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Well, it wasn’t pretty, but ever was these days?
The obliging ruins supplied the Minutemen with ample cement and bricks to patch the walls. They started with the hole on the southern side of the fort for no other reason than prior experience with what lived beyond it; one giant acid-spewing lobster monster was enough, thank you very much.
This project only just begun, but already she swelled with pride just looking down at the progress they’d made. She let her legs dangle from the ledge they’d be continuing to fill in tomorrow, facing Boston proper while the sunset painted the sky behind the towering buildings a lovely shade of barely-radioactive pink.
Her boot heels scraped along the uneven edge of the wall. She almost didn’t hear the sound of steps behind her.
“Evening, General.” His voice made the coiled muscles in her back unwind. Like a comforting campfire in a forest filled with danger; like laying in a real bed after weeks spent camping on cold ground; like a hot bath to take the road off her skin. Or, she thought as she glanced over her shoulder to watch him approach and noted the two bottles he carried, a cool drink after a long day of work. He held them aloft, as if she wouldn’t have spotted the treasures instantly. “Mind if I join you?”
She nodded, and though there was plenty of room on the ledge, she scooted over for him. More an invitation than because he needed the space. And he took it for what it was, dropping down directly next to her instead of anywhere else he’d have fit just fine on the wall. With several feet of space in either direction, he made himself comfortable close enough to feel her body heat.
Preston pried the cap off one with the buckle of his belt; he didn’t make a show of it, though he could have, since he had to realize he’d be drawing her attention downward. Condensation slid down the brown bottle. He must’ve gotten it out of the underground armory, where they’d taken to keeping their cold storage. A long way to go for a drink, she thought. For once, he wasn’t wearing any gloves, and she almost regretted that his soft skin didn’t make contact with hers when he handed the beer over.
“Thanks, Preston,” she said, lifting the bottle in a small salute before taking her first sip.
He followed suit, and the comfortable silence lasted until the sky finally went dark and the fort below lit up with buzzing electric yellow lights. The only sounds around them were from the patrolling soldiers elsewhere on the wall, the droll of Freedom Radio, and the echoed chatter from the mess hall that reverberated through the stone structure.Between them, just relaxed sighs and calm breathing.
“Not feeling talkative tonight?” she asked. Her empty bottle clinked gently beside her. They’d torch the glass with a laser out of one of the old rifles and find some use for it later.
Normally, when they had the leisure of a night free of gunfire, he had something to say about the Minutemen, about all the work left to be done, about different projects he wanted to see for the Castle or other settlements. Sometimes he would go on about the glory days of their organization, or what it meant to him. There was always something more, though, a sadness lingering just under the surface. She could see the unsaid confessions at the tip of his tongue, hinted at but never spoken. Every time he got comfortable and began to spill his feelings, she hoped that the rest would come out, whatever it was. It never did.
There was something personal, painful. Something like guilt in the shadows of his eyes that she recognized all too well. And while she could imagine what he’d been through, between the stories he’d told and what she knew the Commonwealth to be, she would wait for him to tell her.
Hopefully, he’d be ready to say it soon. The sooner he let it out, the sooner she could help him work through it.
They were gonna save the Commonwealth together. Only fair that he let her save him, right?
“Naw,” he said, and he tipped the bottle back to kill the lukewarm remains. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be a bore. But it’s been a long day for all of us, I think.”
“So, you went digging through the armory for a couple of beers and came all the way up here just to enjoy the lovely brine smell with me?” she joked.
“Yeah. As a matter of fact, I did.” He smiled, a wide, easy grin. “That alright?”
“Always, Colonel. Keep bringing me beers like this, though, and you may end up spoiling me. Not sure how I’ll be expected to go fighting raiders if I can’t be promised a pint at the end.”
Everything about him was warm. Comforting. He laughed, a low sound from his chest, and agreed, “Sure would make the thankless work a lot more gratifying.”
“A cold beer. A hot meal. This really is a castle,” she continued.
“Beds under a solid roof. We’ve got it pretty good. But it’s the people out there who need our help.” He pointed demonstratively eastward. Really, he could have just made a sweeping gesture at everything in view. Maybe he was feeling optimistic.
“When the rest of the Commonwealth gets as good as this, you think we’ll still be too busy protecting it to enjoy it?”
Preston laughed again, drawing a smile across the general’s face. God damn, but everything that came out of him was so earnest. “I’ll make sure you stop to smell the roses. You’ll have earned every bit of it.”
“As long as you promise to stop with me.” She tapped a nail against the empty bottle still in his hands. “No fun, drinking alone, or enjoying the hot meals, or the beds under a solid roof.”
“Hah, you know I’m always happy to share a brew and a meal with you.”
He missed that last part. Oh, well. The general’s eyes went to the towers of Boston, where he’d been pointing before. Their Commonwealth. Their mission, their vow. They’d save this place together. “Good. We make a good team, Preston. I wouldn’t be here without you. Wouldn’t be doing the good I’m doing, if not for you. Heck, probably wouldn’t be alive without you.”
When she looked back, she nearly apologized, though she wasn’t sure for what. His eyes were on her, but downcast, on her shoulder like he was realizing that she was there for the first time that night, like he’d thought he’d been alone until she snuck up this very moment. Amber eyes were soft, brows knitted in some unfathomable expression that toed someplace between hurt and realization.
“Sorry, was that-- sorry, please, don’t take that the wrong way,” she started.
“N-no!” Preston’s gaze went back to her eyes, throat clenching on a stiff swallow that just wasn’t working. But that pained expression was fast dissolving back into that easy smile she took such comfort in. “I… That means a lot, General. Especially coming from you, of all people. I… We all have you to thank for so much.”
“You’re too sweet, Preston. Spoiling me, I swear!” he said once he wasn’t the hugging type. Hopefully, he wouldn’t mind a kiss on the cheek as she stood. Just a quick peck, barely brushing her lips on the light scruff of his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin tickle against her nose. She finished with a pat on the shoulder, more General-to-Colonel in nature, and excused herself with a yawned-out, “G’night!”
And as she walked the wall back toward the stairs, she glanced back to see if he was following.
No, he sat right where she left him, still as the stone beneath him. Maybe it was a trick of the shadows, but she was sure he had his hand pressed against his cheek.