Chapter 47 “Listen, Rosie...” John awoke feeling his lover’s comfort. Rosie lay across his chest, her hair smelt like soap. He couldn’t take his eyes from her arm. Someone had tried to cut if off, just like he’d been warned about. A nearly neat scar below the elbow, and surgical one across it. It had healed faster than he would have thought. She had a scar on her foot too, like she’d stepped on something sharp that went right through. And a wound on her hip that still had a dressing on. No one had helped Rosie when she needed it most. John felt even more grateful for the strangers he met on the road. A road that led him to this, the happiest moment of his life. Rosie’s road had been bloody. He knew that when he saw the dead mercs in the daylight. She’d butchered them. The only time John had seen anything like it was at the hands of Recon scouts. Don’t fuck with Recon, he thought. John watched as Rosie opened her eyes, turning to meet his. The pair fell into spontaneous laughter. As if they’d woken from a dream into a better reality. Between them, they reached the ludicrous idea of staying in bed until someone came for them. John felt himself fall back to sleep, still exhausted, and Rosie slipped from the bed. Rosie knew Charlie wouldn’t stay in bed if she had a patient, and she wouldn’t do less than her. She darted out quickly and quietly, her black fatigues on and boots untied. She found Robco in his house, asleep on a chair, his leg raised. Rosie gingerly patted the dog as it woke, feeling the fur against her skin for the first time. Robco stirred. “I need to change your dressing, don’t move.” The stitches held overnight, but Rosie didn’t like the look of the swelling around the entrance wound. Louisa appeared, still looking tired. They agreed to take Robco into town tomorrow. She insisted that Rosie rest, and she would bring food over in a little while. Rosie slipped back into bed without waking John, and finally got access to his pipboy. She nearly punched him for leaving it such a mess. Rosie had known since her visit to Excalibur Outpost that the Brotherhood weren’t tracking John, but that didn’t explain why she couldn’t track him. She guessed that his pipboy wouldn’t have been reset. She felt grateful that he hadn’t felt the agony that made her want to die, but knew she may have to inflict that pain on him eventually. The advanced combat systems were still trapped behind the crude Vault installed garbage operating systems. The emergency combat protocols in John’s pipboy would only activate under threat, he didn’t have any real control over it. No wonder he’s scared of it, she thought. John stirred and pulled his arm away, just like he used to. Rosie smiled remembering Wallace complaining about it too, and a story of John being chained to a table. She connected her four pin to his pipboy, lay back, and started accessing it remotely. Smiling as a half asleep John put his arm around her. She scrolled to the transponder and found it had been active, except the signal was being sent to the Vault network. It had been trying to connect to a network buried deep underground. And operated by people who didn’t care about John in the least. She grew frustrated trying to shut it off, finding the crude system she hated too basic and rigid to manipulate. Rosie left it alone, a signal that no one would be looking for couldn’t compromise them. And she managed to splice into his internal comm, able to track him that way. If she decided to let him out of her sight again. She heard footsteps outside the door and reflexively slid into cover at the bedroom door, till she saw Louisa leave. She brought in the covered plate of soft bread rolls filled with crisp bacon, and ate two before the smell woke John. John found Rosie eating at the kitchen table, he sat and joined her, still finding the day like a dream made real. “Listen, Rosie,” He knew he had to apologise, and he knew Rosie didn’t want to hear it. “I don’t want to talk about the past John.” Rosie didn’t look up from the book she’d nearly finished. “I don’t either, but…” John trailed off as Rosie got up from the table. For an instant he felt like she could leave, that he could be left as she was. It took the breath from his lungs. He stepped closer, slipping an arm around her waist as she stopped. “Come to bed.” Rosie smiled, and they didn’t talk about the past. Later, John thought, later. John didn’t know if Rosie was asleep. Her closed eyes fluttered as if dreaming, yet her finger and thumb seemed to twitch. John had gleaned from her whirling swordplay and blink fast movements, to say nothing of her command of robots, that Rosie had control over the pipboy in a way he didn’t. John slipped out for a moment, finding Robco sat outside the workshop, sketching on thick paper. Inside Louisa worked on some leather, glancing over at Wallace as he drew at his bench. John peered over the small shoulder, seeing what he’d guessed, repeated drawings over a slender figure, wearing black. “Can you get Sheriff Bob on comms, the radio?” John asked Robco as he fed the fire for him. “Tell him I’ll be there for my truck tomorrow.” “I will. We’ll