#and ask if you just summoned your mom? go watch the dub like trust me its a TIME

[ryuuseini]

I feel like everyone's quality of life would improve dramatically if they watch Yugioh Zexal at least once in their life

[revengeisalwaysanoption]

FIC: VIENI A VEDERE PERCHE’

This was supposed to be the last chapter of  “Io non ci credo, alle giraffe”, my fairy tale AU, but it ended up the one before the last (which I’m currently writing and will publish together with this one later tonight, for ‘secret’ ) somehow.

Niccolò won, of course.

It hadn't been a fair race, since climbing trees was something that he probably could have done in his sleep. Martino hadn't done in years, instead, to be honest... He had stopped after his father had reprimanded him several times for being too reckless, for not thinking about breaking his mum's heart behind if he fell off and died.

Just the memory of such tedious and hypocritical lectures - who ended up breaking mum's heart, in the end, uh? - had spurred him to go faster and faster, caring less and less if the next branch he jumped on would withstand his weight or not. If his next step would be his last.

He had reached the top of the tree just one minute after Nico. No more than sixty, insignificant, seconds.

Not too bad, right?

As expected, however, Nico didn't exactly shower him with praise when he had sat beside him.

"Ooooh, look who has decided to finally show up... I was falling asleep here, waiting for you." He nudged his shoulder, playfully, with his forehead. For a moment, he pretended to have fallen asleep on it, snoring way too loud for Martino to actually buy his silly pantomime. If anything, it made him laugh.

"Do you really fall asleep that quickly? Must be nice, to have such an untroubled mind..." He said, tauntingly. Realising straight away what he had just done, he backtracked with a wince. "... you might not know it, but my name echoes in the forests of all realms."

"Never heard of any Elios before you." Nico didn't seem to mind his slip up, and was still smiling softly. Flicking Marti's nose once, twice, three times... until Martino himself had to stop him and murmur 'if you don't stop it immediately I'm going to cut off that fucking finger... the whole hand, really, while I am at it’ and Niccolò had gone all <i>'You wouldn't. If you knew what this hand could do for you...' while teasingly squeezing on his thigh.

He gently removed it, mindlessly skimming over his knuckles and intertwining their little fingers as he placed that obnoxious hand back on Niccolò's own lap. Unable to bear the heat and the fondness of his gaze - amazed at how he was able to give both vibes at the same time, with the same intensity - he looked up at the sky.

Wow... It had been ages since he had last seen the White Trail so clearly, and the fluctuating flames - which is mom liked to call 'dancing curtains' - which spiralled in bursts of green, red and blue.

He had been about to tell Nico his actual name, and then he had completely forgotten about it. It only occurred to him after he had heard 'Elio... Elio... ELIO!‘ whispered over and over again.

Right.

Niccolò still didn't know his real name, and here there was the perfect opportunity to give it to him. 

"Actually, Ni..." He murmured, but Nico didn't hear him since he was speaking as well.

"Are you still awake?" He asked, softly. So tenderly, really, that Martino couldn't find the question as absurd and idiotic as he usually would.

"No, this is my brain's answering machine. You can leave a message, if you'd like." He joked, making Niccolò smile so big and bright that he could see those white teeth shine in the twilight.

"Okay. So... I'm sorry if I interrupted you. What were you about to share with me? One of your darkest secrets, perhaps? Your name, at last?" He gave Martino the perfect chance to come clean, handed it on a silver platter... So, of course, he couldn't take it. It would have been too easy, wouldn't it?

"I'm sorry. The person you are looking for is unavailable at the moment. Please try again later. Thank you. You may go first, in the meantime." He insisted, encouraging Niccolò to continue.

"Okay, so... I haven't forgotten, I promise. I still owe you an explanation..." Again, in the span of a instant, Nico had turned serious. Forlorn, like it pained him to think about it. Well, of course. His grandma had probably passed away not too long ago - and that might have been the event that triggered his escape to the Forsaken Forest - and Marti's curiosity was forcing him to relieve that.

Thanks, but no thanks.

"You don't have to give itl me, if you'd rather not... It's not like you promised, and it's not really 

a vital piece of information... " He reached out, to stoke his cheek with the utmost care. He hoped that small gesture proved to be comforting, at least a bit, for Niccolò.

