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The applicant's got a face like some kind of rat bastard; a kind descriptor for his facial hair would be patchy. Guy's even twitchy like a rat. Fahrenheit's played with his type before, they were the ones who pull out a gun when they lose a bet.
"Pleasure to meet you- er, what'd you say your name was?" Hancock's kicked back on the couch, his feet resting on the table that separates him from Rat Bastard.
"MacCready, sir." Rat Bastard straightens his back until he's sitting upright to an uncomfortable degree.
"MacCready," Hancock echoes, "So, what draws you to the fine town of Goodneighbor? Why are you fucked up enough to want to work for me?"
Fahrenheit's focus is on MacCready, but out of the corner of her vision, she can see (who?)Hancock gesturing as he talks. She leans down, adjusting the minigun leaning against her. No real reason, other than to make sure the new guy doesn't get too squirrelly.
"Oh well, it's just such a.... nice place. And I've been shooting since I was a kid. The- uh, my older sister gave me a rifle when I was ten, before she moved out. Said I was the only one responsible enough to use it. Got pretty good at taking pot shots." He stumbles over his words like the average Third Rail enjoyer. He's also a liar.
“Family doesn’t matter.” She says, then winces.
"Aw geez Fahr. What'd the bastard do this time?" John's hair was long and greasy, flopping in a singular movement as he pushed himself off The Wall he was sitting on. Back then, he was taller than her, enough that he felt the need to crouch to look her in the eyes.
She shrugged, "Dad asked me where I got the caps from. He says I need to stop taking handouts. Dunno why he cares; not like he was gonna buy food."
"Eurgh. You know you can lie. Honestly, that's what parents are good for. Practicing lying." His teeth grit together as he speaks in a relaxed voice.
"Pastor Clements says that we're not suppose to lie to our parents." Fahrenheit rocked on her feet, grinning as she spied what's in his hands.
John handed her the noodle cup, and winked as he pulled a Nuka Cherry from his backpack.
"Pastor Clemens," He proclaimed quietly, "Is also a fucking liar. You're actually allowed to lie whenever you want, as long as you're good at it. And you don't get caught."
"You sound like Maggie." She said, mouth full of noodles.
"Good. She's taught me it. Oh, speaking of her, she sent me a letter! Wanna read it? Her and Will got into a real gunfight!"
Fahrenheit swallowed the food in her mouth and snatched the paper. Her hands trembled as she read it.
“Wow, no wonder why they got kicked out.” She said, handing it back to him.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” John asked with a frown.
"Idiots aren’t allowed." She says with a snort.
If MacCready wasn't such a shit liar, he'd be in good company. He's pathetically bad at it, an unforgivable crime.
"Christ, Fahr. Stop making me out to be a hypocrite. Mac- I hope it's okay to call you that- we do hire idiots. I have strong anti-discrimination policies." Hancock laughs.
"My bad. We only allow one idiot at a time. When the chief clown kicks it, you'll be the first one I call." She says, dead serious.
MacCready's polite smile stays unchanged, but the rest of his expression changes into something akin to experiencing extreme pain. Hancock's elbow lands a solid hit in Fahrenheit's side and she rolls her eyes.
"Listen, MacCready," Hancock starts, doing his best impression of a sucker, "You've got a lot of... spunk to come here and ask for a job. But we've got a deal with the Triggermen. They stand around, look scary, and no one tries to pull any shit. You seem like a great kid, but do I need to hire a sniper? You'd have better luck at Diamond City."
"Yeah. Uh. Yeah. Already tried that. They uh, don't like it if you've had a contract for the Gunners." He laughs, and that's when it clicks.
"We're not sheltering some idiot who refused to pay them their dues." Fahrenheit says, cutting through the bullshit like a hot knife to ice.
MacCready jolts at that, "Oh no! I had a contract to work for them. Three years as a sniper. It expired and I, uh, wanted to pursue other stuff. They're not after me; unless you're counting them asking if I want to renew my contract?"
Dual sighs of relief expel; the tension fizzles away.
"Good to know. Why didn't you want to keep your contract? It's good pay." Hancock asks and Fahrenheit thinks about how the recruits she’s known and how they don't leave.
"My ex wife works for them. And I want to be a good dad to my son. Fucking crazy concept." MacCready twitches again.
A moment of silence falls as Hancock and Fahrenheit trade looks. He waves his hand; she narrows her eyes and then gives a single nod. He nods back, turning to look at MacCready once again.
"How old is your son?" Hancock asks, no longer doing his sucker impression (because he's become the sucker).
"Uh, almost two?" MacCready answers it like he's asking a question of his own.
"Where did you leave him?" Fahrenheit takes her turn to ask.
