Chapter Text
His employer stomps on his lit cigarette and snuffs the life of a nearby feral.
He crawls toward MacCready in their hiding spot, the bus creaking softly with his steps as he finally settles beside the merc.
"Shi- shoot man! Stop firing at anything that moves! We're just loosing ammo on pointless shtuff! We could've snuck by them, man!" MacCready snarls, but it lacks any real bite.
MacCready's starting to regret following this stranger.
Buuuuut...
His employer is showering him in caps for tagging along in mundane (albeit dangerous) bullshit missions. MacCready needs to get the fuck out of Goodneighbor until the Gunners ease off his ass, so it definitely helps to put distance between all that too.
So for now, as long as this stranger keeps his wallet full, MacCready fires at a stray ghoul that felt a little too curious about the humans' noises.
Fuller (if that was really this guy's name) just smirks and swipes his pointer finger against MacCready's forehead. The ratty man yelps and swats at his hand. Fuller chuckles and kicks at MacCready's shins while the bus groans and shakes. An irradiated crow startles in the distance.
That weird fucking familiarity, and the touchy-feely things in general aren't common out here in the Commonwealth. It's unsettling to not expect that you owe someone. MacCready still expects that. But so far, after six weeks of employment,it hasn't happened yet.
"Hey-! Was I hired by a five foot kid?!"
"Pshhh! Relax 'Creedy. Once we get back to Sanctuary, I'm gonna give you my best sniper rifle. It's WAY better than that old peashooter you're luggin'. And don't worry about ammo. I already said I can buy you ammo. I've scrounged enough in the wastes to find more than a few caps. I got connections!" Fuller boasts with a curl of his lip and a gravelly voice that's suddenly so close to MacCready's ear.
MacCready's nervous twitching at his current rifle's trigger turns to a firmer grip.
"Screw you, man." He grits out. His teeth ache with how much he suddenly wants to bite like a cornered animal. He doesn't want to bite. It's a dumb metaphor. Forget it.
"Is that an offer?" Fuller chirps and he digs through his backpack to find a piece of junk. It what usually happens when he looks through that damn back in the middle of a stake out. Or shoot out. Or stand off. He doesn't take much serious.
"I'm being serious!" MacCready seethes.
Fuller caws triumphantly like a fucking bird as he shoves a rusted screwdriver against MacCready's white knuckles.
"For when you're screwin' me! Get it?"
MacCready groans and slams out a fist, very narrowly missing his employer's jaw.
___
The long walk from the city of Boston to the outskirts of the Commonwealth was definitely not for the weak. They still had about seven hours to go until the pair would reach "Sanctuary" since Fuller stopped at every settlement along the way to fix generators and water pumps.
MacCready had taken the second backpack Fuller offered him when MacCready was first hired. It was crammed with food, purified water, and a spare change of clothes. Just for MacCready. It was suspicious. So fucking bizarre. MacCready kept expecting Fuller to yank him back and demand repayment, but all that happened was the constant pestering that came from traveling with a chatterbox.
And Fuller was shorter than him. He was littered with scars from close quarter combat and his weapons were horribly scuffed and dented from bashing skulls into concrete. He was able to hold his own for his stature and overtly "positive" nature. By all rights, he *looked* like the type of guy to wither away in this wasteland...
But MacCready still has trained eyes and a good sixth sense. He's not dumb enough to ignore how no drifters approach his employer first. Not obtuse enough to gloss over how no one solicits Fuller.
No one acknowledges Fuller for longer than a nod when he's outside Bunker Hill. The folk inside that guarded settlement seem to watch MacCready's every move, and Fuller just walks wherever he pleases.
MacCready did hear some rumours before he left Goodneighbor about the Railroad.
A mysterious group that saves synths, and disrupts the Institute.
He heard from a drunk ghoul that frequents the Slog that Fuller spearheads all the Railroad's dirty work. He also dabbled with the Minutemen.