"You're unbelievable..." Nico said, but it didn't sound like it was a bad thing. "... it's just... that it's actually quite a basic, boring, story? She was one of the Greatest Wizards of the Lands, and this particular tree was her favourite crossing spot. It's still so imbued with her magic that it feels like she's still here, you know?"

It made sense, he supposed, for anyone with the slightest receptivity to magic. Which wasn't him, of course.

"It's Martino, by the way."  He couldn't say he knew, so he did the next best thing.

"Oh?" Niccolò's face brightened up once more, not quite believing Marti had finally given in.

"I'm Martino Rametta." He suddenly got up, taking Niccolò's hand in his and shaking it. "Fancy meeting you here, sir. And you are?"

"All right, Mr. Rametta. If you must know, I'm a baron. Baron Niccolò Massimiliano Francesco Ludovico Of The House of Fares. Others have dubbed me as 'the Baron in the trees', but you can call me... LudoNico." He stuck his nose up in the in air, tucking a rebellious curl behind his ear. 

"Thanks, I hate it. I'd prefer to stick to Niccolò." Marti scowled, but he soon mellowed out as Nico leaned in with a devilish grin on his face. What... What was he about to do?

Why his face was so close to Marti's, all of a sudden?

"As long as it's not Nicco, we're good." Nico conceded, moving away. 

Martino had really thought... He hadn't been reading too much into that, or hallucinating, Niccolò had been so close to... but then he changed his mind. Why?

He felt it would have been stupid to inquire about that, when he had done the same just a couple of hours before.

"So, what now?" He asked, instead.

"Now... Now we really can go wherever the heck we want. Unless you have other obligations to attend to? There must be some other singing contest for you to enjoy, before the May Mayhem." Nico mused, as he stretched.

"Huh? May what?" 

"May Mayhem? Like, the biggest competition around, where people show up on stage with the most ridiculous outfits and either sing ballads or perform weird rituals? You have no idea what I am talking about... That's okay. I secured a couple of tickets months ago..."

Martino chose to focus on the fact that Niccolò could see them still hanging out in May, that he was willing to share those precious tickets with him, and disregard the fact that he would have had to endure another melodic festival.

"I do have place in mind... I'd show it to you on the map, but it's in my satchel." "Awesome." Ni clapped his hand gleefully, and then started his descent. "Let's get it, then." 

Martino wished he could share his enthusiasm at the idea of having to dive into that muddy water not just once but twice. He groaned at the mere miserable picture his brain was already painting, getting a boisterous laugh out of his companion.

And yet he knew he wasn't going Nico go back alone, as inconvenient as that swim back to their horses would be.

"This should do. We're close enough now." Niccolò, however, stopped on the lowest bough and started tapping his fingers against the trunk with one hand, while the other was open and outstretched towards the pond's edge. 

He kept murmuring words in a language Martino was familiar with - yet he couldn't name a single person he had ever heard it from... perhaps it had been in his dreams? hard to say, when he was hardly able to remember what sleeping felt like - but sounded absolutely unintelligible to his ears.

And then his satchel came into view, quickly soaring through the air. Was Nico performing a summoning charm without the help of a wand? For real? Right in front of his eyes?

The nerve. The audaciousness. The guts it showed, to go for a gesture that screamed 'I am powerful AND untamed. I don't answer to anyone's rules but my own.' to someone he had met only the night before.

Amazing. Incredible. Astonishing. 

'One more talent to add to the list... Aside from being agile, athletic... Handsome... And I am supposed to be the unbelievable one? Excuse me?'

What about the horses, though? Surely he wouldn't be able to summon them as well, no matter how impressive his magic was. Not on a few hours of sleep - about that: he really needed to stop being selfish and remind Nico once again that he should rest - and with barely any food in him. 

"We don't need them." Niccolò said, guessing what he Martino had been about to ask. "Rocco knows the way back to the Incantava castle, and can lead them back to the royal stables. Ele has been taking great care of him when I couldn't - ever since we were kids - and I'm sure she won't mind Chicco."

"Incantava?" Trust Martino's mind to fixate on the most insignificant detail.