He laughs nervously, "He’s uh, really improved at napping. He goes down for a couple of hours now. Hasn’t figured out how doorknobs work yet, so he's perfectly safe."
"You left him alone?" She stares.
"It's not like that- I lock the door, b-but the woman at the hotel seems really nice. I offered to pay her extra caps if she'd hang out with him if he woke up early. I know it sounds bad. It's- it’s not that bad though. Once we get settled down, I'm gonna get him a Giddyup." He only stops blabbering when Hancock raises his hand.
"I need to talk to my associate about this," Fahrenheit takes her turn elbowing him back. (Hancock deserves worse, and it's the least she can do.) "Leave the room for like five minutes, close the door behind you, and wait downstairs. By the way, how old are you?"
MacCready blinks, "I'm twenty one? Should I have led with that?"
"No it's fine," Fahrenheit interrupts whatever bullshit Hancock was gearing up for, "We'll call you back up when we're ready."
The moment MacCready leaves the room, Hancock gets up and starts pacing, moving his arms around as he prepares his thoughts. Fahrenheit already has her head in her hands, preparing for what's to come.
"What kind of guy has an ex-wife by the age of twenty one? She's not even dead! He's so fucked up! We can't just not do something." He pleads. It's the same tone he uses whenever Bobbi comes back with her tail between her legs, promising (and lying) that she'll stop being a piece of shit.
"John. You cannot be serious."
Fahrenheit that said after she slammed the front door shut.
John looked up from the backpack he's filling. His stubble, patchy and only grown in to prove a point, reflected gold under the dim lights.
"I dunno what you're talking about." He lied. Fahrenheit only knew it was a lie because he said it too flippantly. If he was telling the truth, he would have been worried.
"Wiseman told me what you're fucking doing! You're going to get yourself killed! You don't need to do that!" Her fists trembled as she spoke, choosing to stare at the ground than look him in the eyes.
He watched her speak and nodded.
"I wanted to tell you myself. I'm sorry you heard it from him first. I have to do this," John said slowly.
"No you don't! They've been alive for this long, they don't need your help!" She kept staring at the ground.
He sighed, "I know a lot of people are saying that, my brother included. They're all alive because they've been living here. Daisy's got enough money to buy a brahmin and start doing caravan stuff. The others don't have that money. If I don't help them, no one's going to."
"You're just gonna leave me?" Fahrenheit whispered.
John walked forward, and pulled her into a hug. "Only for a few weeks. Maybe a couple months. You wanna know what?"
Her arms stayed at her side, quietly as she allowed him to talk.
"I know that Home Plate's not really my place."
That's what he always claimed at least. It could never belong to him as long as his parents paid for it.
"But guess what? I was going over some paperwork, and apparently they put my name on the title. It really is my place! I'm going to go over to the office, and change the deed so the place belongs to you until I get back. You can stay here so you don't have to stay with your dad and when I come back; you just change the deed back over to me."
If he was planning to come back then he wouldn't try to take care of her. She stayed quiet, thinking of the implications, until he tapped on her back.
"Are you sure?" Fahrenheit asked, hoping the tears stayed out of her voice.
"Of course I'm sure. Here's my thoughts- or , if he really sucks to be around then I'll put him on Deacon Duty. Any time the Railroad wants to ask us something, they go through him. No one tells him about the Railroad either. We just have him decode stuff and never explain why." Hancock says, still pacing.
"That's a fucking terrible idea. We might as well set him up on Daisy's roof, and tell him to shoot every remaining Minuteman that tries to come through." She rolls her eyes.
He stops mid pace, back to her. He swivels on his heels as he points a dangerous pair of finger guns at her.
"See? You're coming around to it."
In a distant part of her mind, she wonders how she turned out alright, with only him around.
"You're wrong. I hate MacCready's rat face and I hate how stupid he is. If we hire him, then every idiot with a gun would start asking us for a job, and our deal with the Triggerman is so we don't have to deal with every idiot with a gun. I am not coming around to this idea." She says harshly, but without bite.
"But?" Hancock smiles and Fahrenheit hates it.
"But. He can stay for a week. We'll call it a test run and he'll be paid fairly. We'll say he's not what we're looking for, and ask him to take a letter to Kessler. Bunker Hill needs a new sniper and she takes care of her own."
It's infuriating how smug of an expression someone can have when there's no eyebrows.
"Thank you Fahr," he says in a singsong voice, "You're my favorite person."
As far as Fahrenheit gives a shit, the Third Rail exists to trigger migraines. Why else would there be so many drifters packed in an underground tunnel with poor ventilation? The various stenches of cigarettes, shitty beer, vomit, and human fluids morph together to create a hellish experience. It's enough to almost make her pity MacCready.
The rat bastard's been clinging to Hancock's side all week and just about keels over the moment he gets the first whiff, at the top of the stairs. His coughing bounces off the tiles, echoing downwards.
