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In that moment, all Deacon could think about was Cecil’s safety.
It had been Cecil’s idea to infiltrate the Brotherhood of Steel, to bring them down from the inside and get whoever they could out of there. He had successfully begun sneaking recruits that had been forced in, aka kids who had no clue what they were signing up for, and with the help of the newly exiled Paladin Danse and the reluctant Scribe Haylen, about thirty had been removed from the Prydwen. However, this hadn’t gone unnoticed. Elder Maxson had begun to suspect the vault dweller of treason ever since Danse’s exile, when he had talked him into letting a synth go free.
Everything went to hell when he was shot. Brotherhood knights had completely surrounded him in the moment he stepped out of his power armor, hitting him in the kneecap so that he couldn’t escape. The newly crippled Cecil was taken easily, strung up in a private room on the Prydwen for interrogation. However, the young man was relisiant, refusing to spill any of the Railroad’s secrets.
The Brotherhood had been quick to alert the Railroad, as well as the Minutemen, that their agent had been captured and would be killed. The Minutemen were quick to contact the Railroad, arrange a meeting, and begin planning the rescue. The two groups, along with all of Cecil’s friends and companions, had decided to meet in an abandoned building several blocks from the Brotherhood airship. It was in this moment that Deacon began to mildly panic.
It had been up to him to look out for the vault dweller in this risky mission, watching for any signs of suspicion from the Brotherhood, and yet look what had happened. They were no doubt torturing the poor man for information, and Deacon knew from experience how ruthless they were in their methods. After the months the two had spent together roaming the wasteland and saving the innocents of the Commonwealth, Cecil had gotten captured, and it was all his fault. At least, that’s what he had been telling himself. He was getting tortured, beaten, abused, all because of him…
Okay, maybe he was panicking more than he thought.
“Alright everyone,” Desdemona began, resting her hands on the edge of the large table and snapping Deacon from his thoughts. “Danse has contacted Haylen, and it seems they placed her in charge of interrogating Charmer because of their known friendship. They think she’d be able to get more out of him than anyone else. What we need to do is to capture one of their vertibirds and get up on the Prydwen, we can find Haylen from there. A small team will go up in Brotherhood uniforms, provided by Deacon, recover Charmer, and blow the Prydwen up from the inside.”
“The team will consist of me, Preston, and Piper.” Deacon said, folding his arms and trying to keep the panic out of his voice. “Tinker Tom will fly us up there, and a few more soldiers will be waiting in there to help eliminate Brotherhood soldiers once we’re discovered.”
“I still don’t like this.” Danse muttered uncomfortably. “The Brotherhood was all I had, and here I am about to destroy it.”
“They cast you off to the side as soon as they found out you were a synth, and now they’re torturing the friend who saved your life, in case you forgot. What’s there to be uncomfortable about?!” Deacon snapped, scowling at Danse.
“Deacon, calm down.” Desdemona commanded, watching as Deacon hesitated before standing down.
“Listen, kid, I get that you’re anxious, but we got to work together on this. All of us.” Nick reasoned, looking between both Danse and Deacon. “After all Cecil has done for us, after every time he’s saved us, it’s time to save him for a change. And to do that, we need to cooperate.”
Danse sighed. “Valentine is right. Cecil’s life is the most important thing to focus on.”
“Exactly.” Desdemona nodded. “There’s a vertibird parked on top of the Cambridge Police Station. Our team will go in with Tinker Tom and capture it, then infiltrate the Prydwen.”
“What’ll we do? Sit on our hands and hum while you do all the work?” Hancock questioned, folding his arms.
“I was getting to that. Everyone else will stay on the ground and watch our team’s backs, with the exception of the soldiers that’ll be hiding on the vertibird. We don’t want them shot out of the sky.”
“Uh huh.” Hancock nodded, not very happy with his role in things. But, he’d take what he could get.
“Any questions?” Des paused for a moment before nodding. “Alright everyone, move out.”