"Incanti plus Sava? I've been secretly - well, not so secretly now but I know I can trust you with this - have been calling them like that for ages..." Butterflies did a number on Marti's stomach, at that. He already knew, but it was nice to have an actual confirmation of the trust Niccolò had in him. 

"And we are?" Why was he even asking, it wasn't like in the dreadfully short time they have been together Nico should have come up with a nickname for them as well. They weren’t even friends, were they? Barely acquaintances, at best.

"Nicotino? Martinico? Rames?" Nico teased him with a smile, and a fully body wiggle, before he leaned against the truck of the tree to watch him rummage through his bag. 

"So, an addictive venom. A possessed scarecrow and something that sounds like food. Great." Martino rolled his eyes, as he finally found what he was looking for. “Well, actually… The place I’ve got in mind is not on the map. I don’t even know where it is. But since these are yours, maybe you do?” Niccolò eyes widened, and his hands were shaking a bit as he took the pictures from Marti. “Is everything okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He asked, a bit worried by Nico’s silence while he kept staring at the parchments. “Yeah, yeah.” Nico snapped out of it, at the sound of his voice.”I just didn’t think anyone would have enough taste and foresight, because you can bet these are going to sell for your weight in gold, to keep them…” “Well, you know Sana. She’s got a head for profits, or she wouldn’t be running the most successful tavern of our realm.” Marti played along, hoping he hadn’t reopened an old wound by mistake. Again. “Sana? Oh. Right. Of course, it makes sense.”  He sounded slightly disappointed at that, like he had been expecting to hear someone else’s name. Maddalena’s, perhaps. Understandable. Just because Martino preferred to think that it must had been an arranged engagement, it didn’t make it true. Maybe he still loved her dearly, and had left because there was something seriously wrong with him? Something connected to his inability to walk on the ground for too long? “So, do you know where to find those giraffesses - or whatever they’re called - or not? Do they even exist, by way? Or did you come up with them in a dream?” He quickly changed the topic, bringing it back to the matter at hand. His curse. “Oh, my dear Marti.”  How could he manage to sound both mocking and fond? It wasn’t fair! “I wish I could take the credit. My minds comes up with a great deal of things, but giraffes aren’t one of them. I’ll gladly show you, since you asked.” “You better not be pulling my leg.” Martino mumbled, wishing Niccolò would just get on with it. He could barely stand having him look into his eyes, without giving in to the temptation of leaning in and… No, no, no. Not a chance. Not now. Not ever. “So you don’t believe me, huh? What a dunce.” He punched Marti’s shoulder, and then proceeded to open a portal to their destination. “You are hardly the first.” They spoke very little, after that. Niccolò had him go in first, with a curt “Be my guest.” Martino chose not to question the sudden change in Nico’s attitude, knowing it would pass. He felt personally offended someone else had dared to call him a liar, however. Who were they? Marti wanted names, so he could go and… Do what? Punch them in the face?

Yeah! Why not! Rather than paying further attention to his murderous thoughts, which would have led him nowhere good, Martino focused on how Niccolò’s movements were getting stiffer and stiffer by the minute. Without saying anything, he matched the slowing pace but he didn’t know how much longer he could pretend not to see him staggering. 

The sun had yet to rise, so it wasn’t easy to tell but he could swear that he was turning paler as well.

It didn’t feel right to demand an explanation, but maybe he could persuade him to take a break. 

'We really can't afford to waste time' complained his common sense. 'We could drop dead any minute!'

'Exactly' answered his stubborn heart. 'It's surprising that you still believe we can make it. Given that we'd need a miracle for that to happen, I think we should agree on that Niccolò and his wellbeing are our priority, at the moment. Unless you can give me one good reason not…'

It couldn't find one. The most sensible thing was indeed to grab Nico's arm and pull. Pull and pull again, until Niccolò would finally give up, and let himself be gently lowered down onto the grass. He would have been welcome to use Marti's lap as a pillow, if he fancied it. Martino would not - never! not in a million years - take advantage of the situation to thread his fingers through those curls…

When he reached out to do that, however, Martino noticed something quite unusual. Nico's arm was a lot heavier, smoother and colder than it should have been. Almost as if…

No, no ifs.

It was marble, not flesh.

"Ni?" The worry was palpable in his voice, so raw and honest that Niccolò couldn't ignore it. Not unless his heart had been turned into stone, already. 