"You alright?" Hancock says, patting his back.
MacCready's entire body shakes as he coughs one last time, then stands. When he wipes his eyes, his tears smudge the grime on his face in new and interesting ways.
They go to their usual spots. It’s actually Fahrenheit and Hancock’s usual spot, two stools on the bar, saved just for them. All Fahrenheit has to do is to tap someone’s shoulder, jerk her head in the direction of the sitting area, and say “Get out.”
The schmuck practically flies out of the stool. It’s her spot now.
“Whitechapel, three beers. Put it on my tab.” Hancock says as he sits down. Fahrenheit covers her mouth so no one sees her snickering.
She can feel Hancock’s eyes on her, then his elbow in her side.
“Stop being an asshole.” He grumps.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She says, hand still covering her mouth.
He rolls his eyes and spins around on his stool, “Mac, sit down! Have a good time!”
MacCready drags his feet as he sits down. Whatever he says, she can’t hear over the general level of noise but she can hear Hancock telling him to be more fun. Fahrenheit takes her bottle, cap already off, and watches the stage.
Magnolia sings like a dream. It’s easy to unwind and have a drink, ignoring anything else that gets in the way. The red dress shimmers due to the glass sewn on, reflecting the light like nothing else Fahrenheit’s ever seen. There’s a moment when she knows Magnolia’s winked at her specifically, she raises her glass back as a salute.
The song finishes and Magnolia tells the audience that she’s taking a short break. She walks off the stage, headed for the three of them, customers parting like the sea.
“Well, well well. Looks like my favorite regulars have decided to visit. This must be the new daddy that you’ve brought in.” Her eyes fill with mirth and MacCready starts stammering.
“You sound great. No need to waste it on him.” Fahrenheit says smugly. She preens as Magnolia puts a hand on her shoulder and laughs.
“Lovely as ever Fahrenheit. I’ve missed seeing you around.”
Hancock postulates like a radstag getting ignored, “Great to see you too. I hope I’d be more than just a regular to you, for as long as we’ve known each other.”
“Oh I suppose that's true,” she says coily, “You’re also my boss.”
Fahrenheit laughs until tears cloud her vision. Even Whitechapel Charlie has a chuckle when Hancock doesn’t respond and sighs instead.
“That’s fair. Walked right into that one. Egg on my face. Do you need something or is everyone going to take turns to mock me?” He says lightly. Anyone else says something like that and it would be a cause for concern; but Fahrenheit knows that the smile he wears.
“Actually I do. One of my gentlemen friends is in town. He stopped by earlier, and said to tell you that he wants a meeting.” Magnolia’s smile stays exactly the same, but her eyes lose the shine in her eyes.
“You’re too good for all of those idiots. Can’t you ask one of your lady friends to drop by? I like them better.” Fahrenheit plays along. She finishes her beer, to hide her distaste for the idea.
Hancock sighs again but this time there’s a note of true exhaustion. It’s from experience that Fahrenheit knows the kind of work that those gentlemanly friends bring are never truly done.
“Did he tell you what he wants?” Hancock’s lips thin when Magnolia shakes her head, “Don’t worry about it. If you see him, tell him I want to meet with him in the morning. If you don’t, then I’ll deal with it whenever he shows up.”
There’s a healthy pause after that. It’s always the same gentleman friend, and Fahrenheit knows that the three of them are hoping that the asshole is eavesdropping. In that moment, she remembers that MacCready is also with them because she can hear him whisper, “Aw shit,” after the entire bar falls silent.
Fahrenheit doesn't need to turn around to know bad news has shown up. Whitechapel Charlie warns them by saying, "Magnolia, since you're between sets, why don't you powder your nose? You could use it."
"Of course. I'll be back in ten, or whenever things get boring." Magnolia chuckles and then kisses Hancock's cheek, "Don't get too rowdy without me."
"I'll do my best." He promises with a smirk.
The moment Magnolia's safe inside her changing room, Fahrenheit and Hancock spin around on their bar stool. Three Gunners stand at the bottom of the stairs, a woman who's flanked by two men. Hancock asks, "Mac, these friends of yours?"
Fahrenheit doesn't dare take her eyes off them, but the sound MacCready makes is so viscerally disappointing that she doesn't need any more.
"They're not- it's complicated. I don't like them. Let me see what she wants." He stammers and stands up.
"Should have known you'd be crawling into the first hole you'd find." Is what Lucy says, instead of exchanging pleasantries like her companions.
The bar gets even quieter, somehow. This is a free show that's better than Magnolia's sweet tunes. It's the promise of drama.
"Heh ha, what can I say? Old habits die hard." His laugh is so pathetic that it makes Fahrenheit wince. "How's everyone doing?"
