Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and before she knew it, Mickey Glass had been sleeping in her bed for almost a quarter of the year. He could walk now, a little hunched over and not too far in one go but… it was nice, seeing his health continue to improve. Shiloh was happy too, to have another person to play fetch with. Rarely did she leave his side, especially during the nights Noah would leave to go scavenge— for food or stimpacks or entertainment. It took Noah awhile to realize it was her own projection causing it, the need to get close to him, to make sure he was safe and not regressing.
By then, Shiloh was curling up at his feet every night, warding off the chill.
"We're a bit low," Noah said one afternoon, lacing up her traveling boots extra tight, weaving in bits of rusted metal and carved bone. "On, well, everythin'. Ima take the twins and go scavengin', prolly hunt on the way back. Day or three at tops. W-will you be aight?"
Lacing his hands through Shiloh's fur, watching the way that it stuck up between the interdigits of his fingers, Mickey nodded, albeit reluctantly. "I hate that you have to go alone," He said softly, the hand not being dragged through Shiloh's coat going to rest on the nearly healed wound on his stomach. It was so much better, but not all the way there, and a three day trip would be pushing it for sure. His eyes traveled up to meet hers, softening with a question that had been on his mind a long time now. "Has it... always been like this? You, alone?"
Noah made a face. "I won't be alone, I got the twins."
She pondered on her response, fighting against the frog swelling its way up her throat. Noah finished lacing up her other leg and tied another leather pouch to her waist before responding. "No. I was- I was banished four years ago. Thereabout. I don't keep track of da time so well anymore."
"Okay, not alone, just... without other people," Mickey murmured, internally cursing his mistake already. He knew better by now to imply that she was without company when she was without her animals. But that wasn't what he'd meant.
He pondered his response for a long time, too, wondering if there was any point to pressing this information out of her other than to sate his own curiosity. In the end, he decided there wasn't. He trusted her, even if her people hadn't. So he just hung his head a little ashamedly. "Soon, I'll be able to go with you. And start making up for all the supplies I've been using."
Noah shrugged lightly, "It's why we get 'em," she said with a naïve finality, "To use 'em."
She smiled then, leaning over his bedside to scratch Shiloh behind the ears and plant new seeds. She whinnied softly but curled up against him, brown eyes wide and knowing. "Some canned beans n' stuff ova there if you get hungry. I-I'll be back soon."
Without being conscious of it, Mickey pulled Shiloh closer to him, watching Noah go with the same expression of a wounded dog, and not even the one beside him. A quiet prayer trailed after her. "Stay safe."
And safe she stayed, as though his parting words were some kind of Micco blessing, protecting every footfall and hasty decision she made during her three day journey north. Usually she did not think about every action or reaction she took on scavenging trips. She entered every little dilapidated suburb she stumbled across without a care in the world, eager to find hidden treasures buried beneath the rubble of time. Now? Now she measured every footfall and every turn around a dark corner knowing there was someone to return to. Someone who needed her, even if he didn't want to need anyone.
The haul this round was low, save for one precious thing— stimpacks. A whole container filled with them at the bottom of some pantry, stuffed with cloth scraps that simply disintegrated when moved. The old part of her wanted to continue, to bring back as much as she could, but Noah crawled back home on the dawn of the third day. She nearly collapsed onto his chest when she got there too, as it didn't look like he was breathing.
"Gah! Don't be scarin' me like that!" Noah scolded, her eyes misty and antlers so lopsided it was a wonder they didn't fall off.
Mickey jolted awake, the weight on his chest startling him as he looked down, realizing it wasn't Shiloh, but Noah. Relief began to trade places with the adrenaline, and he leaned back down, draping his arm over her as his lips stretched into a smile. "Welcome back," He said assuringly, righting her antlers with his other hand. "What I'm hearing is that... I'm not a snorer. Pretty good, no?"
Woulda known you were alive if ya'd been snorin'.
Noah smiled and fell onto the furs beneath the bed, unlacing her boots and gathering the odd bits and ends she always weaved in. "Suppose so.
"Prolly gunna have to leave again soon though," Noah said rather sadly, tiredly, "Only found a can of beans and this. Made sure to hurry back with it."
Noah tugged out the small metal container filled with stimpacks and laid it gingerly on the bed, her smile sleepy and content. "Day or two, I think, then I'll go hunt."
Mickey watched her take out each odd and end with that same care she always did, and his gaze was filled with a quiet admiration. He liked the way she paid attention to all things small, and her ingenuity was something he'd never seen before. His smile bled away when she spoke sadly after that, his expression mirroring her displeasure for her findings. Not because he wasn't happy with the haul, but because she wasn't happy with herself.
