Cait couldn't remember the last time she was sober.

Maybe it was before she'd murdered her abusive parents. Yeah, it was probably before that.

She swung her legs in lazy arcs like a half-asleep toddler, leaning back on her hands to gaze at the sunset. What would normally be a beautiful watercolour of pinks and purples on a blue backdrop was now just a sickly yellow haze.

The apocalyptic nuclear fog hanging in the humid air was a depressing allegory to the sick haze in her brain. This was the perfect world for someone like her—broken and gnarled, destroying herself slowly instead of just ending it all in one go.

But Cait didn't really want to die. Did she?

She looked down at the jagged rocks hundreds of feet below the overpass and wondered why she'd come up here in the first place. She'd never been one to climb things for the sake of enjoying a view.

She thought hard. She remembered pounding whiskey with Deacon and then leaving him passed out in a booth. She remembered shooting up psycho for a tussle with a few super mutants. And she remembered bending over for one of the Minutemen visiting Diamond City... at least he'd lasted longer than his name implied.

But how had she gotten up onto this busted overpass, and why?

She sighed heavily, brushing her matted red locks off of her forehead as she glanced down at those deathly rocks below once again. They jutted up at her like busted teeth, the maw of hell ready and waiting beneath her. Because hell was most definitely where she would be going.

The smooth tone of hydraulics permeated the quiet air, and she closed her eyes, taking a deep whiff.

"There's nothing quite like the smell of power armour grease and testosterone," Cait drawled, and there was a low chuckle behind her.

"The aroma is... pungent," Paladin Danse replied, and she let her head fall completely back, looking at him upside down.

"What are ye doin' here, Soldier Boy?" she asked.

"When Deacon fell asleep on the job and you left a trail of dead super mutants in your wake, I thought I should check up on you," he replied, and hit the release for his armour. With a few clicks and metallic shings, it was open and he stepped out of it, clad in tight black shorts and a tank top.

"Look at ye, struttin' around half naked in the open," Cait teased.

A light blush crept up his cheeks but he approached her anyway, climbing up onto the wooden platform at the edge of the overpass. He sat down next to her, hanging his own legs over the side, and swung them in time with hers.

She giggled. "Think I would make it if I jumped in the armour?"

"Not my armour," he shook his head, attempting to sound conversational. But she could hear the trepidation in his voice. "Maybe an X-01 suit. You'd bust out the legs on this one."

"So I'd be alive but me legs would be broken, gotcha." Cait nodded, her Irish roots thick in her voice. She gazed at the sunset again, now a dim half bulb against the horizon.

"I'd rather not have to carry you home with broken legs," Danse said, following her gaze to the sun.

She barked a laugh. "Would be a feat to do so without your hydraulic muscles."

"Right, because you weigh more than ten pounds." He shot back, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I s'pose that's the only way ye could overpower me, if me legs were busted."

"I'd much rather carry you down off of this overpass with intact legs," he said.

Another gruff noise of amusement tore it's way out of Cait's throat. "Right, bridal style." She rolled her eyes. "Drugged up drunk bitch who's always lookin' for a fight... in a..." She jerked to the side and retched, heaving up what little was in her stomach.

"Oh Cait..." Danse sighed, and reached out to rub her back as she dry heaved, sputtering and moaning. Her too-thin body twisted in pain, her spine curling with each contraction of her stomach.

When it subsided, she collapsed, head lolling, done for the day.

He slipped his arms under her, scooping her up easily, and she curled into his chest. He'd bring her home and watch over her, passing off to Piper in the morning. Such was the way, everyone taking a shift, doing their part to make sure Cait woke up each morning.

She shivered and he sighed. "Why do you do this to yourself?" he murmured.

Her eyes fluttered gently, and she whispered, "I'm scared of changing."