"Better than you." One of them (Flintlock? Fahrenheit can't remember what MacCready called him) says. He and the other guy both snicker, until Lucy lifts her hand up. Under the flickering light, Fahrenheit can see that her coveralls have a patch with a red cross.
Fahrenheit groans as Hancock curses. Every fucking doctor has a god complex and every Gunner has an ego the size of a god’s. The concept of someone having both causes a bone deep exhaustion.
"Looks like we're doing better than you are. RJ, did you finally wise up and cut the brat loose? I told you so." It's a bold fucking tone for a brunette bitch to have. She's even got a smug little smirk.
MacCready's back is still turned from them, and Fahrenheit is glad for it. Only people who say shit like that are ones who got history. Long, personal ones. Even seeing the way MacCready tenses up, taking a step back feels like seeing something too intimate. It's not the kind of pity she wants to feel for him.
She can hear Hancock's coat rustling, the telltale sign of him standing, and it's Fahrenheit's turn to smirk. She stands up, stalking over, and confident in the fact she's been given permission to fuck someone's day up. Places herself between MacCready and the others.
Fahrenheit rolls her shoulder, lifts her arm, and aims for the nose.
She'd forgotten that the world didn't shrink to fit her, but she grew to fit it. And that in growing up, she was strong. The way John hunched over, his nose only attached to his face by a couple of strands of cartilage (dangling in the air in a way that made her feel nauseous) would serve as a good reminder.
"What the fuck ?" He glared at her. His voice was different from the last time she heard it, just like his face.
Fahrenheit had a speech prepared, where she'd tell him how Cricket told her that he bought enough bullets for a militia, and that it didn't take half a brain to know he was planning something. Then Fahrenheit was going to tell him that if Cricket told her, she was probably telling everyone else. She'd sold Home Plate so he couldn't tell her to leave and he'd be forced to accept her help for whatever he's scheming. In the moment, all Fahrenheit could focus on was how different he was. He left her and changed.
"I'll punch your dick off next," was what her mouth translated all of that into.
John stared at her and she stared back. It felt as long as eternity, only ending when he rasped, "Fahrenheit?"
Her stomach sank, denser than a stone. She prepared for every eventuality but the one where he didn't recognize her. It wasn't something she considered.
"Cricket's a snitch. I know you're planning something. I wanna help." She unclipped a bag from her belt, and set it on the counter. The bag fell open, caps spilling out.
Nose in hand, he stared at the bag, then at her, Then at the bag again.
"Absolutely not. Get out of my fucking bar."
There are words exchanged until Fahrenheit says that he's acting like his brother. Then they're exchanging shouts. When John's in the process of inquiring about her intelligence, he stopped partway at the sound of a glass shattering.
They turn their heads in tandem, and Fahrenheit sees one of the most beautiful women she'll ever see. Black hair that glitters with gray, crow's feet around her eyes, thin lips pressed into a smile, and a single raised eyebrow. Glass shards and a puddle, the remains of a bottle, pool around her.
"Sweetheart, I know Johnny's good at saying the right words to make a gal mad, but he's not worth it. Even in Goodneighbor, you can do better." The woman's voice was smooth, and she laughed like she was telling a joke.
"Please. John wishes he was fucking me." Fahrenheit spat out.
The woman chuckled as John's eye twitched. "Magnolia, this is Fahrenheit. She's just heading out."
"The little sister? Absolutely not. She's got to get drinks with the gals. Irma, Amari, Daisy, and we'll go to Rexford so Claire can join. Hell, I'll even make it a proper party and invite Bobbi." The way Magnolia said 'little sister' made Fahrenheit smile. Really, everything about her made Fahrenheit smile. Magnolia's the kind of woman Fahrenheit wanted to be, ever since she was a boy.
John stammered in a way that Fahrenheit had never seen before. Unfortunately he did stop and started rubbing his temples with his free hand.
"Fine. Sounds great. Can you get me the scissors? She punched my nose off." He glared at Fahrenheit without hostility, and she shrugged.
"Course I will. You kids play nice." She turned around, walking into a back room. The door closed behind her as she left them alone.
They stared at each other until Fahrenheit gave in.
"Sorry about the nose." She offered. It was John's turn to shrug.
"It's fine. The doc, Amari, said it was rotting. She's been trying to get me to cut it off."
"Cool." Fahrenheit said and they fell into silence again.
John blew air between his lips.
"It's pretty nice here." He said in a tone that made her nostalgic for five years ago.
"Yeah?" She said in the same tone.
It took John a moment to find the words he wanted. When he spoke, it was slow and uncertain.
"I know Goodneighbor doesn't have the greatest reputation, but we're like a family. And family takes care of each other." Hancock's voice booms as he saunters over, leaning on Fahrenheit's shoulder.
