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"Uhh... that was supposed to happen!" Tom shouted over the electric zapping of the machine, quickly jumping back to the dials to fix whatever was clearly not supposed to happen.
Cherry’s face flooded with panic, the urge to run from the platform growing stronger with each minute.
Tom was about to teleport her from Sanctuary, into the Institute; where not only was she going to find her son, but she was tasked with freeing every Synth she could.
She had tried to put on a brave face, take a page out of the Book of Deacon, and never let on to what you are feeling; however, the rickety craftsmanship of the scavenged-part-sci-fi device and the ultimate pressure of the situation left her without a calm nerve in her body.
And then, as if sensing her fear, Deacon was there, launching himself into Cherry’s line of sight and blurting out the first nonsensical thing he could think of.
"Hey, Charmer!" He called, "if only one-half of you actually transports to the Institute, which half would you leave behind?”
Her eyes zeroed in on him, trading half of her panic for confusion, but on the whole, she remained unphased by his efforts.
Personally, I'd like to keep your left side, since it has your shooting arm... but-"
"Got it!"
Tom slammed his hand down on a button, causing a distinct zap above the din of the electricity.
Blue shards of lightning shot down at Cherry, striking each of her limbs in a way that should have killed her immediately. They came more rapidly as the seconds passed, growing brighter, until she was completely cloaked in light, blinding every onlooker.
And then, with a loud crash and a shudder that knocked her compatriots to the floor, Cherry vanished.
The three Railroad agents slowly picked themselves off the ground; ears ringing, eyes filled with black spots- shock on their faces as they observed their workspace.
The equipment they had so painstakingly built was fried to a blackened crisp, and Cherry was gone.
She hadn't even looked any less scared before it happened. She had managed to reign in her expression, but her eyes had clearly screamed: "I don't know what's going to happen to me."
The eyes'll get you every time.
And right now, Deacon was extremely grateful that his sunglasses hid the fact that his eyes were about as wide as they could go.
It worked.
Either that or they incinerated her.
Oh shit. Oh shit.
They incinerated her. That's it. She's gone. The only person Deacon had vaguely gotten close and opened up to, and they zapped her into oblivion.
Fuck.
Deacon's chest felt as though a Brahmin were standing on it. He had to go after her- he had to find out if she was okay. Even if the machine had transported her safely, who knows what kind of awful shit was waiting for her on the other side.
Deacon started towards the equipment to see if any of it was functional when he snapped back to reality. Des and Tom were staring at him from the platform with concern on their faces.
"Deacon?"
He thought about what he must look like at that moment: jaw dropped to accommodate his ragged, panicked breathing, fists balled up at his sides in keeping with the visible tension that wracked through the rest of his body. Things that his sunglasses couldn't hide from the rest of the world.
"...I was just telling Tom that we should head back to HQ. We have a lot to discuss and plan before Charmer returns..."
Deacon shook it off. If Des knew what was running through his mind, not only would his reputation as the "cool guy who doesn't care" be ruined, but she would definitely not allow him and Charmer to continue their partnership- not if he was this attached to her.
"Deacon, are you alright?"
Attached? Deacon admonished his choice of words- he didn't get attached. He was just concerned for his partner who he just so happened to casually enjoy spending his time with.
No, he wasn't attached, and her going to the Institute was not a big deal... but just in case-
"Me? Never better! In fact, I'm a little hungry. I think I'm gonna hang around here for a few days and see if I can scrounge up some genuine 2077 suburb canned goods."
Des stepped towards him with caution and suspicion. "You want to stay?"
Deacon knew he would have to be as blasé as possible if he wanted to pull this off. Luckily, that was what he did best.
"Yeah, you know, I was just thinking that these people can't possibly survive without at least one coherent person, and with Charmer gone, I'm the next best thing." Des crossed her arms and stared down her nose at him. He was going to have to try harder. "...Plus, I was kind of hoping I could snag the title of 'General' from her before she gets back."
That did it. Des rolled her eyes- the explanation was so Deacon that it had to be true. That, or she simply didn't want to waste any more time trying to get him back to HQ.
"Yes, well- try not to spend too much time here, we have a lot to discuss. Especially when Charmer returns."
Deacon mockingly stood at attention and saluted before turning on his heel and wandering off, into the town.
He waited an hour after he was sure that Des had left before snagging a chair and setting himself up in front of the ruined launch site.
Two days passed before anyone noticed that he hadn't moved from the spot.
Another day passed while the residents of Sanctuary awkwardly milled about, deciding which of them should go over and check on him.
Eventually, Codsworth happened upon the group and immediately offered to attend to him, much to the relief of Piper, Nick, and Preston.
"Master Deacon?" He called as he approached the still figure in the chair, "wouldn't you perhaps enjoy moving to a less exposed area? I can provide you with nourishment and a bed while you wait for Miss Cherry."
Deacon grunted something that sounded like a no, without moving a muscle.
"I know that you're worried about her... but I assure you that she will be fine!" He urged, "Miss Cherry is a brave, intelligent woman- and I have no doubt that she will return soon!"
Deacon shook his head vacantly.
"It's not that," he responded with only a hint of his normal tone, "I'm in a staring contest with that dark blob over there, and if I go inside, I'll never forgive myself for losing this battle."
