Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A broken scream tore from Nora’s throat when the barrel of the flamer pressed against her side. Had it been on purpose, an attempt at torture, she could have dealt with the pain better. Her own contrary nature would have endured it. Instead, the men who had her pinned just didn’t care.

“So, you think you can just steal shit from us?”  A knee pressed into her arm, a face just above hers, breath heavy with chems.

“I didn’t steal from you.” Nora twisted, but nothing could move the heavy bodies pinning her.

“Yeah, you did. This farm? It’s ours, and you’re fucking with it. Don’t think we didn’t see you giving ‘em guns and shit. You think a few guns would work against us?”

Nora shifted to the left, making the hot barrel of the flamer press harder against her side, but it would be worth it if she could break their hold. “I don’t even know who you are.”

Everything hurt. She’d shown up to check on the small homestead near the northern edge of their territory after giving them a few modified rifles when they’d complained about raider attacks. The place was too small to set up as a real settlement, and she’d have preferred they just move to a properly secured area, but the father had refused.

At first, Nora had scoffed at his stubbornness. She’d lost a child before, she knew what it did to a person. Then the man had broken down and explained his wife had died two years prior, that he couldn’t imagine leaving the home they’d shared, the one they’d had their children in.

Being a soft touch, as MacCready would often sneer, Nora had given in. She’d done the same, hadn’t she? Building up Sanctuary and resuming her place in the home she’d shared with Nate?

So she’d given him weapons, set up a few turrets, and helped install a safe room in a cave for the kids in case the worst happened.

Judging by the home in flames, the worst had happened. The burnt body of the father smoldered, but she saw nothing else. Had the kids hidden like she’d taught them? Were they waiting in that cave for a father who’d never come back?

The oldest was twelve, a girl who mothered the other two, and a set of eight-year-old twin boys. She’d given the girl a map, set the cave with stimpacks, a gun, caps. If anything happened, they were to go to The Slog. A long trip, but she’d trust Wiseman with the kids, with getting them to where they needed to go. There weren’t many she’d trust with kids, not anymore, but Wiseman would take care of them.

“You don’t know who we are? Come on girl, you ain’t that stupid. You just stumble onto one of our hunting grounds and don’t know? Yeah, we might be a little more south than usual, but that doesn’t mean shit.” He laughed as his fingers found a burn that had singed the front of her shirt, near the shoulder. He pressed against the skin, drawing another scream from Nora. “But that doesn’t fucking matter. When we’re done with you, you’ll remember us really fucking well, and you can head out and make sure you tell everyone to stay the fuck outta our territory.” He leaned in and dragged his tongue up the side of her cheek, over another burn, before whispering to her. “You’ll regret ever fucking with The Forged.”

#

The screaming of a woman was a sound Rampart could never ignore. Something in the tenor of it, in the guttural sound, the way it barrelled through the barren lands always shook him. He could ignore a lot of things, did ignore a lot of things.

Getting involved wasn’t fucking worth it. Never mattered anyway, so he let shit work itself out. It always did, in the end.

The scream of a woman though, that did him in every fucking time, and he always paid the price for it. Didn’t matter though, that shit was hard-wired into him.

He picked up his sniper rifle and hauled himself off the rocks by the lake he’d been resting at.

A rest, that’s all he’d wanted. A nice break beside the water before gearing up for another trip to Goodneighbor to sell shit.

Instead, he was hauling his ass up the rocky terrain, sharp bits biting into his hands, all to save some stupid woman who would probably just get herself killed a few days later.

At the top of the small hill, Rampart crouched in bushes. The sight stopped him cold.

It wasn’t random raiders, not the shit he dealt with day in and day out.

When the fuck had The Forged moved this far from the factory? They never went far from their base, and this was a long fucking way from there. He worked at avoiding anything within about ten miles of their territory, but fuck if that seemed to work now.

Flames engulfed a house behind them, the things his nightmares were made of. Not even the fire, but the maniacal laughing from the assholes that blended with the pops of the flames. The scent of burning flesh filled the clearing and had him dry heaving.

Fuck this. Anything else, but not The Forged. He’d barely survived them the first time and if they caught sight of him?

Nope.

He took a step backward until another scream stopped him.

He pulled his rifle and used the scope to survey. Four men and a woman on the ground between them. It didn’t take a genius to figure out their plan, not with how one perched above her, hands fumbling with her pants.

Heroism had gotten him exactly nowhere in his life, but he couldn’t just turn around.

The woman lifted her head, nailing the man on top of her in the nose. So, she had some bite?

The man ignored her pants in favor of tangling his hand in her hair, lifting her head and slamming it against the ground.

Rampart couldn’t let it go on anymore.

He took aim, letting the tension drain from his shoulders, his back. The woman stopped moving. Unconscious? At least stunned. It meant the men slowed, went still.

Easy shots.

He dropped the first two before any could react. The one on top of the woman rolled off, hands going for his pistol. The other still alive dove for cover, but another shot from Rampart had him down, too.

Too easy. Distance was something Rampart had learned well, something he prided himself on. No reason to get in close if you didn’t need to. Getting in close got you killed and gave them too much power.

The last man, the one who’d been on top of the woman, took cover behind a rusted car frame.

“You got any idea the hell you’re pulling down on yourself?” The man’s voice carried over the snap of the fire. All that fucking arrogance didn’t hide the quiver.

“You’re a little far south. You lost, asshole?” Rampart replaced his sniper rifle, exchanging it for something easier to handle as he rushed forward, along the line of trees, until he could get cover behind a boulder beside the woman.

She moved, but not fast. Girl had taken a hell of a hit to the head. Blood matted her hair and some soaked into the dirt beneath her as she shifted on the ground but didn’t move to rise.

“Walk away, and you’ll live,” the man bargained.

A bargain meant he knew exactly how deep into shit he was. Perfect.

Not that Rampart would let that happen. He’d learned his lesson well. Don’t let people escape, not when they could hurt you. He inched to the side of the boulder until he could spot the man behind the car. An easy flank, and The Forged took enough chems to dull the pain of the burns they always had that they rarely had their wits about them. It was one of their biggest failings and advantages. Fuckers were crazy, willing to run in and raze anything, but they were also stupid.

Rampart didn’t try for some quip, for something witty. He raised his pistol and unloaded shot after shot into the Forged raider until he was damned sure the asshole wasn’t getting up again.

Then, because it was the first Forged he’d seen in five years, he drew his leg back and kicked the body once more.

Movement to the side caught his attention. A flash of darkness against the far treeline. Another raider? Rampart pulled his rifle to his shoulder, but they disappeared around the bend in the road.

He should follow them. The last thing he needed was The Forged to know he was there, to send more assholes after him. His face was the sort that a simple description would be enough to identify him.

A whimper from the woman had him stilling, had him unwilling to abandon her there. He cursed at himself, holstered his pistol, and moved over her.

Burns covered her, none too severe, nothing that’d kill her. A stimpack to deal with the head injury, to speed up the healing of the burns, and she’d be fine in a few days.

Course, that meant he couldn’t just leave her there. Where the fuck were her people? Only idiots traveled alone.

Well, idiots and him.

Then again, he had just faced off against four fucking Forged to save some girl he didn’t even know, so maybe he was an idiot.

He could leave her. . .

Maybe her people would show, maybe they wouldn’t. She had muscle on her, enough fat to show she ate, clean enough to say she took care of herself. The weapons to the side of her that weren’t Forged said she’d been armed. She’d be fine.

He took a step backward, but another whine from her had his fists drawn tight.

Fuck it.

Rampart gathered her armor, her weapons, her pack, then lifted her over his shoulder. Thankfully, she didn’t wake because he’d bet he was pissing off every one of her burns.

He’d made dumb mistakes before, but this one? This one might just get him killed.

Chapter Text

Nora woke with a gasp, stumbling to her feet before her eyes even opened. Her skin ached, burned, and worsened with movement.

The Forged. The man on top of her, his fingers on the button to her pants, his blood leaking down from his nose and pouring over her face, it all came back to her.

Bright light flooded her eyes when she managed to force them open, but when they adjusted, she wasn’t sure she was better off.

A small shack. How had she gotten there? She remembered the raider slamming her head into the ground, then nothing.

Her arm ached, a different one than the others, one she knew. The subtle bruising ache of a stimpack.

Had the raiders not finished with her yet? Had they decided death was too easy? Patched her up for another go?

Nora’s eyes started to adjust as she patted down her body for damage. Each burn she found had her hissing in a breath, but worse? She wasn’t wearing her clothing. A pair of underwear and a bra were all she had on, and while she was fairly sure they were the ones she’d been wearing, the fact someone had stripped her down had her anxiety rising.

The groaning of unoiled hinges and old wood had her twisting toward the sound. In the doorway stood a man, the light behind him making it so she couldn’t see details.

She didn’t need details, though. She was naked, he was roughly the size of her first apartment, and she had no idea where she was.

“Oh, you’re awa-”

Nora didn’t wait for whatever else he had to say. She hadn’t survived all she had by being stupid and waiting for attacks.

She darted forward across the small strip of space between her and the door, leaning low and hoping to barrel between his body and the doorway. If she surprised him enough, she might make it.

As soon as she was outside, she could get her bearings. She’d traveled enough to know nearly every inch of the Commonwealth. She had outposts, settlements, and patrol routes enough that within two hours she could be somewhere safe. She let her mind lock onto the plan, onto what she needed to do instead of on the huge man she was trying to outmaneuver.

She ducked below his arm, his hand grasping for her but with only skin to grab onto, he missed. Her burns screamed at her, but she pushed herself harder. Sharp pieces of gravel, sticks, and things she didn’t want to think about poked into her bare feet. No doubt there’d be blood when she stopped.

She made it out of the shack and perhaps twenty feet when an arm wrapped around her waist. A grunt was her reward when she drove an elbow backward into whoever had grabbed her.

A deep voice growled into her ear. “Settle down, girl. I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“Let me go.” Nora struggled against the hold but between her injuries and the sluggishness that told her she wasn’t running at one hundred percent, her ability to fight drained.

The man dragged her back, though not as rough as she’d expected. Once she stopped fighting, he slid an arm beneath her legs and lifted her against his chest. The warmth of his arms aggravated the slight burns on her back.

He seemed to notice and adjusted his grip to avoid them, then kicked the door shut behind him once back inside the shack. “Let’s try this again,” he muttered below his breath as he set her down on the bed.

Nora scooted backward on the bed and pulled her knees to her chest. Red streaks from where her feet had dragged across the blanket stood out.

He sighed, then turned for a first aid kit. “What’s your name?”

Nora didn’t answer, just tried to look smaller.

“Okay, fine. My name is Rampart, and I’m not trying anything here.”

“So why did you drag me back in here?”

He sat on the edge of the bed and opened the first aid kit. “You’re in underwear and running out there unarmed and injured. I saved your ass once; it’d be a waste of my time if you got yourself killed the next day. Now, unless you want an infection, how about we clean your feet?”

Nora frowned, her gaze down on his hands. She hadn’t actually looked at him, yet. She didn’t want to. If he was lying, seeing his face would prove the nail in her coffin.

Still, she didn’t see a lot of other options, so slid a foot out toward him.

He grasped her ankle in a firm grip before taking a rag and cleaning the wounds. “You fresh from a vault or some shit? Should know better than to go running around without shoes. Tetanus’ll fuck you up fast out here, Pixie.”

“Pixie?”

He shrugged and applied ointment to her foot before wrapping it. “Won’t give me your name, so I figured I’d pick something.”

“And why Pixie?”

“You never look in a mirror? You’re all of five foot nothing. Could go with squirt, or pipsqueak, or-”

“Pixie’s fine,” Nora snapped. Sure, she knew she wasn’t the most imposing person. She’d gotten by on her brains and her ability to think about the big picture, not by her size. Still, it always rankled to have people point it out to her.

She still remembered when the accords happened, when she’d brokered the peace between the Minutemen, the Brotherhood, and the Railroad. She’d never met Maxson, never met most of the Brotherhood or the Railroad. They’d all ignored her and spoken to Preston because who would have ever figured little Nora Jacobs was the General who planned to take out the Institute?

Still, she kept that to herself. This man claimed to help her, but the last thing she needed was for him to realize exactly who she was.

Better he think her some helpless Pixie.

Nora lifted her gaze, finally ready to look him in the face, to try and decide who he was and where she was, but only gasped at what she saw.

#

Rampart knew damned well when she got a good look at him. Her gasp ricocheted off the walls of his place, and she yanked her foot back.

He tilted his head down and grabbed the other foot, ignoring her reaction.

Fuck her.

He didn’t care. Didn’t care he wasn’t the pretty boy she’d been hoping for. Didn’t give a shit that she saw a monster.

Nope, not one bit. Maybe if he repeated that shit to himself, he’d believe it.

He shook his head so his hair fell forward, hiding more of the damage to the left side of his face. “The fuck were you doing out here anyway?”

She took a breath, but her muscles didn’t relax. After a long pause, she spoke, voice unsteady. “I’m a trader. I’d given some guns to the people there, and I guess those raiders weren’t too happy about it.”

Rampart huffed. See? Doing shit for people never went well. Never ended up worth it. She’d gotten herself hurt, almost raped and killed, and the damned people were slaughtered anyway.

Didn’t shock him, though. Girl seemed like a goody-two-shoes. Fuck, in his old days she’d been the perfect kind of mark. Wouldn’t have roughed her up, but a hard stare or two, a well-placed threat, and she’d have folded like a fucking pre-war lawn chair.

Instead, here he was trying to keep her alive, which would mean getting her ass back to wherever it was she belonged just as soon as possible.

“Why aren’t I wearing clothes?” The words came out quiet. Shy?

“The Forged use flamers most of the time. Burns are the name of the game with them. Needed to treat the burns you had and I couldn’t exactly see ‘em with what was left of those rags in the way. Figured you’d rather be alive even if your modesty took a hit.”

She twisted, uncurling herself from the ball as he worked on her other foot. Her fingers walked across her side where the worst of the burns were, which he’d applied ointment and covered. “Why haven’t I healed more? I know you gave me a stimpack.”

“Burns don’t respond so well to stimpacks. A cut has a pretty small surface area to fix, but burns? They really fuck up the skin, and it still takes days to heal ‘em.”

Her gaze went to the side of his face again. A glare from him had her dropping her gaze and flinching.

Good.

“The fuck have you been that you don’t know not to run around without shoes, and you don’t know how burns heal? You been hiding under a rock? Or are you one of those Diamond City princesses?” He’d believe that. The more of her he got a look at, the surer he was that she hadn’t lived a hard life. Not enough scars.

“Believe it or not, most of the Commonwealth doesn’t have raiders with flamers running around high off their asses on psycho. That’s a this area specific problem. And the shoes? Wake up naked in a strangers house and see if you care about risking some tetanus to escape.”

The spark of anger had him grinning as he finished wrapping her other foot. “Maybe Pixie is too sweet for you, huh? Maybe I oughta call you Imp.” He grabbed a pair of clean socks from his dresser, long knitted ones he’d bought off Daisy the last time he’d been in Goodneighbor, and slid them onto her feet to keep the wrap in place. “Besides, those assholes are out of their normal track. Their place is further north and a bit east. They don’t normally come this far, which tells me they’re running short of men or gear. Either way, it ain’t a good thing.”

She pulled her foot away from him when he finished with the socks, a gentle tug that implied she was being cautious. “You picked up my gear, right?”

He hiked a thumb toward her pack beside the door. “Got what I could. Some of it seems like it got too close to the fire. You got a rifle, a pistol, the armor they yanked off you, some caps, and whatever was in the backpack. Well, I took the caps off their bodies, but I figured they’re probably yours. If they ain’t, you earned ‘em still.”

“Any signal grenades?”

“Like, to call in vertibirds? Nah, nothing like that. Heard some weird shit in the fire, they must have tossed ‘em in there. What the fuck did you have those for?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. Just worth a pretty penny.”

Only people to use signal grenades he’d seen were Minutemen and Brotherhood. Brotherhood used ‘em to call in Vertibirds, and Minutemen for artillery strikes. Still, those were for some high up assholes in both groups, and she didn’t strike him as that. Maybe she’d found ‘em? Made some and sold them?

He could see her as a scientist, as someone who made shit to sell to the highest bidder.

“Well, sorry. No luck.” He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the guilt of what he was about to say. “Look, I’m heading out when the sun goes down. I can drop a message if you got friends who are looking for you.”

“Where are you going?”

“Goodneighbor. Got some trading to do.”  

“I’m not ready to make that trip on my own. Take me with you, and I’ll pay you.”

He wanted to say yes. Not for some worthless caps, but because he wanted that extra time. He wanted to make sure she got there safe, that she wouldn’t fall into the hands of anyone else like The Forged.

But he’d done too much already. How many times had he sworn off helping people? He’d learned his lesson, for fucking sake. His face was a reminder of his lesson, and he didn’t really want to have to learn it a second time.

“Nah. I’ll- I’ll leave a note with someone there if you want but that’s the best I can do.” He tossed her a shirt, one of his that would reach her mid-thigh.

She pulled it on. “How much do you want? Because whatever it is, I’m good for it. I can’t just wait here.”

“Look, Imp, I’ve already risked too much helping you. I’m on the mind of people I don’t want noticing me, and instead of chasing ‘em down to finish ‘em off, I saved you. I ain’t about to do something that stupid a second time.”

Her back straightened at his harsh tone, and fuck, he wanted to take it back. He couldn’t, though.

“So you’ll just run away? Just looking out for yourself. huh?”

“That’s all any of us can do. Trust me, be around as long as I have, seen what I’ve seen, you realize putting yourself out there doesn’t mean shit. Nah, I ain’t putting my neck out anymore for you. You’ve got weapons, there’s food, bar the door. I’ll drop a note in Goodneighbor for your friends. Consider yourself lucky I’m as nice as I am.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “You coward. Fine, go. I’ve crawled my way out of worse than this all on my own.”

The insult landed, but he pulled in his desire to snap back. Fuck her. Some spoiled bitch didn’t know anything about loss, about the real world.

“Right. Well, Imp, you want to give me that name so I can drop it for you?”

“Yeah, tell-”

The window shattered, and a familiar sound filled the room. A molotov cocktail, complete with familiar label.

The Forged had found him.

Chapter Text

Nora gasped when Rampart’s body slammed against her, knocking both her and the bed over. “What the hell?”

He covered her body with his, aggravating her wounds. “Would you stop fighting me for one fucking second?”

Before she could answer with something rude, an explosion and blast of heat told Nora exactly what he was doing.

Rampart shoved the bed out of the way and hefted himself off her. It let Nora pull in a full breath as she rolled to her feet, the heat in the shack stifling as the flames spread.

Rampart shoved open a chest, flames licking at his arms, but he didn’t notice them. He pulled out weapon after weapon, strapping them on as if the fire meant nothing. She supposed that told her how comfortable he was with combat. He didn’t appear shaken at all, like falling into a familiar routine.

Never one to shy away from conflict, Nora went for her own rifle, leaning against the wall where he’d pointed it out.

“Armor first, Imp.”

Nora wanted to snap back, but he was right. She snatched the chest armor, lifting it over her head as the crackle of a flamer went off outside. That sound would haunt her dreams.

“Come on out,” shouted a voice from outside.

“I help you and look what it gets me? This, this right here? This shit is why I don’t help people!”

“Oh, just keep complaining,” Nora snapped as she tightened the armor. The leg and arm pieces were already toast, the straps smoldering. Plus, without any pants, she’d have to strap them directly to her skin, and they’d slow her down so much, she’d rather forgo them. A pair of shoes would have been useful, but she could only do what she could do. She reached for the weapon but yanked backward when the flames got to close.

Rampart pushed past her and reached into the fire. He lifted the rifle and tossed it to her, and despite the tendrils of heat that danced over his skin, he didn’t flinch. “Alright. They’re out there.” He pointed toward the window. “But we’re going to head out the back way.”

“They aren’t smart enough to surround the building? I mean, it’s not that big.”

“Nah, The Forged ain’t know for their brains. Besides, we ain’t just going out the back.” He grabbed the chest and hauled it to the side, revealing a door in the ground. One good pull and it opened, showing a ladder. “Let’s go, unless you want to go make friends with ‘em a second time.”

Nora hated small, dark places. They reminded her of the cryotube, of being trapped, of being helpless. She looked back toward the window.

How many could be out there? Not that many.

She’d gotten bested the last time because she’d given them a chance like she always did. She’d tried to save them, give them an out. She hadn’t expected the fire, the weapons, the savagery. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

A few good shots, a blaze of glory, she could take them down.

“Seriously? Look, they’re set up out there. It’s down the hole, or it’s die. That’s it.”

Nora took another deep breath, fingers tightening on her rifle. She’d taken out more than that in the Institute, hadn’t she? There were endless waves of synths then, same as in Fort Hagen.

There couldn’t be more people out that door.

Anything to not go down in the dark again, to not be trapped again. If she had to die somewhere than it seemed like a better place to do it out in the sun.

Right?

“Oh for fuck sake.”

Her rifle was torn from her grip and tossed down the hole. Before she could argue, Rampart had shoved her over, grasped her hand, and pushed her into the hole.

Instead of using the ladder, he lowered her by the grip on her arm, then dropped her. She fell the last bit, not more than three or four feet, collapsing onto dusty ground.

Her panic slipped when Rampart slid down the ladder and closed the door above them. The latch locked, leaving them in darkness.