The Gunner men are slack-jawed. Lucy stands up and wipes the blood streaming out of her nose. There's a slight bent that wasn't there before, a slight bent that makes Fahrenheit grin. MacCready stares at the two of them with an expression reminiscent of a person seeing a grenade going off for the first time. Horror, giddiness, shame for feeling giddy, and hoping it was a quick death despite all odds.
Fahrenheit's enough of a bitch that she gives him a quick wink.
"You think he gives a shit about taking care of people? Let me guess, he gave you some sob story about being a father who just wants to do what's right, and his bitch of an ex wife left him for it." Lucy has a quiet rage, the kind that makes her tremble and tear up. Gunner's tend to have a loud rage, the kind that gets guns out.
Out of the corner of her eyes, Fahrenheit can see MacCready grimace. Poor bastard.
"He's a coward and a liar," Lucy spits out each insult like it burns, "He'll pack up and leave the second he gets cold feet. Why don't you ask him about Little-"
"A one hundred percent genuine lover’s spat. Real cute. I'd rate it a six outta ten. Fahr, what do you think?" Hancock interrupts. Fahrenheit can see Ham walking down the stairs, flanked by a few Triggermen.
"Six out of ten sounds about right. Not very original. It sounds like a Silver Shroud episode." It's a dick move to agree, but people tend to shut up when their lives get compared to prewar radio shows.
MacCready and Lucy have the same expression, even if they wear it differently. They're both shellshocked into shutting up long enough for Ham to get down and start doing his fucking job. The Gunner men start to make a half-hearted attempt to argue about being kicked out, but drop it when Lucy tells them to shut up. Hancock follows the group up the stairs.
In the same way that experience means Fahrenheit knows the sky is blue; she knows that he'll be lecturing the three of them about how they are banned from Goodneighbor and how they need to warn the rest of their Gunner friends about being good, or else he'll have to kick them out too.
Magnolia walks back on stage, and the bar springs back to life. Patrons are joking, laughing, yelling, and most importantly, drinking.
"Damn," MacCready's still looking at the stairs, even after they're out of sight, "Sorry about that."
Fahrenheit slaps his shoulder. "Don't be. We're not Bunker Hill."
Hand firmly on his shoulder, she leads MacCready to the VIP area. Without prompting, he slumps at a table and rubs his temples in a way that covers his face. She sits diagonally from him, studying the old, cracked tiled walls. After a few minutes, Hancock comes back, carrying in drinks.
"Thanks for moving back here. You might have had a good time if you stayed in the main area." He jokes as he sets the bottles on the table.
Without a word, MacCready opens a bottle and downs half of it in a single gulp. Hancock sits on the chair next to him, patting his back. The table stays quiet, the only noise being two quiet hisses as Fahrenheit opens the remaining bottles. Hancock takes one.
"Maybe I didn't open that for you," Fahrenheit says.
"Eh, fuck off. I'm not buying you two beers." He leans back and takes a drink.
She rolls her eyes. The following silence is a comfort for her, her and Hancock's other best friend. The two of them savor the silence and their beers, while MacCready shakes in his chair. Fahrenheit can't see him shake, but she can hear a chair leg bump repeatedly against the floor. She sighs.
"So," Fahrenheit sets her beer on the table, "are we going to talk about it?"
"What is this? Some kind of intervention? Or is it the ghoul thing? Didn't think we needed to talk about the ghoul thing. Seemed like it didn't need to be explained." John (thinking of him as Hancock still felt strange) looked up at her. An empty box of Mentats was on the floor.
"I don't give a shit about the drug problem," Fahrenheit lied, "I care about this."
He leaned back as an orange piece of plastic was shoved in his face.
"That's a holotape."
"Have you listened to it?!" Her face scrunched up as she shouted.
He gestured and made a wordless noise of confusion. She stomped to the radio, furiously putting it in.
"Wake up Commonwealth," a woman's voice started to play, "Synths are not your enemy. They are victims in this war, as well. True, they were created by the Institute. But they were created as slaves. Thinking, feeling, and dreaming beings utterly oppressed by their tyrannical masters. So join with us in fighting the real enemy: The Institute. Join the Railroad. When you're ready for that next step, don't worry, we'll find you."
Once the tape was over, the radio went silent. Fahrenheit turned the radio off and tossed the holotape in John's lap.
"I fail to see how this is my problem." He picked it up with two fingers, gently setting it on the coffee table.
"Do you know where I found it?!" She snapped.
He shrugged and made the same confused verbalization as before.
"In your bar! Just there for anyone to take!" Her arms swung around, gesturing wildly.
"I have a hands off approach with the Third Rail. I don't have the time to run a bar because some people thought my talents were being 'wasted' and decided to nominate me for mayor." He said sorely.