"Oh? It's just my arm. It's going to take a while before I fully turn, and by then I'm sure we will have reached Berta's most beloved spot in the savannah. Yeah, yeah, to your untrained and unappreciative eyes it will all look the same... A dry grassland, with small and dispersed trees. But she knows her stuff, Marti. She knows where to find the best shade and the most delicious leaves.

Berta's my favourite, you know? The one I usually draw. She's such a sweetheart. I am positive she is going to let me climb onto her back, someday." 

"Turn into what?"  He couldn't care less about giraffes, he wasn't going to be swayed into ignoring Nico's predicament. Not anymore. Though his ramblings about Berta had been a valiant - and quite cute - attempt. "And why? Have you been cursed too?"

Suddenly, witnessing Niccolò go through a wide array of contrasting emotions - a proper 'face-journey' as Gio would say - in less than a minute, Marti understood that there had been a major misunderstanding between them.

It wasn't as if Nico had meant to keep his condition a secret: he thought Martino had already heard about it from Maddalena.

So, that meant… Oh, crap.

Yeah, it meant that when he had asked if it would kill him to leave those trees in the forest or dismount his horse, the previous morning... Niccolò though he had been joking. 

'Good job, Martino. You're lucky he doesn't seem to mind if you are a mean, stupid, peasant.'

"She really didn't tell you?" He sighed, when he saw Martino confirm with a headshake. "I definitely owe her an apology. Anyway... Long story short: there's no oath about never touching the ground involved. No curse apart from my own foolishness." 

"I can't say I'm surprised, here." He teased, with a smile. "Takes one to know one."

'Don't be ashamed of whatever you did, Nico. Don't call yourself an idiot, 'cause if you are… Then I am too. You are not alone, you understand?' 

"Agreed." Nico said, smiling a little. He was better than anyone he had ever met - except Gio, perhaps, but that came from years of experience - at reading between the lines of 'Martinese'. 

"I was merely trying to get better hold on my emotions." He went on, now fearing no judgement from Martino. "Which, as you have seen for yourself, can be rather intense and rather unpredictable. Turns out you can't do that, unless you literally have a heart of stone. For some reason, however, the spell only starts spreading when I am walking on the ground. Maybe it knows it's where I'd rather be, instead of being bound to earthly obligations. Magic works in mysterious ways."

"Believe me, I know… " Marti was perfectly aware that there would be no better occasion to share its own truth, so he went ahead and confessed. There wasn’t that much to say, honestly.

Niccolò listened carefully, not even attempting to mock him when he mentioned the detail about the giraffes and their tears. If anything, he seemed relieved that Martino wouldn’t have trusted a single individual claiming they were real.

"So, let me get this straight. You still need the tears and a song, right? He waited for Martino to nod, before he continued. "That's awesome! I mean, not that you're cursed and all… But, like, that you needed those items and you met me! What were the chances? And let me tell you, I'm gonna take it personally if mine doesn't qualify as a wounded soul. Or if my song doesn't make any of them tear up..."

"Yeah, but…"  It was certainly worth to give it a try, yet they couldn't just forget about the clause mentioning that no help from his friends was allowed.

"… but what, Marti? Is it about the 'friend' thing? Obviously the ones you made along the way don't count, or your wooden box would have told you. Remember that it has been bewitched by you best friend, so it desperately wants you to succeed." Nico pointed out, and that did make sense.

Gio wouldn't give him unsolicited advice, so neither did the box. However, it'd still do what it could to prevent him from failing.

All he had to do was ask.

So he did.

"You are, indeed, so very close. Don't question who your heart chose."  An answer that didn't rule out asking Nico for help, right?

"That's settled, then. We'd better get a move on, now…"  

Before Niccolò could take another step, however, he was hoisted onto Martino's shoulders. 

"It's quicker like this, though you truly weight a ton."  Nico sharply tugged his hair hearing that remark… And Marti couldn't say that he didn't find that hot. 

'Not the time go there, brain. Nor the place. File it away for later.'

'Consider it done.'

**********************

By the time they reached the spot Niccolò had in mind, the sun was shining bright in the sky.

Martino had overestimated his strength, and had to take several breaks. 

