Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The small eight year old sat between the beds that held his parents. They were tucked in tight to scratching white sheets, the white walls, the white floor. Everything was so clean and the smell of antiseptic filled his head and burnt his nose. 
He sat and waited for them to wake up. To sit up and pull the tubes out of their mouths and noses and arms. To pull the stitches holding their skin together. To pull him into a hug and tell him that it would be okay.
He'd been here for days. He wanted his dad to take them home. He wanted his brother.
So, he sat in silence and waited. And waited. And waited. Between the dying forms of his mother and father.

They didn't know how he'd survived the wreck. Their car had been hit head on at a t-junction. The fusion engine had caught fire and he'd been pulled out of the wreckage with just a few bruises and scrapes. The rescue team had been expecting his mangled burnt corpse. Every inch of him had been checked and, apart from being unmarked, he seemed fine. Though he didn't speak. Didn't react to questions. Didn't tell them how he was feeling. Didn't eat.
They'd tried to contact his brother, the twenty three year old corporal who was stuck in Anchorage with the war. His supervisors wouldn't tell the medical staff why he couldn't come home with extenuating circumstances, just that he couldn't. They sent a letter.
They tried to contact friends of the family but no one answered.

The boy was alone.

So, the State got involved and found him a place in the orphanage usually reserved for the children whose parents had died in the war. The boy's name carried weight and bought him a place.

He'd been allowed to go to his parents' funeral. A small affair with just him, the priest, and a few witnesses. He watched them be lowered into the ground, scattered the dirt, was presented with a folded American flag and a picture of his parents, and then was bundled into the back of a car by a stern woman with a tight face. 

He arrived at the orphanage, was put in his room, and left alone.
None of the kids tried to play with him and he didn't try to play with them. They laughed at his unmarked skin and tripped him when he walked past them.

No one spoke to him. No one tried .

***

He'd been balls deep in a new recruit when his general had found him. Sweating and grunting and just trying to feel anything. Anything other than nothing.

“Corporal Rake, make yourself presentable and come to the tent. It's urgent.”

He chucked a rag at the man who was in his cot and pulled on his uniform. He didn't even know his name. He just wanted to fill that ragged hole in his chest. The emptiness. The nothingness. The knowing he'd never be whole.
He used to be worried about flaunting himself and finding comfort in a warm body when he first arrived in this hellhole but his superiors looked the other way. He was too good at what he did for them to make a fuss over it. Too good at killing and not dying. Too good at dancing in blood rain.

He stepped out into the everlasting snow and made his way across their home base toward the large tent where the generals and commanders holed up with maps and plans. None of them had seen battle in years and it showed.
They watched him come through the tent flap with mixed faces of concern, annoyance, and…pity?
He was handed a letter. The stamp of a hospital was on the envelope. The return address was Boston and he felt the dread build in his chest.

Dear Corporal W. T. Rake,

It is with great sadness that we are writing to inform you of the unfortunate passing of your parents. Col. W. Rake and Mrs. L. Rake passed away in the early hours of February 10th 2065 after a motor vehicle collision.

We have been unable to contact you regarding the finer details. Feel free to either call or reply to this letter with the return address as printed.

Our sincere condolences,

Dr. M. Rowle.
Medford Memorial Hospital
Boston
Massachusetts 

“My brother?” He asked, keeping his face in complete neutrality. Is he alive? He’s just a baby. Please don't let him be dead or hurt. Please please please. 

“In the care of the State. When your mission is over, you are free to arrange alternative care for him.” One commander replied.

He nodded, “ETA on mission end?” I can't leave him alone. My best friend. My brother.

“One year.”

He nodded again and was dismissed back into the snow. Visions of his brother crashed into him. When he was born, when he learned to walk, when they climbed trees together. So small and fragile. A year. He was trapped too far away from him. He’d promised he’d always be close to him. So he wouldn’t be lonely. He raged and went back to the man in his cot.

***

He thought that maybe he'd been forgotten. His birthday came and went twice with no news of his brother. 
Now ten years old, he found solace in books and magazines and rarely left his room. He rarely ate. He never spoke and no one spoke to him. He'd stopped crying about it a long time ago. Instead, he'd wake up gasping and shaking covered in sweat. The tally on the wall got bigger and bigger with each passing day.
It was so loud in the orphanage. The children screaming and playing or crying. The noise vibrated up through the floors and in the walls. He could feel it all the time. His head hurts and sometimes he felt like he couldn't breathe. He remembered his parents had a medicine for him but they weren't there now to give it. The picture of them on the bedside table mocked him.
They called him a freak and laughed at his unmarkedness when they showered. Boxed his ears and pinched his pale skin.

Unmarked freak. 

Poor little orphan with no one! Not even a name!

Before his parents had died, he'd attended a school where he'd had friends. He couldn't remember their names anymore. Now he doesn't go to school at all. He didn't even go outside. His pale skin turned sallow. His blonde hair almost white.
He just sat in his bare-bones room and waited. And waited. And waited. Why hadn’t he come yet?
He didn't cry. He didn't speak. He didn't make a sound. Quiet.

Then, one sad rainy day, the matron of the house came to his room. The old woman never knocked or warned him she'd be coming in. Every time it made him jump and he'd scowl at her with icy eyes through his pale fringe. She gathered up his picture and his flag and shoved them at him.

“Come.”

He hated her. Her stupid wrinkled face and deep frown lines. Her stupid grey hair that was tied too tight on top of her stupid head. Her emotionless dull eyes rolled at him when he didn't move fast enough. She gripped his upper arm and led the way.
They walked down the grim hallway, kids lined up on the sides to make way for the matron. The boy stumbled as one of them tried to trip him but he ignored them. 

“Is he being adopted?”

“Him? No. Who would want that freak?”

Maybe the matron was taking him somewhere where it wasn’t so fucking loud.
He followed her to her office but, before she opened the door, she turned to face him, “Keep your mouth shut. Let the adults speak.” She didn't have to tell him. She knew he wouldn't speak.
The door opened and he felt the breath leave his body. 

There, on a chair too small for his huge frame, was his big brother. Pale haired and rugged with slightly darker scruff on his scarred face. That face was tight with worry and fear and stress and the shadows of war. He stood quickly crossing the room in big long-legged strides and scooped him up into huge muscled and scarred arms. He was so scarred .
Then, his brother spoke, bumping their heads together softly, and he let himself cry for the first time in over a year, “I'm so so sorry. We’ve been looking for you for ages and they wouldn’t let us see you until we could prove you’re ours. The amount of paperwork…”

He didn't care who we or ours was. He just wanted to go home. To Sanctuary. His head felt like it was in a vice.

“Okay, we'll go. Do you have anyone you want to say goodbye to?”

He shook his head, clutching the flag and the smiling faces of his mum and dad. His brother frowned, holding him tight in his arms. He glared at the matron and called her a fucking bitch and said, “You’ll be hearing from me again, Ms. Oleander.” Before carrying him out into the rain. He hummed a little tune into his ear to soothe him. He always sang.
He was bundled into the back seat of a car and a dark skinned beautiful woman in the front passenger seat turned and smiled at him. It was a cold smile and he instantly felt a trickle of fear, “I can't believe we finally have you.”

His brother climbed into the driver's seat, face grim and frowning, “This is Nora. Your…sister-in-law. Get comfy, we're going home.”

He curled up on the backseat and let himself cry quietly. Finally, finally he was going home. Finally it was quiet.

***

He sat at their kitchen island, Grognak comic and bowl of cereal in his hands. The early morning sun filtered through the windows and the dust motes dancing in the rays caught his eye as they glinted.
He twitched as Codsworth floated around making coffee and baby bottles and handed Will the newspaper. His brother looked over at him, icy blue eyes that matched his own swimming with nerves and impatience. He had a veterans thing tonight. He used to sing when they were younger. He hadn’t heard him sing in such a long time.

“You at work today?”

“Hmm.” He nodded, staring back down at his cereal and comic. A hand waved in his face and he looked up with a frown and a raised eyebrow. What?

“You have time to come to the park with us?” 

He'd rather stick pins in his eyes than go to the park with his brother and the baby-trapping narcissistic woman he called wife , “Uh, no. Early start.”

“When's therapy?”

“Jeez, tomorrow. I'm not a kid, Will.” He had just turned twenty after all.

“You'll always be my kid to me. Please, keep going, we pay a lot of money for her…”

He rolled his eyes. Will paid a lot of money for everything. The last ten years living with him, he'd wanted for nothing. Will had paid for his braces, surgeries, medical expenses, schooling. They went fishing and rock climbing. Will paid for his clothes, his food, his hobbies. Everything. But it didn't fill the empty holes in both of them. The hollow emptiness. God, it was so loud here. The noise and pressure of this place made his skin crawl. His head swam. Pain pulled at him. He wanted to scream. He was so empty. He just wanted some goddamned quiet.

He kept his face neutral, stood silently and sighed, “I know, Will. I gotta get ready.”

Will pat his back as he went to his room. Dark soothing green paint, model robots, posters of his favourite comics and deconstructed diagrams of rifles. The usual things you'd find in a young adults bedroom. Hands shaking he checked his bag and made sure he had everything he needed. Work access pass around his neck, paperwork, spare clothes, wallet, condoms. His brother didn't know he'd be home late after his…date. Was he nervous? He wasn't sure. Maybe a bit. Will told him to try . Try and find another unmarked person to create something with. A friend if not a romantic partner. His therapist also told him to try. Find a woman to settle down with. He scoffed. Neither needed to know that finding a person to spend time with wasn't the problem. It was the sneaking around and fear that was. The emptiness. The sick feeling of having someone that wasn't his. Not destined by fate like normal people. Besides, he didn't need a friend , he had Will. He popped some aspirin with the plan to get some Med-X at work and waited for the pill to ease off the pain in his head.

A cough from behind him had him turning slowly. There she stood. Perfect Nora. With her perfect skin, perfect hair, perfect job, and perfect baby. The only thing that marred her was the thin white scar on her wrist of where her mark had faded after its owner had died sometime before she was five. Some poor guy called Nathan. At least he wasn't trapped with this woman. He slowly pulled his hoodie over his favourite Grognak t-shirt as she spoke, “Did you do all your paperwork?”

He nodded and frowned at her. She'd got him this job at Med-Tek research and liked to lord it over him. She also wanted him to bring information home because she was a part of the legal team currently trying to sue Med-Tek for some crap in repayment for her getting him the interview. She made his heart race uncomfortably. He could feel it trying to lurch its way out of his chest.
He had wanted to join the army like his brother but they wouldn't have him. Something about draft numbers and family ties, being unstable and trauma and other bullshit. He knew his brother had talked them out of taking him, using his rank and sway to keep him out of going to war. Once the draft started in Boston, he'd have to go so why put it off? God, his head hurt. The migraine was a nagging tug now. He needed some Med-X. Some fucking relief.

Nora came into his room, the baby held tight against her shoulder. She squeezed his arm hard and reveled in his wince, “Remember, I need something solid on a holotape.”

He jerked his arm away and forced down another wave of panic, “I know.” He felt sick. Every time he went to work he had to steal something. It wasn't the stealing that disturbed him, he was good at that, it was the knowledge it was giving Nora. And, he liked his boss and felt bad being there under false pretenses. He was good at research. Good at medicine and numbers and building things. They told him he was a prodigy after he'd gotten his degree at fifteen. Was destined to help people and create the cures for humanity all over the world.
His brother was the brawn and he was the brains. 
Maybe he shouldn't be a soldier? Maybe that's why his brother put a stop to it. He was small and wiry and Will said he was too clever to be put on the front line.

“Good. Hold Shaun for me.”

“I really need to get going…” She ignored him and pushed the baby into his arms. He had darker skin and curly black hair, taking some of Nora's colour. But he had ice blue eyes like himself and Will. 
The panic was clawing at him now. He really needed to go. Really needed to find some quiet before work.

Okay. Five…four…three…two…one.

Five things he could see: dust in sunlight, the curly head of Shaun, green paint, rifle poster, bedroom door. Four things he could touch: baby, hoodie, boots, lighter in his pocket. Three things he could hear…the baby cooed and he gently pat his little legs, “Hey, baby boy. Don't worry, maybe we'll get lucky and your dad will finally get that divorce he's been threatening to for years, hmm?” The baby grabbed his finger and he just enjoyed the quiet moment with his nephew. Smelling his head and kissing him to complete his mantra. No matter who his mother was, he was Will's son and he loved him for it. He liked kids. Wanted his own one day. They didn’t care about who someone was or what they’d been through or what they had to do. If you were nice to them, they tended to be nice back.

Will started shouting from the living room, “Come on! We have to go!” There was panic in his voice and he rushed out into the living room, baby held tight to him, “The Vault! Run!” Will was shoving him out into the street and Nora took Shaun from him.
They ran.
He looked at Will and his face was frightened. More frightened than he'd ever seen in the ten years he had been with them. More frightened than when he'd picked him up from the social housing after their parents had died. More frightened than when he realised the pair of them would never have “perfect love” like their parents did. That they’d be hollow . More frightened than when Nora had gone into labour.
He tried to keep up but he was shorter than Will and Nora. People were pushing in the panic, shouting and screaming. He was shoved and stumbled forward over the bridge. Will grabbed him by the arm and dragged him along up the hill. The army was everywhere. Then, when they were at the gate, more soldiers blocked their path. His neighbors were crying.

“Adult male, adult female, infant.” The guard shook his head at Will. He’d never seen someone from the army say no to his brother. It just didn’t happen.

Will glared at Nora. She had done the paperwork for the Vault. She knew he'd need to be on it to get in with them, “Let him in or I'll rip your guts out with my teeth, private. ”

The man paled and nodded, “Of course, Commander. Sure thing. Let them through!” No one said no to Will.

They were pushed through the gate and suddenly stood on top of the great metal door that would take them down with some of their neighbours. A golden one-eleven was emblazoned in gold beneath his feet.
People were crying and shouting. Begging to be let in but then men in Power Armour were blocking the way.

He felt it before he saw it. A vibration in the air that rattled him. He could tell no one else had felt it because they only looked up when a blinding light lit up the horizon near Boston proper. A huge orange and white mushroom. Clouds turning to ash and smoke and black. Roiling fire rippled out of it like the arms of death. The subtle change in temperature that quickly climbed to near burning, and then the horrific vibration that threatened to knock his knees out as they shook. He wondered, briefly and morbidly as he watched death approach, if he concentrated, would he be able to hear Boston scream. His head roared at him. 
The ground moved and dragged them down into the dark. He felt the air above them as it shook and churned and he felt sick. Death’s hands so close but passing over them and destroying all and everyone they knew. He shuffled closer to Will and his brother wrapped his arm over his shoulders, his deep voice mumbling, “It's okay. We're safe now.” So many people were dead. He imagined he could feel the earth cry out as so many souls left her. So many white scars appearing on people as their names were burned away into dust and radiation and ash.
He didn't feel safe . The air felt cold and tense and the people in the blue suits and white lab coats waiting for them were off. The metal ground echoed their footsteps and threw him off balance. The air pressure didn’t feel right. There were no dust motes in shafts of sunlight down here. It was so loud. He grabbed onto his brother's sleeve and held tight and fought to draw breath. Will frowned and tried to soothe him with a rub to his arm. Nora lay a hand on his back, keeping up appearances, and he didn't have the energy to shrug her off.

They came to a room that was freezing cold and Will had words with another man in a white coat. The man's eyes flickered over him before shrugging at Will, he heard the man say, “We don't have space, but he's small. He'll have to sit on your lap for decontamination. The infant can stay with his mother.”
They had to get changed into a blue suit like the others from Sanctuary. His was too baggy and Will's was too tight. He zipped it up with shaking hands over his clothes, he didn't want these people to know he was unmarked. They felt wrong . Will had no such reservations. Stripping down and baring his perfect scarred alabaster skin. He shook his head and swapped his trainers out for the shiny black boots provided. Those fit at least.

Five things I can see…

Will had a quick word with Nora and gave Shaun a little stroke on the face to help soothe the whimpering baby. He wanted to pat his head but couldn't bring himself to interrupt. His brother turned to him then, “Ready?” He could only nod and follow him to their pod. A weird metal and glass thing. It reminded him of a walk-in fridge. He felt the cold coming from it and tensed as he settled on his brother's knee. One arm reached around and held him by the waist, “We'll be okay. I won't let anything happen to you.”

“Okay…”

Four things I can touch…

He saw Nora look up at them after Shaun finally settled in her arms. He felt Will tense behind him and then he was so cold.
Colder than he'd ever been in his life. It bit into his skin, seeped into his bones. He felt his lungs freeze. They seized and he couldn't breathe. He tried to hold onto Will, sinking his fingers into the arm frozen around his middle as hard as he could.

Three things I can…

He couldn't move and everything went white.

Two…

One…

***

He's had a name on the skin of the hollow of his throat for as long as he could remember. The handwriting was scratchy and jagged, like it had been put onto him with a knife.
It was oddly cold to the touch and always slightly numb, but it wasn't a white scar so he knew the person wasn't dead. The name was almost as long as his own and he kept it hidden always with his scarf. No one flaunted their names. No one revealed who they were. Ever. You'd know them when you met them, something inside would let you know, and it was no one else's business. There were people out there who'd use your name against you and he wouldn't give anyone the opportunity. Ever .
He'd taught the younger kids at Little Lamplight just that so they'd be prepared for when they aged out. For when he aged out himself at sixteen.

He never showed it to anyone. Not even Lucy, a woman he’d met on the road a short while after he’d left Little Lamplight. She'd shown him hers, a white scar over her hip. He didn't bother to memorise it and envied her for being free. Envied her for the freedom she had in feeling unburdened when she'd finally managed to get him into bed. He’d tried to kiss her once, just for some fucking human contact, but it never felt right so they never tried again. He didn’t even know if he liked women like that. The name on his skin is a constant reminder that she wasn't his. She was his friend and traveling companion and that's all she ever could be.
They traveled together for a few years. Wandering from the Capital Wasteland and up the coast to Boston and the Commonwealth, just to see the sights, and back again. They were free and could go anywhere they pleased. She earned money as a medic, she mostly knew what she was doing, and he earned money with his rifle. They'd slept together again, one drunken weird night, then she told him she was pregnant and he felt the world pitch around him. They were scared and young and didn't even have a home . 

Duncan was born and he felt like nothing could go wrong. He felt invincible, as nineteen-year olds often do. They argued a lot and Lucy would only spend time with Duncan during his feeds. Otherwise, she'd be in a town doing God knows what with who knows who. But, they worked well together. Survived.
Until Lucy died in the metro station they'd been taking a shortcut through. He didn't know it was overrun. She was torn apart by ferals before he could even raise his gun. She screamed at him to take Duncan and run . So he did. His son cradled into his shoulder as he scrambled for the exit in the dark. And then he was alone with a baby and nowhere to go.
She'd been his one friend. The one person he trusted to watch his back regardless of their issues. The mother of his child. He had no caps. No one to watch his six. No way to feed his baby. It was a death sentence.

He wandered. Stopping off in whatever God forsaken town he could find in the Wasteland to get anything to feed the constantly crying hungry boy in his arms. He wasn't even one yet. He did whatever job he could. Kill this person. Steal this thing. Hey, kid, what else do you do for caps?
He was hungry most days, all his caps pouring into feeding and clothing his growing boy. Constantly sun-burnt from the Capital Wasteland. 

We should’ve died in the metro station with Lucy.

Until the few friends he'd managed to make and keep needed help on a farm they were trying to establish. They let him and Duncan settle. They had their own room and Val and Steve fell in love with the toddler.
He felt settled. Happy even with the emptiness inside. The name stayed cold at his throat but maybe he didn't need them to feel whole?

Then Duncan got sick. 

He had been playing in the fields by the farm and came back with a fever. Then sore and weeping blue and black boils erupted over his skin. His little body became weak and eventually he couldn't leave his bed. They spent every cap they could calling in doctors. Burnt every resource but nothing worked.
A youngish trader came by. Sinclair, he was called, told him about Med-Tek in the Commonwealth that had been working on miracle cures back before the bombs fell. Sinclair had planned to go himself for his Soulmate who had the same disease Duncan has but he'd died before he could get it. He thought the trader was pulling his leg until he mentioned the sores. Sinclair even had the codes for the building's lock-down which he handed over with a wave of his hand when offered payment, “Nah, pal. They ain’t worth shit to me now. May as well help someone else.” He pushed Mutfruit and Razorgrain at the trader anyway as payment for the codes. Nothing came for free, after all.

He traveled to the Commonwealth as quickly as he could. He doesn’t think he’d ever traveled as fast as he did that week. He barely rested. Didn’t stop to refresh supplies. He ran on adrenaline and nicotine.
He didn’t dare bring Duncan with him. The boy was too weak to walk and the journey may have killed him. Val and Dave promised to look after him and he swore to send anything he could to pay for his upkeep and to send letters. They promised to write back. He promised his son that he'd be a better person. That he'd clean himself up and be a good dad. That’s what kept him going as he moved further and further north-east. The blazing sun gave way to more overcast skies. It was nearing the end of summer and the famous cold of Boston would begin to set in soon. If he was quick and lucky, he could be back with Duncan before then.

He stopped off in Goodneighbor on the way and reconnected with Daisy, the ghoul woman who ran a trading shop there. They’d met a few times when he and Lucy had visited in the past and he'd done a couple odd jobs for her. She was worried for him. Sad for him. She gave him some food and ammo to keep him going, “Come back with that cure, ya hear? I’ll get you back to your boy with a caravan.”
He said his thanks and moved on. 
He made it to Med-Tek the next evening. Killed some ferals in the car park, ignoring the feeling of his skin wanting to crawl off of him. The only entrance to the building he could gain access to was the main front door. Imposing metal and stinking of the rot of ferals. He pushed it open and stepped inside the foyer.
He nearly died.

He’d need help to take on the sheer amount of feral ghouls in the place. He knew about a mercenary group called The Gunners that operated in the area. If he could get hired, maybe he could talk some of them into helping him out? They were mercenaries after all. Apparently, they didn’t ask questions and paid good money.
He found a squad of the group on the Mass Pike Interchange and it was maybe the biggest mistake he thinks he’d ever made in his short, sad life. 

As soon as he joined and showed them how good he was at sniping, they gave him a uniform. Fine. What wasn't fine was being made to strip at gunpoint in front of Winlock and Barnes. They checked every inch of his skin, touching and slapping and pinching, before ripping his scarf away and saw his name, “For collateral, MacCready . You understand.” Winlock had said as he rushed to get dressed again.

Barnes hummed and watched him with a sick sly grin. A big hand ran up his side as Barnes pulled him in close to whisper in his ear, “Go against us, kid , and we'll find him. Make you watch as we cut off his fingers.” He felt sick and nervous. This one name of someone who he'd never met but wanted to so desperately it was a constant pain in his chest. A hollow aching emptiness. A constant reminder that he was missing something. A hole that not even his son could fill. He didn't want these people to find him. He was his .

The Gunners weren't mercenaries. On paper, sure, and they worked for caps. But, they attacked settlements and innocent people just as often as they worked a contract. They were glorified raiders. Rapists. Cold blooded murderers.
One cold October night; maybe a month into his stint with them, he woke from a nightmare, bloodied and beaten and so fucking sore deep inside his soul, the hollow of his throat warmed and he touched the name. It wasn't numb for the first time in twenty years. He took it as a sign. He found his duster coat, scarf, and hat, and ran away. Fuck the Gunners. He’d find another way to help Duncan. He’d work for himself like he always had done before. He was better by himself. He'd promised to be better.
With his scarf back tight around his neck, he ran to the only place he knew for certain he'd be given sanctuary like any other drifter. Goodneighbor. He already had a mostly good standing there. Daisy would vouch for him and Mayor Hancock didn’t seem the type to ask too many questions.

He was right. Hancock didn’t ask too many questions. The Ghoul Mayor had seemed distracted sitting in the Statehouse and tapping his thigh. He listened to Daisy’s promises that he was “one of the good ones” and; after a little thought, some Jet, and more thigh tapping, he let him set up in the Third Rail to drum up business, “Of the people, for the people. Ya feel me, Mac?” Mac. Not RJ. Not MacCready. Not whore. The nickname made him feel a bit better.

The name on his throat stayed warm.

***

It was a nightmare. It had to be.

He was so cold and Nora was dead. A ragged bullet hole in between her big brown eyes. His brother was shaking over her body, a deep rage making him pull at her and take off her gold ring. He watched from where he stayed huddled on the floor. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t stop shaking on the ground where he’d fallen out of his brother’s lap when they had become unstuck from each other. He could feel the frostbite cracking in the creases of his skin underneath his stupid blue jumpsuit.
It was a bad dream. It was so loud .
A constant roaring in his head. The chattering of his teeth. The drip drip d r i p of pipes and people becoming unfrozen. The smell of iron and despair. The great metal tomb in the ground shivering as it warmed.
He remembered the ugly scarred man coming up to their cryo-pod. He’d said something to them but he couldn’t hear it because Will had been punching at the frozen glass in front of them. His panicked shouting was deafening in the small space and it jarred his brain. He could still hear him echoing in his head. The scarred balding man had laughed and left with the person in the hazmat suit carrying Shaun and they had frozen over again.
Shaun! He wanted to scream but he didn’t know if he’d made a noise. Five…four…three… He didn’t know how long he’d lay on the metal grating of the ground before Will lifted him to his feet.

“We have to go. We have to get out of here.” Will was in soldier mode. Fighting for their survival.

He tried to follow, tried to keep up as his big brother pushed on, but he was so cold and Will was so much stronger than he was. He still felt the ice in his veins. Felt the sharp icicles stabbing at him beneath his skin. His bones. His brain. The frostbite bit . The lights were too bright.
Eventually, Will lifted him onto his back and he held on tight around his brother’s neck. The vibration of his heavy breathing rattled through his own chest. His strong and fast heartbeat thudded through him as he picked up a security baton and the jump when a huge bug landed onto the window pane in a nearby wall.
He didn’t know if he screamed or shouted at the skeletons that littered the ground of the Vault. Will didn’t complain and all he could feel was his brother’s heartbeat.

He shut his eyes against his neck. Felt the motion of him hitting the bugs. Felt the strength of his muscles shift beneath him.

We’ll be okay. I won’t let anything happen to you.

They weren’t okay though. Shaun was gone. Lost. Taken from them.
He tried to spare a thought for Nora, even she didn't deserve to die like she did, but he just couldn't. It was too much.
He kept his eyes closed, forcing tears to remain unshed. He hadn’t cried since he was ten and he wasn’t going to start now. If he started, he’d never stop again. He felt a shift in the air pressure around them and opened his eyes. They were in the elevator that had brought them down into this hellhole not too long ago. Maybe three hours ago? Four? Will had a PipBoy on his wrist, its green light casting a sickly glow, and he had a gun in his hand.
He climbed down off his back and held his hand.

The ground above them opened up. Dust and dirt rained down on them and they shielded their eyes against the light. He heard Will choke back a scream. He felt his own claw its way up his chest and try to burst out of his throat. He kept silent as they looked out over the absolute and utter destruction of Boston. He tried to ask “what day is it?” but nothing came out. His throat was closed up as he kept in his scream so they just stared out at their ruined homeland. Five.
They just stared and stared and stared. He wasn’t sure for how long until Will shifted at his side and pulled his hand out of his unforgiving grip. Red crescents were on the back of his hand as he showed him the date on the PipBoy. He thought he was going to throw up. October 10 2287.
Two hundred and ten years. I’m two hundred and thirty.

“Come on.” Will waved at him to follow so he did. Four.

He grabbed for Will again. Holding on tight to the too tight sleeve of his blue jumpsuit with the golden one-eleven emblazoned on the back. He held on so so tight but Will let him. He grabbed his hand again as they passed the remains of their long dead neighbors still clustered around the gate they had been screaming and begging at. The gate that Will had got him through what felt like only a few hours ago. 

Two hundred and ten years.

Sanctuary Hills was a mess. Will squeezed his hand hard as they crossed the miraculously still standing footbridge and kept squeezing it as they rushed through their battered and destroyed neighbourhood. He squeezed it even harder, painfully, when Codsworth was there. Three.

He didn’t know what was said. He couldn’t follow what Will was saying and Codsworth kept calling him sir . He felt dazed and was pushed down to sit on the dead and wilted grass in front of their old house as Will and Codsworth wandered away to one of the nearby houses. He didn't fight it. Didn't want to wander their neighbourhood. It was ruined . His skin felt too tight and the chattering of his teeth still hadn't stopped.
He sat in the silence and waited. And waited. And waited. He thought about going to find Will but he knew he needn't bother, his brother always came for him. Never left him alone too long. Barely let him out of his sight even though he was an adult with a proper job and everything . He was more than an adult now. Two hundred years old. His pale skin was still smooth. His hair was still the same pale blonde. It hadn’t even grown. He didn't think he had any wrinkles. He still felt twenty. Two.

A hand waved in his face and he looked up at Will, blonde hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and something sticky and viscous on the blue jumpsuit, “Let's get inside. I need to change and make a plan.”

He was pulled up by the hand before he said back, “Plan for what?” At least his throat wasn’t clamping down around his voice box anymore.

“To find Shaun.”

It was a while later, in his old bedroom with the now chipped dark green paint, and he was watching his brother change. The blue fabric slipped down his back, blue and black mottling from frostbite marred his pale skin. He shouted and he was quick to grab him as he saw the name stretching down his spine in a neat cursive script. 

“What does it say?” He asked, hands shaking as he tried to twist to see it.

“Johnathan McDonough.”

Will waved at him to take off his clothes and he did so and found the name on his own skin, gliding over the left side of his chest in a messy scrawl.

“Robert Joseph MacCready.”

One.

***

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter :)
Let me know what you think xo

Chapter Text

It was the end of January, soft radioactive snow drifted down to the ground and collected into dirty slushy lumps. John Hancock watched the two newcomers to his town clatter through the gates with none other than Nick Valentine.
They were shivering, damp and dirty from the snow and roads. The big man, who had a large black and tan dog with him and was dressed in dark leather, had pale blonde hair that was swept back and he shoved the smaller one behind him as Finn approached them all. His piercing blue eyes were angry beneath dark brows and full of resentment as Finn discussed insurance with them.
Nick mumbled something to the big man but he was ignored. He watched as Nick wrapped an arm over the smaller one's shoulders and tried to guide him away. The big man's head snapped around to him and grabbed the kid's wrist with a scowl at the robot. Weird reaction towards someone as well known and liked as the detective. Hancock assumed the smaller one was a kid. They were short and completely covered up. Light black leather armour covered the dark jeans and hooded jumper he wore, a cap was pulled low over his face that was covered up to the eyes with a black bandanna. Hancock briefly noted the Minutemen insignia painted carefully on the leather at the kid's shoulder. The man dragged the kid roughly to his side as he glared down at Finn and that was when Hancock decided to intervene.

“Whoa whoa whoa! Time out!” The big man's eyes flickered over him and he saw Nick sag in relief, if a synth could feel relief, at the sight of him, “Nick Valentine makes a rare visit to town, and you're hassling his friend here with that extortion crap? Good to see you again, Nick.”

The synth tipped his hat, “Hancock.”

Finn whirled on his heel and practically growled at him, “What do you care, Hancock? They ain’t any of us.” 

The big man still had a tight hold on the kid. They looked eerily similar, two sets of identical bright blue eyes stared at him, even with the man being over a foot taller and built like a brick house. Father and son? “No love for your mayor, Finn? I said let ‘em go.”

“You’re soft, Hancock. You keep letting outsiders walk all over us, one day there’ll be a new mayor.”

He hummed at Finn and approached him with his usual easy going gait. Arms wide and a charming smile wrapping around his blood and gravel voice, “Come on, man. This is me we’re talking about.” He looped a friendly arm around Finn’s shoulders, “Let me tell you somethin’.”
Quick and deadly as a viper, he drew his favourite dagger out of its hiding place in his flag-belt and rammed it hard into Finn’s belly. Two fast and efficient strikes that had blood pouring freely and Finn collapsing to the ground in a bubbling gurgling moan.

Hancock cleaned off his dagger as casually as he was able, jet black eyes roaming over the two newcomers. The kid was watching him with wide eyes and completely ignoring the hand on his arm trying to pull him back behind the big man. Not father and son, he guessed, ”Now why’d you have to go and say that, huh? Breaking my heart over here.” He addressed the big man because he seemed to be the one pulling the strings within this motley group, “You alright, brother?”

The man just stared at him, ice blue eyes flickering through some deep well of emotion. The smaller one stood on his foot and the man glared down at him briefly before looking back to Hancock, “Uh…your face…somethin’ happen?” The smaller one was looking between them, rolling his eyes at the man's comment.

Ah. Brothers, his brain provided for him, “Like it? I think it gives me a sexy, King of the Zombies kinda look. Big hit with the ladies.” He waggled his not-there eyebrows for effect and the kid snorted from the big man's elbow. Nick was staring down the big man, orange eyes flickering down to the kid every now and then. What the fuck is happening here?
“I’m a Ghoul, you see? Lot of walking rad freaks like me around here, so you might want to keep those kinda questions on the low burner next time.” There was something going on with these two, and Hancock would be damned if he didn’t find out what it was, “Goodneighbor’s of the people, for the people, ya feel me? Everyone’s welcome.”

The man laughed, a rich deep baritone that mildly surprised Hancock with how easy it slipped out of him, “Of the people, for the people? Oh, brother…” He laughed again, shoulders shaking. The kid had narrowed his eyes as he continued to look between them both, eyes that matched his brothers flickering in annoyance as though he didn’t get the joke. Neither did Hancock, if he was being honest with himself.

Hancock watched as Nick took a step toward the kid again and the big man’s hand tightened even further around his arm. Laughter forgotten. It didn’t seem to bother the kid overly much so Hancock played along, “Ha ha ha? I can tell I’m gonna like you already. Just consider this town your home away from home…” The man was watching him with a cocky grin that Hancock didn’t mind, he thought it suited the man, “So long as you remember who’s in charge.” The man had the nerve to fucking wink at him.

He was about to make a dramatic exit but was stopped by the man’s deep voice that rumbled around him, “Whilst you’re being so helpful, Mayor , know where I can put the kid? Maybe someone trustworthy who can watch him?”

He looked at Nick, “You’re already in pretty stellar company, pal.”

The man dragged the kid along in his wake, the victim rolling his eyes and trying to pull away, “Yeah, but we have a job to do and I can’t take the kid with me. You know anyone who’s not a psycho, not on chems, and willing to work for caps?”

“Will, c’mon, he’s old enough to come with us!” Nick lit a cigarette in frustration.

Will shook his head at him but he didn’t seem as annoyed at the synth now, “By your standards he’s old enough. Not by mine. So,” He looked back at Hancock who was just dying to know what was happening. He could taste the story and drama in the air, “you know anyone who fits our needs?”

“Actually, I know just the guy.”

***

MacCready flopped down in the chair with a pit in his stomach and his hands shaking.
Winlock and Barnes were making their way out of the VIP lounge of the Third Rail where he’d set up shop and he watched them go. Barnes, the sick fuck, had rubbed the front of his pants at him and he was so glad to be in a busy bar in Goodneighbor. One shout and he’d have Hancock in here with his shotgun blasting and deadly knife flashing. He could feel the familiar panic building. The crawling over his skin and the sweat dripping down the back of his neck.

We'll find him, MacCready. Take any more jobs in the Commonwealth and we'll make you watch as we fuck and gut him.

Winlock shoulder checked a large guy who was trying to walk into the room and he watched with a frown as Barnes tried to grab the arse of the kid with him. The kid was covered head to toe in dark armour, a cap pulled down low over his face. The big man jerked the kid away roughly and squared up to Barnes like the man wasn’t one of the higher ups in the biggest gang in the Commonwealth, “You wanna keep that hand? Then keep it to yourself, sicko.”
The man’s deep voice rumbled like a storm and Barnes squared back up to him, trying to crowd him into the wall where the door stood. The kid was shoved into the room roughly and he nearly tripped over the door stop. MacCready went to stand to help the kid but the big man had already jerked him back up by the arm. He couldn’t see the kid's face, covered by a cap and black cloth as it was, but he was holding onto the guy's wrist with his free hand, knuckles white. He didn’t make a noise and Mac was thinking about reaching for his rifle to shoot the big guy but then Winlock and Barnes were gone and the man spun the kid around, hiding him from view somewhat. 
The two faced each other. He couldn’t hear what was being said but the man’s deep voice rumbled and hissed and the smaller one was shaking his head with an annoyed huff and looking everywhere but at him.

The man snorted at the kid and dragged him to sit directly next to Mac, pushing him into the seat a little too roughly, before looking down at the mercenary with the coldest blue eyes he’d ever seen. He didn't say anything for a long moment, just surveyed him like he was judging him.

Mac took initiative, “Look, pal, if you're here to preach Atom or looking for a friend, you've got the wrong guy. If you need a hired gun…then maybe we can talk.” He heard the kid beside him huff out his nose.

“Tell me who those fuckers are first.” He jerked his thumb at the door. He was frowning and his eyes roved over his body. Mac felt so exposed and suddenly self conscious of his beloved tattered duster and hat. The blue eyes landed on his rifle and he wanted to snatch it up and hide it away. It was battered but still worked goddammit. He stilled himself and tried to look confident. This could be a job and he needed to look put together.

He made his voice as relaxed as possible, “A couple of morons looking to climb the ladder of success by stepping on everyone else on the way up.” The guy crossed his arms and met his eyes when he spoke. Mac felt like the guy could see into his brain, “You shouldn't be surprised though. That's how it goes when you run with the Gunners.” The man hummed and Mac peeked out the corner of his eye at the kid. He wasn't a kid . He could see that now they were close and he had pulled the bandanna down off his nose and mouth. His palm was holding his chin, that had a light shadow of scruff on it, almost lazily and he had a bored expression of sheer contempt on his face. A young adult. He was smaller, smaller even than himself which was saying something. His blue eyes were the brightest he’d ever seen and he could see pale almost white hair peeking out beneath the cap. He was… pretty.

“Don't give a fuck about Gunners if I'm being honest with you. MacCready. ”

Mac's eyes widened at his name and the man beside him shifted almost imperceptibly with a little cough. Had he said his name yet? Did this man know who he was? Could this be a real job where the Gunners didn't scare the patron off? An actual job. He could send money home. Finally. He had to be sure though, “They have a reputation for being crazy. So tightly wound you'd think they were a cult or something. The money was good but I never fit in so I made a clean break and started flying solo.” He watched the man's face, he truly didn't seem to care about the Gunners and he still watched him with that piercing gaze. So, decided to go for it, “What about you? How do I know I won't end up with a bullet in my back?”

The man grinned then, his face shifting from murderous to almost cheerful in the blink of an eye, “You won't be working for me, kid. But that's always a risk right?”

Kid. He felt the nausea bubble up for a moment before forcing it back down, “Uh…can't argue with that I guess? Tell you what. Price is two hundred and fifty caps and there's no room for bargaining. What d’ya say?”

The big man looked down at the guy sitting beside him. The guy shrugged with a small head bob. He was tapping a repeating rhythm on his cheek with a lazy long finger. The big man fully smiled, straight white teeth flashing, “ Everything is negotiable. Five hundred caps. And equal shares of loot with our group.”

Five hundred caps . “Hey, man, I don’t know how they do it where you’re from but normally people bargain down, what gives?”

“I have a very unusual job for you, pal. Plus, Hancock sent me your way,” Hancock, “seems like the kind to get pissed if I give someone in his town a raw deal, hmm?”

Five hundred caps and a recommendation from Hancock . The two men were weird, like he wasn’t getting the whole picture behind them. Something was… off . He was getting a weird feeling low in his gut and he could feel all the nerves beneath his skin twitching. But, five hundred caps was five hundred caps so he shrugged and said, “All right, boss. Lead the way.” He stood and felt very small beside the man. He was all tall dark leather and tightly bound muscles. 

The man grinned and quickly handed over pre-counted paper rolled bunches of caps. All five hundred of them. No half now half later deal, “Like I said, you ain't working for me. But, fuck this up, and we’ll see about that bullet in the back, eh?”

Mac quickly nodded and, grabbing his gun and small satchel of all his meager worldly possessions, followed the pair out of the Third Rail and into the snow. They walked close together, the big man's hand wrapped tightly around the smaller ones arm, and whispered. The smaller one would wave his hands and the bigger one would rumble and shake or nod his head. He heard the bigger one say, “Fuck sake. I know. Be quiet.” And the smaller one went quiet. So quiet that his feet barely crunched in the snow beneath them.

He followed them over to the Hotel Rexford, up two flights of stairs, and into a large cleanish room. This guy must be swimming in caps . There were multiple beds along the walls, a stove, a window with actual glass in it, and a door that led to a private bathroom stall. Who the fuck are these people?
The smaller of the men sat down on one of the beds with a huff, kicking off his boots, shrugging out of his armour, and pulling a small pack out of a nearby bag. He looked like any other drifter really except cleaner . The bigger man rolled his eyes and also started to shrug off his armour before turning to Mac, “Now, listen and listen good. You’ve come very highly rated, MacCready, so I expect top performance. Understand?” The man’s shirt came off next and Mac was briefly amazed at the sight. Pale skin with scars and muscle stacked on top of muscle that rippled as he moved. The man backed toward the bed, his eyes staying on Mac’s. Oh…unusual job.

It wouldn’t have been the first time and he steeled himself against the crawling feeling under his skin and his suddenly sweating palms. Against the memories of Winlock and Barnes. Against that place. Five hundred caps will keep Duncan fed for weeks. “Uhh…of course, boss.” Those blue eyes were piercing him and he shrugged off his duster and took off his hat, brown curls spilling over his forehead, “Wh-where do you want me?” 

His blue eyes widened at the implication and held his hands up. The smaller man, who had knelt behind the guy on the bed, paused with a sharp and worried look at him and a brief shake of his head before his hands started gently doing something on the big man's bare back that had the man wince, “Whoa whoa whoa! Dude…nothing like that. Jesus.” Mac heard a weird snapping noise and looked at the smaller man again. He’d snapped a fine black string and threaded it through a needle before bringing the implement to the man's back and held him steady. Oh. He felt a small trickle of embarrassment snake its way into his brain. The big man huffed, “Ow…besides. I told you, I’m not your boss, he is.” His thumb jerked at the smaller man, “You’re to watch him.”

“Watch…my boss?” He felt awkward just standing there watching the guy get stitched up. 

“Mhmm. Do not let him out of your sight and do not let him die . You’ll get paid every week. You got it?” The big man flinched as the thread was pulled tight. The smaller man was administering a Stimpak now, the hiss filling the short silence between them all.

“So I’m babysitting?” Babysitting a grown man. What the fuck?

The man laughed again, “If you want to put it like that. But, be careful. He’s wily and he’s quiet. Very good at sneaking off, that’s why I’m hiring you. I can’t get what I need done and watch him twenty-four-seven. You see?”

The smaller man huffed and said, “I’m not a kid, Will.” His voice was lilting and light and it resonated somewhere deep in Mac's brain.

Will huffed, “Yeah, you are Xan.” Xan. Weird name. “So, you got it?”

Mac looked over at the men on the bed. Xan pressed a piece of clean cloth to the wound that Mac couldn’t see before wrapping it around Will’s chest and tying it off, “I guess? So, who is he? Your kid? Partner? Just so I know what I’m getting into.” He vividly recalled how rough Will had handled Xan and it didn’t sit right with him if the guy was his son or something.

Will laughed again, loud and hearty and so easily, like he did it all the time. Xan frowned at him with a look of pure disgust, “No! He’s my kid brother. Bit of an age gap, him being a surprise and all when I was like fifteen or sixteen.” He didn’t know if that made the man handling better or worse. Will pulled his shirt back on with a nod of thanks at his brother and began strapping his armour back into place.

The door opened suddenly with a clatter and Mac’s eyebrows almost shot into his hair. Nick Valentine and Mayor Hancock himself strolled into the room. Hancock swaggered around like he owned the place as usual and lay an arm over his shoulder, “Mac! Fancy seeing you here!”

Will rolled his eyes, “You literally suggested the kid, Hancock.”

“Oh, that’s right, I did, huh? You owe me, MacCready.” The Ghoul grinned from ear to ear, “Easiest and best paying job of your life.” He popped a Mentat and waggled his brow.

Mac rolled his shoulder to get Hancock’s arm off him and looked over at his boss to see if he’d be willing to back him up even the tiniest bit. His face was buried in a magazine, ignoring them all in silence, the hood of the jumper he wore under his armour was pulled up over his pale blonde head, and his knuckles were white around the comics pages. Nick was standing near the bed looking down at him with a head tilt and Will was watching Nick with a frown. He whispered to Hancock, “So, what’s the deal with these two?”

“Not sure yet, Mac. But I’ll be damned if I let this opportunity slip by, ya feel?” Hancock chuckled a low gravelly laugh, “Got a good feeling about this guy. Seems to have links to the Minutemen if I'm guessing right.”

Nick and Will had come back over from the bed, “Ready to get going?” He looked to Hancock, “Busy day ahead.”

Hancock grinned, “Let’s get this freak show on the road, Sunshine.”

They moved to the door before Will turned back to Mac with a serious expression, “I mean it, man. If you fuck this up. Bullet. Back.” He put his hand into a kind of gun shape and pretended to shoot with a cocky smirk. It was something that kids did to each other but it didn’t fill Mac with humour. It was a genuine threat.
Mac just nodded and watched the door shut. He looked over at Xan who had also watched the door before he slammed the magazine shut and stood. He was so silent, Mac could hear the man breathing. He could hear the neighbours downstairs. The people in the streets below them. Xan wandered over to the window, fluid and cat like, cracking it a little and lighting a cigarette. 

“So, uh, boss?” Xan didn’t look up at him, he just quietly took a drag on the cig in his mouth, his eyes shutting for a moment with furrow between his brows, “Xan?” Still no reply. Was he doing it on purpose? Proving a point? I’m your boss and I don’t need to answer to you? RJ felt the anger begin to bubble but squashed it down. No use getting fired on the first day, “Hey? You need anything or..?” Nothing. Just silence. Xan was frowning out at the street below.

Five hundred caps a week . Stay calm. Just find something to do. He nodded to himself and moved to sit in the chair at the desk nearest the bed his boss had sat on. He lit his own cigarette and began to strip down his rifle. Piece by love worn piece. It was soothing for him and it filled the time, “So, your name Xan? Just Xan, or you got a last name?” No reply, “My name's MacCready. Robert Joseph MacCready, but people tend to just call me RJ or Mac. You can call me either you’d like.” Nothing. 
He looked over at the man and nearly jumped out of his skin. He had moved in complete silence and was hovering near his shoulder watching him clean his rifle. A small frown on his face but blue eyes sparking with interest. Will wasn’t lying. He was deadly silent. If he'd had a knife he could have slit Mac's throat before he even realised what was happening. Mac shuddered at the thought before he held up a piece of his rifle so that Xan could get a better look, “Uh…you like it? You can have a look.”
Nimble long fingers took the rifle bit out of his hands and turned it over to look at all the parts of it. The welding, the screws, the paint job. He brushed a bit of old gunpowder off it as though he'd done it many times before. He was truly fascinated as he checked the point where the part clipped back on to the stock, picking at a bit of rust there, and Mac fought the smile on his face. He took the next piece of his rifle apart and held it out to the man, “This is the bolt handle…” Xan took the part and looked it over with a grin and a nod. Mac waited before handing him over the next piece, “This is a firing pin…oh and the receiver.” He didn’t speak but took the parts with small smiles and hums of approval. He was so pretty . He had very light freckles over his nose and temples.
Mac cleaned all the parts and started putting the rifle back together. Slower than he usually would so that Xan could watch, “So, what do you use? You give me knives in the dark vibes. Or maybe a pistol with a silencer?” No answer still and he looked round at Xan again. He was just watching the rifle, “Hey, man, you good? Cat got your tongue or something?”
Xan looked troubled, a confused expression on his almost perfect face. More than confusion. Some deep flicker in his blue eyes as he met his own for a moment before making a small humming noise in the back of his throat and lighting another cigarette, “Hello? What? Your brother says you're not allowed to speak to me or somethin’?”

He paused as he brought the cig to his mouth, “I’m not a kid, Robert Joseph MacCready. ” The way he’d said his full name had Mac turning back toward his rifle. His hands shook and he didn’t know why. He felt the flush climb his neck and cheeks. Fuck.  
Xan moved away and sat back on his bed. He pulled out two beers and placed one on the table next to Mac before turning back to his magazine. They sat in complete silence until Xan suddenly spoke again, making him jump, “I’m…good with a scalpel and that’s about it…”

Mac wasn’t sure if he believed him. He took a sip of the beer he’d been given and composed himself, “So, if you don’t mind me asking, boss . What’s with your brother?”

“Hmm. He’s got a lot going on.” His eyes were focused on the page in front of him.

“Oh? Guy seems loaded.” He gestured vaguely around the room.

Xan looked around with a cocked dark eyebrow, “Uh, I guess. He's always been good with money.” He guessed? Mac looked him over. Good boots by the bed, pants with not too many holes in, warm hoodie, and a not totally destroyed hat. And he seemed… clean. Pale hair that stuck up in all directions, clean face, straight teeth. Xan caught him looking and smirked, “Something interesting you, Robert?”

Mac felt his face flame once more and covered it with a gulp of his beer, “Fu-uh, you wish.” Xan chuckled.

***

He watched the man that his brother had hired to watch him. The man who’s name was printed across his ribs like a brand. He wondered whether he should tell him or not and cringed. It’d be so awkward . His own name would be on Mac somewhere. He could just say his full name? Introduce himself properly and then he’d know. But, he felt he should probably get to know the man first before adding that pressure to the first guy who looked his own age he’d met. He shut his eyes against the headache before looking at Mac again.

He looked…unwell. His skin was drawn a bit too tight over his face. Sunburn scars lightly peppered the top of his forehead, like he was rarely in shelter. And he was thin. Dangerously so for his height and it didn’t sit right with him. He was tatty. His duster coat threatening to turn to actual dust any moment. A ratty green hat over dirty brown curls that had two bullets in the band. Knee high busted boots over patched and frayed jeans. He wore bandoleers of bullets and satchels. A green scarf was fastened tight around his neck regardless of the relatively warm room. He watched Mac finish putting his rifle back together and sip at the beer he’d given him before deciding that he liked the guy. He had a nice face, hardened by life in this time as it was, and he seemed to like talking.

He got up off the bed, pleased when Mac didn’t notice, and moved to their supply of food and drink. He quietly found a few bowls and a pre-prepared metal container of some kind of stew Mama Murphy had made. It was good for him to have something to do anyways, even something as simple as making food. He put the container on the fire of the stove and waited, watching for the steam to spill from the edges of the lid that had kept it from spilling in their bags as they travelled. He looked over at MacCready and grinned. He still hadn’t looked up from his rifle. Good.
He poured the now hot stew into the bowls, placed a spoon in each, and quietly padded over to hover just behind the mercenary.

He tried to mimic his brother's low rumble, “Hungry?” He felt a deep well of satisfaction when MacCready jumped and spun quickly in his chair.

He had big blue-grey eyes that were wide with shock and quickly narrowed in suspicion, “Uh, what do you want for it?”

“What do I want for it?” It’s just stew? “What do you mean?”

Impossibly, his eyes narrowed further, “How much do you want for it? I don’t have anything on me to trade.”

Oh! He’d almost forgotten where he was for a moment, “Nothing. It’s part of your pay. Will said five hundred caps and equal shares in loot. Food is loot.” Mac carefully accepted the bowl and took a bite. Xan hummed happily and sat back on his bed, pulling his magazine to him again, “There’s drink and snacks too, help yourself as you please.” He didn’t like how thin he was. How troubled he looked. How world weary he was.

“Thanks…”

“How old are you?”
“How old are you?”

They’d asked the question in unison and grinned at each other. Xan waved a hand for Mac to answer first, “Twenty-two…ish? Twenty three?” He didn't sound certain but Xan didn't mind.

“Twenty… ish .” Xan replied. He pulled out another magazine and saw Mac follow the movement, “You like reading?”

“I actually really like Grognak.” Xan smiled and pulled off his hoodie, revealing the now battered and stained Grognak shirt beneath it. He was grateful that he ignored the bruises on his arms, though his eyes did flicker over them, “No way, where did you get that?”

“Will got it for me a long time ago.” He pulled the hoodie back on, too cold to go without, and went digging through his bag. He pulled out the books and magazines he'd managed to scavenge over the last few weeks whilst he'd followed Will around the Commonwealth, “Wanna read one?” He held one out and Mac nodded. Xan patted the spot on the bed beside him and almost laughed at the flush in the guy's face.
He watched him stand and move about the room. Locking the door, shutting the window, a serious expression on his young face. Then he sat on the bed, a little distance between them and picked up a Grognak comic.

They sat like that for a while, sometimes reading over each other's shoulders, sharing a cigarette and Nuka-Cola. And, for the first time since the bombs dropped, maybe even since before if he was being honest with himself, he felt happy . The man who's name was scrawled on his ribs had a quiet warm laugh that made himself chuckle. It was so blissfully quiet for the first time in months. The pain in his head easing for the first time in weeks.
He saw Mac's eyes grow heavy, becoming unfocused as he tried to concentrate on the reading or conversation.

“You wanna sleep, Robert?”

“Hmm, yeah okay.” He was flushing again as he looked at the few beds around the room, “Where?”

“Whichever bed you'd like, dude.”

He got up and chose the bed closest to his. He held his rifle tightly before placing it on the desk beside him.
Xan watched him lay down, a furrow between his eyebrows that slowly smoothed as he fell asleep. He must've been exhausted. He hummed and lay down, letting the quiet wash over him and falling asleep himself.

He woke up to a shift in the air around him and the smell of cigarette smoke. A different tang of tobacco to the ones he and Mac had smoked earlier.
He opened one eye and jumped at the sight of glowing orange eyes and the ragged face lit up by the ember of a half burnt cig.

“Fuck, Nick!”

His shout woke up Mac who bolted up straight and had his rifle in his hand so quickly he almost missed it, “What the fu-hell, Nick!?”

The robot looked over at Mac and mumbled, “Just checking in, Mac.”

“You can't just watch people sleep, man! It's creepy as…creepy!”

Nick shrugged, still standing close to the bed that Xan was slowly sitting up in. Five. Maybe having a guy with a rifle constantly nearby wouldn't be such a bad thing after all. Mac stood with a frown, rifle still held in front of him, and sat on the bed beside Xan, “It's my job to watch him. Where's his brother?”

It's my job.

“Following up on a lead.” The robot watched him as he took a drag on the cigarette. Did he even breathe? How could he smoke? “We're moving up to Sanctuary tomorrow.” Four.

“Okay? Why aren't you with Will?” Mac's rifle was held almost casually between them and Nick but Xan could feel the tension in his shoulder from where they pressed against each other. Three.

“Just thought I'd check in on the kid.” Mac's shoulder tensed further. Some deep shiver and tightening.

“He's not a kid. He’s twenty. And it's my job.”

It's my job.

The robot shrugged and began to leave, “You're just a kid yourself, Mac.” The door shut behind Nick and Xan sagged in relief. Ever since Hagen the guy had been acting weird. Following him around as though he had something to say but didn't quite know how to say it. So he just stared and… hovered . It was unnerving and Xan knew that Will hated it too. But they needed the robot to help them find Shaun. He'd put up with it for his nephew. The migraine was pulling at him again. Two.

Mac turned his face to him, so close that Xan could feel his breath brush across his cheeks, “That's so weird. I've never seen Nick act like that. All creepy synth guy instead of cool detective.”
Xan just nodded and tried to focus on anything other than how close Mac's face was. His eyes flickered down to his mouth and he had to lie down again to get away. 
Mac got up and made sure the door was locked again before pushing his bed in front of it. He sat back down next to Xan and whispered, “You sleep, I'll keep watch.”

Xan couldn't sleep. Instead, he watched Mac through half lidded eyes. The man sat completely ramrod straight, eyes on the door and head minutely turning to various sounds he could hear. He had his rifle held in his lap and Xan felt a little jealous. In the months they'd been here, in this time, Will had barely let him fire a shot from a pistol or even hold a knife. His brother would let him mod the guns though, so there was that.
He was a sitting duck in this new wasteland of a world with only a man barely older than himself for protection. He saw Mac's mouth tighten at something he'd heard and Xan could feel the movement of him vibrate on the mattress. Could smell him, cigarettes and gunpowder and struck matches. Like fireworks or a bonfire.

One.

***

Hancock frowned around the chalky menthol taste of the Mentat in his mouth. Piper had shown him a copy of her Publick Occurrences paper and the story had him chewing over whether he'd maybe bit off more than he can chew with the new guy. He wanted to get out of Goodneighbor for a bit so he didn't go soft. Not fight a fucking war. Though seeing Bobbi-No-Nose’s face had been fucking priceless when she saw the mayor himself walking into his strong room. Even better when Will casually shanked her from behind.
And then there was the Minutemen aspect. Will had caps on caps, chems, armour, weapons. He wondered what sway the guy had with the do-gooders of the ‘Wealth to have everything he did.
He kept watching out the window for Nick who had grumbled about doing a perimeter check of the little shop they had holed up in for the night. He had been gone a little longer than expected but he knew the old Synth could handle most anything the Commonwealth could throw at him. The gossip Piper had thrust at him to read was troubling. Two brothers out of time and hunting down the Institute? Seemed like the ramblings of a crazy person and Hancock wasn't sure if he fully believed it or fully believed it because it was so wild no one could come up with it.

He heard Will shuffle behind him and the sound of a can of old dog food opening for his dog, appropriately named Dogmeat. The dog huffed and the sounds of him eating filled the little space.
Will came up to stand beside him and hummed, “No sign of him yet?”

“Nah, but don't worry, take more than a random raider to take down Nick.”

“Not worried about him. More worried about where he's gone.” Hancock looked at him and the man had a deep frown on his face, “Why do you think I hired that kid to watch Xan?”

“Because your brother kept sneaking off in the night?” Hancock lit a cigarette and held it out for them to share. Will accepted, taking a deep drag before handing it back. It surprised Hancock, not many people would share a cigarette with a Ghoul.

“Hmm, but also because of Nick. Dude won't leave him alone and it's bothering me.”

Dude . “Ah, Sunshine, Nicky ain't like that.”

“Yeah? We'll see.” Another drag of the cig, “Is MacCready really that good? He seemed…worn.”

“Mac's the best shot in the Commonwealth. Stand up guy. Sure, he's a bit…stretched thin, but he'll stick with your brother if the caps keep flowing, Sunshine.”

“Ha, not worried about him not sticking around.” Hancock cocked a brow at that, “What's with the Sunshine anyways?” He nudged his shoulder with his. He had a good feeling about Sunshine.

Hancock smiled at him with a shrug, “Fits your sunny countenance.”

Will snorted before turning away again, “I need to change. This shirt has more blood on it than I think I have inside me at this point.”

He moved away towards his bag and Hancock watched. The guy was attractive and he wasn't gonna give up the chance to see him strip. He felt weirdly drawn to him, like something was telling him that he needed to stay near him. It was a sappy thought but Hancock had never claimed to not be a little sappy.
The man pulled out a fresh neatly folded shirt from his bag and began taking off his boots, kicking them off before pulling out new black cargo pants. His stained and bloodied pants came off first, revealing heavily muscled and scarred thighs and perfect pale smooth skin. Hancock took a drag on the cigarette and just enjoyed the view as the thick muscles rippled before being covered up again by the fresher clothes.
His shirt was next, a sliver of skin on his lower back before the whole thing was quickly ripped off and Hancock suddenly had to force himself to breathe.