#

Rampart felt around for Imp, hands clumsy in the darkness. He’d used the tunnel enough to know his eyes would adjust, given a little time.

The fuck was she thinking? Sure, no one liked to go into tunnels. Mole rats tended to make homes in ‘em and get bit a few times by mole rats, and you learned to avoid them.

Still, her reaction was insane.

His hands found her, patting over a shoulder? An arm? He made an effort to avoid the areas where the burns had been.

Her breathing was rapid, shallow. Had she twisted an ankle when he’d dropped her? She hadn’t made a sound, but fuck, landing wrong even a foot up could break a knee. “Hey, Imp, you get hurt?”

She didn’t respond with anything but more hyperventilating and some tiny gasps.

Fuck.

At least the fire would take a bit of time, and even if those Forged fucks found the door down to his tunnel, they’d be hard-pressed to crack that lock. It gave him time.

He pulled a flashlight from his bag, flipping it on and setting it on the ground to give them a bit of light.

Her eyes were shut tight, her lips moving. Was she whispering?

No wounds he could see. He pressed her ankles, her legs, her arms, and shoulders. No whimpers to say she’d hurt herself.

“Come on, Imp. Talk to me.”

Nothing.

He leaned in until her lips neared his ear when he could pick up on the whispers that fell from her lips.

“I’m not trapped. I’m not there. I’m not trapped. I’m not there.” The words repeated over and over again.

He released a frustrated growl before realizing he was out of his element. Rampart wasn’t someone used to having to deal with upset females. He’d lived too long as a raider and a loner. The few women he'd dealt with were the ones who chewed men like him up and spit ‘em out.

If this was a reaction to the small space, that shit wasn’t getting fixed, not by him and not in that tunnel.

He hauled her arm over his shoulders, then wrapped his around her waist, drawing her to his side.

It took a hell of a lot of effort to wrangle the girl down the tunnel. For being a spit of a girl, she sure turned out to be a hassle. Not much in terms of time, since he pretty much just hauled her.

She could be pissed at him later, but right then? Right then they needed to move.

He got her down the tunnel and through the doorway, out into the light. It let ‘em out a way down and out the side of a mountain, with lots of tree coverage. No way they’d pick up the scent, not on their own.

But, hell, he couldn’t exactly drag her much further like she was.  Nah, they needed to deal with whatever this shit was now.

Rampart captured her chin, forcing her face toward his despite her eyes still squeezed tight.

Calming frightened women wasn’t exactly something he was good at, wasn’t something he knew shit about. “Take a breath, Imp.”

Her eyes tightened further.

“Open your eyes. We’re out of the tunnel. Feel that? It’s the sun.”

She opened her eyes, and the moment she took in the open surroundings, she drew in a deep breath, her knees giving out. She’d have some big bruises on ‘em come tomorrow. “Oh, fuck, I’m not there.”

“Not where?”

“Not there. I’m not trapped.” Her voice came out soft and thin.

Rampart rubbed his thumb over her jaw, the touch meant to be soothing. “Where were you trapped?”

Her gaze moved from the light, from the surroundings, to him. Her eyes switched. They grew cold, closed off. “Nowhere.” She got to her feet, her face flushed, her breathing still harsh. She peered around, checked the mountains, the tree lines. Finally, she lifted her fingers despite a tremble in her hands. “Goodneighbor is that way. Let’s go.”

The switch in her behavior, the way she pulled shit together, well that was a bit more bite than he’d expected.

“Wait a fucking minute, Imp. I already told you I wasn’t taking you.”

“I thought having your place burnt down might make you more willing to accept my offer. I figured you could use the caps on an easy escort job.”

“Yeah, my place burnt down because of you. Nice job skipping over that. Why would I want anything more to do with you? Believe it or not, caps ain’t worth everything.”

She nailed him with a hard look, the sort that had him wanting to take a step back. Fucking lot of backbone from a girl still burnt and injured and not wearing pants. “You have a history with them. Did they do that to your face? Yeah, bet it was them, too much anger in your voice when you talk about them for it to be anyone else. I’ll give you caps, enough so you can easily rebuild where ever you want, but the real thing? I can promise you that when we get back, I’ll make sure The Forged aren’t ever a problem again.”

“You? You who would be dead by just a couple of their boys, expect to take down the entire group? How exactly are you going to take out that gang on your own?”

“It won’t be on my own. Believe it or not, I’ve made some friends in high places. Get me to Goodneighbor, and I’ll make sure they’re wiped out.”

She was lying. Had to be. No way the girl in front of him had shit, not against a group like The Forged. There was a reason they’d lasted that long, a reason all those other groups kept leaving ‘em be. It took a lot of bodies and a lot of bullets to take down someone so entrenched.

A few groups could deal with them. Brotherhood would have the manpower, Minutemen might, but The Forged never made enough of a problem for those folks to look twice at ‘em.

Still. . . revenge sounded damned good. He hadn’t gotten to return to his old home, to travel anywhere near The Forged territory. Worse, with how they kept expanding, they kept pushing him farther away. Give ‘em another few years, and who the hell knew where he’d be forced to live.

The idea of leaving her behind had bothered him anyway. He just kept thinking about finding her body on his trip back one time, of going to sleep and thinking about the way she’d looked unconscious on the ground.

Which one of the things made him agree, he wasn’t sure, didn’t really want to think about.

“Fine. I’ll take you to Goodneighbor but make no mistake. We ain’t friends.”

She pushed past him, headed in the direction of Goodneighbor. “Yeah, don’t worry about that. You’re not the sort of friend I try to make.”

Chapter Text

Everything hurt. They’d walked for hours, the heavy pack digging into the burns on Nora’s shoulders, the chest armor scraping against the wound on her side. The boots he’d given her from his pack didn’t fit, but at least it meant the socks and wrappings on her feet had room, and her bare legs had scratches from the underbrush.

Rampart walked ahead of her, the sticks crunching beneath his boots. He hadn’t said anything else. To anyone looking, they’d expect he paid attention to their surroundings.

Nora knew better. He ignored her on purpose, his shoulders tight, jaw clenched even after all that time. He’d made a good show of avoiding any interaction with her.

Still, it gave her time to study him. He handled threats with ease, telling her he knew what he was doing. Had he been a Minuteman at one point? Not brotherhood, she was sure of that. Not enough discipline, not enough strategy. Maybe a merc; he moved on his own and worked like a man used to working on his own rather than as part of a team.

After a pack of mutts charged them, Nora was damned glad she’d talked him into taking her there. The more she traveled, the more she moved, the more pain ran through her body. Trying to keep herself alive when putting one foot in front of the other took all her strength right then.

Rampart turned his head as if checking to the left, but Nora knew damned well he was trying to check on her quietly.

The concern irked her.

He turned. “Sun’s going down. Let’s stop for the night.”

Nora kept moving and tried to push past him. “Goodneighbor isn’t that far. We could get there by tomorrow night if we don’t stop.”

Rampart caught her arm. “You’re about to drop right now, Imp.”

“Stop calling me that! My name is Nora.”

He pulled his hand back. “Fine, Nora. Ain’t no way you’re walking another twenty-four hours. Even if I wanted to, you’d be on your back in another hour or two.”

The fact he was right annoyed her more than his words. Still, Nora had never been all that reasonable. “I’m fine.”

“You ain’t, and I’m not dying because you’re stubborn and want to show how fucking tough you are. There’s an old house around that next corner. I’ve stayed there before, ain’t fancy but it’s safe. You want to keep going on your fucking own, go for it. Don’t expect me to bury you when I find your corpse tomorrow.”

She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. He was right. She needed rest. Being stupid would get her killed, and despite everything that had happened, she didn’t want that. “Okay.”

True to his word, Rampart led them to a house set back near a hill. Inside wasn’t much, the same trashed decor that filled all the wasteland. Dust covered broken furniture, old bottles, cans, and empty chem containers on the floor.

She winced as she crossed the threshold, the straps of her pack digging in. Burns were a whole different level of hell. She’d dealt with so many injuries during her time in the wasteland, but nothing had felt the way the burns did.

The weight of the pack lifted, Rampart helping it off her shoulders. She hissed but grabbed at the pack as soon as it was free.

She had things in the pack she didn’t need him to find.

Whoever he was, she couldn't trust him. How many people had thought trying to kidnap and ransom her were good choices? How many ambushes had happened because they thought cutting the head off the snake would kill the snake?

What none of them had figured out was that she wasn’t the head. She’d made sure the Brotherhood could stand without her, made sure the Minutemen didn’t need her. Cut her off, and the rest of the beast would still devour them.

Still, she’d rather not die to prove that point.

Inside her pack, her wedding rings sat, along with Danse’s dog tags. Both sentimental bullshit that she liked to take out and look at on nights when the pain wasn’t quite enough. Still, he’d have questions about the tags, questions about the general insignia Preston had given her, questions she didn’t want to have to answer.

Rampart put his hands up before huffing and pushing past her. “Fine. Carry it yourself.”

Nora dragged herself to the small cleared area near some boarded up areas and beside an old firepit. Clearly, where he slept. She spread out her sleeping bag and all but collapsed down.

She hadn’t felt this run down since she’d first woken up, when she’d hauled herself out of that tomb of a vault, when she’d made the trek from Concord to Diamond City. She’d grown, strengthened, learned after that and yet all that strength had been seared away.

It left her tense, like a wounded animal.

If she’d been there with Preston, with Hancock, she’d have been able to relax. They were friends, people who wouldn’t take advantage of her weakened states, but she had no such trust in Rampart. It meant she rested her back against the corner, determined to watch him carefully.

#

It took all of five minutes before Nora’s eyes closed, and she was snoring.

Girl was run down as fuck. He’d thought about stopping sooner, but he’d known the house was the safest bet. He’d set it up with defenses, knew the area. Close enough to minutemen patrol routes to keep the uglier wildlife, both raider and animal alike, from getting too close.

Her legs sported scratches and bruises from the trip, but that didn’t shock him. Walking around without pants wasn’t the smartest idea ever. Still, there hadn’t been much of a choice. At least he’d tossed her a shirt before everything went to shit.

He didn’t carry extra clothes because stealing ‘em was easy enough. Nothing but extra socks and shoes because you didn’t fuck with your feet.

Still, she impressed him. Even with how she’d been dragging, she’d kept up. She hadn’t complained, hadn’t begged to stop, hadn’t uttered a single word. He’d expected complaints and bitching from the soft woman, but she’d endured, just trudged along no matter what.

When they’d needed to cross a tree that had fallen across the trail, he’d paused to help her over. She’d given him a withering look that could have shriveled the balls off a deathclaw and crossed it herself.

And he hated to admit it, but that fucking attitude turned him on.

He didn’t need soft girls, didn’t have time to fuck with delicate flowers. Not that she struck him as tough, of course, but each glare? His cock picked up on it and decided it liked her.

Not that it would go anywhere. He didn’t kid himself. With his face like it was, all fucked up from the brand, she was so far outside of his league. If she ever let him touch her, it’d be slumming it, and he didn’t need that sort of ego kick.

Rampart shook his head as he crept, letting her rest. He started the fire, put some cram and molerat chunks in a pot hung over the fire for dinner. He set up his sleeping bag across the fire from hers and rechecked the perimeter while the food cooked.

Damn, how long had it been since he’d had a meal with someone?

Shit, he couldn’t even remember. Even when he made it into towns, he never interacted with the folks. Most of ‘em took one look at his face and cringed. Even his hook-ups happened in the dark, in the alleyways of Goodneighbor or Bunker Hill when the woman could pretend he was anything other than what he was.

He rubbed his hands over his face, flinching when his fingers caught on the rough skin over the brand. Sometimes he still woke with that scent in his nostrils, the burning of his flesh and his own scream as real as his breathing.

What a fucking lesson, huh?

Rampart shook the memory loose. It didn’t matter. The past didn’t fucking matter. They’d taught him a lesson, and maybe he should be grateful for it.

A harsh laugh left his lips. Some lesson. Here he was doing the same shit he’d done before. Trying to help someone and paying the price for it.

His mama always said he was stupid, and here he was proving her right once again.

He walked back into the house and served up the food in the empty cram cans. “Hey, Imp.”

She jerked away, eyes so wide a ring of white surrounded the blue. Her gaze darted around before it settled on him.

She released the breath, the panic sliding out of her. That trust? It made him want to snarl.

He didn’t care for trust.

“You let me sleep?”

“Not for long, but I figured you needed it.” He held the can of food out to her. “Ain’t fancy, but it’ll keep you from starving.”

She took the food, then pulled a pocket knife from the bag she held onto like treasure. Made him want to see what she kept in there that was so fucking important. The knife clicked as she flicked it open, a casual twist of her wrist that said she was comfortable with the weapon. She used it as a fork, blade away from her as she scooped a bite from the can and then ate it from the blade. “Thanks.”

Rampart dragged his gaze from her lips. “Don’t think this makes us friends. I just don’t want you keeling over and dying before I get my payment.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Don’t worry about that. I don’t make a habit of becoming friends with assholes.”

“Some stuck-up, pampered bitch calling me an asshole ain’t exactly hurting my feelings.”

“And some no-good coward who is only out for himself isn’t something I worry about. All you are is the help. You’ll get your caps, and I’ll take care of your problems for you.”

His shoulders tightened at the insults. He was a lot of things, but a coward wasn’t one of ‘em. And fuck her, he didn’t need anyone to take care of his problems. “I ain’t a coward, Imp. I’ve just lived long enough to know what trying to save the world’ll get you. You want to know?” He pointed at the brand on his face. “This. This is what it gets you. You still lose, but the world makes fucking sure you remember the lesson. Guess what? I only had to be taught it once before that shit sunk in.”

Her gaze softened as she looked at the brand. Her fingers twitched like she wanted to touch it, but hell, she was smart enough not to try. He’d probably snap at her like a feral.

“There’s a price for everything. Sometimes that price is high, but it’s still worth paying.”

“What do you know about prices? You think I didn’t get a good look at you? You think I didn’t see all that flawless fucking skin? You ain’t paid a cap in your life, Imp, so don’t sit there quoting some philosophy at me, some save the world bullshit. It’s easy to say it from wherever the fuck you’ve lived but in the real world? That shit is a fucking pipe dream, and I got the scars to prove it.”

She stared at him, that steel back in her eyes, the hardness that made him think for a split second she wasn’t what he thought. She didn’t glare, just watched him like she wasn’t even there. Something else played in her head, some memory.

Probably some boy leaving her the morning after or some other trivial shit that made for tragedy in a girl like that’s life. Her eyes slid closed, and her throat worked like something was stuck there before she shook her head. “You don’t know as much as you think you do.” She pushed the can back toward him, having eaten little.

“You need more food than that, even as little as you are.”

“Thank you, but I’ve found my appetite has dried up. Goodnight.” She gave him no chance to argue, stretching out on her sleeping back and turning her back to him.

Rampart sighed, feeling like he was kicking a fucking puppy, but let her be.

Better they interact as little as possible.

Chapter Text

Nora woke with a sharp breath, the fire having died off, leaving her in darkness. The darkness clawed at her, opening up wounds that hadn't ever healed.

Just like in the tunnel, she went back to the cryotube. She swallowed down the panic, repeating to herself she wasn't back in that vault.

The risk of Rampart hearing, of him realizing was too high. He'd seen one breakdown; he didn't deserve to see anything else.

She missed Nick, the way he'd run the fingers of his good hand through her hair and make sure the lights never turned off. If it happened, like when an elevator had stopped moving, and the lights had turned off, he helped her.

He'd pulled her against his chest and reminded her everything would be fine, that she'd escaped that place and wasn't going back.

But out there? Alone except for the man she couldn't trust?

She pulled herself up, still in the shirt and boots, and crept from the house. Rampart didn't stir as she left.

The moonlight shone down, lighting up the ground, catching in the muddy puddles from the days old rain. It let her pull in a full breath. Without the walls, the stifling darkness, she could breathe.

Rampart's words swirled in her head, his claim that she'd never suffered, that she'd never paid.

He didn't know anything. Nora had suffered. She'd lost everything that ever mattered to her. She'd lost Nate, lost her entire world, lost her son, lost Danse.

Maybe she didn't carry scars on her skin as he did, but that didn't mean life hadn't carved chunks from her soul.

"So it ain't just small spaces? It's darkness in general? How the fuck have you survived if you're afraid of a little darkness?"

Nora sat in a chair beside an outdoor table. It reminded her of the set she'd had before the world had ended, of the evenings she'd sit across from Nate, drinks in their hands, just talking beneath the stars.

The chair across from her groaned as Rampart lowered his weight into it. "Ain't talking to me, Imp?"

Her finger ran across the lip of the table. "You know, I don't need a babysitter."

He sighed, his forearms coming to rest on the table. "You can't be that pissed I called you a bitch. You did start it by calling me an asshole."

"Are we really down to 'you started it first?'"

He huffed a soft laugh, the first spark of softness from him. "Ain't ever claimed to be mature."

"Guess that's something we have in common."

"Well, there had to be something."

She sighed and sat back, bringing her knees up and her heels to the edge of the chair. "You sure think you know a lot about me."

"I know a lot about everyone. You need it to survive. I've seen lots of city girls, girls who've never had to work for shit. I don't mean to shit on you about it, it ain't your fault, okay? Hell, if I was born into a life where I got to sit back safe and sound, like I'd ever turn that down."

The words he'd meant as a peace offering did nothing for her. He was still wrong, and she still couldn't correct him.

Why did she even want to?

Why did she care what he thought?

"So, who is it you know in Goodneighbor?"

The picture of Hancock had her smiling. His crooked grin, the way he'd wrap her in a hug when she walked through those gates. "No one important," she lied.

"Keeping secrets now?"

"Secrets keep people safe."

"Fuck that. Secrets get 'em killed, Imp, but I ain't gonna press. Got enough shit on my side of the fence without worrying about what's been left on yours."

She shifted in the seat, the action pulling a wince from the burn on her side.

"Burn bothering you? Come on, unbutton the shirt."

"Excuse me?" Her fingers went to the collar of the shirt.

He lifted a small tin, the corner of his lips tipped up. "Ain't making a move. This'll help the burns, numb the skin."

"It's fine."

He lifted his arm, the moonlight catching on something that shined. Red, inflamed skin showed. "If anyone knows the care a burn needs, it's me. Ain't shame in properly treating a wound. Tomorrow'll be hell if it's already hurting. Come on, now, ain't nothing I haven't already seen."

Nora ignored the heat on her cheeks as she reached for the first button.

#

Rampart tried not to leer, he really fucking did, but he was only a man. Each button that slipped through the hole, that revealed another swath of skin, had him ready to fuck the whole 'don't try anything' plan.

He popped open the tin open, the salve he'd learned to make while with the Forged releasing that hubflower scent.

Most of the Forged were so hopped up on chems, they didn't notice the burns. Fuck, Rampart hadn't until he'd gotten clean.

He scooted his chair over, then grabbed the arm of her chair and pulled it closer. No wonder he called her Imp, she weighed all of nothing.

She wore a bra, the only thing that made it so he didn't try something. The slight chill in the air had her nipples pressing against the fabric like a fucking dinner bell, but he ignored it. Ignored them, ignored the way the white fabric of her underwear showed against her hip, just fucking ignored all that skin between the tiny strips of fabric she wore.

Yep. Didn't notice that shit at all.

He pulled off the gauze over her collarbone and her side. He hadn't covered anything else, hadn't needed to.

The burns had taken on that shiny quality. Yeah, they had to hurt. In fact, he was impressed she hadn't said shit before then.

He rubbed his fingers on the salve, coating them before reaching forward and smearing it on the burn on her side.

She hissed in a harsh breath through her teeth.

"Easy, Imp. It'll feel better in a minute." He set his other hand on her hip to keep her still as he applied the salve over the burn, using more of it than he would have for himself.

Once he'd deemed the burn well covered, he gathered more from the tin. It tingled on his fingers as the hubflower oil started to work. "You're tougher than you look."

"You've got to be to get to my age." She leaned forward to allow him to reach the burn at her collarbone, and fuck, that one was trickier.

If he twisted his wrist, he'd brush his hand against her breast, against the nipple that poked against her bra.

He shoved that shit down and focused on the task. "You ain't old. What are you? All of twenty?"

She released a thin whine when he spread salve on the burn. "A bit older than that, actually."

He kept talking, trying to distract her from the unpleasant task. "Oh yeah? Well, Imp, I'm forty. I got you beat no matter what. Almost done here, okay?"

By the time he finished, when he was sure the burns were covered enough to ease the discomfort and protect them, she trembled.

Yeah, treating burns was a bitch. It's why so few stayed with the Forged. Better to join one of the other gangs, the easy ones. Pretend to be animals, or play with fucking blades, or about anything other than fire.

Fire was fucking stupid.

He set a hand on her cheek. "All done, Imp. Wasn't so bad, huh? I've seen hardened raiders cry over that shit. You took it like a champ."

She leaned into the touch as she pulled in a shaky breath. "I've had worse."

"Oh yeah?" His thumb stroked her cheek. "What happened? Someone knick your finger when doing your nails?"

She tilted her head and moved her hair out of the way.

Rampart leaned in close, the light shitty for any real detail. Sure enough, near her ear, a discolored scar sat. Not a burn, not even quite a wound. A bite, but the edges were rough, spanning out almost like some fucking radiation burn. "The fuck took a bite out of you?"

"Infected molerat."

"Infected with what?"

"Something vault-tec cooked up"

"Wrong place, wrong time?"