Boo-fucking-hoo was Fahrenheit's opinion. If she had a cap for every time John put on the pity party hat, she could make him even sadder by buying the Third Rail.
"That's not my point! Do you have a brain? Don't you know what this means? If the Railroad's trying to recruit, then that means synths are going to be here. If synths are here then that means the Institute is going to notice us! And if that happens-"
"Fahr. That's a lot of assumptions you're making. Why would you think there's no synths here to begin with? Or that the Institute isn't already watching?" His voice had a tone she rarely heard, something serious and hardened. It made her guts twist in a fear she hadn't experienced since her growth spurt.
She was tall and strong now but this wasn't a fear she could intimidate into submission. John must have noticed, for his next words were soft.
"It's not something I'm worried about. But we did sort of lead a coup against the asshole in charge. People are... reaching out. Seeing what I'm about. Some of the Minutemen are talking to me about establishing direct trade routes. My- Diamond City's mayor has decided that I'm the scum of the Earth. Kessler wants to know if Bunker Hill could get the same results. And yeah. This also means there's been," he waved at the holotape, "other people that have asked permission to put stuff out. But they were here before I was, already doing it. It's just. More explicit. Easier to find."
Fahrenheit plopped down onto the couch. She leaned on John and he wrapped an arm around her.
"I don't want this to end like University Point," she said.
"It won't. We're not a bunch of farmers. We're assholes who know how to use guns. Also KL-E-0’s here and she's got a Fat Man. I don't like that; but if anything happens, everything’s gonna die, courses included." He laughed.
"Coursers?" She echoed, concerns about nukes gone.
"Eh," Hancock waves a hand, "we can talk about that later.”
MacCready takes another drink and leans his head back. His fingers tap the table incessantly. He opens his mouth, closes his mouth, and then runs a hand through his hair. The other two enjoy their beers as they wait.
"It's just- It's a fu- whole mess. Have either of you been to the Capital Wasteland?" He starts with, shoulders sagging when they shake their heads. "It sucks. Probably worse than you've heard it. Uh, Lucy and I grew up in a cave. It was just a bunch of kids who were left there. All of our parents were either raiders, slaves, or both. Probably both. A bunch of kids in a cave, and that's something to pity. A group of adults and children in a cave is a settlement worth attacking. So it was just us kids. I gave myself a long name because I thought it was scary, and then I'd stand by the entrance. I had a rifle and would shoot anyone who tried to get close. Lucy was the nicest and best at reading, so she was the doctor."
Fahrenheit thinks of decades ago, when she would follow the Black siblings and John McDonough around Diamond City. She tries to subtract everything else that happened in her childhood, no green wall protecting her, and even more nonexistent relationships with parents because none of that would have ever happened. Instead it's just a cave and the only safety would be however much she trusted MacCready. It's too alien to imagine.
“Phew,” Hancock whistles at the information.
"None of us knew if we were gonna grow up but I dunno. It didn't feel like it was bad. More of us grew up than didn't, and it was better than any of the other options we had. We- Lucy and I wanted to be different. We got old enough to leave, wanted it to be better, then made it happen. Now there's an adult who keeps everyone safe, but caps are an issue. They need supplies and a lot of people pay for a medic and sniper. We didn't start with the Gunners, but they paid the best. We sent all the caps back and- I dunno. It was okay. I could live with it." There's a sad smile when he talks, but his fingers tap the table even faster.
"Which one of you is older?" Hancock asks. It's the least helpful question he could ask, and Fahrenheit takes a drink so she doesn't say anything stupid.
"Oh, I am. Three whole months. Used to be when you turn sixteen, your time there would be over and it'd be time to leave. It's different now but," he claps his hands together, "Worst three months of my life. Felt like I was just alone and outside. When it was her birthday, I was waiting for her." MacCready says it and Fahrenheit knows he's still untangling everything those facts entail. John has the same tone when he has to talk about being a ghoul.
"Damn. That sucks ass." She says.
MacCready laughs and laughs, his shoulders shaking as he rests his face in his hand. Hancock pats his shoulder again, nodding in agreement.
"It sucks so bad." He drags out every syllable in that short sentence. "We only got married because the Talon crew would put spouses on the same missions. Then we had sex cause hey, why not? Wasn't like we were gonna fuck anyone else. And then the Gunners came along and. It fucking sucks. It was too good to be true. We didn't ask questions and we never thought about consequences."
Fahrenheit opens her mouth to say something rude, but Hancock's a step ahead of her, "Buddy, you don't need to say that. We already knew."
"Everyone knows," he says with his face still buried in his hands, "People just look at me and know I make bad decisions."
"We don't have to keep talking about this. You can go back and spend some time with the kid, and forget this ever happened." Hancock says, still patting his back.