Johnathan McDonough

His true name was scrawled in his own neat handwriting down the man's spine.

“Fucking hell , Sunshine.” It came out a rasp and he felt the name at the top of his thigh burn like it had done months ago after it had been numb and cold for all his life.

The new shirt slipped over skin as Will turned to face him, swaggering back over to the window, “See something you like, Hancock?” He had a cocky smile on his stupid perfect scarred face.

Yes. Finally, I've found him . All his life he has been searching and waiting and wanting . Filling the hole inside with chems and fighting and then running from it all. From everything including his own face in the mirror, “William Thomas Rake.”

The man's eyes widened as he looked down at Hancock, “Huh?” Hancock quickly undid his belt and flag and began shoving the offending fabric of his pants down his leg, “Whoa! Whoa, dude!”

William Thomas Rake

Will paused as he stared at his name on the ravaged skin of Hancock's leg. He reached out a tentative hand and his fingertips barely brushed along the letters but it felt like electricity shot down Hancock's spine.

“ Fuck .”

“Fuck is right, Sunshine.”

***

<3

Chapter Text

Bad luck and misery had followed MacCready like a hungry hollow thing. A monster that clicked at his heels and held his throat with sharp claws. Pinching and drawing blood with every breath he took.
But today felt different. Pockets light of caps after sending the five hundred home to his son, Mac followed the group through Goodneighbor for a while whilst Will concluded some business. He stayed by Xan as he was told and was impressed when he saw his deft hands pick up random items around the town and pocket them without anyone else realising. Mostly small things; a few caps, cigarettes, a Stimpak, and the like. If people cared about the stuff, they shouldn't have left it lying around. Xan rarely spoke but it didn't feel like a rebuff against him. More that the man was used to being quiet. He would frown around the town with absolute contempt but, again, it didn't feel like an aloofness. More of a mask. A protective coating.

They stepped out of Goodneighbor into the rapidly deepening snow that was sweeping the Commonwealth. They were moving vaguely north-west but the two brothers got distracted so easily it was astonishing.
Xan would tap Will's arm and they would venture into buildings willy-nilly and loot them to the bones. They'd also climb the faces of those buildings to get to roofs or, sometimes, just for the hell of it, grinning and chuckling together. Mac was expected to stay with Xan, which means he'd have to climb too. He had to admit, some of the views they found were nice, dangling their feet over high edges as they ate and talked about nothing in particular. Mac learnt that Xan, along with books and comics, enjoyed some music and sneaking cigarettes when Will couldn't see as a small form of rebellion. 
It seemed that whilst Will was definitely the brawn and leader of the group, Xan was the brains. In any fight they got into, most enemies were actually pointed out by the smaller brother from afar, Will would grip the smaller brother's arm tight before pushing him over to Mac and he’d find them cover. He'd seen the bruises on the blonde's arms and had to stop his mouth from shouting at Will. Will would also, sometimes, start singing . A lot of the time it was songs he'd never heard and other times it was to whatever was playing out of his PipBoy. He also noticed that after a fight or other stressful situation, Will would check in on Xan. Carefully checking him over and offering a Stimpak even though Mac never let anything touch him. Xan would wince and pinch the bridge of his nose.

One particularly hair raising fight had started out with Xan suddenly pausing in his walk with a hand up at Will. Will gripped, he was always gripping him, the back of Xan’s neck and the pair stooped to the ground. Xan pushed his hand through the snow and onto the concrete beneath. 

“What -" 

“Shush, kid.” Will murmured as he watched his brother turn his head to look east of them. His ice blue eyes were hard as he turned his face to an old playground not too far off and half hidden behind an old apartment building. Will’s head snapped round to look where his brother was looking and cocked his gun. Everyone followed suit. Xan was pushed toward him, he stumbled and Mac caught him with a frown at Will, “Kid, take Xan.”

Mac nodded and gently, much gentler than Will handled him, pulled Xan up and away from the playground to squat behind an old rusted car. As soon as they settled, Xan was pointing toward an alleyway just to the left of the playground. Will nodded at him and jerked his head at Hancock and Nick. They followed him around the corner of the apartment building and Mac and Xan sat in silence for one brief moment.
Gunshots started ringing out around them and Mac raised his rifle, resting it on the hood of the car and watching toward the loud firing of Xan’s brother and his friends. He felt a small hand touch the bottom of his back and stay there, the fingers gripping into the fabric of his duster with a small shake. He allowed the touch and kept watch.

He saw Hancock backing up around the corner again, shotgun ringing out twice before he ducked behind the building to reload. His face was furious and they saw him inhale some kind of chem before leaning around the wall and firing again.
Then, a huge Deathclaw tore its way around the corner with an ear splitting roar, claws slashing at where Hancock had just been leaning. The Ghoul was fast as lightning though and was already ten steps away. The hand on his back gripped the fabric of his duster tighter but he tried to ignore it as he aimed his gun. Fuck fuck fuck. He looked down his scope and fired. The racket of his rifle vibrated down him and he felt Xan flinch a little as his big eyes watched the Deathclaw. His bullet tore through the thing's jaw but it just seemed to make it angrier.
The giant lizard batted Hancock away as it spun to face the car they were hiding behind. It roared again and he heard Xan make a strangled noise as Will sped around the corner and launched himself onto the Deathclaw's back. It reached around itself and pulled the big man off of it, holding him up high by the neck as though he weighed nothing. Hancock moved in with a snarl and shot the Deathclaw's soft underbelly twice as it threw Will across the street.

He felt Xan stumble to his feet with a strangled “Ah!” and looked around quickly. Nick had come up behind them in the chaos and pulled Xan up by the arm. Mac reached and grabbed Xan by the wrist, pulling him back down to his side. A small glint in the smaller man's palm disappeared up his sleeve as he grabbed back onto his duster, “Nick! What the - ” Mac shouted at the synth.
The Deathclaw roared as another shotgun blast went off but Mac didn't dare look away from the synth. Xan was gripping his coat and staring at him, big eyes wide and angry. Mac quickly murmured, “It’s okay, I got you.” Another blast and yell went off and he quickly looked down his rifle, still angling his body toward Nick and hiding Xan behind him. He shot once and the bullet tore through the beast's eyeball. Will launched himself onto its back again and drove Hancock's deadly sharp knife into the back of its neck. It fell with a wet gurgle and breathy whine. 

When they were sure it wouldn't get back up again, Mac stood, Xan standing with him with hands still curled into his coat, “What the hell were you trying to do, Nick? He was in cover!”

Nick had his hands raised in surrender as Mac raged at him, “The Deathclaw was coming this way if you hadn't noticed, Mac.”

“And I had a round in the chamber! Hancock and Will were in its way. If I thought we'd needed to move, I would've moved him.” The hands in his coat stopped him from crowding the synth but he didn't have to as Will and Hancock limped over.

“What's going on?” 

“Mac's just a little over protective, is all.” Nick said as he lit up a cigarette.

Will sighed and dragged a hand down his tired and bleeding face, “That's what I'm paying him for, Nick. You should've been helping with the Deathclaw.” Nick shrugged and walked away toward Hancock who had a deep frown and was angrily popping Mentats, “I swear that dude has been acting weird since the Memory Den. Since Hagen, actually…” He looked over Xan who still had his hands gripping MacCready's duster, big eyes looking over at the Deathclaw with a furrowed brow, “Don't leave him alone with Xan, kid.”

“I won't, boss.” 

They huddled in a shop for an hour or two whilst Xan checked over Hancock and Will. 
Will had some bad bruising and gouges along his chest from the Deathclaw but Xan simply hummed and patched him up as quickly and efficiently as he could. Mac watched in fascination as he cleaned and packed wounds, sewing some, that glitter flicking from his sleeve and cutting the thread (Mac realised now that it was a scalpel), and using Stimpaks on others. He didn't know how the smaller man knew what to do for which wound but it was interesting. Normally, Mac just Stimpacked and prayed.
The same treatment was given to Hancock. Xan didn't shy away from his mottled and scarred skin and was just as gentle with his ministrations, though it takes him a little longer to check the bruising, so unused to the Ghoul's skin as he was. Hancock seemed surprised but accepted the treatment as Will mumbled at him and held his hand.

A night was spent in the ruins before they set off again at first light, looting and climbing as they went. A few hours passed as they walked and Mac was surprised when they stopped in a little settlement for the night. There was a Minuteman flag pinned to the wall of a medium sized metal and wood building and he was shocked when the settlers and farmers gave way to the brothers as though they owned the place. 
They stayed the night. Mac and Xan close beside each other.

The next night Mac was a minute away from asking what was going on. He'd watched the pair all day, trying to gather an idea about what it was they were actually doing. They whispered to each other, Will's hand tight around his brother's arm again, Xan’s eyes widening as he looked at Hancock who grinned back with his usual shit eating grin. The Ghoul walked close to Will the entire time, shoulders brushing together and Will’s hand stroking down Hancock's back every now and then.
The brothers carried on with their looting. Will showed parts and items to Xan who either shook his head or nodded. Some things were left behind, others packed away carefully into a pocket or bag. Medical supplies were scooped up with impunity.
So now he was sitting, watching Xan in a large settlement called Starlight as he moved around the space with his cat-like grace and usual frown. The pair definitely worked for the Minutemen but in what capacity he wasn't one hundred percent sure. Will would talk to the militia and guards, checking weapons and ammo and training schedules. And Xan would go around tinkering with turrets, or checking over people's various injuries. He even saw Will hand the smaller brother a pistol at one point and watched Xan as he stripped it and adjusted the sights before handing it back to Will. They both seemed to like people and animals, taking the time to scratch a cat's ears or listen to some random guy's problem.
Hancock would grumble as some of the settlers and guards would approach one or both brothers with hungry looks on their faces. They'd lean close, brushing their arms or backs, and Mac felt himself feel…jealous? Concerned? All the people who approached the brothers were gently brushed off with words like, “Oh, no, thank you.” or “Sorry, I'm a one person kinda guy…” and “My partner doesn't share.” That one made Hancock cackle and Mac rolled his neck.

Just as the sun was setting behind the buildings of Boston, Xan was bent over a turret with two children playing nearby. Watching and hearing the children play made Mac's heart hurt a little, they didn't seem much older than Duncan, but he brushed it off and did his job, watching Xan. The man was just rubbing oil streaked palms over his jeans with his usual frown in place as he peered into the turret, when one of the children tripped and collided with him. He lost his balance and landed on his arse with a oof and a lap full of five year old.
Mac winced, expecting the man to shout at the kid for playing so close to where work was happening. Instead, he watched Xan smile with a laugh and a gentle hand stroking the child's arm.

“You okay, little dude?”

“Sorry, mister Xander!” Xander. The kid's bottom lip was wobbling, a grazed knee dripping blood down his shin.

“Oh dear, let's go get you patched up, hmm?”

“O-okay…” The kid was gently put onto his own feet as Xan stood and carefully took the kid's hand. Mac got up to follow them to the small building used as a clinic. Xan kept smiling down at the boy as the kid rambled on about this and that, so patient and holding the little hand in comfort.
In the clinic, Xan lifted the boy up onto a table and rummaged around for what he'd need. Water, alcohol, gauze, Stimpaks. He patched the kid up, murmuring soothing words, and sent him on his way with a ruffle of the hair and a call to be careful.

Mac stood in the clinic watching him, “So, Xander, kids?” He didn't know why he asked but seeing him interact with the boy made him miss his own son something fierce and he needed to distract himself from the ragged pain inside.

“Hmm, yeah I think kids are cool. Why? Is it that surprising?”

“Everything about you is surprising.” Where the fuck did that come from?

Xan grinned at him, blue eyes roving over him, “Oh, really?” A pause where he just looked at him. Mac wanted to squirm where he stood, "Do you like kids?”

He couldn't help the heat that climbed his neck and face, “Uh, sure…”

“Want kids?” He asked it so casually and that ragged pain burst open again as Xan moved around putting various medical supplies away.

“Yeah…”

“Me too.” His smile was so wide. Blinding. He hadn't seen him smile properly over the last few days and the contrast to the usual frown was glaring. Xan stood in front of him, “Come on, let's get food and some rest. Sanctuary tomorrow.”

They ate and found a bed, sitting on it and pulling out the next comic of Grognak. After a while, Xan's head dipped onto his shoulder and he froze. He looked down at his sleeping face, pale lashes brushing his lightly freckled cheeks, mouth open a little. He put the magazine down, made sure his rifle was within reach, and scooted them to lie down properly. He probably should get up and move to his own bed but his body wouldn't let him. The warmth and weight of the man against him was comforting and non-restrictive. It was just there and he didn't feel that niggle of panic of being so close to someone. He felt weird. They'd known each other maybe four or five days but he felt like he'd known him forever. Something had just clicked and he felt… comfortable.

The name on his throat burned.

***

“Wonder what they're talking about?” Hancock grumbled to him as they followed the vault dwellers. They'd been walking steadily north for a few hours and the pair of them had been whispering to each other the whole time. Hands flapping and arms splaying wide as they argued and whisper-shouted, though their voices never rose too high to hear properly.

“I don't know.” He mumbled back, “Doesn't look fun though.” They were frowning at each other, sparks of electricity flying between two sets of angry blue eyes, “So what's going on, Hancock?”

His shit eating grin was back, “Care to elaborate, brother?”

“With you and Will, you both look…cosy.”

“Ah, that'd be telling.” He laughed and MacCready didn't think he'd ever seen Hancock laugh properly before.

“Oh, c’mon! I'm in the dark here! I have no idea what we're doing.” Hancock just laughed harder at him.

Nick rattled as he came up beside them, “Never mind Hancock and Will. What about you and the kid ?”

Mac frowned at the synth, “I'm just doing my job. And, he's not a kid.” Fucking creep.

“Job description involves cuddling?” Nick said it like it was dirty but Mac didn't bother replying. 
His mind went back to last night. How well Xan had fit in the curve of his body. How he felt so right tucked against him. He frowned and stopped his hand moving up to clutch at his scarf where the name remained hidden. He wasn't his.

Will's arms spread wide as he actually shouted, “Well fuck, Xander! What do you want me to do about it!? I can't watch you forever!” And then he shoved him. Hard . The smaller man stumbled backwards with a flinch before righting himself and staring his bigger brother down as Will approached, hands waving as he shouted, “Fucking grow up, Xan! I have enough to fucking do!” And he shoved him again. Xan hit the floor hard and glared up at his brother.
They stood dumbstruck at the sudden fight. Hancock groaned and ran in with Mac following to separate the brothers. Mac grabbed him around the waist, pulling him up as Xan shouted “Fuck you!”

Hancock looped his arm through Will’s and dragged him ahead as MacCready and Xan fell behind. He made sure that they were out of earshot before he asked, “You okay?”

“No.” He replied shortly. He was looking at the scrapes to his hands where they had caught the ground. Little blood beads forming along red lines. He wiped them on his hoodie with a small wince. After a while of glaring and mumbling to himself he looked at him, blonde hair falling into his blue eyes from out of his cap, “Will you teach me how to shoot?”

MacCready grinned down at him, “Sure thing.” Xan pat his back with a smile and kept his hand there, holding on carefully to his duster. 

It was hours later, sun high in the sky and the argument mostly forgotten, when they finally arrived at Sanctuary. A great wall with a massive metal gate stood in their way. Will raised his hand and the gate opened with a great creak and they followed him inside.

“Welcome home, General!” A dark skinned man in Minutemen regalia approached them quickly and shook hands with Will. The Minuteman went to ruffle Xan's hair as the blonde removed his hat but Xan dodged and stood slightly behind Mac, hands gripping his coat again.

General ? Mac frowned at Hancock for an answer but the Ghoul had come up to stand beside Will again, arm looping over the big man's hips. The dark man's eyebrows rose but he didn't say anything.

“Preston, how's everything going? Sturges build that purifier yet?” They began a slow walk up the street and Mac had to force his mouth to stay shut.
The settlement was huge . Buildings and alleyways, farms, generators, water. People. More people than Mac had seen in one place in ages. Men, women, children, and ghouls. They moved from building to building bundled in coats and scarves to protect from the cold. Kids played in a playground under the stern watchfulness of a dark haired woman. Many of the people were dressed as Minutemen. Heavy weapons and armour hidden under long blue and grey coats. They all gave way to Will and his group with nods or quiet hellos and thank yous. Again, hungry eyes followed them.

“Yeah, easy job for him.” Preston said as they strolled, "You get what you need?”

“Hmm. I have to go to the Glowing Sea. Gonna take Hancock, Nick and Danse with me in a day or two. Quick rest first.”

“The Glowing Sea? What for?”

“Someone there might know where Shaun is.” Mac didn't know who Shaun was but noted the down turned mouths as the name was mentioned.

“What about the kid?” Preston looked over his shoulder with a cocked eyebrow as Xan stayed walking behind MacCready.

“MacCready is gonna watch him. Make sure he doesn't try and wander off again.” Mac thought it was kind of unfair that they were talking about him as though the man wasn't standing right there.

“You hired a merc ?” Preston asked, the word sounding like acid on his tongue and Mac tensed. Xan tightened his hand in his coat with a glare at the Minuteman.

“Sure did, Preston. You got a problem?” 

“Need I remind you about the Gunners?” Fuck .

“No. Mac is gonna need a bed in Xan’s room in the house, we got a spare?”

“In his room? The merc and the kid?”

Mac rolled his eyes and couldn't stop his mouth running, “He's not a kid, man.” 

Preston turned to stare at him, “Excuse me?”

“He's twenty .” Mac shrugged and glared at Preston.

“See?” Preston whirled on Will again, “ He's twenty . You said so yourself that that's no age.”

“Mac is good people and I'm paying him good money to not take his eyes off Xan. Get a bed put in the room.” His voice had dropped into what Mac recognised now as his General voice. If the situation were any different, he'd have appreciated the big man coming to his defense but Preston had pissed him off and he fought with the boil of his blood.

“Aye, General.” Preston muttered before going off to get the job done.

Will moved his hand for Xan and he was quick to step up to his brother. Hands waving and urgent whispering happening and Will's hand was gripping the arm of his brother tightly again, “What a stick in the mud, hmm?” Hancock said as they followed the pair.

“Yeah, what's his problem?” Mac watched Xan's hands move. They were distracting.

“Gunners took down Quincy not long after you left, Mac. Not a sore you get over quickly.” Fuck .

“Fine! God, you're annoying. Go to the rocket after your work, and take Dogmeat with you. Send a flare if you're staying the night.” Will nodded his head at Mac, “Stay with him.”

He nodded back and followed his charge toward an old house with an assortment of scrap materials and workstations scattered around. He heard the clanging of hammers and whir of mechanical items being used. Xan walked into the workshop with his usual frown, twitching every now and then when a hammer banged and nodding at a few people who paused to watch him pass.
A large man stood in the middle of the chaos, muscled biceps as big as Mac's head and a handsome face. The man spread his arms wide and Xan accepted the hug with a small smile. Mac felt like his stomach had been punched.

“Ah, Xander, I've been waiting for you.” A big strong hand gently pat Xan on the back.

“Sturges,” Xan stepped back out of the hug and gently moved the big man's arm away, “show me what we've got.”

Sturges, stupid name Mac vehemently decided in his head, led Xan around the workshop showing off bits of scrap and half done projects. Mac stayed by the entrance and lit up a cigarette whilst he waited. He watched the way the pair interacted and every time Sturges leaned in toward Xan or tapped his arm he felt a sudden surge of possessiveness rush through him that he tamped down each time.
Eventually, they left the workshop, Xan promising Sturges he'd check on the progress of various turrets or traps at a later date. Mac decided that the least amount of time they spent in the workshop with the massive handsome engineer would be fine by him.

They crossed the settlement quickly and entered a clinic where a harried looking woman was fluttering around more medical supplies than what had been in Starlight, “Hey, Kenzie, how's it going here?”

“Oh! Sir!” Sir. That word directed at Xan sent a strange shiver down Mac's spine and he refused to acknowledge it, “I was just doing the count, a farmer injured himself last night and it took a few stims and gauze out of stock.” She kept her distance from Xan and Mac relaxed against a table, bracing against it with his hip.

“I'll make some more up before I leave.”

“You're leaving again, sir?” She seemed a bit worried at the prospect, “I heard the General is going to the Sea, will you need Rad-X and Radaway?”

“I'm not going with him, I'll be staying at the Red Rocket whilst he's away.” He moved over to a chem station, turned the burner on and started tinkering.

“Alone?” Her dark eyes flickered over Mac as though just realizing he was there.

“No, not alone, he's coming with me.” Xan gestured at him with a small grin, the frown falling off his face for one brief moment, “And the dog. Won't be far if you need help.”

“And…the General is okay with that?” Mac got the impression that settlers were very well aware of Will treating his brother like a child.

Xan rolled his eyes before he looked over at her, “That's what he hired him for.” Mac felt like he'd been punched in the gut again. Why? It was the truth. He had been hired to stay with Xan.

The pair worked in silence restocking the medical supplies that they could. The blonde made notes in a notebook as he counted and made chems and clean bandages. Tucking the notebook away into a pocket, Xan said his goodbyes and led the way back out into the settlement. He walked down the main street with Mac watching his back before they were stopped by the General as he emerged from a house opposite the workshop they'd been in earlier, “Xan, take Dogmeat!” The dog padded over to them both with a wagging tail and accepted a scratch behind the ear from Xan, “And send a flare.” The big man joined them in the street and handed Mac a small bag, “An advance. Day early I know but I'd rather it not be late. Five hundred counted and wrapped.” 

“Uh, thanks.” He pocketed it and felt that weird feeling in his stomach again. 
Will moved back to the house and joined Hancock at the door as they watched them move further down the street.

An old lady, decked out in beads and slippered feet, approached Xan and grabbed his hands before he could flinch away, her cloudy eyes gazing into his, “The child will be healed and he will be here.”

“Uh, thanks Mama,” he pulled his hands sharply away and brought one to his head briefly, “maybe you should talk to Will?”

The old woman laughed, “The General has his own business. I've seen it.”

“Uh huh, okay, well see you later, Mama.”

They moved by her and she called out, “The child will be here and happy. Just you wait.”

Mac stayed silent, his mental note of things to ask about ticking up. He caught Nick watching them from nearby the gates to Sanctuary where he stood with Piper Wright and a large man in an orange jumpsuit. Piper and the man nodded in recognition of them and Nick's eyes stayed trained on Xan as he slipped through the gate. Mac scowled at him before ducking through the gap. 

Xan breathed out a loud deep breath as the gate shut behind them and smiled toward the setting sun, “This is the furthest he's let me go without him.” Mac hummed and followed along. He debated what to ask about first before he finally said a word.

“Who was that old lady? What child does she mean?”

Xan swaggered down the road with a little pep in his step, tension gone from his shoulders and face, “Mama Murphy, I think she's talking about Shaun but she's been saying that to me since she got here. Apparently, she's psychic or somethin’. Or a witch? Who knows…”

Mac still didn't know who Shaun was so he chose to be quiet. He wasn't sure how many questions he could ask of his employer yet. He'd been fired for less in the past but Xan also didn't strike him as the type to mind either. He pondered as they walked, watching their surroundings for any sign of danger coming at them through the brush. They moved towards the nearby old petrol station they had passed on the way to the large settlement. It was maybe an hour's walk and Mac kept a hand on his rifle. The dog's ears were flicking everywhere. If danger was close by the dog would know first so he relaxed a little and watched the back of Xan's head. He moved silently as always, footsteps barely making a crunch in the snow beneath their feet.
Is this the part where Xan finally tries to run away again? That's why he'd been hired, after all, to stop him running off. But, no, he just walked with a slightly giddy smile on his face.

The Red Rocket was obviously used by Will and Xan on the regular. It was populated with many turrets, lights, and lockable doors. Xan led the way inside to a garage that had been converted into a living/sleeping area. A stove was in one corner beside a well stocked box of rations, two beds decked in blankets and hides were pushed close together in another corner, couches, a fire pit, an armory, another door that led to a bathroom with a mashed together working shower. The works.
Xan hummed beside him and he realised he'd been staring, “Me and Will used this place before Will decided he could handle Sanctuary again.”

“Again?” He followed Xan to the couch where they sat comfortably next to each other. He stoked the fire to life and warmth flooded over them.

“How much do you know about us?”

MacCready shrugged at the words, “Not much. Just that you're looking for someone and that you're vault dwellers. Oh, and you run the Minutemen?”

“Will runs the Minutemen. I'm more…his left hand? I just make sure the supplies go where they need to and make turrets and stuff.” He said it as though that was nothing. As though supplying settlements and healing and making turrets was an everyday thing, “We’re looking for my nephew. He was stolen when me and Will were frozen in the Vault up the hill,” Xan took a deep breath before delving into the wildest story Mac had ever heard in his life. A story of life before the war, the day the bombs dropped, waking up in a new world to a dead sister-in-law and missing kid, “We found the guy that took him. He told us Shaun was with the Institute. Not sure what Will saw in the Memory Den but now he has to go to the Glowing Sea which is apparently a nightmare all of its own.” He pinched the skin between his eyes with a wince.

They passed a cigarette between them as Mac processed. The Institute. He didn't know what to say. What to ask! He was over two hundred years old. He knew what life was like before everything went to hell. He didn't know why he believed him, maybe it was the conviction in his voice, his wide honest eyes, but he believed him. He blew out a breath with a shrug and said, “Sh -uh, crap. You weren't kidding when you said your brother got you that Grognak shirt a long time ago.”

Xan laughed. Loud and hard, doubling over at the waist and wiping a tear from his eye as he tried to recover. It was contagious and light as air and it had Mac smiling too, “Shit, yeah. I really wasn't.” He wanted to make him laugh like that all the time.

“So, you wanna shoot?” He said with his own smile and laugh as he stood.

“Hell yeah.”

***

Mac had set up some cans for them to shoot at and moved back to Xan to where he sat with his rifle. The sun was beginning to set and Mac made a motion with his hand, a gun shooting to the sky, in question. Xan's eyes widened and he rushed back inside and came back out a moment later with a flare gun. He went to hand it to Mac but he waved him on to shoot it himself.
Xan smiled at him and Mac once again hoped he'd be able to make him smile all the time. He felt weirdly pleased that the blonde seemed to reserve this side of him for when they were away from other people. He'd scowl and frown and look bored, like he had in the settlements, and then relax when he was with his brother or him. It was a prideful feeling. He pushed the feeling away as Xan loaded a flare into the gun and pointed it straight up before pulling the trigger. The kickback was minimal but MacCready noted that it made the smaller man's arm shake. A rifle would knock him down. Fine, they could start on bellies.
The flare glowed in the air for a minute before it sputtered out. In the distance, above Sanctuary, another red flare replied and Xan waved at Mac for them to begin.

They laid out some tarp to lay on to protect them from the snow and Mac showed him how to position himself with the rifle tucked into his shoulder. He barely even aimed the rifle before he shot one of the cans fifty yards away. It was child's play to him but a good starting point for someone who could barely fire a flare gun.
He moved over and let Xan take his spot. He had to move his arms and fingers into the right position, skin cold as night grew around them. He moved his shoulders back a bit, shifted his legs, before coming back to his face. He carefully guided the tilt of his head so he could see down the scope with minimal risk of the gun kicking back and giving him a black eye. Xan’s face hadn’t stopped smiling, and when Mac lay beside him to help him brace against the kick back, his ice blue eyes looked over at him. He had a slight flush high on his lightly freckled cheekbones. He was pretty . Their faces were so close together and Mac felt the blush rise in his neck and cheeks. He could blame it on the cold, “Ready?” He asked and Xan nodded excitedly with another smile, “Okay, go.”
He looked back down the scope and MacCready guided his finger to the trigger and braced his arm against the gun. The shot went off and he vibrated with the kick back. A can didn't fall and Xan pouted, “Fuck…” his bottom lip pushed out as he looked at Mac with a question.
He had the sudden urge to bite the pout but instead shrugged and said, “It's okay, try again.” He cocked the rifle for him and Xan took aim once more. The guns report sounded again and no can fell. Xan let out a quiet whining Robbie and Mac chuckled before nudging his friend. Friend? Boss , “Here, let me see.” Xan moved his face back a bit so RJ could see down the barrel, tipping his hat back so the brim didn't knock the sights, “Ah, wind is taking the bullet a little bit.” He moved and let Xan take the spot again, “Here.” He nudged the rifle ever so slightly to the left before bracing against the smaller man again. This time, the can clattered to the ground with a fresh new bullet lodged in it.

Xan jumped to his feet and raised his arms up in victory with a yell, “Fuck yes! Did you see that, Rob? Fuck that can.” 

Robbie
Rob
Robert

Mac grinned up at him and watched him run to the can and pick it up, he ran it back over to show him, free hand waving and doing little fist pumps. He handed the can over and the bullet was stuck right in the middle of the can, “We'll make a sniper of you yet.” He plucked the bullet out of the can and handed it to him, “Here, to remember your first lesson.”

Xan took the bullet and their fingers brushed and RJ felt like electricity had shivered up his spine. He followed Xan inside out of the cold, “I'll be back in a minute.” He wandered over to the door that led to the makeshift bathroom, shutting the door with a soft snickt.
Mac made himself busy and started pulling out rations and setting them out on a coffee table for them to snack on whilst they read the next magazine.

It wasn't fair. The name on his neck taunted him. He wanted it to say Xander or Xan-whatever-his-last-name-is . Wanted it so bad he thought he'd cry. But it didn't. Not even close.

Robbie
Rob
Robert

***

Fingers crossed people are enjoying this <3

Chapter Text

Will came to visit the next day and was pushed back out the door with a “we’re fine” grumbled out by Xan. They spent their time teaching each other their languages. Xan would show MacCready how to wire up a turret, or how to pull a good stitch, or how to make a grenade. And MacCready would teach Xan all about guns, picking locks and how to swindle at cards.

“You're just a street urchin aren't you?” Xan said with a grin when he lost at the poker game again.

“What's that?”

“You! You're an urchin, Robbie. Where did you learn to do this?”

Mac smiled a semi-sad smile at him, “Little Lamplight. It's where I'm from, a little community of just kids in a cave.”

“ Just kids? In a cave ?” He asked as he pottered around getting them food. Mac was looking a little less like he was on death's doorstep but a bit more food would still help. His hair was clean now and Xan had stitched up some of the bigger tears in his duster.

“Yeah, no parents, no Mungos. Just kids looking out for each other…” he accepted the bowl of noodles that Xan said “aren't as good as Takahashi’s” and continued, “I was actually the mayor for a few years after I punched a girl in the face.”

Xan laughed, “Oh, that's sad. So where did you get your name?”

“It was pinned to me when I was dropped off at the cave when I was a baby I think. What about you? Where did you learn all this?” He waved vaguely at the workbench and food.

“My mum and dad mostly. And then through working at a research center. Mum taught me and Will how to cook and how to run a house. Dad taught us how to make things and how to care for weapons. He was in the army before he…” he paused and shook his head, “Anyway, they thought me and Will would be alone together forever so they taught us what they could.”

“Why would you be alone?” He said around a mouthful of hot broth. They were both attractive and skilled. They could have anyone they wanted. The people of the settlements treated them like messiahs.

“We were Unmarked. It was rare back then to not have a name and people generally avoided you when they found out. Made people like us freakish . Bad luck.”

Mac paused, his hand grabbing his scarf as it usually did when something like this came up, “Unmarked?”

“Hmm. We were . When we woke up we both had names. Like we were always supposed to have marks but our people just hadn't been born yet? It's…weird. I think you've noticed Hancock and Will hanging all over each other?”

“Oh! I thought that was just because they were both fu-uh…attracted to each other or somethin’.”

“I mean, I guess they are. I don't see it myself. Will is an ugly fucker.” They laughed again and Xan thought this just might've been one of the best days of his life.

A day later, warm and groggy from sleep with Mac a warm weight beside him, he opened his eyes and grabbed Mac's thigh as hard as he could beneath the blankets and hides. Nick fucking Valentine was hovering at the foot of their bed. Orange eyes glowing and cigarette burning between synthetic lips.

Mac shot up and grabbed his rifle, “Nick! What the hell, man!?”

“Just checking in.”

Xan rolled his eyes, “Yeah? Now fuck off!” Mac's hand found his underneath the blanket where it was still gripping his thigh. His fingers gently pulled the grip away but didn't let go of his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“What are you doing, MacCready? I'm not going to hurt the kid.” 

His rifle was held tightly in his hand as he dragged it onto his knee, creating a barrier between them and the robot, “You're being really fu-freaking weird, Nick. Back off.”

Xan felt the vibration come up through the bed before the door opposite them clattered open. The huge hulking Power Armour of Danse came into the room, helmeted head tilting as he took in the scene. Xan watched his hand shift slightly to the laser rifle at his hip, “What's going on in here?”

Mac had gone stone still next to him, hand squeezing tightly as he glared at Danse, “The fu- Brotherhood?” His rifle was slowly shifting around, barrel pointing away and more toward Nick and Danse. Xan tried to tap him, convey to him that Danse wasn’t a threat but his gunmetal eyes were locked on the two hovering around the bed. Pain lanced behind his eyes and he dipped against Mac slightly. Fuck, my head. He felt Mac curve a little around him.

Danse hummed, the static effect coming through his helmet making him sound more like a robot than Nick did, “Nick, leave them alone. Xander’s safe, obviously.” He waved his arm almost casually and brought it between Nick and the bed, making the synth back up a few steps.

Then, thankfully and gloriously just on time as always, Will came into the room, “The fuck is going on?” Dogmeat jumped up and trotted over to his master with a wag of his tail.

“Your robot was watching us sleep.” Mac said tersely.

Will frowned and then looked at Xan, if he thought anything about him being in bed with Mac, he didn't let on, “You okay? Don’t worry, we aren’t staying long.”

Xan just shook his head, wincing at the aching migraine, and Will huffed through his nose before saying to Nick and Danse, “Wait outside. Now.”
The pair left the room and Xan caught sight of the red tail coat of Hancock and the barrel of a shotgun disappearing around the door frame. Will waved at him, hand flapping in a beckoning motion, “Come.” He quickly got up off the bed swaying slightly as the pain in his brain recoiled at the movement and was, as always, gripped by the arm and pulled out the door and around to the little office space behind a closed door, “You spoke to him yet? How's your head?” Will pulled out a Med-X and rolled up Xan's sleeve.

Xan pulled his arm away with a shake of his head and motioned for a Stimpak instead, “No. And it'd be better if Nick didn't jump-scare us awake twice a week.” Will injected the stim and Xan sighed at the relief it brought. The migraine was still there but the edge was taken off.

“Do it soon or he'll be pissed you kept it from him. Need Med-X?” He held out the Med-X again.

“No, I'm okay without it. Makes me too loopy. And, I’m trying to bring it up naturally, dude. Go away now. Have fun in the Glowing Sea with your Ghoul. Maybe you’ll look more like him when you come out, though it won't be much of a change.” He said it with a grin so that Will would know he was only playing.

“Whatever, scruff. Just get naked in front of him, it’ll be the most natural and obvious way to tell him. Worked with Hancock…”

“I’m not just stripping in front of Robert! Perv.” He began to move away back towards the garage/living space where they had left Mac. He spotted Nick, Danse, and Hancock waiting a short way away. Hancock tipped his hat at him and Xan waved before saying to Will, “Go now and be safe.”

“Always am,”  They entered the garage and Xan was quick to sit back down on the bed with Mac who had a cigarette between his teeth. Will came over and ruffled his hair, “Have fun with your…Robert. Be safe. Look after your brain.”

He rolled his eyes and shoved his arm away from his hair. Will laughed and had a quick word with Mac, filling him in on where they were going and when they’d be back approximately. A week. Mac nodded along and then scowled when Will said, “Remember. Bullet. Back.”

He lay back down onto the bed and watched Mac get up and move to the door. He looked out and disappeared around the door frame, rifle held casually by his side. Xan assumed he had gone to watch them leave from some inconspicuous spot. Maybe use the bathroom. Maybe shoot Nick. He didn’t think too hard about it because he knew he’d be back soon and he felt a worried gnawing grow in his chest. Just get naked in front of him. He lay, staring up at the cracked and aged ceiling above him, hand over the name beneath his shirt.

My name will be on him too.
Somewhere.

His full and proper name.

Lucas Alexander Rake

He hated the name Lucas.
A bully in school had been called Lucas. He'd made fun of him for being a part of the “war orphans club” and laughed because his dad didn't even have the decency to die in battle like the other dads did. Will had tried to put a stop to it, as he always did, by picking him up from school in full uniform a few times. But, kids could be cruel, and they started laughing about how his brother was going to get shot in Anchorage and then he'd be alone. Poor Unmarked little orphan boy.
He begged Will and Nora not to call him Lucas anymore. Will tried Alex, Luke, Xander, but Xan just fit. So Xan he was, unless Will was mad at him. Then he was Alexander. Nora had called him Lucas regardless of his feelings.

Would Mac be annoyed that he'd kept it from him? He wanted to tell him. Was going to tell him during their shooting lesson the other night but he'd been so close and distracting. His face was right there next to his and he'd kept touching him to adjust his hold on the rifle. Blue-grey eyes, little scars, curly brown hair sticking out of his hat. He had to excuse himself to the bathroom to… sort himself out. Maybe he could just strip down in front of him. It wouldn't be so unusual would it? Two guy friends just getting changed. Did friends do that here?
His brain hurt and he was suddenly very aware of every shift in the air, every vibration rattling through the bed frame, every mote of dust, every speck of dirt. Five…four… He shut his eyes tight with a frown and pinched the bridge of his nose to just focus on breathing. Three…two… God, it’s so fucking loud.
He felt a cool hand on his and a gentle pull. He opened his eyes and the gunmetal gaze of Mac, of his bloody Soulmate , looked down at him with a worried expression, “You feeling okay?” His thumb rubbed a gentle circle in his arm where Will had grabbed him, eyes flickering over the fingertip bruises. It was blissfully quiet with him. One.

“Yeah,” He decided to just get it over with. He’d do it today . One way or another, “You?”

“Yeah, wanna eat?” His hands moved down his arms almost absently and Xan had to force himself to not groan at the contact, “And then shoot?”

He nodded and got out of bed.

***

There was something bothering Xan, which bothered him in turn. He was looking down the scope with a frown instead of his usual smile and when RJ helped him brace, he felt how tense he was.
Was it Nick? The old synth was being so weird and it put him on edge. It's like he was obsessed and he didn’t like it. It made the hairs on his neck stand up.
He'd taken his rifle that morning when they'd left just to watch and make sure that Nick actually did leave with the others. He'd come back and Xan had been making little worried noises that Mac didn't think he knew he was making and pinching the bridge of his nose again. He'd gathered that the man got headaches. Had seen him take a Stimpak or a Med-X for them. Maybe I should shoot Nick and take one cause of them away?
And then, there were the bruises. Both biceps and forearms were covered with them. Little fingertips or even a whole hand in one place. He was so pale that the blue and yellows of them stood out in stark contrast. If Will wasn't his brother, he'd have shot him too by now. The big man was clearly used to manhandling Xan without argument and he seemed used to it too. But that didn't make it feel any better. Were they like that before the war? Will shoving him around and Xan just accepting it as a rough form of protection?
Mac swore to himself right then that he'd never leave a bruise like that on Xan.

Unless he asks for it .

He choked at his own brain. The image of fingertip bruises on his narrow hips, placed there during something good. Would it be good? Could it be good?
He tucked his chin to his chest to hide the flush in his face when Xan pulled the trigger of the rifle. A can went down. Still no smile.
Xan stood and went to collect the can, shoulders shoved forward and face down. When he came back he motioned to the garage and RJ nodded. Today wasn't a shooting day after all.

They entered the warmth and Xan was quick to grab a book and sat down on the couch. He was chewing his lip, fingers tapping on the page. Mac shook off his duster and joined him, shoulders pressed together. Xan was looking at him so he said, “There's something bothering you. Is it your head? Maybe I can help?” I'll shoot Nick for you. Have it out with Will so he doesn't touch you again. He didn't think he would agree to that thought in his head.
Xan shrugged against him, murmured something about migraines, finger tapping the paper again as he stared down at the page. He waited for him to sort through whatever it was he was trying to say.

“Uh, I have something to tell you.” He looked so worried. Nervous and fidgety.

“Can't be that bad…” Maybe Will had said something to him that morning. Maybe he was being fired? Mac really hoped that wasn't the case. He'd never had a job like this before, he'd never felt so comfortable with a client. Or with anyone really.
Xan was chewing his lip again and Mac leaned forward a little, casually draping his arm along the back of the couch.

“Hmm…” Xan brushed against him a little before he stood suddenly, hands wringing together, “Back in a second.”

He fled from the room, halo of pale hair standing up in all directions as he ripped off his hat. Mac waited. It can't be that bad, right? Surely not.
Xan came back into the room a few minutes later with something carefully hidden behind his back. He paused by the door.

“I have something for you.” He still looked nervous but less absolutely terrified and pained than what he had done, “Close your eyes.” Mac watched him for a moment before doing as he was told. He didn't hear Xan approach, he never did, but he didn't feel the need to cringe away when a soft hand moved his arms onto his lap. Something heavy and cold was placed on top of them, “Open them.”

He did and looked down. A shiny black rifle in near perfect condition was laying across his arms. It was a .308 and modded. A full recon scope, extended magazine, comfortable stock, “Xan…I can't accept this.” It was too much. Too deep. 

“Sure you can, I'm giving it to you.” Xan was grinning down at him from where he stood between his legs. His hips were in line with his eyes. The same hips he imagined fingertip bruises on and he swallowed.

“It's your brother's,” a Minuteman star was painted on the scope, “he'll be pi - annoyed.”

“It's not Will's. It's mine. I found it ages ago and got it going but Will isn't a sniper so it's just been collecting dust. Please, take it. Think of it as loot.” His hand was brushing over the left side of his rib-cage. He brushed that place a lot. Mostly when he was thinking or worried. MacCready wasn't stupid and knew what was there and didn't want to know what it said. Didn't want to meet the person whose name was written there in passing and want to put a bullet in them.

“It's too much.” He probably could've bought one of them if he hadn't been sending his pay and letters out with the provisioners to Daisy in Goodneighbor who then sent it to Duncan. Xan had seen him do it with the caps Will had given him the other day but hadn't commented.

“No it's not. I want you to have it. You're my…friend?” His voice ticked up as though it was a question. Friend? Boss? The line was blurred. “Robbie?”

“Um, thank you? I've never had someone be so…”

“I guess the road’s a lonely place, until you find someone to share it with?”

Friends? “I guess I've never really thought about it like that…” he felt so… right with him. Like he could tell him anything and he'd just accept him. Be a real friend. He gripped the rifle and turned it over in his hands. He didn't feel so alone in the world anymore and it was a jarring feeling.

Xan smiled and moved away, leaving a cold space in front of him between his spread legs.

***

He was kicking himself as they made the short journey to Sanctuary a couple days later. He'd chickened out and he knew that Mac knew it too. The man watched him with a worried expression. He was quieter than usual and he felt bad on the guy. Though, the new rifle looked excellent on him. A sleek black line along the back of his duster jacket. Now he just needed armour. Maybe new boots?

“Xan?”

“Hmm?”

“You good?”

His steel grey-blue eyes were watching him, “Yeah, just really don't like Sanctuary.”

“Why?” He seemed surprised.

“Too loud.”

Mac hummed and then asked, “So, when are you gonna try and run away again?”

Xan paused and laughed, “What?”

“I was…hired to stop you running away. It's been way over two or three weeks and you've not even made one daring escape attempt. Wondering if my services are even needed.” He smirked at him and Xan accepted the distraction for what it was.

“I've never tried to run away, Rob. Seriously. I tried to get some privacy one night and wandered too close to the edge of a settlement.”

“Oh? That's it?”

“I know, right? Will freaked out. He's always been protective but it just got worse when we got here.”

Mac hummed and the conversation fell off as the merc thought, a little crease between his eyebrows.

He led the way over the bridge, feeling Mac's eyes on the back of his head. He raised his hand and the guard opened up for him, Dogmeat slipped through with a bark and ran off into the settlement, the grating of the gate echoed in his head and he fought the urge to back away. Already, the migraine was forming, “Welcome home, sir.”

Sir. It bothered him that they called him that. His brother was the General, he was just a medic and tinkerer with a fake rank. He heard Mac scoff behind him and let the comment pass with a grin. He could do this without Will with Mac there.
Dodging Piper with an excuse of busy work, the woman had been hounding him for an interview for months, he led the way to the workshop.

“Xander!” Sturges held his arms wide in the sweltering and loud space. He dropped them quickly when Xan didn't step into the hug like usual, “What can I d’ya for?” 

“Just checking in like I said I would. Got finished with those boards?”

Sturges waved him over to his workbench when some military circuit boards were in the process of getting repaired. The man hunched beside him and whispered, “See you still have a guard dog.”

Xan looked over his shoulder and saw Mac standing in the doorway leaning with his hip against the threshold, a cigarette hung lazily from his mouth as he watched them both. He looked so…effortless and Xan felt a little coil of heat bloom inside himself, “MacCready, yeah, he's…nice.”

“Hmm, well I trust the General to know what he's doing.”

The General. He wasn't a child. Five…four… ”Okay, well these look good so far. I'll take a few with me to work on at the rocket.” He shoved a few in his pack, “Anything else?”

“Nah, kid, I'll send for ya if anything comes up.” Sturges stood and leaned so he could whisper again, “Send a flare if you need us.” He pointedly nodded his chin at Mac and Xan had to force himself not to flinch away.

“Okay, I will do. Thanks, Sturges.” He replied at a normal volume. Three…two…

He joined up with Mac again and let his hand curl into his coat. The other man didn't seem to mind and let him hold on. Fireworks and bonfire filled his nose. One.
He decided a flying visit to the clinic was necessary so led the way there. He opened the door and held in the sigh at the view of a few patients waiting for Kenzie to get round to them.

“Kenzie? Need help?”

The harried doctor looked around a little partition curtain, “Oh, sir! Thank you, yes please!” She ducked back around the curtain to whoever she was treating.

He murmured to Mac as the man sat on a stool, “Sorry, Mac…”

“It's okay. I'll wait.” He crossed a leg over his knee, seemingly as patient as stone. Xan pat his shoulder and let his hand linger there as he looked over the people waiting.

He spotted a young boy, maybe ten or eleven, with his arm bent at a funny angle. He trailed his fingers down Mac's arm absently and got to work.

***

Watching Xan work was quickly becoming one of his most favourite things to do. Whether it was fixing turrets, making chems, or snapping some poor kid's arm back in place, Mac enjoyed watching and listening. The trail Xan had left down his own arm felt like a ghost and Mac ran his own thumb over where the nimble fingers had lingered.

The kid was loopy on Med-X and Xan was talking to him as his hands manipulated the child's arm back into a more natural place. The kid talked before going dead quiet with his mouth open in shock as Xan twisted the limb and popped the joint back into place. He quickly lay the arm over the kid's chest and pushed him back to lie down, “How did you do that?” The kid mumbled sleepily.

“Lots of practice.” Xan was making a sling to keep the arm in position.

“How much do I owe you?”

Xan paused and looked down at the kid with a furrowed brow, “Oh buddy, are you new here?” The kid nodded, “No charge for settlers and Minutemen.” He said it with a smile but the kid frowned with that Wastelander knowledge that screamed nothing comes for free!

“Why?”

“Because that's what my brother and I and the Minutemen do here. Help people. This is our town and we look after our people. ‘kay?” the kid nodded with teary eyes and Mac looked down at his feet.

Help people. We look after our people.

Xan moved to the next person. A man with a bloodied shirt that he helped remove to reveal a nasty gash to his side. Xan helped the man lie down on his uninjured side and stood at his back. The flash of his scalpel that was kept up his sleeve cut some thread from a pan of supplies and he got to work cleaning and sewing. The man was mumbling at Xan as he worked. Xan listened and replied as needed.

We look after our people.

Did Mac come under the umbrella of our people ? Could he ask for help? Will and Xan were his employers. But, Xan called him friend. Did that count? Xan and Will seemed to care about people in general and he had a funny feeling that Xan actually gave a damn about what happened to him.

Eventually, Xan said goodbyes to the doctor, dropped off Stimpaks and other chems out of his bag, and led the way out into the settlement. He saw Xan wince in the light of the sun and roll his neck at the shift in noise. Mac gently put his hand between the man's shoulder blades, “It's okay, I've got you.”

Xan smiled up at him, “Thanks, Robert. Let's get this done and go home.”

Home.

Okay, so they'd never live in a big town or settle in the safety of a place like Sanctuary, but they could stay in the outskirts, maybe? Close enough to be safe but far enough that it wasn't too loud for Xan. He paused in the street of Sanctuary at the thought. He hadn't thought about the future or the planning of it since Duncan got sick. And, his traitorous brain was planning for it with him . The small blonde man who smiled like the sun and accepted him for who he was. Murky history and all.
Xan looked over his shoulder at him with an eyebrow raised. You coming ? Mac smiled at him and continued to follow the small man. They were going to his house. His original house that he'd lived in before the bombs dropped.

The old woman, Mama Murphy, was shuffling in slippered feet toward them, “Honey,” she began at Xan, “the child depends on you. He needs help.”

“Mama, I really think you need to talk to Will about this when he's back.” Xan was pinching the bridge of his nose again.

“Your brother will help but it needs to be you. And him.” Her cloudy eyes flickered over to Mac and he felt like she looked right through him.

“Okay, I'll talk to Will then.” He started to back up to move past her but she grabbed his arm.

“Time is running out, honey. The boy is weak.”

“Mama,” he gently removed his arm with a wince and Mac stepped forward. He'd shove the woman if he had to, “We're going as fast as we can. Bye now.”

He moved by and as Mac passed the woman she said, “Tell him. For the boy.”

Mac felt a shiver crawl over his body.

***

They entered the house.
Old couches and rusted stools sat on top of threadbare rugs. It was tidy but obviously lived in. Will's clothes were scattered on the back of a chair, a box of chems that Xan assumed was Hancock’s, cups and bowls sat in a washing bowl. A map of the Commonwealth was on a table with coloured pins stuck in it marking their settlements. How did they make it seem so easy? Hancock had obviously made himself comfortable in the space in the handful of days he'd been here before they'd left for the Glowing Sea.
He let Mac have a look around, the mercenary poking around cupboards and looking out the back door, and wandered up the corridor to his old room. He paused as he pushed the door open.

There, stood in shadow in a black jacket and his usual sunglasses, was Deacon. He smiled at him over his sunglasses and said, “Hey, Quiet.”

“Deacon! Where have you been?” He hadn’t seen the man in weeks. He thought Deacon might have been his first proper friend in this new world. Maybe ever. He spoke to him like an adult and had made the effort to not call him kid .

“Had a job to do for Des, met Will on his way to the Sea and he asked me to check in on you. See you’ve made a friend .” He waggled his eyebrows and Xan flushed, hand coming up to rest on the name on his ribs. Deacon caught the movement, “Ah. That kind of friend? Good for you, Xan.”

Xan moved around the room and came to stop beside Deacon. Deacon shifted so his back was to the door, blocking the light slightly and casting Xan in a soothing shadow, “How's your head?”

Xan shrugged, as good as it always was he supposed, “Fine.” He could ask Deacon. He wouldn't laugh or call him a baby. Or get mad and shove him, “What do I do?”

“Well, what do you want to happen? Is he just a friend?”

Xan thought about it. How it was so blissfully quiet with Mac. How he felt beside him in the night. His laugh and the way he smelled, “No, I don't think so.”

“Then just let it happen, Xan. No use in fighting it if you have his mark, hmm? I won’t when I find mine.” He loved that about Deacon. The older man was just simply honest with him when it mattered. He knew he had his secrets and talked a lot of shit, but things like this? Things about growing up and being a person in this world? He was more straight with him than anyone else, “Got something for you,” He went to his pocket, moving to pull something out and then froze. Completely and totally still.

The barrel of a rifle was pressed against the side of his ear and Mac’s face came out of the shadow, looking murderous. He’d never seen him like that and even he froze where he stood. Mac’s eyes flickered over him once before looking back at Deacon, “Take your hand out of your pocket…slowly.” Deacon did and pulled a rolled comic book out with his hand, holding it up with a small grin on his face.

“You must be the merc. Or is it boyfriend now?” 

Mac ignored the comment even as Xan flushed, “Who the hell are you and what do you want with Xan?”

Deacon winked at Xan over his sunglasses, grin still firmly in place and clearly not worried, “I’m his best pal. Deacon,” he held out a hand to Mac whose rifle was still pressed firmly against Deacon’s temple, “Pleasure to meet you, MacCready .”

Xan decided to step in then as he saw the barrel press harder against Deacon’s head, “Mac, he’s a friend.” He stood and wrapped a hand in the back of his duster, pulling on him gently. He saw Deacon’s smirk and fought down the flush again, “Thanks for the new reading material.” He said to him.

“Anytime, Quiet. Guess I didn’t need to check in with this guy around.” Mac had dropped the rifle to his side now but he was still staring at Deacon mistrustfully. Deacon spoke to the merc properly then, “Look after him, Trickshot. See you both soon, yeah?”

Deacon moved away, pat Xan’s shoulder and nodded at Mac’s scowling face. They watched him move out into the hallway and simply disappear into the dim light. Xan picked up the new magazine and looked up at Mac, “Hungry?”

Mac nodded but asked as they stood in his old bedroom, “Quiet?”

“Hmm,” Xan remembered why he'd come to the house then and dropped to the floor to rummage under his bed and pulled out a small safe, “Because I'm quiet.” He lifted the safe onto his bed and started putting in the code. Mac watched him with a small frown that deepened when Xan pulled out rolls of caps, “Sorry, we'll sort food in a minute…”

“Xan, I -”

“Take the caps, Robert. Send them to wherever you're sending them.” He seemed to war with himself, hand fiddling with the rifle before he nodded and took the caps, “Do you mind me asking where you send the caps?”

***

Do you mind me asking where you send the caps?

His throat felt tight. How did he even begin to explain? To even ask for help? You're my…friend? He'd asked when he'd gifted him the rifle. Yet here he was, paying him for his time. Providing for his son far more so than what he could do alone.

“Robert?” Robert. No one called him Robert except for Xan. Robert, Robbie, Rob. It felt like a secret when he said his name. It came out a whisper and wrapped around his brain and heart, “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. But, if it's a problem, someone you're paying off or something? We'll deal with it.”

We'll deal with it. “Fu - frick.”

Xan laughed, “Stopping yourself from cursing again? I'm not your mother.”

He decided to just come out with it. Decided to trust Xan, “It's not about you. It's about a promise I made.” He paused and thought for a moment. He could tell him. His friend, “I…I send them home. The caps.” Xan was looking up at him with a small confused furrow between his eyes but he was waiting so patiently, “When I left the Capital Wasteland…I didn't just leave Little Lamplight behind. I left my family behind. I had a...friend named Lucy and -” his voice caught and he just stared down at his hands.

Xan came to stand in front of him, his hands reaching up and holding his arms. His thumbs were drawing soothing circles there when he said, “And?”

Mac let his hands move to hold Xan's forearms. He didn't know if he needed the support to stand or just to know that Xan wouldn't step away from him when it all came out. He dipped his head so he didn't have to look at him, “and…a son. Duncan. He's the one I made my promise to. To clean up my act and be a better person.” Xan was so still. So silent. Quiet. His thumbs had stopped their slow gentle movements and Mac couldn't look at him. The silence was pressing in on him as they just stood there, “I guess that sounds pretty stupid coming from the guy who shoots people for a living.”

He felt Xan shift and reflexively tightened his grip on his arms; he couldn't stand the thought of him stepping away from him then. Leaving that cold space. Leaving him alone. Xan stopped moving and leaned a little closer as he whispered, “I don't know what to say.”

Mac wanted to cry. He wanted his knees to give out and collapse but he stayed standing, desperately clinging to his one friend in this place. This one person who he suddenly couldn't imagine walking away from, “Sure you do. You want to tell me how cruel it was to leave him behind. He's sick, Xan, I don't know what's wrong with him.” He felt his throat burning as his chest threatened to explode with pain and worry. He could hear it in his voice, watery and rasping.

Instead of moving away and shouting, calling him a liar and a shit dad like Lucy used to do, Xan gently pulled on him until his head was resting on his shoulder. His hands moved to his back and carefully started to rub down his spine, “Hey, hush now, I would never call you cruel, Robbie.”

He felt the water in his eyes seep out and wet Xan's shoulder, “One day, he was playing out in the fields behind our farm. The next, he'd taken a fever and these blue boils popped up all over his body.” Those hands stuttered before keeping up their soothing motion on his back and he hadn't realized how badly he'd needed someone to talk to about this, to just get it off his chest. To stop that hollow monster of misery from clawing at him, “Last I saw him, he was too weak to walk. I didn't dare ask him to come with me. I don't know how much longer he's going to last.”

They stood in the darkening room as the sun began to dip. Xan made quiet shushing noises in his ear as he let himself cry quietly against him, years of pent up worry and stress and trauma just spilling out now that the dam had broken. Lucy dying in that subway, his son and the never ending quest of trying to cure him, the trauma and molesting of the Gunners. Of trying to find that person but finding someone he wished so desperately they were. The brand on his neck. It had been so long since he'd felt safe enough to just cry. Xan just held on and let him settle into a bleary mess onto his, now wet, hoodie, “How can I help, Robert?”

He shivered and squeezed his eyes shut, the whisper of his name coming from him making him feel right and stable again, “There might be a way I can save him. You've already done so much, are doing so much, and I can't ask you to do more.” The work Xan did to keep the settlements going with his brother was astounding. And then there was the time they spent together. That was work . Building a friendship and trust and learning from one another. It made him so happy and how could he ask for more?

“I'll do anything for you.”

Mac pulled Xan in impossibly tighter, crushing him against him. I'll do anything for you. His hair tickled his ear and he could feel the bare skin of his neck against his chin, “If you're willing to risk it.” 

His hand had moved to the back of his head and one finger was brushing the fine curly hair there, “How risky? Will will be home in a day or two, he'll come with us, promise.”

Mac nodded against him, it would make sense to bring Will and Hancock to that place, “If it was easy I would've done it myself. I need you for this one. Duncan does too.”

“I've already promised, Rob. We never break a promise.”

Mac pulled away from the hug now and looked down at Xan's face. He had to be sure he wasn't looking at him with anything other than his usual open honesty. Not the contempt or boredom he put on for everyone else. He didn't think he could take it if he'd been wrong this whole time. Xan looked up at him, cheeks a little flushed, mouth a little open. He wanted to hug him again, “A few months before we met, I bumped into a guy called Sinclair who claimed his name had the same disease. Thought he was wasting our time until he said his partner had broken out in blue boils.” Xan had gone tense again, eyes widening, “They dug up information about a cure in some place called -”

“Med-Tek.”

“Resea…yeah…how did you -”

Xan dropped to the floor and rooted under his bed again. Model robots, paper, a random pair of pants, and other clutter were pulled out from beneath it. He heard him huff and say a quiet yes! before he emerged again. In his hands, he held a blue and white card on a string. Emblazoned on the card was a serious looking old picture of Xan staring moodily out at them with numbers printed on the bottom, “That's where I worked . Before the bombs dropped! Oh my God, Robbie , I can get you in easily!” He was smiling up at him and held the badge out for him to take.

The blue eyes in the picture, covered a little by a blonde messy fringe, were nothing compared to them in real life, “It's overrun with ferals, Xan.”

“Yeah, but this is my staff pass. It'll open any door so long as the electricity is still on. Will can handle the zombies.”