The pain in muscles, however, was nothing compared to the one in his chest at the thought of all those times Nico had walked through that savannah alone. Never knowing if he'd turn back, or if he'd be stuck as a statue until some clumsy animal shattered him.

It couldn't go on like that. It wasn't unacceptable to Martino: something had to be done, as soon as they got rid of his own curse.

They had looked for an acacia tree with boughs strong and wide enough to let them sit side by side, and then Niccolò had taken a lute of his bag.

Marti's bag. Who had not packed that instrument for sure.

"You didn't know you had a lute in your bag, Sir? Have you packed your own luggage, and take responsibility for it, or should I call the authorities?" Niccolò had to make fun of his confusion, of course. "Summoning charms, Marti. Kind of what I do best."

"Shut up and sing. That's what you do best."

"Awwww, thanks. That's an oxymoron, however. Should I shut up or sing?"

"Sing!" He barked out, not meaning to make it sound like an order… expect it totally was.

"Uhh, we're getting all hot and bothered. Assertive. I like it… Let me just choose something fit for us… Mhh… That should do, I don't think my friend Cesare will mind if I tweak his lyrics a little and make it ours." He cleared his voice, after that little talk with himself, and then he finally started singing.

"Diciam sempre ‘io non cerco amore’, che preferiamo badare a noi. Ma questa non è la verità, vieni a vedere perché." 

Come and see why we keep saying we aren’t looking for love, why we would rather take care of ourselves on our own. Come and find out that it's not true. 

"Mi vedono sempre ridere, ma questa non è la realtà. Piango ogni notte, sempre per lei. Vieni a vedere perché." People only saw the carefree, sunny side of Niccolò. They didn't know the truth, didn't know how she - his head, Marti assumed, since he touched his temple when he sang that word -  made him cry himself to sleep. Come and see why.

Marti nearly flatlined a minute later, at the "C'è chi rinuncia all'amore solo perché non ne ha avuto mai. Eccomi qua, dammelo e poi… Ora capisci perché dico sempre che odio l'amore, che non mi serve a niente, però.. Prego perché, il Signore lo sa… che prima o poi lo troverò."

How could he not?

When Niccolò was saying that there were those who gave up love, only because they had never experienced it. When he was reassuring Martino hat he was there, if Marti wanted to love him back. And then he would understand why, despite saying that he hated that feeling, Nico was praying that he would find him, someday.

Too depressingly sappy for Marti's taste, to be fair, but still a nice song. And the enchanted box seemed to agree, at last!

Niccolò could have sung about the weather, and it would have worked nonetheless… because it came from him.

A more upbeat song, on the other hand, would have not drawn those majestic yellow and brown creatures out of their hiding. Giraffes, uh?

Much bigger than had pictured them, but not quite as scary. They reminded him a bit of Chicco, but also of fawns with that little horns they on their head, the big brown eyes… and he found endearing how the smaller ones would totter, with those legs that looked way too long and tiny for their bodies, especially if they had to bend down to eat something, or break into a sprint. 

None were bawling, though there were some who had been moved by the sound of Nico's voice and were quietly weeping.

If only Marti could collect a couple of those droplets, somehow…

"Awww, Berta. It's okay. I'm okay. Come here, you big sap."  While Marti had been marvelling at the whole tower, the tiniest and scrawniest out them had started her wobbly walk towards them. She looked like she would fall at every step, but then she didn't. Slowly - though not quite steadily - she had reached them, and she was now bending her neck to let herself be petted by Niccolò.

He could have sat there, enraptured such a sweet display of mutual trust and affection, for hours… 

"The vial, Marti?" But then Niccolò reminded him what they were supposed to do here.

Vial? What vial?

Oh, right. The one needed to save those tears and bring them back to Gio..

He must have taken an empty one with him, come on!

Ha! Found it!

"We did it! Now Gio's got everything he needs for the sleeping potion, hasn't he?" It warmed him up inside, to hear his best friend's name on Nico's lips. He couldn't wait to introduce them to each other, find out what shenanigans they could get themselves into.

"Yeah!" Oh, he was so happy he could kiss Niccolò.

"Then do it, you coward." Nico challenged him, gently stroking the back of his neck.

Oops. Did he said that aloud?

