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I'm Living Right Next Door to An Angel

Do-do-do-dowop-wop bop oh do-wop she dow-down! Do-wop wop bop, oh do-wop she dow-down!

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Preston thought his grave was in Concord.

After all, he already failed in his mission as a minute man. The Quincy Massacre left him feeling only betrayal as he fled with only a handful of survivors. And now, only a month later, there were only five of them left as they barricaded themselves in the ruins of the Museum of Freedom as raiders gunned through their measly defenses every minute.

There was nowhere left to run, nowhere left to hide. They were backed into a corner, and Preston couldn’t help but notice the irony of the last good minute man dying in the ruined halls honoring the liberty of a once proud democracy.

But he was sure of one thing: if he was going to die, he would be the first to fall if it meant protecting the remaining survivors he led.

With each blast of his laser musket, Preston felt himself losing his strength. Endless days of travel and fighting were taking its toll, and it took all his focus to keep himself glued onto that balcony as he fired shot after shot at each wave of raiders. No thoughts passed through his head except for one single plea–a prayer for some sort of miracle to somehow get them out of this.

He never expected his prayers would be answered in the form of a woman in a blue and yellow jumpsuit, with a plucky German Shepard in tow.

In what seemed like an instant, the desolate streets of Concord stood silent once more as each raider fell dead to the ground. The silence was too quick to even fathom, but Preston didn’t care. He didn’t even think of whether this woman wanted to pillage him herself before he asked for her help. Fortunately, putting faith in her was the right way to go, as she was, indeed, the miracle he was praying for.

And in the midst of chaos and carnage, he watched as she bravely put on that rusted steel suit of power armor, unleashing a barrage of bullets to the remaining army of raiders. Even in the face of a deathclaw, who was attracted to the noise, she never wavered. Using her quick thinking, Preston saw her lure the horrid creature to an old atomic-powered car, shooting at it just enough times to trigger a mighty explosion.

Time seemed to slow for only a moment, but it was enough. For in that haze of smoke and ash, Preston saw only an angel battling with righteous fury.

And once the battle was over, it was that very same angel who led them to Sanctuary, an old pre-war neighborhood Mama Murphy had foreseen. Passing the rusted sign that read “Sanctuary,” Preston wasn’t expecting Mama Murphy’s prediction to be so literal, but he wasn’t complaining either.

Nor did he miss how fitting it was that this ‘angel’ actually came from Sanctuary, albeit 210 years ago. Preston wasn’t sure if he truly believed in God, but this moment had too many coincidental signs for him to not say a silent ‘thank you’ for saving his neck yet again. Because this woman restored the last shred of faith in humanity for him, rekindling a fire of hope that the Minute Men can still protect the people of the Commonwealth in order to make it a better place.

And because only she had the power to restore his faith, he offered her the position of General of the Minute Men. Being the last minute man had its perks, and she will never know the insurmountable relief he felt when she said ‘yes.’

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. Through it all, Preston stayed by her side, witnessing her help each and every settlement that came their way. It wasn’t just her bravery that stunned him–it was her kindness and philanthropy. For each settlement they helped, it was never just a pass-through mission. Instead, after neutralizing a threat, she stayed to rebuild infrastructure. He saw her plant crops, install irrigation systems, even assign guards and defense programming, to ensure that those settlers would be made better by the presence of the Minute Men. And with each passing day spent by her side, Preston found a new reason to keep on living.

He just never expected that such kindness would one day be bestowed upon him.

“You what?” Preston said, disbelieving.

“A house!” She said, smiling as if it were the most logical thing in the world. “Preston, you’ve done so much in helping me adjust to life in the Commonwealth, and you’ve spent a lot of time in making Sanctuary a safe place to live in. You deserve a place of your own to call home, a place to just kick back and relax.”

“I don’t know if I’ve ever relaxed a day in my life,” he said, chuckling. He looked at the house she presented him with. It was an old, yellow home that miraculously stayed standing two centuries after the bombs fell. Some of the rotted walls were replaced with mismatching wood panels, along with a new wooden roof to keep the radioactive rain away. She even had Sturges install glass into the window panes. As he continued staring at each renovation to this ancient relic, she walked up to the white wooden door she herself installed. His body moved before he could even think about it, instinctively following her as she swung the door open.