“I have the lockdown codes too!” Mac was suddenly feeling a little less hopeless about it all. It was like fate had handed him Xan. He had the sudden urge to thank Hancock for pointing the brothers to him when they needed a Merc, “I hope this is right. I have nothing else if it isn't.”

“I'll do everything I can to help Duncan. I promise you that.” His hand came up to his face and brushed his cheek softly, thumb wiping another stray tear, “Don't give up hope, Robert.”

Mac couldn't take it anymore. Damn fate and the name on his throat. He pushed forward, lifted his hand to cup Xan by his face, and dipped his head to brush his mouth against his. He paused to let him move away if he wanted. He didn't and he pressed his mouth harder against him. Xan made a little groaning noise that had Mac seeing stars behind his eyelids and he felt him brush his lower lip with his tongue. 
It was the best feeling he'd ever felt in his life. Electricity shot down his spine and pooled in his belly. Xan's hand found his waist and held on tightly as his tongue dipped into Mac's mouth. It felt so good.
Then his arms came around his neck, holding tight, and his brain stuttered. An image of someone bigger than him pinning him down in a shack on an overpass. Pressing his face and chest down into a mattress.

He pulled away sharply, keeping his eyes shut and breathing heavily through his nose. Xan let him move a step back, “Sorry.” Xan said quickly and Mac opened his eyes and saw him standing there wringing his hands. His face was flushed, mouth red, pupils blown wide.

Fuck. “It's not you.” He didn't have the strength to explain. He felt wrung out and spread thin. He wanted to kiss him again but the images in his brain made him want to shoot something. The name burned.

Xan just nodded in acceptance, completely trusting him and giving him space. He didn't think he'd ever get used to that. He grabbed his bag and all the caps out of his safe, “Ready to go? We can send all this to Duncan right now before the provisioners leave in the morning.”

Mac didn't reply but followed him back outside and into the slowly approaching night.

***

Comments and suggestions welcome :)

Chapter Text

All the caps out of his safe, about seven hundred and fifty worth, were given to a provisioner who was headed to Hangman's Alley along with a model Mr. Gutsy. It was packed tightly in a box with a new letter from Mac and the man leading the Brahmin was given extra pay to make a detour to Goodneighbor to pass it over to Daisy.
Xan wished they could take it themselves but Will would never forgive him or Mac if they made the trek without him. Hell, he'd probably put a bullet in Mac for the trouble. 

It was getting dark and he wondered about staying the night in Sanctuary but eventually decided against it when he spotted Mama Murphy smiling at him from her usual chair, Preston at her shoulder with a frown on his face as he watched Mac, “Let's go home.” He murmured to his mercenary and Mac just nodded and followed in silence. He couldn't see Dogmeat anywhere and figured the free-spirited mutt would come to the rocket when he was ready.
They moved through the gates in silence, the first stars popping out along the dark edge of the horizon. Mac was quiet beside him, hand tight on his rifle and eyes watching all around them. He didn't want to distract him but he couldn't get the feeling of him off his mouth. He'd tasted like cigarettes and a Nuka-Cola Cherry he'd drank earlier in the day. His hands had been warm against him. And then he'd flinched away like he'd been burnt. The look on his face was seared into his head. Fear. Guilt. Hunger. A mish-mash of confusion. His hand had gripped his scarf with white knuckles. He wanted to ask him about it but thought he'd tell him when he was ready. 

I should've told him before we kissed. He's gonna be so mad.

He could feel that building pressure behind his eyes. A sharp angry pain that made him squint in the low light.

He has a son!

The pain was nearing on nausea. A sick son. A little tiny boy who needed help. Needed his help. Xan had wracked his brain of all the diseases he knew and the symptoms of Duncan sounded like a fairly new discovery from before the bombs dropped. A plague that affected only teens and children. He knew Med-Tek had worked on a treatment. Hell, he'd worked on it too. His name would be on the paperwork there as assistant researcher to Professor Teeg. Fuck.
He had to stop walking. He braced himself with his hands on his knees and breathed through the pain in his head. Ow. Mama Murphy knew. This whole time for months she had been telling him. Even before he'd met Mac. Before they'd killed Kellogg. The boy is weak. He's running out of time. He wanted to scream. How much time did Duncan have? If they got the cure would they be able to get it to him on time? He knew the room where he'd done the work on Prevent . Locked behind security doors in the basement levels. Beyond the research floor where people had volunteered for testing. Now they were apparently ferals. His colleagues. People he'd eaten lunch with. Had drinks with.

If I'd gone to work early I'd be there too. Either dead or a zombie.

Five things I can see: Grass, ground, stars, red rocket, rifle.

He shut his eyes.

Four things I can touch: My knees, my clothes… A hand pressed between his shoulders, “Need help?”

Three things I can hear: A crow, insects… ”Xan?” Robert.

A hand snaked around his waist and gently pulled him up.

Two things I can smell: Gunpowder and bonfire.

“Come on, let's get you home.”

One thing I can taste: Cigarettes and Cola. Robert.

He was pulled down the road using Mac as a crutch, “Why does your head hurt?” He asked quietly as though he was scared of making it worse.

“Migraine.”

“Mhmm, but why?” He unlocked the door that would lead them into the garage.

“I get them when I'm stressed or…upset.” He was placed gently on the bed and Mac moved to the cooler, pulling out a Nuka-Cola and handing it over. The sugar would help.

“Are you…upset? Is it because of -”

“No! I liked it.” His thumb brushed his mouth at the memory.

Mac smiled a sad smile at him, “I meant about Duncan.” He sat on the bed with him, close enough that their shoulders pushed together.

“Why would I be upset about Duncan? I'm worried for him and I hope I get to meet him.” Mac looked down at his hands, picking at a nail, “We'll try our hardest, Rob. And then we'll go get him.”

“Go get him?”

“Or will you leave and go stay with him?” Please no. Mac shrugged. He wanted him to stay more than anything in that moment so distracted himself with the first half of the problem. The cure for Duncan.
Xan's head was forming plans for Med-Tek. Which door they would use. Not the front . Where the windows were. Which doors locked in a lockdown. Which rooms he could remember. How many people would have been in the building when the bombs fell.
He grabbed his notebook from his bag. It was full of supply numbers. How many Stimpaks here, how many turrets there. He flipped to a clean page and started drawing the floor plan of Med-Tek as well as he could remember. Mac was watching over his shoulder, “Here's the staff access door. Might want to avoid the one in the car park,” he pointed to the marks he used for doors, “windows we can break, but none open. This door will be locked-down-”

Mac leaned his head on his shoulder, sagging heavily against him, “Thank you. I mean it.”

He slowly leaned his head against the top of Mac's, “You're welcome, Robbie.” They sat in silence and he carried on drawing the floor-plan. Planning routes and possible issues with access, “Rob?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you…” One thing I can taste .

Something shifted in the air. Xan paused and sat up straighter. Something was… off . He could've sworn he'd heard a bark? But now it was silent. Too silent, “Rob…the turrets.” The droning background noise of them was gone. He could hear a cricket somewhere.

There was a sudden loud bang and the door across from the beds was booted open, the lock and frame cracking from the impact. Two men in the green army uniform of Gunners barged in, guns raised and grinning. Mac went to stand with an angry fuck coming from him but was pushed back down as one of the gun barrels pressed against his forehead, “Well well well, if it isn't Arr Jay MacCready. ” One of them said before roughly grabbing Mac by the back of the neck and dragging him up, “You found him then?” Eyes that were yellow in the whites looked over at Xan, “Saves us a job, eh? Hello Lucas. ” Mac's rifle was by the armory. Stupid. The Gunner laughed and began to push Mac down.

“Leave him alone, he's nobody!” A heavy fist hit Mac across the face and he stumbled, blood dripping from a split lip. The two men were crowding Mac down to the ground as he panicked, shouting and kicking. Xan carefully, and as stoically and subtly as he could as he fought to ignore the sounds of Mac getting punched and kicked and the pain in his head, scrawled Gunners onto the page in his notebook and tapped it under his pillow. If they died, Will would find the culprits. He always did.

“Now now, Arr Jay, don't be like that. You'll hurt his feelings.” The other one said and Xan suddenly recalled the pair from the bar in Goodneighbor. The bigger one had tried to touch him. 

He was pulled off the bed by his hair as the big man ripped his cap off. He tried to fight; legs kicking, scratching and clawing at the hand pulling at his head, he tried to get his scalpel but it felt caught and twisted in the fabric of his sleeve. A deep thud and the air whooshed out of him as a knee was rammed into his chest. Something cracked and his breath hurt. He doubled over and could hear Mac shouting but the pain in his head wouldn't let him hear. The smell of blood and death filled his nose. He felt his arms being pulled roughly behind him, the motion wrenching the pain in his chest, and the stickiness of duct tape wrapped around his wrists. He looked up and the last thing he registered was Mac's wide eyes on his bloodied face before a crack to his head made everything go black.

***

Hancock was ecstatic as he pulled a Jet canister from the waistband of his pants. They were approaching the Red Rocket and it wouldn't be much longer before he and Will had some proper privacy.

Deacon had called the man Charmer and Hancock couldn't agree more. Will could do things with his mouth that had Hancock quivering at the memory. Oh, and his hands. And his hips. Damn, he was in deep and he didn't care.

It was dark night now, closer to this side of dawn, the moon and stars twinkling and reflecting on the snow, the lights were on at the petrol station. They followed Will up the hill, some jaunty tune playing from the PipBoy on his wrist that Will sang along to, "They call me the Wanderer. Yeah, the Wanderer. I roam around, around, around..." ready to let his brother know they were back from the Glowing Sea. It had been a nightmare journey and they were all ready for a break but at least they had a plan on what to do next to find Shaun. Kill a Courser. Easy.

Will paused on the road just before the Red Rocket, head tilted and a frown on his face, hand on his gun. The PipBoy went silent with a flick of his finger.

“Sunshine?”

Will shook his head and whispered, “The turrets.”

Danse rattled in his armour next to them, laser rifle powering up and Nick pulled out his .44, “The turrets are dead.”

“ Fuck .” Will dropped to a crouch, black armour blending into the shadow of the rapidly fading night, “Spread out. Find Xan and MacCready.”

They split up into pairs. Danse and Nick. Will and Hancock. 
They moved to the right whilst the others went left, slowly skirting the edge of the building. Will moaned low in his throat and Hancock looked over at what he could see as the man rushed over to a drift of snow. Snow stained red.

“Dogmeat! Dogmeat, hey boy…” the dog's tail wagged weakly and Hancock rushed over with a Stimpak for the pooch, “Here you go. Good boy. Good dog.” Will injected the dog and pulled his great black and tan head to his chest. The dog whined and Will carefully ran his fingers through his blood matted fur, “Good boy. Where's Luke, buddy?” The dog huffed and whined again.

His icy eyes looked around and his face paled. In the snow were signs of a fight, great swathes of it crushed down by many boot prints and scuff marks. Drag marks. More blood was there, drops and trails of it. Frozen and old and coagulated. Mac's bandoleer of bullets that was usually strapped to his thigh was scattered along the trail.

Will took a deep breath next to him and hefted the dog into his arms and made the slow way into the open door of the garage. He toed it open carefully and Hancock loaded his shotgun, cocking it as quietly as he could. 

A single lantern was lit, slowly fading as the oil started to run out, and the room was cool. The fire was out, ashes long cold, and more signs of a struggle. The bed had been scraped along the floor, a chair on its side. MacCready and Xan's hats and the merc's busted rifle were across the room, carelessly thrown into a pile with a forgotten shiny black .308, and the armory had obviously been looted.
Will lay the dog onto the couch whilst the Stimpak got to work stitching his flesh back together. He picked up MacCready's rifle, the barrel was bent and twisted as though someone had attempted to snap it. There was more old blood by and on the bed and a smeared hand-print on a wall.

Nick entered the room, “Where is he?”

Will growled in annoyance, some deep part of him barely registering that he wasn't alone right now, “If I knew that, Nick, I wouldn't be standing here. Find anything?”

Danse entered and shook his head, “Nothing. Some boot prints and old blood leading over to the wood, but no Xander or MacCready.”

“Send a flare. Get the Minutemen down here.”

Hancock sat on the couch, ragged hands gently stroking the fur of the dog, “Sunshine -”

“Fuck!” Will started pacing the room, chewing a fingernail as his great boots stomped in laps around the couch, dark eyebrows low over furious eyes. Hancock could feel the anxiety pouring off of him. The flare went off and Will was backlit in red as he raged. He started moving through the room, tipping chairs and tables. A flare in Sanctuary answered. Twenty minutes until backup arrived. Twenty minutes for Will to take out his fury on the furniture around them.

The bed was tossed, pillows, blankets, and hides spilling to the floor. Hancock popped a Mentat into his mouth. The kid's notebook fluttered to the ground and he stood to pick it up. He never went anywhere without it. He flicked through the pages as Will shouted into the night.
Medical supply numbers. Turrets. Ammo. Food. All the workings of the various settlements that dotted this side of the Commonwealth. 

Will screamed.

Hancock flipped the pages.
Floor-plans of a building. Assault plans? Routes were drawn, doors marked. Stick figures holding guns in the hastily drawn corridors. He flipped the page again.

A blood smear and one word.

Gunners

***

He was cold. He vaguely recalled his duster being torn away and thrown over the edge of the Mass Pike Interchange through the throbbing in his head. He could feel the concrete digging into the side of his face, shards of it pressing into his sore ribs and scraping at the open wounds in his skin. He was still bound and his arms had gone numb behind his back. He thought one of his fingers was broken but he couldn't feel them anymore. The cloth gag in his mouth was soaked in the clotting blood from where his teeth had cut open the inside of his cheeks when he’d been punched. Battered and broken. He didn’t want to open his eyes. Couldn’t bare to look at him again. His pale hair stained red from a cut to his scalp, his bruised eyes and split eyebrow, dripping nose. But, he had to. He had to make sure he was still alive.

He opened one eye and saw him. He was laying on his side, eyes closed, gagged and bound. The cold wind ghosting over the overpass was raising his hair. Was he breathing? He couldn’t tell. He stared at his chest beneath the baggy bloodstained hoodie. Was it moving? Was it? No. He tried to move closer. He twisted and thrashed trying to get to Xan and screamed into his gag. 

“Ah, sleeping beauty awakes!” A boot pressed down hard on his head and held him still, “Pick the kid up, Barnes.” He could only watch as Barnes grabbed Xan by the hair and yanked him up. If the situation were different, he would've cried in relief at hearing the little “Mff!” noise that came from him. His blue eyes snapped open and instantly met his. They were scared and so wide he could see the whites all the way around the iris. MacCready couldn't do anything. Barnes pulled Xan all the way to standing with one stinking meaty hand, “Shoulda stayed in your lane, whore. We warned you, Arr Jay. Didn’t we, Barnes?” Winlock said as he watched Barnes manipulate Xan with a sick grin.

“Sure did, Winlock. Told ‘im we’d make him watch, didn’t we?” Barnes had a hand wrapped around Xan’s neck now, the small man wincing as pressure was applied but he didn’t make a sound.
He hadn’t made any meaningful noise since they’d been taken from the Red Rocket. Even when they were kicked or stepped on or some Gunner tried to feel them up. He barely made a sound.

When he’d roused the first time during the journey south, he stared blankly ahead into some dark void where MacCready couldn't follow or, he watched Mac from where they’d been tied up opposite each other when the Gunners had made camp. He didn't try to murmur soothing sounds from around the blood-soaked gag that matched his own. He didn't try to hum or wriggle closer even as he winced through what Mac knew to be pain lancing through his head. He simply watched Mac and Mac watched him right back. Ignoring the men and women around them as they jeered and leered. Even when one Gunner came and jerked himself off near and over them, he grounded himself by counting the faint freckles on Xan’s face or watching his hair ruffle in the wind. He wasn’t sure where their hats were and was suddenly very aware again of how cold it was. Was it snowing again? Or had he just lost too much blood? He didn't know. How long had it been? A day? Two? 

His brain was pulled back to the now by Winlock's voice, “That we did. Now then, MacCready, where do you think we should start? Poor Lucas hasn’t had any attention since we got here.” Winlock moved his boot off of Mac’s head and approached Barnes and Xan, “I dare say he’s feeling lonely.” Winlock grabbed Xan’s face in one hand, thumb brushing the arch of his cheekbone, bruising, as he forced the man to look at him, “He’s a pretty little thing, how’d he end up with scum like you, Arr Jay?” Mac saw Xan’s eyes narrow at that and he jerked his head back to try and escape Winlock’s hand. The Gunner held firm and squeezed his jaw, fingers digging in hard and making Xan make a muffled pained noise. Mac thrashed on the ground, injuries he hadn't registered flaring into blooming pains as he screamed into his blood soaked gag.

Barnes laughed as he tightened the hold in the pale hair, “You fuck him yet? Get your dick wet in Lucas’ tight little hole?” The hand holding Xan’s neck moved down his sides and cupped his arse through his jeans. Xan squirmed and kicked but was lifted off the ground by his jaw by Winlock, “He’s a quiet little bitch, ain’t he?”

“Ha! Don’t worry, we’ll make him scream. ”

Xan's gag was pulled out of his mouth then and he spat at Winlock's face. A great red sticky smear of old blood dripped off the Gunner's chin as Xan finally broke his silence, “Eat shit, arsehole.”

Winlock pulled a knife and punched Xan across the mouth with the butt of it. Blood dripped from his chin. Mac writhed and twisted, willing his body to shift to try and do anything . He screamed and shouted through his gag, the sound garbled and wet. Winlock kicked him in the side of the head and painful lights erupted in his vision, “Stop that, you stupid little fucker. We’ve had you already. You're boring. It’s your man's turn now.”

Xan started kicking at the air and Mac could hear the shouts from him through the ringing in his head, “get the fuck away from us!” Barnes laughed, “Ooo, Winlock, he’s getting all warmed up for us. That throat nice and open now.”

“Let’s move poor old Arr Jay to a more prime viewing spot.” Winlock bent and grabbed the back of Mac’s scarf, pulling it tight against his throat and dragging him bodily toward the wooden wall of a shack. Visions of that shack haunted MacCready’s nightmares. The screaming and crying that had come from it. That had come from him . He’d been made to carve his Soulmate’s name into the wall, like many others before and after him had had to, and forced to read it out loud for Winlock and Barnes as they’d molested him.

Thankfully, he wasn’t taken inside, but his scarf was hooked to a nail that was jutting out one of the walls. He kicked and screamed. Barnes brought Xan closer and rested against the hood of an old car. He pulled Xan into his lap, forcing him to face MacCready and holding him tight against his chest, “He’s wearing quite a lot isn’t he, MacCready?”
The knife was pressed against the hollow of Xan’s throat, a single bead of blood welling at the steel point. Xan scowled and said, “Fuck you, fucker.” and then the knife dug in. Xan screamed and Mac thought his ears would bleed into his brain as the knife was dragged down where it sliced through the fabric of his hoodie and Grognak shirt underneath like they were nothing. A thin deep red line that oozed drops of blood, almost perfectly straight from neck to belly-button, trailed behind the knife, “Would you look at that, Barnes. As sweet as fresh snow. Shame about the name. Maybe we could carve it out of him before we play.” Xan panted heavily as the knife was pulled away from his lower belly.

Mac felt his brain shutdown and reboot. His heart was thundering in his chest and battering against his ribs. He thought it was going to stop or break a bone with how hard it was pounding. He could hear it through the blood roaring in his ears. Winlock had stepped away from his handiwork and gave MacCready a full view of Xan perched in Barnes' lap. He wanted to be sick and choked on his own bile.
Hoodie and shirt cut open, hanging from his narrow shoulders and flapping in the wind. A wiry muscled chest of perfect pale skin that moved down to a flat stomach and narrow hips. Marred by the red line and black handwriting over the left side of his rib-cage. His handwriting.

Robert Joseph MacCready

Xan’s head was hanging low as he panted. Mac could see a tear drip from his nose and he wanted nothing more than to take hold of him and hide him away. Take him from this place and tell him it would be okay. They’d get Duncan and go live alone where fuckers like Winlock and Barnes couldn’t touch them.
The Gunners had stolen a moment from him. A moment that should’ve been a happy revelation. A private desperate moment between the two of them and them alone. He wasn’t even mad that Xan had kept it from him. He could kind of understand why. Maybe? If they got out of this he’d make sure that Xan would know that. Xan? Lucas. Lucas Alexander Rake. Xander. He felt so fucking stupid . He felt tears spill from his eyes as he just stared at Xan helplessly.

He’d missed whatever Winlock had said as his mind spiraled out. He focused back up and saw that Xan was watching him again. He tried to tell him with his eyes that he wasn’t mad. All he saw was fear and sadness and pain. He didn’t want to imagine the migraine that was probably pulling at him now. Probably a small pain compared to Winlock and Barnes. 

“Oh, fuck, Barnes. Little Arr Jay didn't know!” Winlock howled with laughter, “This sweet little squeeze kept it from him! Hoo boy! I bet that hurts, huh MacCready? He didn't want you after all. Why would a little beauty like this want some used up scumbag like you, eh?” He laughed again and Xan shirked away from the hand running up his chest.

Xan spoke, voice full of anger and conviction, and it felt like a balm to Mac's soul, even in the situation they were in, “I do want him.” He looked at Winlock with bleary eyes, split eyebrow and bleeding lips dripping, “You piece of shit.” Winlock laughed before he backhand Xan across the face. His head snapped to the side with a cry. He squirmed a little and Barnes pulled him tight against his chest and spread his legs.

“I tell you what, Arr Jay,” Winlock growled out as his eyes roamed over Xan, “we'll give you a really good show. A little going away gift.”

“Oh, yeah, we'll even get a fire going. That way, if he croaks, his thighs will stay warm.” Barnes shifted to allow Winlock to cut the tape holding Xan's arms behind his back and he pulled them to have them re-tied in front of him. Mac knew why. He'd had it done to himself. Easier manipulation over a bedpost.
Mac strained against his bonds and his scarf dug into his neck as he choked. He kicked to try and get enough purchase beneath his legs to get free.

“Real shame about the name.” The knife was pressed against Xan's ribs as one of Barnes' hands moved lower to his belt and began to slowly unbuckle it. The jeans went a little slack around his hips and Mac tried desperately to push himself up. He wanted to yell for them to take him instead. He needed to get up. He needed to stop them from taking Lucas from his. He was his. 
“Maybe if we gave it some emphasis, it'll bring MacCready some comfort, hmm?”
Xan screamed. Loud and blood curdling and piercing as the knife sliced in hard. The hair rose on the back of his neck and Mac could hear the blade tearing through the skin and scraping over bone as a thick red line was drawn beneath his name. His name was being underlined in a gore strewn gaping ragged wound. Red and pink and white as muscle and bone were laid bare beneath the glinting red dripping steel. The blood poured and Mac wanted to die. He wanted to murder. He wanted to kill them all. Death was better than hearing Xan cry. The vision at the periphery of his eyes went red and he screamed as loud as he could. Could a scream tear his own throat open?

Xan started weakly kicking again as he was pulled from Barnes' knee. Fat hands roving over his body and he fought with his legs to try and stop his clothing being pulled away from him.

A slight whistle in the air buzzed and then there was a great splatter of blood that speckled Xan's face and his blue eyes went even wider. An awful pause of silence. Blood flowed and spilled to the concrete beneath them all. Winlock stumbled forward. He was gurgling as he fell on top of Xan, both of them spilling to the ground in a shower of red.
Barnes shouted and spun pulling his gun from its holster by his hip. He'd seemed to have completely forgotten about Mac and Xan. So completely that his heavy booted foot stepped on Xan's un-moving head as he ran toward some shouting further down the interchange. Mac screamed. He screamed so loud and hard into his gag that he felt the blood vessels burst in his eyes. The blood in his mouth bubbled and he wanted to be sick. His scarf around his neck was choking him as he pulled and pulled against it. 

Then Xan moved. A little shuffling as he tried to wriggle out from underneath the gurgling and gasping Winlock as he choked around a hole in his neck. He shimmied and kicked, using his hands to push as the tape, wet with blood, came loose. He dragged himself over the concrete, a red trail from the wound to his side smearing over his jeans and boots. Winlock’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the ankle and Xan screamed again, his voice hoarse and wavering. Mac watched in equal parts horror and astonishment as the small man forced his body to twist and contort to sit up and face Winlock. More blood spilled from his side and pooled beneath him. The silver of the scalpel that was always in his sleeve flashed from beneath his shredded hoodie, finally able to be freed with his hands unbound. He used both hands to drive the blade, usually a tool for healers, hard into Winlock’s face. Then his neck. And again. Again. Again. He kept going, screaming as gunfire echoed down the overpass. Blood spurted and, eventually, Winlock stopped making noise and his black eyes went blank.
Xan stopped, painted in red, and fell back. His head made a loud thudding noise as it met the ground. He groaned and turned back onto his belly and continued to drag himself over the concrete toward MacCready like a slow moving freshly turned feral. Mac could see his eyes becoming unfocused. He was bleeding from where Barnes had trodden on his head and from where he’d bumped it against the rough terrain. His side steadily pumped out a thick river of red. They had to stop the bleeding. It was too much blood. He was too pale.

Xan’s blood smeared hands found Mac’s thighs and used the mercenary to drag himself up. His eyes became level with Mac’s and Mac saw the tears gathering on his eyelashes and spilling down his cheeks. They left little clean streaks behind and he wished he could wipe them away. His mouth was turning blue at the edges.
Xan took the scalpel and cut at the fraying edges of the scarf being held by the nail and Mac could suddenly breathe again. Xan sagged against him, arms winding around to his back where Mac felt his nimble fingers undoing the tape that held his wrists.

As soon as his arms were free, MacCready grabbed Xan and dragged them both to shelter, running on pure adrenaline. The gunfire was getting louder and closer and he could see the red light of an Assaultron sweeping the area. People were shouting and screaming. So much screaming. He shuffled them into the shack of his nightmares and collapsed over the top of Xan and tried to shelter his bleeding body with his own. Their blood mixed. He refused to look up at the carved names on the walls. Refused to find his . 

Shaking hands pulled his gag from his mouth, “Lucas?” He whispered but his eyes were shutting, blood was pooling in the dip of his sternum and dripping to the wood beneath them. It was in his ears and dripping from his nose, “No no no. Don’t go to sleep! Xan!” He ripped his scarf away and bunched it before pressing it hard against the wound to his side. It was too deep and bleeding too much. He could see the bones of his ribs, “Help! Somebody!” He screamed but his voice cracked. He pressed harder and willed the blood to stop.

“Robert…”

The boom of a shotgun and a yell, “Lucas, please stay awake, please.” His eyes scanned the room. There must be something in here. Any kind of stim or chem would do. Anything to get some adrenaline into his fucking Soulmate . There was nothing but names and pain. He could barely see through the blurring of the water in his eyes.

A loud explosion went off nearby and he heard someone shout, “Where are they you fucking bastard!?” but he couldn’t let up the pressure on Xan’s side.

“They were just here, I swear!” He dimly recognised Barnes’s voice.

“Rob…can you…” His eyes were shutting, the blue turning cloudy with approaching unconsciousness.

“Sunshine! Here!”

Hancock! He tried to scream it but it came out a whisper. His hands were shaking. His blood was all over them, soaking into his nail beds and into his knees where he knelt in it. He couldn’t breathe.
“ Please… I just found you…” He didn’t care that his tears were dripping all over Xan’s face. He didn’t care that he couldn’t hear anymore. He just wanted him to stop bleeding. They were meant to settle down somewhere. Get Duncan and just be . He’d promised they’d go and get Duncan together. He felt the ragged sob leave him. Xan was so still beneath his hands, “Lucas…don’t leave me here alone. I’m so scared.”

He was bodily lifted away from Xan and he screamed, tried to punch or kick at whoever was pulling him up. Huge metal arms wrapped around him and a tinny voice said, “It’s okay, soldier, Hancock has him now.” He registered the red frock coat of Hancock bent over Xan. The hiss of a heaven sent Stimpak filled his ears. And another one. And another one.

Hancock shouted out, “He needs a doctor! Will! We have to go to Oberland!”

Mac was pulled out of the shack and he could see the carnage left behind by the General of the Minutemen and his friends. Barnes was shaking and crying on the ground beside the dead body of Winlock with Will and a red-headed woman standing over him. The Gunner's nose was shattered and one leg was bent in an unnatural way. Down the way, MacCready could vaguely see the blues and greys of the Minutemen as they checked the many many bodies of Gunners left behind in the carnage.

“There! See? I told you they were fine!” Barnes was trying to reason with the big man in black and Minutemen stars. He gestured vaguely at MacCready, “He’s fine!”

Hancock carried out Xan, blood dripping and making the red coat redder. His hoodie was splayed open and drifted in the wind, exposing his pale chest and stomach. Deacon appeared out of nowhere behind the Ghoul and took Mac's scarf away from the ragged wound to his side. He grimaced as he looked at it and shook his head at Will. Will’s eyes narrowed dangerously. First on Barnes and then on MacCready, “My brother doesn’t look fine. Does he, Cait?” One massive boot came down and pinned Barnes’ arm to the concrete. The Gunner shouted and begging words spilled from him. Whatever he had seen the General and his friends do on the Interchange had made him deathly afraid.

“Sure doesn’t.” Cait, who had a thick accent from somewhere Mac couldn't identify, had an evil grin that stretched nearly from ear to ear as she handed Will a dangerous looking dark dagger. She had a steel bat strapped to her hip that was splattered with red and pieces of flesh and bone.

“MacCready, can you remember what I said to this fucker in the bar when I hired you?” Barnes' eyes went wide with recognition, a sudden remembrance of the man threatening him in the Third Rail of Goodneighbor.

Mac swallowed, he was so thirsty and cold and Danse was doing all the heavy lifting for him as he tried to stand properly, “Yeah, boss.”

Will knelt over Barnes, “And? What did I say, Mac?”

Mac gathered all his strength in a great stuttering breath. He looked Barnes in the eye and spat at the ground in front of the cowering man. A great gobful of blood and bile, “You said, and I quote, ‘You wanna keep that hand? Then keep it to yourself, sicko. ’” He threw as much contempt and spite and poison into it as he could. He wanted Barnes to hurt. Wanted him to bleed like they’d made Xan bleed.

“Right on the money, Mac. And we always keep our promises.” The dagger moved so quickly. One second; it was taunting Barnes by hovering over his face, the next, it was meeting concrete, severing Barnes’ hand at the wrist. The Gunner screamed and bucked in an effort to dislodge Will from him, “I saw what you tried to do.” He lifted a strap over his head and Mac saw the sleek black rifle that Xan had given him a few days ago. It had a silencer fastened to the barrel now, “You filthy sick fuck. Do that to my family? To my friends? No. I’ve raised that boy for too long for some piece of shit like you to take him away from us. ” Will was screaming in Barnes face now, “He's MY son! You can't take him from us!” Will gestured vaguely between them all and no one dared correct him. The big man stood and pulled Barnes up with him with one hand, the petrified Gunner's face was purple from where he couldn't get enough air. Will's other hand held the rifle out to Mac and the Merc took it with shaking hands, still held up by Danse, “You want revenge, Mac?”

Mac looked over at Xan. Lucas . He was cradled against Hancock, the scarf wrapped tightly around his ribs, blue eyes shut and covered in his own blood, “ Yes.” It came out a hiss from his too dry throat.

“Good man.” Was all Will said as Mac raised the rifle and put a bullet through Barnes’ forehead.

***

The small eight year old sat between the beds that held his parents. The scratching white sheets, the white walls, the white floor. Everything was so clean and the smell of antiseptic filled his head and burnt his nose. 
He sat and waited for them to wake up. To sit up and pull the tubes out of their mouths and noses and arms. To pull the stitches holding their skin together. To pull him into a hug and tell him that it would be okay.

He'd been here for days. He wanted his dad to take them home. He wanted his brother.

So he sat in silence and waited. And waited. And waited. Between the dying forms of his mother and father.

They, the nurse and doctors and rescue teams, didn't know how he'd survived the wreck. Their car had been hit head on at a t-junction. The fusion engine had caught fire and he'd been pulled out of the wreckage with just a few bruises and scrapes. The rescue team had been expecting his mangled burnt corpse. Every inch of him had been checked and, apart from being Unmarked, he seemed fine. But his head hurts so bad and there was a gnawing in his side that itched.
He didn't speak. Didn't react to questions. Didn't tell them how he was feeling. Didn't eat. The nurses and doctors looked weird. One doctor had very badly burnt skin and his teeth clacked when he spoke.

They'd tried to contact his brother, the twenty three year old corporal who was stuck in Anchorage with the war. His supervisors wouldn't tell the medical staff why he couldn't come home with extenuating circumstances, just that he couldn't. They sent a letter. A letter that had stick figure drawings of a small child and two men in hats holding hands.

They tried to contact friends of the family but no one answered. A red old tailcoat from the civil war and a set of Power Armour was hung up by the door. 

The boy was alone. His parents were moving and writhing beside him.

“Sweet as fresh snow…”

The door clattered and rattled in its frame and he waited for the woman who always entered to come inside. The door was banging as someone desperately tried to get in. His parents sat up and the door flew open.
Instead of the social worker that usually came through though, it was a man in a long tattered duster coat and a green hat that had two bullets tucked into its band. He wore bullets everywhere and they glinted like medals of valor. Of bravery. He held a hand out for him but he didn’t know if he should go with him. His mother was holding his hand, nails digging in, and pulled him to lay down with her.

“Real shame about the name. Maybe if I give it some emphasis, it'll bring mmmffmmttff some comfort…”

“Lucas, please.”

“He kept it from him. He doesn't want him.”

His head and ribs hurt.

The bed folded around him and they fell into darkness. He felt like he was underwater, the gentle current carrying him and his parents in a bubble of cool sea salt. The man in the green hat and bullets followed. He was swimming fast toward them, air bubbles thrashing around him. He didn't know whether to help him or not. His wide eyes are the colour of a gun barrel and he smells like bonfire.

His father gripped his upper arm. Fingertip bruises bloomed. Blue and yellow and black. He looked round at his father but it wasn’t him. It was his brother, “your my son" Icy blue eyes and pale blonde hair just like his own flickered and lifted in the water. He looked older and had a scar on his chin and across his nose. His eyes went black and glittered like starlight, “Come on kid…let's go.”

His mother and father called out to him, “Lucas! Lucas…come home with us…”

The man with gunmetal eyes reached out held his hand so gently. He said something but no words came out under the water. He had a bloodstained scarf that was being tugged by the current and it drifted away into the deep black below them. The man had a black smudge on his throat and he raised a hand to gently grab him by the back of his neck, scarred fingers playing in the fine white hair there. The man pulled him close, foreheads bumping together as they curled up around each other. Did he know him? Was he here to stay with him and his parents? To let the current take them away. No. His eyes were sad and he smelled like a bonfire.

One thing I can taste.

“Lucas…please…”

"I don’t think I should go with you, mum.” He said to her as her fingers dug into his ribs. Clawing at him and making blood pool around them.

Platinum hair swirled about his mother's face and she was watching him with big silver reflective eyes. He looked older in the mirror like orbs, and so tired and sore, “Hey, Quiet…”

The man in the hat whispered in his ear and his breath made him shiver in the cool water, “Please.”

His father, or was it his brother? Shouted at him, “Time to wake up! You’ll be late for work! You have to go to Med-Tek!”

“Xan."

“Alexander!"

"Captain Rake."

“Lucas!”

“...please…wake up…”

***

Oberland was a smaller settlement but it was well supplied and defended. Turrets chugged merrily, a great wall surrounded the buildings and farm, and the people worked to keep the supply line going. Mac didn't care about any of it. His jaw hurts. He'd been Stimpacked and healed after Mass Pike and then  punched so hard by Will he thought he'd broken his neck. A purple bruise covered the left side of his chin and mouth.

“I always keep my promises. You have one more chance for Xan's sake. But if even a Radroach nips at his ankles, all bets are off. Clear?”

“Yeah, boss.”

That had been three days ago and Xan still hadn't woken up. The doctor, a ghoul so ghoulified that his lips were gone and all his teeth were on show. They clicked when he spoke, “You should ressst.” He'd said on the first day but Mac didn't move, “He has a concussion, he'll wakkke when he'ssss ready.”

A concussion . The gash to his side had looked worse than it was and he had two broken ribs from where he had been kneed. But his skull had been cracked when Barnes had stepped on his head and there was a bleed somewhere on his brain. The Stimpaks were helping but the brain took a while to recover apparently.

Mac stayed by the cot that Xan was lying on. His friends had given up trying to make him leave and someone draped his recovered duster over his shoulders. When the sun rose on the second day they brought another cot so he could at least lie down beside him. 

“Get some sleep, Mac.” Will had said, big hand gripping his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. 
He came many times a day to see Xan. He sat beside Mac and whispered in his brother's ear.

“I don't know what I'd do if I lost you too.”

“Come on, you're gonna be late.”

Deacon had come by, put a magazine in Mac's restless hands and said, “Hey, Quiet…” he didn't look like Xan. His face was lax and bruised. Black eyes and a blood clotted nose. His hair was stained pink still and Mac wanted to make it pale again. He was so quiet. 
His breath came in sharp ragged gasps. So shallow and his heartbeat was a flutter at the pulse point on his neck. Mac kept checking it to make sure it was still there. 

He was bare chested. The red line was healed and barely visible, the gash underscoring his name on his ribs was closed and stitched. Mac rested his head on a folded arm beside Xan's body just to watch his chest rise and fall in a shaky staccato. His arm had gone numb a long time ago but he couldn't stand the thought of moving.
His fingers gently trailed over his name. Flowing with the messy scrawl of his handwriting. 

“Lucas…please…” He doesn't think he'd ever cried so much in his life. Silent tears spilling down his face and wetting the scruff of his facial hair. It dripped and dripped and dripped.

The third day came. When did he last eat? Last drink any water? Someone had brought him food and drink but it sat untouched on the steel table beside him. The doctor moved around him. He'd given up asking him to move. Bags of fluid were changed where they drained down the lines stuck in Xan's arms, stitches were checked, gentle ravaged and warped fingers checking the breaks in his skull and ribs.

Mac lay down on the cot beside Xan and carefully kept his hand over his ribs to feel his heart. He pressed his face as close to his as possible without disturbing the delicate fluid lines.

“Please, wake up.”

He finally fell asleep. His body rebelling against his mind after days and days sitting vigil beside his Soulmate.

***

“Duncan!” The sun was shining and the bustle of the nearby Sanctuary could be heard over the babbling river that surrounded it. The grass was green and the weather was warm, “Duncan!” He couldn't see the source of the voice but he knew who it was. Lucas. Awake and alive and laughing as he called for the boy, “Come on, Duncan! We have it right here!” He left the little cabin they'd built. Two bedrooms, little living room/kitchen, bathroom. He was so warm, “I promised your dad! Duncan!”

Promised him what?

The sun blinded him for a moment and he let himself adjust. Today they'd planned on showing Lucas how to shoot. There was tarp on the ground ready and cans set up. 

Almost white hair was lit up in a halo in the beams of light from the sunrise. He turned to face him slowly, blue eyes glinting and a wide smile that lit up the air around him. Like an angel from a book he'd read.

“Robert.”

“Yeah?”

“Robbie!”

“Ha! What? I'm right -”

He jerked awake to a small cold hand on his face. He looked at Xan and his blue eyes were drowsy in the beam of sunlight that was filtering through a small hole in the metal roof above them. He wanted to cry again. He was awake, “Lucas.”

He whispered back, “Hey -” Mac kissed the corner of his mouth, cutting off whatever he was about to say. Xan turned his face so that he could meet him briefly. His lips were chapped but the sigh that escaped him was heaven. He pulled back with a wince and his voice was raw, “I'm so thirsty.” It was the best sentence he'd ever heard.
He sat up and reached over to the table where cans of water had been slowly accumulating over the last few days and cracked one open. He helped Xan carefully sit up but he huffed out a pained breath and Mac shifted so that Xan could lean against his chest. He brought the can to his mouth and he took a small sip, “I'm sorry.”

Mac frowned and tucked his chin against the top of Xan's head, “What could you possibly be sorry for? I'm the one the Gunners were after.”

“I don't care about the Gunners.” His voice was still raw and Mac helped him take another sip.

“Then what?” His hand had wrapped its way around the smaller man's waist without him telling it to. Xan shuffled a bit and pressed harder against him.

“For not telling you before they…” His head tucked under Mac's chin further, “Before they did it for me.”

That stolen moment. The one he'd dreamed of since finding out what the name at his throat meant.

When he'd been younger, he and the other kids at Little Lamplight whispered about what they'd do if they found their person. He'd said he'd probably punch them in the face for taking so long to find him. He'd imagined some big hero like the Wanderer who had come to their home once. Broad chested and armed to the teeth. 

When he'd left Little Lamplight he'd imagined someone who would just be there to talk to. Literally anyone . A Ghoul, a raider, a Paladin of the Brotherhood of Steel. He didn't care. Just a guy with no face who walked beside him.

When he'd met Lucy. He'd tried to imagine Lucas as her. Lucas and Lucy. Lucy and Luke. But then, when they'd argue, he couldn't imagine his Lucas saying some of the spiteful things she spat at him. Didn't want to imagine his Luke hitting him as he shouted, “You spend half your time pretending you're somewhere else! With someone else. Some fucking homo. You gonna let him fuck you, RJ?” He'd shouted back at her because of course he did but it hadn't been worth the waste in energy. They were tired and stressed and nomadic, “Some guy will walk by us and you'll hear his name and you'll fucking run away to him. Like you always do. Go on and get fucked!”
And, after Duncan was born, he knew he'd leave her instantly. Friend and mother of his child or not. It wouldn't even be a question or debate in his mind. If Lucas introduced himself, he'd take his son and go after him. Some capable man who would be there for them. Not call him names or scream and lay hands on him in anger.
He'd felt bad for those thoughts after she died. After she'd screamed at him to run with Duncan. She'd been scared of being left alone just like he was.

Every town he and Duncan hit, he'd try to find a Lucas. One time he'd heard a woman shouting the name over a busy market and he'd spun in a slow circle to find the man the name belonged to. It had been a six year old boy and the woman had been his mother. 

When he settled on the farm, he felt some kind of closure. A tentative peace. Maybe he was just destined to be one of the unlucky folk who never found their name. Then Duncan got sick and he prayed that fate would place the man before him. Was he one of the doctors he hired? One of the traders that rolled by? One of the Brotherhood who had knocked on one night during their patrol? 

He wanted his Soulmate to come save him from the Gunners. To bust down the door of the shack and murder Winlock and Barnes before scooping him up and carrying him away. He'd dreamt it more times than he could count during those cold and terrible nights.

And then, he met the General of the Minutemen and his small know-it-all brother. The sneaky man who moved silently with sticky fingers, fixed turrets like they were nothing, fixed people as easily as breathing. Had worked at fucking Med-Tek. And he couldn't imagine him being anyone else. This little funny pale nerd who could barely shoot a pistol.

“I'm not mad, Lucas.” He pushed his nose into his blood stained hair, “I've been looking for you for so fuc-freaking long.”

“...okay.” His voice was quiet and he felt him relax against him, “I don't think you're scum, Robert. And I do want you. So badly…” His breathing deepened and Mac held onto him for dear life.

***

As always, comments and suggestions are welcome :)

Chapter Text

The next afternoon, after a full night of travel that put strain on Mac and Xan's still healing bodies, Will dropped them off at the Red Rocket. Xan had had to fight with him over being allowed to stay there. He was still tired and groggy from Med-X but was holding his own against the bigger brother anyways. Mac wasn't sure how he could. How could the small wiry man who couldn't shoot a rifle stand up to the General of the Minutemen?

The images of the Interchange in the aftermath of their rescue by the General, his friends, and the Minutemen would forever stick with him. So many bodies. Not that MacCready minded , the Gunners deserved it. But, he could tell which bodies were the result of Will's rage.
Some of the dead had been killed cleanly and quickly. Bullet holes to their heads and chests or a swift caving of the skull from a steel bat. Others though? The bodies that Mac just knew were Will's kills? Throats had been torn out, limbs twisted, whole faces removed. No mercy. No quick deaths. Just rage and anger and revenge.
How could you possibly stand up to someone who could do that? But there Xan stood. Defiant. Annoyed. Full of contempt. Hands on his hips and face tilted up to meet his brother's sparking eyes with his own matching electric.
He felt his knees shaking as they stood waiting for Will to decide whether Xan should go to Sanctuary or not.

“It's our home, Will. I like it.”

“You were both nearly killed!” He swung his arms out and there was a brief moment where Mac thought he was going to shove Lucas down like he had during the last argument they'd had.

“But we weren't! I promise, I'll send a flare every day! Let you send whoever you'd like to check on us. Please, don't take me to Sanctuary! I can't stand it.” Mac didn't meet Will's eyes. He'd stay where Xan stayed. Here, Sanctuary, a sewage pipe. He didn't care.

“Xan -”

“It's too loud there! It's quiet with Robert. Please, Will!” It's quiet with Robert. Mac wasn't sure exactly what he meant but was happy about it regardless. He didn't think he was a particularly quiet person but Xan liked him so he wasn't going to question it. He'd said he wanted him.

Will had paused on the road that led up to the Red Rocket and looked down at his brother. Xan stared right back. Faces frowning and silent as though they were having a secret conversation in their minds. The others were watching too, Hancock was tense and Mac was staring down at the slowly melting snow. They waited for the tension to snap. For fists to fly and screaming to start. A crow cawed making them jump. 
He couldn't handle watching the brothers have a fight right now. He just wanted to lie down in their bed with Lucas, light the fire, and read a magazine. He felt overwhelmed and raw. Killing the Gunners had been something he'd hoped would happen since that first day after he'd joined them. Burning the shack down had been cathartic. Xan waking up in Oberland had cured some deep ache inside of him. He just wanted to sleep. He wanted to curl up and forget the Overpass and forget that stolen moment.

It was Deacon who talked Will down, “I'll check on them myself, Charmer. Every morning. You gotta let them have space, man. He'll resent you if you don't.”

Xan kept his face schooled in neutrality as he watched his brother cave, “Fine. But I'm checking it over first.”

“Okay.”

They made it inside the petrol station and Will got to work. The turrets sputtered back to life, Dogmeat was checked on and seemed back to his usual self, the garage roller door was shut and locked, traps were set, the busted door put back into its frame and blocked. The whole time, Xan followed Will around whispering. Every now and then, Will hummed or made an assenting noise. Mac almost groaned when his Soulmate picked up his notebook from the strewn mess of the garage. The man wasn't even fully healed and he was already planning the assault on Med-Tek again. Couldn't he just rest ? Heal and sleep and forget with him? He flicked through the pages quickly and showed Will the plans he had drawn the night they had been taken. How long ago had that been? Five days? Six? Time had blurred and warped his mind. Melding it into one weird cacophony starting from the kiss in Sanctuary to Xan waking up with a new scar. He was muttering as Will looked over his shoulder as he plugged in lights. His eyes went wide and he met Mac's.

“He has a what !?”

“Jesus, Will, keep your voice down!” Xan winced and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Please, I'm so tired.”

Will quieted himself with a pitying expression for his brother but was staring at Mac with his mouth open, hand gripping Xan's arm. Mac sighed, mentally picturing a new bruise, and shrugged, “He's called Duncan.” The man had a way of making him feel so exposed. Like he could peer into his soul and pull all his wants and secrets out and lay them flat on a table to read like a book. Or maybe he was just too worn out to fight it.

“Wait wait wait. You've had a kid this whole time? What about Xan?”

Xan groaned and started massaging his temples, “Pot calling the kettle black that.” Mac wasn't sure what that meant. He felt himself sag against the door frame, he was too exhausted for this line of conversation. He just wanted to lie down and pass out. The sleep he'd managed yesterday hadn't been enough after the Gunners and him staying awake for three days. He thought he'd maybe start hallucinating soon, “How's it any different to you and Hancock?” Xan continued and Will stared down at his brother dumbfounded, “It's not like he cheated on me, Will. We were frozen happy meals for two hundred years.” Did it count as being unfaithful to be with someone other than your Soulmate before you knew them? He'd never regret his son but did people usually save themselves before the bombs dropped? His tired brain flickered with a tiny tendril of guilt. Should I have saved myself? No, because then Duncan wouldn't have been born and his son was one of the best things that ever happened to him. 

Did Xan have experience? He'd never mentioned a boyfriend or girlfriend before. What was it like before the war? Was it as casual as it sometimes was now? People just finding a warm body for a quick tumble? Xan had told him it was rare to be Unmarked back then and that it was considered bad luck and freakish . So, did Unmarked people sleep with Marked people? Or were they just expected to be alone forever?
Now his brain was leading down an exhausted convoluted path of jealousy and worry. Would Xan expect him to show him how that stuff works? He'd never been with a man, barring a few desperate times with his mouth for caps and the Gunners which he didn't count. He didn't know how it was meant to be. Would it feel weird like it had with Lucy? Would it hurt like it had with the Gunners? Would he be pinned down…forced…cry. He squeezed his eyes shut and focused on the conversation happening around him.

“Well, what're you gonna do? You're just a kid!” Mac lit a cigarette just for something to do with his hands.

Xan scowled as he carefully lowered himself to the couch, wincing as his injuries and migraine pulled, “Well, obviously, we're gonna get the cure from Med-Tek and then go get Duncan. I already promised so you can either come with us or not.”

Will sat beside him, his huge frame dwarfing his brother as he wrapped an arm over his shoulders, “Fucks sake, Xander.” They sat in silence together for a few long minutes and Mac lingered by the door with Hancock, passing the cigarette between each other, “Fucking fine . But after you're all healed up. And you wear black. And you stay silent.”

“I know .” He said it like they'd had this conversation before. Maybe when they'd been wandering the Commonwealth before Mac and Hancock joined them.

“Two days. We'll go Med-Tek. Then go get Mac's boy. You, me, Mac, Hancock, Danse.”

Mac wanted to collapse. Two days. Two days and he'd be on his way back to the farm with the General of the Minutemen himself, the Ghoul Mayor of Goodneighbor, a Paladin of the Brotherhood of fucking Steel, and his Soulmate . It didn't feel real. He felt himself sway and the gnarled hand of Hancock held him by the elbow, “Don't you worry, Mac.”

He wasn't worried. He was excited . Weirdly exhaustively happy . His boy had a fighting chance.

***

Will left and Mac and Xan spent a little time tidying up themselves and the mess left behind by Will's anger. They were so tired that they barely spoke. Xan's migraine had them keeping the lighting low. Even the single lantern had him squinting.
They crawled onto the bed with a quick meal between them that they slowly ate beneath the blankets. 

“‘m sorry.” Mac said to him as he removed his shirt, bloodied scarf, and boots and lay down. He had deep dark smudges under his eyes and his eyelids were heavy as his head fell onto the pillow.

“What for?” Xan followed suit with removing his shirt and boots and lay down beside him, pulling the blankets and hides tight around them.

Mac shrugged with a frown, “I'm just so tired. But I have so much I wanna talk to you about.” His eyes were already closing. His hand carefully found its way to Xan's ribs, hovering for a moment, and then laying over his name with great sleepy care.

Xan curled into the touch and let one of his fingers brush over the chicken-scratch handwriting on Mac's throat, “You have nothing to be sorry for, Robbie. We can talk after sleep…”
Xan's head hit the pillow and he felt the remaining throbbing of his concussion pulse through his mind. The deep sharp pain behind his eyes and over the still healing lacerations and contusions. The doctor in Oberland had been good but nothing like Kenzie. Maybe he should send for her? Get some more Med-X? Maybe he should get up and continue the plans for Med-Tek more. Where would Duncan sleep? Could they build a bedroom? Should they move to the safety of Sanctuary? How old was he? Did he look like Robert? Was he too far gone? Was Med-Tek a waste of time?

Five things…

Robert’s heavy leg flopped over his thigh in his sleep, hand still curled over his chest. The migraine was still there but he could cope without a Med-X or Stimpak. The smell of gunpowder and oil and bonfire filled his nose. He rolled onto his side and felt his Merc's hand tighten on him briefly before settling again when he stopped moving. Mac was breathing heavily and he could feel his breath in his hair.

“G’night, Rob.”

***

He and Hancock were sitting on the roof of their home, passing a beer between them and looking out to the Red Rocket. He could just make out the lights on the old petrol station and he kept watching. Just in case. Always watching for a disturbance or the red shock of a flare. He should've stayed with them. He was debating getting up and running down there when Hancock hummed beside him as he took a pull on some Jet before brushing his hand against his where it sat supporting him on the slight incline of the roof, “Don't worry about the Gunners, Sunshine, we'll handle them.”

Will smiled at the nickname, “I'm not worried about those fuckers. Was thinking about reclaiming Quincy anyways, they've just made it personal now is all.” The image of seeing what was happening through Mac's scope would forever be seared into his brain. Mac; pinned to the wall, struggling and crying to try and get up to get to Luke, face so pale and scared and young looking. Xan; held between those two fucking scumbags, sliced open like a piece of meat, fat stinking hands roaming over his body. He'd heard and felt his scream deep deep inside himself. He'd aimed for the fuckers head but he was never very good at sniping and caught his neck instead. He'd punched Mac so hard in the jaw in the aftermath and the guy had just accepted it. He held Hancock's hand and kept watching the rocket.

“You called him your son.” Will stilled. Had he? He looked at Hancock with a confused expression. His Ghoul's black eyes glittered in the dark and he had a small smile on his scarred face, “When you were killing that sick fuck on the interchange.” Hancock didn't look like he was judging him for it, “Just wondering why .” 

He looked back out at the Red Rocket again and sighed before laying down on the roof. Hancock scooted closer and put a hand on his chest and absently let his finger tap out a rhythm on him, “I was worked up, guess it just slipped out.”

A gravel laugh, like the crackling of a warm fire or the crunch of snow beneath boots, came from Hancock as his hand moved up to gently sweep his hair off his forehead, “Pretty big slip.”

“Lucas…he's…” he didn't know how to start but Hancock was patient when he wanted to be. They sat quietly for a few minutes just listening to the nighttime noises of Sanctuary around them.

“Our parents had him late. A little happy surprise to complete the family. I was sixteen and already preparing to go off to boot camp. My dad was high up in the ranks, and his dad before him, for generations so it just made sense that that was what I'd do too.” Hancock lay down beside him and got comfortable for the story. He tipped his hat over his eyes and just listened to him.
“Anyway, there I was getting ready to become an adult, and all of a sudden there's this little tiny baby. Pale and blue eyed like me. He's always been small. He was born premature but he makes up for it with his brain. The first time I held him I just knew that he was mine. My brother, my best friend, together for life. We were Unmarked and my parents made me swear that I'd keep him close so that we wouldn't be lonely. It was a bit of a shock when we woke up in the Vault and I had your name on me, John.”

Hancock chuckled with a wry grin. Self deprecating and self conscious, “Yeah well, fate has a funny way of being a bitch, Sunshine.”

Will leaned up on his elbow and looked down at Hancock. He pushed his hat back off his face and bent to kiss him, “Wouldn't change you for the world, sweetheart.”

“Sweet words like that will get you everywhere.” Hancock kissed him back before saying, “Finish your story.”

“Hmm, you just like hearing me talk.” Hancock jabbed him with a laugh, “Okay, okay. He's always been stoic. Quiet. Suffers with migraines. He was born with them, something about a crossed nerve or vein or something. I dunno. He used to cry about them until he was about three and then just kinda…well…went quiet. ”

He paused as the memory of his little baby brother crying his big blue eyes out and holding his head. Trying to rip the hair out at the roots and screaming so hard his throat bled. There had been literally nothing they could do except pump him with painkillers and hope that they'd find a cure or surgery that could help him. A surgery that didn't have a fifty-fifty shot at straight up killing him.

“The migraines…they got worse when our parents died when he was eight. Big car wreck after a collision. The car even caught fire. No one knows how he survived. The EMTs were expecting the mangled burnt corpse of some tragic kid but instead he was pulled from the wreck with just a few bruises. I think fate , with her funny way of being a bitch, kept him going so that he'd end up here. With us and MacCready, mouthy little bastard that he is. His pain…it seems better with him, ya know?” Hancock bobbed his head in affirmation, “ Fuck I still can't believe that kid has a son…”
Would Xan be a step-dad? Would Hancock be a step-dad? Was that even a thing here? It made his brain short circuit a little to think about.

“Stranger things have happened.”

“Yeah. I was in Anchorage when it happened. When they died. I got a letter about it and for one horrifying moment I thought…I thought Luke had died too.”
Hancock held his hand and squeezed it, “They wouldn't let me go home for my parents' funeral or to set my brother up somewhere. I wanted him to go to one of my friends but it was shot down. When I was on shore leave a year later I had every intention of picking him up and bringing him home. To here.” He gestured out at Sanctuary, “But, they wouldn't tell me where he was. Told me I was too unstable to look after a nine year old boy who was dealing with so much trauma. Some shit about PTSD and triggers and shit. How does that make sense? Surely being with family would help him?”

“Sounds like bullshit red tape to me, Sunshine.” Hancock was holding his hand again and just letting him rant.

“That's how I met Nora. She was a lawyer and I hired her to help me get Luke. Sorry, Xan . He hates being called Lucas. Some fucking idiot kid that bullied him was called Lucas and it put him off his own name .”
It was just spilling out. Years and years worth of frustrations and pain. Hancock listened patiently, holding his hand and rubbing his knuckles with his thumb, “It took another year to find him and she basically blackmailed me. It was so expensive to have a lawyer on retainer. I had money but it was tied up in other things and I wanted to make sure Lucas had everything he needed. Said she'd take the case pro-bono if I married her. Her Soulmate had died young apparently, some poor fuck called Nathan or Nate or somethin', and she needed some status to be taken seriously at the firm she worked at. A decorated veteran of the army with a well known family was a big green flag apparently.”
Hancock was frowning and squeezing his hand tight. His Ghoul was possessive and that suited William just fine, “Lucas was in an orphanage for just over two years . Eight-hundred and twenty seven days, but who's counting, eh?”

He looked back out at the petrol station. Xan was asleep. Something deep inside him told him that he was safe and asleep with his ever watchful mercenary.

“The building is in Goodneighbor actually,” Hancock knew the building he spoke of, “and when I finally got the rights to have him, he was…different. Cold. Sad. This tiny neglected ten year old boy. I should've shot the woman who was caring for him. He was even quieter. His migraines worse. So fucking fragile and I'd brought him into a home with some crazy bitch who was using us for our name.”
Those first few years were so tough and the lingering ache of them made him feel angry, “I had to balance Lucas growing up in that environment and being deployed a few more times. He had to stay with Nora and every time I came back he was more and more drawn in. I got him into therapy to help deal with his anxiety and stuff but she always found a way to twist the knife in him. Made fun of his sexuality and gossiped about it with the neighbours. I got away with it because I had a wife and status but he had to sneak and steal any kind of warm contact. Branded him and Unmarked orphan faggot to everyone in the neighborhood. She made him steal from work or just generally put him down. Put us down. I threatened her with divorce countless times and I still don't know why we didn't just leave .”

Hancock sat up looking down at Will then and stroked the arch of his cheekbone, “Because you were looking after Xan. Where would he have gone when you were away with the army? Back to the orphanage? To the army like you? Your… wife may have been a bitch, but he had at least somewhere to be.”

Will shrugged, “Maybe. She was a mistake. Let her rot in that great thawing metal tomb…I wonder if she would've been like that with her name? Maybe being with someone who isn't marked on you just makes you go nuts? I might ask MacCready about it, see how he ended up with a kid.” 

