Chapter Text
‘Three days. No, maybe… maybe it had been four. Yeah, probably four days.’ She really couldn't remember, and the glowing date on her Pip-Boy didn't give her much of a clue even as her eyes bore into it through her curtain of dark hair. For all she knew, it could have been a couple weeks. The freezing air of the vault, then the awkward reunion with Codsworth, and clearing the abandoned neighborhood of overgrown pests kept her distracted at first as she tried to piece her life together. The days after her escape had been spent resting, crying, turning her new reality over in her head until she was certain it was all just a dream. Then she would wake up with a small start, staring blankly at the concrete ceiling of Nate’s bomb shelter, and immediately wonder why they hadn't just stayed put. It was large, sturdy, and well-stocked with supplies, and yet…
‘It was for the best.’
Pulling herself up from her hunched position on the edge of the bed, Alex crept into the workshop and scanned the concrete room for more supplies. Several black gun cases, a whole stack, caught her eye first and she drifted toward them with little more than a vague idea in her mind. Codsworth had mentioned something about Concord, that there were people there that may help her, although his descriptions of them were less than comforting. She would need a weapon, something that would make her seem a lot more vicious and domineering than she really was. Nate’s old weapons were perfect for that, even if she would rather leave them behind.
A little smirk, the first bit of positivity she’d felt in days, spread on her lips as she clicked open one of the hard, heavy cases and drummed her fingers over the military-issue sniper rifle inside. It seemed to carry the perfect mix of safety and intimidation she was looking for. Piece by piece, she carefully assembled it on the bench and then stepped toward a shelf full of ammunition boxes, selecting a few dozen rounds. She stacked the thin cardboard boxes on the bench and turned on her heel to the lockers, filled to the brim with fatigues. After a bit of digging, Alex turned up a blackened set of armor that seemed suitable, though not particularly fashionable. She squeezed her eyes shut as she dumped the pieces on the bench, internally scolding herself for being so concerned with her appearance.
“This is the apocalypse, for fucks sake! No one cares what you look like,” she said to herself, under her breath. “Besides, you'll probably still end up being hotter than everyone else…”
Back in the main bunker area, she laughed to herself as she browsed the shelves full of supplies. A few boxes of Instamash were ripped open and their bagged contents thrown into a leather pouch. Two cans of Cram joined them, along with a couple packs of bubblegum. The next pouch became home to some first aid supplies, and then she filled her canteen to the brim with fresh water, straight from a can. She sipped it, wondering if the aluminum left a taste behind, though she (thankfully) couldn't detect anything.
‘You’re full of yourself. Don't get too cocky out there.’
With another low snicker, Alex zipped up her vault suit, the last and only piece of clothing she owned, and began to strap on the combat armor. It smelled like years of dust and faintly of sweat and gunpowder. Her stomach dropped for a moment, suddenly scared of the very real possibility of dying in the middle of some deserted wasteland, but her chest swelled confidently as she lifted the rifle and strapped it to her back. No, she wasn't a sniper; that was Nate, the man who had trained hard to become Special Forces one day. But she did know how to shoot, and how to shoot well. That would have to be enough for now.
Packed and ready, the pale, wide-eyed vault dweller holstered her old revolver and headed up to the stairs to the surface, finally ready to face the world on her own.
**
“Codsworth, if I don't come back… please don't look for me. Find Shaun, okay?” Alex said quietly, tears pricking the corners of her eyes as she walked beside the Mr. Handy. They were nearly to the bridge and the robot hesitated.
“Of course, mum. Stay safe, and do return promptly if you can,” Codsworth said, bobbing in a sort of smile. “I'll have dinner prepared when you do!”
She thanked the bot with a girlish giggle and then bit her tongue as she turned away. ‘You've got to toughen up, act hard! People out here are going to step all over you if you're soft. You've seen the movies!’
Yes, all the movies depicted people of the apocalypse as psychotic, murderous, babbling animals that roamed the deserted world, killing just for fun. At least, those were the movies Alex had seen. Even so, she couldn't be sure people would actually be like that now, or that other people were still alive to begin with. Codsworth wouldn't say how long it had been since his visit to Concord, and that meant it could easily have been 200 years ago. He always seemed to have difficulty understanding lengths of time, perhaps because he was a robot. Or, perhaps he needed maintenance.
Either way, the vault dweller was cautious as she wandered out into the street on the other side of the creek. She side-stepped the rotting bodies, one of a dog and the other a man, wondering what had happened to them. Had that man been squatting in her house, or her neighbor’s house? A little flame of anger sparked inside her, but she extinguished it when she remembered it didn't matter. Not anymore, not ever. Her house had belonged to Nate, and now to the wasteland. It was never hers to begin with.
A loud bark startled her and she reached for her revolver as she ducked behind a small car, abandoned just outside the Red Rocket. Peering through the smashed window, she saw a bouncy, excited looking dog, nothing like the mangy thing she had just passed before. It sniffed the air and barked some more, almost like it was looking for someone. Alex decided there wasn't much harm in calling to the dog, so she stepped around the car and did just that. The German shepherd barked again and raced towards her, looking expectantly up at her face.
