Chapter 46 “Oh so that’s a dog.”

Outside the sun had just started to set. John heard a small voice, shouting and unafraid. “Yeah most of its junk but the torso and the arms look solid.” John turned a corner and saw Wallace climbing on the Sentry bot that attacked him. He wanted to hug the boy tight, and do the same to Rosie, but the look in Wallace’s eyes made him rethink that. John decided to keep things light, for all their sakes.

“You know that thing tried to kill me right?” John let Wallace see him.

“Pop Pop says if we didn’t salvage bots that tried to kill him, we wouldn’t salvage any.” Wallace wiped a tear before it fell. “Are you ok?” John smiled.

“I’m ok. Let’s go home.” John resisted the urge to lift him down.

“Just a few more minutes.” Rosie added, handing him food they hadn’t brought with them. John found himself too hungry to care and devoured the delicious grilled radstag wrap. “You remember Matt and Charlie.” John recognised Rosie’s teammates, and felt too tired to stand to attention.

“Need a medic?” Charlie asked, seeing the state of him.

“No sir, just a lie down.” John tried to joke.

“Well I’m sure Rosie will see to you.” John saw Rosie roll her eyes, before taking charge of an Assaultron and using the laser to cut at the slumped Sentry bot.

“Here, switch off with me.” Matt took the light machine gun from John, giving him an integrally suppressed carbine that actually felt light. “If Sara saw you with a weapon in this state, you’d run laps till you puked.” They shared a knowing smile.

“What is that?” John heard a question from behind and felt relieved the boy hadn't seen the improvised weapon before.

“I shorted it out.” John took off the Assaultron long gun he’d taken and gave it to Wallace.

“I can fix it.” Wallace smiled, struggling to hand it back.

“I bet you can. Eat something Wallace, we’ve got a long walk.” John wondered how the boy would handle a thirty mile trek after the last twenty four hours.

“John, I’m not walking all that way.” Wallace and Rosie shared a sumg look.

A screech of metal brought John to his feet, carbine levelled and eyes on Wallace. “Stand easy.” Rosie walked past him, practically skipping after Wallace. From the robot factory door emerged one of the Sentry bots, dragging a dumpster on wheels, overflowing with robotic parts.

“Looks like they got everything on the list!” Wallace poked at the parts, nearly falling in, as Rosie did the same.

“We don’t get it either.” Charlie sidled up to John and only half joked. “If there’s things you don’t want taken apart, write ‘no’ on them, before Rosie turns them into something else.”

“I didn’t think she’d want anything to do with making things. Or robots.” John knew Rosie had vivid and scary dreams about killer robots, and thoroughly hated the repair shop. It had been a concern to him, given the trade of Robco’s Rest. Now she looked happier than John could remember, digging through enough junk to build ten bots at least. “She looks happy.” John caught her eye as she noticed him staring. Rosie smiled then took an articulated arm from Wallace.

The Sentry bot, the Assaultron, and the haul, took a different route that Rosie programmed. She would check in, seeing through robotic eyes, as they started the long walk back.

“I’m guessing we’re out of radio range.” Wallace knew that they were, yet John tried to soften his answer.

“Yeah, but we won’t be long.” John heard Rosie make a dismissive noise.

“They get Lady Luck right, show me the frequency.” Rosie puffed out her cheeks and shook her head as John rolled up his sleeve, annoyed at the fifteen seconds it took. She took note of the frequency and seemed to zone out for a few seconds. “Go ahead.” She held out her arm to John.

“Robco’s rest, this is Ro...John. How—” He didn’t even make it to the end of the transmission.

“John, it’s Robco.”

“Pop Pop!” Wallace started to cry immediately “I’m ok, is Momma there?”

“She’s resting son, but I’ll tell her the good news. You listen to John now, he’s in charge.”

“Yes Pop Pop.”

“John, you hear me? How long till you’re all home?”

“Eight hours, maybe more. We’re solid, and have back up.”

“Stay safe son, I’ll have a whiskey with your name on it.”

“Solid copy. Out.” He had to hold back his own tears, knowing they were far from home, and the safety of the Rest.

John soon lost track of the conversion that ascended into technobabble almost immediately. He heard a word he knew come up and made the mistake of mentioning the wooden horse that ended a decade long siege. They made fun of him for the next two miles. He didn’t mind. Wallace and Rosie laughing sounded better than music.