A pregnant pause filled the space between them. A yawning expanse as his thoughts turned to Shaun.
Ten years old and where have been? Frozen. Getting distracted. Finding my Soulmate. Keeping Lucas safe and whole.
He jumped when Hancock nudged him to continue. To get it all off his chest and out of his brain, “I was drunk, I think? When Nora got pregnant. I can't remember actually doing it with her. It's just a fuzzy blur…I don't even like women like that…”

It was dark. Xan was out with his latest screw, smoking weed and drinking. He was waiting by the window, watching for his bicycle light and mildly fretting about every siren he heard.

He was fine. He'd be home soon. 

It started to rain and his worry up-ticked astronomically and he stood to get his boots and jacket. He'd just take a quick drive down to Concord to see if he could spot him on the road. Maybe pop in at the bar he knew he snuck into.

He's twenty this October. You're gonna have to let him grow up. 
But not yet.

He'd just slipped his feet into his boots and grabbed his car keys, the rattle of the key-ring echoing and alerting Nora to his movements. Fuck.

"Where are you going?” She was dressed in nothing but her silk bathrobe, dark beautiful skin glowing from the hot water of the shower. He hated her. 

“I'm going to find Xan.”

She rolled her eyes and went to the kitchen and began pouring two drinks with her back to him. He huffed and pulled on his jacket and patted it down to make sure he had his wallet. May as well get a drink with Xan if he bumped into him in the bar, “Lucas will be fine. Probably spreading his legs again in some skanks bed…” she'd murmured it but he'd heard.

“Yeah, well, at least he's having fun.”

“We can have fun, William.” She held out a drink to him and he took it.

“Over my dead body.” He downed the drink and finished getting ready to leave.

Then he swayed. The walls wobbled, “I can work with that.”

He blinked at the memory and pushed it back down into the dark pit where those things belonged.

“Sounds a bit like chems, Sunshine.”

“What? Like she drugged me?” Hancock shrugged, an angry scowl on his face, “Eh. Makes sense actually.” Just more shit to add to the pile of crap in his head.
“She was manipulative. When she did the paperwork for the Vault she purposely left Lucas off it. I had to threaten the guard with seeing his own guts to get him in.”

He accepted a cigarette from Hancock and laughed suddenly, “He doesn't know that I know he smokes. He's always tried to hide it from me. He'd smoke joints out his bedroom window as though the smell didn't linger on him afterwards. He's so fucking clever but sometimes he's still just a kid.”

“I thought he was a kid when we first met.” Hancock laughed along with Will, “Never thought I'd meet a grown man that was smaller than me. He weighs like fifty pounds soaking wet.” Will had never really registered how petite Hancock was. His strong personality and general air of importance made him seem bigger. Bolder. His shadow stretched before him like a great wave of getting shit done.

“God, I know, and Mac. What is it with all the twinks in my life?” He laughed as Hancock elbowed him, “Makes sense for him though. Doesn't need to be a big guy to put a bullet in someone's eye from two-hundred and fifty feet.” He hated to admit it but MacCready had skills, “Makes me wonder about Xan. I don't want him to fight but after the Gunners it's probably inevitable. We could train him? He'll never be a brawler or be able to handle a shotgun…”

“Knives and a pistol. He's so quiet he'd be able to escape most fights with just that.”

William nodded thoughtfully, “He's good at what he does. I've seen him steal a watch off someone's wrist and hand it to them whilst the guy talked to him. It was a party trick back then but here? He picks things up and people just don't notice . Can't tell you how many caps he stole for us when we first got here.”

“Oh? Hope he didn't take any from me, I'd want them back with interest.”

Will nudged him with a grin as they stood to go inside, “Not from you personally. He did take shit from Goodneighbor though. Caught him with one of your guards hats…” he took a deep tired breath, the realisation dawning on him and making him feel…warm? Okay? 
“All that to say I guess, in a way, he is my son? I raised him, fed him, clothed him. More so than my actual son.”
He jumped down from the roof, spinning on the spot and catching Hancock as the guy trust-falled backwards with arms spread wide, “ Oof, one day you're gonna do that and I won't be there to catch you.”

“Don't believe you, Sunshine.” 

Will simply held him for a moment, grinning into the black eyes that glittered like starlight, “They won't be able to stay at the Rocket if we get his kid. I'll have to get a house ready…”

His Ghoul nodded and gently kissed the corner of his mouth before squirming to be put down. Hancock led the way into the house, hips swaying, “Now, enough talking, I can think of other things for your mouth to do.”

***

Xan woke up warm and tucked into blankets and Radstag hides with his face pressed into his pillow. He felt better. Rested. His injuries easing off with each passing hour. His head didn't hurt and he snuggled down into the pillow even further. Another hour or two of sleep wouldn't hurt. The sun had barely risen yet and he was so cosy. He shifted deeper into the warm cocoon.

His brain caught up with his slowly waking body and he hummed happily.

An arm was draped over his waist, a hand splayed out on the flat plane of his bare stomach. A hard muscled chest was pressed into his back and he could smell a bonfire. An extra hour or two definitely wouldn't hurt if it meant he could stay tucked into Mac's body. 
The Merc mumbled something in his sleep, the warm air tickling the back of Xan's neck. It was so blissfully quiet.

He was just closing his eyes again, warm and comfortable and calm, when Mac's hips rolled against him. He could feel the hard length of him against his butt. Oh, fuck. He held in his moan not daring to disturb this quiet moment of peace. It had been so long since he'd felt someone against him in that way. And even then, it had felt like nothing compared to how Mac felt against him. So right and unrushed. No quick fiasco that led him down a tunnel of awkwardness and something close to guilt.

His hips pushed again and a small breathy sound came from Mac's mouth. Xan felt his eyes flutter as his stomach tensed. He was obviously having a very good dream. Should he just let him ride it out? Or, should he get up and disturb the quiet morning? A huge selfish part of him decided to stay exactly where he was even as the moral part of his brain screamed at him to move.

The hand on his stomach tensed, fingers digging into the muscle there as those hips rolled. A sleep addled voice moaned and breathed out a quiet Luke. Oh, God. His name coming from him, even in sleep, was like a damn hook. Grabbing him by the heart and winding the line ever further to shore. He didn't mind it coming from him. He'd let MacCready call him anything he wanted if it meant he got to wake up like this every day. His chest pressed harder into his back, soft scarred skin warm and heavy against his own. He could feel the patch of hair that sat in the middle of the Merc's chest rasp against his spine. 

He didn't know what to do with his hands. His own dick was straining in his pants, twitching every time Mac groaned in his sleep. He let his hand open the button of his pants to just bring a bit of relief. He held his breath as he freed himself a little. Fucking pervert . He chided himself. 

Mac shifted against him, his other arm coming underneath him and holding his chest tight and restraining him a little. All thought left his brain. He rolled his own hips, grinding down into the mattress and bit his lip to keep silent. He couldn't feign sleep now. Didn't want to. He needs Mac rolling against him, over him, inside him, restraining him.
The image of the Merc hovering over him, balanced on his elbow and dripping in sweat. Buried deep in him as he pushed his legs wide and panting his name into his ear.

“Oh, fuck… ” He couldn't help the words slipping from him as he wrapped his fingers around himself. It has been so long since he'd cum last. A sneaky wank in the bathroom after a shooting lesson didn't compare to this. The image of MacCready rolling him over into the cold snow so their heated bodies could melt it didn't come close to the reality pressing along him now. He was sweating, hair sticking to his forehead as he buried his face in the sheets in an effort to be quiet.

“Lucas,” Mac grabbed his hip and he knew he was awake. The rolling of his hips had stopped and Xan desperately stilled himself. Fuck fuck fuck. Mac pulled on his hip and rolled him onto his back and he kept his face buried in the blankets so he didn't have to look at him, “Xan?”

“Mm?” He was muffled and was trying so hard to tuck himself back into his pants without Mac's eagle eyes catching on.

The blanket was pulled off his face and he looked up at Mac. His name was on the hollow of his throat in his shitty chicken-scratch handwriting. He was flushed and sweaty from sleep and his horny dream. His dick twitched in his pants. Xan wet his lips with his tongue and Mac followed the movement with his eyes, “I didn't mean to…do that.” His voice was low and ragged and he shivered.

“I one hundred percent didn't mind in the slightest.” They'd had one hot kiss that felt like a lifetime ago and he wanted more.

He lifted himself to his elbows and tipped his head up for Mac and gently pressed his mouth to his. Electricity surged down his spine when Mac's mouth opened for him. He pushed up, dipping his tongue into Mac's mouth wrapping an arm around the back of his neck and it was like a switch went off inside him. Mac tensed up, stiff as a board, and pulled away like he'd been stung.

He was breathing heavily and there was a shadow of fear in his eyes. 

Fucking bastards.

“Robert, sorry I -”

“It's not you, Lucas.” He was wringing his hands in the sheets and squeezing his eyes shut.

“I know. It's them isn't it?”

***

It's them .

“...” He didn't know what to say. He was embarrassed. Ashamed. He felt dirty. One minute he'd been grinding against him, a dream half floating in his head of Xan sprawled out beneath him. Then he'd heard the smaller man moan out a fuck and realised it wasn't fully a dream.
Xan kissed him and wrapped an arm around him. It was gentle but some primal part of his brain had recoiled and images of that fucking shack flickered in his mind. 

“Rob…I'm not upset with you…”

Why couldn't he just be normal? Why couldn't he just kiss him without feeling like he was going to die? He was doing so much for him and he couldn't even let him wrap his arms around his neck. Like a normal person. Partner? Boyfriend? “I want to.” He didn't know how to explain it.

Xan, the clever little know-it-all, hummed and sat up fully, blankets pooling in his lap. His bare chest pale and marked with his name underlined in a scar, “Do you know what triggers it? I know what they did to you…”

Mac scoffed, “How could you know?” He didn't mean the bite in his voice.

“Well, not specifics, but I know what kind of people they were. I know what they were going to do to me .”
Barnes’ hands pushing his legs apart as Winlock cut into him. Grabbing his neck and face and making him hurt.
“I know you and Danse burnt down that little hut they had you pinned to so I assumed that's where it happened?” Mac just nodded. He felt used. A stupid little whore who couldn't fight back. Deep inside he felt impure and unworthy and… dirty , “It wasn't your fault, love. I don't want you to feel like you have to do anything you don't want to do. I'll stay by your side no matter what.”

Love.

“Do you?” He looked at Xan then. His open honest face, blue eyes and pale hair. The faint freckles he'd memorised.

“Do I what?” He took hold of one of his restless hands and twined their fingers together.

“Do you… love me.” It came out a whisper and for a moment he thought that Xan hadn't heard. His eyes had widened a little and a pink flush was spreading down his neck and over his chest.

“Yes.” He whispered back and Mac thought he was going to pass out.
Love. No one had ever said they'd loved him. Ever. No one had ever just sat with him and let him spiral and just held his hand to let him work through it. No one had ever just kissed him and expected nothing more, “So easily and completely.”

“Lucas, I don't know if I can. I want to but when you…” He paused against the feeling of shame. This man has just told him he loved him and he couldn't even explain properly.

“You feel trapped? That what triggers it?” Mac just nodded again, words failing him, and Xan hummed. He grabbed some cigs and a lighter from the table beside the bed and lit one, his face had a small frown as he thought while he smoked.
He sat like that for a while. Smoking and looking at Mac as though he were a puzzle. Eventually, cig stubbed out on the table and the smoke hazing around them, Xan nodded and took his hand again, “I understand. If you ever want to try again, I won't hold onto your neck. I won't even touch you. You'll have full control to do whatever you want with me.”

An image of fingertip bruises on narrow pale hips flashed through his mind, “Um, okay?”

“Position me. Move me. Tie me down. If it makes you feel safe, I don't care.”

Heat pooled in his belly, “I don't want to hurt you.”

“You won't hurt me, love. I've done it before.” Xan smiled at him even as a pit of jealousy opened up inside Mac. The thought of someone else doing things to Xan made him furious and he wanted to make him forget anyone else.

He surged forward and crashed his mouth against his Soulmate's. He made a little surprised noise but fell into the rhythm of his desperate kiss easily. It was rough and fast. He tasted like cigarettes. Mac noticed that Xan's hands were gripping the sheets as he fought to not touch him.

He suddenly felt very exposed. Barebacked and on his hands and knees as he hovered over Xan. His back was to the blocked door and he shivered. He pulled back, “Wait wait…” He sat on the bed, back against the headboard and arse pressed firmly into the mattress. He could see the door now, his rifle was nearby, and he felt a little better. He pulled Xan by the waist and settled him into his lap. True to his word, Xan let himself be moved and positioned with no complaints. His pupils were blown wide, his mouth open and red as Mac pressed him down to sit fully over his hips. He had a sneaking suspicion that the man was kind of into being handled like this.

Xan groaned when their mouths met again and Mac trailed his hands up his sides. One hand came to rest over his name and the scar that underlined it. 
Xan's hands were shaking as he held his own thighs and Mac grinned. He grabbed them and moved his arms behind his back, chests pressing together, and held his wrists in one hand whilst the other continued to roam over his name. He rolled his hips up and the friction against this dick had him twitching.

“ Fuck.” Xan moaned and his head fell back, baring his throat to Mac. He brought his mouth to his neck and gently bit and sucked at his pulse point. Marking him. Displaying to all that he was his. Xan ground his arse down.

“Do you like being like this, Lucas?”

“ Shit. Yes. I'd let you do anything to me.” Mac kissed his neck and Xan moaned out another fuck , “Anything, Rob. As much or as little as you're willing to give me.” Mac was suddenly very aware of every inch of his skin. His pants were too tight and a wave of heat was crashing through him like an out of control wildfire. It scorched through his veins and collected in his belly and small of his back. The brand on his neck felt white hot.

He brought his mouth back to Xan's, kissing along his jaw as he went. Xan whispered into his mouth, “You're doing so good.” 
He let go of his wrists and brought his hands to Xan's hips. He pushed them down and moaned against his neck as he felt the drag of the denim against his cock. 

As much or as little as you're willing to give me.

He wanted to give him everything. Anything he asked for. The logical part of his brain knew that Xan wouldn't make him do anything he didn't want to do. He wouldn't pin him down and make him hurt for his pleasure. 

His calloused fingers popped the button on Xan's pants and carefully pulled the zip down. He caught a glimpse of pale hair there before Xan rolled his hips reflexively. The fabric of his pants was loose around his hips now and it dipped with the little rolling motions he was making. He ran his hands over his flesh and dipped his hands into the back of his pants, squeezing Xan's bare arse. Xan cried out and his hands flew to the wall behind them to brace himself over MacCready. Mac saw tiny beads of sweat collecting at his temples and kissed them away, “Please, take them off, Robert. Please.” He was begging to be touched. To be completely exposed to him and Mac loved it. To have this control over him and him so willing to take it. Enjoying it. It was simultaneously too much and not enough. He dragged up Xan's back, nails gently scratching, and wrapped his fingers in his hair. He kissed him and swallowed his groans. He vaguely wondered how far he could push this control. How far was Xan willing to bend?

“Take your pants off. Now.” He let his voice go deep and reveled in the goosebumps that erupted on Xan's skin. The pale blonde hairs standing on end.

The blonde nodded quickly and stood up from the bed. He threw his pants off himself and stood expectantly in front of Mac. Completely bare and rock hard between his legs. A dribble of pre-cum was leaking from him. His hair was plastered to his forehead and he was breathing heavily.

Mac undid his own pants as his eyes roved over Xan's body. He pulled himself out and saw Xan lick his lips. He imagined those lips stretched over his dick and gave himself a few strokes as Xan waited. His knees were shaking and his hands twitching. 
The door was still shut and blocked and the garage rolling shutter was down and locked. He could hear the turrets chugging away. He was safe here with Xan. With Lucas.

He moved to the edge of the bed and held onto Xan's sides. He shuddered and his eyes fluttered closed when MacCready placed a kiss on his belly. He nipped at the skin a little before pulling Xan back into his lap. Their dicks pressed against each other and a whine tore itself from the back of his throat. The silky skin wet with beads of cum and he jerked against the feeling. Xan curled his hands into the sheets on either side of Mac's hips, desperate to touch but not allowed. Mac brought his hand between them and wrapped it around both of their dicks and gave a soft pull. Xan arched his back and pressed his head into Mac's shoulder with a grunt, “ Fuck. Please, Rob…”

“Please what, Lucas?”

“Oh, God, make me cum please.” His breath was hot against him. 
He stroked them together again and his vision whited out for a moment. Like something divine was happening. The noises Xan was making were loaded in sin but it felt so good.
His other hand cupped Xan's arse and he writhed against him as he jerked them both off. The muscles in his arms were tense from how hard he was gripping the bedding. He was moaning lowly into his ear with random curses and prayers spilling from him. The sweat on their chests mingled and the slide of their skin had MacCready biting his tongue to keep from swearing out loud.

He felt all his muscles tighten up as the heat in his belly threatened to snap. It felt incredible. He didn't know something like this could feel so good and right. Would it feel this good inside him? A swear slipped out as the thought filled his head. He wanted to be inside him. Needed to be, “Fuck, Luke…” He pushed the side of his face against Xan's, the rough hair of his goatee scratched against his softer skin. He felt Xan tense around him, his moans turning keening and his hips started jerking erratically.

“Tell me, Robbie. Tell me what to do.” His lips were wet against his shoulder.

He couldn't form words to tell him to do anything. He could feel the tension beginning to snap, this sudden high feeling where nothing else mattered except the skin beneath his hands. He bit down on Xan's shoulder to muffle his whine.

Xan practically screamed his name into his ear and he sagged trembling against Mac. Hot cum spurted over his hand and stomach and the noises and feel of it sent Mac over the edge.

They sat in the afterglow for a few minutes, bodies cooling and just breathing each other in.
Xan got up on shaking legs and dug around for a rag to clean them off, he was gentle and careful as he wiped up the mess from Mac's hips. Then he stoked the fire and lit two cigarettes in the flames before coming back to the bed, his naked skin glowing in the firelight.

He passed a cig to Mac and took a drag on his own as he sat cross legged beside him, pulling a blanket over his shoulders as his skin shivered, “Jesus, I don't think I've had anything that good ever.” He hummed happily and kissed Mac's shoulder gently.

Mac grinned and felt a primal sense of pride well up in him. He'd been his best and they hadn't even fucked.

“Me too.” He blew the smoke from his lungs and let a small laugh come out. It hadn't hurt. It can be good. More than good really, “So, you like being bossed around?”

Xan laughed, “I guess I do. Never done it before but I liked it.” 

MacCready could be bossy when he wanted to be.

***

After the sun had properly risen, they opened the big garage door to let the light and air into their space. The snow had turned mushy and it seemed like the air was bringing in the first touches of spring.
They didn't have any real plans today except for more recovery and rest so MacCready was surprised when he spotted Will and all his friends rounding the building whilst he and Xan sat in the open air near a fire with a magazine. 

They all wandered over to them and took spots on spare chairs and overturned logs and looked at Will expectantly.

“I thought you were just gonna send Deacon, Will.” Xan muttered, eyes on Nick, as his brother came to stand in front of him. Deacon was currently grinning at them from behind his ever present sunglasses.

“Yeah, well, we all wanted to see how you were healing.” He squatted so his eye-line was on par with Xan's and Mac watched out the corner of his eye, trying to appear nonchalant. He could see the blue mark on Xan's throat from where he'd sucked at his neck earlier on, “Any headaches?”

“Only the one you're giving me now.” Mac snorted under his breath at Xan's reply and casually flipped the page in the comic.

“Brat. Got something for you.” He dug into one of his many pockets and what he pulled out had Mac's eyes widening. 

It was a heavy black 10mm silenced pistol with a sleek scope and extended magazine. The Minuteman star that adorned all of Will and Xan's armour and weapons was painted onto the handle. 
The other thing was a knife. But it was unlike any knife Mac had ever seen. It was a shiny silver and shaped like a scalpel but bigger. The point was deadly sharp and the curve of the blade ran long and met the handle in a smooth join.

He handed them both to Xan, “Danse and Deacon made the gun for you. Hancock made the knife. What happened with the Gunners…I don't want you to be that helpless again. I've done you a disservice by not teaching you how to defend yourself properly and if Mac goes down I want you to be able to survive.”

“Mac's not gonna go down.” He said it with such a strong voice that Mac had to look back down. He could feel all the eyes on them and he desperately wanted the earth to swallow him. 
He agreed that Xan needed to learn but couldn't they have done this without so many people around? He saw Nick smirk as he sat in a chair beside Deacon and Danse. Danse stiffened slightly as the synth casually leaned forward, orange eyes on Xan.

Bet you'd fucking love it if I was out the way. Not a chance, creep.

He heard someone chuckle and flicked his eyes to the sound. Cait and Piper were whispering to each other and watching the brothers with wide grins. Hancock was rolling his eyes near them and tapping his fingers against the armrest of his chair. Whatever the women were saying, the Ghoul wasn't overly thrilled about it but didn't seem it necessary to interrupt their whispers.

Did Will's friends know that they had names? He knew Danse and Deacon knew, maybe Cait after the Interchange, but the others? Hancock and Will were quite open about their relationship but people slept with each other all the time without it meaning much.

Will and Xan were both quite attractive men. Both pale and blonde and blue eyed. Straight white teeth and clear pre-war skin. Healthy well shaped bodies. Will was huge and muscular, the tight workings of him rippled beneath his clothes that left little to the imagination. Xan had more subtle beauty to him. Small and wiry but almost ethereal. At least to MacCready's eyes anyways.

Will stood and wandered away to find a beer and a kind of semi revelry began. Will's friends lingered around the fire or wandered off to play a game or talk with one another. The radio was playing some soft quiet rock music. Mac stayed by Xan to make sure Nick didn't come too close before he got up to get him and Xan something to drink. He wandered into their living area and got caught by Will and Hancock as they lingered by the cooler.

Will grinned at him, “So, MacCready, nice little mark you left on my little brother, hmm?”

Oh my God I want to die. “Uh…we haven't…I haven't…Fu- frick.” 

Hancock laughed a little and popped the top of a beer with his teeth before handing it and the cap to him, “C’mon, Mac, you gonna tell us all the sordid spicy details?” 

“Ew, John, I don't want to know what he's done to Xan.” He paused and sipped at his own drink, “So, what have you done?”

Mac felt the heat rise in his face and, as always, couldn't control his mouth, “I don't think you actually want to know, boss.” Will's dark eyebrows quirked up but he was grinning at least. 

“You're right, I don't.” He grabbed another beer and handed it to him for Xan. He heard loud laughter and looked over his shoulder and saw Piper leaning forward in her chair that she had dragged closer to Xan's. Her fingers brushed his knee, “Careful, Mac, I think Piper might want to know what you've done to him.” 

Hancock and Will chuckled as Mac spun on his heel and made a beeline for Xan. Do I have to stop every person in the Commonwealth from trying to get to him? First it's Nick, random settlers and Minutemen, then Sturges, and now Piper? Did Hancock have to batter people away with his shotgun to stop people propositioning Will? He rolled his neck and let the feeling of jealousy wash away. It's probably nothing.

He leaned against a shadowy wall nearby the chairs and listened to see if it actually was something worth stepping in over. Maybe Piper was just a friendly touchy person? He didn't know much about her except that she ran the newspaper and had a kid sister who lived in Sanctuary with her.

“Oh, c’mon, Xander. Move up to Sanctuary. It'd be a blast.” Her coat was draped around her perfectly as she leaned forward again, “You still owe me that interview.” She had a wicked grin on her face.

Xan just shrugged at her, face bored and neutral. The mask firmly in place, “I think it was Will who promised you the interview. Plus, I really don't have anything to add to what he's already told you, Pipes.” He leaned back in his chair as she leaned ever more forward, knees almost touching.

“Sure, but what about a private interview?”

Okay, that's enough .

Mac pushed off the wall and came to stand behind Xan's chair. He saw Piper's eyes flicker up to him, “Oh hey, MacCready. How's things?”

“Just peachy, thanks.” He passed the beer to Xan who took it casually, “There you go,” He bent and kissed the side of Xan's face before meeting Piper's eyes again, “How’s Nat?” He said it so casually as his finger brushed a stray lock of blonde hair back behind Xan's ear.

Piper watched the pair of them as Xan's hand came up and held Mac's at his shoulder, “She's, uh, good. Thanks for asking.” She was blushing and wide eyed, “I didn't realise you two were…a thing.”

“Sorry we aren't as obvious as my brother and Hancock.” 

“Welp,” she said as she pat her knees and stood, “I'm gonna go…over there. Bye.” She wandered toward Cait, Danse, and Deacon who were laughing at her.

“Bye Piper. Say hey to Nat for us.” Mac laughed as Xan looked up at him with a private grin just for him.

“That was mean.”

“Oh? Next time, I'll let her have a private interview, shall I?”

Xan scrunched his nose, “Ew, no thanks.”

The day passed. Some people, Cait and Preston specifically, were drunk by the time Will motioned for them to leave. It had been a nice time overall. It was good to have a group watching their backs but he was grateful for the privacy again once they'd left.

Tomorrow morning at sunrise they'd be leaving for Med-Tek and then south-west to his farm. And to Duncan.

***

Chapter Text

They were walking toward Medford and Will was listening to Xan and Mac's idle chatter with a smile. The trouble of the Gunners behind them (though he still planned to destroy every Gunner he saw), they seemed little worse for wear. Scarred and beaten as they were, it seemed they soothed each other with the knowledge that the other was alive and distracted themselves with the mission ahead.

Part of him still couldn't believe that MacCready had a kid when the mercenary looked at his brother with that stupid goofy grin on his young face. He was grateful to him though. Not that he'd ever admit it to the guy. He'd brought Xan out of his armoured dark shell even as they reeled from emerging into this destroyed world. He laughed when he picked up some of their conversation.

“What was the last thing you ate before the world went to sh- crap?” They had their arms linked and Xan laughed and it was like sunlight.

“Fucking cereal . They could've had the decency to drop the bombs in the evening when I could've been eating a burger and milkshake. But noooo, first thing in the morning over a bowl of cereal .”

What was the last thing he'd had? Coffee and cigarette? Sounded about right. Damn, he missed not-stale coffee.

“Oh man, that's rough.”

“You know, I was actually getting ready for work. If I'd been booked to start even an hour earlier, I would've been in Med-Tek when it all happened.”

Will rolled his shoulders at the thought. Would he have been a feral? Destined to be gunned down by the mercenary that had his name?
He was suddenly very grateful that the bombs had dropped when they had. He couldn't imagine being here without Xan. Would Mac have had a different brand or would he have been born with a white scar at his throat? Like he had been hung or choked by his umbilical cord.

“Well, I'm glad you were a frozen popsicle for two hundred years instead.” The Merc kissed Xan's cheek and they both cackled. 

He felt Hancock's hand slip into his own. He squeezed it and smiled down at him and started to whistle a meaningless tune.

Today was gonna be a good day.

***

The day had started bright and hopeful and ended in a nightmare and the trial wasn't even over yet.

They got to Med-Tek just after noon. The building loomed over him and he had to stop and sit down on the cold hood of a car after they'd taken out the ferals that had been wandering around outside. His chest was hurting and he thought his head was going to split open with panic.
Visions of the subway he’d ran from with his son had flashed through his mind mid-fight and it had taken Danse to pull him away from getting swarmed. Will had Xan behind him as three ferals attacked him and he choked at the thought of the pair being ripped apart in front of him like Lucy had been.

I can't do this. I can't go inside. My son is going to die because I'm too fucking weak to get over fucking ferals. 

He couldn't get past the car park. He knew what lay beyond those great rotting metal doors. He took a great stuttering breath and Hancock tapped his back to help him. The Ghoul passed him a cigarette as they waited for him to collect himself.
“C’mon, Mac, breathe. You've got this. Little bit further.” He took another deep breath, “There you go, brother. And another.” Smoke from the cigarette filled his lungs and grounded him, “Will and Xan will get you your boy. Don't worry. Ain't no feral gonna take them down.”

He looked over at the brothers from where they stood with Danse. Both dressed in black armour with Minutemen insignia painted on and Xan's new gun was strapped to his thigh, the wicked knife hidden in his sleeve. They were pouring over Xan's notebook, pointing at the drawings of the floor plans and Xan was gesticulating with his staff badge. Will was nodding as he spoke and then jabbed the page again. Danse said something and Xan made a vague gesture to the right of the building.

Hancock was right. The four of them would go in without him if he couldn't handle it but he wanted to be there when they found the cure. Wanted to see it for himself.

The little group of three looked over at him and the Ghoul and waved them over, ready to move. Hancock helped him up and when they reached the group, Xan slipped his hand in his and gave it a tight squeeze.

“You okay, Rob?” Mac did a half shake and nod of his head, not sure on how to answer, “It's okay, we'll all be okay.”

They'd moved around the side of the building, Xan leading the way. He found an old door that was overgrown with dead vines and shrubs and Will and Danse worked to remove the plants. They ripped away from the wall easily, revealing a grey metal door with a number pad to its right.

“Okay, Xander, fingers crossed.” Will murmured as Xan approached.

Xan pulled his badge through the number pad and held his breath as he input a four digit code. 2-0-7-7. The year the bombs dropped.
Mac frowned at the obvious password, did someone change it by the year or was it just a coincidence? There was a beep and a little green light lit up on the pad. Xan sighed with relief and a grin and pulled the heavy door. It creaked and groaned and then he was barreled to the ground by a ragged feral that rushed out of the building, “Ah!”

Mac's vision blurred red as he tackled the feral off his Soulmate. The feral growled and clawed at him before a great black boot stomped on its head. Black ichor and rotted brain splattered the ground and he was pulled up by Will, “Good job, Mac.” He looked around at Xan who was already on his feet and being brushed down by Danse, old vines sticking to his back from where he'd landed beneath the feral. Blue eyes and a wide smile met him and he sagged in no small amount of relief.

Will and Danse led the way down the narrow dark hall, using themselves as a shield for their more squishy companions. They battered past ferals, using blunt objects and the butts of their guns to be as quiet as possible to avoid a horde for as long as they could. Mac was shaking and he felt a small hand rub down his spine to try and settle him. Wasn't using the staff pass meant to get them in easier? Why were there so many ferals?

The walls were too narrow. Like a tunnel. The light was dim. Like a subway. He heard a baby crying and took a deep breath. Duncan wasn't here. He was safe on the farm with Val and Steve. He'd see him soon. In little over a week maybe. He'd cure his son and bring him home with Xan and Will and Hancock and Danse. They wouldn't let him fail.
The baby cried louder, a loud piercing shrill sound bouncing off the walls and merging with the screams of his mother. He shut his eyes against it. Xan whispered to him as they stepped over yet another dead feral, “Robbie, breathe. Just a little further.”
Lucy screamed at him to take Duncan and run. He stumbled as his legs tried to sprint but Xan's hand in his coat held him firm, “Shush, sweetheart, I'm with you. We have you.”
Xan took a moment to pull him into a quiet hug whilst Will and Hancock scouted a room. He heard the shotgun go off and the cackle of the Mayor as he buried his nose in Xan's hair and breathed him in. He smelled like the melting snow outside and the grease of turrets, “There you go, love. Not long and we'll have Duncan.”

We'll have Duncan. We. The two of them and his boy. He can do this. He'll push through for the chance of that.

They moved on and exited the staff access tunnel into a more open space. A room beyond the foyer where he'd nearly died all that time ago. He pulled his rifle off his back and kept watch as Xan and Will poured over the floor-plans again, “I drew these assuming the damage wouldn't be too bad, Will. But that staircase is down and the lock-down terminal is in the director's office a few floors up.”

“Elevators?”

“Over there.”

“Okay, wait here with Mac. Danse, Hancock, let's go.”

He and Xan waited in silence crouched behind an old desk that had been pushed against a wall. He heard the thuds and almost silent cracks of a knife sinking into flesh. More ferals. They shuffled and groaned, wet slaps of bare rotting feet and the clack of sharp tearing teeth. Mac kept his rifle ready. Teeth clacking and nails scraping. Crawling dead things that screamed and consumed. Xan held his waist and whispered soothing noises at him.

They waited for what felt like an eternity before a low whistle sounded and Xan stood, “Elevators are busted, Xan.”

Xan nodded and looked around, chewing his lip. He checked the floor plans and started tapping the page with a finger as he thought. His clever little brain ticking over, “There's an access stairwell that'll take us up, assuming it's not collapsed. It was staff only so I expect more ferals if any of my colleagues tried to escape down it. I was hoping we could avoid as many as we could…”

My colleagues .

Mac hadn't really registered that Xan would've known some of these people. He didn't know how he could just step over their bodies and remain so calm. Stoic face shadowed with the mask of contempt. They followed Will and Mac nudged his shoulder with a whisper, “You okay, Lucas?”

His blue eyes looked up at him and he saw a flicker of sadness there before it cleared and he nodded, “Yeah. Just wanna get this done for you.” He held his hand as they walked.

They found the stairwell and slowly moved up. Skeletons of Xan's colleagues and maybe friends littered their path. He would've been one if he'd come to work early. Mac shivered.
It was dark and the sickly green glow of Will's PipBoy made everything dance in an ominous shadow. They went up as far as they could before the stairwell was too damaged for them to continue.
A door on the landing was locked with another keypad and Xan approached it. He scanned his pass and put in another code. The door hissed and he pulled it, peeking around the gap before nodding at Will. The big man pushed through, followed closely by Hancock and Danse. Danse mumbled, “This place is getting creepier and creepier.”

“You should've seen it when it was up and running.” Xan smiled wanly, “It was brilliant. So high tech and light. We were working on cures and treatments for all kinds of things.”

Will chuckled, “Oh yeah, don't forget the bio-weapons, kid.”

“Hmm, I didn't work on those so I just pretended they weren't real…” he said with a wistful sigh.

They moved through the space. Ferals in old tattered lab-coats were everywhere, staff passes flashing around their necks as they attacked. Mac raised his gun and put one down with a clean hole through the center of its head. Then another and another. The new silencer on his rifle kept the racket of the gun as quiet as it could.

Xan stayed by the door with a small frown on his stoic face. These were people he'd known .

They were slowly getting exhausted. The ferals just didn't stop. How many people had been in this place when the bombs had dropped? They were covered in old thick blood, bruised and cut. Will had a split lip and a nasty gash to his arm but they pushed forward. 

They moved up another floor and finally Xan said, “Here's the terminal.” They were in a little office space. It might have been opulent two hundred years ago but dust and time and ferals had mostly destroyed the space.

Will sighed as he sat on the floor removing his chest and arm armour, “Xan…need you here, buddy.” He had removed his shirt and the wide expanse of his chest was bruised and battered. A deep laceration to his bicep was flowing with blood that had Hancock shaking his head as he removed his coat and armour too. 

They sat together, the four of them, as Xan fluttered over them. He worked on Will first. He doused the arm wound with alcohol before pulling out his needle and thread to stitch the ragged edges of the gash together. His hands moved over his brother's ribs and back, checking for broken bones. Finding none, he moved to his face and MacCready was struck with how alike they looked. So close together their eyes were identical. The shapes of their noses are the same. The bow of their lips. The blonde hair that stuck to their foreheads with sweat and grime. Will had a squarer jaw and wider forehead where Xan was a bit more pointed. 
Xan brushed the blood from his brother's lip to check to split before nodding and administering two Stimpaks to the curve of his neck.

He moved to Danse next but thankfully the man had only a few bruises and scrapes thanks to his armour. He said he didn't have any major pains in his ribs or arms so Xan gave him a Stimpak and a gentle pat to the side of his face.
Hancock needed a stitch to his neck where a feral’s claw had caught him and the Ghoul winced at the feeling of the thread being pulled tight.
Xan moved to him then and his gentle hands moved up his sides and so lightly over the back of his neck, watching his face for any pain or panic. He didn't have any apart from a big bruise to his stomach where the ferals had swarmed them outside of Med-Tek.

Once his job was done, Xan said, “We should wait until we've eaten and rested to release the lock-down. More people will have been working beyond the airlock doors and opening them will release them into the corridors.”

“Okay. No complaints here.” Will pulled out water and food for them to eat and Xan sat at the terminal with an almost sad face, “You okay?” Will asked quietly.

“Hmm. Just weird. I had my interview here.” He was tapping the desk absently with his finger, “I wonder if the director made it out?”

Danse leaned a little forward to catch Xan's eye, “I'm sorry about your friends and colleagues, Xander”

Xan shook his head, "Don't be sorry. It's kill or be killed and they've been dead a long time." Mac could hear the slight hitch in his voice. So slight before it was covered with his mask of boredom.

"Maybe some escaped. Maybe not. Would it have made a difference?" Will spoke in a direct firm voice to his brother before he could slip into the darkness.

“No, I guess not.” He started rifling through papers in the drawers of the desk.

MacCready couldn't imagine how it must have felt for them both to emerge into this time. Everyone they had known was either dead or a feral. They'd had to learn to navigate this new world after two hundred years of unconsciousness. They'd woken up, suddenly Marked, and were thrown into a life that everyone else had had their whole lives to learn how to deal with. They'd been expected to just...get on with it. How did they not crack? MacCready thought, that if it were him, he'd have curled up on that first day and just broke down.

How had that first day been for them? Finding their destroyed neighborhood, destroyed house, destroyed people. Had they cried and screamed? Had they looked at the names on their skin and shouted into the void? Looking at them both now; he couldn't imagine Will, soldier and General, doing anything other than fighting tooth and nail. And Xan? Stoic and quiet unless they were alone together probably would have challenged everything with glaring eyes and utter contempt. He'd told Winlock to eat shit to his face . A little nuclear war paled against that.

He shook the thoughts away and sipped at some water. 

Will checked the time on the PipBoy and it was just after six pm, “Looks like we'll have to stay the night once we've got the cure for Duncan. Goodneighbor by tomorrow evening to restock then we'll move south. How's that sound, Mac?”

“Sure thing, boss. Whatever you say.”

“Hey man, this is your quest. We'll follow your lead.”

Mac thought about that. They were doing this for him . For his son. He'd never be able to repay this debt. He thought about giving back the caps they'd given him but he'd been paid upwards of fifteen hundred now and that had all been sent to Duncan, plus a new rifle. He sighed. He'd be in their debt forever.

“Ready to move on?” Will asked the group and there were various nods and shrugs in reply. 

“Mac, I need the lock-down code.” Xan held his hand out expectantly and Mac dug through the pockets of his duster for that slip of old paper that he'd carried with him everywhere since Sinclair had handed it to him months and months ago.
He handed it over and Xan smiled at him, “Here we go, fellas.” He typed into the terminal and a loud siren went off. It echoed around the building and became a backdrop as the hairs rose on the back of his neck.

“Let's go.” Will said and they followed him back out toward the staircases. 

They moved down silently, Will and Xan almost completely blending into the shadows. They could hear the growling and shuffling of many feet in the floors below, the ferals moving beyond their locked doors that had kept them trapped for two hundred years.
Xan paused before they emerged from the stairs and whispered to his brother, “Once we're beyond the big doors, we move down. There's a testing floor there with glass rooms with people who were being used to test treatments.”

“How many?” Will checked the ammo in his gun.

“I can't be sure. A lot. The doors won't have opened with the lock-down but I'm just warning you because it'll look…awful.”

“How'd you mean?” Hancock asked. They'd all seen awful shit. Done awful shit. It couldn't be that bad.

“The people, the volunteers, they'll have been infected by whatever disease they'd signed up for. If they're feral they might look strange. Mutated”

Danse rattled and creaked in his armour as he ran a hand down his face, “Did you infect them?”

Xan shook his head, “I was just an assistant researcher. I didn't actively work with the people, just the cures and viruses.”

“Did you work on Prevent?” Will was peeking around the door and counting ferals on his hands to show them how many. Nine. Ten. Fourteen.

“...yes.” Xan looked up at Mac who felt like his gut had been punched. Fate really was a sneaky bitch. To have the man who would become his actively work on the cure for his son centuries ago made his brain want to shut down for a bit. It was unfathomable. Incredible, “I know where it is. The room. Which cupboard it'll be in if…” If it wasn't destroyed.

They moved. The need for stealth evaporated as Will, Hancock and Danse decided upon a full assault. Mac stayed by the door with Xan, picking off ferals where he could. They were crawling and climbing through the open doors. So many of them rushing toward the noise and fresh meat. Will, singing some mindless anthem, and Danse remained a solid wall between the dead things and Xan. Hancock flew into the fight and where he couldn't use his shotgun, his knife would sink into rotted skulls and sever mangled necks. Mac saw Xan take his pistol out of its holster and carefully aim, he was slow but speed would come with time. He took a shot and Mac grinned as he saw a feral stumble as its kneecap collapsed, “Good shot, Luke.” Xan smiled back at him and aimed again.

They stepped over the corpses and Xan handed out stims for Hancock to heal more bruises and gashes. Hancock didn't seem to mind the injuries as he popped some Mentats into his mouth and checked over his supply of chems. Psycho, Jet, Buffout, Daytripper, Med-X.

He heard the crank of a laser rifle charging up and the loading of a .44 as Will and Danse took point again. They passed through the airlock to be met with more locked doors. Xan approached the terminal nearby and input some codes to release the doors. More ferals were in the room beyond but thankfully went down quickly.

“There's an elevator that'll take us down if it's working.”

“Did you have to come through here every morning, Xan?” Hancock asked. All these locked doors and checkpoints were obviously designed to stop secrets getting out and unwanted persons getting in.

“Yeah. The guards would check our bags and pockets in and out to make sure we weren't doing anything that could hurt Med-Tek.”

Will hummed, “I never asked how you got all that information out for Nora.”

Hancock's brow rose at the mention of the woman. Mac didn't know much about her, Xan didn't like talking about her but he knew enough to know that Will and Xan hated her, “I’m very good at stealing, Will.” He said it with pride even with the frown on his face, “I’d hide the papers in my trainers, socks, underwear. Holotapes tucked into my armpits and in secret sewn pockets in my shirts…They never stripped us, just checked pockets and bags and once they knew you well enough, they got lazy.”
The elevator was thankfully on and they climbed inside, Will groaning in the confined space, “Basement level two, Danse.” Danse nodded and pushed the button. The elevator shuddered to life with a clang and began making its slow way down.

“Sunshine, have you been to any places that you knew from before?”

Will nodded, voice tight as he watched the elevator doors, “Loads. We both have been. The Museum of Freedom, Hagen, Diamond City. Hell, even the streets. We lived here all our lives.”

“Goodneighbor.” Xan murmured.

“Yeah…Goodneighbor too.” Will pat Xan's back, “Goodneighbor is an improvement though, yeah?”

“Definitely.” Mac made a mental note to ask about that later. If they made it out of this place alive. The elevator made a massive jerking motion and then stopped, doors sliding open, “Remember, the ferals here, if there are any, might be…different.”

They took the path that led south after finding a blocked corridor and Mac felt sick when they emerged into an open atrium. The walls were lined with glass cells that were occupied by a feral or long dead body in each one. There must've been at least fifty. He swallowed and asked, “Should we take them out?” 

Will shrugged as they followed Xan through the room. Xan kept his eyes forward and refused to look into the cells but Mac couldn't help himself. 

The ferals did look a little different. Some were swollen and moved as though their joints didn't work. Some were so thin and rotted they looked more like skeletons than fleshed out beings. Some still had infusion lines and oxygen masks strapped to them.
One had blue and black boils all over its skin and Mac had to pause. The sores looked so familiar to Duncan's but they were leaking an almost luminous yellow fluid. 

“We might have to take a few out…the door is broken and we need to find a way down again.”

Will nodded and began looking through the room with Hancock. Danse stayed by Xan, ready to protect if needed. The Paladin grumbled and looked down at him, “So…these people. They volunteered?”

“That's what I was told.” Xan frowned as they waited for Will to finish checking every door and peering through every window, Hancock had climbed to the floor above and was doing the same there, “Makes me wonder if that was the truth though, seeing them like this.”

“Why was the building in lock-down anyway?” Danse asked.

“I looked through the terminal in the director's office. He got advance warning about the bombs and sent the building into lock-down to prevent the pathogens from getting out. There's some real nasty diseases in this place that's why I don't want to take all these ferals out. The risk of one of us getting infected by something I can't fix is too high.”

“Don't they have cures in here though?” Mac said.

“There's cures for all kinds of maladies in here. But not everything. We never got to finish some of them…” Xan looked up at him then with a sad smile, “Prevent was the last thing I worked on and the testing of it went well. Duncan has a chance if we get it.”

Will and Hancock came back to them, “There's a few cells at the back with holes in the ground, looks like they go all the way through to the floor below. Think you can just open those doors?” He pointed and Mac shivered. One of the doors contained the feral with the blue boils and pus.

“Let me check.” He moved to the terminal and looked through it. He nodded, “They’re on a relay. Ten doors per loop. Take the ferals out at range and don't let them touch you or get any fluid on you.”

“Gotcha.”

Ten doors opened and the ferals emerged. Will, Danse and Hancock formed a wall and started shooting. Mac looked around them with his rifle and aimed at the one with the boils. A flash of Duncan flickered behind his eyelids and he had to force himself to pull the trigger. A clean hole directly between its eyes.

A feral got dangerously close and Xan shouted Will's name as he battered it away with the butt of his gun. Blood splattered and Xan quickly started digging through their bags. He pulled water and alcohol out and as Will approached he doused the fluids over him. He completely drenched him from head to toe and flushed the ferals viscous stinking blood off the man's skin and out of his hair, “Fucks sake, Will!” He rinsed out his mouth with whiskey and Xan forced the alcohol up the man's nose and into his ears, “Why didn't you fucking move away from it! I said kill them at range!”

“I'm fine , Lucas.” He was running his hand through his hair and forcing air through his nose to get the burning alcohol out of his sinuses, “What are the chances of me catching something from it? Really?”

“Really fucking high, Will! Jesus fucking Christ.” He flapped as they followed the big man to the open cell with the broken floor, “You idiot.”

Will just chuckled and jumped down the hole. Xan jumped down after him, still swearing as Will caught him. Danse went next followed by Mac. Then Hancock fell down backwards with his arms over his chest with a laugh. Will was quick to catch him with a muffled, “Fucking hell, John. Stop that.”

“Never.” Hancock grinned.

Xan was still grumbling as they made their way down a corridor. Something about antibiotics and the flushing of a system and stupid idiot brothers.

They found a generator that Danse took the power core from and more stairs that led to more corridors. Mac didn't think he'd like to work in a place like this. It felt like a rat warren and was so deep underground without the comforting rocky ceiling. Like a tomb.

“Okay, the labs are through here.” They entered a dark space that had a room with more glass windows and a locked door. Xan approached the windows and peeked in, quickly joined by Will.

The room was quiet and dim. A table was in the center and the walls were lined with desks, cupboards and all manner of machinery. Microscopes, centrifuges and test tube racks sat as though nothing had touched them since the bombs dropped. Blinking lights let them know that the room still had some kind of power source. Nothing was moving so Will nodded at Xan to open the door.

Xan approached the keypad and groaned, “It's busted.”

Hancock hummed, “Could break the window?”

“Not even a missile will break those windows. Massively reinforced and a foot thick.” He replied with a shake of his head, “I can see the storage fridge where Prevent is…there's antibiotics in there too. Stimpaks. Med-X. So much we could use.”

Mac felt a bout of hopelessness ripple through him. All this and they couldn't even get into the room. The cure for his son was so close but tauntingly out of reach.

Will was looking at the ceiling, a finger tapping the scar on his chin. His eyes were flickering over the paneling and making a path with a pointed finger to the sealed off room, “How about getting in from the top. The walls will be jutting past the paneling but someone small could squeeze through? Open the door from the other side?”

Xan grinned at his brother and nodded, “Easy.”

Danse, taller in his armour, punched through some of the wood above them and created a hole big enough for Xan to fit through. Will lifted his brother up and he deftly climbed up. Mac wanted to follow. Xan smiled down at them through the hole before disappearing.

That's where the worst few minutes of MacCready's life so far had started. Worse than Lucy dying. Worse than the Gunners. 

They watched through the windows. A few minutes passed before they saw a bit of the roof paneling begin to bow. It heaved back up before a heavy black booted foot bust through it. The foot disappeared for a moment before kicking through again. The paneling clattered and snapped, creating a good sized gap. Xan's upside down face appeared, hair fanning out in spikes. He looked serious as he looked around the room before his eyes zeroed in on the cabinet that should hold the cures.

His hands gripped the edge of the hole and he flipped into the room, dropping a few feet to an old autopsy table. He staggered a little on light feet before hopping down with a little giddy twirl and moving directly to the cabinet.

“The door, Xan. Focus.” Will whispered. He wouldn't be able to hear them anyway through the glass.

Xan, easily distracted with loot as he was prone to be, had his hands up around his eyes as he pressed his face against the little windows in the cabinet. One fist pumped in victory and Mac's heart fluttered. 

Then they saw them and that flutter in his chest turned to panic. A great gnawing aching panic that took his breath from his lungs.

Crawling out from beneath desks and from behind cupboards were three ferals. One was huge and its blood glowed beneath its thin skin, dangerously radioactive. They began to stalk the small distracted man and Mac helplessly started hitting the glass of the window with a silent scream.

“Xan! The door! Lucas!” Will started slapping the glass too. Xan couldn't hear them as he moved to open the cabinet with his staff card. The ferals stalked closer. Sharp claws and tearing teeth.

“Luke!” Mac screamed and brought the butt of his rifle against the glass in a vain attempt to shatter it. Danse booted the door and the racket got Xan's attention.

He turned and his eyes widened with fear. He quickly shut the cabinet again and darted away from the closest feral that had managed to sneak up behind him. He hopped back onto the autopsy table and tried to jump up to grab the edges of the hole in the roof. He was too short.

“The door, Luke!” Mac was desperately trying to get through the glass but it didn't even seem like it wanted to crack.

Xan had run to the far end of the room and climbed up onto a desk to try and get away from the glowing feral that had grabbed for him. He balanced his arms against the wall and kicked a foot at the thing's face but it kept coming.

“Sunshine!” Hancock was pointing at the ceiling and Will quickly grabbed his Ghoul and bodily launched him up to the hole. Hancock disappeared inside with a wriggle and a grunt, almost too big to fit through.

Xan skittered over desks and chairs. They clattered beneath his panicked footfalls and he almost stumbled before catching his balance again on the solid ground. Eyes wide as he saw them through the glass, he shouted or screamed but Mac couldn't hear him. Mac punched the window as he saw a feral lurch for his partner, “Lucas!” 

His hidden blade was out at his side and he swung his arm wildly in a wide arch to catch a feral in the face. Thick ichor spurted but the rotten thing didn't fall. Xan pushed past it and sprinted for the door where Danse was still kicking it.

His hands were shaking as he pulled his pass through the keypad and Mac screamed again when a feral grabbed him and pulled him to the ground, “Lucas! Fuck!” It was happening again. He was going to die, his name would turn cold and white on his neck, he'd never hear him laugh again. Never read over his shoulder. Never hold his hand. Never hear his name said like a prayer in his ear. He couldn't do anything. He punched at the glass again and felt something crack in his knuckles.

A flash of red and Hancock dropped into the room. His face and armour were scratched up from where he'd forced himself through whatever small gap Xan had managed to get through. His coat whirled as he spun with his hand to his mouth as he inhaled a canister of Jet. His hand flipped and he jabbed a syringe into his thigh in the same motion as he pulled out his shotgun and blasted the head of the feral that had Xan pinned. Hancock’s face was livid and his mouth was open in a scream. Psycho.

Hancock couldn't help Xan up yet though because then the glowing one was on him, splattering his ravaged face with irradiated bile. Hancock headbutted the feral and shoved it back with a crack of the butt of his gun.

Will was pacing along the window like a caged animal. He was furious and those cold eyes were flickering between Hancock's Psycho fueled fight and his brother beneath the dead leaking zombie. Mac couldn't take his eyes off Xan. He was trapped. Un-moving. Again . The feral was Winlock. Blood spurting and pooling and sinking into his knees as he knelt over him in that shack.

The shotgun went off again and the glowing one stumbled back. The third feral grabbed Hancock’s coat and a dagger flashed, severing its neck and letting thick blood spill. He cocked his shotgun, the spent shells clattering to the ground. He quickly reloaded it and shot the head of the glowing feral at point-blank range. Its head exploded but Hancock didn't pause to enjoy it. Didn't have a moment soak in the radiation.

He ran to Xan and dragged the dead feral off him and pulled the small man to his chest. MacCready tried desperately to push the door but the code still hadn't been entered. 

Xan was covered in the black ichor of the feral and Hancock tapped his face. There was an agonizing moment where MacCready and William held their breaths. Time was slow and thick. His vision pinpointed on Hancock and Xan. It had happened again. He'd lost his person to ferals whilst he was helpless to stop it. He thought he was going to die. A great pain started building in his chest.

Hancock slapped Xan across the face with a hard crack and Xan's eyes snapped open. Hancock said something to him and Xan nodded with a shaky smile, hand rubbing his cheek where it bloomed red. He was pulled to his feet and Mac felt Will hold onto his arm. The big man had shut his eyes and swayed forward. Mac held onto him for a moment for support.

The door hissed and clicked open and they rushed in. Will reached the pair first and scooped them both up into a punishing hug, “The fucking door , Alexander! The fucking door!” Xan winced but grinned against his brother's shoulder.

Mac pulled him away from the hug and brought him to his own chest, “Fuck, Luke, I thought you were gonna die!”

Xan relaxed against him and wiped the ichor from his face with a grimace, “You did a swear.”

MacCready impossibly laughed, “Pretty sure Duncan will forgive me for that one. Are you hurt?” He held him at arm's length and looked him over.

“No, don't think so. Just a lump the size of an egg on the back of my head. Dazed me a little.”

Danse came up behind Xan who winced as his metal clad fingers parted his hair, “That's going to need stimming.” He said and dug into one of their bags. He carefully brought the Stimpak to the back of Xan's head and the hiss it made had Mac feeling better.

“Xan, let's get this done and get out of this room.” Will called.

Xan grinned up at Mac, “The cabinet is intact, Rob.”

He led the way to the cabinet and started to unlock it again. A light went green somewhere behind the glass and Mac felt himself shake.The door opened and Xan reached inside.
There, in his small hand, was a red vial loaded into a delicate syringe. The cap was still on and the glass was clean and whole. He held it up to MacCready who took it in shaking bloodied fingers. It was so fragile. It was going to break. He was going to drop it.

Will held out some thick cloth and wrapped the vial and syringe carefully before opening one of Mac's satchels at his hip and slotting the wrapped cure for his boy inside.

“Thank you…” He breathed out. He doesn't think anyone heard him as they quickly started looting all the medical supplies in the room. Xan was digging through the cabinet, holding medicines up in the dim light and reading the labels, before packing them away carefully. Will and Danse were pulling microscopes apart and putting the components into bags. Scalpels, clean syringes, infusion lines. All were packed away. Mac just stood in the middle of the flurry of activity, hand over his satchel as though it would be ripped away from him at any moment.

“Holy shit , look at this.” Hancock laughed from where he'd been rummaging through papers.

They huddled around to see what he'd found. Familiar chicken scratch handwriting was on paperwork detailing the effects of Prevent. His name was signed as assistant researcher. And then, there was a faded photograph.
An older man with a salt and pepper beard had his hand on Xan's shoulder. They were both grinning happily as they looked out at them. In Xan's hand, held aloft for the camera to see, was the red vial of Prevent.

Xan took the photo and grinned down at it, “Professor Teeg. He did most of the work on Prevent. The sequencing and isolation of the virus and stuff. He was a good man. Taught me a lot.” 

Will placed his hand on Xan's back as they began to leave the room, Xan tucking the old photo into his armour, “Let's camp on the road tonight. I hate this place.”

***

They'd cleared the sheltered semi underground car-park of Med-Tek out of ferals and now sat around a fire as Hancock regaled them with the tale of his childhood in Diamond City. A story of a shitty big brother who William wanted to stab in the eye, of going to Sunday school, of a time before the shitty place threw the ghouls out to die.

Danse was dumbfounded, “So…you haven't always been…” he gestured vaguely at all of Hancock and Will smirked.

“Nah, brother, I'm new blood. Took a drug about six or seven years ago that gave me the best high of my life and I woke up days later in all my current glory.” He emphasized by popping a handful of Mentats into his mouth like jelly-beans. Guy was always semi-high. Head in the clouds. Cocky. Confident. With just a touch of self-esteem issues. His relic of a red coat was too big for his wiry sleek frame but his sense of self importance and grandeur filled it for him. He was perfect and Will loved him. He hadn't said the words yet but skirted the subject often during pillow talk. 

Wouldn't change you for the world, sweetheart.
Could wake up to you like this every day.
You're beautiful.

Hancock usually just grinned and bat his hands away. Some smirking smart-mouthed reply on his ravaged lips.

Danse said something that Will missed as his mind ticked over but he caught Mac's reply, “He's just a person, Danse. Not like you Brotherhood Meatheads ever got that memo.”

Will chuckled. Poor Danse had been having his whole world view challenged the more time he spent with them. From seeing Xan work tech, the ghoul residents of Sanctuary and places like it, and now Hancock. The threads of the brainwashing of the Brotherhood was slowly being picked at. Fraying at the edges and opening his mind. Synths were still a sore subject for the guy and Will kind of agreed with him on some of the views there. He wouldn't tell Deacon that though but he was hopeful that his friend would eventually see that not all synths were savable. 

He looked at Hancock again. Eyes rarely wandering away from his Ghoul during quiet moments like this. He was gorgeous in the fire light. The flickering light casting deep shadows on the scars of his skin. Black eyes glittering as he watched Mac and Danse discuss the differences between feral ghouls and “normal” ghouls. His Soulmate had saved his brother's life. Crawled through a hole in the ceiling, scratching and injuring himself, and risked his neck as though it was the obvious thing to do. He'd never be able to repay him but he knew that Hancock wouldn't ask him to anyway. Either way, he'd spend the rest of his life trying to.

He sipped his water and took a bite of the razorgrain bread with mutfruit spread on it. His mouth still tasted bitter from when Xan had force fed him antibiotics and some other stuff to fight off any possible virus he might have gotten from the infected feral. He knew that for the next few days his brother would be watching him like a hawk for symptoms . Let ‘em come . He thought but pushed it away. That kind of thinking wasn't helpful. He stood and stated he'd take the first watch.

He double checked on Xan. He was leaning against MacCready's chest with his nose in a thick tome-like book. He'd asked him not to bring any because they just added unnecessary weight to their bags, but he still snuck one anyway. His brain never switched off. Stubborn kid. He didn't even look up as he passed, so engrossed in the words on the page he was in another world. Mac's arm was over his chest and holding on tight with a bandaged hand from where he'd fractured his knuckle trying to break the reinforced glass of Xan's lab. The mercenary's other hand kept checking on the satchel that held his kids' cure.

Tomorrow, they'd begin the journey south. 

He didn't like the thought of leaving the Commonwealth for even a short amount of time when he had so much still to do. But this was important to Xan. To MacCready. A little boy's life was on the line and he wouldn't be the reason some poor little thing died because he couldn't tear himself away from settlements for two weeks. Preston could handle it and the Courser signal still hadn't pinged.

He'd taken Deacon’s words to heart the other day. Give Xan a little slack or he'd start hating him. He was grown now. Loathe as he was to admit it. He might tighten that slack a little after the stress he'd put him and MacCready through in his lab though. That had been too close. Again, he'd be thanking Hancock for the rest of his life.

He's my son.