Deacon, Piper, and Preston nearly sprinted out of the room, weapons at the ready and Tinker Tom in tow. They were some of the closest to Cecil, aside from Nick, Hancock, and Danse, and they were desperate to get their friend to safety. With Deacon’s blossoming feelings for the vault dweller in the mix, he was panicking like there was no tomorrow. They tore through the Brotherhood soldiers, clearing the station in a matter of minutes.
As Deacon tapped his foot against the concrete of the roof and Tom worked the vertibird, they could hear the gunfire from below as the fight raged on. He could clearly hear Dogmeat’s barking and occasional howls as the pooch fought for his master. Preston rested a reassuring hand on Deacon’s shoulder.
“Cecil’s strong. He’ll be okay.” He muttered, not so certain himself.
“We can only hope.” Piper said, glancing at Tom before folding her arms.
“Alright alright! Hop on in, this baby is good, to, go!” Tom yelled as the vertibird’s propellers whirred to life.
The small team climbed onto the vertibird just as Tom began to hover above the ground. Deacon reached into his pack and handed Piper and Preston their initiate uniforms, changing into his own quickly. The situation was dire enough for none of them to care much about privacy.
As Tom parked the vertibird on the Prydwen, the trio hopped off and began trying to locate Scribe Haylen. Danse had given a thorough description of her appearance, and where she would be located on the airship. They quickly made their way into the interior of the ship, searching around desperately for Haylen.
In the corner or the vast room, they could see a small blonde woman scanning the crowd. Upon seeing them, her eyes widened slightly and she subtly motioned for them to come over. They made their way across the room, avoiding the gaze of most of the officers.
“You made it! Good.” She murmured. “Come with me, I’ll show you how to get to him.”
The trio followed close behind her, their heads lowered and close on Haylen’s tail. Deacon’s eyes glared into her back from behind his shades, high on his guard on the off chance she was leading them into a trap. Piper and Preston were close at his sides, hands hovering over their weapons. Seems they had the same idea in mind.
Haylen turned the corner, pace picking up as fewer and fewer soldiers came into their view. She glanced behind her before unlocking a door and ushering the trio inside. After she came inside, she locked the door behind her.
“Alright, we should be safe here. Maxson wanted a specific set of people back here, so he only gave a few of us the passcode. The other two are distracted, so we should be fine.” She whispered, leading them down a small, dark hallway.
“Just get us to Cecil before anyone else finds out.” Deacon whispered harshly.
“Deacon!” Piper scolded in a hushed tone. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth!”
Deacon sighed before following Haylen to yet another door, though this one much more menacing. She quickly unlocked it, spilling light into the dark room.
Cecil hung from a power armor station, wrists being cuffed to the metal bars and stretched over his head. Deacon could see the bruises scattered along his exposed torso even with the poor lighting. Dried blood covered his left calf, staining the Brotherhood uniform he donned. The front of it had been torn off, likely in an attempt to humiliate him. The scars under his breasts, the one he had been too embarrassed to show anyone, were displayed out in the open. Deacon could only imagine what he had gone through.
He rushed forward, immediately grabbing one of his wrists and fiddling with the handcuffs. Cecil lifted his head up then, looking at Deacon with a pitiful expression.
“Deaks…?” He muttered, wincing at the pain on his wrist.
“Yeah, yeah it’s me, Cecil. We’re getting you out of here, okay?” Deacon reassured, smiling to try and hide his anxiety.
“General, are you alright?” Preston asked, voice soft and concerned.
“No, no just get me off this damned ship.” Cecil said a bit louder.
“I’ve got the keys for the cuffs; Deacon, here.” Haylen said, handing the keys to him.
He was quick to unlock the restraints, catching Cecil when he limply fell from the power armor station. Piper watched from the doorway, hand on her gun in case anyone had followed them in. Cecil looked up at Deacon as the Railroad agent cradled him close.
“Are you okay?” Deacon asked, brushing his thumb over a bruise on Cecil’s cheekbone.