“Hold up.” Rosie stopped and sat against a tree.

“We should rest.” Rosie saw John’s concern, but didn’t share it. She watched him looking around and checked his map screen. Maddened by the old fashioned display John used instead of the dormant system in his eyes. She already knew his pipboy would be a mess, but wanted him to get a full night's sleep before revealing the things he could do, that they both could do.

“Relax.” She smiled as John took cover and aimed at the approaching trundling noise. The bots had moved faster than them, and now came into view before turning onto the road north. Rosie walked over to the towed dumpster, checking the wheels she’d programmed bots to attach had held. She pulled out two of the chairs she’d had put in, wedging them in place on the side of the dumpster.

“Told you we weren't walking all that way.” Wallace excitedly climbed up and sat next to Rosie.

John took point up the straight road while Rosie answered every question asked her, even asking a few of her own. Wallace yawned, tired in body, but not in mind. Rosie tried to think of the last time she spoke with a child, and couldn’t, reaching the conclusion that it must have been when she lived on the family deck. Rosie had known that she didn’t fit in with them from an early age. She wished that Wallace had been her friend then.

The trip back proved entirely uneventful. John seemed more relaxed the further north they got. They passed the Tower in the distance, unmissable in the fallen night, and let the bots take a slower, flatter route. They moved slowly, John stayed back with Wallace while Rosie took point. A sharp whistle drew her back to a long crashed truck.

“How long before the bots get here?” Wallace asked her. She checked in on their position and looked through their eyes, wondering if anyone would be stupid enough to attack them.

“Another hour at least.”

“Get them to wait here, we can tow them up with the truck. Don’t tell Pop Pop, he’s going to love this stuff!” Wallace slipped behind the long crashed trailer and started running. She saw John sigh, exhausted, but not willing to tell the boy to slow down. Or let him out of his sight. It made her smile.

They followed a cascading river up stream, the water had the faintest glow that grew brighter in the pools. They passed through a sparse forest and a path through rocky cliffs, then powered up the last hill.

“Momma! Momma!” Wallace took off running and the wooden gates flung open. Rosie saw the distraught woman light up as she embraced her son, returned to her by them. She felt pride in what they’d done. John dropped to his knees and slumped onto his back, staring up into the night, breathing in the relief. She sat next to him, cross legged on the soft ground.

“You’re missing it.” She smiled at him as he sat up, then went back to seeing the joy in a face she’d only seen in distress. Rosie heard a noise that sent a shiver down her spine, and saw what looked very much like a wolf pounce on the boy.

“Relax, it’s a dog.” John seemed to know what she thought.

“Oh so that’s a dog.” She’d been told about them by her friends but never been this close.

“They’re actually pretty great.” John heaved himself up and offered her his hand. “Want to play with her?”

Rosie followed John in, stopping to pat the dog as John made it sit and put out its paw. Wallace got passed off from person to person, each hugging him tightly.

“Rosie.” She turned at hearing her name, and saw the boy’s mother, eyes puffy and her nerves raw. “I can’t tell you...thank you.” The woman hugged her in a way that made her uncomfortable.

“Louisa right?” Rosie joked, breaking away from the mother as she lost sight of her son and became startled for a moment.

“Wave.” John whispered to her, and they both waved to the people stood on porches, all holding candles. Rosie knew they wanted to run over, but instead waited, as to not overwhelm the boy.

She followed John round the house to see the older man sat on worn and comfortable furniture outside the workshop. The cold and dark kept at bay by the crackling firepit. He and Wallace both sobbed.

“I’m sorry Pop Pop, I’m so sorry.” Wallace managed to splutter out.

“Ain’t your fault Junior.” Robco pulled his grandson close, looking and extending an arm to John. “Ain’t yours either son. I’m proud to know you John.” He shook John’s hand, holding it for a long moment. Rosie picked up on something between them but didn’t really care.

“I need to check your leg.” Rosie checked her handiwork. The stitches had held and the swelling looked better. She changed the dressing and decided to call Charlie in the morning. Wallace had calmed down and started showing her things from his workbench.

“Junior, let the woman be now.” Robco seemed to enjoy saying that.