"Not exactly. Vault 81, they had this kid who'd gotten bit, who was getting sicker and sicker. I went vault crawling to find him a cure."

"Did you find it?" His fingers stroked the rough skin.

"Yeah, but there was only enough for one of us."

"Well, you're sitting here, so it sounds like you made the smart choice."

"Not the smart choice, but I made the right choice. I gave the cure to him and spent three weeks in a bed. I almost didn't make it."

So she'd gotten the fucking mark doing what was right? Didn't that just figure? Was that some sort of fucking cosmic joke?

Both of 'em branded by their own stupid choices.

His lips brushed the scarring, rewarded with a soft moan. It let him keep going, to dart his tongue out and taste the mark.

Her hands went to his shoulders, pulling him closer, begging him silently.

He moved the kisses up to her jaw, just in front of her ear. He let his teeth close down on her lobe and pull softly.

She arched into the touch, so close her breasts pressed against his chest.

"It been a while there, Imp?"

The words seemed to pour over like cold water, dousing all that lovely lust that had simmered moments before.

She pulled back and stood, knocking the chair backward. Hell, girl looked more freaked out than when she'd faced down the Forged raiders.

Her hand wiped across her neck as if she could wipe away the lingering heat, the feeling of his lips. "Th-thanks for treating my burns." She clasped the sides of her shirt together, fingers tight like she held a lifeline rather than some fabric.

Rampart didn't move, didn't say shit as she fled back to the house.

So, seemed he was scarier than the dark to her.

Just fucking great.

Chapter Text

Nora ignored Rampart with the same dedication he’d used the day before. She looked anywhere other than him, walked quick enough to stay in the front, and down-right refused to acknowledge anything he said.

It was petty. It was childish. She didn’t care.

The feeling of his lips against her skin, of how close she’d been to giving in, it refused to leave her. She’d done this, had been down this path before. She knew exactly where it led, and she’d be damned if she let herself hurt all over again.

All she had to do was think back to Nate, to how she’d dug his grave and pulled his body from the vault to bury him. The ache in her chest still hurt, still took her breath away. If that wasn’t enough to convince her, Danse’s smiling face should have been. He’d been her chance at a do-over, at a real life. That had been taken from her when he’d found out what he was and she hadn’t been able to talk him down. Another grave to dig, no matter Arthur’s feeling about it.

She couldn’t do it again. She couldn’t dig another grave for another man the wasteland would take from her. Twice had hollowed her out, a third time would kill her. She’d crumble into nothing.

No.

She needed to keep him at a distance, remember that life loved to steal things from her. If she had nothing, life couldn’t steal anything.

“We’re gonna want to stay more west.” He quickened his steps to walk beside her. “Forged like to stay near base, and while they don’t normally crawl quite so far, I don’t really want to risk it.”

Nora shook her head. “I have somewhere to stop at, first.”

“This ain’t a sight-seeing trip, Imp. We need to get the fuck out of this area and to Goodneighbor as fast as we can.”

“I don’t care. It’s on the way, and it is important.”

He groaned, but it was the groan of a man giving in. He kept walking beside her, kept up with her for another mile before he tried to break the silence. “Look, about last night, I’m sorry if I crossed some line I didn’t see, okay?”

“It’s fine.”

“Ain’t fine, not with how you bolted and ain’t talking to me today.”

Nora shifted the pack on her shoulders to ease the ache. She took a deep breath before stopping and turning toward him. “It wasn’t you. I just don’t live the sort of life where complications can happen. Things like that, they’re for other people, people who have lives that can fit it.”

He cocked up an eyebrow, the action pulling at the scarring over the side of his face. It let her look at the brand. She got the sense it was supposed to be a brand, at least, like how they used to brand cattle. However, whatever had done it had remained on his skin too long and just turned the entire side of his face to a melted mess.

“Didn’t know traders live such complicated lives.”

“Well, I do. I can’t do whatever that was last night. I don’t want that.”

He stepped closer, until she had to lift her face to keep meeting his gaze. “You sure about that? Because you made some nice sounds last night before you lost your nerve.”

She swallowed hard, trying to mean her words, but damn it was difficult. She missed that flutter in her stomach, missed having someone to curl up with in the darkness, missed the weight of a body on hers.

She had friends, she had people she could sit and talk with, but she missed having more.

“Well, I hope you remember them because you won’t hear them from me again.” She took a step back and resumed the walk toward where they headed.

His laugh mocked her. “Sure, Imp, we’ll see how long that lasts.”

#

The Slog. Rampart hated the fucking Slog. Wasn’t ghouls, he didn’t give a fuck about ghouls. Hell, half of ‘em had nicer skin than he did.

It was Wiseman he hated, the do-gooder who was just too damn friendly.

He hadn’t given the Slog odds beyond a few months, not with how soft all the folks were. They’d started up too close to the Forged, too isolated from help. Then, somehow, someone had hardened the target.

Better fencing came in, turrets that made him think twice, and trained dogs that kept up guard.

“This is where we had to go? Really?”

Nora shrugged before she leaned down to pet one of the dogs that rushed to greet her. “Hey there, Dogmeat. Keeping the place up for me?”

“You know that mutt?”

She turned a glare on him. “Dogmeat is hardly a mutt.” She turned back toward the dog and pulled the animal into a hug. “Missed you too, boy.”

Rampart shook his head. Crazy woman. “So I take it you been here before?”

“I’ve been everywhere before.”

Before he could ask more, the raspy voice of Wiseman called out. “Nora? I see our welcoming party is doing his job.”

Nora rose to her feet again as Wiseman approached. “You think I can’t tell you’ve been sneaking him treats? He’s put on ten pounds. You spoil him.”

“I like the company at night, so I bribe him with grilled radroach.”

“Why do you think I sent him here? Figured you could use a friend.”

“Wouldn’t need it if my other friends came to visit more often.” Wiseman cracked a grin at that before pulling Nora into a tight hug.

The exchange was so easy, Rampart turned his gaze away like he was a spectator to something he had no business seeing.

Fuck, had he ever had a friend like that? Someone just honestly happy to see him?

“Come on; we’ll talk after we get inside.”

“Please tell me you have pants I can have.”

Wiseman laughed before waving both of them to follow. “For you Nora? I think we can manage.”

Rampart followed, frowning. Who exactly was this woman?

#

Nora eased back on the couch beside Wiseman, glad to finally be dressed in something that fit. Not just fit, but something of her own. He’d saved one of the vault suits she’d left there, had Arlen fix the stitches and tears.

She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed those stupid suits. Wasn’t like she always wore them, but they always reminded her of her start, of what she’d come from.

Rampart had taken off, probably sulking somewhere. If there was one thing she’d learned about him, he hated people. One look at The Slog and he’d been ready to bolt.

“So what happened, really?” Wiseman handed over a Nuka Cola.

“I got too comfortable, and someone took advantage.”

“And your friend?”

“Not a friend, but he saved me.” She shrugged as she took a drink. “It’s cold. You expecting me?”

“When that girl and her brothers showed up, I had a pretty good idea you’d come tailing after.”

She released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She hadn’t wanted to ask about the kids in case they hadn’t made it, hadn’t wanted to hear. “So they’re okay?”

“Yeah. I sent them with one of the patrols headed for Sanctuary. I mean, they lost their home, their father, they’re gonna have a lot of settling to do, but they’re alive. Thanks to you, from what I heard.”

“Not really. I gave their dad weapons but should have done more. I gave him the rope he used to hang himself with.” Nora leaned her head back, the bottle between her thighs. “He’s dead because I didn’t do more, because I left him on his own. Those kids don’t have a dad because I screwed up.”

“You can’t save everyone, and trying will kill you.”

Maybe. Maybe she didn’t care.

Instead of saying that, because Wiseman was one hell of a mother hen, Nora lifted her head to look at him. “I’m going after the raiders who did it. You know much about The Forged?”

Wiseman nodded, lips pressed together like the topic wasn’t welcome. “Yeah. Psychos who use chem and fire, a terrible combination. Hell, a lot of them end up doing more damage to themselves than anyone else. Still, when they want to hit a settlement or a caravan, not much survives.”

“If they’re such a problem, why am I just hearing about them?”

“They keep to themselves. Only been in the last month or two they’ve ventured out. We used to have bigger problems with them, but I guess when you upped our defenses here, they figured there were easier targets. Still, I’ve gotten word of them spreading out, getting bolder.”

Well, that explained why she hadn’t dealt with them much. She tended to stay out of the northeastern area of the Commonwealth when she could. It seemed she’d ignored the area too much, however, and the infection of the Forged had grown.

She wasn’t going to ignore it anymore.

“What do you need from us?”

She smiled at the offer. “Trust me, the wounds The Forged leave are no joke. I’m going to have The Slog set up with extra defense and send the wounded back here, if that’s okay.”

“You’ve done a lot for us, Nora, we’ll be there for you. I’ll make sure we have no one unessential staying here to clear the beds. I don’t have any real medical treatment; us ghouls don’t require much-”

Nora lifted her hand to silence him. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll talk to Cade, get him to gather some field scribes, and I’ll even see if I can’t wrangle a few more. I just need the space.”

Wiseman laughed, that soft chuckle she loved. “You always ask for things like they’re a favor. None of us would be here if it weren’t for you, Nora. You tell us you need something, you’ve got it. We all owe you a lot more than we could ever repay.”

She shook her head, lifting her gaze to his. “You don’t get it, Wiseman. This? This is ugly. I don’t want to ask for things that put people at risk. Everything I’ve done to help, I’ve done it to save people. If I drag you right back into the fire, what was the point?”

“Is that why you didn’t ask any of us to help with the Institute? You have friends all over, but you didn’t ask any of us.”

“And what if I had? I would have had your blood on my hands. No, the Brotherhood was the right choice. They were here to fight, and they would have done it whether I helped them or not.”

Wiseman reached out and caught her hand, squeezing it gently. “You’re so busy trying to make sure you don’t lose anyone that you don’t let anyone close, you know that?”

Nora twisted her hand to squeeze back. “I know, but I’ve lost too many people already. I won’t lose another if I can help it. I don’t think I can handle it.”

“You’ll lose people either way. The only thing you can control is what you know of them before you do.”

Chapter Text

Rampart checked the turret near the northern edge of The Slog. It had a clicking when it panned left, telling him someone had fucked up the alignment.

While he wasn’t a mechanic by any means, anyone who failed to learn how to set up a proper turret didn’t live long.

He didn’t care about what happened to the settlement, didn’t care about saving ‘em. He just was bored, needed something to pass the time. Nothing else to do, not with Nora off talking to fucking Wiseman.

If he ended up in that conversation, he’d just get roped into something else.

And, sure, he didn’t want to come walking past this fucking place again to see it burnt to the ground, didn’t want to see bodies strung from the trees. That ghoul, Holly, she’d flirted with him and smiled, and he didn’t want to see what The Forged would do to her if they got a hold of her.

But that wasn’t why he was checking turrets, wasn’t why he was securing the fence.

Nope.

Just boredom.

“I keep telling them to check the alignment on any turret set for a larger than 60% spread, but Arlen never listens. He tells me that in his day, the smaller gears worked fine.”

Rampart twisted his hand further inside the machine, going by feel. Sure enough, the smaller gear made him grit his teeth. “Fuckers always want to cheap out, but cheaping out gets pricey when raiders can skirt your turrets.”

Nora leaned her hip against the other side of the turret. “It’s not a matter of cheaping out. I think he hates the idea of building something that kills people, so it’s his rebellion.”

“Well, I hope he enjoys his rebellion when he’s choking on his blood. I ain’t got the parts to put the right gear into this.”

“You don’t need them. These will work, you just have to know how to work around it. Move, I’ll do it.”

He scowled as he extracted his hand. “By all means, Imp.”

Nora rose up on her toes to wind her arm into the open panel near the top. She took a lip between her teeth and closed her eyes. Her arm rotated, the muscles twitching beneath the tight fabric of the vault suit she’d been given.

A vault suit that showed far more of her figure than she should be walking around in. Hell, he would swear that shit was more tempting than when she’d been in just underwear. Maybe because all he could focus on was that fucking zipper and how easy it’d be to strip her out of it.

A click, a pop, a soft grunt from her, and Nora pulled her hand from the turret. She reattached the control unit, and it whirred to life, sans the clicking. “There we go.”

“How’d you learn that?”

She shrugged and brushed her hands over her thighs. “Turrets keep people alive. Learning how to keep them going is like learning how to repair armor or modify guns. You learn it, or you die.”

Hadn’t he thought the same thing? “So where is it you’re from, exactly? Because I keep picturing you at some place like Diamond City, but then you know Wiseman here, you know folks in Goodneighbor. You keep throwing me for a loop.”

“Only because you assume you know anything about me. You took one look at me and made your guesses, and now you’re having trouble because those guesses aren’t making sense. Have you stopped to think maybe the problem is with your initial guess?”

Rampart stuck his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Maybe. So, you gonna tell me already? How is it a girl like you seems to know so fucking much?”

“I’ve traveled a lot. Hardly a settlement or corner of the Commonwealth I haven’t been to.” She took a step, then nodded for him to follow.

So, a walk?

“Most traders stick to specific routes, and those stick around the bigger buyers.”

“I’m not most traders. I’ve been from Sanctuary to Spectacle Island, from Far Harbor to the Glowing Sea. I even spent two magical and frustrating months out in Nuka World. There’s not a part of the Commonwealth I don’t know by heart.”

He offered a side-long glance, trying to picture it. This girl out in Nuka World? “You’re lying. Pack would chew you up and spit you out.”

“Mason’s bark is worse than his bite. It was the Black Twins who gave me the most trouble.”

Calling the raider bosses by name had him almost tripping over his own feet. Fuck, the girl wasn’t kidding, was she? Just the thought of her standing there in front of the Alpha, of her around those fuckers? “Colter sure is letting in anyone these days, I guess. Getting access took me months, and they still gave me shit.”

“Colter isn’t Overboss anymore.”

“Who is?”

She shrugged, her gait better than it had been. Must finally be healing up. “He picked the wrong victim for the Gauntlet from what I heard. They put him down, freed the slaves, took the other parks, and worked out something between Nuka World and the Minutemen. If you wanted to visit, I could probably pull some strings and get you a day pass.” She offered a mocking grin before winking.

“Cute, Imp.” And, fuck him, it was cute. She hadn’t shown him humor yet, mostly sticking with disdain. This was more like how she’d greeted Wisemen, an easiness to her he hadn’t seen much of yet.

Was this the real girl? Because he liked it. Sure, snarling was good, but nothing better than when snarling turned to purring.

“You’re walking better. Bet you could make the trip to Goodneighbor on your own, now. Surprised you ain’t paying me off and sending me on my way. Ain’t like you don’t seem to have a lot of friends.”

“I still need you. I told you, I’ll have The Forged wiped out, and I will. I don’t like casualties, though, and whether you want to admit it to me or not, you know The Forged. I need to know what you know to reduce the risks.”

“Why do you think I know shit about ‘em?”

Nora pointed at his face. “They did that, and I know raiders enough to know, they don’t do that to just anyone. Raiders will kill anyone but that? That’s sending a message. You had to be pretty important to them for them to want to do that.” She didn’t slow her steps like she wasn’t discussing the most painful part of his past. “My guess? You were one of them. You reached into the fire like it was nothing, knew how to make salve to counter burns, and you had a lot of anger at them. I’d guess you were a Forged raider, did something they didn’t like, and they gave you that before they exiled you. Makes sense why you avoid their territory, and why you had an escape tunnel.”

“So you think you know everything, huh?”

“No, not everything. You said you got that from trying to help someone. What happened?”

He found himself answering before he could even consider it. He wanted her to think something good about him, maybe? Wanted her to see something other than the scarred up, worthless man he’d become. “We were clearing a settlement that refused to pay. I’d already started to not like the shit happening. At first, it’d been easy. I was so high all the time, what I did didn’t fucking matter. I barely remembered it. Then, I decided, fuck that shit. I got off the chems, and I lost the stomach for violence.  It was like I finally opened my eyes, like I saw shit I hadn’t seen before. Well, I had point, supposed to make sure no one ran for back-up. On the back edge of the settlement someone moved, just a little scrap of a person. Turned out the family had a son, couldn’t have been more than eight. I figured his mama probably stashed him in the shed when she saw us coming. He heard footsteps and bolted. I had the shot, I could have taken him out, but fuck. It was just a kid. No reason a kid should die for bullshit that ain’t his fault or his fight. I figured no one saw him, so I let him go.”

“You saved his life.”

“Nah. Like I told you before, doesn’t matter what you do. I packed my shit, ready to sneak off that night. Just the final wake-up call that raider life wasn’t for me. Couple of the boys came in, said Slag wanted to see me. I was pretty tight with him, the boss, the best shot he’d seen. Wasn’t surprising he’d call me in, I was always helping ‘em plan shit, helping ‘em set shit up. Once I got clean, I was the only one with a head for strategy. I went in to find that same boy bound in front of the forge, blood down his face, eyes fucking terrified. Slag said if I was anyone else, he’d have tossed me in, too, but he had something special in mind, so he had ‘em hold me down while he did this to my face. Fuck, I didn’t even hear the kid die over my own screams.”

Nora caught his hand, which he hadn’t even realized was tracing the mark on his face, following grooves of ruined flesh. “They killed that kid, not you. You made a choice to spare him, and it’s not your fault that they were monsters.”

“We’re all monsters, Imp. It’s what I figured out that night, what I figured out when they exiled me, and I had to drag my ass out of there. With my face looking like chewed up shit, no settlement would let me in, not that they should have. Helping people, it’s fucking stupid, and it always bites you in the ass.”

“You helped me.”

“And look where it’s gotten me. Someone got away the day I saved you, must have let Slag know. I should have chased ‘em down, but instead, I helped you. They wouldn’t be chasing after just anyone like this; they’ve gotta know it’s me. So, now I lost my place, got raiders on my ass, and I’m dragging you around the Commonwealth. Doesn’t seem like helping people is working out too well for me.” He twisted, backing her up against the tree they passed.

Her back hit the tree, but she didn’t show any fear. “What it’s gotten you is allies. You’ve been hiding out for years, and yes, they might be after you right now, but you won’t have to hide after I’ve finished with them.”

Rampart set his hand on the tree above her, leaning into her space, crowding her. “Oh really, Imp? You’re going to face The Forged? You keep talking about allies, but what I see is a little girl out of her element. A little girl who has needed my help but keeps making pretty big promises.”

“Keep looking, and you’ll see more.”

While he’d bet she’d intended those words to be a threat, all he could think about was what more he’d like to see from her. He pictured stripping that suit off her and seeing what more she could go. “Is that an offer?”

Her gaze dropped from his eyes to his lips, and the longing there had him sure how he’d spend the rest of the night. A few quick jerks to get the suit down off her, hike a leg up around his hip, and fuck her against that tree.

He leaned in to steal a kiss, to give her what it was pretty clear she wanted when something to the left caught his attention.

They both twisted to look in the direction the light had come from, out on the edges beyond The Slog.

Flames.

It could only mean one thing.

The Forged had found him, again.

#

Nora rushed, Rampart on her heels. The flames said The Forged had found them. They were close to their territory, but she still struggled to believe it could be a coincidence. They had to have followed them, but Rampart had said they’d look for him.

The flames placed the raiders far enough back that she and Rampart could get their weapons and ensure the Slog locked down. The last thing she wanted was to risk putting Wiseman and his people in danger.

“Pick up the speed, Imp,” Rampart snarled as he rushed past her.

She glared at his back before pushing herself to speed up. Her burns still ached, but the ache had dulled. It had become mildly uncomfortable at worse.

“What’s wrong, Nora?” Wiseman ignored Rampart, his gaze on her instead. The trust in those eyes ate at her, reminded her why she had to keep them safe.

“The Forged are coming. We’ve got ten minutes if we’re lucky before they hit the outer defenses. I need you to get everyone packed up and ready to go just in case.”

Wiseman caught her arm, pulling her to a stop. “What’s the plan? We can help.”

Nora shook her head and his grip from her arm. She went to the weapons locked and started to pick out the items. She kept her rifle, her pistol, but also slid a shotgun over her back and used a pouch around her waist for extra ammunition. “I’m going out there. They’re ten minutes out, and I know I can slow them down. Wait ten, if you don’t see a flare, take off for the nearest Minuteman patrol route.”

“I can help, Nora.”

“I know you can, but I can’t focus if I know you’re people aren’t safe. They need someone to make sure they get out of here, and I need that to be you.”

He sighed, but he’d dealt with her long enough to know she wouldn’t back down. “You can’t go out there alone.”

Rampart cleared his throat from behind them, reminding Nora he was there at all. He’d strapped his armor back on, and at that moment, he looked as menacing as she’d ever seen. When walking, he’d had armor, but nothing like this. He’d raided their weapons closest as well, with more blades and guns strapped to him than seemed reasonable. It reminded her that he wasn’t some farmer, he wasn’t a new Minuteman she had to show the ropes or some Brotherhood initiate she had to keep alive.

Rampart didn’t need her to take charge, didn’t need her to teach him or take care of him. He’d have faced them all on his own.

“Ready?”

Nora forced herself to focus before she hooked four stimpacks to the strap at her thigh. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

The Slog was calmer than she’d have expected. It seemed Wiseman had kept up on the drills because each person focused on their jobs. Arlen took count to ensure no one was left behind and kept an eye on the kids, Holly handled the medicine, and a few Nora didn’t recognize had weapons.