"Me? I am the coward? What about you, huh? I sense a massive bias, h-"

Uh. Had he been shushed with a kiss? Yes. Totally. Unequivocally. Did he mind? Not one bit.

It was better than he could have ever imagined. Soft, unhurried but sizzling hot at the same time. It made him feel light-headed, but sharpened his senses. And they all zeroed-in on Nico.

He would have gladly reciprocated, but then the whole world went black.

Oh, what a way to go.

[siribear]

whisper’s on auto-pilot. deacon notices immediately when her far off stare doesn’t return as the brotherhood airship disappears. and when she looks at him? it’s why he wears sunglasses. eyes are the windows to the soul, they used to say, and hers has left the building.

‘we have to see what that’s about, right?’ she asks with no particular inflection.

deacon shoves his hands in his pockets to keep himself from reaching out to her. he slips his fingers around a little curved piece of metal fused to the one piece of brain she left intact. that carnage she left in her wake - the smashed flesh and bone - he can still remember what that’s like.

maccready follows them down from the fort, but otherwise stays silent. kid doesn’t seem like he knows where to go or what to do, after what he’s seen. honestly, he’s surprised the kid hasn’t broken off back to goodneighbor. but he keeps an eye out, and it allows deacon to brush up next to whisper.

‘i figure, we’ve been through a lot together, right?’ he begins, and there’s that thousand yard stare again. she turns her gaze forward, makes a little noise for him to continue. ‘so, i think it’s time you learn the big secret.’

‘another one?’ she intones.

‘nah. the big secret.’ when she doesn’t inquire again, he continues. it’s almost not fun, but she’s his partner and he’s got to coax a little of her back from the edge. ‘everyone thinks desdemona is the leader of the railroad. hell, that’s how she introduced herself to you when you first stepped foot into our little home. but, see, that’s not entirely the truth.’

he pauses, allows her to soak it all in. but there’s no encouraging grin when she turns to look at him. at least in her eyes he sees go on when before it started with i can’t.

‘in fact, i’m the leader of the railroad. desdemona is there just to throw everyone off. more operational security, if you will.’

‘uh huh.’

‘really. when you stepped in, she was ready to have glory mow you down, and what a shame that would have been. but i step in, i say i vouch for you, and bam, here you are. part of my little squad i founded.’

‘you founded the railroad?’

‘not me by myself. there were three of us, johnny d and watts were the other two founders.’ it’s always strange, referring to himself in the third person. even when he’s talking to tourists, introducing himself as john doe. he tells so many lies, no one bats an eye when he’s actually telling the truth. ‘it’ll be... seventy years ago, now. something like that.’

whisper frowns in thought. after a moment, ‘you expect me to believe that you’re seventy years old?’ with a hint of amusement in her voice. there’s his girl.

he shrugs. ‘i did tell you i was old, just not how old. going under the knife helps me hide it.’ he looks to the sky and sighs wistfully. ‘we’ve done a lot of good since we started. saved a lot of synths.’ see, and this may be one of his favorite things about whisper. definitely in his top twenty - when he got to twenty he doesn’t know. but he can practically see the gears turning in her head. pinpoints the exact moment she knows it’s bullshit, but she lets him keep going.

and, hey, deacon’s no good at comfort, but he’s good at talking. ‘look, i firmly believe we’re the last line of defense between the institute and the commonwealth. and based on my last trip to the capital wasteland? maybe even the world.’

‘the minutemen are getting there,’ she mumbles defensively. ‘how is the railroad defending anyone?’

‘it’s not all about synths with the railroad. mostly synths, because who else is going to defend them, right? right?’ she shrugs and nods. ‘exactly. but more than that, we’re building a better, brighter commonwealth.’ here we go: ‘the railroad is the best,’ he hooks his arm around hers, ignores how she instinctively mirrors him, ‘noblest,’ he throws an arm in the air dramatically, ‘organization that’s ever lived. we’re-we’re - ’ he can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him.

‘- having way too much fun?’ whisper finishes for him. not laughing, but there is a smile fighting its way through. being in the railroad for so long, deacon knows how to accept the small victories.

‘you’re catching on too quick, partner.’ he sighs, leaning into her. ‘maybe it’s time i retire.’