MacCready makes an incomprehensible sound. "She's right. I am a coward."
"Really? Let's talk about it." Fahrenheit says, ignoring the glare Hancock gives her.
"I don't know. It's boring and sad. After Duncan was born, she wanted to send him to Little Lamplight. It pisses me off. We're supposed to be better. She said as long as we wrote letters and sent money, we'd be the best parents anyone's had. Don't get me wrong, Charon's great, but I didn't have a kid just to leave him in a cave." MacCready is desolate. He's no longer tapping the table and there's a glassy look in his eyes. His shoulders and eye bags sag.
Fahrenheit doesn't know how to respond and she can see uncertainty in Hancock's expression. They've both been blessed with no children. This is entirely unfamiliar territory.
"John and I have known a lot of shitty dads. You sound like an okay dad," She's unsure and says it slowly, "Not leaving him in a cave is the bare minimum."
"I don't know. I barely have enough caps for the two of us to get by, and haven't been able to send money back there in over a year. I feel like a fuck up." MacCready sounds hollow but he starts tapping the table again.
Hancock's years of dealing with sad drunks shine through when he says, "It's been a long day. Why don't we get you home?"
MacCready barely gets the chance to nod before the others stand.
"Rexford, right?" Hancock asks. MacCready shakes his head.
"I need to pick up Duncan first. He's at the uh. Shit- I mean dang. He's at that memory place." He stands up slowly, gesturing with one hand as he talks.
"Memory Den?" Hancock prompts.
"That's the bi-place. Irma's offered to watch him."
"Sounds like we've got a plan. Get the kid, and make sure you get back to Rexford safely." Fahrenheit says. The closest thing she gets to response is MacCready giving a half-hearted nod. She gives Hancock (who's standing behind him) a look, and he just shrugs.
The walk to the Memory Den is only remarkable in how one of the Triggermen waves and begins to make his way over to them, only to stop when Fahrenheit gives him a single look. Whatever bullshit there is, can be dealt with later. The night is both sticky from humidity and chilly, but MacCready pauses before opening the red doors. He takes a deep breath in, whispers, "Showtime,' and throws the door open.
"Where's my little guy?!" He shouts with a grin. His posture's upright, and he walks with a swagger.
There's a high pitched scream, and a tiny person runs to meet him. MacCready bends down, scooping him up and giving him kisses on one swift motion
"Daddy! Daddy!" The tiny person, a toddler, squirms.
"Oh, I missed you so much! Did you have a fun time?" MacCready speaks with a higher pitch and a softer tone. It's disconcerting to watch, when only ten minutes before he was having some kind of cave induced crisis.
The toddler, who must be Duncan, says noises that Fahrenheit could never attempt to understand as words but MacCready. He points at Fahrenheit and Hancock, saying something that she can piece together.
"Ooze 'at?"
MacCready turns, nodding in their general direction, "These are my friends. You wanna say hi? Say ‘Hi, I'm Duncan.’"
"'I! 'M Unk-an!" He waves at them. He's got a ruddy complexion and almost translucently blond hair. The hair is sparse enough that he barely has any eyebrows, and she can see his scalp through the hair.
"Hi, I'm John." Hancock says with a smile.
Fahrenheit stared up at the big kid. He wasn't like most of the big kids she'd seen, this one had fancy clothes without any dirt on them.
"Where's your lunch?" The big kid asks. He's got a sandwich in his hands, with some kind of bread that Fahrenheit has never seen before. It was white, and looked like a Fancy Lad Snack Cake.
"I dunno. Dad said Mister Zwicky'd give it to me," When Fahrenheit said that, the big kid winced, "Are you eating cake for lunch?"
"Christ, just take it." He handed Fahrenheit half of the sandwich, and Fahrenheit took it so gently. The bread was squishy, like a pillow.
Fahrenheit squinted at it then up at him, "What's that?"
"Mirelurk egg salad. It's really good; my butler made it." He said, like Fahrenheit was supposed to know what a butler was. Maybe he was just some kind of weirdo. His hair was VERY shiny, which seemed like something a weirdo would do.
"What's Christ?" Fahrenheit sniffed the sandwich before taking a bite. It tasted sour, soft, and wet. It was like nothing Fahrenheit has ever had before.
The big kid shrugged and lifted his hands into the air, "It's a bad word. I dunno what it means, my mom just says I can't see it."
"My mom left. I dunno why." Fahrenheit said between bites. That was the kind of stuff Dad would talk about at the bar, and big kids were basically grown ups.
The big kid makes a face, like he just ate something really gross. It took him a while before he said, "I'm sorry. Do you want the rest of my lunch?"
Fahrenheit finished the sandwich half, then snatched the other half from his hand. Then Fahrenheit remembered to be polite. "Thank you."
