight without being foolhardy in this place. He’d done things for her that no one else would have. He’d tracked down the leads without once leaving her side. Supported her decisions in how Nuka-World was going to be run.

Cherry wasn’t some weak suburbanite without any tools in her belt. She had a lifetime of survival training, the rhetoric she needed to get things done, and most of all, she had the burning need to get Kellogg down on his knees in front of her begging for mercy.

She’d only give it to him if Shaun was safe and immediately back in her arms.

More stairs, more security gates, more synths to knock over with satisfying slams of her bat. More of Dakota dragging synths down to her level before shaking a limb loose from its socket. More of Gage smashing a boot through their heads.

Every so often, the heating coil would connect with some wiring and cause a small burst of flames to spark.

“Look. You’re pissed off. I get it. I do. But whatever you hope to accomplish in here. It’s not gonna go your way.”

If Shaun wasn’t here, then Kellogg had better start praying.

They cleared each room as they went. Bunks, bathrooms, cafeteria. Every shot from a synth’s gun felt more like an ant bite - a very big ant bite - but nothing compared to the deep ghoul scratches or bloodworm venom or mirelurk slamming into her body. Nothing compared to the bullets of a turret or what she’d been through in the Gauntlet.

She and Gage only spoke to give Dakota instructions or to call out enemies. Otherwise, they methodically cleared the building.

It would be a lovely base for her crew.

“You got guts and determination. That’s admirable. But you’re in over your head in ways you can’t possibly comprehend.”

Whoever Kellogg was working with had better start praying.

Cherry sprinted down a narrow pipe-lined hallway, bat raised and brought down over a synth’s head.

“It’s not too late. Stop. Turn around and leave. You have the option. Not a lot of people can say that.”

“This son of a bitch really likes runnin’ his mouth, huh?”

Cherry shrugged, chest heaving with the strain she was putting on her body.

The moment that Kellogg was bound and firmly in the Disciples’ care, she was going to boil a tub full of water and get all the grime off of her.

She would make a good meal with the spices she’d gotten and then pass out. A mattress sounded like heaven.

They approached what looked like a waiting room - reception desk, couch, well trodden rug. There was even the remnants of an inoffensive painting hanging at a jaunty angle on the wall.

And through that door at the opposite end of the room was the most jarring thing that Cherry had experienced since waking up in the future.

One side of the room was piled high with furniture in the styles she was familiar with. The kind of furniture that the government and law practices used to seem officious. Heavy wood and wing-back chairs.

The other side was pristine furniture arranged like a small studio apartment. Boxy harsh corners of a desk and bed-frame. A perfectly clean desk fan rotated on a low setting, making the basic act of breathing drastically different than it had been in the stagnant halls that they’d been trudging through. There was even a pristine decorative vase beside a radio.

“The hell is-”

“Okay. You made it. I’m just up ahead. My synths are standing down. Let’s talk.”

“Boss?”

Cherry took in a staggered breath before looking to Gage for support.

“How do you wanna do this?” he asked. Calm, resolute. Her right hand holding onto reality while the rest of her fought off drowning.

“He gets one chance to give up Shaun. Anything else, you and Dakota deal with the synths while I make sure he goes down and stays there.”

“You got it.”

They followed the hallway up some steps and stepped into a space Cherry recognized from when they’d come through the elevator. It had been inaccessible because the doors leading in were maglocked.

“And there she is,” Kellogg said as he stepped out with his hands up. One of them held a heavy looking pistol. “The most  resilient woman in the Commonwealth.”

Overhead lights slowly came to life, brightening the space so Cherry could take a closer look at what was apparently office cubicles. Gage stepped off to the side, eyeing the pair of synths that accompanied Kellogg.

There would be cover, but he’d have to work to get at them.

And Gage would have to get at them, because unless Shaun was ducked under a desk, he wasn’t here.

“So here we are. Funny, huh?”

Cherry glared daggers into him. Dakota loyally kept close to her side while Gage positioned himself up on the steps leading to the hall they’d first walked through. There wouldn’t be cover for him, but he’d have a better angle for getting a shot off.

“Enough. Just…” Cherry's voice wanted to falter, but instead she leaned into the pain. “Where is my baby?”

“Lady, I’m a puppet just like you. My stage is just a little-”

Gage cocked his gun, lining it on Kellogg.

“That ain’t what she asked, asshole.”

Kellogg’s tight smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“He’s not quite a ‘baby’ anymore. But he’s doing great. Not here, though. He’s off with the people pulling the strings.”

“Goddammit,” Cherry said taking a step forward with each word. “Where. Is. My. Son.”

“What’s the cliche? ‘So close, but yet so far?’ That’s Shaun.”

She was close enough to ram a knife through his ribs if she wanted to. Unfortunately, a little too close for a bat to the shins.

She shoved him lightly, pleased when the synths didn’t react. Probably because Kellogg had meant it when he said they were standing down.

It looked like he really didn't think of her as much of a threat.

Now the apologetic smile on Kellogg’s face was a real one.

“Don’t worry. You’ll die knowing he’s safe and happy. A bit older than you expected, but ah well. At least he’s in a loving home. The Institute.”

“Doesn’t matter where he is. Here. The Institute. I’ll find him. I’m getting him back.”

“Your bodyguard back there deals with this all the time? I’ll give you credit - it’s the way a parent should act. I like to think I’d do the same thing in your place. But it’s useless.”

“You know, Kellogg,” Cherry said taking a step forward as calmly as she could.

With as much speed as she could muster, she brought the red hot coils down against his unarmored right shoulder. Whatever override Kellogg had used was shut down as the synths opened fire. But the sting of their energy weapons did nothing to slow her down.

“In a hundred years-”

Slam. Him on the ground.

“-when I finally die-”

Slam. Bat shattering his left knee.

“-I’m going to visit-”

Kick. His StealthBoy flying across the floor.

“-you in hell-”

Slam. Bat burning into his right knee.

“- just to kick your ass-”

Gage’s boot breaking desperate fingers reaching for a displaced gun. Cherry’s going for the other hand.

“-all over again.”

Kellogg’s attempt at pulling her down by her ankle interrupted by Dakota’s teeth tearing into the flesh of the offending limb.

“You think I’m just going to kill you?”

Cherry pressed her boot down on Kellogg’s chest and threw a perfect courtroom smile at him. She saw the exact moment he realized what was happening.

Gage was quick to slide the collar into place and activate it.

“No, no, no, Kellogg. You’ve still got things to say. And I’ve still got a son to find. Are you going to come along nicely or are we dragging you there?”

“Fuck you.”

“Alright, Gage. Take care of the rest. I’m going to give the place a once over.”

There was a sharp crack as the butt of Gage’s gun connected with Kellogg’s skull. But Cherry had gotten sight of a workstation in her peripheries. If Shaun wasn’t here, maybe some clearer answers were.

“Hey, boss,” Gage called out. “There a terminal over there?”

“Yeah.”

“Got a password you might wanna try.”

She typed in the stream of letters and numbers as he read them out. When he was done, he got to work tying Kellogg to a slat of metal that had rusted off of a desk.

“You still got the spare Calmex?” Gage asked, looking over his work.

“Med box.”

“Great.”

Glancing to Gage before burying herself in her work, she saw that he was stabbing the medication into Kellogg’s neck.

The terminal only had two available commands to execute. One was to open the maglocked doors. The other was to access a text file.

ACCESS LOG

Accesss: Local. Login: Kellogg

Notes: The boy, Shaun, successfully delivered back to the Institute, payment received. New orders to track down renegade, gathered reinforcements, cleared out and secured Fort Hagen. We move out soon.

“The Institute expects him on a job.”

“That so?”

Gage had made short work of stripping Kellogg down to everything but his underwear and securing him in the most uncomfortable position possible.

Now, Gage was sitting on his handiwork with a gun to Kellogg’s head and his chin in his hand.

“Something about a renegade. If Kellogg doesn’t give up anything about the Institute, this renegade might.”

“We’ve gotten more done with less information. Give him a few days to talk. Nothin’ comes of it? We’ll hunt down the next lead.”

Chapter Text

Kellogg was in the process of waking up now, had been for at least thirty minutes. Cherry and Gage dragged him through the streets of Nuka-Town, Dakota keeping people from getting too close. All the way from the entrance, the metal plate under him scraped against the cobbled roadways. There was a faraway touch of pride when she noted that there was no trash in their way.

The raiders hadn’t given more than an offer to take the burden off of Cherry’s shoulders. Gage only helped in so much as Cherry ordered him to clear the way.

Cherry had lived a long enough life of being smaller than average. She’d needed a step ladder to reach high shelves and was wont to make jokes about being warm blooded because she was closer to hell. But that had never meant that she couldn’t haul shit.

Heavy lifting was necessary in the work she volunteered for when she did reconstruction efforts in college. It was a skill that came in handy when she was roughing it.

It was the reason she knew that she’d be able to handle the weight of Kellogg stripped of everything but a collar and a yellow stained pair of boxers. The latter was a newer development. Probably because they hadn’t given him a single reprieve in the couple hours it had taken to move him down to the transit center.

The traders that had previously warmed up to her were clearly taking the show as a mixed bag. Because it was hard labor that Cherry wasn’t passing on to one of them. But she was still taking a collared prisoner off to undoubtedly be tortured.

And that was all that mattered to them. The blinking red light was very visible, even in the lamplight. Showing up after midnight made people who were awake go and get the people who weren’t.

Especially when the busybody Cherry had become looked pissed. She knew she did. If the look she had seen reflected in the windows was anything to go by, it was clear what Kellogg had earned.

Even the only other person she’d collared hadn’t had her dole out the punishment. The raiders that had held her eye were only the target of her disappointed faces in so much as they were bothering the freed traders. It hadn’t taken much to get them back in line.

Her anger up until this point was something she’d curated into a careful, calculated persona. No one had thus far, earned her undivided attention.

Clearly this asshole had done something unforgivable - something worth the Overboss calling on one of the gangs to take care of him.

And for it to be the gang that killed for the rush? Killed in new and inventive ways that could last for weeks?

This guy deserved what he was getting.

With a point to the lift and a whistle, Dakota sat proudly in place as Cherry and Gage moved on to finish up with their work for the night.

There were few places that Cherry hated as much as the Disciples’ cavern in Fizztop. After her first visit, she’d made it a point to only go in when it was necessary - technically, she did that with all the gangs’ lairs, but for the other two it was about keeping pretenses.

In this case, it was because of the blood. Pools of it in troughs. Dripping from severed heads that still had collars around the necks, sewn into place with crusted over thread. It wasn’t all that difficult for her to avoid it, but every so often a need to check in reared its head.

Cherry wasn’t able to physically steel herself the way she did when she was normally visiting. Not with the crowd that had followed her. She couldn’t take in her deep breath of mildly wretch inducing air before going into the building that was rank with coagulated viscera and pools of bile.

She was, however, pleased with the gagging of her prisoner from the ground below. Even with his mouth stuffed and taped shut, his disgust was audible.

“Well, Boss. Glad to see you’re back.”

“Nisha! I assure you, I’m very glad to be back. I brought you someone to play with.”

Nisha’s poisonous smile stretched into something unsettlingly genuine. Of all of the raiders in the parks, this was the one that Cherry needed to keep a thumb on.

There was definitely a use to having killers in her pocket. But there was something else altogether about having bloodlust driven mercenaries acting in her name.

“Of course,” Nisha purred, stepping in to put a reassuring hand on Cherry’s shoulder. “Savoy and Dixie built something just for him. I think you’ll like it.”

“I’d also like to talk with the people who’ll have access to him.”

“Absolutely. Would you like someone to take him?”

Cherry glanced down at the man who was now straining against the rope keeping him in place.

“Gage.”

“Yeah, boss?”

“Get him another dose of Calmex. I don’t want him getting ideas while we get him setup in his new living quarters.”

She could survive for weeks on the look Gage had in his eye - on the smile that might be in view of everyone, but was clearly just for her. Rabid and ready to put a bullet in anyone should she just say the word. Boyish in the earnest desire to follow that word to the letter.

“Sure thing. I’ll take him over once he’s out again. You can go check out the rig they’ve got. Bust the heads you gotta before we get to the fun.”

Cherry had only ever gone up the ramps and scaffolding to meet with Nisha in her quarters. This time, she was taken around the side to where concrete became permanently stained a deep rusted brown that revealed exactly where the floor was uneven.

The cage was a simple one, large enough to fit at least five prisoners, but a single chair was placed in the middle. There were two metal barrels both cut to be a foot and a half deep, one in front of the chair and another behind.

“The design of the actual facilities is admittedly, not our most elegant,” Nisha lamented as they got close enough for Cherry to see that what she’d thought were sandbags were actually cement. “But it’s the most effective for getting them immobile without drawing blood from the get go.”

“You know, I don’t think that would have occurred to me as an option. I’ll keep it in mind for the future.”

“Glad to enlighten. We’ll start with the getting the legs set. It’ll be easier to subdue him if he can’t walk. The weight of the concrete will also keep him from being able to run in the event that he was able to free himself. It’ll only be up to the mid calf or so.”

Nisha tapped the front barrel with the toe of her boot.

“It helps that you’ve gotten him drugged. Makes keeping him still to let everything set much easier than if he was just asleep.”

“And the other barrel?”

“Ah. That one will be for his arms. Same reasoning with the addition of being able to manipulate the distance between them.”

Cherry moved around to take a better look and saw that this cement barrel was rested on a flat furniture dolly that allowed someone to move it in any direction.

“Wouldn’t that also give him something to use as leverage on someone else. I want to be clear with something, Nisha. This guy is directly tied to the Institute. He’s been operating with them for at least the last ten years.”

Nisha hummed a sound of consideration.

“In that case, I’ll make appropriate adjustments. Something to lock the wheels. I was already planning on supervising at the very least, but if what you say is true, I’ll personally be one of the people who will be questioning your prisoner along with Savoy and Dixie. And there are two others I’ve hand selected for their…” her mouth pursed as she searched for the right word, “patience. It would be one thing if it was some gunner commander or a raider boss from the Commonwealth, but Colter never brought us someone for more than just letting off steam.”