The words rattled around in his brain. His talk with Hancock on their roof echoed around him. He sat on a chair near the entrance of the car park, the fire light barely reaching him.

He pretty much is my son. I raised him. Clothed him. Fed him. Kept him safe.

He'd missed so much time with Shaun. The boy was at least ten now. Maybe older. He'd missed all the bits that were important for a father that he hadn't missed with Lucas. His first steps? Gone. But he'd been there for Lucas’. His first solid food? He'd helped Lucas eat his first spoonful of porridge. Their mother had taken a photograph. He'd taught Lucas how to ride a bike whilst their dad was deployed. Climbed trees and buildings with him and helped him with his homework. Helped him in his first fight.

Saved him from the orphanage.

He is my son.

He felt the warm gnarled hand of Hancock on the back of his neck, “Cap for your thoughts, Sunshine?”

“Hmm? Nothing important.”

“Like I believe that.” Hancock sat on the ground in front of him with his hands on his thighs. Not in a seductive way. Just in a “I'm here” kind of way.

“Just thinking about Shaun. He doesn't even know who I am. What if I find him and I see that he's healthy and happy? Would it be cruel for me to take him away from the people who've raised him? What if he calls them mum and dad? I'm just a stranger.”

“Hmm, I think maybe you should cross that bridge when you get to it, Will. No use pondering the what ifs right now.” Hancock leaned against him, head resting on his thigh, “Whatever choice you make, we'll be here with you. I'll be here with you. Gotta kill a Courser bastard first anyways.”

Will groaned, “God, don't remind me. I was gonna take Xan and Mac with us for that but if they have his kid it might be kinder to leave them in Sanctuary?”

“Eh. Give ‘em the choice. Mac will be handy in the fight. He'll probably be able to kill the Courser from some random roof before it knows we're there.” It was a nice thought but they both doubted it. Coursers had a terrifying reputation for a reason.

“Maybe. One thing at a time though. Duncan first. Then the rest.”

They sat in a comfortable silence together as they watched the night around them. He let his fingers draw light patterns on the sensitive skin on the back of Hancock's neck, “Keep doing that, Sunshine, and I'll have to take my pants off.”

“Oh no, that'd be a shame.”

The night wore on and eventually they got up to wake Danse for his watch. 
They passed by Mac and Xan where they'd curled up together and Will paused to look down at them. Xan was curled into Mac's chest, blonde head tucked beneath the Merc's scruffy chin.

“You know, Sunshine.” Hancock whispered beside him, “And I hope this doesn't sound too…shitty. But even if things don't work out with Shaun, you've still got a damn fine kid right there.”

The thought squeezed at Will's heart but he also felt a sense of calm. Hancock’s words curing some kind of deep malady inside his soul.

***

Chapter Text

Mac was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as he spoke to Daisy in her shop. The ghoul woman was so pleased for him and they'd been chatting for ages as they waited for Will and Hancock to come back from whatever they were doing. Something about mayoral duties and privacy . Ew.

“I can get that to Duncan by the end of the week, RJ. Got a guy who owes me favours and he's reliable.” She held her hand out expectantly but Mac shook his head with a smile.

“Thanks, Daisy, but I'm taking it myself. Then we're bringing him home.”

Daisy's eyes flicked to Xan and raised her not there eyebrows, “Oh? And where's home for you now if not your farm? Gotta know where to send my letters…”

“Up north. Sanctuary.” 

They'd discussed it on the road. As much as Xan preferred the Red Rocket, it'd be better for Duncan if they stayed in Sanctuary. It was safer. Walled off, and there were kids there for him to socialise with. He'd be able to handle it with Mac. The memories. The noise. The migraines.

“The Minuteman settlement? So that's where you and Hancock disappeared off to.” She looked a bit surprised at first before recovering and smiling at Mac, “I'm happy for you, RJ. Glad you have people watching your back.”
Mac flushed and nodded, ducking his chin against his scarf. She whispered to him but Xan could hear anyway, she wasn't a very quiet lady, “This fella? He treatin’ you right? Paying you properly? That aint…ya’know..?”

“Jeez, yes . It's not like that.” He choked back at her and Xan grinned behind his hand.

“Uh huh. Well, you're always welcome back here with Duncan if you'd rather -”

“No! No. Daisy. Thank you, I'm good in Sanctuary.” Daisy pat his hand. She was like a worried mother hen and it made Xan happy that Mac had had someone before he'd found him. Mac whispered again, “Xan…he's…” his hand touched his scarf and Daisy's eyes widened.

“Oh. Oh! Well colour me astounded.” She nudged him, “Thought you'd given up on that with how you spoke about it.”

“I was drunk , Daisy. And it was one time.” His gunmetal eyes looked up at him with a little glint of guilt but Xan shrugged it off. He understood. Mac had gone through twenty-some years of loneliness and pain to get where he was now. Xan puffed his chest a little. I'd stopped that .

Xan wandered away to next door to let Mac talk with his friend in relative privacy. They weren't leaving until the morning, they'd go when Will and Hancock got whatever out of their system, so it didn't hurt for them to reconnect. He entered Kleo’s shop and came to silently stand by Danse. The man was uncomfortably haggling with the robot as he tried to pawn off some loot that Will had given him for trade.

By his elbow, on a little table, was a display of .308 bullets. Xan felt the itch in his fingers and casually looked around. The robot was focused on Danse and the guards of Goodneighbor were totally ignoring him. Good.
He silently rested his hand on the table, just looking like he was using it for support if anyone saw him. Danse slapped an old pistol and automatic rifle down in front of the robot and Xan's hand dexterously pulled a box of ammo behind his back where he quickly tucked it beneath his armour. He held his breath for a second but nothing happened. No sudden bright red light of an Assaultron turning its dangerous gaze to him. No shouts of stop, thief! He smiled to himself and left the shop.

He wandered the streets. Grateful for a few minutes alone. He loved Mac and his presence but sometimes you just needed to have a cigarette by yourself. He looked around to make sure he couldn't see Will and lit one. 

The streets were raucous with drunks and chem-chasers. Hancock had a loose leash on this place that he could tighten in an instant. But he didn't want to become the man . So people came to Goodneighbor to be free. Of the people. For the people. That had made Will laugh when Hancock had first said it to them. It felt like a lifetime ago.
He passed under neon lights. The greens and reds and blues staining his hair. No one bothered him. They'd seen him walk in with the Mayor and the General after all, and he basked in anonymity. No one called him sir or Captain. No one called him Xander. Or Xan. Or Lucas. He could wander in silence and smoke.

His feet led him to the building without him meaning them too and he looked up at its dilapidated state. The windows in all four red-bricked stories were broken and they gaped at him like hungry eyes and mouths. It seemed abandoned. Like the aura it gave off kept the residents of Goodneighbor away. As though it were haunted. The ghosts of the past wailing and crying. The battered sign on the gate was torn and rotten but Xander knew what it read: Matron Oleander's Home For War Orphaned Boys.

Oleander: A toxic flower. And that is what the matron had been. Beautiful to the people who didn't know her, who just saw the charity she performed. Taking in boys whose parents had died in the war. It should've been something good, something wholesome and warm. But, she had been as toxic as her namesake: causing nausea and pain and slow death.

He pushed the gate open and stepped into the grounds. His feet led him up the time-worn steps without him telling them to, it was muscle memory. He'd been on these steps a thousand times before for two years. Before his life had even really started. Before his brother had saved him. Before it had shut down shortly after his departure after Will forced Nora to sue the place.

The heavy rotted door creaked open at his touch and it sent a deep shiver down his back. He put one foot in and felt a gentle hand grip his elbow.

“Lucas, jeez, I was looking everywhere for you.” Mac had followed him because of course he had. He smiled and took the merc's hand before stepping further into the building, “What is this place?” His voice echoed a little on the bare walls.

“This is my that place .” He looked at Mac pointedly and the man scowled at the walls around them.

“Oh. I wanted to ask you about that actually when your brother mentioned Goodneighbor being better now.” 

Xan led them down the halls that he knew like the back of his hand with a little humming tune. The stupid habit he'd picked up from his brother. He peeked his head in the matron's office and was satisfied to see it a mess, “This is the orphanage they'd kept me in until Will could come and get me.” He whispered it as though he'd wake the ghosts. 

He moved to the stairs, testing a few first to see if they'd take their weight, before moving up. He didn't know why, but he wanted to see his old bedroom. He wanted to see if the wood was still carved where he'd signed his name underneath his bed. Wanted to see if it has the same wallpaper. The tally marks he'd put into it.
It was on the top floor of the building and they crept up slowly. Everything was the same . Minus the wear and tear of a tiny nuclear war. The rug that ran along the landing was dull red and moth-eaten, the wood was still a dark lacquered brown but covered in nuclear dust and centuries of neglect. Picture frames still lined the walls but the photographs were too faded to make anything out.

He reached the stained white door that had been his and slowly pushed it open.
It was the same . As though no one had been in the place since the day he'd left when he was ten. Two hundred and twenty years ago. It was a small room, not much bigger than a good sized cupboard, with a shitty rickety child's bed shoved into the corner. A side table that was leaning dangerously on broken legs with a mismatched old wardrobe and desk. The walls were still marked by tally marks that counted every day he'd spent here; they hadn't bothered to fill them in after he'd been saved. Two years worth of neat straight lines criss-crossing over each other. 

He moved in, boots kicking up the dust, and looked out the cracked broken window. He could see the Statehouse, the Third Rail, and people milling about. No cars honking by, no kids tearing up the street, no newspaper boy shouting about the war. It was quiet.

Mac lay a hand between his shoulders and gently stroked his fingers beneath his armour straps. He laughed when he found the .308 bullets, “Thanks.” He knew they were for him, “So, what you wanna do? Set it on fire? Tear down the walls?”
Mac was looking at said walls with a frown, silently counting the marks. They were like two sides of the same coin. Made to mark walls for their own reasons and hate specific rooms from their pasts.

“Ha! No. Let it rot.” He spun on his heel to duck beneath the bed and brushed dust away from the baseboard there. Lucas Alexander Rake. Lucas Alexander Rake. Over and over to remind himself of who he was.
He came out with a grin. It was cathartic to see it, if a little grim. A mark from him from before the world ended, “This room was a prison. But also a safe haven of sorts. The kid's here didn't like me. Didn't play with me. No one barely spoke to me for two years, Rob. So, I just stayed in here reading or looking out the stupid window until Will finally found me.” He sat on the bed and pointedly ignored the centuries old dust cloud his weight created.

“Little bas- idiots . Why'd it take him so long?”

“Back then, if a kid's parents died, you couldn't just take them in out of the goodness of your heart. You had to prove that you were capable and had the means. It was hard for Will because of his war brain and my…trauma. They thought my migraines were a result of the car crash and that I had something wrong with me. I mean, I do , but Will had to fight for me anyways.”

“But you're blood related? That doesn't make sense.” He held out a cigarette and a beer which Xan accepted.

“They didn't care, Robbie. Poor little Unmarked orphan with trauma and migraines couldn't just go live with his jacked war hero brother!” He laughed but it was cold and without mirth, “What would the neighbors think? Besides, my name held weight and it made the matron here look good.”

MacCready huffed his own humourless laugh out his nose and sat down on the bed with him, “So, people have always been kinda shi- awful”

Xan laughed for real at the self-censor, “Yeah.” He looked around his room and felt strangely glad. Glad that that part of his life was long long in the past. Some dark part of him kind of pleased that the bombs had dropped and that he'd ended up here with Mac and their friends, “I hope, when we get back to Sanctuary, Duncan can have the freedom to play with the kids there. Be where he wants and just be .”

Mac cupped his jaw briefly before the hand trailed to rest on his neck, “He will. I want him to just be a kid . You know?” 

They shared a kiss. Mouths moving together as Mac's hands gently moved along Xan's neck and shoulders. Xan's hands stayed down on his lap.

They pulled away and Xan leaned his head onto Mac, “Yeah. How old is he anyway?” It felt strange talking about Mac's son in such a grim place. The words spoken now were the most he'd ever said in this room and he was happy that it was a nice topic.

“Four. Nearly five.” 

“Tell me about him.” He pulled them both back to lean against the dusty tallied wall.

Mac's eyes lit up and a smile so wide split his face, “He's perfect. He was so tiny when he was born. This little squalling thing that I didn't know what to do with. I was only eighteen or nineteen or somethin' and we didn't even have a home."
He shuffled a little so he could pull Xan into his side more, "He became my home after it was just the two of us. After Lucy died. He grew so fast. Strong little legs and he liked to put everything in his mouth. He loved the markets in the towns we passed through. All the lights and noise and people.”
Xan curled up to listen, knees resting lightly on Mac's thigh and a smile as big as his on his face, “He's so clever too. His first word was dad. He likes the colour green and comics. His favourite food is mutfruit jam. He can count to twenty.” A tear spilled down Mac's cheek and Xan swiped it away with his thumb, “Sorry, didn't even realise.” Xan kissed the next tear away.

“What does he look like?” He said quietly.

“He's got hair like mine but he's paler. Like his mum. I can't really describe him properly, Luke, he's just perfect.”

Xan smiled, “Guess I'll just have to see for myself, hmm?”

Mac kissed him then. Cheeks still wet with those few tears. Gentle and with no pressure, “Thank you.” He whispered into his mouth.

“Anything for you, Robert.”

***

They left Goodneighbor in the early morning, sun barely above the horizon, and took the road south. It would take them around a week on foot to reach his old home if everything went well, including stops for breaks and sleep.

“Will…can we go into the medical center?” Mass Bay Medical center was passing by on their right.

“What for?” Xan just shrugged but looked at him pleadingly. Anything for more supplies and Mac could see him tapping the pocket with his notebook in, “Ugh, fine. We'll go quiet, just me and you.”

Xan nodded and followed Will toward the building whilst he, Hancock, and Danse made themselves comfortable to wait. Mac had a small bubble of worry watching the pair move away before they disappeared into shadow.

Hancock sighed as he too watched them disappear, “Reckon this is what they did before they got folk behind them?” He was chewing on a Mentat and nervously tapping at an inhaler of Jet.

“It seems like they've done it hundreds of times before.” Danse said, “A well oiled machine.” 

It was true and Mac reluctantly agreed with Danse but he didn't like not following them. They didn't know what was in that building. Could be ferals. Super Mutants. Synths. Raiders. 
They waited for two torturous hours, he knew because he counted how many times he almost reached to pull his scarf away to ask Hancock to check his Mark, before he spotted the pair in a top floor window. They weren't looking out of it but he could see they were motioning at something before Xan tucked that something away into a bag. They moved out of sight again. He kept watch on the windows, hoping to spot them again. 

After a short while, Hancock nudged him and pointed up high. The brothers were waving at them from the roof. Wide grins and two heavy bags. 
He saw Will say something to Xan and he nodded. Mac's heart leapt into his throat as both brothers swung themselves off the ledge of the massive building and began scaling the old crumbling wall. They used window ledges, jutting out bits of brick and concrete, and rusted drain pipes to make their way down. He heard Xan laugh at some point. 

Will called down, “Reckon you could catch me, Hancock?”

Hancock called back, voice tight and using his hand to shadow his eyes against the sun, “Reckon you'd flatten me, Sunshine.”

Will laughed and leapt the last twenty feet down. Mac groaned in almost pain when Xan launched himself away from the wall to be quickly caught by his brother. They cackled together.

“Why didn't you just use the door?” Danse asked and Mac, once again, couldn't agree more.

Will cracked his neck and hefted his bag back into a more comfortable position, “Whole place is crawling in ferals. Easier to climb down than sneak through again.” Mac groaned again as they moved on. They were going to be the death of him.

They stopped next at the Castle. An old woman instantly began talking Will's ear off about defenses and guns and armour. Minutemen milled about the place and a great many settlers were busy working the crop fields or Brahmin. They bustled around, sometimes with ammo, sometimes with grain clutched in their arms.

Xan quickly moved to the clinic and opened his bag that was stuffed from the medical center they'd just pilfered. Clean lines, baggies of blood, Stimpaks, chems. All was tipped into the clinic and the doctor there helped him sort through it.

The doctor went to scoop up a bottle of antibiotics but Xan stopped him, “I'll need those. Have a patient down south.”

“Oh? Need a hand?”

“Nah, I'm good. Thanks though.”

They didn't stay long. Just quick enough to double check supplies and eat a quick meal. They'd camp tonight on the road or in a convenient abandoned place. Will wanted them to move as quickly as possible after Xan had told him about what Mama Murphy had been saying to him. 

The boy is weak. He's running out of time.

Mac wouldn't complain. He'd made this journey in record time before and he'd do it again. He would go by himself, he was quicker that way, but he wouldn't know where to start with the medical side of things. Xan had to come and Will wouldn't let him go with just the two of them. Hancock wouldn't let Will leave for so long without him. And Danse was a solid wall of muscle and danger between them and any threats. He'd be a shield for Duncan during the journey home. 

Home . 

Duncan would be home in two short weeks and hopefully healthy. Or healing at least.

They quickly rested in Jamaica Plain. The last Minutemen settlement between them and the wastes beyond.

“We'll take the route through the swamps. Avoid Quincy and University Point. No, Xan, you can't go to the clinic there.” Xan shut his mouth, “You have enough for us and more than enough for Duncan. You have everything you'll need. You've counted and sorted it three bloody times already.”
Mac's hand flew to the satchel that held his son's cure, the comforting weight whole, “All good, Mac?” Will nodded his head at his hand.

“All good, boss.”

“Not your boss, brother. That ship has sailed.”

Xan smiled at Will so wide at that that Mac didn't know what to say.

“Let's go.” Will said and they followed.

They hit the swamps an hour or so later. The sun was beginning to dip and Mac looked through his binoculars for shelter. The swamps were vast and filled with Mirelurks. They'd have to move slowly to prevent too many ripples that could rile the crabs up. He'd done it before. He could do it again.
He spotted an old building sticking out the swamp maybe a mile south-west and he pointed it out. 

They moved through the water achingly slow. The night began to close around them and Will lit up his PipBoy. The green light reflected off the water like the bioluminescence of a glowing feral. Danse's heavy armoured footfalls rippled around them and Mac held his breath, hoping beyond hope that there was no wildlife nearby.
Hancock, Will, and Xan were as silent as the arms of Death. They glided through the murky depths as though the water was air, barely disturbing the bubbling irradiated mess. He could feel the poison sinking into his skin but it wasn't enough to make him nauseous yet. They'd make it to the building and maybe have to have to Rad-Away then.

Thankfully, as though Lady Luck was smiling on him, nothing came out of the water to attack them. Will and Hancock checked out the half sunk building before waving them in.
Part of the floor had collapsed at some point in its sad existence but it made for an opening to higher place to settle. Hancock was hoisted up first and his hand reached down for Will. The big man was dragged up with a grunt. Mac lifted Xan as high as he could and his brother gripped his arms to pull him to the drier space. Danse lifted Mac and all four of them hoisted Danse up, Power Armour and all.

They collapsed, breathing heavily as Danse laughed, “You all need a better exercise regimen.”

Hancock waved his hand negligently as he caught his breath, “Can't all be well muscled stacks of handsomeness like you, big fella.” Danse blushed and grumbled about getting a fire started.

There were no mattresses to make a snug place for them to rest so they made do close to the fire and on the rotting wooden floor with their sleeping bags. Their clothes were wet and, by unspoken agreement, they all stripped down to dry off what they could. Mac kept his scarf tight around his neck before Xan nudged him, “Everyone here already knows, love.” Mac paused for a moment before he undid his scarf, revealing the name wrapping around his throat.

Will huffed, “What would you do without that scarf? Wear a turtleneck?”
Mac’s mouth ticked up at the corners and he brushed his hand against Lucas' name. He felt more naked than he'd ever been. Even unclothed in a shower he felt less exposed than this. Will rolled his eyes and turned his back so that Mac could see the elegant cursive of Johnathan McDonough painted down his back.
Hancock showed off his thigh with a happy grin. William Thomas Rake was printed there in all capitals. Like the man whose handwriting it was was just as assertive when he signed his name.
Danse, surprisingly, rolled his arm so that they could see the underside of his bicep. Porter Gage . 

“You know who they are?” Xan asked in interest.

“Not yet. But I look forward to the possibility.”

They all knew where Mac's name was on Xan but he showed it off anyways. They were amongst friends. Trusted. Family. The names didn't have to be secret in this little falling apart building.
The scar beneath Robert Joseph MacCready glistened white in the fire light and Xan trailed a finger over it, “I don't mind the scar,” he said to Mac quietly, “it makes you feel even more important. Emphasis , ya’know?”

Hancock hooked up Rad-Away to the other four non-radiation compatible companions, and they spent the night passing beers around. Mac pulled out his cards and dealt out poker. He won every time.

***

They kept moving south, sneaking past Quincy, before looping slightly east to avoid the edge of the Glowing Sea. Mac knew the best way down to avoid the radiation that rolled from the place so they followed his lead. They stayed along the coastline as much as possible. Climbing over rockfall from the bombs and the carcasses of sea animals, dropping straight into the ocean in some parts and wading through the shallows. 

After half a day of this, they'd finally reached a point where they could walk normally along a dusty beat up road.

“Another few miles and there should be a trade post.” Mac said as he got his bearings.
Will checked the map on his PipBoy, little points of interest popping up the further south they went. It really was a wasteland though. More so than the Commonwealth. There were no signs of big towns or settlements or even many crumbling buildings. Will remembered that a lot of the area here used to be woodland but all the trees were dead and strewn around like toothpicks. He mentioned as much to MacCready who just shrugged, “It gets worse. Trust me.”

Danse nodded along, “Where we’re from, there was barely any water, never mind plant or viable animal life. People fought constantly for whatever little they had. A few towns established themselves but were very mistrustful of outsiders so trade wasn’t good. Thankfully, I was taken in by the Brotherhood.”

“Oh, yeah, good for you.” Mac said with no small amount of sarcasm dripping from him, “You got the Brotherhood. I lived in a cave until I was sixteen and then was dumped into the real world and just had to deal. Fought for every cap and scrap of food I had.”
Mac calmed a little as Xan slipped a hand in his, “The weather is awful there too. So hot you have to find shelter before noon or you’ll crisp up.”

“Makes the Commonwealth sound like a veritable paradise in comparison.” Will stated dryly.

“We’re not going to hit the Capital though so we don’t need to worry too much about it. And it’s barely spring.”

“How close will we get?” Will didn’t like the sound of the place. He wanted to just get the kid from wherever he was and sprint back to Sanctuary. They looped west, following Mac along the long road ahead.

“Uh, pretty north of the true Capital Wasteland actually. Me and Duncan moved in with some friends once they got a farm started up. Not sure what the place used to be called, but it’s called Catskull now. We live on the outskirts of it.”

Xan laughed, “Catskull? It’s not on a river is it?”

“Yeah, why?”

“We’re going to Catskill, Will. Greene County.”

Will smiled, “That little place? Didn’t we stay there one night?”

“Uh huh, when we were coming back from fishing Oneida.” 

MacCready was once again floored by the pair. It felt like they’d lived a parallel life to him but two hundred years apart. Mirror images to his own movements across the east coast. He looked to Hancock who seemed to have the same look of astonishment on his face. The Ghoul must have a similar sense of mind-blowing bewilderment. The pair had tromped through Goodneighbor before it was Goodneighbor. Had sat in Diamond City when it was still just a sporting ground. MacCready always kind of forgot that they’d had lives before the Vault.

And so the journey went. They stopped where they could but never for too long. A lingering sense of urgency was forever in the back of their minds. The land was hilly and swampy in places and hard packed and dusty in others and Xan wondered how Mac had made this journey alone. There were definitely safe routes as caravans travelled between cities often but they always had guards. Maybe raiders weren’t as common in the wilderness? It’s not like the people could claim a building like they did back home. It was all dead trees with a random trade post here and there.
The wasteland really was a wasteland.

Days passed and they travelled through what Xan knew used to be Springfield but was little more than the rubble of two hundred plus year old concrete now. The river that had run through it was dry and he was suddenly very grateful for the Charles River that still flowed strong into the ocean that bordered the Commonwealth. It nourished the ground and kept plant life and crops alive. Deep underground reserves tappable by the water spouts they set up in the settlements and river water clear enough for water purifiers to be effective.

They were exhausted from the grueling pace set by Will and Mac so decided to stop for a full night's rest, rather than just a few hours.

Will, Danse and Hancock decided to wander around a bit to find a fusion core or two for the Power Armour. So, Mac and Xan settled in a sheltered building that sat by the edge of the dry river bed. Their fire was hidden and the door could shut. Xan jammed the door with a chair and collapsed on a rotten mattress with an arm over his face.

Fuck, I’m so tired.

He could feel his heart beat in his feet and kicked off his boots to give them some relief. His head was hurting, He hadn’t really realised how stressful travelling this far would be. Travelling through the Commonwealth, you knew what to expect. The relatively lush area was home to all myriad of wildlife, people, and even Super Mutants. You knew where to avoid or where to hide. Here though? Just on the trail that was bare for miles and miles around with no cover? He’d kept looking over his shoulder with the feeling of being watched. Crows would pick at dead Brahmin and watch them walk by, or they’d pass the odd caravan with their hands close to weapons, but otherwise there was nothing. Nothing. It was disconcerting and ominous. He kept expecting to be attacked, the prickling feeling of being watched constantly erupting over his skin.

His usual method of calming himself by counting hadn't helped, there wasn't enough around to distract him, and he'd had to force himself many times to not fall apart. Will had noticed at one point but thankfully, hadn't embarrassed him by carrying him like he would've done if they were alone.

“Hurting?” Mac asked as he sat beside him on the moldy mattress.

“Hmm, little bit.”

He clucked his tongue and placed his cool fingers against his temples, rubbing soft circles into the pressure points, “What’s causing it?”

“Dunno. This place feels weird and it's tensing me up. How did you do it alone?”

“Adrenaline and nicotine.” Xan opened one eye and grinned as Mac held a cigarette out to him. He slowly sat up and leaned against him. Mac lit his cig and they watched the smoke drift around them, “I’m glad I’m not doing it alone this time.”

“Me too. When you told me about Duncan and we were making the plans for Med-Tek, I was worried that you were gonna leave…”

Mac took a drag and looped an arm over Xan, “If I had to go get Duncan alone, I would’ve brought him back with me.”

“Yeah?” His migraine was easing now with the help of a cigarette and Mac’s voice floating about him.

“Sure. Even with the journey and the Institute and the Super Mutants and the Gunners, the Commonwealth is much safer than the Wasteland for a kid. Hell, it’s safer that Catskull.”
He made a face as though he didn’t really like the town so Xan nudged him to elaborate, “It’s a weird place and thankfully we only live on the outskirts but I had to go in to trade and to make caps and I hated it. It used to be a raider town but it fell apart when the Brotherhood rolled through and ‘ normal ’ people moved in but they aren’t like the people we find back home in the settlements. They took the name Catskull seriously. Kinda cultish . Also, you're in the Commonwealth. Can't have Duncan not meet you.” He nudged his shoulder with his.

Xan grinned at the thought of meeting Duncan soon before shuddering at the connotations of Catskull, “I can only imagine what they do with a name like Catskull .”

“You won't have to imagine it soon.” He said with a dry laugh. His hand went to one of his many pockets and pulled out a collection of bird skulls. Five hollow white domes with black beaks. Xan looked at him with a frown, “Like I said, kinda cultish.”

Mac kissed him then and Xan once again forced his hands not to roam over his body. He loved kissing Mac but the frustration of not touching him in these moments was building. Mac hummed and pulled away and they settled down to rest. The bird bones tucked safely back away.

***

“Oh my God . This place is amazing!” Will was like a kid at Christmas. A nuclear war and two hundred years and they’d found a diamond in the rough. It was miraculously uninhabited. There was a largeish cabin that must've been used for tourists at some point that overlooked a huge lake. The lake was irradiated to all hell but still looked fantastic.

“Copake Lake” Xan said from behind him.

“Hush, swot, and let me enjoy the view a moment before you ruin it with facts.” He said lightly and nudged his brother away.
Xan, Danse, and Mac went toward the cabin to check and clear it and he just stared out at the setting sun over the blissful still water. It glittered and sparkled and Will was like a magpie enraptured by it. The lake was probably why the area was abandoned. It was practically glowing with radiation but he pretended for a moment that it was just the light of the sun.

“Big cabin, Sunshine.”

“I know, isn't it great? Hopefully it has actual beds in it.”

“Mmm, and a door that shuts?”

“And thick walls.”

“Stop, you're making me think impure thoughts.”

A lantern was lit in the cabin and he looked down at Hancock with a quirk of a brow, “Wanna stay outside?”

“Don't care. Been hard since this morning after waking up with your dick on my ass.”

“Ooo, I love it when you're desperate.” He crowded his Ghoul down to the ground. The dry cracking grass was slightly prickly but he didn't give a shit right then.

He ran his mouth along Hancock's jaw before bringing their lips together. Hancock opened easily for him and his tongue slipped inside, licking Hancock’s with his. He groaned into it and hovered over the smaller man as he got situated between his legs, “How far you wanna go, sweetheart? Gotta be quick before someone comes outside.”

Hancock rolled his hips up, the threat of being caught rolling around in the grass like a teenager sending a delicious spark through his nerves, “Damn, Sunshine, you know I like to take my time.”

William kissed at Hancock’s neck with a little puff of a laugh, “When we get home, you can have all the time you want.”

“Promise?”

“Always.”

“Better get to fucking then, William.”

He ground his hips down against Hancock’s dick, “ Fuck, I love it when you say my name.”
He quickly untied the knot that held his flag in place and found the buckle of his belt beneath it. Hancock shifted to start removing his coat but Will stopped him, “Coat stays on, John.” Hancock smirked at him and Will was popping buttons and pulling at zips before he yanked Hancock's pants down to his boots.

“That's a little restrictive, Will.” He couldn't move his legs properly but Will just grinned down at him.

“Oh no, whatever will you do?”

Then his mouth was on him and Hancock shut up. He licked at his hip bones as one hand found its way beneath his shirt. He lets his fingers dip into the sensitive scars and scratch lightly on his stomach and chest. Hancock hissed from between his teeth before groaning as Will licked a long stripe up the sensitive underside of his dick. He was already dripping and Will collected the precum with a swirl of his tongue. He tasted like petrichor and it was almost hot.
He knew it was the radiation that flowed through Hancock's veins but he didn't care. Nothing a little Rad-Away wouldn't fix if it came to it.

Hancock’s fingers curled in his hair and he pushed his head down with a desperate whine.  Will looked up at him through his eyelashes and held contact with the abyssal black eyes of his person. He sank his head down all the way to the Ghoul's hips and felt him bump the back of his throat. He swallowed around him and Hancock covered his mouth with a hand as he thrust upwards. He moved up, pressing his tongue hard against him, before dropping back down and picking up a punishing rhythm that had Hancock squirming. His legs tangled in his pants, he couldn't get proper purchase to roll his hips fast enough into Will's mouth and it was a glorious torture.

Will moved his head further down, tongue trailing along the crease of his hip and thigh before he licked at Hancock's hole. He heard his lover muffle a cry as he clamped his mouth shut as Will pushed his tongue inside and started fucking him with it. He was panting hard and Will hummed to allow the vibration to rattle through him.
He pulled away for a quick moment to spit on his fingers before delving back into his meal. He brought a wet finger to Hancock's arse and teased at the tight ring of muscle there. He didn't wait too long for the sensation to build for him before pushing inside alongside his tongue.

“ Shit! Will!”

He pulled his mouth away with a smile, “Shush, John, told you we gotta be quick and quiet.” He crooked his finger and Hancock quivered. He brushed at his prostate and he held the base of his dick to stop him cumming when he heard those delicious little warning keens he makes. He added another finger and scissored them to open him up, “Gonna fuck you so hard and fast, love. Keep that pretty mouth quiet for me.”

Hancock could only nod as he pushed back against Will's hand. Will let go of his straining and leaking dick and undid his own pants with one hand. He freed himself and idly stroked at himself as he watched Hancock come apart on his fingers. He licked his palm to wet himself and then pulled his fingers free. Hancock groaned in protest but didn't have much time to be too sad at the emptiness as Will pushed his tangled legs to one side, twisting Hancock’s hips whilst keeping him flat on his back. The Ghoul's dick was trapped between his thighs and Will added a bit of weight there just to watch him squirm.

He lined himself up and enjoyed the view as he pushed slowly inside. He was so warm. Almost too warm, more so than any other human had a right to be. And tight. So fucking tight that he could imagine his slight frame being split apart by him. It tickled that dark part in his brain. That part of violence and blood rain and the drumming beats of battle. 
Hancock hissed as he was filled and Will forced himself to pause to let him adjust. He liked it rough. Not painful. And while Will enjoyed the mix of pleasure and pain - causing it and experiencing it - he wouldn't hurt the man writhing in the grass below him. The name down his spine wouldn't let him. It warmed and burned every time the Ghoul smiled at him.

He waited, sweat dripping from his brow and arms shaking as he watched for Hancock’s nod. Time was so slow and he ran a hand up his Ghoul's side and over his hip, trailing little patterns into his scarred and warped skin. God he was gorgeous like this. A mess beneath him. Red coat sprawled out in the grass, legs restrained and a dick splitting him.

Finally, he nodded and Will moved. A little slow at first just to make sure there was no lingering stinging or pain before speeding up. He dragged himself almost all the way out before slamming back in. Hancock’s hand flew to his arms and squeezed as he cried out.
Will leaned over his body and covered his mouth with a hand, “Hush, John.” He managed to rasp out as black eyes met his. He drove into him hard and those eyes fluttered shut and his head tilted back. Will bit at the bone of his clavicle and he felt Hancock roll and shiver beneath him. He was perfect . Ravaged hands scratched down his arms, trying to find skin through his armour and clothes and Will grinned at the frustrated scrabbling, “No touching for you today.” Hancock whined before deciding to wrap his fingers in his hair and pull hard. It was Will's turn to hiss now and his hips jerked erratically as the pain made him thunder closer toward that deep pool of bliss.

He opened Hancock's thighs and freed the trapped cock. He wrapped his hand around it and began to work it in time with the roll of his hips.

“ Mmm! Mfft!” Hancock was panting into his hand, wet spit filled his palm but Will didn't let go.

“I know, sweet thing, such a good little lover, aren't you? So beautiful and all for me…” Hancock quivered around him with a muffled cry and hot cum started to spill out of him. He felt all his muscles inside begin to tighten as they clamped down on his dick and he saw stars, “Oh, fuck , John.”
His forehead bumped against Hancock's shoulder and he came, coating the Ghoul's insides before letting himself collapse a little against him, “Shit. I love you.”

He felt Hancock's fingers gently brushing the stinging from his scalp and a gentle kiss was placed on his head, “Love you too, Sunshine.”

***

Catskull sat on the bank of what used to be the Hudson River. The area had been raider territory for years and years before the Brotherhood cleared it out and made it mostly safe for people looking to settle down.

However, it never really lost the raider aesthetic or feel. The people here were hardy and used intimidation to avoid most conflicts with the travelling bands of psychos that were looking for food, water, and sick thrill. That intimidation started as soon as you looked at the place. 

An old bridge crossed the slow moving dirty water. Made of dark old pine wood and lined with razor wire and pikes and on the pikes were skulls. All kinds of bones; human, deer, bird, dog. But mostly cats.
Beyond the bridge was a barricade system that led up to the metal gates of the town itself. The gates were painted red and decorated with the ragged clothes of people who had tried to take Catskull from the hardy settlers. More cat skulls of various sizes were nailed to the walls and along the tops of the wall. Guards with automatic rifles that walked the wall were dressed in browns and dirty greys and heavy metal armour. Smoke and steam rose beyond them and they could hear the clanging of metal and the calling of townsfolk. It had been his home for two years.

MacCready led the way over the bridge to the muttered pissed off remarks of Will and Xan. They liked animals and passing by the skulls of what they'd consider pets disconcerted them. Like they were designed to do.

He wound his way through the barricades, avoiding spikes and pitfalls, before stopping before the blood red gate. His friends huddled around behind him.

A slit in the gate opened and a pair of dark tired eyes looked out at them, “ MacCready? Jesus, we thought ya were dead, man.” The thick accent of Clancy was muffled behind the metal.

“Nah, Clancy, just had a job that went long. You gonna let us in?”

“Who're yur pals?” His eyes lingered on the Power Armour of Danse.

“My employers.” Mac shrugged and Clancy's eyes narrowed minutely. He heard one of his friends scoff behind him at the word employers.

“What ya here for, Mac?”

“C’mon, man, can't a guy visit home without being interrogated?”

“Payment?”

MacCready went into his pocket and pulled out the five bird skulls he'd managed to scavenge from the road leading out from the Commonwealth. He held them out and Clancy counted them carefully and checked the wholeness of them.

There was a long pause before a huge clanking sound started and the gate slid open to the side, a gap just big enough to let them through. He led the way inside and handed over the bones to the gruff bearded man.

Guards watched them pass with hands on their weapons and some settlers paused in whatever they'd been doing before the tension snapped and people quickly went back to their business. A few took the time to whistle and leer at the brothers which Mac chose to ignore. It wasn't unusual for them to enter a town and be the center of attention for a few minutes.
Xan went to slip his hand in his but Mac shook his head, “Not here, Xan.” He whispered, “These people aren't exactly friends.” Xan nodded but stayed close by.

The town was exactly as he remembered it from eight or nine (or maybe more?) months ago. Dirty shacks and the ground was slick with wet mud and other things. Brahmin were left to wander where they pleased and people tended to just tip their household waste into the walkways. Rats and other vermin skittered around.
Maybe, if they kept the cats alive, they wouldn't have rats.
Fire barrels were dotted about the place that some folk huddled around or used to cook whatever scraps they had. People flitted from place to place, sometimes sitting before women who tossed bones in pans and bending over the shapes they made when the pan went still. Always armed and dressed in whatever ragged clothing they could scavenge.
Dirty thin children spent their time poking dead things with sticks or throwing mud at walls and each other. And everyone wore a bone decorated necklace.

“Well, brother, this is… homey. ” Hancock mumbled behind him. There were no ghoul residents in this place. They were normally turned away at the gate. Or killed. Mac kept that information to himself.

“It's not Sanctuary for sure.” Will whispered. His sharp icy eyes flickering everywhere, hand close to his gun. The people gave Danse a wide berth, his Power Armour enough of a deterrent for any possible trouble makers, as the helmeted head of him looked from side to side constantly.

They passed by what served as the clinic in this place and he saw Xan wince. It was open air and filthy like everything else in Catskull. Old blood had been left to dry on tables and chairs and the tools they could see were stained and rusty. Old human bones decorated the walls, some still with bits of skin on them. He didn't approach the “clinic” but the disapproval rolled off him in waves.

“Hey! MacCready! Nice rifle.” A man from a nearby trade post called out to him. He was missing his teeth after selling them to the bone women but he grinned wide at him anyways, “You looking to sell it, eh?”

He hefted the sleek black rifle Xan had gifted him, “Not on your life, Dev.”

“Ah, c’mon, you normally do anything for a few caps.” He laughed, the insinuation clear in his tone.
Mac tensed and paused in the street. He briefly shut his eyes against the sudden wave of anger and embarrassment that flooded through him. Xan looked around him at Dev and scowled, his hidden blade slipping from his sleeve. He heard him whisper “ fuckhead” and Mac subtly nudged him to stop the small, suddenly furious, man from leaving his side. 

Dev kept laughing until Will and Hancock approached his stall with thunderous faces. Mac was mortified and looked around to check for the guards. None were around but some people were definitely staring with yellowing hungry eyes, “You wanna do some trade, pal?” Will muttered in a dark voice, “What will you do for some caps, hmm?”

Dev held his hands up, eyes wide and mouth open, “Hey, man, I didn't know he was yours. The little shit knows it's a joke.”

Hancock hummed, cold and bloody, and placed one of his many knives on the desk, “Hmm, doesn't look like he thinks it's a joke.” The knife point dug into the wood, “What would you do for a knife like this? Sell me a finger bone?”
The townsfolk, sensing more trouble than it was worth, started to walk away quickly with some muttering about fetching the guards.

MacCready rolled his shoulders and allowed the tension to fall off him, “C’mon, he's not worth it. Let's just get what we need and leave.”

Hancock and Will pushed off from the desk causing it to rattle. Dev winced at the noise and they continued the walk up the path. Xan nudged his shoulder but Mac shook his head. None of his friends asked for any clarification about Dev's comment and he was infinitely grateful for it. They knew what the guy had meant anyway.

He hated this place. Stupid idiot people who couldn't even keep the town clean for kids. He was suddenly very glad to be taking Duncan from Catskull, regardless of the dangerous and long journey back to the Commonwealth.
Why had he moved near here anyway? It seemed so bloody a stupid idea in hindsight but he'd been desperate. A two year old on his hip and nowhere else to go but the farm.

When was the last time his boy had seen an animal that wasn't sick? Plant life that wasn't poisonous? River water that wasn't choked with nuclear sludge and human waste. People that wouldn't use him for everything he had. Right down to his fucking bones.

He couldn't wait to get back to Sanctuary. The clean, mostly friendly, people. The kids that played in an old playground under watch by the stern school teacher, Marcy. The brook that surrounded it was clean and set up with purifiers.
Sanctuary really was a sanctuary. 

He led the way out the back wall and took a deep breath. The wasteland stretched ahead and he headed south-east along a little footpath that would take him to the farm of Val and Steve. The only decent people he knew of that lived in the vicinity of Catskull, “About a two hour walk now.” He mumbled.

Xan slipped his hand in his and he didn't shake it off this time, “You ready?”

“Ready as I'll ever be.” He ducked his chin against his scarf and just kept putting one foot in front of the other.
He felt wobbly. Like his muscles weren't getting enough oxygen. His heart was thundering in his chest. He wanted to see Duncan so badly he thought he could sprint there, but he was nervous about what they'd find. Was he worse? Did he remember who he was? Had the sores eaten through him. Was he still breathing? 

“Breathe, love.” Xan whispered, “Breathe. I'll do everything I can to get him ready to come home.”

He felt the presence of the others behind them, keeping watch on their surroundings and looking back at the town every now and then to make sure they weren't being followed. He tried to relax. He could do this.

After a while, the sun beginning its descent, he saw the farm in the distance. 
The house, the mutfruit and razorgrain fields, the well that he'd help dig years ago to marginally cleaner water. The soft lanterns that lit up the porch. Not a bone, cat or otherwise, in sight. It was a haven in this shitty place near that shitty town.

He paused and just looked out at it. His son was there. So close now that he could smell his hair, hear his voice, see his eyes.

Xan lay a hand on his back and Will placed his hand on his shoulder. Hancock and Danse stood by his side. It didn't feel real. He checked his satchel. The comforting feel of his son's cure felt like a lead weight. 

They followed the trail and before he could even think, he was on the steps of the porch. The door opened a crack and the barrel of a shotgun was pointed at them, almost poking him in the chest. He heard a choked noise come from Xan and the shuffle of a foot move on the step before he motioned with his hand for them to stop.

“Turn around. We don't want any trouble. We're just farmers.”

“Steve, it's me.”

The shotgun clattered to the ground and the door banged open with a loud crack. A rugged muscled man stumbled out onto the porch. Eyes wide and a massive grin on his rough sun-burnt face, “RJ! You're here!” He grabbed at Mac and pulled him into a rough crushing hug, “Oof, you smell ripe…” Mac wasn't surprised by the comment or the truthfulness of it and let himself relax against his friend.

They heard a crash inside the house and heavy fast footfalls before a small woman with dark skin and wild hair crashed into MacCready and Steve so hard both men stumbled, “Oh my God! Oh my God ! You're okay! When you didn't send a letter this week we started to get worried!” Her hands flittered over him, voice rising an octave as water began to gather in her big happy brown eyes.

“Ouch, sorry, Val.” He stepped away with a smile, “We have it. We found the cure.”

The water in Val's eyes spilled over and her hand flew to her mouth with a muffled sob.
Then, she suddenly seemed to notice the small group standing awkwardly on the porch of her home, “Oh, RJ, I can't believe it.” She gestured at the rest of them, “And..?”

Mac waved Xan over, “He's a medic. He can help Duncan.” Will, Danse and Hancock stepped forward slightly protectively as Xan joined his side, “And my friends.”

“Well come in. Come in! Rest, eat, and get comfortable! Any friend of RJ's is a friend of ours. Welcome welcome welcome.” Steve waved them inside and they stepped over the threshold, “Maybe leave the Power Armour outside, friend?” Danse stepped out the armour and removed the power core from the back.

They stepped into the farmhouse. It was a good size and made from light warm yellow wood. Soft furniture was scattered about, tables and chairs, a warm kitchen and candle light. Stairs led the way up to the second and third story and Mac let himself have a moment to just take it in. 

Xan immediately took charge, hefting his bag of supplies and looking around, “Where's the boy, I need to check him over.”

Val's face fell a bit with sadness and worry as she pottered with a tray of glasses and drinks, “He's up the stairs, first floor second door along.”
Not dead. Not alone. Upstairs in their room. Mac suddenly desperately wanted to sit down and felt his knees shake. Danse discreetly held his elbow a moment so he could steady himself.

“Is he conscious?” Xan asked as he pulled a white cloth out of his pocket and began folding it.

“N-no…”

“When was the last time he was awake and alert.” The cloth was wrapped over his mouth and nose and Will tied it tight around the back of his head. He pressed it to the skin of his cheeks and under his chin with his fingers.

“Umm, maybe three weeks ago. We've kept him on fluids but…” She was watching this small serious man cover himself with confusion.

“No food?” He looked at Will whose sharp eyes double checked the cloth before he nodded with a frown.

Val shook her head, her hands wringing and twisting her own fingers, “We've tried.”

“I'm sure you've done your best. I'll go check him right now.”

“We'll wait here, Xan. Keep watch.” Will said as he sat in an offered chair and nodded his thanks at Steve as he passed over a beer.

“Okay, let's go, Mac.” Xan had one foot on the stairs.

Mac suddenly felt raw and stretched. He wanted to ask about the cloth but he felt pulled in all different directions. He hadn't seen his son in so long and he couldn't move. What if he was worse? Dying in his little bed? Not breathing. What if Val and Steve were trying to be gentle in breaking the news to him? He felt the bile rise in his throat.

“Mac.” His slightly muffled voice pulled him back to reality. Xan didn't reach for him but his steady gaze met his, “Come on, he needs his dad.” 

Duncan needed him. He just had to walk up the stairs. His steps felt heavy and weighed down. His head light and shaky. His fingers prickled and his heart pounded, “Breathe, Mac.” Xan whispered as they stood on the landing. He could hear his friends talking quietly downstairs, smell cooking food and cigarette smoke. Xan placed a firm hand on his arm, “Breathe. You got this and I'll go with you the whole way.” His bright blue eyes urged him to move his feet, “He has a fighting chance but he'll need you with him.” His son needed him.

He nodded and walked down the hall to his old bedroom. It felt like it was a hundred feet away but also too close. The setting sun filtered through the windows in a soft orange glow but it felt too bright. Too cheerful.

He stood before the door, hand on the knob, and just stared at the pale green woodgrain. Xan's hand wrapped around his own and helped him twist the doorknob. It swung open and he felt the breath leave him in a ragged tearing pull.
The room smelled of sickness even with it being kept clean and cared for. The window let in a gentle cooling draft that ruffled the sheer sheet used as a curtain. His own old bed was to one side, rumpled as if someone had been sleeping in it. Probably Val so she could watch over Duncan in the night. 

And there, tucked in tight on his little bed, was his son. Brown curly hair splayed over the pillow. His blue-grey eyes were shut, face so pale against the dark blue sheets. The blue and black sores have spread up his neck and around his mouth since the last time he'd seen him and he didn't want to imagine what the rest of him looked like. He was so small and thin for his age. His little chest was rattling as he breathed slowly. Bags of fluids drained down lines that disappeared beneath the sheets.

He was by his bed in a second, hand flying to the satchel that held his cure, “Duncan?” He knelt and gently brushed his hair back from where it stuck to his clammy skin, “Duncan, baby. I'm here.” The boy didn't answer or open his eyes. He was so still. A wet drip darkened the blue sheets beneath Mac and he quickly wiped his face before turning to Xan.

His Soulmate had his black bandanna pulled up over the cloth now, hands digging into his bag and pulling out all manner of medical things that MacCready didn't understand. He placed them onto the small bedside table, carefully placing the Mr. Gutsy model they'd sent what felt like months ago to one side, and Mac recognized his “work mode”. At that moment, Mac didn't exist to him, just Lucas' tools and his patient were in that room. He watched him pull on white gloves that snapped to his hands and wrists like a second skin. 

He nudged MacCready over gently and Mac quickly made room for him to work, never taking his eyes off his hands and they flitted around his son.
He checked his pulse beneath his jaw bone first, then his hand lay flat on his chest where he paused for a long moment, his eyes watching the rise and fall of the feeble ribs.
He started to draw back the sheets and part of Mac's brain screamed at him to turn away but he couldn't. He watched as all of his son was revealed to the light.

He could see every bone. His collarbone stood out starkly, highlighted by the blue rash that followed down his ribcage, his concave belly, jutting hips. He was so pale and mottled. His little fingers were blue and lay limp in the bed. MacCready covered his mouth to stifle the sob that tore through him from deep in his guts.

Xan nodded to himself before turning to the fluid bags and reading the labels. He checked the lines and the points where they stuck into Duncan's elbow creases and forearms. Then his fingers held Duncan's, so gently and delicate, and then he checked the pulse in his wrist.

“Luke?” Mac whispered but Xan just turned to his tools.

He dragged the side table closer to himself and pulled out alcohol and pre-boiled water. He wet a clean cloth with a mix of the two and started wiping down every inch of Duncan's skin, folding the cloth carefully as he went. His son's flesh glistened and the boils stood out even more.
Mac nearly cried when the flash of a scalpel drew delicately over one of the larger boils. It leaked a white, almost clear, fluid that had Xan humming as though it answered some unknown question for him. He folded a piece of cloth and pressed it to the leaking boil before moving on.

Then, Xan removed the fluid lines, placing another clean cloth onto the tiny holes left behind. He took out a new bag of some milky thick fluid and attached it to a new infusion line that had an extra port midway up. Mac could read the label that had Xan's own chicken-scratch handwriting on it: Saline + antibio + stim-supplement. He allowed some of the fluid to drip to the floor out of the line. He attached a thicker needle at the end before pushing it into a starkly visible vein on the boy's neck. He taped it down before finally saying a word with his hand out, “Prevent.”

Mac quickly dug the delicate cloth wrapped vial out of his satchel and handed it over with shaking hands. Xan unwrapped the vial before completely snapping the syringe point off the end, “Xan!”
Xan ignored him as he removed the plunger system from around the vial and then doused the naked glass and white gloves in alcohol.
He stood for a minute to allow the alcohol to dry and then brought the vial to the extra port on the line and twisted it on where it stayed. The milky fluid below the port turned pink as Prevent was slowly added in drips to the thick mix. Mac watched the colour spread down the line where it eventually disappeared into his son's neck. Xan watched for a moment before bringing his fingers to his son's pulse point and waited. It was deathly silent, save for the rattling wet breaths of Duncan, for what felt like forever before Xan said, “Now, we wait.”

Mac sat on the ground and just stared up at him. Lit up by the orange of the setting sun and standing over his son. He didn't have the words.

“Go and eat, Robert. There's nothing you can do right now and you need to rest and clean up.”

“I can't.”

“You must.” His tone left no room for argument, still in stern doctor mode, and Mac found himself inexplicably standing and moving to the door. He turned at the threshold and watched Xan pull a chair to the side of his son's bed and sit. He lay a gloved hand on his chest and he heard him count under his breath, face still covered by the cloth and bandanna.

He left his son in the care of the ethereal being watching over him.

Chapter Text

He woke sometime in the night in his old bed. The house was quiet around him and he could hear the night time insects through the still open window.

He looked over at Xan and Duncan. A small lantern was lit and Xan was still sitting watching his son. At some point, whilst he was sleeping, clean white bandages had been wrapped around the worst of the rash and small folds of it had been taped to the sores around his mouth. The fluid line was free of pink now but was still slowly administering the thick concoction of Xan's making.

He watched Xan shift and place his still gloved fingers on Duncan's wrist before dipping his still wrapped face to place an ear against his chest. He stayed like that for a minute before resuming his vigil. Mac mumbled half sleepily, “How is he?”

Xan jumped and turned in his seat to look at him, “He's doing okay, promise. The meds made the sores burst a little so I had to wrap him. His heartbeat is stronger and the fluid is leaving his lungs. I'll give him a regular Stimpak in a few hours to help with the healing but he'll still be weak for a while.”
Mac saw Xan's eyes crease with a hidden smile, “He's going to be okay given some time.” he paused for one moment before saying, “He has a name , you know?” He pointed to his own back just above his right hip. Mac would check it later.

He felt like a Brahmin that had been sitting on his chest for the past year had suddenly got up and he could breathe again, “Are you sure?” 

How is this real?

“I promised, didn't I?” His light lilting voice was tired but humorous.

He smiled at him and sat up, “Have you slept? I can watch him. I want to.”

“Do you know how to listen for fluid on the lungs or how fast his heart should be beating?”

“Um, no?”

“Then, I'll sleep when he wakes up. Until then, I need to keep an eye on his vitals. I'm okay.” 
He gestured to Duncan's bed, “You can sit with him. He's out of the woods.” Mac was by the bed in two quick strides and carefully perched on the edge by his son's legs, almost hovering, “You're not going to break him, love. Lie down with him. You should be the first thing he sees when he wakes up.”

Mac did as he was told and rested his head beside Duncan's. He smelled like alcohol and medicine but he buried his nose in his soft fluffy hair anyways and shut his eyes. His fingers found his boy's hand and gently wrapped around it.

“He looks like you, Robbie. You were right, he is perfect.”

Mac huffed next to his son's ear before cracking an eye open to look at Xan. His gloved hand was on Duncan's jaw as he carefully lifted one of the bandages and peeked beneath. He was sweating, small drips wetting the cloth and bandanna that wrapped his face, “Why are you wearing that?”

Xan carefully put the bandage back and checked Duncan's breathing again before he met his eyes, “You won't be happy if I tell you.”

“Well, you'd better tell me then, hadn't you?” 

He looked down at him before rolling his neck and sitting back in his chair, “The disease Duncan has, it was only ever found in children and teenagers.”
His fingers were tapping his thigh and Mac felt a pit form in his stomach, “The oldest recorded patient we found was twenty-one. I don't know if I'm immune.”

“...what?” 

“There was never a vaccine and Prevent was the first successful drug we'd managed to make…the only one -” 

What?

“Lucas…why did you…how could…” 

“To save your son. The chances of me catching anything are low, Rob, but I still had to take precautions. The Stimpak in a few hours will close the wounds and then there'll be no risk but, until then, I'll stay covered.” 

“Lucas!” His voice was louder than he planned and quickly lowered it where it came out a hiss, “What the fu- hell ! Why didn't you tell me before?”

“Because, you wouldn't have let me try.” 

“You can't do this! What will you do if you get sick? What will you -”

“Stop, Rob. It's already done and I'll know in a few days. I'll take the antibiotics until then.” His eyes had hardened at him as though he were being the unreasonable one.

“What will I do? Did you think of that? If you got this and I had to live with the knowledge that I traded you for Duncan?” He could feel his blood boiling and threatening to spill out in a shouting roll of anger.

Xan flinched but didn't raise his voice, “It wasn't your choice to make.”

Mac took a deep breath and carefully climbed off the bed and found his boots and coat and pulled them on. Xan watched him with tired sad eyes from his chair and kept watching him as left the room, shutting the door with a soft click. 
As calmly as he could, he moved down the quiet hall and down the stairs. He saw Will, humming a quiet melody to himself, standing by a window in the living space but ignored him as he opened the front door of the house and stepped out into the night. 
There, he punched one of the support beams of the porch as hard as he could and muffled a scream into his elbow.
The night didn't care as it remained silent around him. 

He sat on a step lit a cigarette and wiped the blood from his knuckles.

Not my fucking choice to make. You didn't even give me the option.

He thought back to the exchange Xan had had with the doctor at the Castle over the antibiotics.

I'll need them. I have a patient down south.

Xan was the patient. The one who needed the pills to ward off infection and disease.

He fumed as he stared into the blackness of the farm. He'd said the chances are low but there was still a chance! A risk that he shouldn't be taking. 

He heard the door open behind him and the soft thud of heavy boots. Will sat beside him and he forced himself not to shout at him, “Did you know?”

“Did I know what?” Will blew smoke out his lungs and leaned back on one elbow, seemingly completely relaxed.

“The risk Lucas was taking when he went into Duncan's room.” Mac glared down at his Soulmate's older brother, they looked so alike and it was easy to pin some blame there.

“Oh, yeah. Wouldn't be the first time, Mac.” He shrugged and took another drag before looking at Mac with a neutral smirking face. Completely unbothered.

What the fuck? 

“Don't you ever take anything seriously? He could die . Why did you let him do it?”

“Mac, he was doing this shit even before the bombs fell. He knows how to keep himself safe in these situations, more so than you or me.” He sat up and looked down at him, “He's fragile but not in this. I'm not going to insult his intelligence. He knows what he's doing.”

Mac scoffed, “Fragile? Coming from the guy who bruises him on the daily?” It was low but he was pissed off to high heaven and needed an outlet that didn't involve screaming at Xan. 

He wouldn't speak to Lucas the way Lucy had spoken to him.

“What?” Will had the nerve to look confused.

“You fuc…you've left bruises on his arms every single fucking day.” The curse slipped out but he didn't care, “Doesn't seem like you care how fragile he is.” 

He threw his cigarette away as hard as he could and watched the ember fly away into the night. He wanted to punch Will but wasn't stupid enough to do it. The General could probably kill him with one hand and Lucas would be pissed.

Will was looking down at his hands with a frown, “I do?”

“What?”

“I bruise him?” Cold blue eyes looked back at him then.

“...yeah, boss. Uh, Will. You grab him too hard.” He felt the anger ebb away as quick as a match going out. It drained out of him and left him exhausted.

“Why didn't he tell me?”

“Why didn't he tell me about him taking this risk?” He rubbed his forehead and shut his eyes before leaning against the support beam he’d tried to murder.

The General looked up at the sky and sighed, “He's so fucking stubborn, Mac. Always has been. Gets an idea in his head and just goes with it regardless of what anyone else says. Any stupid distraction pulls at him. Looting this or that, exposing himself to disease, cutting his fingers in machines, climbing as high as he can just to see what he could see. Broke his leg once because he wouldn't listen to me when I told him the roof was too wet for his fucking telescope.” He looked back at Mac.
“I know he didn't actually try and run away that time. I'm not completely stupid, ya know?” Mac could only stare at him, “I wanted someone to stop Nick from getting too close and to maybe bring him down to earth a bit.” 

Mac frowned at Nick's name. The synth had been quiet in his weird obsession before they'd left to come here and he wasn't looking forward to seeing the guy again.

“Then Hancock told me your name when he pointed you out. I hired you specifically because I knew who you were, I knew before Xan. Lucas. Obviously, not for very long but still.” He shrugged with a self satisfied smile, “I led him into that bar because I knew who you would be to him.”

It felt obvious now that he’d said it. Will was protective to the point of pain and wouldn’t have just hired any mercenary. He was smarter than most people gave him credit for, “Oh…”

“I know I was rough on you at the start. You might be his name but you still could've been a bastard, ya know? Most people we've met since being here have deserved a slap in one way or another. Or a bullet in the back.” Mac scoffed at their long forgotten promise. He handed him a cigarette which he lit quickly, “But I've seen what you've done for him, Mac. You've brought him out of his darkness a little. I know he's stubborn, quiet, fragile , and a bloody know-it-all, but he wouldn't ever want you to hurt. That's why he didn't tell you. You've had enough pain and he wants you to heal.”

