Chapter Text
It was a bright early morning at Egret Tours Marina, the fog hiding the world around them. A small cry was coming from the newly built sanctuary and Lupe, with her bags ready, hurried over. In one of the pens were Pickle and his new friend, a Yao Guai cub named Bobby; and they were hungry.
Getting them some food, Lupe stayed for a while, petting her little deathclaw. It was sad to have to leave after spending two great weeks there, taking care of him and working with other people who love animals. But she had work to do, and she knew Pickle was safe there now. He wouldn’t be alone, having bonded pretty well with Bobby, and she had taught Bobby’s owner how to handle Pickle. Everything would be fine. But still.
“I’ll miss you, Pickle. I’ll come visit whenever I can, at least once a week,” she promised him, scratching his chin as he chewed on some meat.
She had been careful not to spend too much time with him the last few days, making her departure less abrupt. He was a big boy now, a bit bigger than he was when he ran through the walls of HQ, and he needed to adapt.
When it was time to leave, she showed him her bag and put it on. When he stepped closer, she gently pressed on his head to show that he had to stay. He was sad about it, but she smiled, petting him to assure him it wasn’t forever. She would be back. One last hug and she closed the cage, waving goodbye to her little Pickle.
The Nightingale boys had returned to their base in Boston, so she traveled with the caravan this time. The short trip started out fine, the clouds providing a nice bit of cool shade. But they had to pick up the pace when they heard distant rumbles in the clouds. They had followed the railway and were just about to go down the hill by the road to HQ. That’s when the rain started pouring down. Rushing ahead, Lupe shook off as much water as she could before entering the building.
As she entered, she noticed two new people. One new guard talking to a stranger by the other side of the entrance. The stranger noticed her and he chuckled.
“What weather, huh? I’m glad I wasn’t caught in it. Would be a bad first impression!”
“Heh, yeah,” she nervously chuckled back and walked up to the guard who stood by her side of the entrance, “Hi, Lupe De La Fuente, head of logistics, reporting in.”
As she was checked in, the stranger kept talking to the new guard. “Never been in here before. Were things as tidy when the Gunners ran the place? They don’t look like the type to care this much about interior design. This is cleaner than Diamond City!”
Brook kept a blank face, “An untidy work environment passively drains people’s energy and we have a lot of sensitive equipment. It’s important to keep the place clean.”
“Hm, true but it’s also inspiring; a breath of fresh air,” he pointed out, “I gotta say, I’ve worked in a lot of buildings before and always had to wear a gas mask because of all the dust we kicked up. Here… fresh as outside! …well, maybe not right now, with all the rain, but you know what I mean. …that reminds me, you don’t get any leaks in here either, do ya? No sudden fires by the outlets? Random piece of a Vertibird crashing in through the roof? …I’m serious, that happened once.”
Curious about what the man was doing there, Lupe stayed by the doors to the atrium. The stranger wore a clean striped suit and had his bleach blonde hair in a single long braid going down to his shoulder blades. Rather unusually clean and trimmed for someone sounding like the type of talkative guy you’d meet at a bar. Oh, the people you can find in the wasteland…
“Hey, Lupe,” she turned to see Aiden arrive, “go get a towel before you get cold.” Would’ve seemed thoughtful of him had he not sounded somewhat irritated as usual. As Lupe headed to her room, Aiden walked over to Brook, “Fill me in.”
“Charles Garman, 32, from a town to the west. Polite, seemingly intelligent. …chatty,” she explained, “He wants to join HQ but he’s not sent by the chief.”
“She’s the one who calls the shots on recruitment,” Aiden sighed, “But we’ll need a proper report before we contact her. Follow me, Mr. Garman.”
Escorted to the medical wing, Charles got scanned by the Vit-O-Matic and treated for some traces of chems. From “an old habit he kicked” apparently. After a quick interview, Aiden had enough for the report. He went over to the Comm Array room, contacted Chief Ilene, and discussed it with her. They concluded it was worth a shot, Charles seeming perfect for administration with his high charisma and intelligence.
“I’m sure Theresa would love another member in her team, it’s been difficult finding people for her,” the chief pointed out. “Speaking of, how is it going with Brook?”
“It seems she likes it here. She found her place, helping me keep the team in shape. Works very efficiently,” Aiden replied. “She’s an excellent addition to the team.”
