Fandom Imagines and Preferences V

Curie- Mirelurk (a)

Fallout 4 One Shot

"What is wrong?" Curie asked as you peered longingly into the makeshift shack that you used to call home before the raiders found you. Long rusted nails and splinters of wood pressed against your fingers as you ran your hands along the windowpane. "Y/n?" She called out again, concerned. You must have lost track of time as you envisioned you and your little family sitting around waiting for some of Dad's mirelurk cakes to be plucked from the now dormant campfire.

"Oh... sorry." Curie rested her newly gifted hand onto your shoulder. You told her how real it felt, how you would never know she was a synth if you weren't there when she was implanted into the body.

"It would seem that you are unhappy Sir/Madame? Research has indicated that talking about your problems with a trusted peer can show great results in improving the state of your mood." Trudging through the blood covered Commonwealth wasn't the easiest thing in the world, but now you had Curie and her facts to keep you company.

Your fingers danced around the inner workings of your trusty pistol as you told her your distain for 'dealing with quacks', you quickly realised your mistake and promptly informed her of the meaning.

"I am no... quack. I am your friend, at least I hope so." Body parts and discarded weapons bobbed along the Charles River, a quick pit stop had led to you gazing over it, using its murky water to contemplate every decision that had led you to where you were today.

"Fine." She followed you over to whatever heart to heart seat that you could find, in this case it was half of a bench, you kept your weapons close but still managed to relax as much as possible.

"Always trust science." She proclaimed happily. "The data never lies."

"So" A deep breath filled your lungs with the stench of rot and dust, it was all you knew and you probably would never get used to that smell. "Me and my family used to live in that shack."

"What happened?"

"Raiders." You exclaimed bluntly, you knew with her limited emotional range there was no point trying to avoid the matter. "They found us one night, bust down the door, killed my family and sold me to slavers."

"And you managed to make it out alive?" She asked, her hand cupped on top of yours. "Some caravanners we knew noticed the damage and paid some detective to track us down."

"I am very sorry. I can not even imagine feeling such loss."

"This is the Commonwealth. You kill or you die."

~*~

Written by Aaron.