It let her breathe easy as she followed Rampart through the back door. Judging from the fires, The Forged would hit from the back, so Wiseman and the rest would go out the front and wait just down the road.

She twisted around the corner, near Arlen’s workshop and the opening in the inner fence.

Rampart stopped in front of the workshop door. “Hold up; I need one more thing.” He pushed the door open and entered the dark room.

Nora followed. “What? Because I asked if he could get those Giddyup Buttercups to actually move so I could ride one into battle, and Arlen told me no.”

“Not that, Imp.” His hand closed around her arm before he pulled her against his chest.

“We don’t have time for this.” Even as she said it, she tilted her face toward his, using his warm breath and his voice when the darkness kept her blind.

And, amazingly, she didn’t panic. Not with him against her, not with his hand on her wrist, his body against hers.

At least until a familiar click of metal and something tight on her wrist. “What are you doing?”

Another click secured her arm to something, and he took the flare gun from her waist.

“You’re not going out there. I’ve kept you alive so far, ain’t looking for you to run into a fight you’re not prepared for so you can get killed. I’ll be back, just as soon as this is over.”

She yanked at the cuffs, but they wouldn’t give. “Let me out right now. I’m going to help.”

HIs lips pressed against her forehead before he pulled back. “Take a strip out of me when I get back, huh?” He pressed something into her palm, and then he was gone.

The darkness crept inside her with him gone, with her shield gone. Before she could panic, she shifted her hands to find. . .

He’d left her the flashlight. One flick of her finger and the place lit up.

She set the flashlight on the counter beside her before removing a bobby pin from her hair. It was a good thing he kept underestimating her, wasn’t it?

Chapter Text

Foolish.

Rampart knew fucking well it was stupid to leave Nora behind. Another gun in the fight and another body for people to aim for was something you never turned down. That shit increased your odds of walking away from a fight alive.

But then Rampart had seen her talking to Wiseman, had seen all those fucking soft settlers talking to her, looking at her like she had all the answers, and how could he let her end up as just a corpse? Nah, fuck that.

It was stupid, but Rampart was faster on his own, and his aim could keep him alive. Find a good vantage point, set up, and end the fuckers before they knew what was after ‘em. Nora would be pissed, but that was fine.

The way she’d tilted her face toward his when in that room? Well fuck, that shit was worth coming back for. After she calmed down, maybe she’d even set down her whole ‘I have a complicated life’ bullshit and give him some reward.

Rewards like that could make a hero of any man.

Wait, no. Not a hero. Fuck being a hero. This shit was just self-preservation. If she died, her promises to end The Forged would be over, and while he didn’t quite believe she could follow through on that, it was better than nothing.

Rampart found a small cliff overlooking the space behind the slog. He scaled it, the brush on top enough to hide him and give him cover. From that vantage point, he should be able to pick them off as they neared The Slog. With any luck at all, he’d get the entire fucking group before they got near enough to cause a problem.

A quick flare to signal all was clear, then he could brave a pissed off Imp.

And fuck, she’d be pissed. Any woman would be when you handcuff ‘em and leave ‘em behind.

Across the distance, through the trees, movement showed the first of the group.

Rampart set up his sniper rifle, lying flat on the rocks for stability. He peered down the scope to spot them, moonlight making it easy, especially with the glowing tips of their flamers.

Eight? A large party for Forged away from their base. They had to know about him, had to have decided it was worth it to track him down. Forged wasn’t known for great planning, and Slag had a temper worse than most. He probably heard back from that first runner about the asshole with the burns on his face. Maybe Slag was on a bender, balls deep in psycho, and had figured Rampart had run out his pardon.

Slag held a hell of a grudge.

Still, none of the raiders Rampart recognized. They had a lot of turn over since they fed so many to the forge, since they weren’t shy about kicking ‘em out. New blood to stoke the flames, they’d say.

Good. New folks meant they wouldn’t know what they were up against.

He took a deep breath before releasing it and pulling the trigger in an easy slide. That’s when all hell broke loose.

Forged weren’t great thinkers. They darted around, just a mess of impotent fury. It allowed Rampart to down them one at a time, to pick ‘em off as they scattered. He focused on those who rushed toward the Slog housing, knocking ‘em down like bottles on a ledge when training.

While he was fully capable of close combat, he didn’t care for it. He preferred to sit back, to take shots from a distance. It pleased some part of himself, the hunt, the skill. Any asshole could sling a sledge around, could aim a fucking flamer. Sneak took skill, but being his size, that wasn’t something he excelled at.

A bullet ricocheted off the rocks to his left, his cheek stinging as a shard struck it.

Fuck. Meant someone found him.

He rolled to the side, using a tree to offer a little more cover. It offered less view, but a bullet in him would make that even harder.

Rampart used the scope to find the person pinning him down. Seemed like three were still up, all behind cover about thirty feet away. None offered a good shot.

Worse? They seemed to work well together, which was fucking weird. Forged didn’t work in groups. Still, someone had taught ‘em. The one with the assault rifle would open fire, forcing him to lower to avoid getting hit while the others worked to flank him.

He’d return the offer, leveling a shot near his cover, but he couldn’t do anything about the others. They followed trees and natural cover and would flank him in no time.

Fuck.

Okay. He needed to put down the asshole with the rifle, then he could shift focus and deal with the other three, right?

Right.

Rampart rolled once more and reset, then watched for his opening. The man popped around the cover, rifle lifted, and Rampart squeezed the trigger instead of taking cover.

Not fast enough. Pain shot through his shoulder, but the asshole dropped.

“Hands up, fucker.” So, seemed the assholes had moved fast.

Rampart lifted his hands despite the pain in his shoulder. He rolled, hands raised to show no weapon, until he sat on his ass and could face them. “So, Slag send you?”

“Course he did. We don’t chase down many people, but every once in a while there’s a prize worth it.” The same man who’d spoken the first time held a pistol out, leveled at Rampart. It was just a damned kid, early twenties at best.

Slag liked to get his claws into ‘em young.

Fuck, to think some kid was going to end him pissed him off. Still, he doubted the three left would be enough to get past the turrets. Meant he’d taken out enough of them to help.

Rampart tried to reach for his pistol. Least he could do was take out another before they killed him. Tit for tat.

“Don’t you even think about it, asshole.” The man jerked the pistol forward in warning. “You already got one nice burn there, don’t think you want another, do you?” He crouched down in front of Rampart. “Now, this is gonna be nice and easy, ain’t it? I’m gonna ask you some questions, you’re gonna answer ‘em. Easy, see?”

“And afterward, you’ll kill me?”

The man’s grin showed teeth rotted from chems. “Course. You ain’t an idiot, you know how this goes. What I can promise you is a quick death if you answer my questions. Don’t know how you got that burn, but I’m sure you don’t want any fucking more of ‘em, right? I’ve seen burns like that before, that’s a hell of a pain. Bet you’d do about anything to keep that from happening again, right?”

He didn’t know how Rampart had gotten it? What the fuck did that mean?

Rampart went to ask, but a flash of blue in the darkness silenced him.

A blade appeared, sliding across one raiders throat. He dropped, eyes wide, but the figure didn’t even slow. They shifted around and drove that same blade through the other raiders chest and into his heart. The blade found the space between the ribs with such practiced efficiency, only a real killer would have managed it.

They twisted, and Rampart sucked in a breath.

Nora.

The last raider, the one crouched in front of him, moved just as fast. He leapt behind Rampart and pressed that pistol against Rampart’s temple.

Nora’s lips tipped into a grin. “Let him go, and you can walk. That’s an offer I only give once.”

“Make a fucking move, and I’ll spray his brains all over this rock.”

Nora shrugged as she dragged the blade against her thigh, the blue fabric turning red. Rampart focused on the gruesome sight of her cleaning the blood off, the way it dripped down her leg.

He watched it so closely, he jerked back when she moved. Her other hand pulled a pistol from her other side, lifted it in a smooth motion, and fired a single shot into the raider’s forehead.

“Fucking hell, Imp!” Rampart leapt to his feet, his ears ringing from the close call. “You could have hit me.”

“I was like four feet away. I wasn’t going to hit you.”

He walked up on her, reaching out to wrap his fingers in her hair. “You were supposed to stay put.”

“I guess I never mentioned I could pick locks.”

“You also like to lie to me, huh? Because no fucking trader can sneak like that, can handle a blade like that.” He yanked her against him, the idea of her being out there making his heart speed.

Fuck, he could have hit her without meaning to. Last thing a sniper wanted was to not realize a friendly was on the field.

And how the hell had she learned that shit? He wasn’t kidding, that was some professional level skill. He’d expected some girl who’d hesitate before she pulled the trigger. The fuck was she?

"Next time I tell you to stay put, stay fucking put.” He silenced her by leaning down and taking her lips in a harsh kiss.

A loud clatter said she’d dropped the knife. Good, he didn’t really want to be castrated if she didn’t like his kiss. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and returned the kiss.

There it was, that passion he’d been looking for, that desperate need. He tried to set his other hand on her lower back, but the movement reminded him of his shoulder. A harsh groan escaped his lips.

She pulled back, her gaze moving to his shoulder. “You know, if you hadn’t made me pick some handcuffs, you wouldn’t have gotten shot.”

“I always say doing the right thing fucks you over, don’t I?”

Nora released a soft laugh before reaching out. Was she reaching for his dick? He couldn’t help it as his cock perked up, but no such luck. Instead, she grabbed the flare gun tucked into his belt, lifted it, and fired. “Alright, let’s go make sure everyone is fine.”

Rampart leaned over and picked up his rifle with his good arm. “Sure, Imp. Hate to think one of ‘em tripped and scraped a knee. Besides, after you check on the strays, maybe I can keep your attention a little longer.”

“I told you-”

“-yeah yeah, you got a complicated life. After watching that bullshit, I’m starting to believe it. Still, what I want? Ain’t that complicated.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Not really, no.” His gaze traced over her form in that fucking suit, and even the blood at her thigh from the knife turned him on. “In fact, don’t matter whatever else is going on, what I want? Simplest thing you’ll do all fucking day.”

“You sure think highly of yourself.” She tucked the flare gun into the belt around her waist.

“Life is complicated. Sex? Simple. You think I can’t feel it when you kissed me? When my lips were at your throat? You think I can’t see those looks? Then whatever shit is in your head rattles loose, and you start second guessing it. What nonsense is it that’s got you all twisted?”

She lifted a hand, fingers offering a light stroke near the wound in his shoulder. “Sex never stays simple. Seems like fun at first, but it never stays fun.”

He caught her chin so she’d look at him in the eyes. “Can’t promise things will keep being fun, but I can promise that you won’t think about any complicated shit while you’re with me. Once we’re done? Well, no matter how good a fuck is, life starts back up eventually, but that’s why some fun now and then matter.”

Her tongue traced her lips, her gaze dropping to his for a moment. “You don’t understand.”

He took a step away, releasing her. “Ain’t gonna push you. You know where to find me, Imp. Go rescue your strays, huh? I set up in the shack near the back, don’t care for sleeping close to folks. You want to stop thinking for a bit? Come see me.”

He stayed behind to loot the bodies and pull ‘em back further. Mutts would take care of the corpses, so burying wasn’t needed, but at least he could pick up anything useful, first.

Nora headed back to the Slog, and all Rampart could hope was that she’d take him up on his offer.

#

Nora held the items in her hands as she sat on the edge of the pool. They’d been back for over an hour, with the settlers back in their beds. They’d set up extra patrols and ensured things remained packed.

She doubted The Forged would try anything again so soon, but she wasn’t someone to be unprepared.

“I would have thought after a win like that, you’d look happier.” Wiseman groaned softly as he sat on the edge beside her.

Nora started down at the small items in her hands, frowning.

He took her hands in his so he could see what they were. A soft sigh said he recognized them. “So you’re just not enjoying the tarberries out here, are you?”

Nora pulled the rings and dog tags back to her lap. “I miss them both. Nate, he would have loved this place. He always wanted to learn to grow things, to someday quit the military and get some land. He would have taken one look at the way you grew tarberries and bent your ear for hours on it.”

Wiseman laughed softly, his elbows resting on his knees. “I wish I could have met him.”

“Danse hated it here.”

“Yeah, he did, but he loved that you loved it. He’d watch you light up, and he’d smile, and that wasn’t a man who smiled much.” Wiseman bumped her shoulder with his. “Rampart looks at you that way, too.”

“We’re not talking about Rampart.”

“Aren’t we? Because I’ve seen you bring a lot of people by, Nora, so I know how you are with your friends. I also know how awkward, uncomfortable, and a bit embarrassing you get when you like someone. I still remember the way you tripped over your feet and fell in the tarberries when you tried to show Danse around the first time.”

Nora laughed even as her chest hurt. Thinking about Danse still stung, still made her feel like she couldn’t take in breaths. She’d never told anyone what happened to Danse, hadn’t needed to. She’d just come back one day with his dog tags, and people had gotten the message.

The wasteland was an unforgivable place and losing people wasn’t uncommon.

“I miss him, and I don’t think I can do that again. I can’t do it a third time; I can’t lose someone again.”

“Do you know what I started this place? Because of my husband. Don’t look at me like that, even I found a spouse at one point. We were living in a little farm near the southern border. The radiation didn’t bother us, so we figured it was a good place. Grew tarberries, sold them to those going north. One day, a few bigots showed up, and they killed him while I was trading. I spent five years hunkered down in that farm, refusing to go anywhere, to see anyone. It just hurt too much. Then I realized that he would have kicked my ass if he’d been alive to see it. That wasn’t me, it wasn’t us, and it wasn’t honoring him. He’d have hated what I did, so I stopped. I realized that I still had life, I still could do something. Moved up this way, set up the Slog so other ghoul had a place to go, a safe place,a  home they could call their own. Teddy would have liked that, I think. He’d have been proud of me.” Wiseman let his knee bump hers. “So, the question you’ve got to ask yourself is, would Nate or Danse want you to be afraid? Alone? Too scared to really live?”

Nora strung the dog tags and rings around her neck on the string. “No, they wouldn’t, but they were both braver than me.”

She looked up toward the stars and knew what she had to do.

#

Rampart squinted as he left the shack. Nora hadn’t shown up, leaving him alone all fucking night. Not that it shocked him. Girl played her own game of tug-a-war with herself. Wasn’t like he expected she’d show up and they’d fuck, but he had thought she’d at least come by.

Maybe with some bullshit excuse, like needed to check on him, or talking about defenses, or something.

But no, she never came by. That was fine, there was time. He wasn’t kidding that he wouldn’t push her, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t planning on wearing her down. That kiss was a fucking drop compared to what he wanted.

And, yeah, so there wasn’t a future, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the present. They had a walk ahead of them, still had whatever planning needed to be done, and he sure as fuck would be there when they hit the forged, and he’d finally started to suspect she’d actually manage that shit, too.

But, even with all that, he wasn’t dumb. A girl like her could have anyone, so why would she settle down with the likes of him?

Outside, Wiseman stood beside the pool, hand shielding his eyes from the sun. He took one look at Rampart before pressing his lips together.

What the fuck was that about?

“Where’s Nora?”

Wiseman lowered his hand and stuck them in his pockets. “Left.”

Rampart’s back went straight. “The fuck you mean she left?”

“Took off in the middle of the night.” Wiseman shrugged, but he wouldn’t meet Rampart’s gaze.

And Rampart wasn’t one too worried about causing a scene. He moved forward so he was chest to chest with the ghoul. “Why’d she run off? She didn’t say shit to me.”

“Yeah, I’m going to guess that’s why she ran off.” Wiseman sighed, then finally looked Rampart in the eye. “I’m going to be straight with you, but only because I think Nora has always been her worst enemy. She bolted for Goodneighbor, figured she was healed enough to make the trip alone.”

“Even if she wanted to go, why not tell me? Why run out while I was asleep?” Rampart couldn’t help the anger that ran through him at the idea she’d just up and ran off like that, like he was something she could just leave behind. Forget the fact she owed him caps, forget the fact she owed him a lot of shit, how could she have not even said goodbye? They weren't soulmates or shit like that, but didn't he deserve at least a fucking word?

“Nora doesn’t go into fights she doesn’t think she can win. She’ll face down a yao guai without blinking, but get under that skin a bit, and she’ll bolt like a baby radstag.” He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “I’m not going to pretend to know exactly what’s going on with you two, and I’m not going to tell you anything that is her place to tell you, but I’m gonna say, that girl deserves something good in her life. She’s lost a lot, a lot more than most people could survive, and that leaves some scars.”

“So, what? I’m supposed to just chase her down? Follow on her heels like a lapdog?”

Wiseman wiped his forehead with his arm. “I can’t tell you what you’re supposed to do. I just know that if I had the chance with someone, a real chance, I don’t think a little bit of chasing would scare me off. Out here things like that are too rare to let slip away.”

Rampart thought about the smile she’d flashed him, the way she’d leaned into him, the way she’d saved him.

Yeah, he’d find her, but then she’d have a lot of fucking explaining to do.

Chapter Text

Nora rested on the couch in the VIP room, her head in Hancock’s lap. He stroked his fingers through her hair while he nursed his bottle of whiskey.

He’d taken her in like he always did. That was the thing, while Nick always wanted to understand what was wrong, Hancock never did. He’d just offer an arm, an ear, and anything else she wanted. Not that she wanted anything else from him. No, she and Hancock had no chemistry.

Unlike Rampart.

She couldn’t shake the guilt about leaving him. After everything he’d risked, had she actually just left in the middle of the night like a coward? She’d sent the caps already since she’d never welch on a debt. At least this way, he’d never want to see her again. That made it all a little easier.

“Ah, sunshine, you’re having a hell of a bad day, ain’t you?” Hancock’s rough fingers worked over her temple.

“How do you know? How do you know when a risk is worth it to take?”

“Wrong person to ask. You know damned well I take all the fun risks. Life is short and I ain’t about to regret missing shit just because of a little risk.”

“Sure, that sounds great, until you actually lose, until you actually have to pay that price.”

“You ain’t one to lose, sister.”

“Oh, I’ve lost plenty.”

“You’re such an asshole. You know your biggest problem?”

Nora tossed a half-hearted glare his way. “That I have mean friends like you?”

“It’s that you try to quit the game too soon. Why did you win against the Institute? Even after they kept scoring win after win, why did you come out alive and they ended up a crater? Because you never gave up. Because you’re like a mutt with a bone and you don’t let shit go when it’s important to you. When RJ’s kid was sick, you didn’t throw your hands up; you found the cure. When the railroad figured you for a traitor and planned to kill you, you didn’t just lie down for ‘em, you made ‘em listen. You don’t give in to anything else, so why do are such a coward when it comes to your own life?”

Nora sat up and scooted back. Hancock had never spoken to her like that before. He could be blunt, but his easy charm meant she rarely heard him unload. “Excuse me?”

“I ain’t said anything because I figured, fuck, you’ve had a bad go at it. First your husband, your son, Danse. I get it, I do, but after Danse you just threw in the towel. It’s like you decided it wasn’t worth it to let people in anymore. Hell, you don’t even travel with anyone anymore. You don’t take anyone with you, you stop into town for short, cheap visits, then you’re back out there on your own. Shit happens to all of us, but living the way you are? All you’re doing is burying yourself alive, sister, and it’s beneath you.”

Nora’s shoulders pulled back at the harsh words, at the way they rang true. Still, she couldn’t admit it, not with the tears in her eyes that threatened to fall. “Goodnight, John,” she whispered before turning around.

“Fuck. Wait, sunshine.” He was on his feet in a heartbeat, ready to apologize, no doubt. He grabbed her arm. “Just fucking wait a minute there.”

“No. Tomorrow I’m having a meeting to deal with the Forged. It’s late.”

Hancock pressed his lips together before shaking his head and letting her go. “I just want the best for you, Nora. You know that. You got a lot of friends, a lot of people who care about you, who don’t want to see you dead. Just don’t know how to help, how to make you care about shit.”

But. . . she had cared. When Rampart had kissed her, when she’d seen that raider with a gun to his head, she’d cared. That had, at the end of it, been the reason she’d run.

“Knowing what you should do and being brave enough to do it are two different things.”

“Bravery ain’t something you’ve ever been short on. You remember when we got high and decided to jump off the Prydwen? And Elder Asswipe was so pissed because we broke the fucking hydraulics in the power armor? We were standing on the railing, and I didn’t want to. Ain’t enough buffout in the Commonwealth to make me jump off that. Remember what you told me?”

“I told you it was easy. All you had to do was take one step, and gravity would handle the rest.”

“That’s right sister. It’s true of jumping off the fucking Prydwen, and it’s true about life. One step, that’s all it ever takes.”

The question was, could she ever really bring herself to take that step?

#

Rampart had to keep himself from tossing Nora over his shoulder and walking her to the Rexford the moment he saw her.

She’d changed out of the vault suit-a good thing for his concentration- and wore a pair of jeans and a button-up flannel, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. She moved easily through the Goodneighbor streets, telling him her burns had finished healing. She carried a cup of something, heat rising from the top as she sipped it.

His shoulder was still sore, but the stimpack had made it useable. Two days to make the journey said they’d both had some time to think.

For him, that time had been spent thinking of all the ways he’d make it clear he didn’t appreciate being left behind like baggage. Fuck that.

A brotherhood soldier in full power armor turned toward her, leading Rampart to set his hand on his weapon.

She showed no sign of concern, though. She turned her face toward the man, smiled, and said something.

The fuck?

