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“I don't get it. Why—Weyland come on I just—what the hell—Elias!” MacCready stuttered, dodging around his lover's near-mechanical back-and-forth storming about the room. He was a blur of blue and brown, the vault suit hugging his backside each time he bent over normally a welcome and pleasing sight to the mercenary. But now, Elias was tromping back and forth around the small apartment he'd built above the communal bunkhouse they'd established on the lot of the old Starlight Drive-In. He had cabinets and dressers thrown open, and was throwing things into a wooden crate he'd hauled up wordlessly, his eyes wide and empty, his full lips turned down in a grimace. Like a man possessed, he hurled clothing, blankets, and toys into the crate.
Toys.
MacCready saw the wooden blocks clank into the wooden container, atop the blanket speckled with rocket ships they had found once. Elias had mentioned they'd been decorating Shaun's room with rockets. He'd even shown him the bent ruins of the mobile that hung over his splintered, termite-nibbled crib, still sitting in the remains of their family's happy little home. Casting a nervous glance to Elias, MacCready pulled the blanket aside, realizing exactly what the crate's contents were. Teddy bears. Toy aliens and rockets, trucks and cars. The few scraps of baby clothes they'd found. Old unused diapers scavved and kept. Wooden blocks with letters on them. A few pieces of a Giddyup Buttercup that Elias had been tinkering with during their downtime, happy to have a project to busy his mind with when his body needed rest. He'd been looking forward to finishing it for Shaun.
Shaun.
“What happened in there?” MacCready asked, stepping back. His gut knotted up, thinking of any number of answers to that question, all of them making him think of Duncan.
Elias shoved a stuffed Jangles the Moon Monkey into the crate, his breath coming in heavier, more uneven heaves. He paused, looking up at the shorter man from where he was bent over, shoulders hunched up. “RJ, he's—” the soldier, the vault-dweller, the man out of time shook, licking his lips, unable to find the words to articulate everything. He had no idea how. Not now. Not so soon, so raw.
He had appeared at the drive-in's gate in a flash of light, startling everyone in the settlement and sending Jen, the ghoul who manned their weapons shop, tumbling over the counter of her stand for cover, her rifle trained on Elias the moment she got behind the structure. He'd fallen to his knees, finally able to let his emotions flood in outside the eyes of that damned underground lair. Several people rushed over, and by the time MacCready had gotten to him, Preston Garvey was already trying to drag him to his feet, asking him if he was hurt.
Preston had no idea just how badly he was.
“...he's gone,” Elias murmured, hanging his head. “Shaun's not coming back.”
“Oh no,” MacCready sighed, wrapping his arms around the taller man and pulling him away from the crate. “God, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.” Elias nearly collapsed into him, burying his face in the mercenary's neck and squeezing him close, too tight. Like if he let go he'd lose him, too. For his part, the smaller man held him, measuring his breaths and trying not to join the silent sobs that heaved through his lover's chest. He'd never seen Elias cry. Sure, they hadn't been together for that long, but for all of the heartache and trauma the man had gone through, he'd always kept a smirk on his lips and a determined spring in his step.
But how could he be determined when his son was gone? When his whole reason for this rampage of revenge, his whole purpose out here in the wastes, in this alien time he'd been forced into, wasn't there anymore?
“RJ,” Elias sighed weakly, his voice wobbling, the collar of the mercenary's jacket soaked in his tears. “I don't know what to do.”
“What you gotta do,” MacCready replied, knowing that feeling too well. But where he had Duncan when he'd lost Lucy, Elias had lost both wife and son before he could blink. “You keep going.”
“I can't. I can't do this.”
“You don't have to. Not now, at least.” Petting through his lover's short, tight curls, MacCready fought back his own emotions. Elias needed him more than anything right now. “For now, you mourn. Look. We can take care of this, box. These things. If you wanna give 'em away, or sell 'em to a caravan, we can do that. You wanna take that fuc— that thing to the top of the screen and light it on fire, we can do that too. I'm here for you, no matter what.”
He didn't think it was possible for Elias to clutch him any tighter, but was proven wrong as the ex-soldier squeezed him tightly. “Thank you.”