January 11, 2296

Backing up

Sheila's Home Plate is home base for us. Diamond City is centrally located, has been my home for quite a while, and offers us some genuine privacy (unlike, say, the Castle). Both of us remember Fenway from back in the day, so there's the nostalgia factor. Home Plate is a sweet piece of real estate, and we've got it fixed up right nice. The woman and I even decided to move the agency to Home Plate and give the agency space to Ellie and Danny. Those two kids and their third on the way needed an actual home. They were officially living with Danny's dad, who barely had enough room for himself and Danny, but in reality, they were using the agency as their crashing pad, and I don't blame them. We gave it to them as a wedding gift, and their gratitude and relief were so embarrassing I felt we probably waited too long to make that move. Hugging Danny, Sheila said that she still owed him 50 caps from that day they met, and the two of them laughed. I've asked her about it three times, and each time, she manages to distract me without answering. Good thing I'm not investigating her.

Home Plate has so much space that we easily took the right side and recreated the agency setup there except with more room and three desks. Good thing McDonough's gone so he won't complain about the sign being moved to a more prominent locale. Sheila joked about Ellie's long commute, which of course necessitated a lengthy explanation to Ellie about what a commute was before the war. I think half the reason the woman loves me is that I understand her references.

When we're in town, we try to take in the sunset on the roof, smelling Power Noodles. Sometimes we talk about her plans for the Minutemen, sometimes we talk about my old cases, and sometimes we just talk about the same Nuka-Cola billboards. We have a couple of chairs next to each other and a radio to listen to Radio Freedom, or to Travis if it's too hazy… or if I think she hasn't gotten enough rest lately or worse, she's injured. If Freedom's on and they announce that someone's in trouble, I can't keep her from going. Best not to tempt her.

Some of the best moments I've had in the Commonwealth are there on top of Home Plate with just the two of us. I knew that's where I wanted to propose, the perfect balance of private conversations amid the center of activity. I planned the speech for days, throwing in two quotes from Poe as I struggled to put into words what she means to me.

I also made her an engagement ring of sorts. I knew the woman wouldn't want someone else's repurposed ring. She's too sensitive to dreams and lives lost from the war—and sometimes, just a little superstitious. Found what I think was a diamond in a case in a desk in a safe in Fallon's and set it into a hammered aluminum band. I made sure it was flush—she couldn't wear something that might get caught when she's fighting for her life, which happens once, twice a week minimum. So it's a simple aluminum ring, but there's a diamond deep set into it.

It was late in July, year before last (so 2294), when Sheila and I sat on the top of Home Plate at dusk. I dropped quietly out of my chair, got down on one knee, and looked up at her. It took her a moment to notice, and then she did a classic double-take. "Sweetheart, I have great faith in fools; self-confidence, my friends call it. So here goes nothin', or maybe everything. My favorite former icicle, got a question to ask you. All I've wanted was a life where I have something I can call my own, and then you pulled me outta that vault… and just being with you, I know I'm one hell of a lucky synth. You make the world better. You've given hope to the whole Commonwealth… but to nobody more than me. We love with a love that is more than love. Sheila, will you make me the happiest toaster in the world?" I held up the ring to her.

She gasped, which wasn't a good sign, but then she threw her arms around me and laughed, which was. "Of course, Nick. I love you! I love you." I managed to slip the ring on her finger, and she looked at it, her expression thoughtful. "I like it. And it's practical. I'm impressed you got the size right. My fingers are thick."

"First of all, doll, they're muscular because of your crazy lifestyle. Second, I'm a synth. I can calculate the width of your fingers. I've spent enough time with them." I grinned and wiggled what passes for my eyebrows at her and she rewarded that with a blush. "It's an aluminum band with a diamond. I made it because it's you—you're my diamond in the rough grey of the Commonwealth."

Yeah, I know it's sappy, but dammit, this was my engagement night. Maybe you had to be there to feel the full force of the emotion. There are so many details I want to cling to. I want to remember the setting sun reflected in her dark eyes when I looked up at her from one knee. I want to remember that she was wearing that pretty light blue dress that she sometimes wears on quiet days. She says that it's cooler than her usual outfits when we both know that she wears it because she knows I like it. I want to remember how I stunned her speechless with that line about the ring. I definitely want to remember how a little extra glassiness seeped into her eyes when she looked at me then, and she blinked a few times more than usually. She didn't cry, not exactly (she's only cried once in front of me), but I'd gotten to her. She cleared her throat. "I can't believe you used aluminum," she said, just a little waver in her voice. "I need to upgrade the left leg of my power armor and I need aluminum..." Her arms slid around my neck and pulled me close into a hug. My heart may have flipped a few times.

"Well, if you want, you can melt it down and use it. I won't mind—"

"Don't you dare say that," she whispered, pulling me tight enough that it would've hurt if I were human. I love it when she does that, like we're so close we might merge into one. After the woman cleared her throat, she pulled away. "How do you want to do this?" she asked. "Obviously there's no court system or justice of the peace… we could have Pastor Clements do it, but honestly, maybe this weekend, we could walk to the Castle. I think I'd like to have Preston—"

"I want to do it right," I said, cutting her off and delicately cupping her cheek with my metal fingers. "You don't know how much everyone loves you. We should have a ceremony at the Castle and a reception here, and you should have bridesmaids and the whole shebang. I remember planning a wedding… it's all about the bride." I kissed her cheek with as much gentleness as I could manage, grateful again for tactile sensors in my lips. How her skin stays soft with this life I don't know, but she is all woman.

"I didn't even do a big wedding before the war." She laughed, shaking her head. "But I'm not a first-time bride."

"You're not the same woman who got married before the war." Even I didn't know how right I was, but I knew that argument wouldn't work on this woman. "We're going to do it however you want, but I think you should give your friends a chance to weigh in. God knows the Commonwealth hasn't had much to celebrate since the war, but you've given them hope, and people know that. I suspect they'll surprise you and tell you that everyone could use a good old-fashioned party." See, I know her, and I know how to manipulate her. Ask her to do something for herself, and she never will. Ask her to do something for the Commonwealth, and no force in creation can hold her back.

Sure enough, she started to answer and stopped, looking thoughtful. "It can't hurt to ask a few people what they think. But tonight… *Tonight* I'm a newly engaged woman, and I'm going to enjoy the hell out of that. So come closer." Then she grabbed my tie to pull me closer, and I definitely have to remember that that was a good night. Someday, she's going to grow old and die, and all I'll have are these memories (at least, I hope I will). It will be unfathomably sweet pain.