The Minutemen: United We Stand

Chapter 40

"... to Goodneighbor?" Deacon's voice faded into Nora's consciousness, and she opened her eyes only to regret it as the light lanced into her hungover mind. With a groan, she threw an arm over her face and took a deep, shaky breath.

"Morning," MacCready said, taking her hand and placing a bottle in it. "Water, then food. Come on."

"God... I'm never drinking again..." Nora sat up with help from MacCready and took a tentative sip of water.

"Ah, the anthem of the hungover!" Deacon sighed, winking at Nora.

"Where're your sunglasses?" she asked, wincing through the light to stare at his naked face.

"Must've come off in the water," he said, shrugging. "No biggie, I have more at home."

"Here's some food," Danse said, handing Nora a wrapped meal.

She pulled back the paper and found a sandwich. Gingerly, she took a nibble and her stomach flipped, but she forced it down. "What were you guys talking about?"

"Huh?" Deacon asked, rubbing his bald head and staring at Nora with wide eyes.

"What about Goodneighbor?" The men exchanged looks, and Nora's stomach dropped. "Trying to find a place to lock me up until I'm sane again?" She turned back to the sandwich and took another bite, ignoring the anxiety fluttering in her chest.

"Kind of..." MacCready confessed, sitting down next to her and holding her water. "We just think you need some time to process everything."

"And a safe place to do it," Danse added, his voice soft.

"Then not Goodneighbor..." Nora said, ice flowing through her.

Deacon blinked at her. "But your husband-"

"Hates me."

Painful silence settled over the shack.

The Paladin stepped forward and knelt down by Nora, his hand resting on her shoulder. "You don't know that."

"You didn't see the look in his eyes..." Nora said, her chest constricting as she set the sandwich on her lap and pressed her hand to her eyes. "I don't blame him... Hell, I'd judge him if he didn't."

"He loves the hell out of you," Deacon said, all humour falling away. "Anger and hate... they aren't the same."

"Deacon. I've done enough bullshit to see him angry. I know the difference." Nora shook her head as tears stung her eyes, and she took the water from MacCready, taking a few swigs to fight the tears.

"Shouldn't you give the guy a chance to tell you for sure? One way or another?" MacCready asked, patting Nora's back.

With a sigh, Nora gave the mercenary the water bottle and turned back to the sandwich, staring at it. "I... I'm too scared to know for sure..."

"Weren't you the one who tackled a deathclaw?" Robert asked, jostling her with a hollow chuckle in his voice.

"I'd do it all over again, a thousand times, without power armour, before I'd talk to Hancock right now." Nora met the eyes of every man there, unblinking. "I'm not kidding."

"I've seen men get grievously wounded on the field of battle," Danse said, cutting the awkward tension. "Everyone handles physical disabilities differently. I've seen good men become bitter, and bitter men grow soft..." He smiled at Nora. "It takes time and support to get through that kind of adjustment. Hancock needs you now, more than he ever did before."

Nora pulled up her knees and hugged her legs, trying to calm the rapid beat of her heart.

"I get that you're scared," Deacon butted in, squatting next to Nora and tilting his head at her. "We'll be there for you. And if the guy's a dick, we'll take care of you. But he is your husband and you need to be there for him."