Rampart came closer, her attention on the soldier, so she paid none to him.

“Tell him I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” the man said before leaving.

“Ma’am is a lot nicer than what I’m thinking about calling you, Imp.”

She turned toward him, gaze dropping. Feeling guilty? Good. “Hey, Rampart.”

“Don’t you ‘hey’ me. You ran out like a fucking coward on me, which is pretty funny since that’s what you keep calling me.”

She sighed, fingers rubbing against her cup. “I know. Look, I’ve got a meeting to get to about The Forged issue. Come with me, give us an idea of what we’re facing, and afterward, we’ll talk, okay?”

He didn’t care about the Forged right then. Fuck ‘em. They’d taken too much of his life already. Right then he wanted to talk to her, to get her to crack open that fucking head and spill her secrets, but he supposed it would have to wait. “Sure. After.”

Nora nodded toward the Statehouse. “Come on. We’ve got the bottom floor for the meeting.” She walked slowly, and he got the sense she didn’t really want to go where ever it was they were going. “You know, I had the caps sent out for you already. I wasn’t going to cheat you.”

“Don’t give a fuck about caps.”

Before they could say anything else, Hancock interrupted them. He leaned against the building in his stupid fucking get-up. Rampart knew of him, but they’d never talked.

“That’s a lot of fucking coffee, sunshine. Nursing a hangover?”

She took another sip. “What can I say? I’m not as young as you are, John.”

John? Rampart’s back straightened. Every piece of information he got about Nora had him more confused. Hancock wasn’t the sort of man he’d expect Nora to know.

“And what about you? Hiding out here? It’s earlier than you normally wake up.”

“You got any idea the fucking noise brotherhood clacking is when they walk around my Statehouse? Couldn’t sleep even if I trusted those tin cans you call friends.”

“Don’t start in with me again. They’re useful, and you know it.”

Hancock shifted his gaze from Nora to Rampart. “And who is this? I know most people you haul around, but he’s new. Picking up new strays?”

Rampart nodded, not one to let others speak for him. “Rampart.”

“Well fuck, sister, if I knew you were into the whole burn thing, I woulda’ tried something. I mean, if that’s your type, I got you covered.”

Rampart might have punched the asshole if Hancock didn’t have a grin across his fucking face and if Nora hadn’t huffed a soft laugh.

“If you tried something, we both would have had to drink this town dry to forget it.”

“True enough, sister, true enough. Alright, go have your meeting and get those assholes outta my place, yeah?”

She offered a salute before sliding past him and into the Statehouse.

Rampart leaned in and kept his voice low. “You have some friends in high places, Imp.”   

“John is about the lowest place there is, especially compared to who else we’re dealing with today.”

A man in a heavy brown coat walked through the doorway. “You’re late, Sentinel.”

“I know, Arthur. Is Preston here?”

The man nodded. “We were just waiting on you.” He dropped his gaze back to Rampart, eyebrow cocked. “And whoever this is.”

“We’ll be in in a moment.”

Arthur left them.

“Sentinel?”

Nora rubbed her fingers against her eyes. “Long story. Like I said, after. Let’s just get this over with.”

Chapter Text

Nora walked in with Rampart following her. He’d let her end the conversation, which she’d appreciated since she didn’t feel like recounting her history right there, not with a room full of people waiting on her.

Not with Arthur.

She and Arthur had never really resolved things after Danse’s death. He knew damned well she blamed him for it, had never made any attempt to dissuade her from that anger.

Arthur had decided Danse needed to die and Danse, being the man he’d been, had given Arthur exactly what he’d wanted. Nora had just been along for the ride, a witness to Arthur and his ego.

She and Arthur needed each other, but it didn’t mean they could stand one another.

Nora took a deep breath before she sat in the chair at the head of the table, Rampart taking an empty one to her left, beside Preston. A few looked his way, but when Nora didn’t say anything, they let it go.

If there was one thing she was known for, it was collecting many odd friends. After Gage, after Strong, she couldn’t imagine Rampart to prove any stranger.

“I’m not going to play around here. We’ve got a problem.” She tapped on the map spread open across the table. “The Forged work out of this factory. They used to keep to themselves, but they’ve started spreading further. They killed the settlers here, I’ve had word of attacks here and here, and they even took a shot at The Slog. They’ve gotten bold, and we need to deal with them.”

“One small band of raiders isn’t a problem.” Arthur sat in his seat, leaned back as if the entire conversation were beneath him.

However, to him, it was. He’d stayed in the Commonwealth because he felt he owned a part of it, but he cared little for actually making the lives of the residents better.

“They’re killing people, Arthur, and that makes them a problem. This is Rampart, and he can help us plan the best attack.”

Arthur gave the same dismissive look to Rampart that he offered to anyone he deemed beneath him, which had proved to be basically everyone.

Thankfully, Preston cut in. “What do you need, General?”

“I’ve already set The Slog up to take the injured. The issue is, they use mostly flamers. That means the risk of injury is high, and they’re injuries we aren’t used to, aren’t prepared for. We’ll need to plan this well, draw out as many as we can. We’ll keep vertibirds and snipers set up near the west to keep them out of the way for artillery strikes. I want to deal with as many as we can from a distance before we go in.”

The conversation went from there, each side pitching in ideas until a full battle plan had been created. As much as the parties liked to argue, liked to posture, she’d learned how to work them all. Preston had to be told about the risk to human life, and Arthur needed his ego stroked, to be told that the people of the Commonwealth would appreciate it.

By the end, Nora’s head hurt, but they had a plan and a timeline.

Rampart chimed in with advice, though he was quick to admit his knowledge was years old. Still, he knew how they thought, knew the leader, knew the overall set up of the factory.

Preston was the first to leave. They hugged before he took off, needing to get back to Sanctuary to set the plan into motion. Others filtered out until only Arthur, Nora, and Rampart remained.

“It’s been a while.” Arthur ignored Rampart, a purposeful move she’d grown used to. Arthur had always been all about his games, all about proving himself.

Her first answer was ‘not long enough,’ but Nora needed Arthur’s help. It was why she’d put up with him for so long, because he served a purpose. “I’ve been busy,” she settled for.

Arthur shifted his gaze from her to Rampart. “I see.”

“Careful.”

As much as she’d let Arthur parade his ego down the streets like a favored pet, the idea of him saying anything to Rampart had her shoulders pulling back. But, that had always been her, hadn’t it? No matter what happened to her, it was others she stood up for.

Arthur’s eyes narrowed, the same way they did whenever she challenged him. At least with just the three of them in the room, he didn’t have to carry his name for anyone else. “You’ve never had good sense, Nora. You let your feelings get in the way and end up in over your head.”

“And you like to complain about my methods, but you’re happy as hell when I come through for you. I hand you the Institute, I take work out peace with the railroad, I overthrow Nuka World, and you have nothing to say. Hell, you act like you’ve been behind me the whole time.”

“We were behind you, in case you failed to look back. It was my men who stormed the Institute with you. I sent the letters home for the bodies we could never recover.”

“You jumped in for the glory of it, to write your name across it, to make sure it didn’t happen without the Maxson legacy having a piece of the action, but you fought me every step of the way. You don’t get to stand here now and complain that I’m not more available.”

He shook his head, that arrogant face that only a twenty-year-old who thought he knew everything could pull off. “You’ve always thought too much of yourself. You’re here asking for help but putting down the very people you need.”

“You’re the only one who insults me, Arthur. Did you see Preston complaining? If I tell Mason we’re hitting a target, he doesn’t argue. You’re the only one who never listens, who cares more about your reputation and how people see you than getting things done.”

He stepped forward until they stood inches apart, the same fight they’d had since they’d met. “So, is this your newest mistake?” He nodded toward Rampart. “Judging from his face and what he said, he was one of those raiders you’ve decided to kill. Is that what this is? You are always trying to save people who don’t deserve to be saved. I’d have thought you’d learn your lesson after Danse.”

Nora’s hand swung before she could think about it. She didn’t slap him. No, that was the behavior of a scorned woman, of some hysterical female. She wasn’t any of those things. Nora nailed him in the jaw with a sucker punch. He stumbled backward, likely out of surprise. When was the last time anyone had laid a hand on the precious Maxson heir?

He rubbed his hand over his jaw. “I’ll let that one slide because of our history, but touch me again, and it won’t matter who you think you are.”

Nora pointed a finger at him, not willing to back down an inch, not willing to give him anything, not with his words still digging into wounds that would never heal. “You don’t deserve to even utter his name! If I ever hear you say anything about Danse again, I will leave pieces of you so far down every hole in this wasteland, they’ll never find you.”

“You call us allies, but you threaten me?” And there went his chest again, puffed out like an ape making noise.

An arm wrapped around Nora’s waist, and she wanted to fight against it. She wanted to throw it off and do exactly as she’d threatened. Even with the time that had passed, with the times they’d never approached the issue, the memory of Danse as he laid still on that concrete floor haunted her.

“Come on, Imp. You do much else to him, and you’re gonna turn this town into a war zone.” Rampart’s words soaked into her.

Right.

If she actually got into it with Arthur, the Brotherhood would have to attack her, which would leave the Minutemen against the Brotherhood, and Goodneighbor mostly fucking everyone else up. No, she didn’t need that sort of blood on her hands.

Nora nodded and allowed Rampart to guide her backward, but not before she leveled one more hard look at Arthur. “You never really hated Danse because he was a synth. You hated him because he was the man you could never be. He came from nothing, didn’t have your upbringing, your legacy, your name, and he still bested you at every turn. You had a chance to be more, but you’ll never be anything but a spoiled brat who thinks he’s more important than he is, will you?”

#

Rampart got Nora out of the Statehouse, past a laughing Hancock, and into the Rexford. She muttered a room number, and he fished the key from her pocket.

Every damn thing he’d learned fitted pieces of a puzzle that didn’t make any fucking sense. General of the Minutemen? Overboss of Nuka World? Sentinel of the Brotherhood? She’d destroyed the Institute?

While Rampart had been hiding and just trying to survive, that Imp had been shaping the wasteland? And the fuck was the story with Danse? Who was that?

“I hate him,” Nora snapped as she took off her belt and tossed it onto the dresser. It slid across and clattered to the floor.

“Yeah, you made that pretty clear.”

She turned, gaze hard like she was looking for a new target, and he looked just about right. “Now you’re funny?”

He shrugged, refusing to give her shit to play against. “Sometimes.”

She glared for a long moment before letting herself collapse into a chair near the corner. “Sorry you had to see that.”

“Hell of a show, Imp. Didn’t expect anyone could give a spanking to a grown man like that, especially one who needs to ride around in a fucking metal blimp.”

“Arthur and I have a complicated history.”

“You two fuck or is it just normal complicated?”

She sighed and leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “I’d cut off anything he got near me. No, it was never anything like that. We worked okay together at first. I mean, he hated how I did things, and I hated how he did things, but we managed. Then. . .” Her voice trailed off.

“Then Danse?”

She flinched like the name had a point which had dug into her. “Yeah. Then Danse. He was a Paladin, Arthur’s best man, his most loyal. He’s the one who recruited me, who taught me most of what I know. Well, he found out he was a synth, and Arthur ordered his execution. When I got there to make a plan, to figure something out, Danse killed himself. He had too much integrity to go on. Hell, I don’t think he knew what sort of life he could have without the Brotherhood.”

Rampart swallowed down the pain in her voice. That wasn’t the pain of someone losing a mentor. Nah, that shit ran deeper. Pretty fucking clear she’d loved the man. “I’m sorry,” he said, the words useless but obligatory.

Nora lifted her gaze but kept her body hunched over. “You see, that’s the thing. He’s not the first. My husband died before Danse. I’ve got a history of losing the people who matter to me.”

“Ain’t that uncommon, Imp. Don’t get me wrong, it ain’t fair, but it’s life out here.” He crouched down in front of her. “Is that what this bullshit you keep spouting at me is about? This whole ‘my life is complicated’ bit, it’s because of this?”

“I won’t bury someone else. I’ve done it twice now; I can’t do it again.”

“Seems to me, from what I’ve seen, you can do anything you fucking wanna do. If kid asshole in there couldn’t stop you, don’t know why you think anything else would.”

She finally looked him in the eyes. “And what do you want? You said you didn’t care about the caps, you’ve made it clear you’re not into helping people. I’ll deal with The Forged, just like I said I would, but what are you doing here?”

Rampart set his hands on her knees, squeezing tight like it might make the point she didn’t want to hear. “It ain’t fucking smart, but I like you, Imp. I’ve been on my own for a long time, and while shacking up with some professional do-gooder ain’t my normal style, well fuck, I don’t think I really care. I ain’t asking for forever, I’m just asking to see what this shit might be.”

“Can you promise me nothing will happen to you?”

“No. No one can make that promise. Just ain’t the world we live in. All I can tell you is that I’m pretty fucking hard to kill, and I got no plans on that changing.”

“And that’s supposed to be enough? I’m supposed to risk going through all that pain again and for what?”

It was fucking now or never. If he didn’t get her out of her own head then, she’d end this before they ever even got to try it. He’d gotten used to her already, gotten used to her sense of humor, to her biting wit, to the way she constantly surprised him.

“For this,” he said before he pulled her closer and took her lips in a kiss.

Chapter Text

Rampart wanted her to taste the passion he knew was there, for her to drown in it with him after they’d avoided it for so damned long.

She must have been as desperate as he was because she returned the kiss with just as much fervor. Her hands went to his shoulders and pulled him closer. She kept pulling until he crawled onto the bed over her.

His hand slipped up her stomach, still avoiding the place he knew she’d been burned. Not that she seemed to care. She leaned into the touch, arching into it.

He kept going and cupped her breast like he’d wanted to do for days. Her nipple pebbled against his palm, the thin fabric of her bra between them. He kneaded her breast and stroked his thumb over the nipple.

A soft whimper tumbled from her lips as her fingers worked at the hem of his shirt, pulling it.

Still, he refused to let go of her so she could get it off. He was pleasing himself too much with her body, had waited too long to just give it up.

He pulled the cup of her bra out of the way so he could touch her directly. Her skin was soft and warm against his hand, and he couldn’t wait anymore. He removed his hand and flicked open the top button of her shirt so he could lean down and drag his tongue over her nipple.

She gasped, her fingers letting go of his shirt to dig into his waist.

Rampart forced himself to pull back, to look at up her face. “That okay, Imp? Ain’t moving too fast?”

Her face softened, that glimpse of someone without such hard edges. She smiled. “Yeah, I’m good. Though, I’d like to get you a bit more naked. You’ve already seen me in next to nothing, but I haven’t gotten the same.”

Rampart chuckled before he leaned up. “Well, it can’t be any worse than what’s visible, huh?" The joke came off flat as he pulled his shirt over his head.

He’d accepted his face. He’d accepted the disaster the Forged had made of him, the way people pulled away, reject him. Still, when beside Nora, he struggled with the idea of her seeing him differently.

She hadn’t acted like it bothered her, not after first seeing it. She hadn’t pulled away since then, hadn’t stared at his scar, but he didn’t want to see that on her face.

He tossed the shirt to the floor, then reached for Nora’s shirt.

She grasped his hands and pulled him down again. Her hand went to the side of his face, her palm coming to rest on the mess of flesh that had him flinching. Just the idea of her touching his brand made him want to knock her hand away, to walk the fuck out.

“I don’t care about this,” she said, thumb stroking against the mangled skin.

“It’s a fucking mess.”

“The whole world is a fucking mess, in case you didn't notice.”

“Yeah, but you ain’t fucking the whole world, Imp. I don’t care what the whole fucking world thinks, I care what you think.”

“If you care what I think, why don’t you listen to me when I say I don’t care.”

“How can you not? Your friends sure pointed that shit out fast enough. Always gonna be like that, always gonna have people staring, people saying shit. We ain’t never gonna look right together because you’re fucking perfect, and I look like a ghoul’s ass.”

She brushed her lips across his, fingers still stroking his brand, and fuck him because he found himself eased by it despite his best effort. “Well, to be fair, one of those men is an asshole, and the other has ghoul’s ass, so they aren’t the best examples. I’m not perfect, Rampart. I may not wear it on my skin, but I’m a mess. I’m short-tempered, I can be impulsive, I trust people too easily. I don’t care about this.” She moved her hand enough to press a kiss to the center of the brand.

He shuddered at the affection. For a man who didn’t have much gentleness in his life, one who didn’t want it, he sure did soak it up.

Nora pressed his shoulder, forcing him to roll to his back. She straddled him, then leaned down to offer more praise to his burn.

She didn’t stop there, though. She moved over his cheek, his jaw, his throat. When she reached the end of the brand, she kept going.

Her lips found the small burn on his shoulder, the one on his bicep. She lavished attention to each mark like they mattered.

And fuck him, because he arched into each press of her lips.

Her hands slid around his chest, fingers tracing his pectorals, then down over his ribs, the muscles of his stomach. Her fingers didn't curve in, didn’t drag her nails over his skin. No, she didn’t use any roughness, no bite of pain. When was the last time he’d had sex where it wasn’t just a rush to get off? Where it wasn’t all biting and a struggle for the upper hand?

Nora didn’t do any of that. She worked down his body, worshipping each burn and scar on his skin. She used her lips, her tongue, her hands. It reached down inside him to some part of him he hadn’t even realized was wanting something like this.

Not that it didn’t get other parts interested, too.

As her fingers undid the button on his jeans, her gaze lifting to meet his, a smile on her lips, he knew he was lost.

That Imp had him by the balls in more ways than one.

#

Nora tried not to look nervous. It’d been a while since she’d tried this. Not since Danse, and before him, Nate. She’d never been one for casual sex, and both of them had been after long courtships.

So stripping Rampart out of his jeans was stepping into new territory.

Still, she wanted to. She’d wanted to explore each inch of his body, to see each of his scars, the pains that had turned him into who he was. The more she saw, the more she wanted. She wanted to understand him, she wanted to touch him, she wanted to taste him.

He watched her, face a mixture of the same nerves and awe she had.

She worked his pants off, a soft laugh as she struggled with his boots until she could strip him fully. Still, that moment of humor with him helped her relax.

Nora turned back to him after setting his items on the floor to find him spread out for her, her body resting between his knees. His body was far larger than hers, yet he seemed to give himself over to her, to anything she wanted.

Could she do this? Could she move on? Could she put herself back on the line after knowing how she’d fallen off it before?

He bumped her with his leg, drawing her back to the moment, back to the room where only the two of them sat. “We ain’t gotta do shit, Imp. Don’t gotta look so worried.”

Nora stroked her hands over his thighs. “I want to.”

“Well, you’re face to face with the only part of me burn free.” He made the joke, but it lacked the self-hatred he’d had earlier. Maybe she’d gotten through to him, at least a little.

It let her focus her attention on him as she ran her hands up his thighs until her hands bracketed his groin. It left her a breath from his cock.

And while much of her attention thus far had been focused on soothing his worries, some of that pushed away as she stared at him.

She’d always been someone who enjoyed sex. While she didn’t jump into bed with just anyone, she had loved to lose herself in the body of another. She loved the give and take, the closeness, the security she felt with someone. Staring at Rampart’s cock, the veins on it, the way it twitched as she brushed her thumbs against the base, it had her remembering exactly how much she’d missed this.

Nora dragged her fingers over his cock in a tease before wrapping her hand around him.

“Fuck.” His hips raised up into her fist, a desperate thrust.

She smiled, stroking him in long and slow motions, pausing at the top to twist around the head. A bead of pre-come sat at the slit, so Nora gave into her own wants.

She leaned in and licked across the head of his cock, collecting the salty drop. Her eyes slid closed as she gave herself over to the feeling, as she ignored everything else except his taste, except the sounds he made.

She took him past her lips, into the heat of her mouth. Her tongue rubbed against the bottom of his cock, her hand working the base.

His hand went to the back of her head, but he only gathered her hair so it didn't hang in her face. He didn’t force her down, didn’t alter her speed or depth. He let her do as she pleased, though his hips lifted in tiny, almost-there thrusts.

She didn’t take him deep, instead working the head of his cock with her lips, her tongue. The scent of him filled her lungs, her motions familiar and welcome. She’d been too fast to throw away this part of her, to give this up.

He gave himself over to her, let her take control. Her gaze would dart up to find him staring at her, the light casting shadows over the scarring on his face, lust swimming in his eyes.

Nora sped her hand as she added more suction. The subtle rocking of his hips increased, and she used her hand to ensure she didn’t take him too deep.

“Your mouth feels so fucking good, Imp.” His words were harsh in the small room but had her moaning around his cock. Neither Danse nor Nate had spoken like that, both polite to a fault, but Nora grew wet from the filthy words, from Rampart’s no fucks given attitude.

Her fist bumped her lips as he thrust his hips up a moment before he came, spilling onto her tongue. She swallowed, tongue still stroking over him as he shuddered, his fingers tightening in her hair for a moment.

He groaned, cock softening against her tongue, but she refused to give in just yet. She sucked again, rewarded with a sharp hiss before he used his grip on her hair to pull her off with a gentle tug. “See? That’s why I call you Imp, because you’re fucking trouble.” He caught her around the arm and pulled her up to his lips.

He kissed her, his tongue dipping past her lips, not seeming to care she might still taste of him. His hand moved from her hair to the back of her neck as he deepened the kiss.

Nora slid her hand over his chest, taking in each hard line, tempted to taste them all again.

It seemed Rampart would have none of it, though. He flicked open the button at her waist, then dipped his fingers just past the line of her underwear.