Nisha fully faced Cherry now, tilting her head forward in at the very least an acknowledgement.

“I hope you understand what I’m giving you here, Nisha. I meant what I said before I left. He was going to pay just for what he did to me. Taking my son, that’s a personal issue. But from what I gathered in Diamond City, the Institute will likely try to throw a wrench in our plans for the Commonwealth. I want everything out of him.”

“You know, Boss. I wouldn’t want to give any pretense of affection for you. Especially not in front of the others. But I do have to admit, your tenacity for making this place worth a damn is admirable. I can recognize that the tribute from my raiders in Dry Rock is pitiful in exchange for what you’ve given us and what I trust you’ll continue to do. This is truly the least I can provide.”

The scraping of metal screeched from far down by the entrance as Gage started moving Kellogg towards his new home.

“Provide some answers for me,” Cherry said with a thin smile, “and I’ll get you some more breathing room come time to step into the Commonwealth. Something tells me that the rest of the Institute won’t be as fun to break - not as much of a challenge - but I think that a few of your Disciples want to know just how human-like the new synths really are.”

Nisha signaled to a Disciple standing far enough away that none of the conversation could be overheard.

“Go tell Savoy to get the crew together.” She called out with the ease of someone used to obedience. “The Overboss wants a word.”

It didn’t take long for Gage to arrive. The Disciples that would be taking shifts in the torture followed just behind.

“Shit, boss, you didn’t look like you broke a sweat pullin’ this shithead. Fucker’s heavy.”

“What can I say? Endurance is key.”

Gage snorted as he dropped the rope.

“As for the rest of you, I have a few very specific rules about what I want from your new toy.”

The two that Cherry hadn’t met yet - or at least had never heard the names of - straightened up as Cherry looked to them directly.

“Overboss, meet Ivy and Bec. They specialize in information extraction and keeping their targets alive for as long as possible. Of all of my Disciples, these two have proved themselves to have the most restraint.”

The women nodded as Nisha gave their names.

Ivy was a tall, thin woman whose mask was less face shield and more solid metal with a slit where eyes should be. Any details about distinguishing features was left to just her height because every inch of shin was fully wrapped away in draping cloth or armor. Even her hands were covered in thick leather gloves.

Comparatively, Bec’s light-skinned bare arms and stomach covered in tally mark tattoos was downright scandalous. Her head was covered in the same mask and hood, but that was where the similarity in their dress ended. Bec’s armor was heavy with rusted metal spikes and a jagged silhouette.

“Ivy. Bec. I haven’t had the pleasure of a formal introduction. Overboss Cherry.” She touched her hand to her heart with the caustic smile that she’d seen on Nisha earlier. “I hope you’re good at following instructions. Because I want to be very clear…”

It took every ounce of her self-control to not make her coming threat feel personal. Especially because Nisha was within arm’s reach.

“He is to remain alive until I say otherwise. I don’t care how you keep him that way. Stimpaks, pain, something creative. I don’t give a shit. You can have your fun, but if he dies before I give the word, the person who did it will take his place. Take your flesh. Take your blood. But take his life? I’ll be down here every day until I’m satisfied.”

Even Dixie stiffened as Cherry turned her gaze to each of them in turn.

“He has information on the Institute. I want all the information you can pull from him. He had orders to deal with a renegade. I want details. I want daily reports. He’d have been brought in for questioning at some point, but he made this personal. So I want his treatment here just as personal. Understood?”

“Yes, Overboss,” came the chorus.

“Until then, only you five have access to him. Anyone else so much as breathes in his direction, they’re in for a world of hell.”

“I can pass on the message.” Nisha assured. “Ivy you’ll also be  assigned to keeping the prisoner fed. Bec, you’ll be dealing with cleanup since we won’t be allowing anyone else in this section for the foreseeable future.”

If they were displeased with the additional orders, they were careful not to reveal anything in front of four of the people with the most power over them.

“Gage and I will also be coming down here between our park runs. In an ideal world, there will be something of worth to share by the time the next one’s cleared.”

“A question, Overboss,” Savoy said, giving no hint of any emotion, though Cherry thought she might have seen some hesitation in his twitching fingers.

“Yes?”

“You mentioned him being part of the Institute. Should we also prepare for potential issues with that?”

“He thought I was there to kill him. The Institute likely thinks they’re ahead of us on this. For now, he’s nothing more than a loose end they thought would take care of itself.”

Cherry looked down at Kellogg with consideration.

“That being said, he’s a professional. He was good enough that they’ve had him operating in the area long enough for him to develop a reputation. Don’t get cocky, get answers.

“Nisha, I’ll leave the rest of the work in your capable hands. I have some things to review. We’ll be meeting in two days about the next park.”

“Of course, Overboss. We’ll take care of everything from here.”

She needed a hot bath. She needed to sleep in a bed. She needed food and clean clothes and to sit in the dark for a bit.

She needed to not exist for just a minute.

The kids had been in the kitchen with Dakota when Porter and Cherry finally got home.

“Cherry Boss!”

Pins’ hug was the warmest that Cherry had ever felt. There was no denying that the kid was enamored. And that made a pit open in Cherry’s heart all the way down to her gut.

There wasn’t an individual who had to go down for Cherry to get her life back in some capacity. Instead, there was now a faceless amalgam of bodies, hands reaching out to grab what little Cherry had managed to scrape together.

All of this was conditional.

Her home, her kids, her position.

The only thing that she had that couldn’t get taken away from her was what she knew. And what she knew had a very limited ability to be useful on this grand a scale.

“What are you two doing up?”

“We saw from the balcony!”

Needles scrunched her groggy face into a mimic of Porter’s annoyed expression.

“The dickwads out there were loud as hell about the boss being back, so we figured we’d check it out from there.”

“Did you really get someone, Cherry Boss?”

“I did. But that’s not something for you to worry about. Head back to bed, and we’ll talk more in the morning, okay? We’ll sleep in and do a late breakfast.”

Cherry would have loved nothing more than to bottle up the sleepy excitement that lit up across the kids’ faces. She watched them trudge back to their elevator, Pins leading Needles by the hand.

Once the sound of machinery stopped firmly on the ground floor, Cherry collapsed into a chair at the dining table.

“What do you need?”

Porter hadn’t so much as shifted from his place since they walked into the main room. He still hadn’t. He was leaning against the empty frame doorway to the rest of the world. Her faithful guard through and through.

“I want a bath, but I need something to eat.”

“Alright. Go boil the water, I’ll dig through what we got for food.”

Cherry buried her face in her hands, muffling her voice, and groaned out, “I don’t want to move for the next ten hours.”

Her face heated at the strangled laugh that Porter made in response. Through gaps in her fingers, Cherry could make out that Dakota had padded up to him, sniffing at his legs. But she couldn’t see what that laugh looked like.

It was probably best that she didn’t. She was dangerously close to something that would add itself to the list of things that could be taken away.

“Well, if you don’t wanna, then you can stay covered in blood and sweat. I don’t give a damn.”

Cherry sighed, signaling for Dakota to come lay down at the foot of the chair. Obediently, the dog trotted over and collapsed in a heap.

“I feel drained, Porter. All of that was a lot.”

“Well, it would have been less drainin’ if you’d passed the fuckin’ asshole over for a minute or thirty.”

No. I couldn’t have. It needed to be me.

“I meant being in there. I don’t know how they can enjoy living in that.”

“Who knows. Pretty sure they only get the Gauntlet cleared out ‘cause it needs maintenance. Nasty shit if you ask me.”

Porter finally moved from his place in the door frame to the seat across from Cherry.

“You sure you need food right now? Don’t want you hurlin’ in your sleep.”

“Aw, Porter. You worried about me?”

He snorted.

“Go boil the water, you clown.”

“That’s Overclown.”

She begrudgingly stood up and went to the stove, set up multiple pots to boil, then marched to the recently updated left side bathroom.

What had once been a disgusting restaurant bathroom tested by time and Colter’s love of mannequins was now once again functional, even if the water ran cold.

The wash basin was a newer addition. In a perfect world, she’d have heated running water. For now, it was a wide metal tub that had been hauled from a derelict house on the outskirts of town. A gift from the traders when a couple had heard about her lengthy stay at home order.

Cherry had spent part of her downtime stripping it, painting the metal with thin coats of paint, then treating it with resin and painfully waiting for it to fully cure. It was the least labor intensive task she was able to do without Porter griping at her.

She had yet to enjoy a bath.

She still wouldn’t get to until she was able to get a decent stream of power going through the parks.

When Cherry had asked Porter why that hadn’t been done yet, apparently it had been the one thing Colter had listened to him about when it came to any long term plans.

Turning it on before clearing the parks of threats meant giving whatever might be in them the chance to do irreparable damage to the parks’ individual auxiliary power sources. Clearly there wasn’t a running system, but the reboot from turning on the main power would likely cause a full reset.

Cherry hadn’t gotten an answer out of him when she’d asked how he knew so much about it. Nothing more than a gruff, “It’s my job to know shit.”

“You know, it was a hell of a show you gave them,” Porter said, interrupting Cherry’s stream of thought.

She looked up at him from beside the tub slowly filling with tepid water from what had previously been the sink faucet.

“Who?”

“The Disciples. Don’t think I’ve seen Nisha look that sour when it wasn’t directed at me.”

“Did I fuck something up?”

“No.” He passed over a hastily made cram sandwich. “Total opposite. That’s what made her pissed about it. You’ve gotten your legs under you.”

“And what next? I just keep doing this bullshit? Another problem to fix and another and another? When do I get to actually rest?”

Porter shrugged, sinking onto the floor next to her, his own sandwich half-eaten and in the process of losing another bite. He leaned his back against the metal, gesturing with his food at the space between them as he chewed.

“This is not rest. This is pathetic.”

“No, what’s pathetic is the way you made Savoy and Dixie squirm. They’re loyal to Nisha, no doubt. But you established yourself in the pecking order.”

“I don’t trust them to give all the information they pull from him. If they can pull anything at all.”

“Good. Cause unless you can get one of those other two on your side, you ain’t gonna get the whole story right away. Or we handle it ourselves. But you ain’t got that time.”

“Nope. What I have is a sad sandwich and blood in my hair.”

His smile was lopsided, a private gift just for her. It wasn’t putting on a show or inciting her into action. It was just his instinctive reaction to taking an actual look over her.

It probably tasted like stale tobacco.

“Dunno. All looks the right shade of red to me.”

She gave an melodramatic sigh and finally bit into her first meal since tracking down Kellogg.

“Hey, Porter?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m just going to lean on you for a minute.”

He made no moves to stop her as she shifted into a more comfortable angle and pressed the side of her head into his shoulder. When she closed her eyes, it was as natural as breathing.

“I want to see him crawl,” she whispered. “I want to see him hurt and broken over and over again. To pray to gods he doesn’t believe in just for the hope that someone will listen. To make him understand exactly who he’s wronged.”

She turned her face up to Porter’s when she felt his stare boring into her.

“I told you. I’ll get you what you want.”

He definitely would taste like his cigarettes.

Stop. Disengage.

“Then, I want to steal your bed tonight so I can actually fucking sleep.”

He snorted, his shoulders shaking a little with silent laughter.

It was just like she’d hoped it was. Not relaxed, hardly even natural to see on his face. But the upturn of the space between his brows, the crinkle of skin in the corner of his eye, the good-natured disbelief as he shrugged her off his shoulder.

“Not on your fuckin’ life.”

“Too bad. Some asshat told me to take what I want. When I’m cleaned up, I’m taking that bed and crashing.”

“Overclown, you better get ready to be disappointed.”

In that exact moment, Cherry fully committed to signing away her soul, so long as she got to see that smile again.

Chapter Text

Strike him down now, she looked perfect in his bed. Downright born to be there with the way she curled up in on herself, clinging to her pillow.

“Rise and shine, boss” Gage said, tugging the blanket off of her.

Cherry rolled onto her back and stretched out as far as she could, her fingertips and toes barely skimming the frame of the twin bed. Even like that, the hint of where skin met the hem of her shirt gave him an urge to slip his hands under it and around her ribcage.

“Five more minutes,” she murmured, blinking up at him.

She had been true to her word in the most annoying way possible. Shown up in her night clothes, hair still damp, and flopped down on the mattress next to him like there was space for her.

He’d lasted maybe a solid hour before moving to pass out in the armchair a foot away.

Stirring in her sleep, asking if everything was okay. Moving  over her and caught dead in his tracks. Her hand - so goddamn gentle on his jaw - brushing, comforting. Even in her sleep she touched him like he was jagged glass.

“You’ve had thirty extra since I tried getting’ your ass up the first time. We got shit to do.”

Her grumble was muffled by her hands as she swung her feet down to the tile. Not bothering to move around him, she sighed and fully turned her face up to him.

Hand in her hair, pulling her up into his space. Marking territory, making it clear what was his. His space. His wants. His poison. The smell of her soap branding him . Wanting that smell to trail into him and out of him, strangling and dragging him down to his knees.

“What’s on the docket, then?”

“Traders brought in the report for the final count of supplies now that they’ve gutted the surrounding buildings in Nuka-Town. Also got a map of usable buildings.”

“Okay, we can go over that after lunch.”

Gage took a step back as Cherry moved to stand. Her teasing grin faltered as she took him in.

“Something wrong?”

“Yeah. I slept like shit cause someone took my fuckin’ bed.”

She had the manners to at least look apologetic.

“Thanks for letting me rest?”

“You owe me big time. I’ve been fieldin’ for you all mornin’ since Red Eye went and announced your great return.”

He followed her to the kitchen, folding his arms when she started digging through her box of clothes.

“What are people saying?”

“Lots of speculation on who you brought in. Questions about the next park. Oh. And this.”

He handed her the folder that he’d been pouring over for the last two hours.

Offers of fealty. He'd narrowed it down to a dozen from all kinds across the park.

Her eyes widened as she took in the pages that Gage had carefully copied down into something more coherent and then organized by the capacity for usefulness.

“Holy shit,” she whispered. Her coat and work boots lay forgotten beside her as she sunk into a criss-cross on the floor. “This is incredible.”