“It’s neat Wallace.” Rosie sat back in the chair and looked over at John. He fallen asleep with his head back and empty glass in his hand. Louisa had done the same, resting her head on his shoulder.

A small blonde woman and tall teenage boy came with food. Jenny and Little Mike. Although Rosie didn’t know why they called him little. They took Wallace to their house next door, almost like it had been his idea.

“How many questions did he ask you?” Robco half joked while pouring her a generous whiskey, wincing as he did it.

“I lost count after the first few hundred.” Rosie half joked as well. They both laughed.

“He don’t mean to be rude, and I gotta say, I’ve got a few of my own.” Robco threw back his drink and peered at the suit.

“Ask.”

“There’s time for all that.” Rosie had seen the older man’s workbench, and his craftsman's eye on her gear. “Actually I wanted to apologise for the day we met in the market.” Rosie remembered slashing at the man now saying sorry to her.

“No I’m sorry, I panicked.” Robco raised his hand in a gentle motion.

“You did right girl. Stranger grabs at you, cut him, and cut him deep.” He sipped his whiskey to let advice sink in. “I saw that look and I knew. I’d already let sleeping beauty over there run off, and I’m sorry for that too. Sorry for a lot of things.” The older man got lost in thought for a moment.

“I’ve known John his whole life. He keeps his promises, no matter what. So you wouldn't have stopped him. You don't have to be sorry for that.” Rosie felt grateful to have been trained to fight, and she knew John felt the same.

“He was a real mess when we found him. Scared half mad, racked with guilt.” She found herself staring at John as his friend told her things she’d felt as well. “He told me that night he’d get you here, and here you are. Home.” Robco paused, letting the sound of distant music and happy voices drift over the crackling fire.

“Home.” Rosie raised her glass and drank, calculating how long it would take to fly back to the lighthouse every few days. I can have two homes, she thought, like Burton Blake.

“What’d you do with that junk anyway?” Rosie smiled at hearing a question she would have asked.

“I used it to remotely operate a pair of light machine guns.” Rosie laughed as Robco nearly gagged on his whiskey.

“What in the hell you shooting at?”

“Raiders.” She couldn’t imagine these people would dislike that.

“Did he tell you what I say about raiders?” Rosie shook her head. “Every time you kill a raider, you save two lives. Yours, and the next person they were going to kill.” The words sounded like he said them often, yet somehow were more true to him in that moment.

“You hit any?” Robco asked after a pause.

“Like thirty.” That’s what Brandon told her anyway. This time he did cough and splutter on his whiskey.

“You killed thirty raiders?!” Robco realised he said that a little loud.

“And four more.” Rosie remembered her visit to The Grand well.

“Hot damn woman! You be sure and let me know if I get on your bad side.” They laughed as Robco refilled her glass, Rosie didn’t feel the need to decline.

“Wallace, Wallace!” Louisa woke and panicked, waking John.

“It’s alright Lou, Jenny took him next door, she’s made up a bed for you too.” Robco’s words calmed them both. John looked to the figure in black, lit by the fire and suddenly remembered it was Rosie. He slumped back in his chair, letting the relief wash over him.

Whatever happened next she could find this place and be safe, or at least safer. He let the questions go, knowing he had answers to give. Rosie left to bring in her loot, Robco sent Big Mike with her in the truck. The noise made John smile.

“How ‘bout a real drink?” Robco asked with heavy eyes and a forced smile. John took his weight and helped him slowly hobble out to his still for a real drink of Robco’s Private Reserve.

John sat him down on the canvas chair and laid a piece of wood on the still, remembering the tradition of showing peaceful intent. “I’ll have Rosie do the same later.” John half joked then let out a sharp breath. “Before you say anything, you should know that Billy is dead.” He knew being blunt would be best.

“Fuck. What happened out there?” Robco didn’t sound that surprised, not at first.

“Him and Hawkins had a side deal. They stole an egg from Deathclaw's nest. It tracked us for a day and night. Took out Billy and the whole crew.” John raised his tin cup to steady his nerve, but stopped. “To Billy.”

“To Billy.” Robco threw back his drink and John poured them both another. “How did you get away?” John gave an answer that he knew Robco wouldn’t like, but was the only answer he could give.

“Brotherhood training.”