“Just peachy. Now get me out of here. And get me a jacket or something.”
“Already on it, Cec.” Piper said, tossing the green hunting jacket the vault dweller loved over to Deacon. Cecil smiled and thanked her while weakly slipping it on.
“Okay, let’s burn this thing to the ground. Haylen, come with us.” Cecil said, standing with Deacon’s help.
“Are you sure? I mean, I still believe in what the Brotherhood stands for…”
“No you don’t. You wouldn’t have wanted Danse alive if you did.”
“I-I guess…” She muttered before nodding. “Alright. Let’s get out of here.”
Haylen nodded before leading the group out of the room, not noticing Deacon picking Cecil up bridal style. The vault dweller blushed, looking at Deacon in bewilderment.
“Boss, you can’t walk for shit with that leg. Let me help you out here.” He reasoned.
Cecil sighed and decided to go with it, sneakily grabbing one of Deacon’s pistols from the holster on his leg and resting it on his stomach, just out of sight. Deacon noticed, but made no comment as their small team moved out. They had expected other soldiers to notice them by now.
They were NOT expecting Elder Maxson to be the one greeting them on the other side of that door. Along with the aforementioned soldiers.
“I am disappointed, Paladin.” Maxson spat. “Sparing that machine was bad enough, and now the Railroad has captured your mind. I expected better from you.”
“Ah yes, curse my sudden but inevitable betrayal and all.” Cecil quipped. “Hope you know I was with them from the beginning.”
“I’d had a suspicion. Still, I was hoping you’d change your mind and stay with us.”
Cecil sighed. “You talk too much.” He said before quickly pointing Deacon’s pistol at him and shooting him in the chest.
That was when the chaos started. The team took advantage of the Brotherhood’s stupor to dart back to where Tinker Tom had parked their vertibird. The rest of Cecil’s companions leapt off the vehicle and darted inside the Prydwen, taking out what soldiers they could and clearing a path for their exit. It did not take long for the soldiers to fight back, and soon there was bullet hell surrounding them.
Deacon was fast on his feet, darting past the incoming bullets and making his way towards the vertibird. Despite the strain that came with carrying Cecil, he managed to get out of the hull of the Prydwen without collapsing. His arms were beginning to give in, though, so as soon as they were outside, he set Cecil down on his feet and wrapped one of his arms around his shoulders. Preston was quick to take up his other side, helping Cecil keep up with their pace. Haylen darted in front of them, directing them to the vertibird and trying to keep out of the crossfire.
Cecil could hear Cait’s battle cries above the noise, and soon the figher was in his sights, firing her shotgun at the Brotherhood soldiers that followed her out. Haylen hopped on the vertibird and grabbed Cecil from Deacon’s arms, resting him in one of the pilot seats. He hopped on next, helping the rest of Cecil’s companions on one by one. Cait was the last on board, and as soon as the fighter hopped onto the edge of the vertibird, it took off.
“You get those bombs on?” Cecil yelled over the propellers.
“Got ‘em on while you were being rescued!” Cait called back, holding onto the railing for dear life.
“Good.”
He flipped open the top of the detonator, fiddling with the cap as they flew away. Waiting til they were just out of the blast range, he pressed down on the red button with his delicate finger.
As the Prydwen went up in flames, he could only bitterly smile. While in the long run, this was for the best, there were still good people on that ship. They may have had been blinded to the Brotherhood’s bigoted views, but there were honest, good people on board. And now their blood was on his hands. At least Danse was safe… Haylen, too.
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Cecil had passed out on the vertibird, finally giving in to his injuries with the knowledge that he would be safe in his friends’ care. The vertibird had parked near Sanctuary, startling the hell out of the poor settlers before they realized who was piloting it. He had been brought to his house, carried by Deacon once again, and he and Curie had worked tirelessly to bring the Minutemen General back to health.