“There were more, but the ones I tossed were from those who would be better off in the dirt.”

“There’s traders in here.”

“Some of them are worth somethin’ and got the guts to ask to join up with you instead of whatever the fuck.”

Her eyes shot up to him.

“Ivy is in here.”

He nodded.

“The kids had been collectin’ these for a while now. Got a fuckton more while we were out, apparently. Traders were sneakin’ them in with deliveries. Some of the raiders caught wise, but kept their traps shut.”

“How long ago was this one?”

“Dunno for sure, but it was before we got back last night. They were on the counter when we got in.”

“Some of these names are familiar. Margo. She’s been working with Chip in repairs.”

“Yep. And as far as I heard, was doin’ damage control with the traders last night. Goin’ on about how you don’t collar innocents.”

“Looks like I’ll be making an announcement about our new VIP tonight,” her smile was serene. “Speaking of, we should pay him a visit before our rounds. Don’t you think?”

The entire back area was cleared of everything but the cage now and blocked out of sight with crates and barrels. Savoy stood by the opening that served as an entrance to Kellogg’s prison.

“Well, hey there, Conrad.” Cherry said, the sarcastic smile audible in her voice. “Enjoying your visit here at Nuka-World?”

A chain was wrapped tight around Kellogg’s middle, suspending him enough to put pressure on his limbs that were weighed down with the concrete that he’d seen them start mixing last night.

“Fuck you.”

“Hm. Not very polite. Nisha, can you do something about that, since you’re already attending to him?”

Gage knew he was on Nisha’s shit list - had been for months - but never once had she looked at him the way she was looking at Kellogg now.

There was only promise in her bloodstained teeth.

Gage was more similar to Kellogg than the boss would like to admit. In a different world, it could have been a coin flip over who was the one standing by her side.

The guy was someone who had also managed to survive longer than most in the business. Unfortunately, where Gage knew how to build a face for an operation, Kellogg had been content to let people know who he was.

Rookie mistake.

That was how he’d made sure that he was the one Nisha was slicing into with her knife.

“How are we doing this morning?” Cherry asked, not looking away from the screaming.

“We’ve just been doing some maintenance. He’s got a lot of bravado for someone we’re so graciously housing. Luckily, we’ve got some things to help lower his pain tolerance.”

“Oh you should have heard him yesterday. Quite the mouth. Likes to deflect with arrogance.”

“Don’t worry, Overboss. I’ll have that fixed soon.”

The boss nodded, looking over the rig.

“I also remembered before I came over that Lizzie from the Operators sent me out with something that might be more useful in this capacity.”

She waited for Nisha to finish pulling off a thin layer of flesh from Kellogg’s right forearm before passing over the grenades that she either hadn’t thought to use when they went to collect or had been saving as a resource.

“What exactly should this do?”

“According to Lizzie, it makes targets more susceptible to suggestion. I’ve only got three, but she did give me the instructions for making more.”

She shrugged with one shoulder, her winning smile fully on Nisha. Any traces of disgust at the surroundings was buried with an unabashed drive to get something out of Kellogg.

“I thought it might be something to play with.”

“Of course. I think Ivy would have the most effectiveness with them. She’s good at pressing buttons.”

“Noted.”

Cherry looked to her Pipboy before turning to Gage for the first time since entering the mountain.

“We have a minute before our next visit for the day?”

“Nothin’ until you give the word.”

“Nisha, could you let me have a run here? I’ve got something to work out.”

With a tip of her head and turn on her heel, Nisha left the immediate area, calling over her shoulder, “You can send Savoy or Gage for me when you’re done.”

Cherry didn’t respond, only motioned for Gage to keep by the door of the cage. Who was he to deny a front row seat?

She looked a lot better than the last week and a half. Tired, sure. But hardened. Getting this guy had fixed something fundamental in her.

There wasn’t a moment of hesitation as she stepped up to Kellogg, looked him full in the face, and pushed her left hand into the flayed section of his arm.

“How do I get to my son?”

Kellogg didn’t so much as blink at the contact. He also didn’t answer. She pulled away, her hand dripping with the blood.

“Knife, please.”

Cherry held out her clean hand and the handle of a spare knife was placed in her palm.

"Alright, Conrad. I'll talk for now. You can answer when you're ready."

Gage hadn't seen her use a knife in a fight, and aside from the thing with Nisha, she hadn't used one to threaten either.

Fuck. He'd promised her a knife like Nisha’s.

“Admittedly,” she said, wiping the blade twice over her shirt front, “I’m not as skilled as the Disciples at this kind of thing.”

The tip of the knife slid down Kellogg’s ribcage down to his hip. It pressed in on the joint, finding resistance and then the scream.

She waited for him to quiet before continuing in an even voice.

“Even so, I’ve been a little offended by the comments I’ve heard about how soft things were before the bombs. You all say Pre-War. Like the bombs were what actually set it all off. Like it was the only war we'd gone through.”

She pulled the knife out slowly, only an inch had been able to dig into him. That or she was practicing self-control like a motherfucker.

Slow, steady. Endurance is key . His breath caught under those eyes. Rotating through as many positions as they could handle. Building up sweat and sound.

She moved around to Kellogg’s other side, letting the blade drag across him the entire way.

“There was plenty happening before that. And I’m sure you have your tragic story about how you ended up in this place, but I couldn’t care less. You see-”

Based on the short scream, she must have pushed the knife in again.

“I grew up having to never show my fear. I grew up in a place that wanted me dead and didn’t even get to have something to protect myself with. Do you know what I ended up doing for a living? Did they have it in the files?”

Kellogg kept his mouth pinched shut.

“I was a lawyer. I don’t think there’s much use for that skill set out here. But I did have something else to my name.”

This time, when she went to pull out the knife, she cleaned it off on Kellogg’s chest. Streaks of his blood colored his pale skin.

Breaking through skin, teeth. Marking each other with everything they could. Tongue running down the spine. Teeth digging into hips, thighs, ribs.

“I come from a long line of organized activists. I mean some of them were active back in the nineteen-hundreds, if you can believe it. Probably more of an impressive concept of time to you. But for me, that was my great-grandparents. My grand-parents. My parents.”

For each generation, she slipped that inch of knife into his side.

“My dad said I wasn’t able to be a noted activist. It would have done too much rippling damage. But his grandfather worked with local gangs to make sure that the city had basics. Food kitchens and open shelters. They taught him some things. And he taught them to his son.”

She moved around enough that Gage could make out that she was running the knife down Kellogg’s spine.

“And that was passed down too. And then again. I learned how to field dress a deer when I was eight. Was able to do it with minimal supervision by the time I was thirteen.”

Her fingers brushing down  his back . So light he wanted to press into the touch, feel her. His brain shorting out when those fingertips turned into nails raking into him, carving him out.

“Hm. One of these thing’s not like the other, Conrad,” she taunted.

This time when he screamed, it was from a place of visceral pain. Spit flew from his mouth from whatever Cherry had gotten into. His eyes were open, pleading for release.

"Gage, come here."

Before she could finish her sentence, he was at her side - just a half step away.

"Have you ever seen something like this?"

"No, boss. One of the others might’ve."

Blood fell, like it should. Skin parted, like it should. The vertebrae that she'd shaved skin from, however was metallic.

She slipped her fingers around it, not shy about digging into flesh.

"You can tell me what this is, Conrad. Or I can call someone else to remove it."

Gage moved back around to see the look on Kellogg’s face. Everything he'd hoped it would be.

"You better answer the lady. She ain't the keenest about gettin' too dirty. Makes her upset."

“Best you got?” Kellogg breathed through the clear pain contorting his face.

“Nah. This is just the first day.”

Another piercing shout, unintelligible words.

“Conrad,” warning edged into Cherry’s voice from out of Gage’s line of sight. “You give me one thing today, and I’ll leave you back to Nisha.”

“Fuck. You.”

“Gage, go ahead and get a stimpak ready. Use it when he looks like he needs it.”

He pulled one off of a table outside the cage while Cherry moved around to meet Kellogg face to face.

Her knife and hand were coated in blood, slick and shiny in the light. There was no warmth in her face - no cruelty either. Just the look of someone at work.

“Last opportunity to volunteer something. I’ll even let you choose which of these you answer for me. Three questions to pick from. How do I get into the Institute?”

Kellogg met her dead eye for dead eye.

“What is that thing in your spine?”

Still nothing.

“Guess you’re answering this one.”

She leaned in close to his ear, still speaking loudly enough for Gage to hear.

“Have you figured out that you killed the wrong parent?”

Gage couldn’t see her face, but he could see the hint of fear in Kellogg’s eyes even as he didn’t open his mouth to give a confirmation.

Cherry pulled back and slashed the blade down Kellogg’s side, deep and long. The gash sprayed onto her as she exposed muscle to the rancid air.

There was calculation in where she decided the next slash would be, circling Kellogg’s body as she made laceration after laceration.

When Kellogg passed out, Gage put an arm up to stop the next fall of the knife. She didn’t even blink as she simply took a step back, heel sliding back in the pool of blood feeding the concrete.

The stimpak got to work knitting flesh back together and healing up the physical damage.

“We’re done for now. I think I need to clean up before our next meeting.”

Closing the cage behind him, Gage followed Cherry out to Savoy. And apparently a loose crowd of other Disciples. And Dixie. And Nisha.

“Well, Overboss. That sounded beautiful,” Nisha said, holding out a yellowed towel.

The boss took it, wiping her face off then her hands.

“There’s an implant in his spine. He doesn’t like you touching it.” Her smile was radiant. “He really doesn’t like you tugging it away from where it belongs.”

“Duly noted.”

“I have work to do. I expect a report after sundown.”

“Bec or Ivy will be the ones reaching out to you for those.”

Cherry nodded and moved past the masks. Gage was on her heels, keeping her steady pace until finally they were back in open air and he could move beside her.

They were silent as the lift went up to the deck.

They were silent as she pulled the plug that let anyone else follow.

They were silent as she stared at him.

He was silent as the tears pooled. As she slid to her knees, no sound leaving her mouth that tried to form words. As she looked up at him with the same longing for salvation that he’d seen from her before.

Begging for an answer that only he could provide.

Gage left only for as long as it took to grab her a bucket of clean water, a handful of rags, and a bar of soap. When she didn’t move to clean herself up, he took over in full.

“I need you to choke me.”

Her whisper tugged itself out of her throat as he rubbed the wet soap in small circles across her neck.

And it sure as hell wasn’t his imagination. Her voice or the way that her tongue ran across her lips. Her eyes all but begging him to take her.

“Right now?”

She nodded her head furiously.

“Coat off.”

She ripped it off like it was on fire.

One hand worked on clearing the blood off of her. It would just bother her in the long run. The other hand made a home around the base of her throat, slowly adjusting the pressure he gave her. With every squeeze, she let out a fluttering sigh.

When he was done with her neck, he moved to her face. Every streak and speckle was cleared out until three bloody rags were damp on the floor.

She was clay for him to play with.

Everything about her belonged exactly where it was. Her tears were his to use. Her adoration, affection, fear, rage, every emotion that he could dial into.

He could make her loud and brash, cold and harsh. And she could do the same damn thing to him if he let her. Like she let him.

He couldn’t imagine anyone else in the position she’d allowed him into. Not in any changed world. Not Mason, Mags, Nisha. Not the faceless husband she mentioned every so often.

Not anyone but the godforsaken asshole on his knees in front of her, wiping blood away from her fingernails. Her palm lines. Her wrists.

It wasn’t enough. He could see it in the teeth digging into her bottom lip.

“Make it go away,” her voice was thin, soft. His. “Please, Porter. No one else can.”

He needed to do to her what she’d done to him. How she’d taken over every other thought and aspect of his life. How she’d gotten him to the point of not needing orders to know what she wanted.

What she needed.

His brain stuttered when her arms wrapped around him. When her lips brushed against his jaw and trailed down the pulse of his neck. When she melted into his chest.

“Your room,” he breathed. “Now.”

No matter what happened from here, short of something world shattering, his ass belonged to her. And hers would belong to him.

Chapter Text

“Lay down.”

No questions, she obeyed. It was a relief. Not making the decisions of what to do next. There was plenty of space to choose from now that the room was empty aside from the bed-frame Porter had shoved into the corner before they’d left.

The tile was cool on her skin. Even through her clothes, the cold blossomed and clawed into her. Infected her with creeping vines that climbed into sinew.

She’d been unmedicated for too long. No prescriptions, alcohol, or even sex. After Shaun, there had been a disconnect with Nate and from there with anyone that she had tried being intimate with.

It hadn’t been in her plan. Shaun, a family, marriage. It wasn’t necessarily unwanted, but none of it had been something she’d longed for.

She’d always put a level of trust in her partners. They were all vetted. Each trusted to take care of her when she gave them every ounce of herself on a platter.

In all the years of parties and showcases, workshops and kink exhibitions, she could could count on one hand how many times things had gone too far. She was always careful. Her regular partners were equally so.

Every dip into something new was measured and on her terms. And her terms were just that. Hers. They changed only when she was ready for it. When she had weighed everything and decided that she was up for experimenting.

And if she decided that it was a resounding no?

End of discussion.

If someone was getting too close to feeling something more, she just had to step away. Just had to put up those barriers that kept away the feelings that made her want to possess. The want to dig herself into someone so completely that by the time she was done with them and they with her, only one thing was left standing.

Nate had thought he could handle it. Cherry knew he couldn’t. And really, if she was being honest, she didn’t want him to handle it. She didn’t want to be something with him. She wanted the safe distance.

She didn’t want to infect and take and break.

What she wanted was for someone to do that to her. She wanted to give up control and the closest that she ever got to that was in the bedroom or at a party.

Always safe. In public with a social contract and witnesses. In private with a long series of conversations and agreements.

Rarely ever like this.

“No one else is ever gonna see you like this. You understand?”

She could almost make out each string of thoughts, begging her to grab one and follow it all the way to the root of all her problems.

As though there were just one.

When Porter straddled her chest and grabbed her face in one hand, she nodded gratefully because with just that touch, the strings weren’t cut so much as they were wrenched away with a harsh fist.