‘seventy years? you’ve certainly hit your peak.’

he snorts and untangles himself, wipes away kellogg’s blood on his jeans. ‘i had a point there. really, i did.’

‘go ahead.’

‘you, of all people, should know that other organizations are going to spoon feed you their own bullshit.’ he knows garvey got her with the minutemen, and deacon is still cursing himself for pulling his tourist out of the area so early. but at least she didn’t fall in with the brotherhood. ‘instead, look at what they’re doing. what they’re asking you to do; what sort of world they’d have you build and how they’re gonna pay for it.’

she stares at him, frowning again. ‘give me your assessment, then. what’s your opinion of the other groups here?’

‘i’ll skip over the smaller players. i don’t see you becoming a raider any time soon, even though the railroad doesn’t pay that well. or at all.’ she gives him a quick huff of laughter and he has to physically restrain himself from fist pumping. ‘so, the minutemen. you know i approve of what you’re doing there, but the danger comes when they get too big. you can’t be everywhere at once.

‘the brotherhood is the railroad’s second biggest enemy. between their tech and the bigotry, they’re trouble, especially under elder maxson. and the institute... i don’t think i have to elaborate.’

‘you missed one,’ she says.

he blinks. ‘did i? know something i don’t know, pal?’

‘what about the railroad?’

ah. ‘didn’t you hear me earlier? the best and noblest - ’ whisper elbows him in the ribs. ‘ow. that was the bad rib. but, huh, okay. you know i wouldn’t be here if i didn’t trust them. didn’t believe what we’re doing is the right thing.’

‘i know.’

‘but - ’ there’s always a but. ‘ - i wish we’d help people, too. not just the synths. kind of feels like we’re ignoring one group for another.’

‘you’re spread thin enough as it is,’ she reasons. absolves him and them of guilt. she turns to him with a flicker of her old smile. ‘but that’s what you’ve got the minutemen on your side for. picking up your slack.’

he elbows her for that one. his partner is rude. but she’s talking to him, and it’s a step in the right direction.

-

whisper wants to go directly to the police station. deacon vetoes, erring on the side of caution that screams showing up coated in someone else’s blood isn’t a good idea. he doesn’t let her come with him to hq, either - he can’t give tom that little brain piece without her noticing. she’s been off in her own world the entire walk to diamond city, but she’s still perceptive. she noticed the caravan leaving hangman’s alley before he did. the minutemen certainly are building up quickly.

diamond city security eyes them warily, but danny sullivan recognizes whisper and allows them in.

‘go on ahead, partner, i just need to talk to maccready here for a minute.’ she shrugs and heads into the city, promising to meet him at the dugout inn.

maccready waits, arms crossed. ‘gonna tell me to leave?’

deacon laughs, low and fake. ‘i’m not your boss, kid.’ it strikes a nerve, but maccready hides it well. ‘i’m just wondering how long you’re going to stick around.’

maccready’s gaze shifts to the entrance. and that’s why deacon wears the sunglasses: they hide everything. especially when his own gaze follows. ‘she hasn’t told me to go - ’

‘great. then you’ll watch over her until i get back.’ he claps maccready on the shoulder. ‘thanks, pal.’

the kid just laughs at him, but heads into the city anyway. at least he knows his partner’s in good hands.

-

he all but runs back to hq, eager to get there and back. (to whisper, he thinks, but, if pressed, he’ll never admit.) desdemona doesn’t look surprised to see him waltz back in through the secret tunnel. her expression only changes when she notices he’s alone. see, he reasons, even desdemona notices her absence. it’s not just him. obviously.

‘deacon, have you heard anything about this air ship arriving in the commonwealth?’

deacon ducks around one of the support pillars, trying to find tinker tom. he’s not in his little corner, and there’s carrington giving deacon a dirty look but -

‘elder maxson’s brought his people here, full force,’ he tells des when she clears her throat. ‘whisper’s got a plan to get us up there, all official-like.’

‘speaking of,’ she inquires, ‘where is your partner?’

‘taking the night off in diamond city.’ where’d tom get to, anyway? it’s not like he goes outside. the institute is in the air they breathe up there, he’d say.