“What about him though?” 

Sitting here with the older man and talking with him like this felt so strange. Like a father talking to a son who'd just had their first argument with a girlfriend. Would he talk to Duncan like this about his name in a few years? Would Xan?

“He is healing, Mac. You're already doing it just by being you, mouthy little shit that you are.” 
He nudged him with a lopsided grin, “You didn't know him before. Didn't see all that darkness bottled up inside. All that trauma. It slips out every now and then, I can still spot it, but you've helped him. I'll always be grateful to you for that.”

MacCready had seen it too. Seen it in his migraines and tense shoulders. He’d seen it when he goes so quiet you can’t hear him move. When he doesn't turn the page of a book for a long time. When he stares into nothingness for sometimes hours.

A big hand landed on his shoulder, “Don't take his choice here to heart. He's not done it to hurt you. He's done it to help, like a good doctor should.”

Mac could only nod and look back out into his own darkness.

He sat there for maybe an hour after Will had headed back inside and mulled over his words. 

Like a good doctor should.  

He still wasn't happy that he hadn't been told of the risk beforehand but he could understand why. Xan had been right. He wouldn't have let him take this risk had he known in advance. Doctor or not.

He hefted himself up and took one last look at the night before heading back indoors. He nodded at Will as he passed the man who was now sitting on the couch cleaning the barrel of his gun and humming a tune.

He slowly moved up the stairs. He'd apologise first. Just get it out of the way and try to explain himself. But, he wanted Xan to promise to not do something like this again without at least telling him first. Just a little warning would be nice.

He pushed the bedroom door open and saw Xan still sitting where he'd left him. He was holding his head in his hand and his leg was bouncing on the ball of his foot, “Luke,” He jumped and looked up at him, squinting in the low light. MacCready approached him and gently took Xan's head in his hands, brushing back the hair and rubbing gently at his temples, “I'm sorry for being angry and storming out.” 
Xan's hands found Mac’s and he leaned his head forward to rest against Mac's stomach, “But, please. Please, promise me that you won't do something like this without at least talking to me first. Please .” He kept up the gentle pressure to try and relieve what he knew was a migraine. Brought on by his darkness that Mac had wrapped around them when he’d stormed out instead of talking.

“..m’kay.” He mumbled.

“No. Promise me. I get why but I don't want to have to watch you do something like this without knowing about it first. Please, Lucas, I can't just sit back and lose you.”

There was a moment and then Xan mumbled “Promise” into the fabric of his shirt through the goddamned cloth wrapped around his face.

Satisfied, Mac kissed the top of his head and took off his boots and duster again before lying back down on his son's little bed. He carefully tucked him into his chest and took one more look at Xan. He stayed seated and looked down at him with those tired blue eyes.

***

Their little house, tucked into a quiet corner of Sanctuary, was alive with colourful decorations and confetti. Boxes and odd shapes were wrapped in multicoloured mismatched paper on their dining table and lively music was playing.

Children were screaming and laughing as they played in the living room. The music stopped and there was a brief silence before it started up again to more laughter.

He held the pitcher of mutfruit juice and carried it carefully into the room. Children were crowded around Will who had them dancing in little paper hats and they paused still as statues as the music stopped. It started again and they all started wiggling again. Duncan was at the front of the group with the biggest hat that had “birthday boy” written on it in familiar chicken-scratch handwriting.

Adults sat around watching the children's party; Piper was furiously scribbling in her notebook, Cait was showing off her bat to a girl, Danse and Deacon were animatedly discussing synths, Preston was sipping on a wine bottle, and Hancock was loaning his hat to a kid.

He placed the pitcher down and sat beside Lucas. His hand went to his knee as his partner said in his ear, “He really is perfect.”

He woke up to a gentle hand shaking his shoulder, “Rob, love, quick.” 

His eyes snapped open and he looked up at Xan whose eyes were crinkled at the edges with a smile. The bandanna and cloth were gone from his face and his hands were bare, “He's waking up.”

Mac sat up and looked at Duncan. A few bandages remained in some areas, but the ones from his face, neck, and hips were gone. The infusion line had been removed and his skin was less sallow and clammy. He watched his face, a few pock mark scars were present but he didn't care as he watched his eyelids flutter. 
He blinked them open, light blue-grey eyes bleary and sleepy. They shut again for a minute before they opened wide. His eyes moved around the room quickly before settling on MacCready and went impossibly wider before they began to water, his bottom lip quivered, his little chest heaved up and down rapidly, and a fat tear trickled down his temple and into his hair, “Dad?”

“Hey, brave little boy,” he wanted to scoop him up but looked to Xan first in question. At his nod, he pulled Duncan up and folded him into his lap. He held on as hard as he dared and buried his face in his boy's wild curls, “Hey, baby, I got you.” He rocked gently back and forth.

Tiny little fingers gripped his shirt as the boy began to wail, “Dad, don't go again!”

“Never again, Duncan. Never.”

Xan hovered nearby before he carefully tucked a finger beneath Duncan’s jaw where he held it for a moment, counting. He began to move away before Mac grabbed his hand and pulled him down into the hug too. They sat together whilst they waited for the boy to settle. The door had opened at one point, Val's face peeking in where she smiled brightly and quietly shut it again. Mac rocked the three of them and hushed his son, rubbing his back in slow gentle lines. Up and down. Up and down.

He felt Xan sag against him and tilted his head to look. He was completely asleep, pale lashes brushing the freckles on his perfect beautiful face. He kissed his temple and looked back at his son.

Duncan was watching with wide eyes, “Who's that, dad?” He whispered as well as a poorly almost five year old could.

“This is, Lucas. He made you all better.”

He shuffled the three of them back so he could rest against the wall. The door opened again and Val came in with a tray of food and drinking water. As she saw Xan curled up by his side she grinned and tapped her neck at Mac. Mac nodded and she almost squealed, her face lighting up as she rushed from the room once more.

Duncan still held on tight to his shirt as he stared at Xan, “Is he nice?”

Mac kissed his son's head for maybe the fiftieth time in the last few minutes, “He's the best.”

“Bester than you?” 

“Mhmm. Better than me. When you're feeling good, we're gonna go with him and our friends to where they live.”

Duncan shuffled a little and yawned, laying his head against Mac's chest. One little hand dropped into his lap, “Where's that?”

“A place with water and plants and animals, Dunc. Nice people and lots of other kids. They even have a pet dog.” He pulled Duncan more snuggly to him as he moved his legs to get more comfortable.

“An actual doggy?” He sounded so tired again but it sounded like natural tiredness. Not sickness dragging him down into murky confusion.

“Yeah. And there's comics and books. Music. A playground and food.” 

“...that sounds nice, dad.” his voice trailed off and his little exhausted body relaxed into his chest.

Mac didn't dare move. Didn't dare break this peace. He felt so light with the weight of them pressed against him. Their slow deep breaths mingled around him and their sleeping warmth spread through him like a soft blanket.

He remembered Lucas mentioning the name on Duncan and peeked at his back. Just over the back of his right hip was a small scrawl of Melody Took . He smiled and looked away as his thumb gently brushed over it.

He watched the beams of sunlight stretch across the room but it didn't feel like time was passing. He could hear his friends talking downstairs, sometimes getting excited and laughing. The deep gravel of Hancock travelled through the walls and Will's bark of humour and singing was almost loud enough to rattle the windows. He heard Danse telling a story but it was too muffled to hear the words, and Val and Steve would pitch in with their own.

He looked down at the most important people he knew and felt a tear slide down his face but didn't bother brushing it away. At some point, as he'd sat and basked in this light glow, Duncan’s hand had fallen from his lap and was cupped gently in Xan's. He could sit there forever and stare at those hands.

Holy fucking shit. I could die now and be happy.

***

They stayed on the farm for a few days so that Duncan could gain some strength before they tackled the journey back to Sanctuary.

Mac's eyes rarely left his son and he watched him eat, talk, and walk everywhere. 

In thanks for their hospitality, Xan and Will offered to build some turrets and defences for the farm and Duncan followed after them. If Xan stood up, so would Duncan. If Xan moved, so would Duncan. At one point, the brothers held one of Duncan's hands in each of theirs as they walked across the farm to another turret. They swung him between them both and his son's laughter filled the air and Mac thought his heart would burst. The little boy would hover at Xan's elbow as he spoke or worked, copying his serious expression or tone of voice, making Xan laugh. He'd sit with Xan as he read, dark curls pressing against pale blonde, and Xan would help him with the letters and words.

All his bandages were off now, belly slowly being filled by a strict diet set by his partner, and his little legs were less shaky as he followed Xan, yet again, to check on a fence that penned Brahmin nearby.

“Come on, little duck.” Xan would say and Mac would watch from the porch.

“Good thing you got there, brother.” Hancock rumbled and Mac nodded. He knew. His son was happy, getting healthier, he had a name , and they had Lucas.

In the evenings, Xan would pop antibiotics and wash them down with water and food. Mac would lift his shirt and check for any signs of a rash on his back, on his chest and hips, and along the back of his neck, “I'm fine, Robbie.”

“Not taking any chances.”

They curled up together with Duncan's bed pushed beside theirs. The little boy starfishes in his sleep but they keep him close anyway. Mac woke up in the night to Xan shuffling and opened one eye to see him laying a hand on the boy's chest and counting. Always counting. Mac buried his face between Xan's shoulder blades and gently kissed the skin there.

Xan rolled over and Mac could lay his cheek over his heartbeat as gentle fingers ran through his mess of curls. He fell back to sleep to the gentle massage.

He woke early on the day they planned to leave and looked over at Duncan's bed. It was empty. He checked on Xan and saw his son tucked into his partner's chest, both buried beneath blankets and snoring quietly. Duncan had his head resting on Xan's arm where it dangled a little off the edge of the bed and his knees pulled up to press against Xan's belly. Mac lay back down and lay his arm over both of them and pressed his chest against Xan's back. They should really get up and get ready to leave, he could hear the others shuffling around already, but a few more minutes couldn't hurt.

A quiet knock at the door roused him again and he lifted his head to see who was there. Will popped his head in, pausing a second to look at Xan and Duncan with a smirk, before mouthing at Mac, “ Let's go.” He disappeared back behind the door and Mac sighed.

Fine.

He kissed along Xan's shoulder and ran a hand up his side. The man squirmed and huffed unhappily, “I know. We gotta get up.” He grumbled but kept his eyes shut.

“Mhmm. Gotta get home, Luke.” Xan made no motion of moving except to pull Duncan closer to him and frowning, “C’mon, or he'll send Hancock in next.”

The frown deepened as Mac moved away, leaving Xan's back exposed to the cooler air of the bedroom, “Okay..” he mumbled as Mac stood and pulled on his shirt and boots. He rolled his eyes as both Xan and Duncan shuffled further beneath the blanket with eyes closed and relaxed sleeping faces. He approached the bed and yanked the blankets away.
Xan rolled onto his back with a groan and stretched languidly, bare chest rippling with wiry muscle. Fuck. If his son wasn't right there , Mac would've licked a stripe up it. It has been ages since that one time in the Red Rocket.

Instead, he scooped his son up and rested him against his shoulder, “C’mon, sleepy head, gotta wake up.”

“No, dad.” He buried his face in his dad's neck.

“Yeah, bud. Want breakfast don't you?”

Xan was sitting up now and rubbing the sand out of his eyes. He found his shirt and pulled it grumpily over his head before blinking up at him, “I was so cosy.”

“We can be cosy at home.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolled his eyes as he stood and yanked on his boots, “fucking miles away.”

Duncan’s head snapped up, his mouth open in shock, “He did a swear, dad!”

“You're right, he did. And he'll be punished for it.”

Xan pulled on his jacket and grabbed the bags they'd packed the night before, “Promises, promises.”

Mac's face flushed as he followed him out the room.

***

Long goodbyes later and the promise of many letters, they were travelling back through Catskull. 

Bone payment paid, Duncan was tucked in Danse's arms after it was decided the huge man in Power Armour would deter most people who may want to approach the boy. Mac walked close by his side eyes looking at his son out the corner of his eye every now and then with Hancock swaggering slightly ahead with a knife casually flipping between his fingers.

Will and Xan lingered behind them all. They passed the dirty clinic and the shitty trader who had called out Mac the other day.

“Xan, fancy getting a discount?” 

Will jerked his chin in the traders direction and Xan nodded with a smirk. They let their friends move a bit further ahead and then approached the little stall. Dev looked at them nervously as he recognised the big man who had casually threatened him those few days ago. Will smiled with a friendly open face, “Hey, friend, let's trade.”

“Uh, sure. What you after?”

Will had the man distracted with idle chatter so Xan let his eyes roam over what was available. Ammo, a few Stimpaks, cigarettes, ratty clothing. It seemed the guy ran a “anything for everything” type deal so his wares were mixed and mashed together.

They could always do with ammo and Stimpaks though.

Will had the man looking over his nice semi-auto rifle and Dev was bartering what it was worth, eyes glued to the sleek black weapon. Will wouldn't actually sell it though. He was just the decoy.
Xan took a breath and started a slow wander around the space, umming and ahhing as though he were deciding what to buy. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that their group had paused in the street. Mac's eyes were on him.

He wanted to show off for him. He kept his face in his usual neutral-contempt and his nimble fingers slipped some .308 ammo into his armour. Then some .44, a knife, fusion core, a few Stimpaks, shells, cigarettes, bobby pins, and a little toy race car. 

He pilfered Dev’s pistol from his desk and turned to the proprietor, face a picture of youthful wonder, “Excuse me, sir, how much for this?” Xan would be damned if he didn't get this fuckers caps too.

“Seventy five.”

“C’mon, I know you can do better than that.” Will was watching him with a relaxed neutral face.

“Ninety.”

“No, please,” Xan laid the man's own pistol onto the desk, “this baby is worth at least one fifty. Modded it myself. It fires incendiaries.”

Dev rubbed his chin, “Oh, aye? And what expertise do you have to be doing that, kid?”

Xan smiled his brightest smile and made the effort to look as innocent and young as possible. Dev leered with his toothless smile and Xan ignored the gross feeling crawling down his back. He pulled out his own gun and disregarded the distraction of Will signalling their friends to stay put, “Mr. See this? Made it myself, didn't I dad?” He looked up at Will with a pout and innocent eyes and Will nodded with a serious face. It was a game they'd played many times before when they were finding their feet in the Commonwealth.

“Well, kid, sure does look like you know what you're doing.” Dev picked up his own gun as though he'd never seen it before, “Tell you what, one twenty five and I'll throw in some gumdrops. How's that sound?”

Xan accepted, “Thanks, Mr.” The caps and sweets were pushed to him and he pocketed them.

Then, he dropped the façade and glared at Dev as Will pulled him away. Dev's eyes widened and he looked at the pistol again, turning it over as they quickly joined their family.

“What was that about?” Mac whispered.

“Show you when we get out of town and settle somewhere.” He whispered back with a smile.

They settled as evening approached in a little shack. It was more of a shed and cramped and Will was moaning that they hadn't made it back to the nice cabin on the lake. Hancock was soothing him by promising they'll stop there tomorrow and Xan emptied out his armour of pilfered goodies.

He handed the ammo out to the people who could use it most, chucked the stolen caps to Will and then turned to Duncan who was nodding off on a bedroll.

“Here, duck.” He said and handed him the race car. Duncan smiled sleepily at him and tucked the car into his blankets with a happy hum, shutting his eyes to the feeling of Xan brushing his hair back. He sat close to Mac then and leaned against him, “Me and Will weren't happy with that guy so took his profit. Will wanted to shoot him but we figured that'd make it difficult to leave town.”

“Ha. You sold the guy his own gun.”

“I know, stupid fucker too interested in caps and being a creep to realise when he's being fleeced.” 

Xan stretched and lay down. It was crowded and they were all kind of lying beside each other in a loose huddle.

Will took first watch as always and Xan fell asleep tucked against Mac and with Duncan's little face beside him.

***

He was being pressed down. A weight on his back and legs and his chest pressing into the bedroll beneath him. Was he tied down? He couldn't see! It's dark and too warm and they're on him. Winlock breathed in his ear and he struggled out from his grasp with a cry. His elbow flew out behind him and met Winlock's face with a satisfying crack and he sat up, forcing his back against the wooden wall with the names.

His hands flew to his mouth. Xan was looking up at him with wide eyes and rubbing his jaw, Duncan starfished against him. They'd been crowded together and Xan must've been slightly on top of him to get some space from the little boy.
Hancock was sitting up with his mouth open as though he couldn't believe what had just happened.

I hit him.

Xan stood and motioned for him to follow, still rubbing his jaw that was slowly turning blue.

Fuck.

He followed him outside. Xan shook his head as Will approached and led the way around the side of the little shack. In the illusion of privacy, Xan whirled on him. Mac shivered in the cool air. His partner's face was upset but not angry, his jaw bruised, “Rob -”

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.” He cringed away from that bruise.

Xan held his hands up as though he were calming a frightened animal, “I know, love. I know.” 
Mac raised his hands to cup his jaw, he didn't flinch away but winced with a small ow noise, “I think we need to try something else.”

I hit him.

Mac felt that familiar pit in his chest open up, “What do you mean?”

There, face shadowed by the night, Xan looked at him with worry and sadness, “I know you're struggling and I understand the why of it. But, we can't go through life on this one way street. I need to be able to touch you.”

“You do touch me.” It came out pleading. Panic still bubbling beneath his still crawling skin.

“Let me finish, love.” He took a step closer and Mac leaned against the wall, “I need to be able to hold you properly, more than hands or a shoulder or a quick hug.” He took another step forward, slotting himself between his legs, “I have an idea but it's going to be tough on you.”

Mac let the back of his head thump against the wall. He couldn't look at him or the little bruise now spreading slightly up his cheek, “I don't know how, Luke.” 

I fucking hit him.  

He felt sick.

“I know , Robert.” He felt small hands rest on his hips and he forced himself not to flinch. He was fine . It was just him and Xan and the night. Xan wouldn't hurt him. Not like he'd hurt him. Fuck , “It's called exposure therapy.”

“What's that?”

Xan's hands were now on his waist and holding him gently, “Well, I'm not a therapist, but I can tell you what I had to do for mine after Will got me into therapy?” 

Mac nodded so Xan, still carefully holding him and standing between his legs and pressing lightly against him, continued talking softly, “I was scared of so much. Cars, noise, fire, being alone in a room for too long. People. Will did his best but my migraines were constant and there's only so many drugs you can give a kid to dull pain.”
His hands moved down back to Mac's hips and Xan rested his head onto Mac's shoulder, “My therapist created an environment where I could face those fears safely. She'd sit in a car with me a few times before she actually drove it and I was allowed to panic before my mind realised that I was okay.”

“Did it work?”

“Yes. Took a while and it was hard but it did work. I can sit by fire now, or be surrounded by noisy people and not fall apart, and I actually enjoy being alone a lot now. Maybe too much.” His thumbs were soothing a circle into his hip bones, “Do you think you want to try?”

“How?” Judging by his reaction when he'd woken up feeling trapped, he didn't know how to start. 

Maybe start by not fucking hitting your partner. Idiot. 

He shook the thought out of his head. It wasn’t helpful

“You're already doing it, Rob.” 

He placed a kiss on his cheek. Mac registered suddenly the way they were standing. Him pressed carefully against the wall, Xan between his legs and lightly leaning on his chest with hands holding him like fragile glass. He didn't feel the intensity of being held down with something solid behind him and when he could see a way out. When he knew he could escape if he wanted to, “We'll work our way up. You might panic sometimes but it might help in the long run to let it happen.”

He nodded, “I'll try.”

“That's all I'm asking.” He stepped away then, leaving a cold space there, and brushed his thumb against the bruise on his face, “Let's get this Stimpacked before Duncan sees.”

***

They stayed in the big cabin on Copake Lake like Hancock had promised Will. They were moving through the wastes slower now rather than the speed they had travelled to Catskull to give Duncan enough time to rest. The boy was still a little weak and got tired so easily. The adults around him would take it in turns carrying him and chatting with him whilst the others kept sharp eyes on the road and their surroundings. Their precious cargo added to the pressure in Mac's chest at the knowledge of what he was about to do.

In the abandoned cabin, Duncan under watch of Danse, Xan and Mac excused themselves to begin his “therapy” . 

Xan shut the door behind them and pinned up a dusty sheet over the open window in the same smallish room they had claimed on the journey to Catskull. Xan lit a candle and turned to face him.

“Sit down, Rob.” 
He did as he was told, breathing as calmly as possible. The room was small but bigger than the shack, and it was lit nicely and soothingly. It was just him and Lucas, “Okay. I want you to try and hold in your head the knowledge that you're allowed to panic. Allowed to feel the pain and struggle and rage. But, try to also remember that it's just me here with you and I'll never hurt you.”

He nodded, willing to try for him. Xan approached where he sat and stood in front of him and held his hand out. Mac twined their fingers together and Xan placed his other hand on his shoulder, “It's just me and you, love, just breathe and let yourself go through it.” 

He bent his head and kissed his hair. The hand on his shoulder moved up to cup his jaw, fingers gently tracing patterns, before slowly moving to the side of his neck. Mac squeezed the fingers wrapped in his and shut his eyes. Another kiss to his head and the fingers were tracing lightly over the base of his skull and playing with the hair there. 

Xan brought his mouth to his and he melted into the kiss. Mouth open and tongues sliding together. He could taste the smoke on his tongue and smell the dust in his hair from outside. He was fine like this. Gentle and calm.
The hand holding onto the back of his head moved and applied a little pressure to his neck and brought his face closer. Mac squeezed the fingers in his hands hard. Xan whispered into his mouth, “It's just me, Robbie. It's okay. Let it happen.”

The panic was building and his eyes flew open. Xan's face was right there, watching him carefully, mouth barely an inch from him. The hand pressed on his neck as their mouths pressed together again and he squirmed.

It was crawling over him. Claws and teeth and hands pulling at his skin and dragging him down. Holding him and restraining with ragged breaths and dark laughter in his ears.

He wanted to shuffle back and press his back against the wall but Xan held him firmly, ice blue eyes concentrating on his reactions. He untangled his fingers from Mac's and laid that hand on his shoulder, pressing on it firmly before also bringing it to the back of his neck. 
Mac suddenly couldn't breathe and his vision was blurring at the edges. Xan brought their foreheads together, “Go through it, Robert.”

His own hands flew up to Xan's arms and tried to pull away. He needed to escape. Needed to be away from the pressure restraining him. He strained against the hands on his neck.

Winlock was strangling him and Barnes was pushing his legs apart. The pain and tension between his legs and on his chest made him heave. His hair was being pulled, arms and legs tied so he couldn't fight back.

We'll fuck him and gut him and make you watch.

Read his fucking name you little whore.

Scream, MacCready, scream.

He screamed, “Let go! Let go!”

The hands released him and he shoved away, back flat against the wall and eyes squeezed shut. It was silent around him as he twisted his hands in the dusty sheets beneath him.

A gentle cool hand brushed through his sweaty hair and the voice of his name filtered through the lingering panic, “You did really well, love. Relax and breathe. Do you want to tell me where you went?” 

He heard the click of a lighter and the familiar smell of the cigarettes they shared filled his nose. He opened his eyes and Xan was sitting in front of him, cig hanging from his mouth. His perfect lightly freckled face was waiting patiently.

Lucas won't hurt me.

“I…I was back in that place . Winlock and Barnes were on me, saying things, touching…” he accepted the cig and let the burn of the smoke ground him.

Xan nodded, “They're dead, sweetheart.” He rested his hand gently on his knee, “We killed them. Remember?” 

“You stabbed Winlock in the neck with your scalpel. I shot Barnes in the head.”

“And, you burnt that place down.”

“Yeah, I burnt it down.” He felt a little better. His brain filtered through the facts of that day. He shied away from thinking about the hurt, the scar on Xan's ribs a constant reminder, and focused on the revenge. The Minutemen had come and Xan had stabbed Winlock over and over. And, Barnes, one handed and crippled in the leg, had died from a shot of his rifle.

Xan shuffled to sit beside him, “How're you feeling now?” He lay his head on his shoulder and Mac rested on his pale hair.

“Better.”

“It's okay not to be.”

That night, after he'd checked Xan for the rash to grumbled complaints of I’m fine , he lay awake and practiced letting Xan rest his head on his chest before rolling and pulling Xan against him. He'd get better. Be better. For him.

He woke up to a small weight curled against his side and gently wrapped his arm over his son. His other arm reached out for Xan but found the space beside him empty.

He sat up and looked around the small room and had a brief worry as Xan was nowhere to be seen. It was still dark out and the cabin was quiet. Who was on watch? Has something happened? 

He heard rushed voices filtering in through the window from outside and stood, grabbed his rifle and peeked out from behind the sheet used as a curtain.

“Will, for God's sake , I was just going for a piss.” 

Xan and Will came into view and Mac put his rifle back against the wall.

“Yeah? Where's Mac?”

“Asleep! God, I can piss on my own, you know. I'm not gonna wake him because I have to step outside for two minutes…” Xan was dwarfed by his brother as Will loomed over him.

“It was more than two minutes. What were you doing?”

“Just…standing. God, I knew you were nearby, Will, and nothing is around.” His arms were crossed over his chest as he scowled up at Will.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Mac saw Will's hands twitch.

“Tell you what? That I needed to piss?”

“No.” Those big hands reached out and touched Xan's arms. The smaller brother let go of his own chest and let their hands link together, “About…the bruises. Why did Mac have to tell me?” Xan frowned and shrugged, “Lucas…why?”

“I don't know…I just didn't. Would it have made a difference?”

“Yes! Fuck, of course it would've made a difference.”

“You were stressed and…angry, when we first got here.”

“So?” Mac thought that Will was still stressed and angry.

“I didn't want to add more to it. I already had to come everywhere with you. I've had worse than your little bruises, Will.” 
Xan let go of Will's hands and sat down in the grass, quickly followed by his brother, “What would you have done? In Hagen. Not grabbed me?”

“What you mean?”

“When that synth got close to braining me, you grabbed and dragged me over the ground before it could. I had some pretty big bruises from that but my brain wasn't spattered on the ground.”

“Oh.”

“Or when that raider aimed a fucking rocket launcher at me and you tackled me to the ground?”

“Jesus. Those first few months were messed up.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, glad I hired Mac then. Now he gets to tackle you to the ground instead…” Will looped an arm over Xan's shoulder and Mac grinned.

“...yeah.” Will's arm tightened around Xan's neck and Mac's grin became a frown, “William. No.” 
Mac's fingers twitched to his rifle as that arm tightened further and his other hand came up to head, “Ow, Will! Stop!” 

He was rubbing his fist into the top of Xan's head.

“Break free and I'll stop.” He said it with a laugh as Xan started squirming with angry growls. A game. He stopped his hand reaching for his gun, “Break free, Xan.”

He wiggled and grabbed at the arm around his neck before simply biting it. Will jerked his arm away, “Ow, you little bitch.” 

Xan rushed to his feet and started running, Will hot on his heels laughing before they were out of sight around the side of the building. 

Mac climbed back into bed and pulled Duncan close again with a grin.

***

One slow slow week later and Will didn't think he'd seen anything more glorious than the swamps that stretched along the southern edge of the Commonwealth. They were all exhausted and he carefully lifted Duncan onto his shoulders so the lad didn't get wet in the irradiated water.

He liked the boy. He was funny and cute and followed Lucas around like a little duckling following its mother. Speaking of which, he sidled up to Mac's side, “So, Mac.”

The mercenary's eyes were flicking everywhere in front of them and probably would do until they were north of Quincy, “Hmm?”

“You, Duncan, and Xan?”

“...yeah?” He looked through his binoculars, only half listening to Will.

“Moving up to Sanctuary?”

“Yeah, boss.” He was following Danse with a frown as the Power Armour splashed the water. Rolling his eyes at the lack of stealth from the Paladin.

“It gonna be MacCready-Rake or Rake-MacCready?” Will held back his laugh, fingers drumming a little pattern on the boy's knee who was pretending to fly his car through the air, as Mac stumbled in the swampy water and fought to gain his balance.

“Wh-what?” His face was flaming red and he quickly looked to Xan who was animatedly chatting with Hancock and practicing knife work with him.

Will shrugged with a little extra exaggeration just to make Duncan laugh, “Just wondering.”

His eyes hardened and a muscle twitched in his jaw, “What about you?”

“Hancock-Rake, obviously.” He hadn't actually discussed anything of the sort with Hancock but he just liked winding MacCready up. He bent his face closer to the Merc and whispered, “Does Duncan know?” Mac looked up at his son who was trying to reach for Hancock’s hat. He looked a bit concerned for a moment and his mouth fell open a little, “Oh, shit. Haven't you talked to him?”

“Fu- hell, I didn't even think about it. I just told him we were moving here with you and Lucas.”

“Oof, buddy. Maybe need to fix that, eh?”

He deflated, “...yeah. Frick.”

They reached Jamaica Plain that evening, pushing past the sunset to get out of the swamps. He handed Duncan over to Mac and found his Ghoul. He waited for him to finish coming down off a hit of Jet before he said, “Fancy seeing you here, Mr. Hancock-Rake.

Hancock looked at him with wide eyes, almost stunned, “I beg your pardon.” 

Will laughed and wrapped an arm around Hancock's hips and kissed him briefly, smiling down at him.

***

They were nearly at Starlight. Duncan had been walking in some grass and looking at a herd of Radstag in wonder when the first shot rang out.

Their weapons were out in less than a second and a little muffled oof sounded behind him as Xan tackled Duncan to the ground and covered his body with his own, hovering over the small boy and whispering something in his ear.
Mac stood in front of both of them with his rifle raised, scope flashing as he searched for their enemies.

Danse charged toward a group of raiders with Hancock close behind him. Will pulled out his semi-auto and let the music of battle wash over him. Hancock’s shotgun sounded and he ran toward the fight with reckless abandon, the sounds of whistling bullets his tempo and the screams of pain his bass. He'd been a soldier the majority of his life and fighting was now a sweet lullaby. Soothing and calm.

One down, two down, three, four, five. Danse hefted one up by the neck and his head exploded with a bullet from MacCready. Blood rained and he danced in it.

“...push shove a little bruised and battered. Oh, Lord, I ain’t coming home with you…”

Hancock was beating the butt of his gun into a raider's face over and over again. Thud thud thud. His gun rattled through him and tore through the guts of another. Crack-crack-crack-crack. Another raider went down with a bullet through the eye from MacCready with a satisfying fwip . 

“My life’s a bit more colder, dead wife is what I told her.
Brass knife sinks into my shoulder,
Oh Babe dunno what I’m gonna do…”

The rhythm flowed around him until he heard a scream.

“Dad!”

He spun on his heel and saw MacCready on one knee, rifle tumbling from his grasp. He turned back to the fight. Xan would deal with him. There were only a few left now.

Another bullet came from behind him and took out the arm of a raider who had had a bat raised ready to collide with his head. He pressed his gun in the raiders mouth and pulled the trigger, blowing out the back of his skull.

“It didn’t hurt, flirt, blood squirt,
stuffed shirt, hang me on a tree,
In Hell I’ll be in good company…”

He looked over his shoulder. Xan had his pistol out, taking careful aim with shaking blood stained hands. One knee was pressing into MacCready's stomach, just below his ribs, where his shirt was stained with dark thick blood.
Mac's hands were weakly trying to push the knee off of him but Xan held firm. His mouth pulled down into a grim frown. Duncan was hiding behind Xan, small fingers gripping his armour straps. He needed help with Mac's wound.

“In Hell I’ll be in good company…” He stopped and shouted, “Hancock! Wrap it up!” 

He saw his lover take a hit of some kind of chem and begin to move with inhuman speed backed up by the hulking Power Armour of Danse. The last of the raiders began to scatter and Will picked them off as they ran.

Once all were dead, he ran to Xan, “Tip my bag out, Will.” He said it calmly, in doctor mode, as he lifted Mac's shirt. Will did as he was told and had just finished emptying it when Danse and Hancock approached, “Danse, take Duncan.”

Danse scooped the boy up into his bloodied Power Armour as he wailed for his dad. Danse hushed him gently and walked him a few steps away toward a nearby copse of trees. Xan's blood stained hands, red wet knee still on Mac's stomach, sorted through his supplies. Hancock knelt beside him and helped as he pointed things out. Then, Xan said to Mac, “This is going to hurt, Mac. The bullet hasn't gone all the way through and I need to get it out before I stitch and Stimpak. Will, do you have any Med-X?” Will shook his head, “Okay, you're gonna have to hold him down.”

Will quickly put his hands on Mac's shoulders and restrained him. He saw the panic flicker over his rapidly paling face, “Mac! It's okay. You're gonna be okay.” He tried to stem off the panic attack before it had a chance to begin. He'd heard his shouts in the evenings as they worked on it, saw the bruise he'd given Xan. He knew what panic and PTSD did to someone. War never changes.

“Hancock, hands,” Hancock held his hands out to Xan and he poured straight vodka over them, “You need to hold open the wound so I can get in.”

“Got it, brother.” 

Will watched as his brother directed Hancock where to pull and felt Mac try to scream as the bleeding wound was pulled open, the skin around the bullet hole tearing slightly. There was so much blood. 

“Hey, Mac,” he bent and spoke into his ear, “What's the first thing you're gonna do when we get home?” 
Mac didn't answer as he writhed under him trying to escape the probing and restraining hands. 

Gonna kill every last fucking Gunner I swear to God .

“I reckon I'm gonna get some fresh bread and stew and sleep for about four years. Can you believe what we've done the past few weeks, hmm? Got your boy all safe and sound.” 

Xan had cleaned his own hands now and double checked his Stimpaks, needle and thread, and bandages. He nodded at Hancock and made a motion with his finger open a bit wider. Hancock pulled further and Mac's legs started kicking.

“I got a little house sorted for you guys, ya know? Asked the engineers to build it while we were gone. It's just behind mine so that it's quiet for Lucas.”

Mac's face was turning green around the edges and he nudged it to the side with his chin so that he wouldn't fill his mouth and choke if he threw up. He felt him shudder and then he screamed when Xan's fingers dove into his stomach. He pressed down on his shoulders and watched Hancock lay one of his thighs over Mac's legs, twisting to keep the wound open for Xan.

“Mac! It's nearly over. Couple more minutes and I'll fill you with so much whiskey you won't even remember this happened.”

Xan dug and dug and then, finally, he started pulling his fingers out of his partner. He yanked, hands so red, and pulled the lodged bullet free. Hancock removed his hands and sat up more fully on Mac's legs.

“Worst of it is over now, Mac. You're doing great. That one was in such a shit spot, eh?”

Xan poured alcohol and pure water over Mac's chest and stomach, rinsing the blood and dirt away from the still bleeding wound. The hiss of two Stimpaks being injected into his belly and the instant pain relief settled Mac somewhat. The bleeding slowed and Xan bowed his head as his quick hands began stitching. The thread snapped and he pressed a clean bandage there before wrapping it around him, hand wriggling under his back and pulling it tight before tying it off.

“There we go. All over now. Rest, Mac.” 

He and Hancock moved away as Xan came to Mac's face, fingers gently brushing the hair off his face and checking his pulse and whispering into his ear. They joined Danse and the crying Duncan under the trees.

***

He was so groggy when he woke up. His limbs felt heavy and his brain felt like it was melting. Med-X.

A weight on the hollow of his shoulder had him looking through heavy eyelids at the curly head of his sleeping son. He pressed his face against his hair. He smelled clean, like he'd had a bath, and his clothes were fresh. He had a little chest piece and light leather arm bracers on, obviously cut and changed to fit him.

A white sheet surrounded them, hung from the roof on a rail. The walls were metal and clean. A clinic. But where?

Oh, yeah. I'd been shot.

He let his hand find the wound to his stomach and was relieved to find it was covered by one of Xan's clean bandages. His shirt was missing but his scarf was still in place. Then, he heard a low argument happening just beyond the curtain.

“No, you can't go in.” Xan's light voice had a layer of ice to it. He could imagine his face; contempt, boredom, complete angry neutrality.

“Xander, sir, I just need to get something from the cabinet.” A gruff voice that he didn't recognise replied.

“Tell me what you need and I'll get it.”

“I can get it myself and I'll check on the patient for you too. Sit down for a bit, you've been working for ten hours straight.”

“No, they're my partner and my boy. I'll check on them myself.” My boy. Mac couldn't help the small smile at that.

A sigh came from the man he was arguing with, “You're too close to this one. You need a second opinion on him.”

Xan laughed, “A second opinion? Please. I know he'll be fine.”

“Arrogance is a poor trait in a doctor, Xander.” 

“Oh, fuck off, Paul. He's going to be fine. I stopped the bleeding and…” Heavy steps took the argument out of earshot and Mac felt a little surge of relief. He wanted a few more moments of quiet.

“He did another swear, dad.” Mac jumped a little at Duncan's voice but quickly covered it with a kiss to his head. No quiet then, but he'd make an exception for Duncan.

“Sure did, buddy, but I think we can forgive him that one.”

“He was watching you sleep a lot. He held your hand and read me a story.” Duncan sat up, criss-crossed legs beneath him on the narrow cot, and looked down at his father, “And then he took your bandages off and put new ones on and told me that he made you all better like he did me. Is he really a doctor?” His eyebrows were raised as though he didn't really believe it.

“The best doctor I know, bud.”

“He's really nice. I want to be a doctor like him when I'm bigger. Will he teach me? When we get to his house?” Duncan was showing off the book Xan had been reading to him.

Mac took a deep breath, “When we get to our house, Dunc.”

He frowned. Little mouth pouting out a little, “Oh. Will Lucas be our neighbour? Like Hancock and Will and Danse?” 

Mac laughed but the pain in his stomach stopped him, “No. It's our house. You, me, and Lucas all together.”

“Will I have my own room? And you have one and Lucas have one?” 

“You'll have your own room.” He held his son's hand, “Lucas and I will be sharing a room.” He waited for his son to get the point but four-nearly-five year olds needed more context it seemed.

“Are you and Lucas best friends? You cuddle a lot. Will I have a best friend at Sanctuary?”

“You'll have so many friends, baby. Me and Lucas are more than best friends.” He still didn't get it and he sighed, “Me and Lucas are like what Aunt Val and Uncle Steve are together.”

“Like, kissing and holding hands?” His eyes were wide, “I saw Will kiss Hancock. They kiss a lot.”

“Yeah, like kissing and stuff.”

“Like what a mummy and daddy do?”

“Yeah, bud.”

Duncan looked down at the book and chewed his lip, “Lucas isn't my mummy. You told me mummy died when I was a baby and that she had brown hair and brown eyes. Lucas has white hair and blue eyes, dad.”

“Lucas isn't your mummy, no. But, he's very special to me. You know you're my favourite little person?”

“Yeah. I'm your best boy. You told me.”

“Well, Lucas is my favourite grown up person.”

“Dad?”

“Yeah, bud.”

“Is Lucas your boyfriend?” Mac's eyes widened as he looked at his son's serious face. He could've just said that from the start, “Do I have to call him dad, too?”

“Um, only if you want to and if Lucas says it's okay.” Duncan was playing with Mac's hands, lining their fingers up and comparing sizes.

“Are you gonna marry Lucas? Like Aunty Val and Uncle Steve?” Mac couldn't answer that in that moment so Duncan plowed on, “I like Lucas, dad. Did you know that he can make guns? He showed me. And he made me armour. And he can count to one hundred! He knows all of the big words in books and he told me he has crayons and colouring books I can have. He made me have a bath and brush my teeth! And Will is his big brother , dad. Will I be a big brother? Will you and Lucas have a baby? Hancock said that there's Brahmin at Sanctuary and I can pet them! And Danse said when I'm bigger I can have Power Armour too. But I don't think I'll need it if I'm a doctor like Lucas. There's a school too, dad -”

The white curtain pulled open and Xan's face peeked around it with a tired smile. He met Mac's eyes first before looking at Duncan, “Hey, little duck, Will asked if you wanna help him train the new recruits?”

Duncan smiled and gave Mac a hug goodbye. As his face was close to his ear, his little boy whispered, “He calls me a little duck, dad.”

“I know, buddy.” Mac pat Duncan's back and watched him leave behind the curtain, Xan ruffling his hair as he passed.

“Hey, how're you feeling?”

“Oh, just great, can barely feel the hole in my guts,” they held each other's hands, “how long was I out?”

“Fifteen hours thirty nine minutes.” Xan looked a bit embarrassed that he knew it down to the minute but it just made Mac happy, “You'd lost a lot of blood and we dosed you up on a fuck-tonne of Med-X and blood packs when we got here.”

“Where is here?” He pulled Xan down onto the cot with him, the blonde being so careful as he tucked himself in by his side.

“Mmm,” he sighed, “...Starlight.”

Mac felt Xan's whole body relax at once, “When was the last time you slept, Luke?”

“... Jamaica Plain. I didn't want…” he yawned and his eyes shut, “anyone else to touch you.”

He smoothed a hand down his Soulmate's back and hummed. Xan fell asleep within moments and he held him tight to keep him close. 

He remembered the gunfight. Xan shielding his son on instinct and then his serious face over him as he shot his gun at the same time as he stopped him bleeding out. The whole time he'd kept Duncan safe and saved his life. 

Lucas told him every day that he loved him. Without fail. He decided that, when Lucas woke up, he'd tell him how much he loved him back. 

***

Red Rocket was still guarded by turrets and Xan decided they'd go inside to make sure all the stuff he wanted had been transferred out to Sanctuary.

Danse took Duncan to the outdoor fire pit and gave him some food as Will and Hancock disappeared into the old little office space together. Mac didn't want to know what they were doing in there and followed Xan to help him collect anything he'd want to keep.

One of the workbenches was gone. All the books and magazines were gone. Their rugs, their blankets and hides missing off the bed, drawers were empty, Xan and Will's collection of bobble-heads and model robots. It felt weird knowing that someone else had come and moved their things. Mac tended to carry all his armour and weapons with him but checked the little spot he'd claimed to put his stuff that he couldn't take around all the time. It had just been his old rifle, a pack of letters from Duncan, a spare pair of gloves and the like. All gone. 

“They were very…uh…thorough.” Xan had a blush high on his cheeks.

“Yeah. You okay?” He was leaning against a wall by the bed reaching behind the bedside table with a grunt.

“Yeah, I would've just liked to keep some things private, ya know?” He pulled his arm out of the space between the bedside table and wall, holding a wad of paper, “Knew they wouldn't have found this.”

Mac approached, “What is it?”

“It's stupid. I did it when I was feeling grim and shitty when we first got here. I was writing and drawing things that I remembered from before…” he opened the paper. Xan wasn't the best at drawing, unless it was some kind of technical thing, but Mac got what most things were meant to be.

Some food stuffs that Xan clearly missed, people running after a round ball thing on a field, a television with something on it, a room filled with people with so many colours in the air, a cigarette that didn't look like a normal cig, lyrics of songs that Mac didn't know, “You know, I don't really miss a lot of this stuff anymore. Though, I still could destroy a burger if one magically appeared.”

“Who’s that?” Mac pointed to a woman with long white hair and a man in a green uniform. He almost looked like a Gunner but cleaner and had neat black hair. More effort had clearly been put into this little scribbling drawing.

“My mum and dad.” He brushed the woman's face with a finger, “I used to have a photograph of them but I think the bombs took it out, or it was looted from our house like a lot of other stuff.”

“Do you look like your mum?” Mac couldn't remember his mother or father. He just knew they were called MacCready like he was.

“We got her hair and skin. Our dads eyes. I think, as I get older I look more like her than Will does? He's got a fatter head than I do, like dad. We're named after them.” He smiled up at Mac.

“What were they called?”

"Lucia and William Rake. I think she woulda liked you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he put the paper in his bag, “what's not to like?”

He could think of about fifty things off the top of his head that were off putting about himself. He saw Xan wince and pinch the bridge of his nose, “We can stay here if you want?”

“No, it's better for Duncan in Sanctuary. I can handle it, Rob.” 
He hefted his bag back onto his shoulders, hand trailing over the bed they'd shared for a few weeks together. The image of Xan, naked and writhing in his lap and skin glowing in the firelight, flickered through his mind and he wanted to push him down onto the mattress. It had been so long with only a few kisses since then, “Besides, Will had a house built for us.”

“Yeah…” Xan was watching his eyes flicker over the bed.

“Don't worry, love. We can christen our new room later.” Mac felt the flush rise in his cheeks, “You promised to punish me for swearing, didn't you?”

Fuck. His pants felt tight and his clothes too much, “...uh huh.” Xan kissed him, deep and with a little nip of his teeth.

“Better get going then, hadn't we?”

Mac carried Duncan up the road and over the bridge to Sanctuary. To their home . Will raised his hand and the gate creaked open. They filed through and were greeted by Preston and Mama Murphy.

“The child. He will carry the legacy into the bright sun.”

Mac tucked Duncan's head against his shoulder as Xan replied for them, “Uh, thanks Mama.”

“Welcome home, General.” Preston clapped hands with Will and Will smiled around at the settlement. The people, the clean streets, the animals, the children.

“Good to be home. Is the house ready?”

“Aye, just by the river behind yours, like you said.” Preston was smiling at them all and did a little wave at Duncan.

Will's other friends were slowly approaching, faces full of smiles and the clapping of shoulders and well dones and hey, Duncan! The little boy hid his face, overwhelmed by the sudden influx of friendly people. It had been over two weeks, nearly three, since they’d seen them and they were making up for their absence by quickly handing out beers and chatting as they started to walk.

Xan rolled his shoulders with a small wince and pat Duncan’s leg as the boy stayed hidden against his dads neck, “Thanks everyone, I think we'd better go get Duncan settled a bit.” 
He went to push past the crowd but was stopped by Nick, who had stepped in front of him, “Oh, hey Nick.” He looked up at the ravaged synthetic face.

Mac was torn, should he hand Duncan over and get between them? His little boy was clinging to his coat, desperately trying to hide.

He watched the mechanical skeletal hand of the synth lift to grab hold of Xan's arm as he mumbled something. Mac didn't have to approach because then Will was there, a friendly arm wrapping around Nick's shoulders, “Hey, Nick!” His voice had a little edge to it as he pulled the robot to walk with him down the street, “Any cases lately?”

Xan rolled his neck with squinted eyes and Mac followed him up the street toward Will and Hancock’s house. They passed under the old carport and through the back garden.

Then, they saw it. 

A well built wooden and metal one floor structure. A generator chugged nearby with a wire that led to the building and disappeared into the wood of the roof. String lights lit up the little porch and blue door. It was built partly on solid ground and partly over the river, a few sturdy supports disappearing into the merrily babbling water. It was pressed almost fully against the protective wall that surrounded Sanctuary and a few little trees dotted the space on the bank. On the wall, directly above the little house, was a turret that swept the area directly around them.

It was fantastic.

They pushed the door of their new home open. It was sparsely decorated for the moment. A few couches faced a low table and one of their rugs from the garage led the way around a separating wall into a kitchen/dining area.

Mac put Duncan down as he wriggled, “Wow, dad, is this ours?”

“Sure is, Dunc.” He didn't think he'd ever been happier. Xan was looking around. Fingers trailing along walls and looking at the light fixtures. His clever brain already ticking over improvements he could make. 
The skin around his eyes was still tight from what Mac knew was a pulling pain in his head, “Luke, sit down for a bit. We'll find Duncan's room.” Xan nodded and collapsed onto one of the dark fabric couches.

He led Duncan by the hand. They found a little bathroom, a cobbled together shower and bath, then they found Duncan's room.

A single clean bed with red sheets was pushed into one corner. A dresser that Mac peeked in to find a variety of clothes in all different sizes. A colourful rug and so many toys. Model robots that he knew were Xan's lined the dresser, more race cars and a few clean stitched together teddy bears.

“Is this all mine, dad?” He was turning around on the rug before he ran to a little collection of books and papers and colouring crayons.

“Yeah, Will and Lucas made sure you had everything you'd need. All yours.”

“I really like Lucas, even when he gets grumpy when his head hurts.”

“Me too. I'm gonna go check on him, okay?”

Duncan just nodded, completely absorbed in drawing coloured lines on paper. Mac left the door ajar so he could hear him and went back to their living room.

Lucas was still sprawled on the couch, one leg dangling over the edge, with his eyes shut and covered by his elbow. He nudged his leg, lifting it so he could sit and settled it back over his own lap.

“Duncan okay?” He whispered, mouth in a small frown against the pain in his head.

“Yeah, do you need a Stimpak or something?”

“No, it's easing now.”

“Want me to shoot Nick for you?”

“Ha. No. Will still needs him to help find Shaun. God, I feel like I could sleep for a week.”

They sat in silence as Xan dozed, legs draped over MacCready's thighs as he stroked a soothing path up and down his knee. 

His son was safe now. Healthy. He had his Soulmate by his side. He felt kind of listless. Adrift. Everything he had set out to do when he was sixteen was complete. He was settled and that traitorous part of his brain was waiting for the other foot to drop. 

He knew he'd step up to help Xan and Will find Shaun. He'd probably do anything for the brothers now. If only to pay back the life debts he felt lingering over his head.

There was a knock at the door and Mac stood to answer it, gently dropping Xan's legs on the couch. He opened the door to Will standing there holding up a box of hot food and supplies for their cupboards, “Hey! Everything good in here?”

Mac put a finger to his lip and looked over his shoulder at Xan. He was thankfully still sleeping, his brother's voice not setting off the alarm bells in his mind, “Yeah, we're all good. Thank you for this. Seriously. I don't know how to repay you.”

Will handed over the box with a shake of his head, “You have nothing to repay. You're one of ours, Mac. Family does this shit for each other, yeah?”

Family. A great sense of belonging washed over him, “Still, I like things to be square.”

“Tell you what, you look after Xan and your boy, and we'll call it all even.” He took a step back, ready to go back into Sanctuary proper, “Rest, settle in, and we'll see you three tomorrow.” He turned, white-blonde hair fluffing and sticking up in the wind.

“Bye…” He nudged the door shut with his hip and carried the box to their kitchen, placing it down on a top and leaning against the surface with both hands.
It didn't feel real. He kept expecting to wake up in Goodneighbor with the biggest hangover of his life. Like he'd got super high with Hancock and this was all some kind of crazy lucid dream.
He could hear the water of the river, the quiet chugging of the generator and turret, people way in the distance going about their day. The quiet snoring of Lucas.

He pinched himself and didn't wake up.

“Dad?” 

He jumped and spun to look down at his son. Curly hair like his own, blue-grey eyes, tiny little perfect scarred face, “Yeah, bud?”

“I'm hungry.”

He laughed and quickly started emptying out the box of food. There were a few warm containers in amongst the cans and fresh ingredients that he opened, “Want Radstag stew?” He opened another, “Or noodles?”

“Noodles!” His excited voice was loud and piercing.

“Hush, Dunc, Lucas is sleeping.” He sat his son at the little round table that had three chairs around it and gave him the noodles.

“Sorry. Is his head okay, dad? He holds it a lot.”

“He'll be okay. Sometimes big noises make it hurt, is all.” And stress. His mind reminded him but Duncan didn't need to know that. He sat opposite Duncan and watched him eat, feeling whole and warm.

“Is Lucas my dad too?” He asked around his full mouth.

Mac tapped the table with a finger. He'd asked this in the clinic too, “Do you want him to be?”

Duncan shrugged, “Maybe…he's not a mummy like other kids have.”

“No, he's not a mummy. You can ask him, if you'd like?”

He frowned, fingers twiddling with his fork, “What if he says no?” He said it in such a quiet nervous voice.

“Has this been bugging you for a while, Duncan?” His son nodded and Mac sighed. Duncan knew about his mum. Him and Lucy hadn't always got along but she was still his mother and he never lied to him when he asked about her, “I don't think Lucas will say no to you, baby. He wants you to be happy and safe just like I do.”

“He's asleep, dad.”

“Yeah, well, why don't you wait until he wakes up? Or ask tomorrow? It'll be bedtime soon anyways.”

“Will Lucas read me a story?” He got off his chair and came to stand in front of his dad whilst the man wiped noodle juice off his face.

“If he wakes up before bedtime, I'm sure he will. Now, why don't you go and play whilst I clean up this mess?”

“Okay…” he toddled off to his room and Mac quickly cleared the dirty food bowl and put the other items away. He was sure that Lucas would reorganise everything but it didn't feel right just leaving it all over the place in the meantime.

He found his cigarettes and quietly passed through the living room. Lucas was laying on his side now, arms cradling his head and curled up in a little ball. He grabbed a blanket that was draped over the other couch and put it over him before stepping outside and lighting a cig. He left the door open a little so he could hear if either Lucas or Duncan called for him and stood smoking for a long while just taking everything in. His mind wandered. Ticking over everything.  

A light turned on in Will and Hancock's house and he realised it was getting dark. He'd have to get Duncan to bed. He moved back inside and made his way to his son's room. The little boy pouted at being put in pajamas and tucked tight in his bed. He kissed his face and left him to fall asleep.
Everything felt so… domestic. All his focus was just on doing normal people things. Tidying a house, putting a kid to bed, watching their partner sleep. Normal life stuff.

He went to the living room and scooped Xan up. He grumbled and wrapped a loose arm around his shoulders, keeping his eyes shut and allowing himself to be moved, “you smell like bonfire” he mumbled against his neck and MacCready gave the top of his head a kiss. 

He shouldered the only remaining unexplored door of their house open and was pleasantly surprised; the walls had been painted a dark green, a big bed with black sheets and the hides from their old bed, side tables, a desk, and, rather randomly, the chem station from Red Rocket. He carefully lay his lover on the bed and lit a lantern. He pulled off Xan's boots before taking his own off and laying beside him, pulling the sheets up over both of them.

He wasn't tired, his mind still turning over everything that happened since he'd met Xan. How long has it been? It felt like he'd been with him forever. His tormentors were dead and rotting on some two hundred year old concrete, his son was cured, he had a safe place to call his own. He lifted the back of Xan's shirt to check for a rash. He stopped taking the antibiotics days ago but he felt better seeing his smooth pale skin.

He decided to read for a bit. He got up, found the comics, grabbed a beer, and lay back down in the warm quiet bed. Cig in his mouth, the smooth taste of the alcohol, and a story in his head, he was content.

Xan rolled over in his sleep, his arm flopping over Mac's belly and nuzzled into his side. Comic in one hand and cig stubbed out on the side table, Mac's other hand automatically moved and stroked the back of Xan's neck. It was an absent movement, as though he'd been doing it for years. Tracing little patterns in the sleep-warm skin.

Xan tucked his head and moved Mac's shirt up so he could press against his skin. Mac looked down at him and saw his eyes were still shut but his breathing wasn't deep. Xan was shit at pretending to sleep.

He trailed his fingers under the collar of Xan's shirt and traced the bumps of his spine there. A little sighing sound and little smile came from his partner and Mac put the magazine down. It had been so long since they were properly alone together. Every movement he'd been making lately had been driving him crazy. From stretching, to walking with hips swaying, his face lighting up when he laughed. He needed his skin on him. Needed to breathe in his smell and swallow his moans.

He put both hands down the back of Xan's shirt and trailed them as far as he could reach, ghosting over his ribs and back up his spine and into his hair. He pressed lightly, just to feel Xan's mouth against the skin of his side. He felt that mouth open and his tongue flickered over his skin and the arm over his belly moved to trail low over his abs. He shivered as goosebumps were left in the wake of his slow gentle movements.

Xan’s hand moved lower and brushed over the rapidly straining bulge in his pants. He didn't say a word, just kept his fingers in the blonde hair and watched those nimble fingers begin to undo his belt. 
Xan's head moved and he began to trail kisses over his stomach, shifting his body and kneeling between his legs, and his fingers popped the button of his pants. Mac kept his hands in his hair. He heard his zip go and then the light touch of a thumb over the head of his dick. His head thumped the bars of the bed.

He stayed as silent as his lover as he pulled him free and stroked him gently. Warmth flooded through him and he felt the sweat begin to bead on his scalp and in his lower back. He lifted his hips to meet the rhythm Xan was setting and couldn't help the groan as Xan's free hand pulled his pants down. He pulled the fabric down as far as it would go and then shifted to help him kick the pants away and to the floor. His hand never stopped its attention on his dick and Mac hastily pulled his shirt and scarf off before returning his hands to Xan's hair.

He pushed and Xan followed his silent instruction and moved his head down. He kissed and licked over his lower belly and hips before looking up at him through his fringe and wrapping his lips around the head of his straining and weeping cock. If Mac could've purred, he would've. Slick heat surrounded him and he rolled up into it. He watched himself disappear into Xan's mouth, felt the back of his throat, and Xan's nose was pressed into the dark coarse hair at his base, “ Fuck, Luke.” He hummed around him and the vibration set his nerve endings alight. His eyes wanted to shut as he melted into the feeling but he wanted to keep watching. The lips stretched tight around him, the little trails of saliva that were dripping from the corners of his mouth. The flush of his cheeks and his sweat damp forehead.

He saw his hips wiggling and only then realised that he had undone his own pants and was kicking them away. He felt him moan and swallow around him as his hand wrapped around himself. Then he let go of his dick and Mac watched, raptured, as he wet his fingers with his tongue and moved them to his own arse. A whine escaped him as he fingered himself whilst he still sucked on Mac's dick. 

He could feel the hot coil in his belly threatening to snap and he yanked on Xan's hair to pull him away. He didn't want to cum yet. He wanted to be inside him. Needed to be. 

Xan cried out quietly at the sting of his hair being pulled and knelt up fully, fingers still spreading himself, and Mac got to watch him in all his glory. Body rocking with sweat dripping down his chest and stomach as he fucked himself on his own fingers. He leaned towards Xan a bit and wrapped his hand around his dick and Xan bucked into his fist with a breathy lilting keen.

“Tell me…tell me what you want, Robert.”

His name spilled out of his mouth like a prayer and he had to shut his eyes for a brief second, “I want everything. Need you.” He leaned back again as Xan removed his fingers and crawled over his legs and hips.

“Can I touch you?” He breathed into his ear once he was settled in his lap. He nodded against him and instantly his hands were roaming over his chest, brushing over his pecs and nipples and down his sides, “Oh, fucking hell , Rob. You're gorgeous.” He kissed his mouth, tongue diving in and exploring him. He ground down his hips and Mac felt his dick slide up the cleft of his arse. He was so hard. He dragged his hands down Xan's back and pulled him closer so their chests could press against each other. He needed to be closer. Impossibly closer. 

Xan pulled away from the kiss, a little trail of spit keeping them linked, and then he spat into his own hand. He hadn't seen anything more dirty or more arousing in his life and the feeling ticked up as Xan reached back and wet Mac's dick with the spit, “Ready, love?”

“Yes, fuck, I'm so ready.”

Xan lined himself up and Mac could feel the head of his dick pressing against him. There was a moment of hovering anticipation and then Xan pushed himself down.

Hot, tight heat. Xan sank further and further down, a deep moan falling out of him. Mac couldn't make a sound. He thought he was going to burst. Xan's bare arse met his hips with a little ah! Mac's hand flew to his hips, a sudden flurry of worry hitting him, “Is it hurting?”

“Only in the best way.” He was still and Mac lifted his hips into the heat, “Wait a moment, Robbie…” His hands were on his shoulders and he kissed him again. Soft and gentle, distracting him from the heat and pressure between his legs for a solid torturous minute. Then he moved and all his blood left his head. It was a slow gentle rocking motion at first, teasing and filled with love. Then Xan whispered in his ear, “Fuck me then.”