Preston has never actually owned a house before. The closest he got to a space to call his own was his bunk within the Quincy barracks. A barrack he shared with the rest of Colonel Hollis’ company. But this? This was too much for him to process.

The front door had a little faded mat that still had the words ‘welcome’ written across it in fancy cursive. Stepping over the mat, Preston saw that the house had been swept from all the leaves and debris from nuclear fallout, revealing floors that were clean enough for habitation. He saw a long red couch with a matching armchair that looked plush despite its age, with a long coffee table in the middle that had a radio softly playing music. The wall within this space had a makeshift Minute Men flag hanging proudly upon it, just above an empty shelf waiting to be filled. The long couch sat directly below the window with the armchair directly across from it. Next to the armchair was a small table with a blue lamp that was mostly for show and a faded book.

To his left was what he could only imagine was as close to a ‘kitchen’ one could get. There was a wooden table next to a broken fridge that was converted into a makeshift cupboard. Above the table was a couple of shelves that contained a box of sugarbombs, blam-co mac & cheese, and a bottle of aged whiskey next to a couple of salvaged glasses. In the center of this space was a modest dining table with four chairs on each side.

“The fridge is mainly for show, but now that we have an electrical system, I’m having Sturges see if he can figure out how to generate enough power to each house so that we can actually preserve food in these old fridges,” she said, a bit sheepishly. “But I put some soup from last night’s potluck in there, along with a few bottles of nuke cola since I know you like to have it here and there.” She gave him a wink that sent butterflies his way as she led him into a hallway.

She showed him a very modest bathroom that contained a bathtub, a bucket for heating warm water, and a cabinet that contained a couple stimpacks, rad-x, and radaway. But in the next room, she paused.

“This room is probably my favorite,” She began. “I spent a lot of time on it to make sure it was just right.”

She stepped aside so that Preston could fully take the room in. There in front of his eyes was a bed with a metal frame, a couple of hand-sewn blankets, and a pillow so clean that Preston had to take a moment to register just how bright the color white can be. At the foot of his bed was a metal, military-green box for storage. Next to the bed was another small wooden table with a decorative lamp, and across the room was a small writing desk and chair. Next to the desk with a wooden dresser with a flower vase and a painting of a lake hanging above it. His laser musket stood next to the dresser seeming at ease. So that’s where it went, he thought to himself, remembering just how frantically he was looking for it earlier this morning.

Now standing in the room, he touched the too-clean pillow. It felt so soft and plush in his hands, and Preston couldn’t help but wonder how good his sleep was about to be tonight.

“Well?” He heard her say, her soft voice cutting through the domestic silence. “What do you think?”

Preston turned to her and saw her eyes twinkle with mirth, the slight creases next to them signaling joy as she flashing him a warm, closed-lipped smile. The afternoon light coming from the window behind him shone delicately on her hair, as if illuminating the warmth coming from her in this very moment. That same warmth was filling his chest even now, for no one in his life has ever bestowed him such kindness.

“I love it,” he said after a beat, never taking his eyes off of her. Her smile deepened as she leaned upon the doorframe. God, she looks like an angel.

An angel I am now living right next door to, he thought, as he tried to fight the blush that was quickly forming on his dark cheeks. He turned his face down to the floor for a moment, hoping his broad hat would save him from embarrassment as he followed her back to the main room of the house–no, his house–to discuss the plans for the rest of the day.

Throughout the next few days, Preston felt a new sense of ease wash over him. There was something about having his own home that made him feel like he was worth something, and he only had this angel to thank.

A new routine started to develop too. Every morning, just as he left through his door, she would do the same right across the street from him. She would smile and wave, saying a quick ‘good morning,’ while he returned it in kind. Then, they would walk in separate directions–him making his rounds while whistling a tune while she would go off to help construct a new piece of infrastructure. Then, by nightfall, both would return back to their respective doorways, each waving a simple ‘good night’ before turning into their separate houses for bed.

It was as close to a domestic lifestyle Preston could get. It was pure bliss, and Preston couldn’t help but notice how a fondness for her began to settle in his heart. It was selfish of him to think this way, but a part of him wanted this routine to stay forever.

