Chapter 1: Paradise

There was nothing kind about the wasteland. Whipping winds, radiation storms, rain that didn't let up until you were soaked to your bones, not to mention the monstrosities that lurked in the shadows, waiting to rip any unsuspecting bastard to shreds. Raiders hopped up on chems covered the streets of Boston, and would shoot you on sight as soon as look at you, and that was if you were lucky. Compared to the wastes, the few secure settlements were paradise, but even they couldn't block out the revenge Mother Nature had taken on the ravaged Earth, and every poor soul unlucky enough to have been born paid the price.

It was more than that for her, being the sole survivor of a nuclear Armageddon. She remembered. Verity closed her eyes and listened to the rain hitting the dilapidated roof above her, thankful for small miracles as she huddled under a spot that was intact enough to keep her dry. The rain was always hard because if she listened long enough, she could almost imagine she was at home, sitting on the couch with a cup of tea in her hands, waiting patiently for her son to wake up from his afternoon nap, before she remembered she wasn't. This wasn't home. This was Hell.

The first few days out of the vault had just been one thing after another. As if witnessing the murder of her husband, kidnapping of her son, and the realization that the world had ended 200 years ago wasn't enough, she had been thrown headfirst into the fire as soon as she walked into Concord, her only weapon a scavenged 10mm pistol she'd taken off of the skeletal remains of a vault security officer. She hadn't had to shoot anything before that. The only real threat to her had come when one of those giant roaches in the vault had nipped at her knees before she could smash it with a baton, but as disgusting as the bugs were, they paled in comparison to the maniacs behind her. Verity figured she must have looked ridiculous, bug guts in her hair, being chased into Concord by switchblade-wielding psychos in nothing more than a pristine vault suit and brand-new boots, but apparently she seemed put-together enough to warrant immediate trust from the last standing Minuteman, who, after some yelling back and forth, let her take cover inside a ruined museum.

It had been a quick lesson in Wasteland morals and ethics when she joined the man, Preston Garvey, up on the balcony after some quick introductions and watched the people who'd been chasing her (he called them 'raiders') attempt to storm the building. Verity wasn't a good shot, by any stretch, and at first the killing made her feel sick, but under the circumstances, she thought she did well. Squeezing the trigger again and again, trying not to flinch at the sound. Mostly she'd done it to avoid going up to the roof to get the suit of power armor Garvey had suggested she use and still feel useful. It was stupid, really, but seeing the vertibird up there only made her think of Nate, and Shaun, and all the terrible things that seemed to have happened in the last 24 hours/210 years, and she was sure if she really started thinking about it all she would be good for would be an exhibit as the world's oldest crying heap.

Verity was knocked out of her comfort zone, however, when what she could only describe then as a monster emerged from the sewers. It looked like something out of an old horror flick, with horns and long, twisting claws on top of massive fingers and it was all she could do not to faint. But with a surge of courage, and some minor, slightly desperate encouragement from Garvey, she dashed through the ruined building to the roof, suddenly wishing it was Nate who had survived instead because she didn't know how to use anything and the monster roaming the streets, a deathclaw, Garvey called it, was going to eat her and their son would be alone.

After several attempts to rip the minigun from the downed bird on her own, Verity gave up and taking the fusion core reluctantly from her pocket, powered up the power armor. She had seen Nate do it once, a long time ago in Alaska, and she hoped that whatever muscle memory was left would do the trick. It did, and she climbed inside, wincing as the cold metal enveloped her.

Even in a suit that was as close to indestructible as it could get, Verity felt strangely vulnerable as she clumsily stomped over to the gun and pulled as hard as she could. After that it was only a matter of pulling the trigger and aiming in the vague direction of the beast from her perch on the roof. It took all her ammo and what seemed like hours of pure terror, but the deathclaw finally fell and she exited her armor to put six more shots from her 10mm in its head, just to be safe.

Garvey and the other settlers had seemed impressed with her performance, and invited her to join them at Sanctuary, and it was all she could do to accept their thanks before barreling down the road to the nearest trashcan and puking her guts up.

That had been ten days ago, and she had been terrified to leave the remains of her house since. Sanctuary had become anything but, all ruined by 200 years of decay and destruction, but it was still home, and truth be told Verity was afraid of seeing what the rest of the city had become. Garvey had tried to persuade her to come out on multiple occasions, and the dog, Dogmeat, had whined at her door, but to no avail.