“What is it they, you say, Ad?” Robco raised his cup again out of respect.

“Ad Victoriam.” John drank to that.

“Billy and Wallace, greedy both of them…it was him wasn’t it, under the armour, my son.” The words sounded like they hurt Robco.

“Yes.” John poured him another drink, they didn’t toast. “Wallace doesn’t know, no way he can know. I saw to that.” John kept his tone flat and even, their roles reversed from the night they met.

“Good, good." Robco took a long moment to think. "Did he suffer?” John couldn’t tell whether the truth would be best, or whether he should lie.

“It was a fight, but it ended quick. He seemed...sorry before the end.” John saw the mixed look he’d seen on Robco’s face before, and now understood it. Neither hate nor love, but both, inextricably linked.

“He always was sorry. Every time he showed up late, or missed dinner because he was dopesick, and that’s when he bothered to show up at all. About four years ago we hit a run of nice finds. He’d take his share and vanish for days. Came back when the caps ran out and the chems wore off, then started over again. This one night, he and Lou get into an argument, whole damn Rest heard it. He broke her wrist and two ribs, shoved Wallace against a wall, split the back of his head open. He was five. And my son, he was sorry then too.” John felt himself get angry, but knew it wouldn't help.

Robco paused to take a slow sip, pain and relief flowing like the Private Reserve. “I found him in town the next day, high, and I told him that if he came back home I’d shoot him dead on sight.” Robco took a deep long breath. “Six months later I’m working a site south of here. As I’m walking back to the truck I hear screaming and yelling. I see three raiders sticking a couple of travellers on the road. One of them was my son."

"Angry, twitching, spiked armour and a sawn off. This young fella with a gun on him makes a move and my son killed him. I fired and hit the others, but I hesitated as he saw me. My son didn’t hesitate. I taught him that. I hit him right below the eye and he dropped.” Robco sat back, his secret told for the first time. John thought about what Robco had said in the Vault, that his son had died at the hands of a violent man. It hadn’t been true then.

“You didn’t have a choice, just like I didn’t.” John knew that he could only listen, that hearing the secret would lessen it for them both.

“I put him in the truck, figure I’ll tell them something that might make them halfway proud, get a little closure. I stopped a mile out to clean him up and he’d gone. I told myself he’d staggered away and dropped dead, fallen in a river, or something ate him, but I knew. You remember that coffee shop?” John nodded. “I was trying to get answers and I put you in danger. I’m sorry for that John, and all that followed, truly.”

“Not your fault, you couldn’t have known.” John heard how hollow his words sounded. He couldn’t begin to understand the grief, torment, and the release of it ending.

“I know that...sometimes I can drink enough to believe it. This world chews people up John, turns 'em cruel. You bring people into it, you gotta watch out for them."

John helped Robco home, getting him to his couch. He stopped for a moment, unsure what to do, then went to where he'd last seen Rosie. A twinge of panic hit him as she wasn’t there. He darted for the gate, seeing it closed and the truck parked up with new bots near it. The panic built until he turned and saw light in the window of his home.

Inside he saw Rosie, dressed in real clothes for the first time, even if they were black combat fatigues. Her hair looked wet and her boots were tossed aside. She lay out on the couch reading the book on coding he’d bought her, with a gentle fire in the hearth. John froze for a moment unsure what to do. “Shower John.” Rosie didn’t look up from her book.

He stripped off the blood and oil stained clothes, flecks of metal plinking from them. He hid the vault-suit with his under armour, not wanting Rosie to see anything from before. John showered and found the lack of steam disappointing. He pulled on more fresh clothes and wondered about how washing them worked here.

Rosie slid her feet up as he approached. John sat and after a moment she stretched her legs across his lap, like they used to, biting her lip to hide a smile as his hands rested on them.

On the new table in front of him he saw something else that made him smile. A small radio, a bottle of whiskey, and something Wallace left. A six inch plastic toy that looked a lot like power armour.

John clicked on the radio, hearing soft melodic music he recognised, and leant back with a drink. There he sat, in a home of their own. Fire crackling, soft music playing, whiskey in hand and Rosie reading a book while he drifted off. The very thought he denied himself during long marches and cold nights, had become real. And yet, something gnawed at him.

“Listen, Rosie…”

“Later. Come to bed.”