And so, when his ang–no, General, told him that she had to leave for Diamond City, he was almost too stunned to speak.

“Are you sure?” Preston said, after a moment. “I really don’t mind following you to Diamond City. I know you are more than capable of protecting yourself, but–”

“Preston,” She softly but firmly cut him off. “I’ll be fine. But I need you here. You are the only person I trust to ensure that Sanctuary is safe, along with any of the other nearby settlements. You’re my right-hand after all.”

Preston said nothing because he knew it was true. He was there by her side not just in the fight, but in the meticulous planning and construction of each and every settlement that was under Minute Men protection. And although Sanctuary was living up to its name with each passing day, there was still plenty more work to be done.

“Besides,” She continued, stopping his reverie for a moment by placing her hand on his bicep. “I have to do this. Shaun is out there, Preston. You heard Mama Murphy say so! I have spent four months trying to get my bearings, figuring out how to survive in the Commonwealth. And you helped me do that. But now, I need to go find my son.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, focusing solely on her warm hand lightly pressing into his bicep. He couldn’t deny the truth. In name, she is a general, but in reality, she is a widowed mother looking for her son. He nodded his head, lifting to meet her eyes piercing right back at him. That expression pulled at his heart.

“Of course,” he said, shooting a teasing smirk at her. “But you’re taking either Dogmeat or Codsworth with you.”

She laughed, the sound ringing in his ears. “Sure, if it’ll make you feel better. I think I’ll take Codsworth this time around, Dogmeat will keep you plenty of company while I’m gone.”

She pulled her hand away only briefly before clasping his forearm as he returned the gesture wholeheartedly. They needed no words between them to understand what was being said.

It only lasted for a second before Preston broke the silence. “Stay safe, General.” She smiled in kind. “Likewise, Preston.” She slid her hand away as she walked out the gates of Sanctuary Hills, Preston’s eyes watching as his angel disappeared into the horizon.

Ain’t it strange how she changed into such a lovely angel?

It was three weeks until he saw her again. Preston tried to remain cool. He once heard that ‘distance makes the heart grow fonder,’ and he didn’t believe it until now.

Every day, he couldn’t help but glance at the window across the street. At night, he sat in his armchair with that perfect view of her doorway, picturing her waving at him while at her stoop. He would say a soft ‘good night’ at that imaginary view of her, listening to the radio before turning in for bed.

But each night, as more thoughts of her swirled into his head, he couldn’t help but think of how selfish he was. He can’t deny it anymore, he is in love with his General. He tried to think of when it started. Was it when she saved his life in Concord? Or was it when they fought off those ghouls over in Sunshine Tradings Co-Op? He stopped himself when he looked at the flag she had hung on the wall in his living room. No, it was when she gave him this house, the one place that was truly his and his alone. And yet, how selfish he is to think that even that wasn’t enough.

Her presence is everywhere in this house. From the cleaned up debris to the little decorative touches of comfort, Preston felt that even that wasn’t enough. He looked at the empty couch across from him, picturing her there laughing how they usually do, her house across the street haunting him through his windows. He missed his angel.

But even this longing made him feel guilty. How dare he allow himself to even wish for a moment that she had stayed with him instead of going to find her missing baby boy. How dare he even pine after a woman whose husband is buried in the cold depths of a frozen vault located right outside their Sanctuary. Despite the fact that he couldn’t control these thoughts, it still made him feel like a devil for even thinking them.

So when he saw her again, he couldn’t help the way his heart leapt into his chest at the sight of her.

He had just finished a meeting with Sturges. Sanctuary finally had a proper wall around its perimeter and they had just finished establishing a new trade route with Abernathy Farm. Walking off from the ‘town hall’-- a makeshift shack at the end of the cul de sac–Preston made his way throughout the neighborhood, happy that the once abandoned pre-war neighborhood is turning into a prosperous settlement that could one day even envy Diamond City.

The streets were now cleaned of any remaining debris and rubble as street lamps lit the sidewalks. Entering his home, he opened the fridge, feeling a soft chill as he grabbed a cold nuka cola. While she was away, Preston made sure her dream of working fridges would come true, and after taking that first sip of ice-cold nuka cola, he could see what all the hype was about.