A fist that was on her side. That had saved her before and was offering another type of safety.

His gaze bore down on her, appraising.

“Words.”

“No one else.”

“Good.”

He was being carefully rough with her. No lasting pain or bruise would make it onto her skin - she knew how that felt.

A fleeting hope crawled up into her chest, wanting something that would last. A new scar that only they would ever see on her skin. Something to replace the feeling she’d gotten in Kellogg’s cage.

Or maybe to nurture it.

“Tell me I did it right.”

“Did what?” he asked, hand moving from her chin to the base of her throat.

His eye followed the path, darting back up when Cherry answered.

“Hurt him.”

A shiver ran down her spine as they watched each other.

His voice was low, ragged with what she hoped was a matching desire, “Every raider in the place showed up just to hear you work.”

He was clearly testing the waters, but it was with the confidence of someone who had done this before. Someone else who knew how to distance intimacy and emotion.

Someone else who was prepared step onto the line and dance along it with reckless abandon.

He wasn’t doing anything that was unfamiliar to her. In fact, his palm was comfortingly pressed into her, living in the dip of her collar bone. The fact that there wasn’t even the hint of a question in his expression was all the more reassuring.

She could say when it was bordering on too much, but she wouldn’t have to interrupt him until that point. She trusted him in enough ways.

“It felt good. I didn’t want it to. But it did.”

“Good. He deserved everythin’ you did to him.”

He didn’t look away or even down to what he was doing as he added the lightest pressure to his fingers. The breath that left her lungs went out on a grateful trail up to him, desperate for more.

“Can’t wait to see you do it again.”

She drowned in the look in his eye, how his pupil dilated and focused in on her. The last time that someone had looked at her like that and it was reciprocated was a distant memory at this point.

Literally a lifetime ago.

Focus.

Porter’s lips curled into something predatory in how it promised her everything she needed. It was a promise to fracture her just right and put the pieces back together with something stronger than the glue she’d been using.

“I don’t want to think.” She didn’t care about the desperation. “Please.”

His fingers flexed, pressed into her pulse. The sigh of relief she let out sounded too loud against the beat of her blood. He was a hook in her, tugging Cherry higher and higher out of the pit that had been spreading through the fissures in her head.

The flush that ran through her banished the cold and filled her with a bone-aching desire. Wanton urges born of over a decade of putting her pleasure in someone else’s hands because it was so much more satisfying. To beg and crawl and give.

To let someone else have her.

To let go.

She stayed on the floor. She hadn’t been told to get up yet. And even as Porter stood back up, smirking down on her, she didn’t give in. Didn’t end the scene.

“Up.”

She stood.

“I’m not done with the Overboss for the day,” he said, stepping into her space. “So you’re gonna get changed.”

His hand trailed down her side, just barely touching her.

“You’re gonna sit in that chair of yours out there.”

Her stomach flipped when his palm pressed firmly into her ass, giving it a full gripped squeeze.

“By the time I’m done, there ain’t a single thought you have that I didn’t put there.”

The warmth of his hand ghosted across her spine until his grip was in her hair, pulling what little space there was closed. He held her there, making the shallowest of inhales last her a lifetime of pleasure.

“You sure that’s what you want?”

She hadn’t even realized she’d relaxed into his hand until he spoke. His question lacked either judgement or emotion.

“Should I ask someone else?” she teased, knowing what it would earn her.

She smiled around a moan when his hold on her hair adjusted to roughly pull her attention back to the moment. A tug in her stomach begged her to grab the reins again just to shove Porter onto his bed.

“And who would you ask?”

“I’ll go strip in an alley and get on my knees.”

It was his turn to catch his breath.

“Mighty bold. Any two-bit asshole could come along. Wouldn’t be anywhere near as accommodatin’ as I’ve been.”

She couldn’t help the soft whimper or the press of her hips against his. Every breath pushed their chests into one. Every one of her nerves held in place because she wasn’t told to act yet.

Cherry’s hips shifted, searching for a pressure that she knew would be denied. Sure enough, Porter’s free hand shoved her legs apart, but did nothing else.

His face shifted back and forth between aggravation and want.

“Look. You want this to be a one off thing? I’m more than happy to oblige. But if you’re lookin’ for somethin’… else, we gotta talk.”

Cherry sobered up, any lust and playfulness set to the side.

“Then lets talk.”

He chuckled, letting her hair fall around her shoulders. In the near empty room, his voice surrounded her entirely.

“Just like that?”

She sat on the plywood bracing herself for a variation of the conversation she’d had with every partner since she was in her mid twenties.

“Just like that. I’m not interested in romance. Or… I don’t need it. If that’s what you’re worried about. It’s never really suited my lifestyle.”

“What kinda lifestyle were you livin’ exactly?” he asked, moving to the threshold of the room so he could light up a cigarette.

Cherry loved the way he looked when he was being sincere. The hint of his sarcasm was always just behind his expressions, ready to jump back into place.

“Do you really want to know?”

“You mentioned some stuff earlier.” He shrugged. “Got me curious.”

“Alright. I’m an open book as far as you’re concerned. Do you mean in the realm of…” Cherry trailed off, gesturing at the air between them.

“Guess so. Not a whole lot of people who torture a man, start breakin’ down about it, then all but outright beg someone to fuck ‘em.”

Cherry wanted to sink into the dark look that crossed over him.

“It’s… a thing. I’m used to being stressed out. When I was an undergrad - around twenty,” Cherry clarified when Porter looked confused, “I slept around a lot. One night stands style things. I ended up meeting someone that was really good at helping me work out stress.”

“So what? Just fuck you until you were straightened back out?”

“At first, yeah.” Cherry laughed. “But then she introduced me to a group that hosted these parties. And I started to figure out that I felt the most at peace when someone else was… using me. It’s hard to be stressed about a big project that’s coming up when you’re getting spit-roasted in a crowd.”

If Porter was uncomfortable with her admissions, he didn’t say anything. In fact, his face had become decidedly neutral. His cigarette was all but forgotten between his fingers.

“After a few years, I learned more about myself. There were underground exhibitions for people like me who also didn’t have a solid partner. Since it was all monitored, there was a safety to it. I could put on a literal mask, and suddenly I wasn’t pushing through law school, I was a number and a function.”

He made a noise of surprise, but otherwise didn’t interrupt.

“I know. It’s not for most people. But I genuinely enjoyed it. Still do. When you’re expected to make life altering arguments or decisions as a job, it’s nice to have someone else take control. But most people look for relationships.”

“And you don’t?”

“I’m not… against it.” Cherry looked to the chipped ceiling. “It’s just that a lot of the time, when I found someone who was available and not interested in romance being tied to it, there were issues with boundaries. The worst one wanted to control everything about my life - which wasn’t what I was looking for.”

“So what do you want from me?”

He took a drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke out over his shoulder to dissipate into the kitchen.

“I don’t want to ruin what we’ve got. You’ve been good to me, and I don’t want to complicate things beyond-”

“Not what I asked.”

Cherry’s face snapped to his impassive one.

“If I get overwhelmed with things - I mean as Overboss, not just when we’re out running around - I’d… like it if you could…”

Cherry’s face grew hot as she realized that she’d instinctively run a finger across her scars the way that Porter had done the other day. Soothing her more than anything else ever had.

“Could what?” So neutral it had to be practiced.

“Could take control for a little while. And in a perfect world, choke me until I pass out.”

He let out a short snort.

“Wait. You're serious?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Ask you? Or the choking?”

His mouth opened and closed as his face went on a journey she was used to seeing. Disbelief and a little bit of curiosity.

“Either? Both.”

“I trust you.”

His eyes widened in clear surprise that he didn’t even bother trying to push back into place.

“You’ve done more than you ever had to for me. And you at least respect me enough to listen when I say no. And it’s not just because of who I am.” Cherry averted her eyes as she added, “Also, I feel safer around you.”

She heard the cigarette hit the ground and turn into a soot spot under Porter’s heel. Then his footsteps coming closer to her. Then him sitting only a few inches to her side - good eye to her.

"And as for the choking, I just... like it."

“So what would be changin’ exactly?”

“Not a whole lot. Just that we’d be having sex every so often. And it wouldn’t have to be me requesting. You could too… if you wanted.”

Porter took in a deep breath, letting it out in a slow and controlled puff.

“Gotta ask, not cause I give a shit personally but because part of what I do is keep an eye out for you. You really don’t you want that romance crap involved?”

Cherry looked at him again. It was an honest question, and based on his body language, not a thinly veiled probe for something more.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m a little protective over the people I care about.” Cherry smiled fondly. “I used to fall in love left and right as a kid. I hospitalized full adults for hurting the people I loved.”

Porter was clearly holding in a laugh.

“I’m serious! I’d get into fights over the littlest things. I’ve mellowed out a lot over time.”

“That ain’t it.” He ran a hand across his face, wiping away any trace of his amusement in favor of a piercing look at her heart. “You’re a raider now. Hangin’ out with raiders. Anyone here would be thrilled to have you beat the shit out of someone for ‘em.”

Even you?

“Yeah, but I can’t go around doing that to just anyone, can I? Besides, that was the other reason for asking you.”

“What is?”

“If I did just go find someone else out there, wouldn’t it look like I was showing preferential treatment to one of the factions? And I doubt that there’s a good kink community anymore.”

Porter nodded in thought.

“Fair. Colter was more into kickin’ a hungover fling out of the bed in the mornin’s than findin’ a dedicated person to fuck.”

“What about you?”

“Sex is sex,” he said, shrugging. “More of a fan of gettin’ other people off. Got caught with my pants down a couple times as a younger dumbass. Literally. More trouble than it’s worth.”

Cherry’s giggle earned a flick to the side of her head.

“But you’re not looking for something serious?”

“Hell no!” he griped. “This ain’t the kinda life where shit like that works out, and that’s perfectly fine with me.”

“So would… this be more something you’d be up for?”

“I’d be willin’ to try it out. Worst case, we have a nice tumble in the hay.” His hand closest to her drifted up her thigh. “But I think I might like a more in-depth idea of what you’d let me to do to you.”

He slid a finger down the zipper of her jeans. He didn’t so much as blink when Cherry’s legs buckled, only smirked.

“What do you want to try?”

She wanted nothing more in that moment than to bite into the smile he gave her.

His head dipped closer to her ear.

“You wanna climb in my bed tonight? You’re gonna show me how much you want that. Ain’t anyone I ever touched that had a place there.” He moved away. “So let’s see if you earn it.”

Her exhale sounded vaguely like the word “fuck.”

“If you’re lucky. But for now, I want you dressed and ready to finish that to-do list.”

Chapter Text

“I’ve narrowed it down to these five,” Cherry said, shuffling through the papers on the coffee table.

Gage had moved her onto the deck. Her sofa chair was a wonderful reprieve from the floor she’d been kneeling on for the last hour as she poured over the pages and pages of potentials.

“Good. Who’re we lookin’ at?”

She passed him the handful of pages.

“Ivy, Margo, Digger, Sugar, and Cenizo.”

“Cen? Seriously?”

Cherry nodded, taking a sip of her tea.

“You said we want a good mix for the first group. He’s the most traveled out of everyone in the stack. He’s also the oldest of the batch.”

“Alright,” he said, stretching his arms out over his head. “I’ll go get ‘em. Put your coat on and wait here.”

“Not Ivy.”

Gage raised an eyebrow and shifted out of the way to let Cherry pass by him and grab her Overboss uniform.

“I don’t want Nisha knowing that Ivy put in to work under me directly. Not with her also being on Kellogg. It’ll be our best way to make sure that anything he says actually makes it to me.”

He nodded once and was gone.

She had no room for fantasizing on how Porter would make good on his promise. There would be time for that later. For now, she needed to figure out which angle to come at this meeting from.

Choosing who would be the first real followers for her crew had been easier than she thought it would have been. The real pain in the ass was playing out the game of 4-D chess.

Sure, everyone knew she was planning on having people under her protection, but that didn’t mean anything if no one enforced shit. And while she and Gage were cleaning out parks or getting things done, she needed people here to keep things in order.

She needed more than just whoever would listen to Gage. More than the traders acting in good faith. She needed her own people.

The fifteen or so minutes it took for Gage to show up with the new faces was enough time for Cherry to put her mask on. This one had to be tailored for her audience. A perfect match for the jury.

“Good afternoon, everyone.” Cherry smiled, but didn’t stand. Instead, she gestured to the couches surrounding the same coffee table, pages of all the others that hadn’t been invited still in their respective piles.

She’d originally sorted them by allegiances. Factions. If anyone here could read, they’d be able to tell.

Gage stepped into his place at her side, solid and standing above anyone else who might get too close.

Cenizo, an older man who looked vaguely like a basset hound, was the first to sit. He took up a fair amount of space on the couch to Cherry’s left where Mason usually sat. Like Mason, Cenizo let out an air of confidence that you could only get from being used to a certain level of perceived safety.

He was followed by the hesitant Sugar. She was just over the age Cherry had grimly allowed for recruits. Her dark hair hair was braided into a long plait that ran down the front of her shoulder. Her nerves were clearly on edge from the way she constantly fiddled with her glasses.

Margo’s blue eyes shifted to Cherry and then to Digger who just watched through the large, reflective eyes of his crow mask. Carefully, she moved between the table and couch, not bumping into anything. When she sat, it was less on the couch and more in between the cushion and the arm.

Digger immediately collapsed into the cushion, giving Margo a wide berth while still stretching himself as far as he could. His bright colors and long pink-dyed hair were a heavy contrast to Margo’s grey clothes and expression.

“Would any of you like something to eat or drink?” Cherry asked once they were settled.

Aside from Margo who kept her eyes on the ground, the group looked uneasily at each other then to Cherry.

“Gage, go ahead and grab the snacks I made earlier. The tea too.”

“On it, boss.”

“A formal introduction.” Cherry clapped her hands together. “I think out of everyone here, I’ve only spoken with Margo. Of course, I know your names, but I don’t necessarily know you. This meeting is to fix that and give you a chance to see who else is on your team.”