While the injuries had been ugly, they weren’t as bad as Deacon had originally thought. The worst of them was a broken rib and the bullet he took in the knee. Curie had thought that he might have a slight limp. She had immediately removed the bullet and injected him with a stimpack, which healed most of the injury, and yet she still suspected that he might have trouble walking. They had only to wait and see when he awoke.
It had been two whole days, and Deacon hadn’t left his side once. Desdemona and the rest of the Railroad had gone back to HQ, telling him to alert them the moment Charmer was up on his feet. Deacon hadn’t slept in that time period, constantly hovering over Cecil and checking him for any signs of stirring. Curie had come in every few hours after first stabilizing Cecil, checking on his state as well as Deacon’s.
His mind had been completely nerve wracked. Cecil had been up on that airship for fuck knows how long, all on his own, being tortured for Railroad information. Deacon blamed himself. If he had just gone up instead, disguised himself and lied his way into the Brotherhood’s ranks, then he would be the one in this bed and not Cecil. The vault dweller had gone through enough already, what with losing his best friend and his son all within the span of a few hours, and waking up to find that the world he had known was gone.
Deacon bitterly recalled Cecil reciting story after story about Lauren, his friend who had been killed. He could have gone on for hours about her and their various adventures, and he almost did once. He always spoke so highly of her. It vaguely reminded Deacon about the way he used to talk about Barbara. And how he bragged about Cecil to Desdemona.
As he sat back in his seat next to Cecil’s bed, Deacon sighed, glancing down at Cecil’s sleeping form. His favorite green jacket, one that Deacon himself had given him, was draped on the chair in the corner of the room. His eyes were closed and his mouth was ever so slightly agape. He looked so peaceful, especially when compared to the resting bitch face he had become known for. Fresh bandages were wrapped around his abdomen and his left leg, ones Deacon had helped Curie secure earlier that day.
Hesitating, Deacon leaned forward and gently grasped Cecil’s hand.
“I’m so damned sorry, Boss…” He murmured, resting his elbow on his knee. “All of this was my fault. I shouldn’t have let you go up there by yourself. It’s just- damnit, Cec, I’m terrified right now. You’d better wake up, ya hear? I took a chance with you, I let you in. I-I haven’t done that in fuck knows how many years. Not since Barbara. Please, don’t leave me behind here. I haven’t even gotten the chance to tell you how I feel.” His voice cracked, and he gently squeezed his friend’s hand.
He bitterly chuckled. “Look at what you’re doing to me. Just, please, be okay. Please, just-just wake up and make some stupid joke, laugh at me for bein’ weak, anything. Just please…”
Cecil’s finger twitched ever so slightly, and soon, Deacon felt his smaller hand grasp at his own. The vault dweller’s eyes fluttered open, and Deacon jumped.
“That was some speech there, Deaks.” He murmured, voice hoarse.
“Cecil! God, how much of that did you hear?” Deacon chuckled, trying to ignore the small flush on his face as he pulled his hand back.
“Enough to get the point across. Help me sit up.”
Deacon’s arm shot out, lifting Cecil up slowly with a hand on the center of his back. The warmth felt good to the cold Cecil, and he subconsciously leaned into Deacon’s touch. However, he was quick to retract his hand again once Cecil fully sat up.
“How long’ve you been here?” Cecil asked, moving back to prop himself against the pillow and the wall behind him.
“Since the big escape. You should’ve seen it, Boss. It was glorious, just like one of those firework shows you told us about. And good ol’ Deacon here carried you like a hero from the vertibird while your friends cheered for me!” Deacon said overdramatically.
Cecil laughed. “C’mon, Deaks. How long were you here before I woke up?”
“Haven’t left your side since we got here.” He admitted.
“Kinda figured. Now, uh, care to explain what that schpiel was?” Cecil asked, mildly amused by it all.
“What do you mean?” Deacon asked, deflecting the question.
“You said you didn’t get to tell me how you feel. Well, we’ve got a chance now. No one’s here, we’re past a near death experience. Now seems about time for a dramatic emotion heavy moment.” He chuckled. “At least, it would be if this were some trashy romance novel.”