"Oh dear..."
Codsworth hovered quietly for a moment, processing what to do with him. Eventually, he left, returning briefly to drop off food and water. If he was going to sit out there, waiting for her to return, he should at least be alive and well by the time she gets back.
He then left Deacon to his own devices, puttering over to inform the rest of the onlookers of the situation.
Four more days passed after that moment. Attempts at interaction were minimal- people were frightened by his behavior. No one had ever witnessed Deacon so candidly focused and worried... though he kept his façade up high enough to pretend that he wasn't.
But no matter what strange excuses he came up with, his intentions became clear after that night with Codsworth.
So they left him to his own devices.
Deacon noticed, of course- he noticed everything. But he couldn't bring himself to care that his image was quickly crumbling beneath this behavior. He had more important things to focus on, like Charmer....
And what excuse he was going to give her when she found him there, waiting.
His eyes fell on the clouds in the distance- thick, menacing, dark- even as he peeked over the tops of his sunglasses.
It had been a miracle that the weather had been as nice as it had been in the past week- at least it wasn't a rad storm.
He let out a long exhale through his nose and leaned back in his chair, anchoring his feet on the crate in front of him.
As drops of water began to plop themselves all around him, Deacon closed his eyes, picturing what it would be like if she came back right at that moment.
He would have set everything up to look as though he was out in the storm, trying to get a tan.
A Nuka-Cola next to him, Diamond City radio playing softly under an umbrella- and one of those weird light refractor things he had seen in old magazines... the ones that looked like a school fair poster board with tin foil on it? He would strip down to his underwear, too- though the thought of hypothermia poked at him from the back of his mind.
Somewhere close by, lightning touched down- the loud crack sounding throughout the small town, with a bright flash of light that permeated Deacon's closed eyelids.
He imagined that it was Charmer- the transporter dropping her somewhere near the start of Sanctuary. She would run to check in with the residents, to let her companions know that she was alright.
They would, of course, rat him out- telling her that he had been waiting there for her for the past week.
But Deacon was confident that he would be able to bullshit his way out of very obviously looking like he had been ten minutes away from forcing Tinker Tom to fix the relay so he could go in after her.
No, he would be cool and casual, just like he always was.
His tanning screen would reflect her approaching figure, readying him for his big lie.
"Charmer!" He would call, not moving a muscle, "come to soak up some vitamin D? Grab a chair and join me!"
She would be in shock from what she saw- expecting to find him dirty and desperate (from what the residents would have described) and instead she would see plain old Deacon, looking as sharp as ever.
She would take a few steps forward, and after a few moments, she would ask "...Deacon?"
His eyebrows quirked up in surprise at how realistic his imagination had made this fantasy- almost as if she were actually there.
Wishful thinking.
He shook off the thought and continued- picturing the look of confusion on her face as she walked slowly towards him, expecting some sort of larger reaction to her arrival.
She would reach his side, squatting down so she could be at his level and place her hand on him.
"Deacon."
He froze.
There was no way his imagination could produce the pressure on his shoulder or the clear sound of her voice right by his ear.
Deacon’s eyes snapped open, and he slowly turned his head to where he had heard her.
Sure enough, she was there, not even a foot from where he sat.
Be calm, his mind cautioned- but his body was already in motion, spinning him out of his chair to look down at her.
Cherry stood slowly, watching Deacon with a mixture of concern and amusement- like a baby that was wobbling on its first steps.
Deacon realized vaguely that he hadn't said a word in the few minutes this interaction had yielded. But he was too preoccupied, analyzing her for any sign of injury, or a trap, that he couldn’t bring himself to break the silence and slip back into his persona.
No, not now. Not when she was actually there- healthy, safe, in one piece, looking at him with more affection than he could ever deserve.
"Deacon, w-" Charmer began, but something had snapped inside of him.
Deacon stepped forward to close the distance between them, sliding his hands into the hair on either side of her face as he pressed his lips passionately to hers.
Her body was tense with surprise for only a moment before she sank into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his waist and sighing against his mouth.
Deacon was intense- yet oddly soft. His left hand had tangled itself in her hair, but there was no tug, no pain or possession to the action. It was simply the act of conveying how much he cared- how her absence had made him realize that he wanted to be as close to her as he possibly could.
It left Cherry teary eyed and weak in the knees, and she mirrored his motions, hoping to send back even an ounce of the feelings he was pouring into her.
They broke apart after a while, resting their foreheads against each other as they caught their breath. Deacon stole a few more pecks from her lips, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs.
When he was sure he could speak without his voice breaking, Deacon pulled back, still cupping her cheek, and whispered, "that was from Dez."
A mixture of indignation and amusement fell into place as Cherry's jaw dropped. "You're an asshole.”
Cherry then extracted herself from his grip and walked towards her house, flipping Deacon off the entire time.
"What!?" He called, beaming from ear to ear, "she was really worried about you!"
The crack of her laughter in the distance sent a thrill through him. He would give up his reputation a thousand times over just to hear that sound every day, though he would never admit it to himself.
But even so, in the second before Deacon ran to catch up with her, an honest thought slipped through his defenses:
God, I missed her.