“Our team…” Sugar started, lifting her eyes up from where Gage had put down a plate of thick bread slices slathered with honey and jam.

Cherry fixed the young Operator with a gentle smile, not the salesman or courtroom staple, but closer to the one her mama had given the local kids when they were being rambunctious in the streets. Fond and warm.

“Feel free to eat. I made it myself.”

Digger reached to the plate first, casual as though he knew exactly what was happening.

“Thanks, Boss.” He lifted the slice up in cheers and took a large bite from under his mask. “Been looking forward to this for weeks.”

“Weeks?” Sugar asked.

“Yeah.” He wiped crumbs from his chest before taking another bite. “Left my note after she collared that pissant in the Market. Just figured you weren’t interested in my offer.”

The last sentence was directed at Cherry, who was smiling at how enthusiastic he seemed.

“I’m not looking for a 'new Gage' at the moment, thanks.”

He shrugged goodnaturedly with a cackling laugh.

“Makes sense. I’m not exactly bodyman material.”

“The reason you’re all here is because each of you have not only shown the initiative to reach out and offer your services, but also,” Cherry gestured with a cavalier hand to the stacks littering the table, “I’ve picked each of you out of all of these.”

Cenizo whistled, finally deciding to go for the plate.

“So we’re the cream of the crop?”

“Claro que si. Not just anyone could make it all the way here from New California.”

Cenizo blinked at her before a grin broke over his face and he dug into his food with gusto.

“So then what about her?”

Digger tilted his head to Margo who shifted herself even deeper into to side of the couch.

“Margo has been indispensable. And I hope that the rest of you will be too. I have things that need doing, and I only want the most competent under me.”

Sugar seemed to puff up at that, her small hand wrapped around her cup of tea. She was only barely an adult and had clearly been relatively well fed until recently.

“Gage, if you would.”

Cherry gestured to the handful of pages he held in his hands.

“Digger,” Gage said, reading off of the dossier, “scavver. Been doin’ steady work in the arena since the opportunity came up. It was his idea to map out the surrounding buildings once the Market was near done.”

Digger nodded, his hair brushing against the edges of his mask.

“Heard about the boss wanting to actually fix the place up. Might not know how to do that, but I can tell the good materials from the bad.”

“I heard,” Cherry said, sliding a glass of tea closer to him, “that you’re the reason the organization in the arena has been so smooth. You’ve been directing people and keeping the other raiders off of the traders.”

“Someone needed to. Otherwise I wouldn’t have gotten my pay. And the good food isn’t what gets passed out.” He waved a new slice of bread for emphasis. “It’s not exactly complicated.”

“No. But it is unusual enough that you’ve earned a reputation for it. And I appreciate you keeping an eye out on the workers.”

“Grew up in a scrap heap. Knew how to do this kinda thing before I could walk. If that shit can be useful to you, it just means I get better security around here.”

Cherry added that information to the secondary dossier on him.

“Margo,” Gage said, cutting off any further tangents.

The woman gave a nervous wave now that everyone’s attention was fully on her, but kept her eyes on the table.

“Trader. Been usin’ her earnin’s from work to pay off the price for the older traders. Gotten two off collar so far between work and doin’ repairs. Works in rebuildin’ and currently an apprentice under Chip.”

“It’s very impressive work.” Cherry said, finally pulling all of Margo’s attention to her. “Not everyone has a head for what you’ve been able to do. And you’re one of the few traders that’s actually shown an interest in finding middle ground.”

She nodded enthusiastically, but aside from her eyebrows rising a little bit, her face remained neutral.

“I think there’s a benefit to having the raiders around if we’re not working as slaves. And I heard about the plans to have a separate living space for traders that stay on. About how we’ll be able to still work the market and get full protection. Chip told me about…” she withered a bit under the stares from the others who seemed amused by her sudden energy.

She turned her eyes back to the table.

“Go ahead.” Cherry grinned at her, “You’re equal to them, Margo. You don’t have to pretend you’re scared.”

“About lighting up the parks,” she finished, looking back up.

Margo’s spine straightened out and her back was fully to Digger, unafraid of the proximity. She nodded gratefully to Cherry before continuing.

 “I’ve thought about it since I first got here. I’ve only worked on small generators in the arena and Market. But if I can help get power running everywhere, it would be easy on everyone.”

“That’s one of my goals.” Cherry replied, “Long term, unfortunately. Gage and I still need to clear through Safari and Galaxy before we can safely try the main power generators.”

“So it’s true?” Sugar asked, awe clear on her face. “It’s only ever you two that goes through the parks? I thought Red Eye was just making it up.”

“It’s true. Though, that may change for the last two. Gage, can you read out Sugar’s qualifications?”

Sugar sat up straight and put on the attitude of a model student preparing to solve a math problem on the chalkboard.

“Sugar. Been here for three months under the Operators. Lived in Diamond City until then. Before that, lived in the Capital Wastes.” She could hear the uncertain frown in his voice as he read out, “Former squire in the Brotherhood of Steel.”

At the clearly confused looks around the table, Sugar looked directly to Cherry.

“It means that I had a formal education. I can read, write, and have a working knowledge of basic Pre-War tech. We left when I was eight, during the Schism. But my aunt and uncle taught me everything they knew.”

“With a background like that, why did you choose to join with raiders? These raiders no less?”

Cherry refilled her tea.

“I…” Sugar’s confidence waned. “I wanted to get away from the Institute. I figured out that they don’t seem to operate outside of the Commonwealth. And this was the best place that’s fortified. I thought I’d be useful…”

“But?”

“I’m not a good raider,” Sugar admitted, bashfully. Her shoulders slumped a fraction. “I’m pretty sure I wasn’t collared only because Lizzie finds me useful in transcribing for her.”

Digger shuddered and leaned back into his seat.

“If you can deal with that whack-job every day, you’ve got some kind of kind of guts.”

Sugar nodded to herself and seemed pleased with the confirmation that she was doing something impressive. Her long braid patted her shoulder with each movement.

“And last but not least,” Cherry said, “Cenizo.”

“Oye, Jefa.”

Cherry couldn’t help the smile this time. It felt like ages since there was someone she could speak Spanish with. The vendor in Diamond City had been a nice surprise, but would never be a permanent fixture in her life.

“Cenizo.” Gage read out, and Cherry could hear the eye roll that came with the name. “Came over from New California. Worked with raiders from there to here until getting in with Colter. Won’t shut up about it. Old. As balls.” Gage sighed. “Self-proclaimed lucky son-of-a-bitch.”

Cenizo’s smile was mischievous around his laid back attitude.

“I’ve survived the hits on me all the way here. Almost moved on again cause, you know… valió verga.”

He glanced at Cherry to see if she was offended by the swearing, but continued on when there was nothing but an amused quirk of the lips.

“Pero, I figured you’d been here long enough that I could put my name in the ring for anything you need. Even con este hombe con cara de monstruo merodeando.”

Cherry snorted and glanced up at Gage whose frown was only deepening and his eye had moved to the ceiling. He was being very professional, though Cherry thought there was a soft, very well pronounced, “mamon” from his direction.

“‘Lucky’ doesn’t exactly match the name, eh Cenizo?” Cherry laughed.

“Estoy engañando a los ojos de Dios, Jefa.”

He tapped at his temple then up to the sky as though there was actually a god looking over him.

“¿Un religioso?”

“¿En el infierno? Siempre.” He emphasized his point with a rough jerk of the thumb over his shoulder to the rest of Nuka-World.

Cherry shook her head with a laugh. She’d gotten so caught up, that she hadn’t noticed the confused faces turning from her to Cenizo.

“Back to business. I’ve got work for each of you before I head out to the next park in a few days.”

They all straightened up.

“Wait, seriously?” Sugar asked. “Just like that?”

“Why not?”

Heavy silence fell as Cherry leveled each of them with a firm gaze, also stolen from her mom. The one that would burrow into her when she was being particularly rude.

“I want to make something clear here. I can only keep you under my direct care if things line up the way that you need them to. And that requires a little bit of legwork first. By ‘under my care,’ I mean that your authority in your respective roles would be an extension of mine. The same way that Gage was able to walk into your bases and pull you without questions.”

Margo’s breath caught and eyes widened.

“Even-”

“You too. You’ve proven yourself to me. I wasn’t lying earlier. You are the only person in this group - in the entirety of anyone who sent offers in - who spoke to me independently. And you did it without expectation. I can use that kind of bravery.”

A blush crawled across Margo’s pale face, the only proof of an emotion there.

“Right,” she paused, eyes flicking down to her wringing hands and then back up, “boss.”

“Sugar and Digger. You two are the only ones here that have ties to specific gangs. I won’t tell you to leave them, but I will ask that you leave whatever work we do here out of everyone’s mouth. Tu también, Cenizo. This isn’t something to brag about.”

Digger ran a finger down the beak of his mask before slowly pulling it from his face. Brown eyes surrounded by thick black paint and tanned skin met hers.

“Boss, you’ve had me on your side for a while now. Want me to leave the Pack? I know all the places in this park that I can sleep. I don’t give a shit about that. You want me to stay there and get info for you, I’ll do it.”

“Why so dedicated?”

His jaw worked as he alternated between looking at the mask in his hand and bending it under his hands.

“You’re the one that got us to where we are. Not Colter. Not Mason… I’m a lot of things, but I’m not stupid. I know how the wind is blowing. Soon, all the assholes that make this place hell are going to be out there. I’m not looking to be one of them.”

He looked back up to her face. It was hard to get the full expression, but there was an unmistakable longing there.

“I’ve got something here. I’m good at what I do. Don’t care about my rank in the Pack. Haven’t for a while.”

Because she was looking anywhere but at the others, Margo couldn’t see Digger’s eyes purposefully not looking in her direction. It had been one of her and Gage’s careful calculations.

Digger: Spends time exploring the ruins when he can get away with it. Saw Margo defend another trader who had been caught sleeping. Has been infatuated with her since. Carefully leaves caps and trinkets in places he knows she’ll be working. Hopeless romantic.

He opened his eyes, jaw set.

“Whatever you need, I’ll do it.”

“Same here, boss.” Sugar stood up, hands on her hips. “Where I’m at now, I’ll be an assistant to Lizzie for the rest of my life. I’m not… I’m not like the rest of them. They won’t even put me on patrols. And working for Lizzie is… fine.”

“You don’t like it?”

“The work isn’t an issue. It’s just that she isn’t always very objective. It’s not the science I’m actually good at. Give me tech! I’d rather be stuck refurbishing old motherboards than just taking notes on her experiments all day.”

Sugar: Desperate to please. Not kind, but not cruel. Good with computers and programming. Would have joined with Cherry directly if it had been an option. Quiet. Careful. Inquisitive. Not a raider.

Cenizo sighed and finished off his drink.

“Mamá Jefa, I don’t have a whole lot of skin in the game. Technically speaking, you already own me - no me fui cuando lo mataste Colter.” He mimed pulling a pin from a grenade with a click of his tongue. “I stuck around cause it was the right way to go.”

“And cause you’re too damn old to die anywhere else,” Gage muttered. The first time he’d spoken loud enough to hear without prompting.

Cenizo’s smile looked tired.

“Y yo soy tu problema. You and I made it this long for a reason. These kids,” he waved at the air, “they need someone to keep them from running straight into death. How else would we stay in this cushy place, huh?”

Cenizo: A litmus test for the bulk of the raiders. Won’t be too helpful, but won’t get it into his head that he can make a play. Survivor. No illusions of grandeur and a has a soft spot for the younger raiders. Talks big, but really just wants to leave something for the next generation.

“What about you, Margo?” Sugar asked, genuinely interested. She ran her hands over her braid, eyes wide.

Everyone turned their attention to the trader.

“If you’re worried about someone hurting you, I can’t do much, but I’ve got access to Lizzie’s projects.”

Cenizo chuckled around his glass.

“I have a question for you first, boss.”

For the first time since she sat down, Margo’s voice was firm. She wasn’t shying away from anyone. Cherry smiled at the direct eye contact. Ice meeting steel.

Margo: Careful, but not fearful. Good with machines. Good with people. Affects a flinch when a raider talks to her directly. Causes distractions when weaker traders get into trouble. Has only been caught causing trouble once. By one Porter Gage.

“Who was that man you brought in last night? With the collar.”

“A mercenary.” Cherry responded immediately. “He kidnapped my son before I got here. I’d like him back.”

Margo nodded slowly.

“You didn’t bring him as a slave.”

“No. Slavery has no place here. I want the people who are here to want to be here.” Cherry turned her face to the window, watching the tree branch tapping. The leaves had started falling away. “This place has started to feel like home. I want it to be better. Not because I’m in charge, but because I want to see this place mean something.”

“And when you collared that Pack boy, you didn’t make the decision.” Not a question, so much as a recalling the events.

“It wasn’t mine to make. He wasn’t one of my people. He was Mason’s.”

“I thought you were all one group.”

Cherry turned back to Margo with a shake of her head.

“We will be. When I’m done, there will only be one organization. For now, we make do with what we have. And what we have,” Cherry spread her arms, sweeping them out to cover everyone at the table, “is you all. If you agree.”

Margo looked around at each person, eyes lingering for a moment on Digger who still kept his mask in his hands.

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

Every ounce of confidence that she pulled from the air was fueled by maintaining this scene. By keeping her mask fully in place.

The King to Gage’s Kingmaker.

“Gage, go ahead and give them their instructions.”

“Cen, you’ll be getting intel. The boss needs info on Safari next. We haven’t gotten any word on what’s goin’ on out there. You’ve got two days to get us a clear enough picture without compromisin’ anyone.”

“You got it, Jefito.”

“Digger and Margo, you two will be workin’ together. The map is good enough for here, but she needs the same thing done in the other parks we’ve already cleared. You’ll start with Kiddie Kingdom.”

“But my collar-”

“Won’t be a problem,” Cherry said. “Come tomorrow, you’ll be fully off of a collar and able to move freely.”

Digger’s eyes widened in awe. Margo just stared.

“Sugar, your job is settin’ up lesson plans for gettin’ about twenty people literate enough for basic communication. We want crews goin’ out into the Commonwealth able to send back information. That means they need to know how to read and write. You’ll start with these three.”