"You're welcome! What's your name?" He asked.
"I'm Fahrenheit." She says after a pause.
Duncan waves again, "'I!"
"Alright buddy, we need to talk to Miss Irma. Then we'll go home. Okay?" MacCready's entirely focused on the boy and misses Hancock shaking his head.
"Don't worry about it. It's been a long day, I'll cover it." He says, walking past MacCready.
MacCready stiffens at that. Fahrenheit watches him pause between opening his mouth and speaking.
"It's alright, I can cover it. Besides, if Magnolia's friend is in town then he's probably bothering Amari. As the mayor, it means that's my responsibility to deal with. Fahr, you'll make sure they get home?" He turns to her and of course she nods.
Hancock walks into the main room and MacCready stands there, gobsmacked. Fahrenheit walks over, slapping MacCready on the shoulder.
"Don't feel bad about it. He's just like that. I knew him for like seven years before he stopped treating me like a kid." She doesn't mention that it was because puberty happened. It's not relevant information.
"Alright. If you say so." He says after Duncan pats his face.
They leave, with MacCready holding his son the entire time. In the darkness of night, Duncan's hair practically glows under the streetlights. Even under the cover of darkness, she can't see any resemblance between them.
"He looks like you," She lies at the steps of Hotel Rexford, "It's the eyes."
"Huh. Irma said the same thing. I don't see it, but majority rules." He tilts his head, looking at Duncan with intent. Duncan stares back with the same expression, furrowed eyebrows and all.
Fahrenheit's the second biggest liar in Goodneighbor, after Irma.
"Guess it's time to call it a night. Your dad's looking pretty sleepy." She tells Duncan.
"Daddy goes to bed too." He says solemnly.
MacCready laughs, "We're working on the whole sleep thing. Everybody goes to bed. Hey uh..."
"What's up?" She says, quietly praying to Atom that its not something sappy.
"You think Hancock would be pissed if I tried to pay him back?" He says and she remembers why religion doesn't work.
Fahrenheit pretends to consider Hancock's opinion. She blows air out and shrugs. "Hancock's a freak. It's not worth your time to bother trying to pay him back. Honestly? If I were you, I wouldn't talk about it. He's not gonna remember it once the morning comes around, and it's gonna be super awkward if you bring it up. It's all the drugs he does."
"Aw shoot, really?" He whistles, "Thanks for the heads up. I'll keep that in mind."
This confirms it, she suspected for a while that MacCready’s a fucking sucker.. Sucks to suck, she supposes.
"Night Mac. Night Duncan." She half waves, half salutes with two fingers.
"Duncan, can you say, 'Night-night Fahrenheit'?" He says softly, looking at Duncan.
Duncan yawns, then waves and says, "Ight-ight Air-in-ite."
"Good job," he gives Duncan a kiss on the forehead, "Night Fahrenheit. Uh, tell Hancock I said thanks. If he remembers."
Fahrenheit nods, MacCready nodding back. Once the doors to Rexford close, finally away from them, her shoulders sag. She lets out a long list of curses crass enough to make the Triggerman nearby ask if she's alright. She ignores him in favor of pulling out a cigarette and lighter. Once the nicotine hits, the knot in her chest unravels. She walks the ten feet over to wait for Hancock, outside the Memory Den.
When he finally comes out, she's stomping the butt out with her boot.
"Come on Fahr. No one gives a shit." He says with a cocky grin.
"Shut the fuck up. You'd get it if you had integrity," she rolls her eyes, "Was the asshole there?"
He side eyes her, "No. Whatever he wants, we'll hear about it in the morning. It wouldn't hurt for you to learn his name. He didn't even pick a hard one this time."
"If I learn it, he's gonna change it. I'm not dealing with it. Also..." She trails off, checking the ground to make sure the cigarette butt is completely out.
"Spit it out. I'm old, my bones hurt."
"I'm not going soft and if you say that I am, I'll punch your dick off. Really, I mean it this time." She leads with that, doubling down when he rolls his eyes, "I think that the rat bastard has some useful skills. He's very easy to underestimate, tons of weaknesses. Having such an obvious looking weak link would be very beneficial to us. We could do a lot with that. People would think there's something to exploit and boom, they're wrong and dead. Could be a useful member to the team."
Hancock laughs at that. It's about as full a laugh that he can get, sounding like a reed flute. He laughs until he's leaning on her, about to fall over.
"I hope that's how you talk about me to people. Holy shit," he wheezes, "I think that's the nicest fucking thing you've ever said. If that's how you feel, absolutely. I figured you'd come around eventually but oh my god. I think you're going to kill me."
He goes on like that for a solid minute; the only reason she tolerates it is because he never accuses her of going soft. She just rolls her eyes and waits for him to shut up.