The slowness and gentleness evaporated as Mac forced his dick deeper inside, chasing Xan's hips as he lifted them. The sounds of skin hitting skin and Xan crying out filled the soft lantern lit room. He held his hips hard and moaned at the thought of the fingertip bruises he'd be leaving.

Finally.  

Xan pressed their foreheads together and held onto him, their breaths mingled together. One of his hands pulled Mac’s away from one hip and held it tight before pulling it up and encouraging him to wrap his fingers on his throat.

“Fu- Lucas.”

He hissed through his teeth as MacCready gripped him and applied a bit of pressure, his hips slamming down, “Harder.”

Mac's vision whited out and he flipped them, pushing Xan beneath him and hooking one leg with his elbow. He drove down into him, his perfect face red and sweating as he kept the pressure on his throat. He felt his other leg hook over his hips as Xan's hands flew to the bars of the bed, stretching out his chest and belly. He was so wide open for him, dick pressed between their stomachs, trusting him completely.

That heat in his belly shot through him and he chased the feeling, movements becoming erratic and messy. He tightened his hand and saw Xan open his mouth in a silent cry as he shook and a hot wetness spread between them. He snapped and every inch of him curled over Xan as he came deep inside his lover.

He collapsed on top of him, quickly removing his hand from his throat and gently stroking it to ease whatever pain it might have caused. He didn’t care about the mess between them. All he cared about were Xan’s hands as they lazily trailed over his scalp and over his shoulders and along the top of his back.

“I love you so much.” It just spilled out of him. The first time he’d said it. He had been waiting for some grand moment where he could tell him everything he felt, but this was probably the grandest thing he’d ever done, “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” His fingers were gently stroking over his face, tracing the lines of his cheekbones and nose.

“Hmm, I love you too.”

***

Comments welcome. Thank you :)

Chapter Text

“You know,” Deacon began as they sat together with Hancock watching the brothers work with Danse, “I actually saw them coming out of the Vault.”

Mac scoffed, “No, you didn't. You're so full of sh- crap.”

Xan, Will, and Danse were moving a turret to a new spot, they had loose fitting dirty white working shirts on that were cut from the armpits to the bottom of their ribs. The air was warm and they were sweating. Hancock growled beside him. They had the best view underneath the awning of the workshop.

“No no, seriously. I'm being so serious right now.” He took a sip of his beer and waved in the general direction of the Vault up the hill.

Hancock crossed his leg over his knee, eyes never leaving Will as his partner hefted the turret with those huge strong arms, “How? No one even knew about that Vault until they came tumbling out. Stop talking shit, you're distracting me from my show, man.”

Deacon leaned back in his rickety chair with a grin, “We got intel that the Institute had been scoping this area out so I was sent to find out what they were after.” 
The turret was placed on its new support and Xan was squatting next to it, arms elbow deep in its workings, covered in black streaks of grease and oil, the curve of his ass straining in his jeans, “I found the entrance to the Vault and set up camp to see if anything would happen.” 
Mac lit a cigarette as Xan stretched his arms over his head, a flash of his sweating chest in the loose shirt, and he said something to his brother with a shake of his head. Will rolled his shoulders and together, sweating and grunting, they started twisting the turret to face a different direction. Danse pushed it into place with a great show of strength, biceps bulging, “Two weeks I waited. Two! Then there was a massive grating noise and the ground vibrated.”

Hancock hummed and took the half smoked cig from Mac, black eyes roving over the men covered in sweat and grease, “Uh huh.”

“They came out of the ground like angels ascending out of Hell. The sun was rising and they rose with it. It looked like they were wearing fucking halos, man.” He had a weirdly wistful look on his face as Mac met his eyes. He'd wanted to ask the brothers about that first day but figured it was a sore spot.

“Yeah? Then what?” He took the cig back from Hancock.

“They just stood there, holding hands in blue suits with golden one-eleven’s printed on their backs, for ages. I'm talking a solid two or three hours, Mac. It was like I was watching the Gods decide what to do with us.” 
Deacon always had a flair for dramatics but Mac could actually imagine the scene, “Then, they said something to each other and walked down to here. Holding hands the whole way.” 
He pointed across the way to Will and Hancock's house, “Good old William sat Xander down and went off to kill like fifty Bloats with Codsworth. Came back filthy then they went inside.”

Hancock chuckled, it was just like good-old-William to hit the ground running. Mac looked over at the house, imagining Xan sat there, “What did Xan do?”

“He just kinda…waited. All quiet in the grass.” Deacon shrugged, “Checked his hair and hands and stuff and then stared off for a while. Didn't make a sound the entire time. Dunno what he was thinking or anything.”

“How did you meet them, brother?” 

No one actually knew and Deacon talked a lot of shit. One person would ask and he'd answer by saying he saved the brothers from the Children of Atom. Another would ask and he'd say he didn't know the brothers at all. Each story had its own unique bullshit tapestry that Deacon enjoyed spinning.

Deacon smirked, “I followed them for ages. Saw them save Preston, saw them meet Piper. Then, one day, I was following them through the ruins to some settlement and Xander spun on the spot and pointed right at me.” 
He made the motion but pointed to Xan as if mimicking him, “I have no idea how he knew I was there. I was practically invisible. That guy can spot shit from miles away. He shouted out, ‘ You! Either say hello already or we'll open fire. Getting pretty bored of you tailing us.’ Man, I literally almost shit my pants.” Mac laughed, “Been with ‘em ever since.”

“Damn, brother, people just flock to ‘em. I thought I'd had something I could hang my hat on in Goodneighbor but, being with them? Made me realise how small time I was thinking.” 

The turret was now being bolted to the floor, Xan's arms rippling as he worked the wrench as Will and Danse held it in place. Cait approached them, said something that had them laughing, before she squatted and helped yank the tool from where it had gotten stuck. Deacon groaned beside them.
People really did flock to them. Settlements popped up like carrot flowers everywhere, Minutemen recruits came in from all over the place, settlers smiled and said thank you to them on the daily. And Mac and Hancock got to be with them.

It used to bother him how many eyes would follow Xan, and by extension Will, when they'd rest in a settlement or visit a town. People would leer and make crude comments about them. They'd usually shut up when he and Hancock glared but the eyes would still follow. Men and women alike would approach them and proposition them.
One time, a very attractive young man had approached them both with swaying hips as they sorted through some supplies. He had beautiful dark hair that brushed his shoulders in a glossy curtain and a clean smooth face that dimpled when he’d smiled. Hancock and Mac had tensed up. But, both brothers simply shook their heads at him and waved him away. Polite but firm.

Now, though? When people approached them it just made him feel a bit smug and prideful.

The laughter of children distracted him and he saw Duncan running down the street with a group of kids of all ages, waving sticks and shouting, “Charge!" Xan stood and caught Duncan up with a laugh as the other kids attacked the other adults. A small war broke out. Mac just leaned back and smiled.

***

A fighting ring had been set up and bets were passing between the hands of settlers, Minutemen, and their family alike.

Hancock leaned against the railing that served as the fighting rings barrier with Danse, “Who did you bet on, Hancock?” The ex-paladin asked mildly.

“Will, obviously, brother.”

The sun was setting, lighting the people of Sanctuary up in a golden glow. Children were playing, he could distinctly hear Duncan laughing with Nat and Toby, and the people were chatting and smiling as they waited for the fight to begin. 

Better than, like, eighty percent of chems .

Goodneighbor was doing well under the firm rough hand of Fahrenheit. His second in command sent updates every other week and his presence was only requested when something serious needed discussing. He could stay here, in his new home with William, forever if he wanted to. And he found that he did want to.

It was safer and cleaner than he was used to but no less fun. Like every town, Sanctuary had its dark alleyways and people who had secrets and ambitions and he revelled in it. He'd help Will keep the place almost perfect like Will had helped him keep Goodneighbor almost too chaotic. 

The walls were high but not oppressive, the turrets pointed distinctly away from the people, the guards eyes sweeping the area surrounding this haven. Not towards it. The people were free to do as they pleased, within reason, just like in Goodneighbor. You wanted to get high? Fine, just away from the children. You wanted to have a fight? Perfect, just keep it in the ring and don't murder. Pitch in, help out, live free. Men, women, children, ghouls, and synths alike.

Of the people. For the people.

It was the same in all of Will's settlements. Keep the peace, deal with your issues respectfully, and the Minutemen will be there at a minute's notice.

A ghoul kid, Billy he thinks he's called, tore around the corner and collided with Duncan. They laughed and ran off towards the playground, closely followed by Nat and Toby and a few others. He vaguely heard Xan call out to be careful from where he was tinkering with a gun, closely shadowed by Mac.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” A woman dressed in the colours of the guard was standing in the ring, “We're about ready to begin this most auspicious battle!” People laughed and cheered, the tinking of bottles and glasses knocking together, “Are we ready!?”

A loud cheer as the combatants entered the ring. 

Will, dressed in a loose wife beater and grey flowing pants, rolled his shoulders as he smirked at his opponent.
Cait, hands wrapped at the knuckles and dressed similarly to Will, cackled as she bounced on the balls of her bare feet. She was dwarfed by the General and Hancock felt justified in the bet he'd placed. Will was going to wipe the floor with her.

“In the red corner,” the announcer continued, “we have the six foot seven hulking powerhouse of our beloved leader!” People laughed again as Will cracked his neck with his stupid smirk, “General Rake!” More bets exchanged hands, “In the blue corner, we have the five foot five coiled snake of our esteemed guard, Cait!” Said coiled snake punched her own palm with her usual evil grin. Deacon materialised beside them with a light flush to his usually composed features, “At the sound of the gun, you fight! First to the ground or to be thrown from the ring loses!”
A pause of tension building anticipation as the Minuteman raised her pistol into the air and backed away to the edge of the ring, “Three…two…one…” the shot rang out and the fight began.

Will and Cait stalked each other in a slow wide circle around the ring. Blue eyes watching green intently as feet gracefully made slight scuffs in the dirt, the air between them electric. Tension filled and crackling and making Hancock grin and shiver in delight. He did so love to watch William work. The name on his thigh burned with delicious anticipation and he could feel a piece of his soul reaching out to the battle-master.

The tension rushed to completion and snapped. Cait danced forward and Will quickly blocked her strong kick. He jumped back at the same time as his hand jabbed towards her gut. She laughed and dodged.

The tempo was building and Hancock waited with bated breath for Will to sing. His voice would fill the air and settle in his brain and chest like it belonged there. Because it did . 

Everyone in Sanctuary knew. They knew their General had a voice like a siren. Low and filled with the rush of the wind in a storm. They started clapping and stamping their feet in a bass filled rhythm. Will smiled as Cait’s fist made contact with his ribs.

“I thought I saw the devil,”  

People cheered as that voice rang out. He caught Cait’s leg and punched her in the shoulder. Cait laughed and backed away to stalk again.

“This morning,
Looking in the mirror, drop of rum on my tongue,”

He rushed forward at lightning speed and caught Cait up.

“With a warning to help me see myself clearer,”

Cait's fists were landing blows down on Will's face and shoulders. They didn't hold back against each other and blood spilled from a split in Will's lip. He just grinned through it, licking red teeth, as the people of Sanctuary continued to lay out the beat to the fight.

“I never meant to start a fire,
 I never meant to make you bleed,
I'll be a better man today…”

Will headbutted Cait and her own blood spilled, mixing with the General's as she finally broke free from his bear hold. She kneed him in the stomach and wrapped her own strong arms around him.

“I'll be good, I'll be good,
And I'll love the world, like I should,
Yeah, I'll be good, I'll be good,
For all of the times that I never could.”

She wrapped a leg around the back of one of Will's, and in a surprising turn of what Hancock was sure would've happened, she flipped Will over and he landed on his back with a huff. She straddled him, landing one more punch to his face, and then raised her hands in victory.

A gunshot went off and the fight ended, winnings were handed over. Danse and Deacon laughing at Hancock as they filled their pockets with the Mayor's caps.

“That's fucking bullshit, brother.”

Deacon shrugged, “All's fair in love and war, Johnny boy.” Deacon moved away to wrap and arm over Cait's shoulder as she wiped the blood from her mouth and knuckles with a happy smile. People congratulated her and handed over beers.

Will approached Hancock with a sheepish shrug, “Can't win ‘em all, love. How much did you lose?”

“Nothing I can't get back, Sunshine.” Three hundred caps and a bottle of Daytripper.

Will lay his hands on Hancock's hips, “I think I need some special first-aid. Wanna go home and… tend to me?” Silly smirking bloodied face.

“Only if you stay dirty. It suits you, you know.”

“Mhmm, anything for you, sweetheart.”

***

He woke up in their bed and reached out for Lucas. The bed beside him was empty and the spot he'd been in was cold. He sat up with a groan and looked around. The sun was filtering through a small gap in the sheet they used as a curtain, the lantern was out, and Xan's shirt was gone from where they'd thrown it the night before. He'd actually slept in. 

Their home was becoming their own. The past few weeks had been spent putting their own touches on everything. Paint, decorations, furniture. He even had his own weapons stand that was slowly filling up with all his favourite rifles and pistols and his new armour with Minutemen stars.

He heard a clatter from their kitchen and Duncan squeaked and laughed. Mac stood and went toward the noise. He stood in the hallway and peeked around the corner to see what was happening.

Duncan was dodging Xan as he held a spoon of some beige dripping mess, “C’mon, duck, you have to taste it!” He was saying it with a laugh, “You have to tell me if it's ready to be cooked!”

“No no no, it looks super gross!” He dodged again and cackled as Xan caught him about the waist and held the spoon close to his face.

“Open wide for the airplane!”

“No!” He squirmed, “Daddy! Let go!” His face was red with laughter and Mac's brain fizzed. Daddy.

“Duck…” Xan had paused and balanced Duncan up onto his hip and turned back to the stove, scooping the dripping beige concoction into a bowl before putting it into the fire, “Daddy?”

Duncan was resting his head on Xan's shoulder and shrugged, suddenly very serious, “Dad says we're going to be with you forever.”

He had said that during a quiet moment as he watched Duncan colour, “Yeah, you are.” He was cleaning up one handed.

“And my mummy died a long time ago.”

“Yeah, she did.” He squeezed him a little in comfort.

“You can't be my mummy because you're like dad and me. So that makes you a daddy.”

“I guess it does, duck. Do you think your dad would mind if you called me dad too?” 

They were looking at each other. Two pairs of very serious eyes, brown and blonde fringes touching. Mac had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

“Dad told me to ask you.”

Xan kissed his son's head with a grin, “Okay, little duck, I don't mind.”

“Can I be a big duck now? I'm nearly a big boy.”

“No, you’ll always be my little duck.” Xan moved them around the partition wall that led to the living room and Mac decided to let them have this moment. He went back to their room, pulled the curtain open and opened the window before lighting a cig and blowing the smoke into the outside air. 

***

They were on their way to Hubris Comics. Mac had told Will it was almost Duncan's birthday just casually as the boy came up in conversation and now the man was on a mission to get the best birthday present.

So there they were; Will, MacCready, Hancock, Nick, Piper, Cait, Deacon, Danse, Preston, and, their newest addition, Curie. Trudging through the ruins as Will exclaimed, again , that he was going to be Duncan's favourite uncle. Xan had stayed home to look after their son and to work the clinic now that Curie was on missions and Kenzie the medic was stressed. That suited Mac just fine. They were safe in Sanctuary.

“No, I'm going to be his favourite, Charmer. He's already said I am.”

“Ach, no he fucking hasn't, ya liar.” Cait said as she hit the side of a bin with her bat, startling a nearby crow.

“He did! Little tyke was so serious too.” The more time Duncan spent with Xan, the more of his mannerisms he adopted. Kid was serious about being a doctor like him and followed him to the clinic nearly every day when he wasn't at school or with the other children.

“Xan's his favourite.” Mac said mildly as he checked the area ahead of them through his scope.

Will laughed, “Xan's his dad, he doesn't count.”

They rounded a corner and were suddenly face to face with a group of Gunners. There was a pause as both groups just looked at each other before one Gunner said, “Oh shit, is that MacCready. ”

Then Will blew his head off with a gruff, “ Our MacCready. Bag dog.”

The fight was short and sweet. A group as big, experienced, and well armed as they were was more of a threat in the ruins than most other things. Curie checked them over at the end but was satisfied that no one was seriously hurt, just a few scrapes and a broken knuckle on Cait where she'd punched a Gunner in the jaw.

“Anyway, I'm his favourite.” Hancock swaggered ahead, flicking blood from his knife.

They were nearly at the comic store now. The group had all kind of fallen in love with his son and he was grateful for it. It meant more people watching his back as he grew. And a group like this? Something would have to be very lucky to get to him. Even Nick watched him as he played but he very rarely approached.

The comic shop was a mess. Long dead ferals rotted in corners and Mac asked about it. Will replied, “One of the first places we came to when we were finding our feet here. Xan really wanted a new book and…well, you know how difficult it is to say no to him.” Mac did know.

They followed Will through the shop and he paused at a display case with a grin, “What you reckon? Am I gonna be his favourite?” Mac looked through the dirty glass and said a quiet no fucking way . 
Inside was an axe. The axe. Grognak’s weapon of choice. Will chuckled and broke the glass with his fist and lifted the axe out, holding it aloft in victory.

Piper groaned, “That's not fair, Blue. How are we meant to top that?”

Will shrugged, “Nothing stopping you from looking around, Pipes.”

They wandered the shop. They found a few comics and memorabilia that were packed away carefully, but Mac couldn't find anything that was just right.  
He went up the stairs, checking the rooms and offices, before stepping onto the top floor. A dead feral, similar to the one that had attacked Xan in Med-Tek those months ago but no longer glowing, was on the floor. He shivered. He didn't want to think about just the two of them going up against it.

He rifled through things, finding a Grognak costume and a Silver Shroud outfit, but didn't take them. 
Then, he found them. The perfect thing. Packaged away in an old box that was hidden beneath a sound desk and felt the giddy feeling bloom inside. 

Shirts. All sizes and colours and decorated. 
Grognak, Silver Shroud, Woman of Mystery, all the Unstoppables. They were perfect.
He picked a few of different sizes and designs and packed them away for Duncan. He suddenly remembered Xan's old Grognak shirt that had been torn through with a Gunner knife and grabbed him a similar one with an excited giggle. He knew he missed that shirt.

The group made their way to Hangman's Alley to set up for the night. They planned to go to Diamond City the next day to see if a few traders there would be open to open trade with the Minutemen and if the city has more things for Duncan’s birthday. 

As they settled around a fire, Will spoke, “I'm still waiting for this stupid Courser signal thing to pop.” He was frowning at his PipBoy, tuned into a static wavelength that apparently the Institute used.

“Well,” Nick smoked beside him, “You can't expect the Institute to send out Coursers for every little thing, can you?”

“Guess not. Getting sick of the static though.” He looked around at them, “When it does happen, I'm taking a smaller group than I originally planned. I'm hoping to sneak up on the thing so I'll be taking; Hancock, Mac, Cait, and Deacon. Everyone good with that?” Preston, Danse, and Nick shrugged. Piper frowned but didn't argue. Curie just smiled mildly. 

Will stood as a Minuteman of the settlement approached them, “Sirs…ma'ams,” he said nervously, not sure how to address the General's party, “We have news from Sanctuary.” Mac looked up in interest, “All is well. Captain Xander has said that he needs you to get a restock of chems. Here's the list.” He held out a paper for Will who took it.

“Don't let him hear you call him Captain. He'll have an aneurysm.”

“Yes, sir, General. Lieutenant General,” he nodded to Preston, “Umm, sirs and ma’ams.” He awkwardly twitched away.

“Captain?” Danse asked.

“Hmm, yeah.” He was reading and re-reading the list with a furrowed brow, “What the fuck is Salvarsam?” He looked to Curie.

“It ez a poison. It used to be used for chemotherapy et Syphilis, oui?” Mac didn’t know what Syphilis was.

Will hummed before answering Danse more fully, “When we first got set up he needed a bit of weight behind him for the doctors to listen to him. Some were…arrogant. Thought that someone as young as him would have no idea what he was talking about.”

“Oh, monsieur Xander, ‘es very well versed on ze art of medicine.”

“Yeah, I know, Curie. But not everyone else did.” He pocketed the list, already memorised in his head, “They do now, obviously, but the title stuck.”

Well, now Mac knew why people called Lucas sir .

Diamond City was as awful as always, though MacCready did allow himself some of Takahashi's noodles. Hancock was fuming beside him, bandanna pulled up over his mouth and nose and hat pulled low, “Fucking hate this place, Mac.”

“Hmm, not my favourite place either.” He'd done odd jobs here and had hated every minute of it. The only redeeming qualities of this place were the Dug Out and the kid that ran the radio station. And the noodles, of course. Hancock kept looking up at the Mayor's office high in the stands, “We can wait outside?”

“Nah, gotta keep an eye on William. Make sure this place doesn't chew him up. The oppression of this place makes me fucking sick, man. People in the stands putting themselves literally above those in the field.”

Of the people. For the people.

“Never know, might end up a Minuteman settlement soon?” He slurped his noodles and looked around the market. Hancock was drawing attention so he kept on glaring at the people who called this place home. The floodlights on the walls lit the field up as though watching for the people to do something untoward. Not like their home. 

“Heh. That'd be a sight to see.”

“Hey! No ghouls allowed!” Some man dressed in a snappy suit with a bat was approaching them and Mac carefully put his noodle bowl back on the top of Takahashi's stand, “Get your ugly fucking face out of here.”

Hancock drew himself up, “Wanna make me?” The Minuteman star glinted on his light armour over his signature red coat. He obviously wasn't your usual drifting ghoul.

Mac stood by his side, laying a friendly arm over the Ghoul's shoulder, “Yeah, wanna make him?”

The man scowled, “You don't have to be involved in this, kid. We're just here for the freak.” He was backed up now by a small mob. The guards just watched.

Hancock tensed at the word freak, “You're playing a dangerous game here, friend . Fucking try it.”

“I ain't your friend. Shoulda died in the ruins like the rest of your kind.”

Hancock went to step forward but paused. The great hulking form of Will had appeared behind the mob, his General armour dark and his rank flashing over it. He was flanked by his own mob; Cait, Danse, in dark grey and blue Minuteman Power Armour, and Deacon.
Hancock took a step back to Mac's side and relaxed against the noodle stand with a grin. The mob leader laughed, “Aww, you scared? We'll drag you out by your stupid hat and make you nice and weak for the ruins to have you, yeah?”

“Not scared even a little bit, pal.” Mac leaned back and sat back on his stool, casually crossing his knee with his leg.

“You fuck -”

“So, you wanna back the fuck up or am I gonna have to get involved?” Will's deep timber rumbled through the crowd, Mac felt Hancock shiver beside him. The people looked over their shoulders and some scattered, leaving the ring leader and a few loyal people behind.

“Why the fuck do you care? It's just a ghoul.”

Will's eyes narrowed dangerously and Cait let the head of her bat meet her palm, “It?” He stepped forward slowly, his size and back up intimidating even MacCready, “ It? Want me to make you an it ?”

“You can't do shit to me, guy.” The mob leader looked for the guards but they had magically disappeared after the General of the Minutemen got involved. The man swallowed but stood his ground, “We don't allow ghouls here.”

Will was towering over the man now, “Yeah? Why not? Enlighten me.”

“You know...they're dirty . Can turn feral at the drop of a pin.” The man said it almost conspiratorially.

A fake look of surprise on the big man's scarred face, the scar across his nose pulling, “Oh.” 
Will made his way around to Mac and Hancock. He looked the man dead in the eyes as he pulled Hancock's bandanna down and brought his mouth to his, “Did you know, sweetheart? You never told me you were dirty . Or feral .”

Hancock laughed, “Only when you ask nicely, Sunshine.”

Will turned back to the man whose mouth was hanging open, “Think you'd better fuck off. Don't you?”

The man was opening and closing his mouth like a dying fish before muttering, “ Freak fucker. ” And leading his friends away. 
Will jerked his chin at Cait and she smiled evilly as she followed the small group, bat held casually by her side.

Will rolled his neck with a frown, “Fucking hate this place. I need a haircut, wanna come?”

“Lead the way.”

Mac noticed that Will kept a hand on Hancock's hip for the rest of their visit.

They saw the man who had threatened Hancock just as they were leaving the city. He had big black eyes and had a missing front tooth. Cait waved at him with a laugh.

***

It was good to be home. The walls of Sanctuary were high and the people were cheerful. He split off from the group to go find his favourite people. He'd been gone nearly a week and missed them both terribly.
They weren't at home when he dropped his bags and secret presents off, not in the playground or workshop, and not in the communal building with a board game or snack. Clinic then.

He made his way over to the building. It had grown since the first time he'd seen it, extensions being added and staff hired as the population grew.

Curie, who had rushed to the clinic as soon as they'd entered Sanctuary, and Kenzie looked up at him as he pushed the door open. They were sorting the supply of chems Xan had requested they scavenge a few days ago. 
Kenzie nodded her head toward a door and Mac carefully made his way around the busy medics and their patients. The room beyond the door was used for patients who required more than just a quick stitch or Stimpak. He quietly opened the door a crack and, peeking through, saw Xan and Duncan treating a friendly ghoul woman whose leg was twisted funny.

“Okay, duck, now we have to help Debbie straighten her ankle.” He hadn't looked up at him yet, “So, what do we need?”

The woman was watching his son with a small smile. She didn't seem to be in much pain and allowed the boy to learn, “We need…Med-X and a splint, daddy.”

“And what else do we need to do?”

“Umm…” his little serious face looked up at the woman, “Okay, Debbie, daddy is going to give you Med-X and then put your ankle back together. Is that okay?” Good bedside manner. Mac beamed.

The ghoul woman laughed and nodded, “Okay, little angel, that's fine by me. You're a very good doctor.”

“I'm gonna be the best doctor, like my daddy.” He said it with a shrug as though it were obvious.

Mac heard Debbie whisper to Xan then, “You've got a very sweet kid, doctor. You and your husband must be so proud.”

Xan blushed and nodded, not correcting her use of the word husband even as it shot through Mac like a spear, “We are, thanks for letting him try, Debbie.” He injected her with Med-X.

She sighed at the pain relief, “Ah, we all gotta start somewhere.”

Mac cleared his throat then and Xan looked up at him. He smiled wide and then Duncan shouted “Dad!” and threw himself at him. Mac caught him up and held him close, breathing in his hair and closing his eyes for a moment, “Dad, did you see? I was being a doctor!”

“I saw, buddy.” He looked at Xan who was now quickly splinting the ghoul woman's ankle and wrapping it tight, “You been good for your daddy?”

“Yeah,” He wriggled free and went to watch Xan tie of the bandage as he held Debbie's hand, “we built a turret, and I went to school, and we painted my bedroom, and I've been working here! Kenzie pays me.”

“In gumdrops, duck.” Xan was helping Debbie stand so she could test the weight on her leg, “He's been very good, Mac. Deserves an extra story tonight.” Debbie said thank you and hobbled out of the room with a ruffle on Duncan's hair. 

Xan approached him then and wrapped his arms around his middle, “Missed you so much, Robert.”

“Mmm,” He pulled him close and kissed him, “Missed you too, Lucas.”

“Gross.” Duncan mumbled.

***

Wildwood Cemetery was a peaceful place once all the ferals had been cleared out.
Will had only been here three times before today: the first when he had first come back from Anchorage, the second one grim anniversary when Xan was fifteen and feeling morbid, and the third a few months before the bombs had dropped.
He didn't like cemeteries generally, he never had, and even less so now. Before the bombs had dropped, they just served to remind him what he'd lost and what he'd missed. His parents' deaths and those missing two years with Xan. After the bombs dropped, they were death traps filled with the shambling corpses of those who should've died a long time ago.

Yet, here he was, his found family nearby and Xan by his side as they looked down at the old gravestone.

Here lies:
William. T. Rake. 
Veteran of the U.S Army and father of William. T. Rake Jnr and Lucas. A. Rake.
And his wife and Soulmate:
Lucia. A. Rake
May they forever rest in peace in the arms of our Lord.
Together forever.

“It is not an end, my love. It is the start of a brand new adventure.”

Xan laid a wreath of Hubflower over the stone and sat in the wilted grass, Will followed him down, like he always would.

“What do you think they'd make of us now?”

“Dad would be proud. Both his boys bloodstained and strong? He'd be ecstatic.” He knew he would be. Mr. Rake Senior was as battle hardened and as experienced in war as his eldest son. He was so proud when Will signed up and he wanted his youngest to follow in their family's tradition. All the men fought for their country in some capacity. Even now; Xan, whilst not a traditional fighter, fought his own battles against the diseases and injuries that plagued their people, “What about mum?”

“She's just happy we're not alone.” They both looked over at their people. Their little family of misfits and troublemakers. They were all sat in a loose circle around the fire that had been set up for the night, cards flashing between hands as MacCready dealt out poker or some other similar game, “I dreamt about them.”

“Huh?” He wrapped a loose arm over his brother, thumb gently brushing over the top of his arm and pulling him close.

Xan leaned into him, “After the Gunners. I had a dream. They were trying to take me with them, to wherever they are.”

The bright light at the end of the tunnel. The flashes of life before you pass over to the other side. Will had never seen it and hated that his boy had witnessed it before him. Hated that he had been hurt enough to be on that cusp of reality and the veil that lay beyond their world.

Gonna kill every fucking Gunner I ever see. Kill-On-Sight. Dance in the blood rain for my boy. Keep him whole. Keep him safe.

“Promise me, William,” his mother was standing over him as he lay on his bed, Lucas held close to her chest as he slept in her arms, forever holding onto her smell and warmth, “promise me you won't ever leave him alone. You have to look out for each other. Be each other's names when no one else will.”

“Mum…”

“I hope you find love, son. True love and happiness like I have with your father. I hope Lucas does too. Some nice man or woman who will be there for you when everything seems so dark and hopeless. I want you whole.”

“I'll be fine, mum. And Lucas will be too.” He shifted up onto his elbows to be closer to her and his brother.

“I hope so, love. Promise though, and never break a promise, sweetheart. Promise me that he'll be yours and you'll be his. Walk the earth with him as much as you can, as often as you can, be his name when no one else can be.”

“I promise, mum.”

She handed over his tiny little brother. His little perfect face is soft with sleep, pale hair like his own sticking up with sleep-sweat. He smelled like home. He felt like peace. He filled that jagged place where a Soulmate should be. He was his and he gave everything to him. He always would.

“What stopped you?”

“I heard you.” He was picking at the grass and reading the grave again, “You were telling me to wake up. I heard Hancock and Deacon too.”
Will huffed. Lucas had friends now. Actual friends. Not random folk he picked up in a bar or random colleagues who he only saw at work. Actual friends and family.
“And Robbie. He was there . Following me into the current. He pulled me out and held me until the dream stopped.”

I'll always be grateful to you, MacCready. Stupid bloody bleeding heart.

“I'm glad he did. So fucking glad. When you go, I go.”

“Will…”

“I promised , Luke. Promised. She'd be so pissed if I broke it now.”

They moved away from the grave of their long dead parents and joined their family by the fire. He was quick to wrap himself around the warmth of Hancock and watched as Mac leaned close to his brother. Xan's face lit up at the sniper and they whispered together, cards still flashing as another hand was dealt.

Will hummed into Hancock's ear and enjoyed the sigh and shiver it caused.

His mother and father are happy and watching over them all.

***

“I don't want to wake up yet, Robbie…” he was too cosy, blankets pulled up over his head and the soft stroking up his side as Mac woke up behind him.

“Mhmm, busy day ahead though, Captain .” He whispered it low into his ear and Xan groaned.

“ Fuck , don't say it like that.” Mac's hand lay flat on his stomach, fingertips lightly rubbing back and forth over the muscle, “Sturges can fix the purifier without me.”

His fingers tensed, “You're working with Sturges today?”

“Mhmm, one of the purifiers puttered out yesterday. Two man job, apparently.” He wanted the fingers to start stroking again so pushed back against Mac. 
His hand stroked up his chest and gently wrapped over his neck. The blanket shifted and then Mac's face was pressed against the back of his head. 

“What you gonna wear?” His voice was pitched low and dangerous and Xan did a whole body shudder.

“Um…my usual..?” He could hear his other hand rifling through the bedside table drawer.

“Not a nice warm hoodie…layers?” He heard the soft pop of the small tub of oil.

“N-no. My jeans and white - ah!”

A slick finger pressed at his arsehole from behind, slipping in and twisting before quickly being followed by a second, “Gonna show off all of this?” His fingers tightened on his neck and Xan groaned at the glorious contrasts in pressure.

“You…jealous?”

“No.” 

His fingers curled inside him and Xan couldn't focus on what was said next. His fingers fucked in and out of him, rough and dragging and drawing out ragged breaths. A third finger was pushed in and his back arched involuntarily as his hands flew out for something to grab onto, finding nothing but bed-sheets and pillows.
His mouth was on the back of his neck, nipping and sucking and most definitely leaving marks behind and having them in a place he couldn't hide easily sent a thrill down his spine that coiled and became tense. He could feel himself leaking and he couldn't get his mouth to work anymore.

Mac removed his fingers and he felt the protest form in his brain before those fingers were swiftly replaced by his dick. He rocked into him hard and quick to fill the emptiness before slowing into a softer rolling motion. Almost lazy and it would have felt gentle if it wasn't for the constraint around his throat.

“Oh, fuck , Luke…” His voice was in his ear, filling him up and twisting in his mind, “is it meant to feel…better every time?”

His hand loosened and Xan took a deep breath and grabbed his hand in his own. Mac brought his other hand, still slick with oil, and wrapped around his leaking dick to start stroking it in time with the deep slow thrusts of his hips.
The hot tension in Xan's back started rolling outward, setting him aflame and lighting up his nerves. He couldn't help the small keening noises that bubbled out of him.

“Love you.”

He came suddenly and without warning. It just exploded out of him to those words and the rapid heavy breathing ghosting over his neck. Mac finished quickly after a few more quick thrusts and he sighed at the warmth flooding into him.

They lay still for a long moment coming down from the high when Xan said, “Now I'm not gonna be able to think all day.”

“Heh.”

***

“Damn, the capacitor on the board has blown. We have any more?” He was almost shoulder deep in the water purifier, grease and oil streaking his skin and white shirt and he was sweating with the exertion. 

Sturges wasn't faring any better as he held the precarious access hatch open above the blonde, “Don't think so, Xander.”  Purifiers were tricky bits of equipment. Heavy and cumbersome with many moving parts.

“Fuck.” He had to remove the whole board. It was completely burnt through, “Boards?” Sturges nodded as he put the hatch back into place with a grunt, “Thank fuck for that.”

“I'll grab one in a minute. Quick break first though, eh Captain?” Sturges always said captain with a laugh.

Xan rolled his eyes but nodded. They climbed up the retaining wall that bordered the river and meandered through the grass and playground that the children of Sanctuary were currently tearing through.

“Daddy!” Duncan ran full tilt to him, happy face pink and sweaty from his game.

“Hey, little duck, being good for Marcy?” Said woman was watching the children like a hawk, they'd be going back to school soon.

“Uh huh!” The little boy started following the two men to the workshop, “We're learning about plants…” His little face frowned, “Plants are boring.”

Sturges snorted, “Plants are important, kiddo. Just look at the farm.”

“Yeah I guess…can I help with the purifier?”

“No.” Xan shook his head, “But, you can help with the board? I need you to pick me a new one.”

“Okay!”

“Where's dad?”

“Snipers nest.” 
Duncan was already running with Sturges towards the workshop as Xan looked up at the three different towers set up around Sanctuary. 

Not that one. Not that one. There.

He could see the glint of the scope of the rifle pointed at him and waved with a smile. The distant figure raised a hand in return.

“Duncan! Wait!” The sudden panicked voice of Sturges called out over the hubbub of the center of the town.

Xan spun towards the commotion just in time to see his son run into the main street and promptly get hit by a Brahmin where he fell to the ground hard.

“Duncan!” He sprinted over and waved off a panicked Carla.

“Oh my word! Is he okay!?”

Xan scooped Duncan up and then the boy started wailing. High pitched and pained cries that reverberated through Xan's skull but he ignored it as he checked him over. A grazed and bloody chin, hand bent funny to one side, scuffed knees. Xan carefully lay the bent hand over his boy's heaving chest and stood with him carefully cradled in his arms, just in time to hear the crack of a rifle going off in the distance. No one dropped into a bloody heap though, so Xan assumed that Mac had fired off into the distance. He's gonna be pissed.

No less pissed than the stalking Ghoul in red coming their way, shotgun casually, but dangerously, lay over his shoulders.

“It's fine, Hancock, just an accident.” He said quickly.

“Uh huh.” Hancock's eyes flicked over the still crying Duncan to the Brahmin and then to Trashcan Carla, “Maybe keep your cow on a tighter leash in the settlements, sister?”

“Of course, Mayor Hancock.” She didn't seem too perturbed by the Ghoul.

Hancock lay a gnarled hand over Duncan's head and the two of them began to make their way to Xan and Mac's home, “Not the clinic?”

“Nah, I can handle it at home. Besides, I reckon little duck might want his own toys and bed afterwards.” Duncan was sniffling against him now, bent hand still held carefully to his chest.

They made their way through the backyard of Will and Hancock’s home and up the steps to the blue door, Hancock idly batting a crow away from its perch on the railing there. The door had barely opened before they heard the rushed heavy footfalls coming up behind them. They turned and saw MacCready rushing up the steps wide eyed with a stricken worried face.

“He's okay, love, nothing that I and time can't fix.” He smiled reassuringly and Mac sagged in relief. Duncan wouldn't even be able to get a cold without Mac worrying.

Mac clapped Hancock on the shoulder, “Thanks for stepping in. I nearly shot that Brahmin…”

“No problem, brother. I'll leave you to it. You know where we are if you need anything.” Hancock left with a lazy salute and tip of the hat. He still looked pissed but would hopefully not shoot the Brahmin or Carla.

Xan huffed and settled Duncan onto the couch, “Robbie, can you get my kit, please?” 
Mac rushed away to their bedroom and was back half a moment later with the large med-kit. Will had said it was too much for just an at home first aid resource but Xan didn't care, he liked having his tools with him. 
Mac handed it over to a quiet thank you as Xan looked over Duncan again.

“Okay, little duck, what do we need?”

“Lucas -”

Duncan interrupted his dad, “Alcohol, Stimpaks, gauze, Med-X, and a splint.”

“Good boy, now let me see…what should I do first?” Xan feigned ignorance as he looked at the contents of his med-kit.

“Daddy, you need alcohol and gauze first, silly. I have blood on my chin and knees.”

“Such a clever, smart boy.” Xan wet some gauze with alcohol and gently dabbed at the graze to Duncan's chin. The kid barely flinched and looked up at his dad with a brave face as if to say: see, I'm strong like you . Mac grinned down at him, the last of the worry melting away, “Good job, duck.” He moved onto the boy's knees with fresh gauze and more alcohol, “What next?”

“Um. Is my wrist sprained or broken, daddy?”

“Definitely broken.” It was bent awkwardly to the right, the way a wrist shouldn't bend.

“O-okay…Med-X and then you need to…set it,” they saw the wince flash over his face at the thought, “then Stimpaks and splint.”

“Fantastic job, duck. Do you want dad to hold your other hand?”

He nodded his head, curls bouncing away, and Mac was instantly sat beside him, much larger scarred hands holding the smaller less scarred hand of his son. Less scarred. Duncan's body was littered with tiny pockmarks from the plague he'd suffered through, some may fade with time but others will be with him for life.

“Okay, here we go.” 

He brought the Med-X up to the join of Duncan's neck and shoulder and quickly poked the skin and administered the fast acting pain relief. Almost instantly, Duncan's shoulders relaxed and his head lolled to one side against Mac's chest. Xan hummed as his fingers found the break in his boy's wrist and prodded at it to find the best way to straighten it. He held his forearm still and yanked the hand into a more natural position, laying the little fingers flat. He'd heard the bone crack and felt it realign beneath his palm and suppressed the shudder. Doing this on nearly strangers and his brother was much easier than having to do it on his kid. He quickly lay the splint along the sides of the wrist and wrapped it tight to keep it still. A Stimpak was administered and then he looked up at Mac.

“He's gonna sleep for a bit whilst the Med-X runs its course. You wanna stay there or put him to bed.”

Mac was looking at him with sparkling eyes, a mix of sadness and happiness, “I'll stay here with him.” He pulled Duncan ever closer and got comfortable.

“Okay, love,” Xan stood and placed a kiss on the top of Mac's head, “I'll get you a drink.”

“Thank you.”

Thank you for the drink. Thank you for healing Duncan.

***

The tree in the center of town was lit up with fairy lights and lanterns, disturbing the crows that nested there, its great branches sheltering the community that had gathered beneath it. Music was playing, people were dancing, and tables of food and drink were laid out in the warm evening.
The children were swinging sticks at a cobbled together piñata shaped like a Deathclaw. Duncan at the front. It was his party after all. Five years old. He was already such a serious strong kid, the wastelands didn't leave much room for youth these days 

Xan watched him from where he was sitting with a beer and a cigarette. He lounged, loose booted feet kicked out in front of him and his new favourite Grognak shirt fluttering lightly in the warm breeze. He stayed along the edges of the party to get distance from the noise, the beginnings of a migraine pulling behind his eyes, but he ignored it. He wouldn't ruin his son's birthday by having to leave. Step-son? Son? Was there a difference? Didn't feel like there was a difference. And, Duncan called him daddy not step-daddy.

He sighed into his beer and let the night air wash over him. He wasn't sure where his melancholy was coming from. He had everything he could want and need; family, friends, his Soulmate, a kid, a home, purpose.
Was it the fact that they still hadn't found a way to get to Shaun? Was it the fact that Sanctuary was so loud unless he was in the clinic or at home with Mac? Or, was it the fact, that Nick fucking Valentine kept watching him? He could feel those orange eyes on the back of his head even now. 

He rolled his neck and took another drag on his cigarette and distracted himself by watching his son and partner hold up Grognak's axe with big cheers. Will was giddy behind them shouting something about being the favourite.

“Xander.” The rattle of gears and mechanical arms sounded.

He jumped, “Fucking hell, Nick.” He blew more smoke and screamed at Will in his mind.

The robot rattled again and the noise pierced his brain, “Just checking in.”

“You're always just checking in.” He looked at him and scowled, “Do you actually have anything to say or are you just here to hover again?”

Nick shrugged, “Things are gonna be changing real soon., kiddo.” He sounded weirdly giddy for a robot. Like he had a new exciting case and the hottest lead to solving it. 

Xan rolled his eyes, “Sure thing, bud. We'll have Shaun soon, after all.”

“Uh huh. Sure, kid.”

A heaven sent Deacon was approaching and Xan let himself relax a bit. In the distance, Will, Hancock, and MacCready were watching, “Hey, Bolts, you gotta minute? Need your advice on somethin’.”

Nick stood, a skeletal metal hand tapping Xan's shoulder as he did, “Of course, Deacon.” They wandered away, leaving Xan to sit in the relative quiet again, his skin crawling from where Nick had touched him. Nick had a way of getting under his skin like no one else and he wanted to desperately shut his eyes and squeeze the pressure point on his forehead for some relief but he wouldn't let Mac worry about him on a day like today. Today was for their boy, not for him to escape into their cosy little space.

So he sat, face in a semi neutral smile. He clapped when Duncan blew out his candles. He turned down more alcohol. He smoked another cigarette and waved at Mac as his gunmetal gaze glinted at him.

And then, finally, the party was winding down. Kids were being bundled away by their parents or carers, sleepy happy faces still coated in sweets and juice, and the adults without such responsibilities were opening stronger liquor. He stood, expecting to be leaving with Duncan and Mac, but Mac sat down by Will with a glass of whiskey. He rolled his eyes. No problem, he could take Duncan home.

He approached his partner, “You staying out? Want me to take Duncan to bed?”

Mac looked up at him with a half drunk smile of pure happiness, “If you don't mind?”

He bent and kissed him, tasted the whiskey and cigarettes, “I don't mind. We'll see you in a bit.”

He scooped up a dozing Duncan and carried him home, enjoying the little nuzzles the boy gave him, mumbling sleepily, as they wound their way back through the settlement and through Will and Hancock's back garden. Or, their front garden if you looked at it from a different perspective.

He nudged the front door open and kicked his boots off before moving to Duncan's room and gently laying him down, “Night night, little duck, happy birthday.” He kissed his forehead.

“Night night, daddy.”

Xan gave him a smile and went to his and Mac's room. 
There, he allowed himself to curl in on himself. The migraine was a throbbing dangerous pain now and he groaned, letting his head fall forward into his hand. His other hand was opening a nearby drawer and pulling out an emergency Med-X. Normally, he'd wait for Mac. Wait for him to stroke through his hair and ease the pain with his smell and voice. He injected the Med-X into his own neck and sighed at the instant pain relief and brain melting loopiness. He didn't let himself get reliant on the drugs, but this one was a bad one and it had been pushing him toward nausea and panic.

He lay back on the bed diagonally from where he'd been perched on the end corner of it and shut his eyes. Soft Radstag hides soothing him as he stroked through it with half-high loose thoughts.

Five things I can see...four things I can touch...three...two...

He was woken up a while later to Mac stumbling through the door. He kicked his boots off, removed his coat and shirt and clambered onto the bed beside him. Under the smell of whiskey and bourbon and cigarettes, he could smell a bonfire. The last of the pain in his head ebbing away as the clumsy drunken fingers of his partner ghosted over his face and chest.

“Love…” Mac slurred, “Love you…” He fell into a drunken sleep almost instantly.

“Love you too, silly drunk street urchin.” Mac smiled in his sleep.

***

“Oh, fuck, Sunshine…right there .” Will looked up at him and winked, “Christ, you have such pretty eyes.”

“Mhmm.” Vibration rocked through him as his dick hit the back of his partner's throat. Skillful tongue pressing hard with the slightest danger of teeth. A finger was lazily fucking in and out of him and hitting that good spot deep inside with each pass.

They had just been coming back from Abernathy when the rain started so they'd decided to wait it out in the Red Rocket before continuing on home. They were trapped in the garage.
Trapped being a very loose word as Hancock stayed precariously balanced on an old workbench, one hand in white-blonde hair, the other gripping the edge of the bench. His legs were dangling over Will's broad shoulders as the General of the fucking Minutemen swallowed his cock like it was the last fucking snack cake on earth.
Another finger joined the first, slicked up with whatever oil they'd found in the workbench. Was it safe for this kind of use? Probably not. But Hancock didn't give a damn. That sweet pleasure/pain burn of being stretched was dulled when Will licked a long stripe up him and dipped his tongue into his slit.

“Careful, Will, or I'll be painting your pretty face with radiation.”

Will smirked, “You always give the best presents, love.”

Will stood, fingers still buried deep and working him open, and loomed over him. Hancock waited for that flicker. That warning that would cloud those pretty eyes and tell him that Will was holding back. Stopping himself from pushing too hard, from causing actual harm and injury. Part of Hancock wanted it. Wanted everything that Will was capable of giving but knew, deep down, that it would be too much. It would wreck him and not in the fun way. In the dangerous oh my God I can see a light way.
That flicker never came though. Those fingers were as gentle as the susurrus of the rain they could hear through the open door. His beautiful scarred chest heaved heavy breaths as he leaned down and kissed Hancock as though he were the most precious living thing on the planet and it stole all the air from him.

“Sunshine?”

“Hmm?” He removed his fingers and the head of his dick was poised at his hole, waiting patiently.

“What’s going on?” His head fell forward onto Will’s shoulder as that dick slowly pressed in. Inch by agonising inch, so slow, so careful. Like gently falling snow.

“What do you mean, love?” Big hands were gently running over his sides and over his thighs where they had automatically wrapped around Will’s hips.

Hancock sighed into the smooth skin of his shoulders when Will was fully seated inside him. Fully home and where he belonged, “Going very slow today, babe.”

“Thought you liked to take your time?” Will murmured into the top of his head as he stayed so still and waited for Hancock’s nod to continue.

“Yeah, but this feels…different…” He nodded and Will began to slowly move against him. A slow sweet drag out and an even slower sweeter push back in. Over and over and over. It was warm, soft, like cotton or a night of mixing Jet with Calmex. 

Damn, that sounds pretty good right about now.

His hand left Will’s neck and dug around in his red coat he was still wearing. Just the red coat and nothing else. Will liked it.
He found a hit of Jet and brought it to his mouth, Will watching him with a smirk as he carried on slowly fucking into him. He inhaled and Will brought their mouths together to share the high in the secondhand exhaled fumes, “You want this to last even longer, John?”

His head fell back as time stretched around him. It warped and Will moved even slower . He vaguely felt a hand wrap around his dick and another brush over his hip. He could feel smooth and scarred ragged skin brushing over each other. His hands melted into sturdy rippling muscle and soft hair brushed his chin as a hot mouth licked at his neck.

“I’d have this last forever, Sunshine.” He heard the hiss and rattle of another Jet inhaler dispensing and a mouth pushing the smoke into his lungs, “Damn…”
The raindrops outside were slow, hitting the ground in great colourful bubbles and dispersing out into the late afternoon sun. A rainbow. A sunshine filled spectrum of melding colour. It stained his Sunshine’s hair and skin, made him glow, made him glisten. Like an angel. His blue eyes were sparkling as the high wrapped around his own mind, watching Hancock with reverence and deep love. Sappy and clingy.

Something was in his mouth, balanced on the edge of his tongue. He passed it onto his and they shared the Daytripper pill between them. All his limbs went loose and Will carefully brought them to the ground before his legs gave out as the high took his strength. Hancock was straddling him, hands holding tight to his chest as he rocked slowly.
He couldn’t remember doing anything like this. Sure, he’d been high and fucked before. A quick scrambled mess where the person scarpered before the lights were switched back on. Used for his power. Used for quick gratification. Never like this. Slow and languid with colour and sunshine and loving ice blue eyes and a brand down a spine.
He thought back to that first night. Holed up in a random building and sharing a cigarette with this new rebel. A new revolutionary. He hadn’t shied away from his skin, the way he sounded, his ideas. He’d stood close, brushing shoulders and smiling, and touching fingertips when the cig was passed between them. He’d never loved anyone like this. He never would again. He wondered what Will had thought that first day. They had no secrets.

“Will…” his hips rocked back and forth and colour danced around him when a Mentat was gently slipped into his mouth, “that first day…what was in your head?” He could feel his muscles tensing, his dick leaking over Will’s stomach as the man breathed and sweated beneath him.

His hands held his hips and slowly pushed up into him and chased his own high tension, “Mmm…making me recall at a time like this, John? Damn…” Hancock didn’t think he was going to answer as he was flipped and pressed down into from above. So deep and full and shining from the mix of chems and loving eyes watching him. All of him. From his head to the tips of his toes and down into his soul with a smirk.
“You made me laugh. Properly, for the first time in months. Fuck, John… ” His mouth was on his collarbone, kissing and licking as he mumbled out his remembrance of that day, “You were glorious. Decked out in blood red and grinning at me like you owned the world.” His voice was sending shivers down his back and collecting tight in his belly, “ Oh, God, I’d give you the world if I could. You told me you were in charge and fuck if that didn’t send a spark through me.”

He’s called Charmer for a reason, John. Silver tongue and sweet words.

“What else, Sunshine.” This slow love-making was going to quickly come to an end if Will kept hitting that spot he was right now. Every slow thrust sent a shock-wave through him and the mouth on his neck sent shivers to meet it.

“Y-you, fuck, the look you gave me when I killed Bobbi…pure happiness and pride…I didn’t give a shit about the name down my back then. Johnathan McDonough. I wanted John Hancock. I wanted you from the moment you made me laugh. Made me feel something other than anger and worry…” His hips were moving quicker now, chasing that edge of the cliff that would bring them down from this glorious trapped moment from the rain, “When you showed me my name on your thigh…I’d never been happier. Pure fucking bliss , John. Better than anything else I’d ever seen. Love you so fucking much.” He groaned and stuttered and a heat filled Hancock’s insides. He shuddered and followed him over the edge, nails digging in and leaving red crescents in the tops of his shoulders.

You made me laugh.  

Never serious Will. Always laughing and singing and dancing. Playing with the children and dog, striking up conversation with anyone who’d lend him an ear. Flirty and playful and dangerous. And John Hancock’s.

“Love you too, Sunshine.”

***

The fight was finally over and they were picking through the dead as the Minutemen rolled through with their blue flag to claim the new settlement. It was an old lighthouse near the sea and Mac could appreciate it for what it was, even with the waves crashing dangerously below them. Tomorrow, they'd be moving on to The Slog and then, finally, home.

He finished piling up another dead body and looked around, briefly dumbfounded again at his life. He'd been a mercenary not too long ago, and now he was a member of the Minutemen. The stars on his shoulders glittered and he was called soldier . The General's personal sniper. Guard of Sanctuary.

He heard Xan calling out to a woman across the way, “Help me move him. He needs stitching. You!” He pointed at another Minuteman, “Get a space cleared and clean for treating the wounded.” He was glorious in work mode, “Get the Rad-Away!”

“Yes, Captain!” The man called back and ran to do his job. The word Captain made him shiver. 

The heat of battle still flooding through him, Mac wandered to find a quiet spot to bring himself down. The adrenaline was crashing over his nerves like the waves of the sea far below them and he just needed a smoke and peace to pull himself out and try to control his prick at the sight of Xan taking charge and being a Captain .

Will was a bad influence. The General and Hancock would fly into fights cackling and riling them all up into a sort of dance that they were all now well acquainted with. Will would get them fired and into a tempo with whatever random song was in his head.

“...Over and over we go!
Over the hills and the valleys below!
Oh, it follows, it follows me home!
And it suf-o-cates me!
Ohhhh, I can't breathe!”

A head was blown off.

“I said, ohhhhh, I can't breathe!
All I knooooooooow!
Is I forgot how to be me!
Hallelujahhhhh!”

Someone's chest had a massive hole in it after Cait slammed into them with her Power Fists.

And on it went.

He found a place where he could lean against a railing and look out at the terrifying ocean. He hated getting wet and he hated swimming. If he were meant to be in the ocean, he'd have gills. That was a good thought to make the blood leave his groin.

Why does the aftermath of a fight make someone horny?

It's not the aftermath of the fight, idiot. It's watching Lucas in the aftermath of the fight. Captain, indeed.

Thinking of Xan again was not helping the predicament between his legs. He lit a smoke and had barely brought it to his mouth when a gravelly coal-fire voice sounded behind him, “You got a spare?”

Mac looked over his shoulder. A ghoul man was standing there, blue eyed and kinda young, probably around twenty-five ish when he turned, if ghouls could look young, that is. He had a little bit of black scraggly hair peeking out from beneath a red cap. Not unattractive for a ghoul. 

Stop, brain.  

“Sure,” he handed over the smoke he'd just lit before lighting another for himself, “So, you with the Minutemen?”

The ghoul came to stand beside him, almost touching shoulders, “Yeah, I'm a scout. Told the General about this place actually. Names Kenny.” 

He held out a hand and Mac shook it, “MacCready.”

“ MacCready .” He rolled his name as he spoke and Mac's eyebrows rose, “Nice to meet you. You travel with the General a lot, don't you? Seen you around a few times. More than a few times.” Kenny leaned a little forward as he took a drag on his cig.

Mac leant back a bit, “Uh, yeah, I'm his sniper. Watch his six, ya know?”

“Mhmm.” Kenny's blue eyes looked him up and down with a smirk, “So, Mr. Sniper, what do you usually do to… unwind after a fight?”

“I…uh,” 

Kenny didn't let him answer. He surged forward and pressed his chapped mouth to MacCready's and pushed his tongue between his teeth. All the blood left his dick instantly. 

Nope nope nope nope! 

Mac tried to pull away, eyes wide as he watched Kenny's shut, but the ghoul had a grip on his coat and armour and pulled him closer, bringing his hips against Mac's thigh and rolling against him. He tried to push him away but the guy was weirdly strong and the ghoul groaned into his mouth. The hips rolled against him again. He felt that well-known flicker of fear and panic inside but he could mostly control it now. 

Fuck . 

He didn't want to hit the guy but he was going to if he had to.

He didn't have to because then the icy lilting voice of his Soulmate called out around them, “I beg your biggest fucking pardon?”

Kenny jumped back and Mac took the biggest breath of his life, “Oh, Captain! Sorry, we were just… unwinding.” He said it with a smirk as though he hadn't just had his tongue down the Captain's partner's throat. Mac realised then that the guy didn't know.

“Oh, I can see that. MacCready?” His eyes were tight at the edges, his frown deep. He was pissed. Fuck.

Mac held his hands up, “Xan, I swear I didn't. ”

Xan crossed his arms and cocked his hip to the side, blue eyes of fire like his brother's, “Uh huh?”

Kenny seemed to get the picture then, “Oh shit! I'm sorry Captain, I swear I didn't know.” He put more distance between him and Mac, “I kissed him! I swear he didn't ask for it.” 

At least he was an honest guy.

Xan glared at him and Mac felt his stomach drop into Hell, “Back to your post, MacCready.”

Mac quickly did as he was told, pausing briefly beside his man whose cold contempt filled eyes were now watching Kenny. He swallowed and went back to the body pit to help Will and Hancock.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.” He grumbled as he kicked a dead cultist into the hole.

“Whoa, brother, what would Duncan think?”

“Pretty sure he'd forgive me for that one.” 
He glanced over at where he had come from. He could just see Xan and Kenny speaking. The ghoul had kissed him, not the other way around. Why was Xan pissed at him?

“That was more than one, Mac. What's up?” Will asked as he hefted a big dead guy and rolled him to the pile. Cleaning up after a fight in a settlement or possible new settlement was always grim work, but it needed to be done.

Mac swallowed hard again. First the Captain was gonna gut him with his scalpel blade and then his General brother was gonna use those guts as decoration for his front door. 
He flapped his hands to his side and scowled down at the dead body by his feet, “Some guy just fucking kissed me and Xander fucking saw him. Now he's pissed at me as though I had anything to do with it!”

Hancock barked out a laugh, “Oh, man, that's rich! Little bit of domestic drama to end the day. Love it.” He cackled more and popped his usual after battle grape Mentat.

Will was smirking up at his Ghoul, “Remember that time that woman pressed herself against me, fuck she woulda dropped her pants right there if I asked her.”

Hancock waggled his not-there-eyebrows, sitting on a throne of dead and crossing his legs casually, “Oh, Sunshine, imagine the time I woulda had. Bless her heart, think I scared her into the Glowing Sea the way she ran.”

“How does this help me?” Mac rolled his eyes and shooed Hancock of the corpses he needed to start shifting.

“Oh, It doesn't. You gotta deal with this one on your own, Mac.” Will bobbed his head and Mac looked over his shoulder and felt his heart kick up in anxiety.

Xan was approaching with a face like the thunder in a rad storm. He got closer and jerked his head, “With me, MacCready.” He hated it when he used his full last name. MacCready. He only did it when he was really pissed off (which was rare, thankfully) or if they were around strangers.
He heard Hancock and Will chuckle as he followed Xan into the tree line and turned to flip them off. They only laughed harder.

After walking a solid five minutes down through the trees in nauseating silence and onto the beach at the base of the cliffs that held the lighthouse, Xan whirled on him, “What the actual fuck, Robert.”

“I swear I didn't do anything!”

“Yeah, you didn't do anything. You let him kiss you!”