Again, he hesitated. “It okay if I return that favor? Because I gotta say, I want to see you all breathless and moaning for me.”

She wasn’t ready for sex, but an orgasm at the mercy of Rampart sounded perfect. Nora nodded before retaking his lips.

He pushed his hand into her jeans, and she was grateful she’d worn a looser pair. He wouldn’t have a lot of maneuvering room, but she was halfway there already. Between the blow job and how long it had been for her, it wouldn’t take much to get off.

His long fingers brushed her clit first, the friction of the dry tips overwhelming. She grasped his shoulders with a soft cry, but he’d already moved his fingers further to her cunt.

He gathered wetness, lips moving to her jaw. “Knew you’d be wet for me. Next time, I’m getting my tongue on you, Imp. Gonna get you to scream for me. You don’t seem quite ready for that though, so we’ll make due with my fingers, won’t we?”

Nora nodded as he moved his now damp fingers to her clit. He rubbed them with sure strokes, not trying to fuck her, just pleasuring her.

Nora bathed in the sensation, in the way her hips rolled toward him, the way she ground against him. He hadn’t tried to roll her over, hadn’t taken anything she didn’t give, hadn’t tried to take control. It wasn’t him against her; it was just them.

His lips toyed with her earlobe, his breath warming her ear.

The warmth in her lower stomach, the tingle across her skin was so damned familiar. It was like a dance she knew, like steps that came back to her as she started. That tightening continued, her back arching, her head thrown back as she came.

He lightened his touch but didn’t stop until she’d come back down, until the orgasm had faded away and she rested her forehead on his chest.

He pulled his hand from her pants, his fingers leaving wetness from her on her lower stomach. He lifted the hand and cleaned his fingers with his tongue, his lips pulled into a smile that made her heart speed. “Oh yeah. Can’t wait to get between those thighs.”

Nora laughed before she rolled off him, exhausted from the day, from the worries about running from him, from her confrontation with Arthur, and from her orgasm.

He shifted down in the bed, then rolled to his side and tossed an arm over her.

Nora closed her eyes, and for a moment, she thought maybe it was worth the risk.

Chapter Text

Rampart ground his molars. The Imp had run again. He’d woken to find her gone and the bed empty.

He’d rolled over, hand searching across the mattress for Nora, wanting to tug her closer and get a few more hours. Fuck, staying in bed with a warm woman sounded like an excellent way to waste away the day.

But the bed had been empty, something that shouldn’t have shocked him but still did.

He’d rolled out of bed, pulled himself together, then headed out.

Was he gonna spend his whole fucking life chasing after her?

Outside the Rexford, he spotted Hancock hiding from the sun like he’d done the day before. Fucking junkie. 

The mayor waved him over. “Looking a bit frazzled. Imagine a night with Nora might do that to a boy.”

“Where did she go?”

“She’s an expert at running, ain’t she? Still gives us a minute. Come on in and have a chat, huh?”

“Ain’t got time for that bullshit.”

Hancock lifted his cigarette to his lips. “Well, I know where she went, so you can go wandering off and hope you stumble across her or you can come have a chat and get a location. Plus, asshole, as Mayor here, I can just have my boys drag your ass in if I want.”

Rampart set a hand on the pistol at his hip. “You could try, sure.”

Hancock dropped his gaze to the gun, the tension thick. At least, it was until he cracked a smile, then laughed. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for a good show of dominance. Come on, brother. Let’s talk, and then you can go track her ass down.”

Rampart didn’t see a better option, and he had to admit, he was curious what a friend of the Imp’s might say. He’d gotten so little from her, that the idea of picking someone else's brain, of hearing what might be under all that armor she wore, that was tempting.

He followed Hancock up the stairs and into an office with two large couches. The mayor nodded at one of them. “You a whiskey man?”

“It’s ten in the fucking morning.”

Hancock nodded, then reached onto another shelf and tossed him a bottle. “Right you are. That’s beer time.”

Rampart shook his head before he popped the cap off on the edge of his boot. “So where the fuck did she go?”

Hancock flopped down on the couch. “Talk first. See, that girl, she’s fucking important to me, yeah? So when you come tailing after here, I gotta wonder, just what you think you’re doing.”

“I don’t think I’m doing anything.”

“No? Cause she ain’t spent the night with anyone except that Paladin and that shit was slow as fuck. Makes me curious and more than a little nervous.”

Rampart took a drink of his beer as he studied the ghoul. “Nervous? What, you been waiting in line?”

“Nah. Ain’t never been a line for that girl. She doesn’t fall much, and when she does, it’s with her whole fucking heart. That ain’t my thing. Still, I ain’t above gutting anyone who fucks with her.”

They sat in silence for a minute while they drank, while Rampart considered the words. Yeah, he could see that about her. She wasn’t a one-night-stand sort of girl.

“I get that she’s gun-shy, but the fuck are you supposed to do with all the running?”

Hancock laughed, hand patting at his coat until he pulled out a tin of mentats. “Gunshy is an easy way to put it. Girl has walls the size of that Brotherhood robot around her. You’re the first one to crawl your ass under ‘em in a while. What are you in it for? Because if you’re looking for just a little fun before you run off? Well, that ain’t gonna sit well for me.”

“Only one of us keeps running off and it ain’t me.”

“True enough.” Hancock popped a mentat in his mouth, the chewing loud in the quiet room. “Look, I’ll put shit out there. Girl needs something in her life, needs someone. If that ain’t you, don’t go chasing her. If you ain’t that person, leave her be. She’s lost a fucking lot, and she not only deserves some stability for once, but she needs it.”

Rampart leaned forward to nail Hancock with a hard look. “I like her, okay? I like her, but she won’t just fucking stay still long enough to figure this shit out. I ain’t trying to hit it and quit it here, but if she ain't willing, I ain’t about to force her, either.”

Hancock said nothing right away, staring at him while he tapped his finger against the mentats. “Well, I love that girl, but I wouldn’t say she’s all that smart when it comes to her personal life. Still, you want a little insight?”

“When dealing with women, I think we men can use all the help we can get.”

“Ain’t that true, brother?” Hancock chuckled and slipped the mentats back into his pocket. “Nora thrives on touch. Girl needs it but with the world the way it is? Ain’t something she gets much of. She ain’t gonna ask for it, but I know her. Remind her exactly what it is missing.”

Rampart nodded, that making a lot of sense. He still didn’t care for Hancock threatening him, but something about the no-nonsense asshole had Rampart willing to forgive it. Not to mention, having someone who wasn’t trying to bed her looking out for her sounded good.

“So, where she’d run off to?”

Hancock opened his mouth but shouting from down the stairs had him grinning instead.

“John, have you seen Rampart?” The groaning of steps sounded before Nora came into view, two bowls in her hands. She stopped, gaze darting between them.

Her eyes narrowed, and Rampart got ready to explain until her gaze locked on Hancock. “I swear, John, if you’re causing problems.”

Hancock lifted his hands, though his grin never left. “I never cause problems, sunshine.”

Nora turned to Rampart. “What did he say? Did he tell you about the time I hid from a deathclaw in an outhouse? Because the part he leaves out is that he threw the first rock at it!”

Rampart huffed out a laugh at the flush on her cheeks. Embarrassed, was she? Still, it warmed him. Embarrassed said she cared what he thought, and given the two bowls of food, it seemed she hadn’t run out. She’d gone to get them breakfast.

“Didn’t say anything of the sort, sister. Was just having a nice heart-to-heart with your buddy here. You know the drill: break her heart, I’ll break your legs. That sort of shit.”

“Oh, you’re just playing the big brother, huh?”

“You know, sex is supposed to make people more relaxed.” He looked at Rampart. “You sure you’re doing it right?”

“Oh, that’s it-”

Rampart got to his feet, not wanting to wind up Nora anymore. As it turned out, she hadn’t run off, so he was thrilled with keeping things nice and calm.

“That breakfast, Imp?”

Nora let her eyes narrow to slits, not seeming willing to entirely let go of her petty bullshit with the ghoul. “Yeah. I thought you might be hungry. Daisy makes good oatmeal, but she doesn’t sell it to just anyone.”

Rampart set a hand on her lower back to test out Hancock's advice, his fingers sliding beneath the hem to touch her skin directly. “Sounds good, I am pretty hungry.”

She arched into the touch, her attention pulling from Hancock, her anger derailed.

So, it seemed Hancock was right. Girl was starving for physical contact, not that he was shocked. She’d soaked up every touch so far.

Well, he did enjoy a good weakness.

#

Nora set the bowls down on the table of the hotel room.

The moment of panic that had hit her when she’d found the room empty had stuck with her. She’d run from him, yet when she’d come back, when she’d brought food and found an empty room, she’d panicked.

The idea that he’d left her, that he’d been gone without a word had hit her hard. The night before had freaked her out, but she’d enjoyed it. She’d woken beside him, warm and comfortable, and she didn’t want to lose that.

So she felt like she’d finally given in only to find him gone.

“Smells good.” Rampart took his seat before picking up the spoon. “You sure know all the secrets here. I used to have to scare off this fucker at the gates who tried to sell insurance to people.”

Nora took a bite of her own food. “Finn. He was a piece of work, wasn't he? Hancock stabbed him the first time I came here when he was trying that with me.”

“Oh yeah? Guess he had a soft spot for you from the start.” He tapped a finger against the table. “I thought you’d run off again. Figured I’d have to track your ass down again.”

“And would you have? If I’d have run off, would you have follow me?”

“Stupid, but yeah, I would. I mean, I was gonna put you over my knee for pissing me off, but yeah, I’d have followed you.”

Nora tried to ignore the heat of her cheeks at the idea of that, at the reminder of how unlike Rampart was from Nate or Danse. Both of them had been good men to a fault, men willing to risk anything for what was right. Rampart wasn’t any of that, but maybe that was what was going to keep him alive in the end.

Maybe a man like Rampart wouldn’t get crushed beneath the world like Nate and Danse had. Maybe a man like that would be able to survive it. He wasn’t the type to put himself into danger, to take risks.

Maybe the Wasteland wouldn’t be able to steal him away.

“I thought you might have run off, too,” she admitted, voice low. “When Clair said you’d left, I’d thought maybe you’d gotten what you wanted last night.

“Really, Imp? You thought that was all I wanted?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time a guy found the chase more interesting than the person.”

“Yeah, but that implies the guy ever catches the girl. I really don’t think I’m ever gonna stop having to chase you. You ain’t the sort to let yourself get caught.”

“And you think you know about me now?”

“I think I’m learning.” He took another bite of his food. “So how does this shit work with the Brotherhood? Can you trust them? Didn’t seem too chummy.”

“We can trust them. They’ll do what they agreed to.”

“How’d you get roped in with them in the first place? Don’t seem the military type, and fuck knows that shit you pulled outside of The Slog wasn’t exactly Brotherhood methods.”

“When I got here, I needed allies. The Brotherhood was an obvious choice. As much as we may not see eye to eye, they had the numbers and the weaponry to take out the Institute without risk to the Minutemen.”

“So the enemy of my enemy is my friend?”

“Something like that. They aren’t perfect, but they’re useful.”

“And that sneaking bullshit? Where’d you learn that at?”

“Picked it up when I realized getting close wasn’t a great idea for me. Turns out I lack some of the bulk that makes for good close combat.” Her gaze drifted over the wide set of his shoulders. “Not that you have that issue.”

His eyebrow cocked up, the action pulling the scar. Funny that she’d stopped seeing it. She’d stopped noticing the ruined skin, started just seeing the man. “Nah, no ones ever accused me of being small. Not that I think you mind much, if last night was anything.”

She tried to ignore the flush to her cheeks at that, tried to pretend he didn’t get beneath her skin. He did, of course. His words reminded her of how his body had felt the night before. She pictured the way his muscles had shifted beneath her lips, the way his hips had lifted to press more of himself into her mouth. Worse? Her gaze locked on his fingers, on the way they grasped the spoon. Those fingers had pleased her the night before, then he’d slid them into his mouth and tasted her.

It had her thinking about how he’d look above her, his hands spreading her thighs wide, his lips pulling orgasm after orgasm from her while she trembled and begged.

“Fuck, Imp, I wish I could crawl into that head of yours because I’d kill to know what’s got you blushing and breathing hard like that.” His lips pulled into a smirk that would have made her knees weak if she’d been standing. “Course, bet I can make a guess.” He dragged his tongue across his lips in a blatant tease.

And Nora, the woman who never let people get the best of her, released the most embarrassing moan she’d ever heard.

Rampart was on his feet a heartbeat later as if the sound summoned him, like he had no control once he’d heard it.

He grasped her hips and lifted her, setting her ass on the table.

“Breakfast-”

He swiped his arm across the table, sending the items to the floor. “Fuck breakfast, Imp. Ain’t what I’m in the mood for tasting right now."  

Chapter Text

Rampart knew he should slow down. Nora wasn’t the sort of girl you fucked on a table. She was worth a lot more than that, but he couldn’t exactly get his body on board with anything slow.

Besides, he wasn’t fucking her, not yet. Judging from how she’d tensed against his fingers, she wasn’t even close to ready for that.

Which was fine by him. He didn’t mind taking his time. Some things were worth savoring, were worth enjoying. Sliding into her body would be one.

His fingers undid the tie at her waist, then pulled the pants off her. They slid over her bare feet, leaving her in nothing. The thought that she’d been wearing no underwear, that he could have slipped his hand into those pants at any time and have found her bare and wanting for him, it had him groaning before he dropped to his knees.

She frowned, her knees together.

He’d never understand the way women got all self-conscious. He wasn’t some virgin, but he’d never taken a look at what was between a girl’s legs and not gotten revved up. Still, Nora pressed those knees together like she wasn’t sure what his plan was.

He set his hands on her knees and planted a kiss there. “You know, Imp, I ain’t the sort of man to get on his knees for many people.”

The tension in her legs eased a hair at his words, like the joke relaxed her. He pressed another kiss to her other knee.

“What a shame. You look pretty good like that.” The playful turn of her lips into a grin made his chest tighten. Fuck, what was that? He’d bedded lots of girls, even liked a few of ‘em, but he’d never felt this sort of draw. He’d never had a fucking smile made him feel that way.

Instead of saying shit or admitting anything, because he damned well wasn’t ready for that, he shook it away and returned a smile. “Behave yourself, and you just might get to see it a lot more often. Hell, I think a pretty please would have me on ‘em anytime for you.”

She set her hands on his cheeks and leaned down to steal a kiss, and her legs parted at the same time.

Rampart’s hands slid up the insides of her thighs, the difference in size between them almost startling. Still, where he’d thought her weak and spoiled before, he now realized exactly how much strength she held inside that small body.

Crazy to think he’d been so wrong, that he could have misjudged her so bad. Fuck, what if he’d still been with the Forged? One look at her and he’d have figured her an easy target. She’d have handed his ass to him with a smile, and fuck it, he thought he’d have been only too happy about it.

Rampart pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh, the muscle there twitching beneath the touch. Nerves? Excitement? Probably a bit of both.

This shit was still new to them both, and she was as gunshy as a person got about the whole thing.

He followed the indent between the two muscles in the inside of her thigh up until he reached that crease where her leg met her crotch. He traced it with his tongue, rewarded by her spreading those thighs even wider.

The ground dug into his knees, but he didn’t give a shit. He’d have knelt on glass shards if that’s what it would take to get her taste, to swallow it down.

The first lick he offered had her hips lifting in an offer. Damn, he knew she’d give in. Girl could snarl with the best of them, but she gave in so nicely.

He used his thumbs to spread her open, to give him room as he memorized her folds with his tongue, his lips, his teeth. He took his time as he savored the taste and feel of her, as he drew her into his lungs. Her hands slid into his hair, fingers tight and demanding.

Before long she pressed him closer, so he focused his efforts on her clit. He pushed a finger into her, slow and testing. After the night before, he wasn’t sure just how far she’d want him to go.

Her body squeezed down on that finger, but fuck if she didn’t grind his face further against her.

Never a man who thought he’d like feeling used, he couldn't figure the pleasure at the way her hips lifted against him, trying to get him to fuck her with that finger more, to use his tongue more. It didn’t make him feel used but needed, and being needed by his Imp had his cock hard and aching, still in his pants and untouched.

“Rampart,” she moaned when he added a second finger, her legs sliding over his shoulders. It left her thighs pressed to his ears, trapped him there, and that was fine by him because there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

He crooked those fingers, searching until he found the spot that made her fingers jerk in his hair, bites of pain along his scalp telling him she liked it.

He rubbed there while his lips toyed with her clit, sucking it between his lips and rubbing with his tongue. Her thighs tightened more as she came, so tight he missed any sound she might have made. Did she moan his name?

She eased back, her hands going from a grip to a run through his hair in gentle strokes, like tiny acts of gratitude.

Rampart pressed another kiss to her cunt before clasping his hands to the tops of her thighs to lift himself up.

He slipped his hands over her cheeks and to the nape of her neck, then opened his mouth to say something.

Nora silenced him with a kiss, her lips brushing his for a moment before deepening the kiss, before swiping her tongue across his lips.  He let her do so, let her slip her tongue into his mouth, let her taste him, taste her.

Her hands pulled him closer until he rested between her spread thighs, until he had to lean down to keep the kiss. She worked free the button on his pants, and her kiss almost distracted him from it.

Almost.

Rampart caught her hands to still them, breaking the kiss and pressing his forehead to hers. “Maybe we ought to wait, Imp.” Saying it was fucking hard, but it would be worse to have her pissed because she’d rushed shit.

“I don’t want to wait.” She pulled back enough to press kisses to his burn.

“You’re sure? I don’t want to rush you, don’t need this right now.” Still, he leaned into the touch of her lips on his ruined skin, needing the way she offered affection to the parts of him he hated most.

“I’m sure.”

And. . . fuck. It wasn’t that she was wanting to have sex with him. Nah, that shit didn’t mean anything a lot of the time. It was that someone wanted him. Not just the back of a bar with some stranger, the lights low enough they couldn’t see his face. No, Nora knew him. She fucking knew the ugliness his life had been, she knew what he looked like, she knew he wasn’t some hero, and he wasn’t a villain either.

He was just him, and she still wanted him.

She leaned back, teeth working her bottom lip as she looked up at him through her lashes. “So what do you think?”

He slid his hands under her ass and pulled her against him. “I think I ain’t fucking you for the first time on a table. Come on, Imp, I’m taking you to bed.

#

Nora shoved away the edges of guilt that threatened to steal away the moment. When Rampart lifted her, it reminded her of Danse, of Nate. Had she so quickly replaced them both? Had the meant so little to her that the first man to show some interest in her ended up in her bed?

Try as she might, the fears lingered.

“Whatever you’re thinking, Imp, knock it off.” He set her on the bed before taking a step backward.

“You don’t know what I’m thinking, so how do you know I should knock it off?”

He grasped the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, distracting her for a moment. While Nora could understand the beauty of women, she’d known she wasn’t interested in them because the strength he carried, the easy utilitarian nature of his body called to her.

Rampart's fingers went to his pants, working down the zipper. “May not know what you’re thinking exactly, but I know guilt when I see it. Ain’t hard to read it all across your face. So yeah, I got a pretty good idea what’s going on there. What? Feeling like you’re supposed to just walk through life like you’re dead, too? Feeling like you ain’t supposed to find any sort of happiness just because you lost someone?”

Nora’s fingers toyed with the edge of the blanket on the bed to keep them busy. “Pretty much. It’s easy at first when you lose someone. You keep putting one foot in front of the other, you have things to keep you busy. When Nate died, well, I had plenty of things on my plate to worry about. Finding Danse, that wasn’t something I expected, but it snuck up on me. It’s just that, later, after a while, you feel like you’re not allowed to have a life anymore. You’re supposed to mourn them forever.”

“Is that what you think either of ‘em would have wanted for you, Imp? Because I can’t imagine you’d put up with assholes, and no decent man worth your time would want you drifting through the rest of your life lonely.”

She drew in a breath and let his words wash away some of the guilt on her. She forced her lips to part and for her to say the words that hurt, the words she felt she wasn’t supposed to say, but needed to say. “No. They’d be pissed to see me feeling sorry for myself and letting anything I want pass me by.”

He didn’t take the pants off, resting one knee on the bed to lean forward and trace her bottom lip with his thumb. “If you’re having second thoughts-”

But she wasn’t. She wanted this; hell, she needed it. Needed to feel his weight above her, needed to feel that sense of connection. So Nora grasped his hand and tugged him forward, over her, silencing his offer to wait.

Just the offer helped. The fact he’d wait, the fact he’d worry more about whether it was too fast for her than he did about his own wants. It let her relax, let her take a breath and know that, yeah, she did want him.

Rampart let out a hard laugh when he settled over her. “Well you didn’t quite think this through, did ya, Imp?” He nodded down between them. “Can’t do a whole lot of good still wearing my pants.”

“You’re a problem-solver from what I’ve seen. I’m sure you can figure it out.” She arched up off the bed to capture his lips.

His chuckle against her lips warmed her before he returned the kiss, then shifted against her, working his pants off.

Inventive and efficient, she’d guess, since it took no more than a minute before his weight came back down against her, his cock against her hip.

His groan had her smiling against his kiss. She liked that he not only wanted her, but he made no mistake about letting her know how much.

It made her feel wanted.

Nora shifted her hips until his cock nestled against her cunt. Even that pressure, a constant push that made it impossible to ignore or forget for even a moment had her toes curling down, needing more.