“I can do that. Easy.”

“I’ll be expecting reports regularly,” Cherry said. “We’ll meet again in two days. For now, you’re dismissed.”

Chapter Text

When the room was cleared, Cherry finished off her drink and turned up to Gage, still standing at his place by her side.

“Next?”

He prided himself on keeping his cool in general, but it was a whole different beast when she looked at him like that - as though he was the one who’d made sure the sun came up in the mornings and the moon at night.

They’d butted heads for the first bit, but turning on each other had gone from being an act of mutual destruction to a choice they were both refusing to make.

“Figurin’ out what the marchin’ orders are for while we’re gone.”

“And after that?” Her voice was steady, but he didn’t miss her pulse jump in her throat.

Hand around her neck, squeezing. Her sigh of pleasure from that alone. Adoration pouring out of her like a dam breaking. The tiniest gasps and whines. Wanting more. Wanting to do more.

Porter’s thumb was pressed into her bottom lip before he could get a grip, pulling it just low enough to make a space for his finger to press through.

“I take away that brain of yours for a little while.”

Goosebumps battled her freckles for territory when Gage slipped his thumb between her lips, just enough that she could have darted her tongue out for a taste.

And when he saw her process the chance, it was gone.

“I…” Cherry brushed her mouth with her fingertips, tracing the place he’d been, “actually had an idea about Mackenzie. Something to test out Ivy.”

“That so?”

Gage pointed at her and then motioned for her to stand up. She moved like that finger controlled her body. As far as she needed to be concerned, for the day, it did.

He took her seat, then pointed at his lap.

Grinding her into dust. Her ass against him like it could get him out of his pants faster. Hand in her hair, twisting her until his teeth could claim her throat and shoulder and anything else within reach. Her moans as his fingers worked her into a frenzy.

Cherry glanced at the lift, still plugged in. At the windows, above the line of anyone else’s sight but still in broad daylight. Back to Gage who just sat there expectantly.

The thrill of not getting caught had always been something that he’d enjoyed. Whether it was turning someone into little more than a puddle in an alleyway to eating someone out a room away from their spouse, he’d never cared.

Sex was sex, sure. But it was also a kind of power you had over someone else - and he knew how to take the power he deserved. He’d never understood why someone would want to take a quick rut at someone that couldn’t say no when you could have someone begging for you to take every ounce of power they could give you.

Cherry wouldn’t be the first person above him that had asked. But she was the first who hadn’t gone straight to pulling rank. And he hadn’t even needed to admit that he’d been thinking about it. This was all her.

Gage was never the one to initiate, but he sure as hell had always been able to see it coming from a mile away even if he hadn’t put the idea there. When he was younger, it was someone looking to take advantage of an impressionable little raider with an eye on moving up the ranks.

As he got older, it was usually for the chance to feel like they had actual control over him or to move up the ladder themselves, as though he wouldn’t dream of turning if he was in their bed. It was a game like any other.

And here was the woman who held hundreds of raiders in her hand - had just established her first real play for true control. A woman who could have ordered him to give her what she wanted.

And what she wanted was for him to take - to do what he did best. Had even insisted that it would be nothing more than sex when they wanted, how they wanted. No extra game of it. Just some good old fashioned fun between the sheets.

Cherry moved to his lap, legs straddling his thighs. She braced her hands on the backrest to keep her balance, and damn did the heat on her face look good.

She even had a hard time looking him straight, which he found odd considering that he hadn’t told her how to sit in his lap.

She’d purposefully chosen a position that embarrassed her. Something that would definitely be compromising if anyone happened to walk through the door.

His cock stiffened under her,and he pressed it up against her. The action brought a smirk to his face and a soft inhale to hers.

She schooled her expression back into some level of control and finally answered him.

“Nisha said Ivy’s the best at getting information out of people. I want to see how good she is outside of torture.”

Gage nodded, toying with the waistline of her pants. He kept his face blank as she started to fidget under his touch. He could hear her nails digging into the upholstery on either side of his head.

“Tryin’ to get a confession out of the doc?”

“That’s part of it. I also want to start looking for a replacement and medics for each park. If we can’t get anyone, I want to see about hiring someone from the Commonwealth to train others. I want to see about Ivy being our information broker.”

Gage’s left hand pressed into her back, shifting her forwards so that their faces were closer together.

“Too bad that we don’t know who’s givin’ that report tonight, huh?”

His hand moved to palm her skull before closing around her hair in a fist. He could have bent her over the counter on the spot with the gasping moan she gave him.

“I can’t have my way with you until that list of yours is done.”

Cherry tried and failed to press her thighs together, looking for all the world like she was relishing the soft tug he used to manipulate her head back into its original place.

“Please?”

“Please what?”

Her soft pant and thrust of her hips against him would have served as answer if he wasn’t having so much goddamn fun with her right now.

“That ain’t an answer, darlin’.”

That damn name again, slipping through as easily as “boss” would have. But the way that her expression softened into complacency - into longing - was too damn good. He’d say it again and again if she’d crawl into his lap like this whenever he wanted.

“Please get me off, Porter.”

Porter. Porter. Porter. Sheets twisting around them. More than just giving her orgasm after orgasm. More than just getting her off and calling it a night. Breaking her, just like she’d begged him to. Ruining her for anyone else.

Unfortunately for her, Gage intended to stay true to his word.

“I will. Once, we get that report you asked for. Until then, you’re gonna stay nice and wet for me. I told you,” he used his right hand to trace a line down her side and thigh. “You ain’t gettin’ so much as a finger in you until I say we’re done for the day.”

She whined for him.

“Please? I’ll be good.”

Fuck.

He relaxed his grip on her, and it hit him exactly what he was getting into if this turned into something more than just a one off.

Her, naked and soft in his bed. Hands on his shoulders bracing as she rode him until she collapsed. Biting into a pillow to muffle her cries. Hands holding onto her hips for dear life, thrusting and shoving her onto him as deep as she could take. So goddamned close. Porter. Darlin’. Porter. Darlin’. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“I know you will. You’re gonna go make sure that we don’t get interrupted later. And you’re gonna think about what you want me to do to you. Cause I got too many ideas for just one round.”

God, her flush and bucking hips. He was too stiff to keep her on him like this, but he didn’t want her anywhere else.

“Think you can wait until then? Or did you want to keep torturin’ yourself?”

“Can I touch myself?”

She was going to fucking kill him.

“Not so much as a finger,” he murmured, gripping her hips and shoving them up against his.

Her moans, tongue, lips - all of it - tasted like her fever-blossom tea with sugar.

Their bodies relaxed into each other, meeting muscle for muscle. When she bucked against him, he returned the action. When he stopped kissing her to bite at her lip, she gave him the softest exhale.

Her fingers were caught in his shirt and his in hers.

“That’s all you’re gettin’ until you’re done,” he said, catching his breath.

She nodded before letting him peel her away. It was a testament to his self-control, because this would have been the perfect time to run her ragged.

Instead, he pointed to the double doors.

“Go do what you need to before sundown. We got another hour or so.”

It did end up being Ivy who showed up a few minutes after the sun fully sank away.

She stood perfectly still, hands behind her back, solid.

“How’d it go?” Cherry asked, fully in business.

“Nothing useful. Your tip about the implants was helpful. He confirmed that they were put there by the Institute. Through some basic searching, I was able to find others in most of his joints.”

Cherry nodded and motioned to the couches.

“Please take a seat, Ivy. There’s something else I’d like to talk to you about.”

Ivy stiffened and with mechanical movements, sat as far as possible without picking a space on the floor.

“I got a note from you. Left while we were gone.”

“Yes, Overboss.”

“Do you really want to work for me?” She paused, trailing a finger over the handle of the bat leaning on the other side of her seat. “Or is this a move from Nisha?”

There was a thick silence. And then the stiffness melted.

Ivy pulled her hood away and with a practiced ease, removed her mask.

Thick shoulder-length curls were pinned back with sweat, showing off a face marked by sleeplessness and fading bruises. Gage could make out hints of ink on her neck.

“Nisha can fucking huff my shorts. Fucking tired of her bullshit.”

Cherry’s laugh pierced the air.

“Is that so?”

“Her one rule shit? Dumb as hell. Sat there talking shit about Colter for months but never did anything about it. Only reason she’s in charge is ‘cause the other bosses don’t want to deal with someone like Dixie running the show.”

“And why turn to me?”

“I like those kids of yours. Punklet has a spark in her that could get her into a fuckton of trouble. I started keeping an eye out for her and Bull since they’re so close to the rest of the Disciples.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all. I thought it was a good idea, not letting kids join up. All you get is security risks. You keep those two close. When you leave, you lock them up. Smart.”

Gage noted how Cherry stiffened in her seat, but Ivy lounged across the couch without a care.

“I’m bored with the Disciples. That Connie guy you brought in is the most,” Ivy paused, searching for a thought with her eyes, “enrichment that the gang has gotten in a while. Nisha wants us to hold shit back from you. Like you wouldn’t find out.”

Ivy’s toothy grin highlighted the fact that she was holding herself in check. Nisha couldn’t have found a handle on Ivy if she’d put one there herself.

“I’ll give you everything. Bec and I are trading out who comes in. I’ll tell you what information we actually got. You’ll see that I’m not bullshitting you.”

“Alright. And how would you feel about a side job? One that would require a softer touch?”

Ivy’s eyes lit up.

“Finding shit out is what I do, boss. What do you want?”

Gage watched the boss weigh Ivy’s earnestness with what she needed. Her thumb rubbed over the ring she wore on her right index finger.

“The doctor. I want to know everything about her. Not a hair on her gets touched until I say so.”

“Alright. Anything specific?”

Cherry turned to Gage. He sized up the recruit before nodding.

“She sent us out with a dose of Calmex that could have killed someone. I want to know if it was intentional. Either way, she’s in trouble. But I need to know how much.”

“Oh, I can give you something on that right off the bat.” Ivy sat forward, leaning into the movement. “She hates your guts. Thinks that all your changes to the park is either a trap or too slow.”

Gage frowned.

“How’d you figure that out?” he asked.

“I like to listen. The outfit helps when I need people to be scared around here.” She waved offhandedly at the mask sitting on the couch next to her. “But when I get bored, I go out for a few days. A costume change and some well placed dirt? They let me into the Market as a drifter all the time. Think I’m a regular.”

“You serious?”

“It’s not hard. I’ve been doing it nearly the entire time we’ve been here. Nisha says don’t get caught? I like getting the dirt on everyone else’s fuck-ups. Its why she thinks I’m on her side.”

“And who’s side are you on?” Cherry asked.

“Mine. Anyway, I overheard the doctor talking to one of the other traders - Shelbie, I think. General store. They were talking about your plans to have a park for the traders and travelers to stay in. The doctor started talking shit about how it wouldn’t ever work so long as the raiders were around. She’s pretty vocal about it when she thinks we aren’t looking.”

“If you’re on your own side, why are you telling me all this?”

“Because I know a good gig when I see it. And you’re smart enough to give me one. Nisha won’t use me cause she thinks I’ll turn on her.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Cause she never lets me do anything. And I don’t like that she has to let me do things.”

“What do you think will be different under me?”

“Like I said in my offer. I’ll bring you all the information you want about where things are in the parks. I just want to be able to roam around a little more.”

Ivy looked over Cherry’s unimpressed demeanor and sat up to lean her forearms into her thighs.

“Like this. Right now, Nisha is the one to look out for. Mason thinks you’re the best damn thing to happen around here. Mags and them are happy that there’s at least plans for getting this place to make caps. Nisha? She’s never going to be happy. She’s a timebomb.”

Cherry’s face mirrored the one he’d seen earlier that day. The one that took it personal. The one that he wanted to foster into something more permanent. Not angry or cruel. But not a goddamn ounce of apology to be seen.

Just needing to go to work.

“Alright. I want more details on the doctor. Anything you can get about that Calmex. Gage and I are planning on going into Safari next. I want the traders to start spreading that around.”

“It’ll be harder with me on Connie duty, but I love a good challenge.”

Cherry looked at her Pipboy and scowled.

“Gage, remind me tomorrow to keep Bec here for around the same amount of time. Ivy, you can go. I’ll give you a week considering your extra work.”

Ivy stood, putting her mask back on. With it, the still and silent woman was back. Every bit of her languid posture was eaten the moment her hood was pulled back up.

“Oh, and Ivy?”

“Yes, Overboss.”

“Keep an eye out for anyone who would be a good replacement for our doctor.”

Ivy tilted her head in acknowledgement and was gone.

Gage could play the waiting game - was good at it even.

He could sit there and soak in her glances all through the night. He’d gotten enough from today to take care of himself if he’d wanted. But teasing her was too good of a time.

She hadn’t factored in dinner with the kids, so she was stuck at the table listening to their chatter about blankets and progress. About opening up lessons for basic weaving to speed up the process.

And to her credit, she was an active listener.

Even when he stood from his chair beside her and got to moving her new mattress into her room.

The doe-eyed stare was priceless.

So was the short-circuit when he ran his hand up her thigh under the table.

She had the bright idea to send the mutt down with the kids for the night, saying that the dog needed to get used to being around them if they wanted to go to the Market unchaperoned.

It wasn’t long before the room was empty.

“Nice cover,” Gage laughed.

She looked good in the flush spreading across her face. Gage wondered if she looked good in just that.

“I just-”

Gage grinned, slipping his hand onto the base of her skull.

She had no business getting so immediately comfortable from one touch. Quiet and complacent. At fucking peace in his hand.

But there she was - eyes closed, basking in the feeling of his fingers threading through her hair. Her throat was exposed and bared for the biting.

“You still want me to choke you?”

A single nod and his fist was pulling her face to his. Wide eyes full of longing. Swallowing the saliva that belonged on his tongue.

“I’m gonna want to hear you, darlin’.”

“God, yes.”

Her hands gripped her seat cushion.

“God ain’t involved in what I’m about to do to you. Best keep that word out of your mouth.”

When he bit down on the vein running down her neck, she gave him the sweetest cry he’d heard in ages.

Fucking give me strength to not wet my dick tonight.