“I didn't let him do anything! It just happened. I tried to push him off but he was weirdly strong.” Xan frowned at him, “I promise. I didn't just let it happen.”

He looked less annoyed but still not pleased, “He was so strong he could just hold you still?”

“Yeah, please Luke, I wouldn't do that to you. You know that, right?” He took a step toward him. He didn't mind Lucas being possessive. He was too. But not when he was swearing up and down that he hadn't just let another person on him.

He glared at the ground, “Well? What would've happened if I hadn't shown up?”

Mac groaned, “I was about to hit the guy, Luke! I don't know how else to say it. I didn't just let it happen. Please, I wouldn't lie to you.” How else could he explain himself? Prove that he didn't want the ghoul to kiss him?

Xan took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. He nodded at him then and closed the gap between them, “Yeah, I know. Sorry. I was just a bit shocked I think. I'm not good at sharing.”

He breathed in relief as Xan's head came to rest against his collar bone, “I don't want to be shared. We okay?”

“We'll always be okay, Robbie. Sorry.”

“What did you do with him?” He let his hands stroke up Xan's arms and enjoyed the little shudder it got from him.

“Hmm? Oh, just gave him a stern telling off for fraternising with the Captain's man.” He leaned into his touch further.

“Oh, the Captain's man, am I?” That word did wonders for his brain. His hands were stroking down his back now, fingers dipping beneath his armour straps.

“Mhmm,” Xan's eyes were shut and his face was flushing, “Show me if you can stop me moving like he did.”

“Yes, sir .”

Mac pushed Xan up against the cliff wall and pinned his arms above his head with one hand, his knee slipping between his legs, “It was kinda hot, thinking back on it.”

“Mm?” Mac's mouth was busy at Xan's neck.

“Yeah, but like…in an objective way,” His hips rolled against his thigh as Mac pressed harder, “oh, fuck, Rob.” He squirmed but Mac held him still. He had the height and weight advantage and Xan was so easy to hold down. So pliant and trusting and willing for him to take control. 

His free hand moved down to undo his belt and Xan moaned loudly as his fingers wrapped around him, giving him a firm stroke as he hardened in his palm. He let go to undo his own pants and pushed his dick against his lovers. Xan whined in his ear and Mac sucked at his neck, bruising him and marking him as his.

He let go of his arms, “Get on your knees, Captain .”

“Fuck.” Xan dropped instantly into the sand onto his hands and knees and Mac knelt behind him. He pulled the pants over his arse and palmed at his cheeks.

He reached around to Xan's face and pressed his fingers against his mouth, “Wet them.” Xan nodded and sucked his fingers into his mouth. The shock shot down his spine and made his dick twitch against Xan's arse. He groaned and rolled against him.

He pulled his fingers out of his mouth and quickly brought them to the tight ring of muscle. He pushed in fast and Xan quivered beneath him.
He had his hip and pushed it forward to open him up wider, knees sliding in the sand. Xan's face and chest met the ground and he panted as Mac worked him open. He curled his fingers as he pulled them out and spit into his hand.
Xan was watching him, face half covered in sand, eyes so dilated they were almost black. He wet his dick and pushed in hard, pinning Xan below him as he curled over and placed his hands on his back, fingers dipping in underneath armour to feel the tense coiled muscle. 
He was shaking and making breathy little noises, “You good, Luke?” He managed as his hips met his cheeks. His lover liked it hard a lot of the time but he still made the effort to make sure it wasn't hurting.

“Yeah, fucking fuck. Fucking move already.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Xan moaned deep as he pulled almost all the way out before slamming back into him. Over and over again until he went into a shaking sobbing mess beneath him, “Please…please let me cum…” 

MacCready was already so close that the words sent him over the edge. He spilled into him thrusting jerkily to milk himself dry. He pulled out and flipped Xan over. He was overstimulated and clawing at the sand, dick still hard and leaking with lack of attention. Mac bent quickly and took him into his mouth. The release was almost instant, just a few rough sucks and his mouth was filled with thighs shaking beside his head.

Hands were stroking in his hair and he knelt up to look down at Xan, “That hot was it?” He grinned and helped him pull up his pants. 
They stood on shaking legs with silly grins as they brushed the damp sand off each other.

“Well, no, only you can do that to me.”

They went and rejoined the efforts of getting the new settlement ready for the night. The random strangers kiss forgotten.

***

They were curled up in the little house for guests in The Slog, Xan pulled firmly to his chest and his fingertips trailing lazy patterns on his belly.

They were going home after the last few weeks of effort in getting settlements resupplied and he couldn't wait. Couldn't wait to see Duncan, who'd been staying with Piper and Nat, and have real privacy and just sit in their living room. He wanted to watch Xan unwind and read with his legs tucked up beneath him by the window. He wanted to watch him wash their son's hair and tuck him into bed. 

He nuzzled his face into the space between Xan's shoulder blades, breathing in his sleeping warmth. He was just about to nod off, safe in the knowledge that they were behind walls and under guard, when he heard a hushed but serious conversation happening nearby.

“Really? You really wanna do this right now, Sunshine?” The blood and gravel voice of Hancock was just on the other side of the wall.

“Well, why not, John?” Will replied, his deep timber travelling easily in the near silence of the settlement, “Why not now?”

“I’d prefer a bit more privacy for this, Will.”

“Oh no, I'm not Sunshine anymore.”

Hancock growled, low and angry, “Fucks sake." A heavy pregnant pause, "You can't just drop something like that and expect me to brush it off.” There was a dangerous edge to his voice and Mac wondered if he should cover his ears or something, “You said it before in Jamaica Plain and you've just done it again, what gives?”

“What do you mean what gives ? It was just a joke.”

“A joke? I'm a joke to you?” Hancock had a cold laugh when he was upset.

“You know that's not true, sweetheart. I didn't know it bothered you.”

“Well it does! I don't know if you're serious or not.”

“How can you not know I'm serious? My name is scrawled over your thigh, all your stuff is at our house, I've only been with you since I fucking woke up, I've told you I love you. I'm gonna walk with you until the day I die . How is that not serious?”

“Because you say all that shit with the stupid shit eating smirk and a fucking wink all the time, Will. You wanna be serious? Then be fucking serious.” He heard shuffling and a hard clipped, “Let fucking go of me. Stop grabbing!”

Then the stomping of heavy boots, and the closing of the guest house's door. A loud thud rattled the wall behind him and a quiet, “Fucks sake” came from Will.

Xan stirred beneath him and he whispered, “I've never heard them argue before.”

Just as quietly he whispered back, “Me either. Feels super weird. Wonder what it was about?” It felt like what he imagined kids felt like when they heard their parents argue.

“Will's an idiot. I know he's serious with Hancock but he treats most things as a joke. He's probably said something he means to be a big thing but it's come out stupid.”

“What you reckon it was?” He pulled Xan closer to him again as they settled back into the warm cosiness.

“Probably something like marriage or something, knowing him. Bloody bleeding heart.” He yawned and relaxed against Mac.

MacCready's brain did that silly little fizzing thing it did whenever someone brought up anything like that kind of commitment. Would Xan want to get married? They were already pretty bloody committed. Branded on each other and with a kid at home. Did a ring matter? A piece of paper?

Will's voice echoed in his head. It was something he'd said offhandedly and jokingly ages ago now.

So, is it gonna be MacCready-Rake or Rake-MacCready?

***

He'd spent a grand total of three days back at home with his partner and kid before Will took them back on the road again.

He, Hancock, Curie, Danse, Deacon, and Cait were sitting around a little place called Covenant whilst Will spoke with the people that lived there. The people rubbed them all the wrong way. They stared and whispered behind their hands at each other. He ignored them and thought of home. Xan and Duncan waving him off with big smiles and promises to be good. Xan had told him that he was going to make the wiring in their home better whilst he was gone and see if he could rig actual hot water to come out of their taps. He couldn't wait to go home. But, he had a job to do and he was good at it. He was an actual soldier now, dressed in the stars of the Minutemen, following his General around and getting paid for proper honest work. 

That honest work became a bit murky in Covenant.

They'd eaten and gone to sleep in the guest bunkhouse the settlement had set up and then woken up in cages underground. His mouth tasted awful and Hancock groaned beside him, “What the fuck? How high did we get, Mac?”

“We didn't get high, Hancock.” Their weapons and bags were gone. Pockets, empty.

“Huh, coulda fooled me.” They sat up in their little cage and tried to look through the gloom of the darkness around them, “Can you see Will?”

“Nah, I can't see sh- anything.”

“Hello?” It was Deacon's voice, “Anyone there?”

“Deek!?” Cait answered him, “Wha’ the feck is happening?” The noise of a cage rattling not too far away from him and Hancock.

“Does anyone have a lock pick?” Danse called out, “Where's Will and Curie?”

“Can't see or hear them, brother.” Hancock answered.

“Hancock! Is Mac with you?”

“Yeah, I'm here.”

“Where the hell are we and why does my mouth taste like a Brahmin took a shit in it?”

“We were drugged.”

A light flicked on and it almost blinded him. He pulled his hat down low to shield his eyes and looked around. They were in a round opening of a cave, their cages in a loose circle facing the center of it. Mac strained against the bars of the cage as he saw a crazy looking woman in a lab coat standing over a still unconscious, partially naked except for pants, Will and Curie. They were strapped down to chairs and the woman had a tray of sharp tools nearby.

“Will! Sunshine!” Hancock was rattling the cage.

“Curie!” One of their friends shouted, “What the fuck are you doing to them!?”

The woman hovering over their friends looked around at them. Her eyes were cold and her skin had a yellow cast to it, “Don't worry, you'll all get a turn.” She turned and picked up a scalpel. Not a clean sharp blade like Xan's, this one was rusted dull and stained with old blood, “We shall not suffer Synths to live.”

She held the blade near Will's wrist and Hancock raged beside him, “Get the fuck away from him! Don't you fucking dare! I'll rip your fucking spine out!”

All the cages were rattling as they tried to break free. Angry shouting and curses flew through the air and then Hancock screamed as the blade met Will's wrist and dug in. Blood pooled beneath it and began to steadily drip to the floor.

Will jerked awake at the pain, his face groggy but quickly registering what was happening to him, “Who the fuck are you? Ow! Get the fuck off me! Hancock! John!”

“Will!”

His eyes met Hancock's, he blinked once...twice...and then MacCready had never seen anger like it. His blue eyes were like fire. A cold cold rage that flickered and burned. Roiling and swirling up from somewhere deep in his soul. His head snapped round to the woman who was slowly dragging the scalpel deep up his arm, “You put them in fucking cages!? You put John in a fucking cage!?” 

The General didn't seem to fully register the scalpel anymore as it tore through his skin.

He strained against the straps holding him down; huge muscles popping in his bare chest and arms, ripping themselves apart, blood spurting out the long deep cut in his right arm, before the bindings on his left arm snapped. The woman stumbled back, holding her scalpel aloft as though that would stop the huge man from tearing his way out of the chair, “You stupid fucking crazy bitch. You put my people in cages? For what? Why is Curie half naked !?” His anger rolled out of him and filled the cave with cold dark energy.

“We cannot allow Synths to wander this earth.” She gurgled as Will grabbed her by the neck, his arm spilling blood like a thick red waterfall.

“We're not Synths you stupid cow.” He snapped her neck with one hand. He spun quickly and stumbled. He'd gone very dangerously pale as his blood kept pouring, “Curie…Curie, I need…first aid…” he stumbled over to her, tripping a little and clattering into the table of rusted surgical implements. 
The small, actually a synth, woman was still asleep as whatever drugs they'd been given worked their way through her system. Will tipped dangerously before bracing himself over her. Clumsy slipping fingers unfastened the straps pinning her down before he simply collapsed onto the ground. His head cracked loudly against the floor and there was an awful strained silence before Hancock screamed again.

All they could do is watch as their General slowly bled out and listen to Hancock screaming and crying and straining against the bars of the cage. It felt like it went on for hours and hours. Will was going to die and there was literally nothing they could do. The red pool beneath him spread slowly, his breathing was barely there. Hancock stopped screaming eventually and just slumped against MacCready to cry. His fingers were bleeding from where he'd scratched at the bars.
It was deathly quiet for a long time, only broken by the stifled whimpers from the Ghoul pressed against his shoulder.

“What ez ‘appening…” the slurred heavy accent of Curie was like a siren's song. They all looked up at her and the rattling began again.

“Curie! Oh my fucking God! Get Will! Will!”

Hancock resumed his shouting with gusto, “Sunshine! Curie's awake! Curie help him!”

The small synth woman stood quickly on wobbling legs, covering her bare chest for a moment with her big brown eyes taking them all in before falling to the prone form of Will, “Oh, General! Oh my!” 
She rolled him and Mac wanted to be sick. He was so so pale. Lips blue at the edges and covered in thick red blood. He desperately wanted Xan to be here. Xan would fix him in a heartbeat.

Curie quickly assessed him, hands fluttering over his pulse point and the deep wound to his arm. There was definitely a nicked artery or vein. It spurted sluggishly as the arm was moved. Curie took her belt off and tied it tight above the wound before she stood and looked through the room. It was a semi-lab semi-autopsy space and she found bandages, chems, and a Stimpak, “There is no needles or threads. Non.” She was frowning as she came back to Will. She wiped the excess blood away from the weeping wound and clucked her tongue, “‘E needs stitching…” 
She administered a looted Med-X and Stimpak and the bleeding slowed somewhat but it wasn't enough to heal the arm and whatever major damage lay within.
“What is his blood type?” She looked up at them and then they all looked at Hancock who shrugged. His face was wet, “No matter, I will do what I can, oui?” 
She pushed the edges of the wound together with her knees and then tightly wrapped the bandages around it, “We need to find my bag. I have more Stimpaks, I theenk. We need to get ‘ome…to the clinic. We ‘ave blood there. Needles and threads.” Lucas .

She stood and found the keys to the cages and they flew into action.
Curie and Cait, who covered Curie with her jacket, stayed with Will as the rest made their way out of the cave to head to Covenant, “I will keep ‘im alive for as long as I can but you must ‘urry.”

Hancock was very fast and very angry. Mac, Deacon and Danse had to sprint their hardest to keep up with him, “What's the plan, Hancock?” Deacon asked as they paused not far away from the walls of Covenant.

“Dunno about you, Deek, but I'm gonna go hurt people that need hurting.” 

Hancock didn't bother with the gate, he simply scrambled up the wall and hopped over. The turrets started to chug and fire and then there was loud and panicked screaming. 

Ghoul! Feral ghoul!

Danse and Mac quickly took out the distracted guards who had performed their test on the way into town and looted the guns available, chucking a shotgun over to Deacon who was working at getting the gate open. There was a boom beyond the wall.
Hancock had a gun.

The gate swung open and they piled in, guns raised and firing indiscriminately into the “settlers”. They were kidnappers and murderers. Who knows how many people this town had killed. They fought back and MacCready ignored the blooming pain to his leg as he fought. He caught sight of Hancock chasing someone up a dark alley before he returned quickly, dripping in viscous thick liquid, dark in the low light. He really did look feral. Vengeful. Red coat flying out behind him like a revolutionary cape of blood.

They approached the main house in a line, covered in blood and sporting a few wounds of their own, Hancock began singing.

"I don't want to set the world on fire…”

He booted the door down and flew in. More people fell to the enraged Ghoul and his friends.

“In my heart I have one desire…”

Mac could hear the blood in his throat as the last person fell.
Hancock opened the locked cage with their things in and they quickly grabbed everything before running out of Covenant and towards the cave.

“And that one is you, no other will do…”

***

Xan had been cleaning the clinic up and distracting himself with Mac's present. He'd made it himself and was mostly pleased with the results but it definitely wasn't perfect. He wasn't an artist.
A little toy wooden soldier, carved and painted as carefully as he was able: green clothes, a little tiny goatee, brown hair, and a black rifle. He hoped he liked it and felt oddly nervous about giving it to him.

He was just about ready to close and go home, when a group of Minutemen clattered through the door with Will, Mac, Hancock, and their family held between them in various states of disrepair. Curie was fussing over them and Xan took a deep breath before going into that place in his mind where this was just work and not his dying family members. Again.

Cait, Deacon, and Danse were bundled to one side of the room. Cait grumbling about psycho settlers and mad scientists with Kenzie and Curie checking them over and giving them the attention they needed. They were all covered in blood. 

Xan blinked once, twice, counted quickly in his head and then turned to his brother, partner, and Hancock. He triaged.

Hancock had a few bullet wounds that were thankfully in and out and a few knife wounds that were still weeping. He seemed more pissed off than dangerously hurt. He’d live after a bit of cleaning and Stimpaks.
Mac had a bullet wound to the thigh and was pale from blood loss. He watched him with a worried face, eyes flickering over to Will every now and then. He'd need a blood pack.

Will was more pale than he'd ever seen him. And that was saying something. A thick red stained bandage was wrapped tightly up his arm where it was topped with Curie’s belt. A nasty gash and bump to the head. He was unconscious.

He breathed deep again and gathered O+ blood packs, gauze, needles and thread, alcohol, Stimpaks, and Med-X. He'd start with Will.

He checked his pulse. Weak and thready. But there. He ignored all around him as he undid the belt and dirty bandage. A ragged deep cut trailed from wrist to bicep. The wound weeped through partially clotted blood as the pressure was released. This had happened more than a few hours ago. Where had they been? He shook the question away, it wasn't helpful, and got to work. 
He moved up the arm, following the flow of red, looking for the cut vein or artery that was still bleeding slowly. Too slowly. He'd lost too much blood. He found it just inside his bicep and checked the damage. A small but pulsating hole in a vein leaking his life blood out. 

He grabbed his thread and the thinnest curved needle he had and brought it to the vein. He distantly heard Hancock shake out a breath but ignored him. He held the edges of the hole in the vein together and carefully, as though he was sewing tissue paper, closed the hole. One stitch. Two stitch. Three stitch. Tie it off. He watched it for a moment to make sure it didn't split before nodding and moving on. 
He'd have to leave the bicep open for now so he could remove the thread in a day or two. No dissolving stitches in the nuclear apocalypse.
He double checked the rest of the major veins and arteries he could see and was thankful that no more were damaged. He stitched his brother's arm up to the elbow and bound it in clean cloths and bandages. 

He paused at the bicep and frowned. The Stimpak would try and close it, trapping the thread inside and causing infection down the line. He grabbed a clean steel tool he normally would use to press down people's tongues to check their throats and lay it between the ragged edges of the wound. It stuck out like a knife but it couldn't be helped. He wrapped carefully around it before administering the Stimpak and Med-X to keep him loopy and unconscious.

He checked the wound to his head. Nothing too bad and it would heal with the Stimpak. His unconsciousness was caused by blood loss, not concussion.
Finally, he hooked up the baggie of blood, primed the line, and stuck it into Will. Sighing as the life giving fluid slowly trickled into him. He would need another before the night was done.

He turned to Mac and Hancock and checked them over again. Stitching where needed, cleaning here and there, and wrapping their wounds before also administering Stimpaks, Med-X, and another blood pack into Mac.

Then, he sat, hands wiping off his family's blood onto a damp cloth, “So. What happened?”

Hancock grumbled as he carefully lay down beside Will, eyes fluttering with the Med-X and hooking a ravaged arm over Will's belly as he growled out, “Some crazy fucks drugged us and locked us into cages. They had Will and Curie in these, like, torture chairs? A woman cut your brother…” he was clearly very upset, and also high, so Xan turned his attention to Mac who continued the story.

“When she cut him. Well, you saw how deep it was. He woke up and broke out the chair. He's gonna be so sore…” Mac took a deep breath and swayed where he sat. Xan stood and held him, pulling him close and letting him lean against his chest, “We watched him collapse and couldn't do anything, Luke. We were lucky that Curie woke up when she did. We got here as quick as we could…dragged him all night…” He carefully stroked Mac's hair as he started to drift off with the pain relief.

“And the people that did this?” Xan murmured.

It was Hancock who answered. A deep rumbling and lingering anger as he rested his cheek on top of Will's head, “We killed them all.”

It was days later, Will was recovered and back to his usual self, if a little shadowed by Hancock who now barely left his side. They were chatting and laughing in the noon day sun, when his PipBoy clicked .

Everyone paused and looked to him. His hands were shaking as he checked the frequency.

The Courser signal had finally popped.

***

Comments, suggestions, and hopes and dreams welcome <3

Chapter Text

They left that same day. Will, Hancock, Mac, Deacon, and Cait. 

Long goodbyes were said at the gate between friends and family and Mac had stood with Xan and Duncan. This mission was dangerous and he took all the time he could hugging and breathing them both in, “Be safe.” Xan had said to him and handed over a little homemade wooden soldier with a smile, “Run away if you have to. Don't stop running till you come home.”

“Bye dad. I'll draw you a picture! I’ll look after daddy.” 

He told them he loved them and walked away, holding his new favourite thing to his chest before tucking it into his front pocket, right by his heart. Duncan and Xan stood, holding hands and waving him off.
He followed the General over the bridge, keeping an eye over his shoulder and watching his friends and family until the gate shut.

They walked and walked and walked. Following the click of the PipBoy. They walked through the night, Will not willing to risk losing the signal and the chance he'd been waiting for for months. 

“What's the plan after we kill this thing?” Cait whispered.

Deacon whispered back, hand on her back, “We take the chip to Tinker at the Railroad, see if he can get the information of how to get to the Institute off it.”

Mac saw Will and Hancock frown and glance at each other, “What?” He asked.

Will frowned even deeper before sighing and rubbing his face, “I know how they get in and out of the Institute. Have done since the Memory Den. That’s why we need this chip…for the tech…”

Deacon spluttered, “You know!? Well, why haven’t we gone there already!? Let’s go get the Railroad! Let's just go bust down the front door and get your son, man.” Cait was nodding along, eager as always for a fight.

“It’s not that simple. I would've done that already otherwise. We still don’t know where the place is and there isn’t going to be a front door , Deek.” He blew through his nose, “They fucking teleport.”

“Pardon?”

“Like out of some crazy science fiction story! They fucking teleport. Zip around the Commonwealth with this blue electric light thing…I don’t know how to do that. We need the chip for the relay code or something and then the actual tech to be able to get inside the place.”

“Shoulda brought Xan…” Mac mumbled.

“I don’t even think that know-it-all could build me a teleporter, Mac. Not without the plans and blueprints for whatever they use.”

They continued to chat as they trekked. Mostly about nothing and sometimes about what kinds of other tech the Institute may have. Just filling the time and attempting to distract from the quickly annoying click of the PipBoy. If they weren’t going after a Courser, Mac might’ve enjoyed himself. The conversation turned to an interesting topic then, Will’s life before the bombs dropped.

“So, Charmer, I know you were in the army before everything went to shit. But, what did you actually do?” Deacon had his usual easy going smile on his face, arm linked with Cait's as she kicked at the ground as they walked.

Will smiled as he thought, “Oh, not much, really. It feels like another life now. A dream. Want the short or the slightly longer story?”

Cait scoffed, “We ain’t got anything else to do, may as well tell us the long story.”

“Okay, where to start?” He looked around as if searching for inspiration, “Well, I guess I’ll start from when Xander was born. Hancock already knows I was days away from going to boot camp to start my training when he came into the world. I almost didn’t leave because of him, he was so little and I loved him instantly. But, the training was only at Hagen so I could come home on the weekends.” 

Mac couldn’t imagine Xan as a baby, or Will as a teen. They seemed like they were born adults to him. Just born ready for life and all that they had done so far. Will raised for killing, Lucas raised for healing. Two sides of the same chipped fucked up coin, “During my training, they found that I was very good at being…single mindedly focused on taking down the enemy. That’s how they put it. Just a polite way of saying I’m very good at killing.”

The image of Will snapping that woman's neck in the cave with one hand flickered in his brain. The knife severing Barnes' hand, a Gunners head not being there anymore, the cultists at the lighthouse dying with arms missing, guts and sinew and blood rain.
And music.

“I’ll say.” Hancock laughed around a breath of Jet.

“They put me into lead squad of others like me. We were put onto the front lines as intimidation. These huge hulking men that growled and snarled and could pull you apart with their hands as easily as they could with a knife.” He rolled his shoulders to readjust his bag, “I think they were putting something in our food? Made us bigger, stronger, and meaner. We enjoyed battle. Flying in and dancing in blood rain.”

“Uh, you still do that, boss.”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “well, it was conditioned into me. My dad was so proud. I was just like him. I couldn’t even feel it when I got hurt. This one,” He brushed the long scar over his nose, “Some guy sliced me with a knife so deep they thought I was gonna lose my nose. I didn’t even register it until the fighting had stopped. I was gonna be in the army forever. Me and my squad. I’d come home to Xan after he’d moved in with me and raise him then go out again to fight. I was actually preparing for a speech at a Veterans gala the day the bombs dropped. I’d only been home a week after doing a quick tour to rile up new recruits.” 
He smiled around at them, “Now I’m here. Still fighting. Still in the army. Our army.” 

Hancock looped an arm over his hips. Will started singing.

They followed the signal south-east, stopping only briefly to rest and eat. It was dark when they arrived at the old CIT ruins, the area was quiet. Too quiet.

They looked around, the clicking on the PipBoy a constant steady background noise.

Click

Click 

Click

It felt like the air was breathing around them. The warm night, muggy with the steaming river nearby, made them sweat as they trudged a loop around the ruins. The building that was usually overrun with Super Mutants was eerily silent. Crows lined the windows.

Click

Click 

Click

Mac looked through his scope in a wide circle around them. It must be here somewhere. It had to be. They were debating on scaling the building to get a better vantage point but they’d stand out like black smudges on the old white walls. They were being stealthy, hoping to shoot down the Courser as soon as they spotted it.

What did a Courser even look like? Would it look like a person? A robot? An Assaultron or Protectron?

They were near the water of the Charles River. Cait sat to rest, Hancock was checking his chems, Deacon wiped the sweat from his brow and readjusted his sunglasses. Will continued in a slow circular path, eyes and fingers on the little computer on his wrist. Mac was just about to sit down and light a smoke when the PipBoy went nuts.

ClickClickClickClickClickClickClickClickClickClick

He felt the hair raise beneath his hat, a tingling on his skin, electric in the air. The smell of Ozone filled his nose and a great and terrible blue light appeared between them and Will, blocking him from view. Hancock was on his feet in less than a second and they all made to run toward their General.

Then, the blue light disappeared and a man in all black was standing before them. Black hair was pulled into a low ponytail but they couldn't see the face. He was facing Will who was standing dumbfounded, mouth open, before he shut it quickly and made for his gun. They followed suit and the Courser ran .

It shoulder checked Will and sprinted away. So fucking fast that even Hancock could feel his legs and lungs burning as they tried to keep up. They ran and ran. Ignoring a camp of raiders as they tore through, ignoring a pack of rabid dogs, into the built up ruins of Cambridge.

ClickClickClickClickClickClickClickClickClickClick

They saw it disappear into a large building called Greenetech Genetics and heard the screaming and shooting coming from within. Will held up his arm and they stopped, pulling in great breaths and resting their hands on their knees. Will quickly handed out water for them to chug.

“Okay, we go in quick and quiet. It obviously knows we’re here but hopefully it's distracted by whatever else is in there.” He pulled out five box shaped items, “Here, pop them when we get inside. We’ll sneak through and put a bullet in it.”

Mac accepted the Stealth-Boy and held it to his chest as he followed them inside.

The bodies of Gunners were everywhere. Some completely torn apart, some with laser burns and bullet wounds, some gurgling and crying as they slowly faded into nothingness. One Courser had done this. One Courser torn through them like they were nothing. Tissue paper. Children.
Mac felt a small amount of pity for them before he clamped it down. Fuck them . Gunners were rapists and murderers. They deserved to die like the feral dogs they were.

“Okay,” Will said again as he had a finger on the button of his Stealth-Boy, “hold hands so we don’t lose each other. Don’t speak unless absolutely necessary. Don’t fight unless we have to. Courser is top priority. We can kill the rest of the Gunners, if there’s any left, on the way out. Yes?”

“Yes, boss.”

“Yeah, Sunshine.”

“Gotcha, Charmer.”

“Let’s fucking kill this thing.”

The Stealth-Boys popped and they all quickly grabbed onto each other. Mac wasn’t sure whose hands he was holding but it didn’t really matter. They were a grounding point of contact as his skin and clothing disappeared before his eyes. It was disconcerting and made him feel like a ghost. Like he wasn't really there anymore. He could feel the toy soldier against his chest and a hand tugged on him.
They made their way through the building that was rapidly becoming a tomb.

“The Coursers on the second floor! Kill-On-Sight. Send reinforcements to the lobby in case there are more.” The crackle of a voice filtering through the speakers made him jump but the tug on his hand kept him moving.

They moved up. The Gunners were filling an open light space with dead planted trees. They paused together and checked the area. Turrets and maybe twelve scared and riled Gunners.

The hand tugged and they moved silently over a walkway. He ducked as a Gunner drew close, dark eyes scanning the area behind them and grumbling about fucking synths. Mac couldn't help but agree with the guy.

They filed down a dark corridor, staying in the shadows and ducking into doorways as Gunners walked this way and that. It was tense and Mac could feel his muscles cramping with adrenaline. In the time he had spent with the General, they had never walked past a Gunner and let them live. Like the voice over the speaker had said: Kill-On-Sight. It felt wrong. But, Will had said they'd take them out later. Battle blood pounded in his ears.

They found some stairs rigged with grenades. The voice crackling over the speakers instructing the Gunners to block stairs and corridors. He saw the tension trigger snap and the grenades disappear into thin air.

Someone stumbled up a step and gasped loudly. They paused as still as ghosts in the dark.

He heard Will hiss, “Okay?” Gunshots above them covering his single word.

“Yeah.” Cait whispered back.

The invisible hands tugged and he followed. Up and up they moved. Dodging and weaving past Gunners and turrets. Mac wanted to start fighting now but understood the need to conserve themselves and their supplies for the Courser. It would be a bit of a struggle to get back out though. Or would it? They were primed and ready for this. Trained for this specific moment in Will's quest to find his son. Every fight they'd had, every settlement they'd won, every dance they'd performed. All for this. For their General and his son.

They had to climb through a hole in the ceiling, separating for a moment so that they could use their hands, before linking back up and pausing. Directly in front of them were three Gunners blocking the path. There would be no way they could squeeze through, they were standing shoulder to shoulder and talking quietly. The hand holding his left removed itself. 

The three Gunners dropped as their throats turned into red fountains all at once. The hand found his again and they moved on.

“We've lost contact with sectors two and four!”

On and on it went. Soaking in the silent tension as they stealthed through. It was building in his head and threatened to snap. The boil in his blood singing to him.
A metal clang ahead of them sounded as a door opened to a single Gunner who was quickly tucking himself back into the pants. They paused and waited for him to move, “Damn…feel like I’m being watched…” More gunshots ahead and above them.

The speaker crackled again, “Fall back to your original positions! The Courser is nearing the elevator!”

The Gunner ahead of them snapped into action and was running right for them. Mac pushed himself up against the wall and felt the Gunner trip on his foot, “Wha -” Mac clamped a hand over his mouth and nose and pushed. Pushed and pushed and pushed. The Gunner’s legs were kicking as he clawed at the invisible force above him. A momentary relief for his strained nerves and the accumulated adrenaline. A small victory for this dance.

“Give my regards to Winlock and Barnes.” He hissed into his ear and the Gunner went still.

They squeezed through a hole in the wall and the corridor and adjoining rooms were eerily quiet. More gunfire could be heard overhead and the speaker started up again, “The Courser is after the girl! Anyone alive needs to get up to the top floor immediately! That's an order!”

“We have maybe five minutes before the Stealth-Boys run out, let’s move.” Will whispered.

It was less than five minutes. Slowly, his friends rematerialised around him as they moved up some stairs. No longer ghosts in shadow. Faces tense as they too fought with the need to fight their way through for Will.

Deacon paused for a moment as he disabled a laser trip-wire, “They have a girl? Hostage, maybe?”

“Maybe, let’s be quick. Kill anything that moves.” Order given. Safety off. Will pulled out his gun, “Damn, I was really hoping we’d get to the Courser before he could see us again…”

“Ups and downs, Sunshine. Ups and downs.” He was smiling as he checked the shells in his shotgun. 

Will led them forward as quickly as he could without just charging into danger. They moved up the stairway, Deacon pointing out another laser tripwire there as Will looted the grenades it was rigged to explode. He hooked them on his pants and followed the staircase to the top. 

There was a room to their left with a red dirty carpet and more Gunners. Mac peeked in and fired a shot at the mine on the roof and blue arcing light streaked across the room, frying the small handful of Gunners there. Sweet glorious relief.
They waited a few moments for the sparks to stop.

“Nice spot, Trickshot.” Deacon hummed with approval.

“Thanks.” He murmured and they entered the room.

The white door ahead was where they needed to push through and Hancock went to open it before he was stopped by Will sitting on the ground. They all followed suit and sat down for a moment, letting their nerves cool. They wouldn’t be able to linger too long with so many Gunners running the floors beneath them, but they needed a breather. Needed to cool their blood and think about their next move.

“How’s everyone doing?” Will's voice was tight. He wanted to sing and dance. Wanted to cause chaos. Rebel. Revolt. Fight. Be as red as Hancock's coat.

“Oh, just peachy.” Cait flopped down and chugged some water that was handed to her. They were all sweating with the exertion of walking and running in a crouch for so long. Mac thought his thighs would never recover. Blood cooled.

“I’m regretting not bringing Curie.” Will mumbled as Hancock rubbed his arm absently, dispersing the coiled energy in his muscles, “What if one of us gets shot? Fucking stabbed of something? Fucking idiot. Why didn’t I bring a fucking medic?”

Hancock shrugged, “We have Stimpaks. They’ll hold us over if the worst happens. Or, ya know, don’t get shot or stabbed, Sunshine.” Will huffed a laugh at that. Tension gone.

A sudden aching pang went through MacCready and he missed Xan terribly all of a sudden. Will could’ve brought him, he was silent even casually and was a miracle worker with medicine and tech. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Xan just pushed a button and the Courser switched off. His hand held his front pocket with his new toy soldier nestled inside. He had a bad feeling and it crawled over him, “ Fuck… ” It was a whisper but Deacon looked round at him shocked.

“Language, Mr. MacCready.”

“What’s up, Mac?” Cait nudged his shoulder with her own.

“Missing our medic.” He said blandly and Will huffed again with a quiet shoulda brought a fucking medic .

Will opened the white door and they were met with a sudden wall of bullets. They ducked for cover and waited for a quiet moment to open fire themselves. It was a continuous back and forth that slowly ate away at their ammo reserves. Will shouted, “Cover us!” and he and Cait flew around the cover and into the battle with a strangled annoyed sound from Hancock.

With Will and Cait up close and personal with a razor wired bat and a dangerous looking dagger, the attention of the Gunners was split and MacCready could start picking them off. Will finally started singing again, riling them all up with its tempo as they fell into their easy flow of battle. Blood rain. Dance. MacCready's brain briefly told him again that Will was a bad influence.

“There’s a drumming noise inside my head that starts when you’re around,”  

A Gunner was thrown over the staircase that was past the door to be met by a bat to the face.

“I swear that you should hear it, it makes such an almighty sound,”  

Hancock flew in then, shotgun blasting some poor saps leg off.

“There’s a drumming noise inside my head that throws me to the ground,”  

A clean shot through the eye for another.

“I swear that you should hear it, it makes such an almighty sound!”

The battle was easing off now. Mac could see that Cait was bleeding from a split lip and knuckles, Hancock had a limp, and he and Deacon emerged out of cover, rifles cocking as they reloaded.

“Louder than sirens, louder than bells,
Sweeter than Heaven and hotter than Hell!”

His boot went through the remaining Gunners skull and he spun on his heel to assess them. Stimpaks were injected and the elevator button was pressed.

“I fucking hate elevators.”

Deacon chuckled, “We know, Charmer.”

They entered the elevator. Will groaned beside Mac and the big man shut his eyes. Hancock gripped his hand. The elevator chugged to a dangerous sounding stop and spilled them out into a dark short hallway. Mac could see spotlights moving in a round room beyond with a large metal cage in the center. He heard Hancock chuckle, “See, Will, not so bad.” Will just gently pushed him with his usual shit-eating grin.

The room was filled with computers and locked cages. He spied two fusion cores in the central round cage that seemed to hold the main loom of wiring for the building. They’d come back for them. It was so quiet.

Or, it was until they found their way to a brightly lit large circular room and a man could be heard screaming from somewhere above them, “I don't know the password! I'm telling the truth!”

A cold voice monotonous that raised the hair on Mac's neck replied, “ I don't believe you are.”

“Oh God! Please! No!”

The crackle of a laser rifle rang out with a scream and the cold voice said, “All he had to do was give me the password. Now, are you going to cooperate?”

Another panicked voice started praying, “Oh God…oh God…okay okay! Don't shoot me! Just let me think!” Another shot cut him off.

They were sneaking around the edges of the room. Will's eyes, cold and lit with blue fire, were furious. He didn't do hostages. Didn't do torture. You were either alive or dead to the General.

“I'm going to get in there. It's just a matter of time. Tell me the password.”

“I already told you I don't have it!” Another man shouted, “I'll help you find a way in. But, look, we took the girl fair and square. We just want a little compensation in return.”

Will led them up some more stairs as silently as possible. They moved at a snail's pace, listening to the Courser and its hostages.

“You are in no position to negotiate.”

“Please, please . Let me think. Please.”

“Your time is running out.”

“ Please please please. ” The man was crying.

Another shot rang out and they heard another man begging for his life. Will squared his shoulders and burst into the room, gun raised at the Courser.

The thing looked completely human to Mac as it lowered its weapon. It was wearing a long black coat and had its black hair pulled back. It eerily reminded him of Will and his black clothing and armour. But, its skin and hair were the wrong colour and the way it held itself wasn't the same. The jaw shape and eyes though?

“Are you here for the synth?” The cold voice said. It didn't sound fully human at least. It was grinning at them.

Will answered with a bullet that grazed the things head and then they all started shooting. A stray bullet catching the last surviving Gunner in the head. The thing disappeared and he heard Will shouting in frustration. He signaled a grenade and they all shielded their faces, Mac stepping back behind the doorway for cover. The grenade hit nothing and as he peeked back around with his rifle raised, the room had gone deathly still. 

The Courser had appeared behind Hancock and grabbed him by the neck. Its back was almost fully to Mac, evil blue eyes narrowed at Will, “One more move and I'll tear this abomination's head off.”
Hancock's fingers were gripping the Courser's hand as it choked him, gasping for air. Will's hands went up and he dropped his gun. The others followed suit but Mac stayed hidden. He carefully took aim at the side of the Courser's head, his heart in his throat as he watched Hancock's face start to turn purple.

Will shouted, “What do you want!?”

“I want the password.” It was still grinning. Mouth too wide and it didn't reach the things eyes.

“What fucking password? I have no idea what you're talking about, now drop him!”

The Courser's eyes narrowed, “I don't think I will.” Mac saw the Courser tighten its fingers and Hancock started slapping at it, his elbows trying to dig into the synth but it didn't let go. His toes were scuffing the floor as the Courser casually began to lift him. Blue light began to flicker.

Mac let out a shallow breath and took the shot. Time seemed to slow and he practically watched the bullet sail through the air to its target. The sound of his gun caught up to his brain and the bullet tore through the Courser's head. It fell back, pulling Hancock down with it, the Ghoul still struggling against its grip. Will and Deacon surged forward and began to yank the fingers from around his neck. Hancock's feet were kicking desperately, heels digging into the floor, as he tried to get air. Mac ran over too and tried to help wrench him free.

Suddenly the Coursers fingers popped out their sockets and Hancock took a ragged gasping breath. Mac fell back onto his butt and Deacon pulled Hancock away from the Courser as Will straddled it and started pummeling its face. 

The thing was weakly trying to push him off, and then it laughed at Will, its cold voice whispering, “I’m just the decoy …” It shuddered and a robotic voice started warning it that it was damaged and needed repair. It stopped moving as Will caved its face in with his fist but the General didn't stop punching it. He was screaming at it and his hands were bloody. 

Cait ran over and tried to pull him off but he shrugged her away, “Oi! You're gonna break the chip, you idiot!” She slapped him hard across the face.

Will took a great shuddering breath and nodded to her. He punched the Courser one more time before standing.

A small hello came from behind them as Deacon spoke to the synth girl locked in a small room but Mac ignored them as he watched Will lay gentle bloody fingers to Hancock's neck. The Ghoul winced and said a quiet and painful “Ow” as Will prodded. Mac sighed in relief at the sound of his voice and sat down to rest.

***

Xan was frowning as he poured over his supplies list in the clinic. A fire had started in one of the buildings and a few people had been burnt pretty badly. They were treated but it had taken a lot of stock to get everyone settled again. He should talk to Preston about getting some kind of fire brigade going. No one was sure how the fire had started but the building had gone up quick. Food supplies lost. They'd have to send a request to Abernathy and Greygarden to restock. He noted it down in his book.

There had also been a birth . The first baby born in Sanctuary had filled everyone with a little hope. A little tiny baby girl. He’d have to make more bandages and Stimpaks before he and Duncan could go home and sleep. Did he need to start making ante-natal and maternity plans for mother's? He knew a few more women in the settlement were pregnant. Baby bottles, blankets, clothes, milk-supplements. Folic acid. All went into his book.

A little snore sounded behind him.

He looked over at his boy and smiled. He was curled up on a cot, the comic he had been reading was flopped onto his chest and his eyes were shut. Curly brown hair like his dad's sticking up everywhere. He’d been very busy today helping in the clinic. Xan decided to let him rest whilst he finished his work. He had school tomorrow and needed his sleep, growing strong clever boy that he was.

Kenzie came in with a steaming cup of some kind of thick wholesome broth and handed it over, “Want me to get started on the gauze?” She whispered and looked as tired as he felt.

“Thanks, Kenzie and yes please.” He sipped at the broth and turned back to the numbers and papers before him. The patient list got bigger every week. He’ll have to start training and hiring more people again soon. Even with Curie and a few helpers, there were still a lot of people and the usual dangers of this life caught up with them every day. Bug-bites, knife wounds, raider attacks, Super Mutants. More chicken-scratch handwriting filled the pages.

A crow cawed in the distance and he hummed quietly as he adjusted the numbers on the sheets, updated patient records as needed, and then turned to the chem station.
He could hear Kenzie not far away getting ready to boil cloths clean ready for new bandages. He turned the burner on and started making the chems and stims they needed. It should only take a few hours. Then he could sleep.
Stimpaks, Med-X, Calmex, Jet, antibiotics, Mentats (varying flavours and mostly for Hancock), blood, salve. On and on and on.
His feet and hands were aching from the effort of today. It was dark out and definitely very late. Maybe I should take a bath? He continued to hum.

He wondered where Mac was. He found himself checking the name on his side more and more often lately as Will dragged his partner all over the Commonwealth for work. Mac enjoyed it though. He enjoyed doing mostly honest work for the Minutemen. People called him a soldier which made Mac preen. Sniper, soldier, wastelander, the Captain's man.
Did he like his little toy soldier?

He smiled as he remembered Mac’s smile when he'd given it to him at the bridge. They’d be home soon. And Xan’s work was here in their settlements. His fight was here.
He made sure people were fed and clothed and defended and well whilst Will fought the dangers beyond their walls and brought more people into the fold. It worked. Preston kept the intricacies of the settlements going and got the recruits trained and had the engineers build their plans. But, Will was the General. Xan and Preston his left and right hand.

What was that song he was trying to remember? He'd heard Will singing it the other day.

He heard the door open and sighed. What now? A splinter? A farm injury? A gunshot? He paused over the chem station as he heard Kenzie say, “Oh! Mr. Valentine, how can I help?”

He went still and held in his groan as he heard Nick say, “Just checking in.”

“Oh! Well, we're all fine. Just getting ready to close up actually.”

“Is Xander here?” 

Please say no. Please say no.

“Oh, yes, he and his son are just through there.”

Goddamnit.

Nick stepped around the door, “Hello, Xander, just-”

“Just checking in. I know , Nick. What do you need?” He wiped his hands on his pants and turned the burner off on the chem station and shrugged his lab coat off before hanging it on a nearby hook. It'd have to wait until tomorrow.

“Nothing much. Just wanted to chat.” He lit up a cigarette.

“Please, don't smoke in my clinic,” Nick ignored him. He sighed and took a deep breath, “Chat about what, Nick?”

“Oh, just this and that, kid. Been a long time since we spoke, hmm?”

“I don't know what you mean? But…sure? You coulda spoke to me anytime. You’ve been around for ages, Nick.” The lights were getting too bright.

“Hmm, yeah. I have, haven't I? No guard dog today?” He didn't sound like Nick. Didn't sound like the robot they'd rescued from that Vault of Triggermen, “Funny how that happens.” A crow cawed.

A pinpoint of pain was beginning behind one eye. He felt trapped. Pressured. Nick was between him and Duncan, “Nick, please , go away. I'm busy.” 

Fuck my head.

“No can do, princess.”

Fucking princess?

The cigarette was stubbed out on the ground, “When we first met, you looked so frightened. Holding onto big brother for protection. Now though?”

Xan thought back to the Vault they'd rescued him from. Had he been frightened when they'd found Nick? Shocked, maybe? And tired. But frightened? 

“Come a long way from cosying up to the peach cobbler, haven't you?”

Xan felt all the blood leave his face. That voice. That line, “What the fuck?”

“You know, we were surprised to find you in the Vault with your brother. You weren't on Vault-Tec's database. Your brother was meant to be the backup so imagine how excited everyone was when we found two!” His arms flew wide with giddiness, “They've been watching. Always watching. Seeing what you and your brother would do. Father is very happy.”

“What have you done with Nick?” He felt awful. The guy they'd saved from the Vault in the Common was not the guy in front of him now. The friendly helpful detective who had had so many fun stories and quips before Hagen and the Memory Den.

“He's still in here,” the robot tapped his head, “I've just…taken over for a while. He's a fighter, I'll give him that. Always shouting and banging to get out. Calling for you and your brother to help him. Help me, help me. Don't trust the thing in front of you .” His voice mimicked Nick's perfectly. Old Chicago gumshoe detective. Not-Nick grinned, the fake skin cracking with its wideness, “Now, it's time to go.”

A blue light filled the clinic, the smell of Ozone and electricity, he heard Duncan scream. A dark skinned man in a long black coat and tinted sunglasses was standing beside “ Nick ” and they approached Xan slowly, “C’mon, Lucas, we can't keep Father waiting.” 

Will!

Danse!

Deacon!

Mac!

Strong arms were on him and he let his blade slip from his sleeve, swinging out the way Hancock had shown him. Duncan was screaming for him and he needed to reach his son. He would not leave him alone. The knife tore at Nick’s coat but he was fast and dodged the blade. His skeletal hand wrapped around his wrist and squeezed, he spun them so that Xan was pressed against his chest and the knife tumbled from his grip. 

He could see Duncan stumbling up out of the cot, “Duncan, no! Stay there!” Kenzie ran into the room and screamed. It was ear splitting and he could hear Dogmeat barking some ways away. The scream and barking alerted the Minutemen on guard, he could hear them scrambling and shouting. The loud bangs of Power Armour running up the street.

Run, Danse! Please!

The man in black came to stand behind him and Nick and he felt a strong heavy hand lay on his shoulder. The smell of Ozone filled the air again and he felt his hair raise.

“Daddy!” Duncan was running to him, wide eyes just like Mac’s watering.

“No! Dunc -” He held his hand out to stop him. Their fingertips brushed and he felt like he was being squeezed through a tight tube. 

He felt all of himself fall away and float in an ocean of nothingness. Absolute and complete darkness. No sound. No touch. No smell or taste. Pure oblivion. It felt like it lasted forever and no time at all. Nothing mattered. He was dead. No pain. 

Quiet.

“Come home with us, Lucas…”

He felt his knees hit the ground and stumbled forward onto his hands. His head was splitting open and he couldn’t see. It was too bright. Too loud and too quiet all at once.

“Daddy!” His son was crying somewhere nearby. Mac’s son. Their son. 

“...Duncan..?”

“Hold the boy. Why did you bring the child?” A monotone voice said and he heard a scuffle. 

He raised his head and squinted into the too bright room. Everything was so white . So clean and monochrome. He could barely see. The splitting pain in his head threatened to pull him under. Where was the dirt? The soft lantern light and stars and moon? The luminescence of the fake lighting was worse than he remembered from back before the bombs dropped. 

Am I dreaming? Was it all just a dream? Robert? Is he real?

“Dad!” Duncan!

His head snapped round and he saw his boy who looked so much like his dad. Definitely not a dream. Definitely real. He was being held by the man in black. He lurched to his feet, ignoring the nausea and the way the room swayed, and swung for the man holding his boy, “Get the fuc -” A skeletal fist connected with the side of his head and he fell.

“Da- mmph!” The man holding his boy has a hand over his mouth. Big blue-grey eyes streaming tears that wet the black glove.

“Leave him alone!” Nick kicked him in the stomach and all the wind whooshed out of him.

The monotone voice sighed, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t physically hurt him, Kellogg.” 

Kellogg. We fucking killed him. Didn't we?

“Ah, he ain't hurt, Father.”

“Yes, well,” Xan looked up at the source of the voice. An old man with dark tan skin and salt and pepper hair. He stood regally but was clearly frail. Ill. He had a frowning lined face and bright blue eyes, “As a reward for your assistance, regardless of how long it has taken, you can rest.”

Kellogg, masquerading as Nick, looked shocked, “Rest? What about the other one?”

“Don’t worry about William. He’ll make his own way here, in time, I’m sure.”

“Leave my brother out of this. And drop my son.” Xan stumbled back to his feet, room swaying and forcing air into his chest, “What is this? Let us go.” 
He sounded weak, even to his own ears, but Duncan was dropped and he scurried to Xan’s side and hid behind his back. Xan reached behind him and put a hand on his boy's head.

“Apologies, one moment please,” The old man pulled something out of his long white coat. It looked like a small remote of some kind, “Kellogg, yes, you may rest.”

Nick-Kellogg raised his hands, “Wait wait wait -” A button was pressed and the robot collapsed as suddenly as if someone had dropped a brick. Unceremoniously and without feeling. He just dropped.

“Now, I understand this is all terribly confusing for you. Or maybe not? I have seen how clever you are.” The old man stepped over the prone form of the synth, long white coat hiding him from view.

He wanted to go home. He couldn’t see a door that obviously led outside. He wanted to scoop Duncan up and run as fast as he could to literally anywhere else. He screamed in his head for Will and MacCready. For anyone . Hancock, Danse, Deacon, Cait, “Get to the point.”

The man gave an annoying polite cough, “Yes, well. It is my pleasure to meet you, Lucas Alexander Rake. I am Father. And this is the Institute.”

Xan felt his heart drop into his stomach as he collapsed onto his knees dragging Duncan with him.

***

They were in high spirits. Smiling around a fire in Bunker Hill as they regaled a few traders and Minutemen with the daring tale of them taking down a Courser and escaping Greenetech Genetics as it was overrun with Gunners. Will and Deacon were very good at embellishing and MacCready laughed behind his beer bottle.

Tomorrow, he, Cait and Hancock, would head home to Sanctuary whilst Will and Deacon took the chip to this Tinker guy. Deacon had explained that the three of them wouldn’t be allowed into the Railroad HQ regardless of their relationships to Charmer and Quiet .

Music was playing, laughter was bouncing between his family and a few of the people who had joined them. Mac sat soaking up the atmosphere. He was in that nice place where your body is exhausted but in a good way and he just knew he'd crash as soon as he lay flat.

“And then! And I swear this happened! This Gunner fucking pissed himself! Right in front of Hancock. I don't think I've ever seen him more disappointed in anything ever!” More laughter and salutes to Hancock who grumbled, throat still a little sore, about the guy pissing himself throwing him off the rhythm.

“Ooo, tell ‘em about the staircase! Oh my God, we just tumbled down the entire thing! I'm gonna have bruises for weeks.”

“Yeah! Shit! Who throws a frag up stairs? A stupid fuc -”

They were interrupted by a young Minuteman woman. She was breathing heavily as though she had sprinted for hours. Her hair was plastered to her face with sweat and she tried to stand straight for the General even as her knees shook, “General! I…” a deep breath, “we…” another deep breath, “there's…”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, sit down.” Will helped the woman sit and put her head between her legs, “Catch your breath. Wow, where did you come from?”

“I…ran,” she looked up and breathed through her nose heavily, “from Hangman…we've been looking…for hours…heard you…were here…”

“Well, damn, if you wanted to say hello, we would've been here in the morning.” Will looked smug. Mac and Hancock giggled. 

The woman had finally recovered, “No, General. It's news…from Sanctuary.” She was not smiling and her eyes ticked nervously over them all, “There's been an incident.”

Everyone went still. No more laughing. No more smiling and joking. The music felt far away. Hancock hissed as politely as he could, “Well, sister? What happened?”

“Umm, well, uh…” she was looking between them all with a bit of fear and worry.

“Fucking spit it out,” Cait was standing now, “We ain't gonna shoot the messenger.”

“Uh, right, sorry. I just…” she took another deep breath and snapped into a more formal tone, “General. I have a report from Sanctuary. Nick Valentine, Captain Xander and…” she met Mac's eyes then, “Duncan MacCready have gone missing.”

Mac felt like the earth had swallowed him. He felt like he'd fallen into a deep dark hole. Hell was meeting him as he rushed toward the pit. That hollow hungry monster of despair and misery clawed at his throat and drew his life blood out of him. He couldn't breathe.

Will stood up and shouted loud enough for all of Bunker Hill to hear, “WHAT!?” 

“General, I am not sure of the details. I just have what was said over the radio. Your presence has been requested at Sanctuary.”

MacCready was on his feet. He gathered his rifle; made sure his bullets were where they needed to be, his bags, his satchels, armour back in place, toy soldier in his front pocket, all in less than a minute. He went to the gates of Bunker Hill and began running.

Run away if you have to. Don't stop running till you come home.

He wasn't sure who was behind him and he didn't care. He was just running. And running. And running. Night turned to day, the scorching sun beating down on him by noon, but he kept running. He wasn't sure he was even breathing. His lungs screamed as he ran from the monster clicking at his heels and grabbing his arms to drag him down again. He couldn't. Sanctuary was safe . Bad luck and misery couldn't reach them there. The toy soldier burned by his heart.

He didn't look over his shoulder. He barely looked ahead for enemies or traps. Hours and hours and hours. His body was protesting. His head was throbbing and painful. His feet and knees screaming at him to stop as he pounded over concrete and packed earth and through water. He didn't listen. His mind was blank and screaming at him. Each footfall the metronome for the crying in his mind.

Lucas Duncan Lucas Duncan.

It was evening again. He passed Red Rocket, his and Lucas' first home, and heard a bark, Dogmeat loping along beside him. He kept running. The gate of Sanctuary opened for him and he sprinted home, ignoring all around him and the voices calling for him to wait.

Run away if you have to. Don't stop running till you come home.

That Minuteman woman was lying . Trying to scare them and make drama. Why would she do that? Maybe it was a bet. Some stupid recruit thing to rile up the General and his friends for caps. They were going to be colouring in their living room, rewiring a light, having a bath, or eating in the kitchen. 

Why was that woman fucking lying to him!?

He burst through his front door and chucked his bag and rifle down, “Duncan! Lucas!” 

He flew through the house. The living room was empty, a cup still on the table. The kitchen was cold. Stove off and two dirty bowls in the sink waiting to be washed. No bubbly laughter coming from the bathroom as Duncan wriggled to get dry and ready for bed. He stood in the hall. Both bedroom doors were open as though they'd both just gone into their rooms. Duncan’s bed was cold and rumpled, toys strewn around and the pajamas he last wore in a pile. His and Xan's bed was made. But empty. So so empty.

He doesn't remember sitting on the floor in the hallway but someone was lifting him by the armpits.

“It's okay, soldier, just me.” Danse's voice, “Come on. We're having a meeting.”

“A meeting? Are Lucas and Duncan at the clinic? Please. Please tell me they're at the clinic, Danse.” 

Danse turned him and looked down at him. Face full of pity and sadness, “They're not at the clinic, Mac. They're not anywhere. We can't find them.”

Run away if you have to. Don't stop running till you come home.

He'd told him to come home.

Something snapped in his mind. He was screaming but he didn't really register it as his own. Danse held him up and waited for him to stop.

***

His friends were sitting in his living room waiting for Danse to get Mac. Deacon was absent, getting the chip to the Railroad to be decrypted. The frantic medic, Kenzie, was perched on a stool sobbing her little heart out. Someone has given him Xan's knife and he flipped it between his fingers.

Mac had run so fast and for so long to get here. They'd followed him as best they could, taking out enemies who nipped at his heels. He hadn't even looked round at the shooting or barking or growling. Didn't once take his rifle from his back. He'd just run.

They could hear him screaming. It was blood curdling. All of Sanctuary heard his pain. He wailed and sobbed louder than he'd ever heard anyone before. It made him want to cry too. But he couldn't. Not yet. He'd do it later. Alone with John. He flipped the knife.
The screaming went on and on. He looked at the faces of his friends. They winced or shook and Piper had a tear rolling down her cheek. Hancock was tapping a finger on his thigh. Cait rolled her shoulders and shivered. Preston had his hat in his hands. Curie was chewing a nail. He screamed again and they all flinched. The knife flickered in the candlelight.

Cait sighed deeply and tried to sound like her usual cocky self but it just came out sad, “Maybe someone should slap him?”

“Pretty sure Danse can handle him. Give him a few more minutes.” Preston said just as sadly.

“Maybe I should give him some Calmex?” Curie asked but Will shook his head.

“No, he needs to be here for this. Needs to hear what happened.” 
They all looked at Kenzie who was still sobbing and rocking herself gently, “Kenzie? Do you need anything?”

She just looked at him with bloodshot watering eyes, “I'm sorry…I couldn't do anything…it just happened so fast…they were so fast…”

They.

The screaming finally abated and was replaced by an awful cavernous silence. All of Sanctuary was quiet . Hancock cracked his neck, “No one says shit to him about that. He doesn't need any fucking ribbing right now.” No one was going to say anything anyway.

He felt like he was mourning. The echo of Mac's scream crashing about him in some awful tumultuous wave. Had he felt like this when his parents had died? When Shaun was taken? No. He'd been worried about Xan. Everything he did looped back to his brother in one way or another. His kid. The man he'd raised.

An awful thought curled up in his brain and lay there. Has Mac looked at his throat in a mirror? Has he looked and seen his brother's name hatched out in a white scar? Is that why he'd screamed so loud and hard? 

He shook it out. No. He'd know if his brother was dead. He'd feel it. He knows he would. They were linked together more intrinsically than he was even with Hancock. He knew everything about him. 

He knew when he was genuinely happy or angry or sad. He knew when he was in pain. Those Hell bound migraines twisting him up and pulling him apart from the inside. He knew what each flicker of his face meant, what each stretch of his fingers was going to do, what each blank stare into the dark void meant.
Oh my God, he'll be hurting right now .
Stress and upset made his pain worse. Triggered him. And he and Mac weren't with him to help ease it. The knife felt heavy in his hand.

Danse clattered through the door with an almost collapsed MacCready clutching tightly to his arm. MacCready's face was wet and splotchy pale but no one commented as he collapsed on the couch next to Will. 

Will looped an arm over his shoulder and gave him a gentle shake, “We'll get them, Mac. One way or another.” Mac was holding onto his ever present scarf and Will needed to know, “Can I see?” Mac nodded and pulled his scarf down a little.