‘deacon.’ he stops in his tracks at what he dubs her mom voice. just not to her face. ‘if you’ve been running our newest agent into the ground - ’

‘we killed kellogg,’ he says with a shrug. like it’s an obvious thing. water’s wet, sky’s blue, kellogg’s dead. ‘so she’s taking the night off.’

desdemona blinks, stubs out her cigarette in an ashtray on her stone table. how they all haven’t suffocated from her smoking habits, deacon doesn’t know. ‘kellogg is dead?’

‘yep. and i’ve got this little thing here,’ he digs out the little biomechanical trinket from his pocket. ‘that might help us find where the institute is. but first i have to find out where tinker tom went to.’

tom, as if summoned, pops out from around a corner near the make-shift shooting range. ‘what’s up, dekes?’

‘i need to know if we can get anything off this thing. pulled it straight out of kellogg’s head.’

tom takes it out of his hands, holds it up reverently to the light. ‘i’ll clean it up. see what i can do. from kellogg, you said? oh, this will have tons of information, i know it. des, i’m getting started right away!’ he begins immediately, hooking it up to one of his computers. even carrington looks from him to tom to the piece of metal, muttering, from the brain?

deacon puts his hands on his hips and turns to desdemona with a grin. ‘our accommodating general has also agreed to let us station some agents in minutemen settlements. outpost zimonja especially.’

she shuffles through papers on her table, jotting down notes. ‘that’ll help us in moving synths out of the commonwealth.’ she hums, pleased. ‘well done, deacon. be sure to give my thanks to whisper as well.’

‘glad we brought her into the fold, now? or do you still think she’d be better off as a tourist?’

desdemona huffs and returns to her papers. ‘if i admitted you were correct every time you are, your ego would be worse than it is now.’ she casts him a side glance. ‘but she’s been a great asset. i heard about h2-22, and now kellogg? don’t you dare chase her off, deacon.’

‘wouldn’t think of it, boss.’

-

she finishes washing the blood off her hands, ignoring the stinging of soap in the cuts on her knuckles. if she thinks too much, she can still feel the give of his skull under the butt of the gun, the squelch of his flesh under her fists. whisper rubs harder.

in her room, rented by maccready after vadim recognized him, she undoes the buckles of her ruined combat armor. the splash of blood on her jeans isn’t so remarkable now that her hands are clean, and, besides, deacon’s the one with all the spare clothes. she sits on her bed and pulls her bag over and digs out a holotape from a separate pocket. whisper puts back the little piece of paper the flutters out in its wake.

what would nate think -

whisper loads the holotape, a little strip of clear tape peeks out, her husband’s lettering hi honey! visible, into her pipboy and presses play. immediately she hears the familiar chimes of a mobile. her hand goes to her mouth.

it’s a moment frozen in time, one she can almost see. on the tape, nate laughs and shaun coos, babbling nonsense. ‘just say it, right there. riiight there, go ahead.’ shaun coos again. baba, he says. m-ba.

whisper runs her hands through her hair.

‘i don’t think shaun and i need to tell you how great of a mother you are.’ she can hear the smile in his voice. the warmth. ‘but we’re going to anyway. aren’t we? you are kind, and loving, and funny. that’s right, and patient. so patient.’ he does something that makes shaun laugh again. ‘the amount of times you’ve kept her up late at night, little shaun. countless.’

‘look, with shaun and us all being home together, it’s been an amazing year, but even so, i know our best days are yet to come. there will be changes, sure, things we’ll need to adjust to. i’ll rejoin the civilian workforce.’ she knows how excited he was for that. ‘you’ll shake the dust off your law degree.’ it was on the wall before the bombs -

‘but everything we do, no matter how hard, we do it for our family.’

no matter how hard. she hiccups a laugh. ‘claire, i need help with this speech,’ he had said. ‘you know i’m not as good with words as you are.’

‘now say goodbye, shaun. bye bye,’ nate coaxes. ‘say bye bye.’

she can see him now, sitting on the couch next to their holotape player. he looks up to her, his blue eyes locking with hers, cheeks dimpling as she smiles at her. ‘bye, honey. we love you.’

the tape clicks off, leaving her alone in the silence. she sniffs and it’s deafeningly loud. she breathes, wipes her eyes, and stands. the holotape goes back into its pocket.

‘maccready,’ she says when she reaches him at the bar. ‘i need a drink.’