“Sounds like someone’s going soft on her,” Jake teased, peeking over a console, having caught Aiden’s somewhat soft tone.
“What? Can’t I appreciate getting someone already well-equipped?” Aiden calmly combatted the tease. “I usually get mercs, hunters, and caravan guards. And they all need a crash course on the type of security we need here. Brook has been very helpful with that.”
Ilene chuckled, “Glad to hear, Aiden. I knew she’d work well at HQ, didn’t expect you’d end up getting an assistant! …okay, I need to head out. Was there anything else?”
“That’s all, chief.”
“Alright then, I’ll check in later this evening. Over and out.”
When Lupe got to her room, she found two letters on her desk. Leaving her bags by a corner, she opened the first one, and it contained two different-sized copies of a photograph. She chuckled when she saw it, remembering the day. The chief had come by and photographed her and Pickle, and she had promised Lupe she’d get it in two sizes; one pocket size, and one to frame and have in her room.
She quickly found a frame in her little cabinet of salvaged items. It was a little too big but it was good enough for now. The pocket photo was reserved for a special place. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a wallet. It had two pockets for photos, one contained an old photo of her parents. Sliding the new photo into the free pocket, she took a moment to smile at the two photos. Before the war, wallets were used to keep currency. Now, hers served to keep something of a different value.
With the wallet back in her pocket, she opened the second letter. She could already tell who it was from. She and Ellis wanted to stay in contact, and since they wouldn’t have consistent schedules that allowed a dedicated time for radio calls, they decided to write letters. Philip would work south of Boston as a traveling doctor, and he was happy to be their courier.
She was supposed to unpack and get to work, but she figured it couldn’t hurt to read the letter real quick. The two letters she had already gotten had some short stories. If it was the same with this new one, it wouldn’t take too long. So, sitting down on her couch, she unfolded the paper and started reading.
Things had been normal, he wrote - and by that, he meant they had another batch of crazy chem-heads to treat. Most of them only needed simple treatment but one was in critical condition. As horrible as it was, it was fascinating to see how her body handled all those chems at the same time. Somehow, the combination did not cause her system to collapse.
He thanked her for her previous letter, happy to know the sanctuary project went well and that Pickle had made a friend. He then ended by wishing her good luck with her work at HQ, and he looked forward to seeing her again someday.
She felt a little thrill, thinking about what they could possibly do when they see each other again. Maybe she could visit the hospital and see his workplace, or invite him over for a game or movie night. Theresa did suggest they’d use the training room for that - since it was arranged much like a theater. Or maybe they could go visit Pickle - since he seemed to have fun when he stayed there the first day.
But that was for the day when they both had the time. Now was the time to get back to work.
“Damn, this place is prettier than a painting, it’s like we’re back to before the war,” Charles commented as he followed Brook up the spiral staircase. “...and is that… a bar over there? Woah, and pool table! And Diamond City is officially no longer the prettiest place in the Commonwealth. …not that it was very pretty to begin with.”
Brook didn’t make a sound, she just kept walking, leading him down the corridor to find Theresa.
“...Brook, was it? How long have you been here?”
“Two weeks,” she simply replied.
“...and you like it here?”
“Yes.”
He chuckled, “Not much of a talker, are you?”
“You’re assigned to administration, you’ll find plenty of talkers there. I’m still assigned to entrance security and would rather not get too occupied.”
Charles gave a small sigh in disappointment and gave up, watching as they turned the corner and arrived at the corridor with the meeting room and training room. There, leaning against one of the pillars was Theresa and she was laughing about something with Fergus.
Walking up to her, Brook cleared her throat, “Miss Fortunato, you have a new recruit.” Before Theresa could say anything, Brook turned to look at Fergus, “Aren’t you supposed to fix the roof surveillance, Fergus?”
“Y-yeah, I was about to go up and do it - but there’s nothing wrong with a quick chat, is there?” he nervously asked.
Brook narrowed her eyes and took a step back, spun around, and started marching down the hall. No words were needed to understand what she was doing.
Fergus quickly rushed after her, “WAIT! BROOK, I GET IT! I get it! I’m going! You don’t need to tell Aiden! Look, I’m going to the elevator!”