head into town tomorrow.” Robco seemed brighter, despite the pain. “We?” John asked, nodding to the bandaged leg. “Just a flesh wound, besides, I’ve got an idea or two. Now get out of here.” Robco told him to leave warmly. “John,” He turned as Louisa threw him something, a long tape measure. “I need measurements, both of you. Can’t have my friends looking shabby now can we.” She winked and went back to work. “Leave them on the porch, I’ll get them when I drop off dinner.” John felt himself lucky indeed. And yet, something gnawed at him. He found Rosie picking out a new book from the shelf, her back to him as he sat. “I’m sorry I used your code without you.” John felt like he’d pulled the pin on a hand grenade, tossing it into his living room. He knew that it had to be done. Rosie’s shoulders slumped and she let out a deep sigh. “And?” She snarled. John said nothing. “You couldn’t give me one day.” Rosie didn’t turn around. “I want to give you, us, everyday. There’s nothing I want more, but I promised myself I’d never keep anything from you again. I went back into the Vault last week.” “What?!” Rosie turned and glared, fuming. “Things are...better, but people died Rosie.” John needed her to understand. “So?” Rosie didn’t bat an eye. “I told them the truth, and that’s the last thing I’m doing for them.” “They built the fire Rosie. We lit the match. There’s over a thousand people who want out, I’m going to build a place for them. Something like a halfway house, ease them into the world so they can live free. I swore an oath Rosie. I have to get them out.” John held his breath as Rosie's eyes looked at the door. “That’s not even a third. Ignorant morons.” Rosie glared into his eyes. “Want to know what happened when I got out?” “Yes.” John hoped bluntness and a calm tone would help them both. “I walked a day and night, without shoes or water. Then raiders tried to cut my arm off.” Rosie’s voice broke. “They sold me to Filth who put a fucking collar on my neck.” Rosie’s anger infected John, his guilt fuelling it. “Are they dead?” John saw Rosie caught off guard by the question, she understood that if she’d said no, John would gear up and move out that very moment. “Yes. All of them.” Rosie snapped her fingers. “Do you know what is was like to miss you and be angry at you? At you!” John saw the true nature of his betrayal, a deep cut that didn’t heal like her arm. “And you did it for people who still want to live in that hell.” “I didn’t do it for them, never for them.” John shot back. “I did it for you Rosie.” “You left me behind.” Rosie’s anger broke and only hurt remained in her voice. “Where I thought you would be safe. If I could have gone through that instead I would have, gladly.” John felt the fear of that first day even now. “You wouldn’t have made it.” Rosie rubbed her arm as if it still hurt. “And I would be fine with that if it spared you.” John stopped talking and stood next to Rosie. She shoved him with both hands. He staggered back a step, but didn’t move the second time. Rosie broke with the third shove and embraced him, sobbing onto his chest “Don’t say that to me ever again. Never.” Rosie didn’t look at him. “And I don’t want to see or hear about that place.” Rosie paused. “Is Dutch ok?” “He’s fine, worried about you. I put him in charge of getting the radio playing on every floor.” John heard a faint laugh turn into another cry. “I’m still angry John...but I don’t want to be angry at you.” Rosie seemed tired of carrying her rage. “If you want space for yourself I can stay next door.” John held his breath as he looked at the door this time. “No.” Rosie slumped back onto the couch. “Who’s going to fix the shower if you do.” She smiled. “Yeah, it’s not broken. It just doesn't get that hot.” John wondered where Rosie had been staying all this time. “I’ll pick up some parts in town tomorrow.” Rosie burst into laughter at the mundane pleasure in her words. “Like a wastrel.” John opened the door to Louisa, after sitting for an hour with Rosie in comfortable silence. “Can we eat here, together, please?” “We don’t want to intrude.” Louisa looked past him to Rosie who smiled and nodded. John got Robco, and Wallace hurried after. Louisa plated up the still warm roast pork and fried tatos. With gravy. John sat on a crate, as he’d done many times before, and ate. “Next time I’ll cook.” Rosie said with a smile. “Not that it wasn’t delicious, thank you.” “You can cook?” John asked with surprised delight. “Yeah, I might even teach you.” Rosie looked to Wallace with a smile. “If Janey can manage it I’m sure you'll catch up.” “Janey can cook!” Wallace seemed impressed, something not easily done. “Who’s Janey?” John asked, thinking of the pregnant woman in the Vault, and getting laughed at in return. “I didn’t take Rosie’s measurements yet.” John lent in and whispered to Louisa. “She got weird when I asked.” “You still don’t know shit about women do you John.” Louisa replied loudly. “No, he doesn’t.” Rosie agreed with a smile. “Ladies, be fair now.” Robco interjected. “John doesn't know shit about most things.” Everyone laughed, including John. “But he knows enough.”