Fallout: Fury Blood

Chapter 3: Raider Troubles

"Ok, I'm calling it. Why the long face?"

Kelly was startled out of her thoughts by Deacon's words, craning her neck up from the cooking pot to look at him. Although his sunglasses veiled his eyes, she knew his stare bore through her, and he was serious. Something seldom witnessed.

Despite it, she threw it back at him. "Could be your surgeon screwed up your mug. Or maybe you've just swapped your face so much that it's all starting to melt down."

"Firstly, I haven't gone under the knife for a few months, now," Deacon countered, stepping down from his sentry point on a boulder and picking his way to her. "Secondly, that actually hurt my feelings. And thirdly, no playing, I'm being serious." He squatted down on his haunches next to the campfire, propping his rifle on the ground to balance on it. "When you asked me to tag along, I wasn't expecting to have to chase you 24/7 at full speed across the Commonwealth. This may come as a shock, but I'm not as fit as I used to be, and definitely not as reckless, either. But you! You might have to take the cake on that one. You could probably do with eating it, too..."

Kelly cast him a glare beneath heavy brows for that. He wasn't the first to mention her drop in weight. She was always on the move, and finding the time to eat these days was the least of her worries.

"And no, chems are not a good substitute for food," Deacon seemed to read her mind before it got there. Her glare turned to fire. Had he been snooping through her pack? "Oh, I've noticed you taking samples when you think I'm not looking. I work as a spy, remember?"

Kelly pouted and cursed under her breath, that fire now turning inward. She should have known he would pick up on it. "It's just to get me through until things settle down. There's too much to do out here."

"I'm sure Hancock and Cait would be dancing circles right now, but I'm not. Where's the original Kelly? You know, the one that fixed people's problems, not turned into a problem herself."

She stabbed the mutt chops in the pot with her combat knife. "So, I'm a problem, am I?"

Deacon didn't hesitate. "Yeah, you are. I'm not exactly ecstatic to have a moping mess watching my back one minute, then a raging raider leaving me in her dust the next." Maybe she should have accepted Piper's offer to talk, after all. Deacon obviously didn't understand the concept of empathy. He drew her eye as he gave a long sigh. "I understand if you don't wanna talk about whatever is inside your head, but don't expect me to sit twiddling my thumbs while you turn yourself into a vegetable. I told you all my shit, and yeah, my previous life wasn't quite as glamorous as yours, but it was still a slap in the face to lose it all in the blink of an eye. So anytime you wanna let me in there," he tapped a finger on her head, "Feel free. Besides, if we're gonna be partners, you need to get cleaned up and start taking care of yourself, or you won't be doing anyone any good for much longer, me included."

Kelly followed his every word with her fire waning, as if each syllable he uttered ate away at the fuel. Deep down, she knew he was right. She was killing herself like this, relying on the chems, barely sleeping, and when she did, the nightmares raided any attempts. Little Shaun being ripped from Nate's hands, the shouting, the panic and helplessness, then the gunshot, that dreadful sound, and Nate just limp, empty, gone. God, she missed him so much, it still hurt like the day she lost him. If only Kellogg didn't pull the trigger, why did he have to? He could have overpowered Nate easily fresh out of cryo. The fucking bastard. Every single day, she savored the memory of killing that piece of shit, of her knife ripping through his gut, wrenching it up with that satisfying squelch and pathetic wince on his breath.