Deacon forced a laugh. “Hah, no kidding, Boss.”
The two fell silent after that. Behind his shades, Deacon’s gaze moved to look at anything that wasn’t Cecil. Deciding the awkward silence was too much, he spoke up again.
“Shall I compare thee to a midsummer’s day? Or maybe a deathclaw?” He said in a silly accent.
There was another brief moment of silence before Cecil burst into laughter. Deacon couldn’t help but laugh along; his laugh was just too contagious. Eventually, Cecil’s laughter died down and he groaned, lightly hitting Deacon on the shoulder.
“Damn, don’t make me laugh. Ribs aren’t fully healed yet.” He smiled, resting his pinky on Deacon’s. “But in all seriousness, Deacon, what in the world were you talking about?”
He hesitated. “You don’t wanna hear all that gush, Cec-”
“Yes I do, Deacon. If it’s important to you, it’s important to me.”
At Cecil’s insistence, everything spilled over. He couldn’t keep this in anymore.
“Just, god. After all the good you’ve done, all the lives you’ve saved, all you’ve done for me, my sorry ass has to repay you by putting you in danger. I care about you, more than I should. More than is safe. Seeing you all strung up on the Prydwen, beat to hell and treated like nothing more than hanging meat, it just- it broke me, Cec.” His voice cracked again, and he shut his eyes tight to prevent any tears from spilling.
Gently, Cecil reached forward to cup Deacon’s cheek, yet he shied away from it. Cecil’s brows knit together in concern, and he grabbed onto his hand.
“Deacon…” He whispered, not getting any visible response.
“You just- you mean the world to me, you know that? You really do. You’re a goddamn miracle. After all the shit I’ve seen, you come sweeping in like an angel and start setting things right. I don’t know if there’s even a way to repay you for all this.” He chuckled dryly.
“Deacon.” Cecil repeated louder, causing the Railroad agent to look up at him. He leaned forward and gently pulled the shades off of his face, meeting eyes with the poor man.
Cecil had never seen such raw emotion in someone’s eyes before. His soft blue eyes were swirling with a pure sense of worry, love, and pain. It made perfect sense to him now why he always wore those shades. His eyes would show the truth hiding behind his constant lies. Cecil softly smiled and cupped Deacon’s cheek.
“I think I get the point now.” He whispered, glancing down at Deacon’s lips for a brief second before locking eyes with him again.
Deacon gulped, hesitant and anxious as hell. Should he go for it? That glance was no accident; Cecil was thinking it, too. But it was still risky. He couldn’t let what happened to Barbara happen again, especially not with Cecil. And yet, here he was, hovering over his lips and waiting for permission. Cecil always was a polite one. And Deacon wanted to, oh how he wanted to…
In a last minute thought of ‘Oh fuck it’, Deacon closed the gap between them and shut his eyes. Cecil was quick to do the same, moving his hand down to Deacon’s neck to pull him closer. He shivered, still cold from the lack of a proper top, which Deacon noticed. He pulled him closer and wrapped his arms around him delicately, trying not to worsen any remaining wounds. The kiss was slow and chaste, neither one of them wanting to move this too quickly and both savoring the moment.
They eventually were forced to part, with both panting and keeping their eyes shut. Cecil chuckled.
“I’m almost afraid this is a dream and that I’ll wake up any minute.”
“Then this is the best dream I’ve had in years.” Deacon breathed.
Eventually, they opened their eyes and simply stared at each other, arms still securely wrapped around each other.
“Monsieur Deacon? Are you still ‘ere-?” Curie said, entering the room and causing both him and Cecil to jump. “Oh! Monsieur Cecil! You are awake! I shall alert zhe ozhers immediately!” She grinned and left, closing the door behind her.
“Holy shit, Curie… Give a guy some warning.” Deacon mumbled, checking if Cecil was alright.
“Say, can I have my jacket now?” Cecil asked, laying back on the bed while Deacon smirked.
“Anything for you, boss.”