He was just about to sit in his armchair, as a cutesy little de-wop song played softly on his radio. It was a song about an angel, and boy, did it make him think of his angel. Just then, as he glanced at the window across the street, he had to do a double take. There he saw his angel returning home, Codsworth in tow, and the sight of her was almost as beautiful as the day he first met her in Concord. Preston could not see or hear anything else but her as the song coming from his radio spoke the words he buried deep inside his heart:

Saw her walking down Main Street, and I couldn’t believe my eyes.

It used to be such a plain street, but now it’s paradise!

There she was in all her angelic glory. But Preston didn’t see her walk to her house. Instead, Codsworth went to her home while she disappeared for a moment. He didn’t even have the time to register his confusion when he heard a soft knock on his door. Jolting from his armchair, he scrambled to the door, opening it in a flurry and finding her there on his stoop.

She was standing on his ‘welcome’ mat, looking tired and weary. And alone.

“General!” He said, slightly surprised. “You’re back! But, where’s–”

She cut him off by flinging her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace. He was stunned into silence. He felt her bury her face into the crook of his neck, and after a few seconds registering what was happening, he wrapped his arms around her, sealing the embrace she clearly needed, and perhaps he did too.

After a moment, she whispered in his ear. “I can explain, but to sum it all up, I didn’t find him,” She said. “He’s still out there, Preston. But it’s way bigger than I thought it was gonna be.”

“I see,” Preston said. He nodded once, feeling the sadness emanating from her at this news. He brought a hand to her hair, soothing her as she pressed closer to him. He wondered if she could hear the way his heart was hammering in his chest.

But there was a lingering questioning he had to ask. “But, if that’s the case, why come back here? Do you need supplies or more ammo? I can check the storage area for you to see if there’s–”

“No,” She said with a slight chuckle at how quickly he was willing to help her. “No, I came back because I needed you, Preston.” She pulled back from their embrace just enough to look up at him with pleading eyes that bore right into his soul. She said it so quietly that he almost didn’t believe she said it. “I missed you,” she said, looking quickly at his lips before staring directly into his eyes.

He stared back at her, eyes wide with pleasant surprise. It was almost too much to be true, and the only thing keeping him tethered to reality was the way her arms were wrapped so snugly around his neck, as if they belonged there. In fact, they were so close, he could hear the same song from his radio echoing on her pip boy right below his ears.

I feel so happy, I’m feelin’ so good!

I’m the luckiest devil in the neighborhood!

I’m livin’ right next door to an angel,

And I’m gonna make that angel mine!

A slow smile bloomed across his lips as he settled into the feeling of her looking up at him with the same longing he had for her in her absence. She was outlined by the haze of her house across the street, along with the faint glow of the street lights. She looked positively angelic.

There was no rush from either person to ruin this tender moment. It was Preston who moved first, moving down just enough to whisper into her ear. “Would you like to come in?” He said, his breath lightly tickling her cheek.

He felt her smile beside him. “Gladly,” she said, slowly untangling her hands from his neck, wrapping them around his bicep instead.

He pushes the door open with his free hand and gently leads her inside as she softly pushes it closed behind them. From the windows, the two sit on Preston’s long, red couch as their heads touch, leaning into each other as they spend the entire night chatting away.

They will find a way to get her son back, come hell or high water. But for now, in this sacred, soft night, all Preston could think of was how he is living right next door to an angel, and now, that angel is his.

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I first heard the song "Next Door to an Angel" by Neil Sedaka from the Old Gold Radio mod, and since then, I have always thought of Preston when I hear it, which inspired this fic. Because I wanted this out sooner rather than later, I did not proof-read this but I hope you enjoy!

Thank you for reading it, and a quick shoutout to all the Preston Garvey lovers out there who pushed me to finally write it: @falloutwrangler111 @perception-bobblehead @00101ca0 @fixations-101 @fanfeline @softgothvibes @gardening--tools @panintegral002 @ezekiel13 @psychadelic-fool @the-unspeakable-tsar @frostwhy

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