Her arms were quick to circle him, and before he knew it, he was carrying her into her room and shoving the door closed with a solid thump of his boot.

Chapter Text

Cherry was fumbling to pull her jeans off even as Porter threw her down onto the mattress. In other circumstances, she would have taken the time to appreciate that he’d made the bed up for her, but she was too distracted by the firm hands pining her wrists to her sides.

“I tell you to take those off?”

“No.”

“Then what do you think you’re doin’?”

“Getting ready for the promise you made,” she said, unable to help the bit of cheek when she knew it would get her that smirk.

“Gotta answer some questions first. Aw, don’t look at me like that. It’s in your best interest.”

Her glare softened under his focus. There was no doubt that he was going to make good on his end if that kiss from earlier of his was anything to go off of.

Or that bite.

Or the squeezing.

“If you want to know my safe word, I use the red light system. Green, good. Yellow, slow. Red, stop.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Not my first ride.”

With a smile she hoped was confident enough, she shifted so that her legs could wrap around his waist. His steady stream of an exhale gave her enough self-assurance that she’d be able to be at least a little bit of a brat right now.

“You want me to be in charge?”

“Yes,” she said, grinding against him just enough to build some pressure.

“Then quit that shit and do as you’re told.”

In a fluid motion, both her wrists were moved to rest above her head and held with one hand while the other hand added pressure to her throat.

This thumb grazed across where his teeth had all but pierced skin.

“Marks. Yes or no?”

“Nowhere visible. Too much hassle.”

He nodded, trailing his hand down to her chest, maintaining a comforting weight to his palm. His eye never left hers.

“Pain tolerance?”

“High, but I’d want physical affection afterwards for anything intense.”

“Noted.”

His hand deftly unbuttoned her jeans and slid the zipper down.

“Vocal or quiet?”

Her brain grew fuzzy as his fingers dipped into the space between cloth and skin, drawing lower and lower before stopping.

“I need an answer, darlin’.”

She’d agree to nearly anything if he kept calling her that.

“I’ve been told I’m loud. And talk in my ear during, I’ll melt.”

His hand moved again, reaching with his middle finger to rub the smallest of circles into her clit.

“Good. I like ‘em loud. All the more fun when they gotta stay quiet for me.”

He ran his finger lower, reaching into her enough to give her something to start whining about. And then his hand pulled away.

Still keeping eye contact, he licked his finger clean, looking for all the world like it was the best thing he’d tasted in his life.

“Your hands stay there until I say so. If you’re good, I might even tie them up for you later.”

When she didn’t answer, he grabbed her by the jaw.

Her stomach did somersaults as Porter tilted her head up, giving him another run at her neck, this time biting down onto her collarbone.

When she started trying to thrust upwards, he pressed her hips down into the mattress with his. When she whimpered, he slipped a finger between her lips.

“You’re gonna stay quiet. Don’t know that no one will come back up, huh?”

Her breath caught as his finger pressed down on her tongue, drifting further down to her throat, almost but not quite giving her a long missed sensation.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “Bet you’d love that to be somethin’ else.”

She nodded, only just managing to keep herself from taking him in to the last knuckle.

“Maybe another time. Right now, I’m gonna learn every button you’ve got.”

He was off her in a flash, tugging his shirt off. And like she’d been told, she stayed in place.

“Good.” He grinned. “I want those pants off. Now.”

Getting rid of the jeans was a relief that she needed as soon as it had been ordered. It overrode the usual need to put discarded clothes into an orderly bin or specific place. She’d spent too long training herself to give herself over to the need for release.

When the pants were gone, she laid back down in the exact position she’d been in.

“Tell me somethin’,” he said, tossing his shirt in the corner along with his boots. “You still wanna be able to walk in the mornin’?”

“Not on your life.”

He grabbed her by her thighs and pulled her to the edge of the bed just as quick as he got to his knees.

“Been wantin’ to do this all goddamn day.”

He ran his tongue up the wet spot of her panties like it was the dessert he’d been hoping for. Cherry’s heart clenched in her chest when his teeth applied just enough pressure on her clit to make her head fall back.

“What’s this now?” he asked, shifting her shirt up enough to reveal the skin underneath. “You all inked up, boss?”

The snark in his voice sent a thrill through her.

“You should see the other side.”

It had been a labor of love, getting that tattoo. A tree trunk made of hatching lines that wrapped around her right set of ribs to stretch branches across her shoulder blades and blossomed into a watercolor explosion. It had been costly, but the pain of it had been exquisite.

“Good to have somethin’ to look forward to.”

With one leg draped over his shoulder and the other held in place with a heavy hand, he shoved her underwear to the side and licked his lips.

He stopped every time that a moan got too loud or she moved to adjust the angle. After trying to get his tongue to dig a little deeper into her, his palm slapped across her inner thigh.

The sting pulled her spine away from the mattress, but made sure to keep her wrists firmly in place.

“Fuck yes, Porter.”

His groan into her let her know that he had enjoyed it just as much as she did. It didn’t take much more to get him to do it again. His hand moved from keeping her leg in place to clawing into her right hip.

A spiral of pressure started building in her core, trying to convince her to thrust and get the mounting release she was craving. Almost as soon as she considered falling into the urge, he pulled his tongue away.

With every whine and frantic thrust in his direction, his smile widened. He wiped at his chin before standing from his kneel.

“Want me to see that other side or not?”

“Please, let me cum.”

His hands shoved her shirt up and took a harsh hold of her ribs.

“Not an answer.”

Tears stung as Cherry gasped out, “Yes. Please.”

"Please what?"

"Watch me."

“Hands and knees.” He let her go and gave her just enough space to navigate. “Now.”

She needed no convincing. Her palms fisted the cotton sheets as her knees dug into the cushion.

There was a pause before the mattress dipped with Porter’s weight just behind her. The texture of his jeans rubbed against the back of her thighs, giving her a sensation to focus on as he fell over her.

“Not even gonna put up a fight?” his voice was a rough whisper in her ear.

She turned her head to face him. And he was so fucking close. The taste of her and his cigarettes intermingled in the air that she breathed in with a groan.

“I will if you want me to.”

He rubbed himself into her, shutting his eyes on an exhale.

“You’d love that wouldn’t you? Should’ve seen your face when you earned that little smack.”

That “little smack” had left a beautiful red mark on her thigh.

She whimpered when his face moved closer. Just enough that she could move up a little and be that much closer to tangling her tongue with his.

“You wanted to touch yourself earlier? Guess what you’re gonna do for me.”

“But-”

He pushed himself off of her, gripping her hips for balance before running his callouses up her back. Her shirt went with them and over her head.

“Damn, darlin’,” a fingernail dragged down her back where the focal point of her tattoo ran down her spine.

The word SURVIVE repeating into the shape of an empty noose hanging from one of the branches of her tree.

A sharp slap against her ass reminded her that she’d been given an order.

She shimmied out of her shirt, letting it fall under her and reached up to slide a finger into her panties and then herself. Her knuckles rubbed against Porter’s crotch which every so often pushed her finger in deeper with a slow thrust.

When she needed another finger, she added it. And then another.

Looking over her shoulder, Porter was hungrily watching her hand move in and out. That familiar pressure built up again, glad for the ability to put on a show.

It must have been on her face because he roughly pulled her wrist to the side and let his fingers replace hers. His breathing grew heavy with hers.

“Wanna be good for me?”

“Yes,” she hissed as his finger hooked into her walls, pressing and thrusting into place.

“I want you to cum for me now.” His hand picked up speed, and Cherry met him with equal fervor. “I want you to get yourself off on me.”

And his motions stopped. The moan turned into a gasp as Cherry kept her pace, then increased, trying to accommodate for what he’d taken away.

“Fuckin’ look at you. So desperate.”

His words sent her into the familiar fuzzy space that she adored and hadn’t been to in so long. She was aware that her voice was getting just on the edge of too loud because Porter threw a hand over her mouth.

With that reckless abandon, she opened her mouth for a finger and was delighted when he obliged. He had to press into her just a little more so that she could keep thrusting and swallow down his finger as far as she could get it.

She was able to draw out a ragged exhale out of Porter as she moaned around one finger and clenched around the others.

“Makin’ it hard not to take you right now,” he managed as she felt the coil tighten just to the point of release.

She popped his finger out of her mouth and panted up at him.

“Want somethin’?”

“Hair.” A ragged pant. “Please.”

His fist was in her waves, pulling. He’d reflexively started pumping his fingers for her again, shortening the time it took for her cum into his hand. She was careful not to scream out, choking it off into a muffled cry of pleasure as he drove her face into the mattress.

He was off of her, and for a moment, she thought that he was going to let her catch her breath. But then his tongue was back at work.

She had to turn her head to the side so she could breathe. Aftershocks of her orgasm ran through her as his tongue brushed against her clit. Her soft gasps were met with his deep moans that she could feel in her bones.

“Yellow,” she managed to get out.

Porter eased on his frenzy before finally drawing his face away.

He breathed heavily, not even bothering to wipe at his face this time. With a firm grip and nails digging into her flesh, he let out a low growl.

“On your fuckin’ back.”

She was quick to oblige, caught up in the stomach flip from his gaze on her. If there was a doubt that he was enjoying himself, the wild eyed mania in his eye was enough to quash it.

He licked at his lips watching her move into place. A blush burned through her when his hands turned soft. Gentle to run across her skin from her neck down, down, down. And then his hands were roughly pulling her soaked through underwear off of her and tossing them into the corner with the rest of the useless clothes.

“Not done with you yet,” he grinned.

Another surge of excitement ran as he moved her legs to wrap around him. He still hadn’t fully stripped and something about it was driving Cherry wild.

He lowered himself over her, careful not to fall completely. His arms caged her into place.

“Told you I’d give you everythin’ you wanted. How’s this?”

His bite into her shoulder sent her head into the mattress and her hips bucking into denim. The edges of her vision blurred as he moved his mouth down to her ribcage, brushing against the skin.

The position had her back arched off the bed because she absolutely refused to have her legs anywhere but twined around him.

“Fu-uck,” Cherry breathed.

Porter’s teeth sank into her again, this time breaking the skin just enough to draw blood. His tongue trailed over the mark, pulling a hiss of pleasure through Cherry’s teeth.

Too slow to be fair, Porter repeated the action on the other side, this time sucking at the skin between laps at the broken flesh. Cherry’s hands moved to his shoulders, fingers aching to draw blood too.

When her nails scraped from his shoulders to his biceps, he sucked in a breath that left her skin aching for more of him.

“Again,” he exhaled, moving back up to her shoulder, this time sucking hard enough that the mark he was surely leaving could have gone to the bone.

Cherry’s nails dragged down his back, digging enough that the smell of copper flared up. With it came a moan so low, she would have thought that Porter had cum on the spot.

He moved to breathe into her ear.

“The second I see that mark fade, I’m draggin’ you in here to do it again. Understand?”

She couldn’t answer, just turned her head for another hungry kiss full of biting teeth and blood and tongues.

Between the stimulation of rubbing against him and his groan against her mouth, Cherry unwound. Her body tightened around him, arms bracing for another pounding throb that pulled away any stray or scattered thought.

But instead, he was pulling her off of him, dropping her legs down to crash against the mattress that had started collecting sweat. His right hand started to undo his belt, but Cherry sat up and wrapped her fingers around his.

“Let me. Please?”

Surprised flashed across his face only long enough for him to nod. Cherry scrambled to the floor, kneeling in the same place he had earlier.

With greedy hands, she worked the belt loose, then Cherry undid the button. Ran her knuckles down the zipper before with a practiced motion, taking the pull-tab between her teeth. She left her fingers resting in his belt loops, waiting for a signal.

Porters thumb rested against her scars, just on the edge of tenderness. Her heart thundered to look at him.

“What’re you waitin’ for, darlin’?”

His thumb traced into her hairline and made her vision flutter with anticipation. But no rough touch came. Instead his index finger wrapped around a tendril of her hair.

“Get to fuckin’ work.”

 She used the belt loops for leverage as she moved the zipper as far down as it would go, then shifted the pants until they were out of her way.

Porter Gage seemed to have voted against underthings that day.

He was girthy, a manageable size even with her being a bit rusty. And the hunger on his face made her eager to please. If that expression or his blown out pupil were any promise, he wouldn’t go down smooth.

She started slow, running her tongue from the bottom of his shaft to the crown. She made sure to keep her eye on him, relishing the divot he made in his bottom lip and the exhale he let out.

When she wrapped her lips around him, his hands rested on either side of her head, gathering her hair in fistfuls. His brow relaxed as she began the process of rolling her tongue in every direction she could. Slowly, she made her way until his cock was seated against the back of her throat.

She held him for a moment, and then she was using the backs of his thighs as a handhold.

It wasn’t long until his hands were moving her head for her, keeping a steady pace. For just a moment, she blessedly forgot to breathe.

But it wasn’t punishing enough. He was holding back. Allowing her to gag and get air and everything she didn’t want right now. She needed more of him. She hadn’t taken every bit of his cock yet. Just enough to fill her mouth, but her throat was unbearably empty.

She pressed him further in, getting those last couple inches. Over and over, she moved so her lips pressed against the base of him, relishing in the look he gave her. She was working them both into a frenzy, and he was finally moving her how he wanted. How she needed.

She moaned around him and watched his head tilt back before snapping back down to her. His hands had taken to a punishing rhythm that had tears trailing down to catch on the corners of her mouth. Her jaw was aching. Everything about it was exactly what she’d hoped for.

And Porter wasn’t letting himself look away from her.

His breathing was getting more ragged, more hitched.

He was close.

But, it wasn’t enough for him to finish in her.

When heat spread through her throat, she forced her head still against his skin, loving the feeling of him pressing flush against her face - of the twitching of his cock adding a rhythm to her increased heart rate. When he tried pulling her away, she fought to keep firmly rooted to the spot.

The fuzz came back. Familiar and beautiful. Spots came to her vision as she looked up at him, knowing she looked as relieved as she felt.

Her brow was relaxed. Eyes fluttering in ecstasy. Fire pooling in her belly and lungs and throat, she kept her eyes on his. Hazel redefined the world. Hot flesh against flesh. Cool air on damp skin. Knees and shins digging into tile.