"We could sell the stimpaks," Mickey offered, trying to encourage her. A can of stimpaks, while not edible, was worth more than a hundred cans of beans. "I don't need them anymore. And if you're going out again, I'm coming with you. I'm ready."
"No."
Noah softened the blow with a sleepy smile, curling up into the furs and stretching. She and the twins had traveled all night beneath the bleeding stars and it felt good to come home and sleep safely. Comfortably. Furs warmed by the fire, ears lulled by another's breathing.
"Ain't that I don't wantcha to but, yer still slow on that leg o' yers. And you still tweak to the left a bit. Back still hurts huh?" Noah frowned slightly as she continued, "Don't wanna sell the stims. I got chems aplenty I rarely use, bout the same price too."
Mickey winced. He'd seen it coming, obviously, and he also hated the fact that it impressed him. Her resolve, her stubbornness. But he was at the end of his rope, and tired of falling deeper into her debt. Not because he didn't want to be here. Because it drove him mad that she was going out, alone, dangerously, for him.
"Noah," Mickey began, knowing he'd have to try and monologue out of it. Did he already know her so well? "I'm always slow on the leg. I got by on my own for years. You need… to let me help you. And I'm helpful out there, I swear it." He also pointedly ignored the comment about his back. Something was always hurting him, it hadn't really been a factor that stopped him before. No, it was just a factor that nearly got you killed…
Mickey sat up, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm not letting you go out there alone for me anymore."
Noah giggled as she drifted off to sleep and would not remember the next few words out of her mouth when morning rose once more and she was roused from a comforting departure from consciousness.
"No? Then I'm goin' out there 'alone' for us. Shuttup 'bout it."
Heat came to his cheeks. Both of anger and of a heart that beat faster in the name of the word us. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "No, I won't shuttup 'bout it! I'm serious, I know how to navigate the wasteland and I did it years before I got myself sticked with a piece of rebar, alright, so next time we're going out together, and I--"
An egregiously loud snore came from the body atop him. One that, if Mickey hadn't known her for months already, he would have called fake. Unfortunately, this was not the case. Noah had been asleep for his entire protest.
His hand, which had been raised in gesticulation, fell atop her back again. And with a sigh, he wiggled around a little, to have her fall into the crevice of his arm and allow him to hold her head under his chin. "We're continuing this talk tomorrow," Mickey promised her sleeping form, but found his resolve disappearing as he gazed at her peaceful face nestled in his arms. He stared for a little while, marveling at the fact that he was holding someone. Holding her. How much it made his heart swell and how scary it was to care so much for her that it hurt. But he also marveled about how lovely she looked, how the moonlight adorning her face from the window made her eyelashes sparkle, and how perfectly she fit against him, like a puzzle piece he'd been missing all his life.
"...Alright." He whispered, allowing his eyes to droop closed, taking so much comfort in the fact that she was back beside him. "You win."
Two days came and went and Noah couldn't tell if saying goodbye was getting easier or harder. Shiloh curled up beside him when she started her lacing routine, weaving in bits of bone and rusted metal, an extra layer of protection against teeth and claw and the hazards of the wastes.
"A few days maybe," Noah said as her goodbye, waiting without it being too obvious for him to impart his good luck blessing. When she finally left, Noah traveled northwest, towards the tangled and irradiated coast. Beach towns were always the best to loot in her estimation, stocked up and out of the way and always full of life; be it creatures or raiders that wanted to take a bite out of you.
That was nearly four days ago and she was now ladened down with a fortune of goods. She had a whole pouch of holotapes (Personal log - 073, Protectron manual #3, Turret override program, turret override.exe, and Zeta Invaders: The Cosmos Strikes Back) that she would stash away for her baby sister, several different types of rations, nearly a handful of Jet that'd come in handy in a pinch or sell for a good price, and so much fresh meat she was worried she's attract the attention other scavengers.
She needn't worry though, two more fruitful days came and went and she was finally nearing her home. The last couple miles were the worst, walking on foot because both twins were strapped down with extra odds and ends: cotton candy bites, InstaMash, dandy boy apples, sugar bombs, melons, iguana bits, several radroach steaks, enough tatos to make a stew, mirelurk eggs and meat aplenty, and a few chunks of squirrel bits. She even found three Nuka Colas.
We're gunna die like Kings, me and him.
She chanted it on repeat. One leg after the other.
The chill had settled into the evening before Noah, nearly delirious with exhaustion, knocked on her own door to announce her arrival.
I'm back. Yer still alive right? Still here?