“Well, hey there! Are you all alone out here, buddy?” Alex asked, stooping to pet him. His fur was luxuriously soft compared to everything she had touched recently and it took most of her self-control to refrain from burying her face in his neck. “You wanna come with me? I could use a friend…”
The young dog barked again as if to say yes and she patted him gently on the head. She jerked her head back to the street and clicked her tongue. “Come on, then. Let's go!”
**
“You sure that doesn't hurt?” Preston asked, wrapping up a nasty gash on Alex’s upper arm. “You're pretty damn tough, taking out that deathclaw on your own. I'm not going to hold it against you or anything if-“
“No, Preston, I’m fine! I’m not gonna cry, I swear it doesn't even hurt that bad,” she said, just barely snapping at him. Sure, the alcohol stung a little as he generously dabbed it onto the wound, and it had hurt a bit more when the giant beast ripped the power armor clean off her arm with just a single swipe, but she could handle it without so much as gritting her teeth. She certainly wasn't going to be a baby about it, though, even if it did hurt. It was a talent that she was sure would come in handy from now on.
“Y’know, if you can find the pieces of that arm, I can repair it for ya,” Sturges said, leaning against the empty doorway. He jabbed his thumb back at the damaged suit. “That's some pretty sweet power armor, and I'd hate to see it go to waste.”
Preston sighed and tipped his hat back with a thumb, looking over to the suave handyman. He opened his mouth to speak but Alex piped up before he got a chance.
“Yeah, I'll see if I've got time to look for it tomorrow,” she said, sighing. “I, uh… I wanted to thank you guys for helping me out so much. This has been unexpected, to say the least.”
Both men smiled warmly and Preston gently patted her on the shoulder. “Don't mention it. We owe you a lot more, anyway. I just hope one day we can really return the favor.”
Later that night, once everyone had gotten a sleeping bag from the shelters supply closet, Alex huddled up by the fire close to Sturges and the dog, who she had learned was named Dogmeat. They were all happy for each other’s company and a conversation about the Commonwealth had struck up over a bottle of whiskey.
“So this Diamond City place… is it the only settlement around? Besides the farms and shit?” she asked, trying to imagine what it must look like. After 200 years, she would have expected something pretty big, and at least a few more cities than just the one.
“Nah, Diamond City is the biggest and the one everybody knows about. Quincy was decent sized, too, at least until those damn gunners came along. Other than that, you've really only got Goodneighbor for your big settlements,” Sturges replied, shrugging his shoulders.
“Goodneighbor, huh? Where might that be?”
“Ah, well… Never been there myself, but from what I've heard it's built mostly ‘round the old State House. Dangerous place, though. Lots of criminals and mercenaries. You should really try to avoid it, at least for as long as you can.”
Silence fell between them as Alex thought for a moment. If it was as dangerous and shady as Sturges said, perhaps the man she was seeking was hiding out there. But then, if that was the case, what the hell would he want with a baby? Her mind exploded with dozens of seemingly outlandish scenarios, everything from child slavery to human sacrifice to a surrogate baby. After a few minutes, Sturges patted her on the knee, temporarily interrupting her minds grip.
She hardly heard what he said, but she mumbled a half-hearted goodnight and slipped out the open doorway to her shelter. It was eerily silent in the outside darkness, and if not for her imagination running absolutely wild, the lack of sound probably would have been deafening. Dogmeat followed closely at her heels, whining softly as she absentmindedly kicked away bits of concrete and debris as her tired feet dragged across the pavement. She nearly tripped over a loose board near the curb, but caught herself at the last minute on the mailbox.
“Shit! What the fuck is all this shit doing out here?” she whispered, looking down at her scuffed boots with incredulity. Her mind suddenly jumped back to the present and she was rudely reminded of the fact that her entire neighborhood was now in shambles. Her breathing hitched and her eyes watered helplessly as she flipped her Pip-Boy light on and shuffled into the house, searching for the hatch to get to the basement.
By the time Alex’s fingers closed around the handle, she was already crying, her knees collapsing pathetically from under her. Dogmeat was instantly by her side, nosing her shoulder and licking a few tears from her cheeks as they fell. The basement handle was forgotten as she buried her hands deep in the brown and black fur, her entire body shaking with each wracking sob. Nobody from the neighboring house could hear her, but for that she was grateful. How embarrassing it would be to cry your eyes out in front of a bunch of strangers, over a silly baby no less!
But it wasn't silly, not to her. Because deep down, she knew her baby was dead. Alex knew, with absolute certainty, that Shaun had either withered away and died, or that he had been brutally murdered for one horrendous reason or another. She could feel it, or rather, she could feel the lack of her baby out there in the world. Despite what Mama Murphy had assured her of, Shaun was not out there, and she would not find him.