His lips pulled from hers, though he didn’t move back. “Tell me you want me, again, Imp. I want to hear it.”

She heard what he didn’t say. He didn’t want his ego stroked by knowing she wanted him to fuck her. No, he wanted to know she wanted him.

It reminded her that, while he denied it, while he’d never admit it, he was just as lonely as she was.

So Nora did not only the kind thing, but the thing she wanted. She slipped her fingers into his hair, curling them around his head to hold him still. “I want you, Rampart.”

A slow breath blew over her lips, poured from his before he pressed his hips forward. She stretched around him, her body giving as he took. He didn’t rush, didn’t hurt her, didn’t give more than she could take. No, every inch only made her want more, made her arch against him.

Once he’d bottomed out, when his lower stomach pressed against hers, he pulled in a shuddering breath. “Fuck,” he growled against her lips.

She brushed her lips against his, a plea for a kiss.

He gave her what she wanted, first by a kiss, and then by withdrawing and easing back into her. Her nails curled, likely digging into his scalp, but he didn't complain.

No, he offered another thrust in response. His lips moved from hers to her jaw. He wrapped an arm beneath the small of her back to pull her against him. It angled her, let him thrust deeper. He didn’t take her with careless thrusting like young men so often did. No, he rolled his hips, stroking against her insides. She’d never been a woman able to come more than once in a row, but he seemed determined to try.

With her body pinned against him, his pelvis ground against her clit. Each rock of his hips drove another spark of sensation through her, made her cunt squeeze around him. She twisted beneath him, the feelings overwhelming, washing over her and driving away everything else.

His lips played across her ear, pulling at the lobe. “This was worth waiting for, Imp. First time you’ve stopped arguing with me.” His hips snapped forward on an especially hard thrust then ground against her clit.

She gasped, eyes closing. One hand slid to the back of his neck as she gave in. She stopped trying to hold it together, trying to keep some control. Her thigh came up, rubbing against his hip.

He pressed his lips to her neck, then nipped the skin. Not hard enough to break the skin, or even to bruise, but it still added the last bit of attention she needed. She came harder than before, the action startling her. She gave up so much power in that moment, so much of herself.

But if Rampart took any of it, if he concerned himself with it, she couldn’t tell. His cock jerked inside her, small jerks she recognized, the release of a warm breath against her throat further evidence that he’d come as well.

Nora let herself relax in the quiet embrace. Rampart leaned against her, his breath warming her neck, his hand rubbing over her side in soft strokes. When he pulled back, even the drag of his softening cock too much on her sensitive body.

He chuckled as he rolled over.

Nora went to rise, to clean up, but Rampart grabbed her arm and tugged her back.

“I need to wipe off,” Nora complained but didn’t try to rise again.

“Don’t care. You ain’t escaping that easily. Took too long to catch you.”

She tossed a leg over his thighs and wrapped an arm around his waist. “We can’t just stay here all day.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Wanna bet, Imp? Because I’m pretty damned sure I can keep you busy for a long fucking time.”

She curled into his warmth, into the promise of his arms, and realized how much she wanted him to do just that.

Chapter Text

Rampart woke to Nora shifting in the bed beside him. They’d spent the day together, not always fucking, though they’d done a lot of that. He’d pulled on some pants to head out for some food when it neared dinner time, picking up something from Daisy and a hell of a grin from Hancock.

Nora had read for a while, perched in his lap,  while he’d just relaxed in the early evening hours. The book had been some old romance tale, and she’d smile through it. He could tell when she’d reached a good point, when she’d shifted in his lap, her lip between her teeth, a breathy little moan escaping.  And Rampart, being the good guy he was, had reached his hand between her thighs while she’d read.

But hours later, after they’d fallen asleep, she stirred. She bolted upright beside him, and even in the darkness of the room, her silhouette jerked back and forth.

Searching?

Her breath came out thin and tight. Terrified.

Fuck.

Rampart sat up and set a hand on her arm. “Hey there, Imp. It’s me.”

Would she lash out at him? You never knew when people were pushed up against a wall like that, never knew how they’d react. Especially true when he didn’t know what the fuck caused it.

She didn’t pull away, though. Didn’t shove at him or throw insults. No, she wrapped her arms around him like she needed that, her leg sliding over his hips, pressing every inch of her body against his.

Rampart’s hands moved out of some instinct he had no idea he even possessed. They slipped around her, rubbing her back and clutching her to him.

She didn’t go further, didn’t start that whispering shit, didn’t tremble. It was like the touch halted the panic in its place, kept it from spreading, from consuming her. Was that him? Did he help it? Maybe it was stupid ego, but he wanted it to be true.

Nora didn’t move right away, and he didn’t mind it. She could stay there all fucking night as far as he figured. She could set up camp and just live right there, in his lap, just as long as she wanted.

After a while, too soon according to him, she leaned back. Even with her naked and in his lap, his attention stayed on whatever was going on with her.

“So you ready to tell me the fuck is up with this?”

Her hands moved down his chest and to his waist. “I’m not a fan of the dark.”

“Well ain’t that an understatement? Talk to me.” And., fuck, he wanted her to. She’d given him her body, her time, but now he wanted something more. He wanted her past, her truth, to just know her.

She kept her hands moving over his skin like it grounded her. “You know my husband died, that he was shot. The thing is, I was there. I saw it all. I was stuck in a-” she hesitated, then shrugged. “A sort of tube. It had glass so I could see out of it, but I couldn’t get out. I was trapped in there, so I watched as this man stole my son and shot my husband.”

The word son had his back straightening. She’d never mentioned any kid. “You have a-”

“-No. Not anymore, I don’t.”

No relief came. Sure, he didn’t want kids, but that pain in her voice made him want to wipe it away.

She kept going, though. “My son died. But, the thing is, I was completely helpless. I was trapped, and helpless, and that man took everything from me. Then, later, the bunker Danse killed himself in? It was this small dingy little backroom. I stood across from him, begging him to let me help him before he lifted his gun and pulled the trigger. I hate the dark because everything bad in my life, the moments when I’ve been stuck and useless and worthless have happened in the dark.”

Rampart lifted a hand and ran it over her cheek. Wetness covered his fingers. “I’ve seen a lot of shit, done a lot of shit, and you know what I learned? Bad shit happens in the light too, Imp.”

She released a half-hearted laugh. “I saw John streaking in Goodneighbor first thing in the morning. Bad shit definitely happens during the day.”

He frowned at the thought of Hancock strutting the streets naked and in broad daylight, all that ruined skin on display. He shuddered. “I don’t think I like your friendship with him. Wiseman, either. You’re awfully cozy with a lot of fucking people.”

“What can I say? Some people find me charming.”

“Maybe. Thing is, it ain’t charm that pulls ‘em to you.”

“No? What is it?”

He rubbed his thumb against her jawline in a soothing caress. “Something to believe in. Ain’t much in the world worth following, worth wanting, worth believing in.” He tugged her forward for a chaste kiss. “But I think you’re worth believing in.”

They stayed close enough, he felt when her lips pulled into a smile. “You’re right, bad things happen in the light too. You know what else I realized?”

The mischief in her voice had him smiling. “What?”

Her hands moved down his body until they dipped between them, until she dragged her fingers along the length of his cock. “There are some pretty good things in the dark, too.”

And just like that, he was pretty fucking sure he loved her.

#

“Why are we doing this again, Imp?” Rampart trudged beside Nora, and despite his complaining, he didn’t seem too upset.

In fact, he constantly reached over to touch Nora. He’d run his fingers over her arm or pull her in for a quick kiss. Each almost mindless touch eased a part of Nora she hadn’t realized was tense. It worked on her wounds the way his salve had, to numb that pain, to help it heal.

She turned to walk backward. “I told you already. The Slog will work for wounded, but we don’t want to set up from there. I have some artillery set up at the asylum, but I need to make sure it’s good to go before Preston’s men get there. I don’t like to leave anything to chance.”

“But why is that you, General of this whole thing, have to do that? Seems like you’d have someone to delegate that shit to.”

“Preston is always telling me the same. I guess I figure, why delegate it? What else am I going to do? At least this way I don’t send people in when I’m not sure if the equipment is working.”

He chuckled before Nora turned to walk beside him. The easiness of their interactions felt odd. It had taken her so long to fall for Nate, for Danse, yet it had been only a little over a week, and she hardly remembered life before Rampart. He’d managed to crawl into her life and make a place for himself, a place she hadn’t realized was so damned empty before.

How would he fit into her life? How could she rearrange her life to make an actual relationship work?

It had been easy with Danse. They’d been so consumed with their mission, with finding Shaun, with helping the Brotherhood, she’d had little time to worry about how they fit. She hadn’t had a life beyond the plans, hadn’t had to think about it.

Now, though? With Rampart?

Would she set up her house in Sanctuary? Codsworth had been begging her to come back, had been working at keeping up her old place. Could she live in those walls with Rampart? Would he even want that?

Maybe they’d be better to set up elsewhere. He hadn’t struck her as the type to want to live in a quiet settlement. Maybe Goodneighbor was more his speed? John would let her take over one of the warehouses, and they could set up a nice place there. Honestly, going back to Sanctuary didn’t sound great to her, either.

Her old life was over, and she didn’t want to pick it back up. She wanted to set up something new, wanted to find a place for her and now for Rampart that wasn’t just whatever she’d had before.

He bumped her with his shoulder as the asylum came up on the horizon. “What’s going on in your head?”

“After we put down The Forged, what’s your plan? What do you want?”

He said nothing for a moment as they walked, both of their gaze forward like neither wanted to admit the conversation they were having. It was only a week in; it was too early for a ‘what are we doing here’ talk, but Nora didn’t live the simple like she used to. She needed to understand what he wanted, to see if that had any chance of fitting with her.

As the neared the asylum, he spoke. “My life ain’t ever been easy or simple or quiet, Imp. Spent a lot of it working my way as a raider, doing some terrible shit, working for something even if I didn’t know what. Then I got exiled, and I spent my time hiding. If we do this, if we take out The Forged, I ain’t sure what I’ll want. Never figured I’d get to think about it, I guess.”

Nora nodded, stepping over a fallen tree over the path. “I was like that when The Institute fell. I remember standing there with John, staring over the smoking wreckage, and I didn’t know what to do. I’d worked at taking them down, at making them pay, and once they were gone? I had no idea what else to do. It’s almost worse when you have all the choices possible all of a sudden.”

“Yeah. It’s like, in the middle of shit, you act on impulse. You just do what needs doing, and nothing else matters. Then, at the end-” he shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess it’s the first time I’d have some choices.”

And that’s what she was worried about. When he had choices, when he could go anywhere, what did he want? This was fun, but it was fun because he was still stuck. When he could do anything, would he rethink it?

Still, those questions perched on her lips. She couldn’t let them out, couldn’t ask them, too afraid of the answer.

If Rampart noticed, he didn’t mention it, just kept talking. “You know why I made a shitty raider?”

“Probably because you can’t tell the difference between a General and a spoiled city bitch.”

He elbowed her in the ribs with a gentle jab. “Smart-ass. No, it was because I became a raider because I could shoot. Never liked taking orders which put the gunners out, and I didn’t like the idea of being totally on my own, so a merc didn’t fit well. Fell into one raider gang after another and stuck it out because I could kill and it made me useful. The chems made it easier to deal with it all, but I hated it. I didn’t want power, didn’t want shit, I just wanted somewhere quiet. I wanted something of my own, a place to go that was mine, where I didn’t have to watch my back, where I felt like I belonged.”

She pulled in a breath, John’s words in her ears. It was easy, you just had to take that one step. “And where do you think that is?”

He grabbed her arm to pull her to a stop, then turned so they faced each other. “Seriously? Still with this worry bullshit? I’m hoping it’s with you, Imp.”

The words let her release a breath that had locked in her chest, but it was the kiss he gave her afterward which stole her breath. He kissed her with a certainty that wiped away her worry. That wasn’t the kiss of a man who was looking to turn tail. Nora had gotten good at reading people, and Rampart kissed her like he wasn’t going anywhere.

When he pulled back, Nora almost tripped forward trying to follow. He cocked up an eyebrow, humor over his lips. “Come on, Imp. Fucking you out here ain’t a good idea.”

“Well, you know, there are a lot of empty rooms in the asylum.”

“Should have figured you’d for the sort to fuck in a nuthouse.” His joke had her smiling.

How had she found this again? She’d been so sure she’d lost everything, that she’d never have something like this in her life. They crossed the last bit of space before stepping onto the porch near the front door.

With the Cabot's gone, no one used the asylum anymore, leaving Nora able to use it as she saw fit. Patrols would ensure no raiders moved in, but otherwise? Just a large empty building, which sounded perfect for what she had in mind with Rampart.

Rampart pulled her against him and into another kiss as she reached behind her to open the door. A push with her heel shoved the door open before they stumbled backward through the doorway. He caught the door frame with a hand to keep them from tumbling to the floor, his other arm around her lower back to keep her pinned to him.

She was ready to strip him down and have him right there in the entryway. Foolish and stupid and exactly what she wanted.

At least, she was until the clearing of a throat and a thin, chem-filled giggle caught their attention. Nora turned to find two men in familiar gear, burns on their arms, gazes vacant and clouded by who-knew-what.

Nora would recognize Forged raiders anywhere, and the point was only made clearer when they raised flamers at her and Rampart.

Chapter Text

Rampart acted on instinct. The moment he'd laid eyes on the assholes, he’d reacted. A shove to Nora to get her out of the doorway and behind cover, then a hand to the pistol on his hip.

The crackle of the flamers clicking on was something so familiar, he didn’t react. Even when a burst of heat struck his arm as he took two steps backward to lessen the burn, he just moved. Two pulls of the trigger, and he’d downed both raiders.

Nora had already pulled her own rifle from her back, gaze steady, not a speck of fear. Reminded him again she wasn’t anything like he’d expected her to be.

Which right about then, he was damned glad about.

Rampart pulled the door open but spotted movement at the far wall. “Fuck, Imp, looks like they knew we were coming. Pulled out all the steps this time.” He slammed the door and turned back. “Looks like we’re headed further in.”

“Lucky for you, I know this place. There’s a few ways out, depending on how close they’ve got it locked down. Could they have figured out what we’re up to? I get that you aren’t their favorite person, but would they really follow you this far?”

Rampart followed her as they moved through the rooms. The cracking of the front door being kicked in moved them faster. “Yeah, Slag would. He’s got an ego on him, and I doubt he ever really forgave me for not living up to what he wanted me to be.”

“Sounds like more than just a pissed raider boss. Are you missing part of the conversation?”

Rampart used his shoulder to knock open a locked door. “He came to appreciate my advice, I think. It got him a lot of power. Losing that? It was a blow he wasn’t happy about. I think maybe he always thought I’d hop myself back up on chems and beg to get back into the fold. Slag, he’s obsessive. Doesn’t like to lose shit.”

Nora shoved Rampart moments before a bullet struck the wall where Rampart had stood. The action pushed them into a room. So, it seemed the fuckers had managed to flank them. They had to have most of their boys to cover this much room.

Rampart could almost feel flattered by that.

Sure, Slag hated him, but this many people to come after him? They’d already lost four at his shack, a hand-full more outside the Slog, and two so far there. That was a lot of fucking men for Slag to throw at the problem.

Nora looked around, her eyes darting. “They cut us off.”

Rampart pointed at the elevator near a desk. “Where does that go? If we can get to the roof, we can find a way off.”

Nora shook her head. “That goes down only, and there’s no way out of that basement. It was used as a lab, locked down well. We go down there, they can’t get in, but they can wait us out.”

“Yeah, ain’t looking forward to the idea of starving to death in some fucking hole in the ground.”

Nora laughed as she barred the door with him, shoving a filing cabinet in front of it. “Me either. I happen to enjoy food.”

“And the whole dying part?”

“Well, yeah, I’d rather not die, but the no food thing, that seems a more immediate problem.”

Rampart leaned his back against the filing cabinet as his mind searched for another option. “How you doing on ammunition, Imp?”

Nora patted her pockets, then hauled her backpack around to look inside. “Good. We can hold them off for a pretty good while before we run out.”

But they would run out. That was the part she didn’t say. The Forged would have far more bullets. Someone shoved at the door, but they couldn’t move the cabinet let alone Nora and Rampart.

Not yet, but once they got a few of their boys there? A few good shoves, and they’d be in.

“Listen, Imp-”

Nora shook her head. “Not doing it. We aren’t doing goodbyes. I’ve been in worse spots than this before.”

“Doubt that.”

“Sure I have. You should have seen me run the Nuka World gauntlet. Red-Eye kept calling me the ‘vic’ and Colter laughed when he saw me through the glass, said no vault-dweller could have made it.”

Rampart let his head hit the filing cabinet before locking his eyes on Nora, wanting to see her, to memorize her. “Bet it was a sight. I saw what Colter did to one of his vics before. Fuck, wish I could have seen the look on Gage’s face when you put Colter down.”

“He was the one who put me up to it. When we get out of this, we’ll go visit. I told you I’d pull a few strings for you, get you the whole VIP experience. We’ll go to a Pack get-together, I’ll introduce you to Nisha. She’ll hate you, of course, but she hates everyone with a dick.”

He caught her behind the neck and pulled her in for a kiss. She didn't want him to say goodbye, didn’t want to talk about the fact he didn’t see a way out of this shit, but he used the kiss to say it.

She wrapped a hand around his wrist and broke the kiss to rest her forehead against his. “Well, at least I won’t have to bury another man I love. In fact, someone else will have to deal with that mess.”

“Love?” Rampart’s lips pulled into a subtle grin. “You saying you love me, Imp?”

Her eyes went soft, the way they did when something was important to her, when it dug past those defenses she’d been so good at setting up. Her gaze shifted past him toward the door, toward the bangs from bodies striking against it, then back to him. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

Rampart didn’t think he’d ever heard anything as surprising. He pulled her closer for one last kiss, then pushed off the door and slapped her ass. “Okay, Imp. Get your ass behind that desk, and let’s give them hell.”

#

The door splintered after an especially hard body struck it. Nora unloaded a shot in that direction, ready to hold that position.

They weren’t going to win. That was clear enough, but they’d damn well give them hell. If some raiders were going to do Nora in, she’d be sure to take out as many of them as she could.

And, hey, at least she wouldn’t need to watch Rampart die. Going out in a blaze of glory, right? The idea should have made her chest ache, but instead, she found herself releasing a laugh at the absurdity of it all.

A voice from the doorway soaked in authority and chems rang through the space. “What do you find so funny, General?”

General? So they knew who she was?

“Just thinking about how funny it is that out of everything I’d killed, it’s you chem-addled idiots who manage to put me down.” She shouted the words past the desk they’d taken cover behind. “If I had to bet, I would have put my money on a vertibird crash.”

A bang, probably from them shoving the last of the makeshift barrier out of the way before the man spoke again. “You got any idea how hard it was to track you down?”

Rampart released a soft curse, coming to the same conclusion. They’d never been after Rampart at all. They’d been after Nora the entire time. They must have figured out who she was that first time.

He looked over and mouthed a name: Slag

So the man who spoke was the one who had done that to his face? Nora’s temper slipped as she remembered the story, as she thought about what that man had done to Rampart.

“And why are you putting all that effort in just for me?”

“Because you’d be worth a lot. You got any idea the caps people would pay for you? Some to get you back, some to be able to do whatever they want with you. Not to mention, if we got you out of the way, it opens up a lot of doors to folks like us.”

“And how did you know it was me?”

“Ah, you’re famous. Anyone who doesn't know you has to live under a rock.”

Rampart twisted his head to toss a glare in their direction but stayed behind the desk.

“So, listen.” Heavy footsteps said Slag moved around, pacing slowly. “You ain’t stupid. You know you’re not getting out of here alive. Why don’t we make ourselves a little deal?”

“I can’t think of a thing you have to offer.”

“How about the life of whatever little pet you’ve been dragging around with you? He must be special if you’ve got him by the balls. He walks, and I promise we won’t rough you up, at least until we get our caps. Other choice is you make it hard, we slaughter your buddy, then we have our fun with you while we find someone willing to pay?”

She closed her eyes and hit the back of her head against the desk, looking for another option, for something, anything.

Rampart grabbed her hand, and when she looked over at him, he jerked his head no. Of course no. He wouldn’t want her to do that, but damn it, she’d already said she couldn’t go through this again.

As long as she knew he was safe, she could endure anything. She’d endured so much already, the entire end of the world. As long as he was out there, breathing and living, nothing else really mattered.

She took a breath, ready to agree, when Rampart reached into his pocket, grabbed something, and stood.

He held a grenade in his hand, pin already pulled, held out to show it.

Silence, then a laugh from Slag. “Well fuck, your face ain’t one I’d forget, Rampart. Leave it to you to still be causing me trouble.”

Rampart kept his arm out, the grenade between him and the raiders. “Nice to see you, too, Slag.”

“How’d you get yourself wrapped up in this? You never were a do-gooder. Too much of a coward to do anything like that.”

Nora turned so she could watch the interaction.

Slag had a bald head, a dark beard, and a lot of dirt on his face. His gaze dropped to Nora before his lips tipped up. “Course, I caught sight of her when you two were walking in here, that little show out there, and who the fuck knows what I’d do for a taste of that. Course, she doesn’t take my offer, and I guess I’ll get have that taste.”

Rampart waved the grenade. “I’ve got another idea.”

“You always had those, didn’t you? Come on, Rampart, for old times, tell me your idea.”