“It doesn’t go to the roof,” she pointed out, just in time for the elevator doors to close and muffle Fergus’ curse words.
Charles chuckled and turned to Theresa, “Quite the colorful characters you got here. …was that your boyfriend?”
“No, he just loves acting like a gentleman around me, it’s an inside joke,” she explained.
“Phew… or, well, this place is definitely more civilized than the place I came from,” he scratched the back of his head, “I get a bit anxious when I’m talking to someone’s girl, what with the lack of courtesy to warn me first…”
“Sounds like a bad place. But yeah, I know everyone here and I doubt anyone would act like that,” she assured.
“Glad to hear. And say, what's that inside joke if you don’t mind telling me? I’m quite curious.”
“Oh, I dropped some things and he picked them up for me. When he handed a small box to me, he was on one knee and people pointed out it looked like he was proposing. He made it into a good joke and we laughed it off, and now we’ve become pretty good pals.”
“Heh, that’s certainly one way to make good friends,” he chuckled, “I’m Charles, by the way. Charles Garman.”
Shaking his hand, Theresa introduced herself, “Theresa Fortunato, head of administration. Nice to meet you, Charles. And welcome aboard.”
The days went by and work continued as normal. While the walls were renovated, there were plenty of rearrangements that needed to be done. A few rooms needed to be totally renovated and they came up with ways to use the space more efficiently.
With more projects came more demands for supplies. But with Cedric's arm still recovering from his accident, he was unable to note everything down himself. So Lupe got to walk around the building with him to discuss materials. And now and then, she'd see Charles. He was quite chatty, liked to help out, and have fun with his colleagues.
It was always nice to see new people find a place in HQ; to be so happy to work there. And it seemed Charles was especially happy to work with Theresa, seeing how sweetly he spoke to her.
But one day, she had dealt with a caravan that had just arrived, when Charles came from the infirmary and almost bumped into her.
“Oh, sorry!” She quickly apologized and went past him.
“It’s alright,” he sighed. But just as she was about two steps past him, he mumbled, “Wet rat.”
She heard that. She heard him just fine, and couldn’t quite believe it. Why did he call her that? She had washed her hair that morning but it was dry now; she didn’t look wet. Was it because she was soggy from the rain the first time they met? She was puzzled, and couldn’t deny the small red flag.
This wasn’t the first time she saw him in the infirmary.
When she had the time, she went straight to Theresa and explained what happened.
“He called me “wet rat”. I’ve barely talked to him, I- I don’t know what his deal is!”
“Don’t think too much about it, kid,” Theresa assured as she hung up a painting in the meeting room. “He has some anger management issues from his time in Maynard, he’s probably just having a bad day. Now, what do you think? Too big?”
Taking a step back to look at the painting, Lupe gave it a thought, “Seems okay, I guess.”
Theresa sighed, “I wish we had more paintings. These walls are so boring. Should probably get some plants in here too…”
“But Theresa, I…” Lupe tried, “I just have this feeling something isn’t right with Charles. I’ve seen him sneaking around in the infirmary several times and he just…”
Turning to give Lupe her full attention, Theresa sighed and patted her head, “There we have it. We had quite a few small accidents earlier and can’t take a big stack of bandages. You know, regulations and all that. So he volunteered to get as many as we could. He was probably just tired of how careless a few seemed to be.”
It wasn’t enough to calm her completely but it made sense. She had no more concerns. No more cards to play with. Her worry was defeated, slowly fading as she processed it. “Okay… I just… got worried.”
“It’s alright. He didn’t get here through the chief, so I got my concerns too,” she assured. “But so far, I don’t think he’s bad, just needs some work. Just give him some time.”
“Easy for you to say, he’s practically flirting with you,” Lupe jokingly teased.
“Heh, I know,” she chuckled. “But it won’t help him. He’s not my type and I know how to handle it, thanks to Fergus.”
Sitting down on a chair as Theresa prepared another painting, Lupe hesitated for a brief moment, “What is your type, anyway?”
Giving it a thought, Theresa shrugged, “I guess… someone who’s the complete opposite of Aiden. So, caring, sweet, funny, humble… can be serious when he needs to be…”
“Like Fergus?” Lupe tried not to laugh, the connection was quite clear and quite ironic.
“Pfft! …sure,” she chuckled, “Now come on, let’s get these paintings up.”