Porter’s hands stayed in her hair, but he stopped trying to move her from where she needed to be. Didn’t hold her there, but didn’t stop her.

Scars and falling and cushion. Fingers clinging desperately to thighs. Fingers carding through her hair. Thumb brushing over her eye into her hairline down to her cheek. Up in down up in down.

Slowly - so slowly - whatever her lungs were working off of burned out. The world darkened at the edges, until the only thing she could see was Porter’s eye burning into her in awe.

It wasn’t much longer until sweet release followed.

Chapter Text

“We gonna have to talk about that?”

“Not if you don’t want to.”

He was still there when she woke up. He’d pulled his pants back up and was sitting on the edge of the bed. His hands turned his eyepatch over and over.

“Yeah, well…”

She wasn’t tucked in so much as had been laid out and had the blanket tossed over her. When she rolled over, she was surprised to see that he’d dressed her enough that if someone opened the door, it was an innocuous enough scene.

Like he’d come in because she’d had a bad dream.

“Got a little gentle there at the end,” she said, hoping that the joking tone helped defuse the awkward air around them.

“General rule: be nice to the person who’s got their teeth near your dick.”

She laughed, but the sound hurt coming up.

“Need some water?”

She nodded.

Porter left the bedroom door open, so Cherry was able to see that he was rigid in his movements. When he got back and passed her the water bottle, he sat back in the same spot near the foot of the bed.

“It’ll help.”

“I… thanks,” she managed before sipping at the water.

The quiet stretched for a beat too long.

“Did you at least have fun?”

“I-” Porter started. His voice was the softest she’d ever heard it. “The thing with Kellogg… It really fucked you up, huh?”

Cherry winced.

“We don’t have to do this.”

He finally looked at her.

“We do, actually.” His sigh wasn’t disapproving like she was used to. It wasn’t even upset. “You gonna do that every time somethin’ big happens?”

“Just when I need it,” she murmured.

“You only gonna want to do this when you need it?”

“No!” She sat up straighter. “I told you, you can ask for it too. I mean, sex is supposed to be a fun way to blow off steam and all, but it’s not just for me.”

“I don’t mean-” he huffed and stood. For a second, Cherry thought he was going to leave entirely, but he was closing the door again.

The defenses rose up around her and immediately crashed back to the ground. He was worried. Her big, tough right hand - her friend - was worried. Because of her.

“I mean, I thoroughly enjoyed myself,” she said, trying for a flippant wave of her hand. “I don’t remember the last time I was able to get manhandled without an audience. And you sounded like you were having a good time.”

Her smile died under Porter’s blank stare.

“I… I know it doesn’t make a lot of sense to most people. But giving everything up like that, putting everything in someone else’s hands…” Cherry sighed. “It’s its own form of control over my life. It’s comforting.”

“I get that. Not knockin’ you for it. Just gotta tell me that’s what you want before we get started. Hell, that was the first time we… I…” As his voice fumbled, Cherry could almost make out a creeping red going up his neck.

“Do you… not like talking about sex?”

“Nah, that… that ain’t it.” He took in a deep breath and sighed. “If we keep fuckin’ around, I’m gonna need you to be more clear about what you want me to do. At least when we start. Cause that wasn’t givin’ up control. That was… somethin’ else.”

Cherry opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her jaw worked until finally, she felt a lump in her throat.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“No it’s not. It was selfish.”

“Don’t mind you bein’ selfish. Just mind that you went whole hog in the first round.”

There was a pregnant pause before Cherry finally managed to shift over in the bed.

“Will you stay with me?”

“Ain’t left yet.”

Cherry held a hand out to him, inviting him closer. He didn’t take it but did move to sink into the mattress next to her, leaving a few inches between their shoulders.

Her hand fell.

“I’m sorry I worried you. You’re right. I should have-”

“There’s no should’ve. Ain’t space for it. All you got is what is.”

Cherry sighed, leaning her head against the wall to her back.

“Have you ever tried to kill yourself?” Her voice was hollow, even to herself.

“Nah. Thought I’d be better off dead a couple times, though.”

Cherry nodded.

“I was always so scared to go through with it. But there was this one exhibition I went to. More of the hardcore stuff than my normal.”

“You mentioned that. ‘Exhibition.’ Like what? A show?”

“Kinda. I like… being watched. But only in really specific circumstances. They had all kinds of different themes. I would volunteer for nearly every one of them that I could. They were different from sex parties. These were more organized and um…”

Cherry licked her lips, risking a glance at Porter. He was watching her out of the corner of his eye, but there wasn’t judgement to it. It was closer to curiosity.

“They were more focused on an idea. Like an art show, but with sex or more kinky performances.”

“And you just what, showed up, got fucked, and left?”

“Most of the time, yeah. But the one I was talking about… it was a lot more intense. I had never really been through anything hard before that. Degrading, sure. Rough in some ways. A few smacks on the ass, some bruises. Hell, even a couple of times where I had to call out the next day because I couldn't move. But this one was… it was the kind of thing that shouldn’t be your first step into the scene.”

Porter didn’t respond, just kept watching her.

“I connected with someone there. He had tied me up and had a noose around my neck the entire time. I had consented to all of it. I was willing to try, and there were medics on standby in case things got out of hand. Nearly my entire time there that night, he had me checked out.”

Cherry started when Porter grabbed her hand, pulling it away from her wrist. She hadn’t realized she was scratching into it. Almost as quickly as he’d done it, he let go.

“It was the first time I had gotten off on just being in pain. No penetration or anything for the first bit. I felt real. I went back to him on and off. Usually when things at work were more heavy.”

Her face softened, remembering not just the harshness of his hand, but the aftercare that had come with those sessions. Always wrapped up in fleece and cushions. Cool water. Held until the tears finally stopped.

“After the exhibition, he was pissed. I was honest and told him I’d never actually done that before. But I didn’t want that to be the last time. I don’t really believe in a lot - spiritually I mean. Human determination and grit, sure. But no god ever got me anywhere. And that hour and a half had been nothing short of divine to me.”

A dry laugh slipped from Porter, but nothing on his expression betrayed his thoughts.

“It was a kind of catharsis. I couldn’t go and kill myself, but I could get broken down. I could get close enough.”

“So that’s what you meant.”

She nodded.

“It’s funny,” she sniffed through a bitter little laugh. “I wonder if I would have been able to go through half of the pain I’ve felt since I got here if it wasn’t for that.”

The quiet between them only lasted a second before Porter sighed.

“I closed the door so you can let it out. Told you. No one else gets to see you in here.”

Her head was buried in his chest near immediately. His body was tense under her weight, but it didn’t matter at that moment. Because all she could think of was his hand running through her hair as she’d passed out.

“I’ll find you some rope if that’s what you’re wantin’. I’ll whip you down if that’s what you’re lookin’ for. I don’t give a shit about that.”

A tentative hand pressed into her back.

“But you gotta actually tell me what you want. I can figure shit out a lot faster. I’m not good with…” She felt his spare hand flounder beside her. “Feelin’s. I guess. Don’t want to talk about them if I can help it. But if you gotta, I’ll listen.”

“They’re just… a lot.”

“Yeah. It’s why I shot mine out back.”

Cherry laughed into his chest, soft and wet with tears.

“Did you at least give them a burial?”

“Fuck no!”

“What’s that like? Really?”

He sighed. His hand on her back started mechanically rubbing small circles into her spine.

“Dunno. I don’t really think about it. Hadn’t come up until you got here. Askin’ about things that don’t matter in the long run.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Ain’t worth it.”

“It is.”

After another stretch of quiet, Cherry lifted her head.

“Can I do something? It’s going to feel a little silly to you, probably. But its something I like doing… after. It makes me feel better.”

Porter pursed his lips.

“Gonna go get your clown makeup?”

She snorted and was surprised to see a smile briefly pull at his lips, even as she lightly smacked his side.

“Alright, alright. What’d you want me to do?”

“Take off your pants and get on your stomach.”

“Already? Ain’t even bought me dinner.”

His smirk burned a warmth into her all the way down her legs. With a roll of her eyes, she adjusted to give him space to fully lay down.

“Just do it, please?”

His palm pressed into her jaw, fingers almost digging into the base of her skull. Not hard, but close to that lovely feeling of a dominant hand.

“Well, who am I to deny you when you ask so nice?”

The bastard’s eye danced taking in her hot face.

“I’m going to gut you in your sleep,” she muttered.

His impish grin had her heart dangerously thrumming in place.

But he stood up, dropped his pants to the floor, and got back in the bed. Stretched out as he was, she could make out every scratch she’d left him. Places that would scab over or just fade away. Bruises where fingertips had pressed into him with fervor.

His thighs and shoulders were the worst. Gouges of skin were ripped and would surely sting later. As gently as she could, she ran her lips over the marks, pressing them into where blood had dried.

Almost immediately, goosebumps broke out across his legs and sides.

“The hell?”

“I told you it would feel silly,” she said, looking up to his face turned over his shoulder. “But it’s important to me. I don’t like that I hurt you.”

“You consider that I did?”

She moved to the other thigh, returning her eyes to each scratch.

“I know you did. But just because it felt good doesn’t mean that there isn’t a reward after.”

It was the same thing that she’d been told time and time again. When she’d been left a ragged, heaving mess. When she’d been asked to take a turn to dole out the damage and her heart constricted over the lacerations across a partner’s back, even if it had been part of the scene.

She could feel Porter’s pulse hammering under her lips and fingertips. She moved to his back, straddling him so she could appraise the damage.

“Do you want me to stop?” She asked, hesitant. “I will.”

He buried his face in the cushion under his head, but Cherry could see the red burning behind his ears.

So fucking noted.

“Just get it over with,” was his muffled reply.

There were old scars littered across him too. Faint and harsh alike. Ones that had been stitched and others that had clearly just been patched over and then stimpaked away. Burns and bullet holes and knots of flesh healed but not gone.

She dragged her lips across each scratch and bruise. Kissed the spots that looked like longer lasting damage. Her throat hitched when she got to his shoulders and his breathing was shallow under her.

“Almost done,” she whispered.

She was almost sure that she’d heard a soft inhale of caught breath. For a moment, the exhale sounded like the tail end of her name, and it struck her that in the entire time she’d been here, she couldn’t remember him even once using it.

Her hands roved, searching out anything she missed. Marks from teeth biting into his shoulder - marks that she didn’t remember giving at all. Bruises under her fingertips, some clearly from their fun and others much yellowed from their time out and about.

Bruises that he’d gotten because of and for her.

She brushed her lips against those too.

The last kiss was against the rushing pulse in his neck, soft and feather light.

“Done.”

She rolled off of him and had to keep the delight in his reaction to herself. He didn’t move, didn’t cover himself up from the cold. Barely looked like he was breathing.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Hell. On. Earth,” he muttered, face still in the pillow.

Cherry’s giggle bubbled up, and Porter’s face snapped to her. His scowl was hanging on by a thread, hastily put on over a wild eyed wonder that had only just flashed by.

“What?” she laughed.

“Gonna gut you in your sleep.”

He pounced on her, and Cherry’s squeal was cut off by the air leaving her when he pinned her into the bed. Her peals of laughter kept coming because he’d tried to deepen the scowl.

“Your turn, then?”

“My turn what?”

“That the kind of thing you need to do after getting’ hurt? That’s what you’ll get.”

Cherry sobered.

“You really don’t have to. I mean…” she tried to gesture to her shirt that he’d buttoned onto her in her blackout. “This is more than a lot of people would do after a session like that.”

“Yeah, we’ll if you’re gonna do whatever the hell that was, you’re gonna have to deal with it too.”

“It’s called aftercare, Porter,” she tried to deadpan, but another laugh sputtered out of her on his name. “You look like someone made you eat a lemon!”

“Just… Stay fuckin’ still. Ass.”

His stubble brushed across her wrist where she’d been scratching earlier. Trailed up her arm. Breath ghosting over her so light that she could imagine it being cigarette smoke breaking against her skin.

His movements were stilted, but he kept his eye on her. He didn’t kiss the marks and scratches so much as he brushed across them with a touch softer than she could have ever imagined from him.

Cherry sank into Porter’s gaze before it moved to the buttons of her night shirt. His fingers followed, slowly undoing each one. The only noise was the shifting of fabric against skin. He didn’t take it off of her, but left her chest open to the air and his eye taking in every injury and mark.

He ran his hands across the bites on her ribs, pressing softly into the spaces between the bones.

He sat up, and Cherry’s heart went still. This had been a bad idea. She could see it in him - the way his eye appraised her. Slow and methodical. He could deny it to the next end of the world, but there was a care in him as he frowned at the broken skin.

Maybe she’d misjudged the situation. Maybe this wasn’t him caring about her, but something worse. Something that could tear the years and years of carefully built walls down with a single burst of wind.

The twinge of guilt disappeared when he pressed a palm into the hickey he’d left on her shoulder.

“That stays until I say otherwise,” he said. “You better tell me if it fades. Otherwise, I’m gonna run you well past ragged.”

“That a promise?”

“Nah. A threat.”

She was going to drown in him, because what had replaced the guilt was something so much worse.

“Now, I think there’s only one place I missed.”

He moved off of her, down to between her legs.

And he stayed there for another half hour.

If his earlier heat was a wildfire, this was a fireplace. Every lap of the tongue was controlled, each nip and press of his mouth against her was passionate but never enough to undo her. His fingers moved into her with languid strokes, occasionally taking over when Porter’s jaw needed a break.

Their sighs and groans of pleasure were low enough to be almost less than sound. He brought her to the edge no less than five times, and every time it was accompanied with a murmured order against her inner thigh.

“Breathe.”

It was almost too much. When she finally came it was on a whimper and soft gasp for air.

“Don’t gotta be rough with you to make my point,” he said, low. He moved back over her, loosely caging the space around her. “You’ve lost your cocksuckin’ privileges for the foreseeable future. Got it?”

Cherry chuckled through a breath slowly leveling out.

“Sure I can’t get those back?”

And his smug grin was fucking divine.