“Take me.”

Nora stood, but Rampart wrapped an arm around her and shoved her behind him, his gaze never moving off Slag.

“Why would I do that?”

Rampart kept her behind him. “Because I’m more trouble than she is. She is one tiny part of a big machine, but me? I know your secrets, I know your weaknesses, and you keep pushing, I'll make sure everyone knows them.”

Slag shrugged, his fingers trailing over the edge of the desk. “So I shoot you, take her, problem solved.”

“You shoot me, I drop this, kill her, me, and you. That doesn't sound like it works for anyone.”

“Rampart, you won’t do this.” Nora shoved at his back, but he wouldn’t be moved.

“Quiet, Imp.” He backed her slowly toward the elevator, his gaze never wavering, never shaking. “You’re smart, Slag. You know that if you take her, all those factions she has behind her are going to rain hell down on you. You’ll never sell her off, not before one of them decides to take you out. If I was still by your side, I’d have told you that, never let you throw away this many people.”

“So you want back into the fold?”

“Fuck no. But guess what? All those boys you lost so far? My work. And if I stay out of your grasp, I’ll make damn sure you regret it, so take the smart bet.”

Slag said nothing, his fingers tapping on the desktop.

Rampart had moved them back, so she stood against the door of the elevator. “You remember when we took that farm? The one east of us, fuck, eight years ago? Maybe more? And you swore up and down it was worth it, but I told you to leave it be. What did I tell you?”

“You told me the prize looked too good to be true.”

“And you didn’t listen to me. You hit the farm, found that they didn’t have shit other than an angry man who had a hell of a way with explosives. How many men did you lose that day?”

A tic in Slag’s jaw said he remembered. “Fourteen.”

“Fourteen because you didn’t listen to me. So Slag, make a better choice. Listen to me this time.”

Slag’s fingers never stopped that tapping, even and heavy. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s time to cut losses.”

Rampart nodded, his hand releasing her and hitting the button for the elevator door. “Good plan. She’s going to go one down this elevator while we walk out of here. When she comes back up, she’ll have enough explosives to level this place. A single fucking one of you still around? You’ll be dead, she’ll be dead, and all those friends of hers will pay you all a visit.”

Slag laughed, nodding. “Fair enough. Just to make shit clear, though, we see any of those buddies of hers and trust me, you’ll be dead before she gets close. Railroad fuckers, the Minutemen, the brotherhood, I see a single one of ‘em within a mile of our place, and your throat gets slit. You understand me, General?”

Rampart didn’t let her answer, probably knew she’d say something she shouldn’t. “She gets it.” He twisted, but kept the grenade in sight, like a reminder for them not to try anything.

“You can’t do this, I won’t let you.”

He set his free hand on her cheek and pressed his forehead to her. “Come on, Imp, could you just listen for once?”

Her voice went low. “I can’t do this, not again.”

“Sure you can. I’ve been selfish my whole fucking life. I’ve always looked out for myself, didn’t give a shit about anyone else. First time in my life I’ve cared about shit, and I’m not about to let you get hurt to save my skin.”

Nora shook her head. “Drop the grenade. Just let it go, and we’ll stay right here, together.”

He pulled her into a kiss, wiping away the room, Slag, the Forged, the grenade. She pretended for a minute that things had a happy ending, that they had a way out of this where they lived happily ever after. She closed her eyes and kissed him back, waiting for him to drop the grenade, while she pictured a future.

They’d have a little place, maybe out in Goodneighbor. She’d take the odd job, mostly for fun. They’d meet up with John for dinner sometimes, and things would be normal. They’d fall asleep together, wake up together, and just be ordinary people.

It’s all she'd ever wanted, so while she waited for the grenade to drop, for him to let it go, she let herself melt into the life she’d wanted.

Except, he didn’t. Instead, Rampart broke the kiss, shoved her inside, and hit the button the door.

She came forward, but she knew damned well nothing would stop those doors. Jack Cabot had made them impenetrable, made them lockdown. “Don’t do this,” she begged him once more.

Rampart tipped his lips into a smile, the action pulling on the scars of his face. “I love you too, Imp.”

Chapter Text

Nora paced past John again, the tension a snarling beast inside her. Twenty-four hours. Twenty-four hours since Rampart had sacrificed himself for her, since he’d sent her down that elevator, since she’d last seen him.

At the top of the elevator, she’d found no blood, no sign he’d been harmed. The trail took off toward their base, but she hadn’t followed. Even though she’d wanted to, she knew damned well it wasn’t the smart play. They’d be looking for her.

“Take a load off, sunshine.”

Nora tossed a glare at John before passing him yet again. “I need to do something.”

“You will. You ain’t a do nothing girl.”

“Well, so far, I’ve done nothing.” Her gaze shifted over to the door. A few stealthboys, her silenced pistol, a few blades. Easy.

Nora hadn't realized she’d taken a step toward the door until John grabbed her wrist and yanked her onto the couch beside him.

“Uh-huh, sister. Sit your ass down. You need a plan because I ain’t letting you run out of here half-cocked.”

She let herself sit beside him and dropped her head into her hands. “I don’t know what to do, John. I can’t take the Brotherhood, I can’t take the Minutemen, I can’t use artillery, I don’t have anything else.”

He pulled her against his side, arm draped over her shoulders. “Think it through. You’ve always got more up your sleeve than you realize.”

“I’ve got to do it alone. If I’m careful, if I plan it well, I can get in and out.”

“Not happening. If you think there’s any chance that any of your friends are about to let you run off on some suicide, death or glory bullshit mission, you’ve lost your mind. Ain’t happening.”

“I don’t have a choice. I can’t lose him.”

John kicked his feet up on the table. “Gotta say, even after our talk, I didn’t think you’d listen. You’ve never been one for listening to advice. Then I met Rampart, and I saw the way you lit up, and I thought, well fuck. Maybe you’d listened to me.”

Nora rubbed her palms on her thighs. “I didn’t want to listen. Damn it, I didn’t want this. But then he had to become important to me, and I had to fall for him, and then the idiot had to risk himself for me.”

John set a hand over his mouth in mock horror. “What an asshole.”

She elbowed him in the side. “I’m serious, John. I have to figure this out. I have to do something. He means too much to me.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Almost lost you after tin can, and I ain’t looking forward to who you turn into if this goes bad.”

“So you’ll let me go?”

“Alone? Fuck no. Use that brain of yours. You got more favors to call in than you’re realizing.”

Nora sat forward and twisted to face him. “Like who? Who could I possibly call in on something like this? Anyone I know would get spotted in a heartbeat. They’re looking for my people, waiting for them.”

John caught her chin so she met his gaze. “So you’re telling me you need a bunch of people that raiders won’t think twice about who can get in close and do a lot of damage? Well fuck, sunshine, if only you know some folks like that, some folks who do what you say and ain’t afraid of some bloodshed?”

The answer made her want to curse. How the hell had she missed that? It had been staring her in the face the entire time.

John chuckled as she pulled away. “There ya go.”

#

“Ain’t used to the heat anymore, are you?” Slag leaned against the railing near the forge, his power armor forgotten. “Life out there makes people soft, but I never figured it’d make you soft. Nah, not the Rampart I knew, not that asshole who could drop a man from a distance I never seen before, who could plan any attack. Didn’t figure there was shit that could dull you. Hell, even when I burned that shit into your face, I figured you’d come back looking for revenge. Disappointed me when you ran off instead, but again, looking at you, you’re pretty damn soft.”

Rampart shrugged, the chain around his wrist clattering as he shifted. “How many of your boys did I kill? Not so soft, really.”

Slag laughed, shaking his head. “You keep that mouth going, don’t you? Gotta wonder why you seem to want me to kill you.”

But that was exactly what Rampart was doing. It was what he’d been doing the whole damn time. He wasn’t stupid enough to think he would get out of this alive. No, Slag would make him help The Forged plan again, and he’d take a bit of Rampart every damn time. Either Rampart helped and had to live with that blood on his hands, with the fact it would hurt Nora, or he’d refuse, and Slag would just keep on burning away parts of him.

Nah, neither was an acceptable outcome. Better he just piss Slag off until the asshole got sick of the game and tossed him into the Forge.

Better for him. Better for Nora.

If only Slag would fucking give into that temper he had.

Rampart pushed again. “Been gone five years, and in all that time, you’ve done nothing. You’ve sat here in your little factory like shit, didn’t move out, didn’t even cause enough trouble for the Minutemen to take notice of you.”

Ah, there was the twitching of Slag’s eyebrow, the clench of his jaw. Just a little more.

“You know, I helped them plan. I sat down with the general of the Minutemen, with the fucker who runs the Brotherhood, and they had no idea who you were. You all weren’t even skidmarks to them. Some job you’ve done with The Forged; five years and no one even knows you.”

Slag took a step closer. Finally. Slag would lose it, finish him off, and it’d all be done. So easy, fast, simple. Probably right into the forge, but that shit didn’t take long to finish off a person.

Rampart pulled his shoulders back, staring down the fucker.

Only Slag stopped just before him, lips pulling up. “So explain it to me, huh?”

“Explain what? How you drove this gang into the ground?”

“Nah. How about what it is about that girl that has you by the balls? See, at first, at first, I figured it was just you. I mean, you let that kid get away, but I realized it wasn’t softness. That was stupidity, that’s it. But that shit at the elevator? Where you sacrificed yourself for her? That’s soft. So, Rampart, explain to me what it is that she has that is so fucking special if can bring you to your knees?”

Something about telling this asshole anything about Nora chafed. He didn’t deserve to know a damn thing about her. Slag knowing shit about her felt like a betrayal, like a taint to her.

But even so, Rampart answered because fuck it. He wanted Slag to know how little he was in the scheme of shit. “I’m sure you’ve heard stories of her. Ain’t possible that even under your rock, you haven’t heard about the woman who took down the institute.”

“So that’s it? Just someone with some clout?”

Rampart shook his head. “Nah. Didn’t even have a clue about that when I met her. You though? You keep wanting my advice, keep wanting me to help you, well here is your advice. Fucking run. If my Imp takes an interest in you, you ain’t shit to stand against her. She will chew you up and spit you out. The only chance you have will be to high tail it the fuck east as far and as fast as you can. You think you’re big? You think you mean shit? You don’t, not against her. So the only advice you’re getting from me is to get out of the Commonwealth just as fast as you can manage because you ain’t a match for her.”

Slag shook his head. “You think a lot of her, but last time I checked, it’s been four fucking days, and you’re still here. Either she ain’t as bad as you think, or you didn’t mean that much to her. Either way, you’re in chains here, and where the fuck is she?”

A flicker to the left was all the warning anyone had before it started. Black with splashes of red came into sight, silver masks, and the shimmer of stealthboys turning off. That gave way to screams, to chaos, to more red as blades were dragged across the throats of the Forged raiders in the room.

Rampart took a step backward from the new people, from the sudden violence. He wasn’t unused to violence, but fuck, it happened so fast.

In a matter of seconds, the only people standing in the room were him, Slag, and a lot of fucking Disciples.

At least until one more flicker gave way to a face he’d missed a fucking lot.

#

Nora should have looked at how many Disciples she still had, how many they’d taken down, a million little bits of information that would tell her what to do next.

Fuck all of that. She only stared at Rampart. His hand had a shackle, a chain connecting it to the railing. No blood stained his shirt, no wounds on him. He was alive and healthy and so close.

He stared at her with the same single-mindedness, like the rest of the room could go away, like it had already.

She took a step toward him before the world crashed in on her, before it all started to move again.

Slag lifted a pistol and pointed it at Rampart. “Hold it right there.”

That got all Nora’s attention. She focused on Slag, on the pistol, on the way one squeeze of his finger would end Rampart right before her eyes.

She lifted her hands, her own weapon secured at her hip. “Easy, Slag. Let’s talk.”

“Now you want to talk? After you walk in and cause this problem, now you think it’s time to talk?”

Nora kept her focus on Slag no matter how much she wanted to look at Rampart. He was more important than anything else. She needed to get him clear, to keep him safe. Nothing else mattered.

So her eyes locked on Slag.  “If we talked first, it might have ruined the surprise.”

Slag’s gaze moved from Nora, darting around at the raiders still standing where his had stood before. “How did you get the Disciples to follow you? They aren’t exactly known for following orders.”

“You should have asked around about me. You thought you knew me, thought you knew what I had. What you didn’t bother to find out about what Nuka World.”

“The fuck does Nuka World have to do with you?”

“I took over for Colter after I killed him, so you’re talking to the Overboss. Mason was disappointed when I told him the Pack couldn’t play, of course. Seems he isn’t a fan of yours. He’s not great at subtlety though, and Nisha and her girls know how to get into a place unseen.”

“All this for some raider? You could have turned around and not walked in here, not risked yourself, not done any of this. I asked Rampart why he’d give himself up for you, but I got to wonder, why you’d do this for him. He’s just a two-bit, washed-up raider with a fucked-up face.”

As he spoke, as he put down Rampart, saying all the things she was sure she’d hear, the thing she’d thought, she knew the answer.

She’d do it because she loved him. She didn’t care about the burns on his face, didn’t care about his past. She’d seen who he really was.

It wasn’t the surly man who complained about helping people, the one who cursed and proclaimed helping people had no point. No, that was the armor he wore, the face he showed to the world. Nora had seen beneath it; she’d seen the truth he tried to hide.

She saw it when he’d pulled her from that tunnel and whispered that she wasn’t there anymore. She’d seen it when he’d locked her inside Arlen’s shop to keep her safe, when he went off alone to deal with the raiders to keep her settlement in one piece. She’d damn well seen it when he’d saved her, giving himself over to his greatest enemy no matter the consequences.

Slag had no idea who he really was, but Nora knew. She’d seen it, and she’d fallen for it.

Instead of telling him all that, because he wouldn’t believe her anyway, she let her lips fall into the same smile she’d had just before she’d blown the Institute into nothing. “You want to know what he is? He’s the first thing I’ve found in a long time that’s worth it.”

“Worth what?”

“Worth risking anything for. Worth wanting.” Nora thought back to when she and John had jumped off the Prydwen, when they’d stood there, looking over the edge, knowing all the risks. In the end, they’d gone over because they only lived once and, damn it, she wasn’t going to regret not jumping. “He’s worth taking that first step for.”

“Trust me, it won’t be worth the risk for you.” Slag twisted, bringing the gun toward Nora.

She reacted on an instinct honed by her years in the Wasteland, ready to lift her pistol despite knowing she wouldn’t land her hit first. No way. It didn’t matter, really. He wouldn’t live, not between her return fire, and if she missed that, Nisha and her girls would put him down.

Good. For once it wouldn’t be Nora who had to pick up the pieces, who had to bury someone, who had to figure out how to keep moving.

She turned her gaze from Slag to Rampart, wanting to see his face, like if she memorized it, everything would be okay.

Rampart caught her gaze, one hard look before he shifted. He threw his weight against Slag. The chains meant Rampart didn’t have much room to move, and even as they pulled tight against where fastened to the railing, he didn’t let it stop him.

Nora had the gun up, but with Rampart on top of Slag, she had no shot. She rushed forward, ready to haul Rampart off Slag, to put a bullet in the raider’s skull, when a shot rang out.

Everything froze. The whole room went silent, Nora’s brain stuttering to a stop as she stared at the two on the ground, the blood that spread around them.

Rampart moved, but not far. He rolled off Slag, then to his back, red soaked into his shirt in a widening circle.

Slag shifted, his hand going behind him to heft himself up.

Nora didn’t give him any thought, putting a bullet between his eyes before she dropped to her knees beside Rampart. She lifted his shirt, revealing the wound just below his ribs. She put her hand out and snapping for a cloth.

When it was placed into her hand by someone, she pressed it to his wound. “You idiot. What were you thinking?”

Rampart hissed when she put pressure on the wound. “Damn, Imp, you’re always busting my balls, ain’t you?”

“Shut up.” Nora pressed harder, blood still escaping through the already soaked fabric. “Goddamnit, someone get me a stimpack!”

He reached up and caught her cheek, wetness telling her blood now covered her cheek. “Would you shut up a minute?”

She pulled in a rough breath before nodding for him to go on. Even though she wanted to rant at him, to tell him how angry she was, how stupid he’d been, she went silent. The stutter of his breath said she should listen to him.

“You were worth it, Imp.” His hand dropped away, a cough splattering blood on her.

A stimpack was pressed into her hand, but even as Nora injected it, she didn’t see how he could possibly pull through it.

She’d found what she really wanted, and he was bleeding out in front of her.

Chapter Text

Nora stared at the graves, the signs of everything she’d suffered, everything she’d lost. She wrapped her arms around herself as she thought about where it all started, back when she’d thought herself brave.

Nate had asked her to dance at a club, and Nora had been young enough and stupid enough to say yes. She’d said yes because she hadn’t learned how dangerous love was, how it could break a person, how it could destroy everything that was them. She used to think she’d been brave back then, but now? Now she knew different. It wasn’t bravery when you didn’t know any better.

Arms wrapped around her from behind and a kiss to her neck had her leaning back against a solid chest. “You okay, Imp?”

Nora nodded, interlacing her fingers with Rampart’s, careful to not pull at the arm on his right, the side still healing from the bullet wound. “Yeah. I just needed to say goodbye.”

“You want me to leave? Give you some privacy?”

She shook her head and held his hand tighter. “There may not be a lot I know, but I know I don’t want you to leave.”

Rampart twisted her toward him, pulling her against his chest. “Well, who’d have figured I’d agree with you about anything?” His hand slid to the back of her neck and tugged her closer for a kiss.

That kiss reminded her what she’d learned. She hadn’t been brave that first time with Nate. No, she’d been brave this time, brave when she’d kissed Rampart, when she knew the sort of pain and loss that was possible, but she did it anyway.

That was the real bravery; knowing how damn scary something was and taking that first step anyway.

And she’d never been so glad to have jumped.

#

Rampart pulled his arm from the turret after fixing it the way Nora had taught him. Even four weeks into living at The Slog, Arlen refused to put in the right gears, and Nora hadn’t pushed it.

Their small place sat near the back fence, far enough away to give Rampart the privacy he wanted but close enough for that sense of family she needed.

They ate their meals in the main house, Wiseman talking plans, Arlen doting on her like some proud father. They accepted Rampart, too. Holly would bring him flowers to give to Nora, and Wiseman ensured they had a place set for him every night. No one stared at him, no one made him feel like a freak, like an outsider.

Nah, they fucking smiled when he’d take Nora in his arms and pull her into his lap when they all sat together in the evenings, near the fire. He’d never had that, never felt that. Even in The Forged, he’d been a necessity. Not part of anything important, not wanted for anything beyond what they could get from him.

Here?

He fucking fell asleep with Nora in his arms, and he slept through the night. No worries about someone gutting him, about someone turning on him. Nah, he was part of a community. Who’d have ever thought that shit might happen? Sometimes he’d feel like a wolf in the middle of sheep, but then Nora would smile at him, and he’d just fucking melt. Maybe it was two wolves in the middle of sheep, but fuck if he didn’t find he liked keeping an eye on all Nora’s flock.

The crunch of sticks had him pulling his gaze up and reaching for his pistol. Old habits and all.

He grinned. “Hey there, Imp.”

His girl walked toward him, her large flannel bagging over one shoulder, tempting him with a bra strap. His fingers itched to tug it down, to kiss the skin there, to tease down to her collarbone.

Nora. He didn’t know what he might have fucking done to earn her, to earn those smiles she gave him, to earn the way she moaned against his ear at night when he fucked her. Nah, he hadn’t done shit to be worthy of her, and maybe that’s what really made it mean something to him.

“Did you finish with the turrets?”

He kicked his heel against the leg of the machine. “Sure did.”

Nora hooked her fingers into his belt and pulled him forward. “Wiseman says mutts keep picking off the brahmin in the northern pen.”

“Can’t really blame when animals do what they do, especially to delicious looking prey.” He slipped his fingers into her shirt where the buttons were undone near the bottom, stroking against her stomach.

“They need those brahmin.”

He huffed a laugh as he flicked open the bottom button. “So?”

“So, we need to help.”

Another button opened beneath his touch. “Always are the savior, ain’t you?”

“Does that bother you?”

Her top gaped open as he pulled free the last two buttons. “Nah, especially when I bet your entire savior complex is why you even took a second look at a tear-down like me.”

She flicked his shoulder. “Hey now, that’s the man I love you’re talking about.”

Rampart laughed before his started to work the button her pants. “See? Always complaining.”

She didn’t stop him as he pushed the pants down over her hips. “What are you doing?”

He grinned as his fingers slid down into her underwear. “Well, I’m going to take care of you, and then we’ll go help your settlers.”

“Aren’t you selfless?” One of those soft moans left her lips, the ones he knew he’d never get tired of, the ones that were worth anything.

“Not before. Before nothing mattered more than me.”

She gasped when he slipped a finger into her. “What changed?”

Rampart let his forehead rest against hers, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the sounds she made, the way she felt. “You did. Before I was always being who I thought I needed to be, but you? The way you saw me, the person you thought I could be? First time anyone saw anything good in me, first time someone thought I could be something more.”

“You already were more; you just didn’t notice it.”

He chuckled, her words causing him to fall for her all over again, for the woman who saw the best in everyone, who made everyone else their best. “Still arguing, huh? Well now, Imp, why don’t I try to see if I can’t distract you enough to keep you quiet, just for a bit?”

And he knew damned well ‘just for a bit’ would be just as long as he could get.