As Edie and Jeremiah made their way through the dense forest, the towering trees parted to reveal the remnants of a once-beautiful structure—a church, standing weathered but tall against the horizon. Its steeple, bent and rusted, still stood defiantly against the sky, though much of the roof had collapsed. The stone walls were cracked, and vines crawled up the bell tower, but somehow, the place still held an aura of peace. The stained-glass windows, though shattered, caught the sunlight in fractured colors, casting faint rainbows on the ground.
"Gosh," Edie whispered as they approached, her wide, dark eyes taking in the scene. "I can’t believe it’s still standing."
Jeremiah's sharp eyes scanned the old church, then glanced back at her, his expression thoughtful. “It's a miracle, considerin' how much everythin' else got leveled."
They entered cautiously, pushing open the creaky wooden doors. Stepping inside, their footsteps echoed loudly in the empty space. Dust particles floated lazily in the streams of light coming through the broken windows, and the pews were cracked and decaying, but the altar stood as it had for generations. The once-pristine white cloth that draped over it was now yellowed and frayed. It was easy to imagine how this place once looked—filled with people, vibrant and alive. People in their Sunday best, the smell of fresh flowers in the air, the sound of a church bell echoing through a peaceful neighborhood.
Edie wandered toward the front, her fingers grazing the surface of the altar. Smiling softly, she spoke. “Do you ever wonder… what it would’ve been like? You know, if the world hadn’t gone to...” She trailed off.
Jeremiah leaned against a pew, folding his arms as he watched her. His expression was hard to read as he gazed at her through the wide brim of his hat. "All the time, darlin'."
Edie smiled wistfully, her eyes drifting over the ruins of what once represented hope and unity. "I used to dream about things like this. About the old American dream. A home, a family… a white picket fence." She chuckled softly at the thought, shaking her head feeling a bit silly. "I bet, in pre-war America, we'd be living in a cozy little house. Maybe you'd be working some respectable office job, and I’d run a shop or something. We'd come home to each other at the end of the day. No super mutants. No raiders. Just peace."
Jeremiah's lip quirked upward at the image she painted, though there was the smallest touch of woe in his eyes. There definitely was a pang in his heart. “Yeah, I can see that. You’d have your garden," he paused, lost in thought. "We’d probably argue about which flowers to plant. I’d pretend I didn’t care...but I’d secretly want 'em all to bloom perfectly for ya.”
Edie laughed, the sound echoing gently in the empty church like ringing bells. "And what about the wedding, big guy?" she asked, turning to face him, her expression playful. "Would we have gotten married in a place like this?"
Jeremiah shifted, looking around the decaying structure. He could almost see it—Edie walking down the aisle, her dark hair swept up in curls, wearing a lacy dress. Looking like a dream. He scratched the back of his neck, a rare sign of vulnerability. His voice was low and thoughtful. "I guess we would've," he said quietly. "You in a white dress, lookin' so damn beautiful it’d probably knock me speechless."
Edie's cheeks flushed slightly, and she gave him another gentle smile. He always knew how to fluster her. "Gosh. And you'd wear a suit? Not your cowboy hat?"
Jeremiah chuckled, shaking his head. “I think for you, I could skip the hat for a day. Wear a suit, maybe even a tie.”
She beamed at the image, the idea of Jeremiah in a suit both foreign and oddly endearing. She could picture him uncomfortably plucking at a bowtie around his neck. “It’s hard to imagine you all dressed up. Trying to act all serious," she teased. "But deep down, you'd be nervous as heck!"
Jeremiah was tickled at the thought. "Nervous? Yeah, probably." He walked up to her, his scuffed boots lightly tapping against the worn floor. "But I woulda married you in a heartbeat, darlin'. Pre-war, post-war—it don’t matter."
The weight of his words hung between them for a moment, the echoes of a life they’d never live. The current feelings of adoration (and something much stronger) Jeremiah held for his traveling companion.
Edie stepped closer, her hand reaching out to his, their fingers interlocking naturally. She felt comforted by the leather of his gloves against her bare fingers. "Maybe it wouldn't have been perfect," she mused, "but we would have made it something special. You and me. A home, a dog in the yard, maybe even a couple of kids."
Jeremiah’s gaze softened at her words, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah. The American dream." He paused, light eyes searching hers. “And I’d protect that dream. With everythin' I have.”
Edie’s smile faltered slightly, a bittersweet understanding passing between them. “You already do.”
They stood there in the abandoned church, wrapped in the quiet of what could have been. The Wasteland, with all its dangers and uncertainties, lay just outside, but for a moment, they could pretend they were in that pre-war world, where love, hope, and the American dream still thrived.
Jeremiah pulled her into his strong arms, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Even if we never get that picket fence, Edie," he whispered, "we’ll still make somethin' of this world."
Edie looked up at him, her heart full. “Yeah. Together.”
They imagined a life that might have been—a wedding, a house, and a future untouched by the destruction of the world. But as they turned to leave, walking side by side out of the old church, they knew that the life they had built together, against all odds, was just as precious. Perhaps more so.