The Minutemen theory was indeed confirmed in their travels together. Fuller was able-bodied and willing to help anyone who breathed in his presence.
And again...
Just before MacCready met the guy, the entirety of Boston shook with the explosion of the C.I.T. ruins. Hancock gave a speech the next day about how the Institute was destroyed by a vengeful father from a vault. A man from a world before. Taken from him, so he took back. That sort of thing.
MacCready begins to wonder what he signed up for. Or who.
____
Fuller lowers his combat rifle, Silvera, before slinging his pack off his shoulders. He digs around inside before pulling out one packet of dried fruit and another of mystery jerky. He offers the fruit to MacCready almost immediately and without much other thought.
"Uh. Thanks, I guess? You sure? I got stuff in my- in the bag you gave me..." MacCready trips on his words and he removes his own pack, looking for something to trade with the scarred man. Fuller chuckles with a faraway look in his shrewd stare.
"Just take it. You didn't eat anything yet, I know you feel bad about taking shit you didn't 'earn'."
"It's - It's just weird, boss. No one just does this shi- stuff out of the kindness in their hearts."
"... We used to. Before the bombs. Care for your own and all that." Fuller nods solemnly at the merc's head tilt.
"But -"
"Just take this shit, 'Creedy!" He snaps, and MacCready flinches like he set off a proximity mine.
"Please? It would make me very happy if you didn't die. It would probably be your best interest, too... I want you to have food, water, stimpaks, whatever. Just do it. This is just fruit. Take it." Fuller sighs.
MacCready does.
"A corpse can't count caps, bud." Fuller mutters as he begins to check his rifle's ammo. MacCready nods and rolls his shoulders back with his head.
____
Sanctuary is...
Well... "safe" is the best word MacCready can find in his vocabulary. Crops litter and occupy the grass patches. Brahmin huff and chew annoyingly beside a large wooden barn beside the bridge. Stray cats and guard dogs occupy some settler houses.
Oh, yeah, houses.
Most settlements are lucky to have just one. But this was a decent change to see clean people in clean beds. Running water, food, and merchant stalls. Hell, there's even a barber. MacCready is impressed and nervous in a weird little cocktail of emotions.
Fuller joked about "meeting the family", and then painfully explained how MacCready was a "new girl" to show off for his folk's approval.
("All joking, of course! You aren't dating me! Do people date out here still?? I do have a kid. Probably should've said somethin'...")
And yeah, it's a great place for a family. Sanctuary is guarded well. Its safe.
'It's a great place for a kid,' MacCready thinks the gate opens and a boy in a striped shirt comes running over to Fuller at mach speed.
It's like the kid was camped out by the fence for Fuller to come home any second. MacCready's throat bobs heavily.
"Dad! You're back! You brought another friend?" He yells, ecstatic, as he slings his arms around Fuller and then around MacCready, to the merc's suprise.
"Yup! This is Mac! Oh! And I brought you that alarm clock you needed, too!" Fuller looks proud as the kid immediately snatches the backpack off his dad's shoulders and investigates the clock within.
MacCready looks to his boss. An order would be a nice distraction right now. A post to keep watch. Some cover to hole up in.
His eyes feel warm. He misses his own son. It feels all wrong here. Sanctuary feels empty and fake and-
Fuller notices the lull and nods to MacCready. More to himself, perhaps. He gestures to a house farther into the settlement. Somewhere off the the right, maybe.
"Hey, Shaun? Why don't you go show Ada and Curie the new project you're working on, huh? That clock better come in handy." Fuller smiles pleasantly, and Shaun seems to get it. Shaun blessedly doesn't complain. The kid waves meekly at MacCready.
"Bye, mister! See you around!" Shaun whisper yells before swiping a box of Snack Cakes from his dad's bag. And then he's skipping off.
MacCready tightens his grip on his rifle. He never puts in down nowadays.
"Don't ask." MacCready snips as Fuller opens his mouth.
Tears are hard to fight, but he does for Lucy.
MacCready settles into Sanctuary for the night.