Looking outside, she was suddenly aware she hadn't spoken to anybody in close to three days. She'd heard Garvey, of course, his boots crunching leaves as he walked to her doorstep and paced there for a moment before continuing on his rounds around the settlement. She almost wished he'd knocked today, because in a haze of alcohol and loneliness, she'd had a sudden glimpse of courage and decided finding Shaun was more important than dealing with the apocalypse or a new sense of suicidal ideation.

With that she made a decision and marched out into the rain and across the street to knock on the door of the other house. There was barking before Garvey answered, gun drawn, but lowered his weapon instantly and ushered her inside.

"Wow, I didn't think we'd be seeing you for a while," he said, leaning the laser musket against the splintered door frame.

"Oh?" she countered, trying her best to sound casual and not like she hadn't just broken her days of silence by barging in uninvited at two in the morning.

"Yeah, you just kind of disappeared there. We thought you wanted to be left alone."

She sighed, giving up the rouse. "Yeah, I just, uh, needed some time."

He still seemed unsure, but let it go. "Do you need anything?"

"Nope, just checking on everyone, you know, it's been a couple of days and-"

He cut her off. "It's okay if you're lonely," he said gently.

A lifetime ago she would have snapped at him, defended herself, told him that just because she was alone sure as shit didn't mean she was lonely, because for God's sake Nate would be home soon and it wasn't like she couldn't take care of herself. But instead she held back the denial and her tongue and nodded, slumping onto the flithy couch in the center of the room and idly patting Dogmeat on the head.

"Listen, everyone else is asleep but I'm going to take a watch if you're interested. You seem pretty handy with a pistol."

Verity smiled half-heartedly. "Sure, I guess it beats doing nothing."

They both walked out into the rain minutes later, Dogmeat trotting behind happily, down to the bridge into the neighborhood.

"I was thinking we should build some turrets over here," Garvey said.

She only nodded and they spent the rest of the night in relative silence, save for the couple of mole rats they'd had to shoot, though she could tell he was dying for her to tell him anything.

Verity had decided that her origin was a whole other subject she wasn't sure she wanted to breach. Aside from the few yes and no questions she had answered for the settlers initially, no one knew anything about her. She hadn't even told them her name. It was also difficult to think of a way to bring up her situation without sounding completely insane.

How would she even start that conversation? Oh hey guys, Sanctuary is nice, isn't it? By the way, I used to live here with my family but I've been frozen in a vault for the last 200 years and now I'm on the hunt for the psycho who shot my husband in cold blood and kidnapped my son. Weather's been just great, huh?

In the end, the awkward silence won out and she found herself talking before she could stop herself. "I used to live here."

Garvey looked surprised. "Really, I thought this place had been abandoned since the war?"

"Yeah well, it was before that."

Now he was really surprised. "You mean like, before, before?" he said carefully.

She nodded. "You were right about the vault."

"So what are you then, some kind of good-looking ghoul?"

It was her turn to be confused. "A what now?

"A ghoul, you know, people who were exposed to massive amounts of radiation- you know what, never mind. So you're over 200 years old?"

She smiled a little at how he tripped over his words. "Well I've been frozen for most of it, but yes."

"Wow, that's, uh, wow."

"Yeah."

There was a long pause before she spoke again. "I need to find my son," she said quietly.

"Any leads?" Garvey offered.

She looked down at her boots. "Not yet. But it's a big Commonwealth, there's got to be information out there."

He didn't answer, but instead looked at her in a way that made Verity think he was finally going to start asking questions.

"Speaking of which, I know you've got a lot on your plate, but I was wondering if you might be able to help me out," Garvey said.

She surprised herself when she didn't hesitate. "Sure, what is it?"

"I need to rebuild the minutemen. I want to make us great again, something the people can count on when they need it. But I've got to get these people set up here, I owe it to them after everything they've been through."

"And that's where I come in?"

"There's a settlement, a little east of here, they asked the Minutemen for help, but I don't want to leave Sanctuary defenseless-"

She cut him off. "So you want me to take care of it?"

"Pretty much, yeah. I can give you some more ammo and if you talk to Sturges maybe we can give your suit a little more protection, too. I know it's asking a lot, but it'd mean a lot to me."

"What about the rest of the Minutemen?"

Preston was silent, a somber look rolling across his dark features.

Oh. She thought about the body she'd taken a laser musket from in Concord.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I didn't realize."

Preston brushed it off. "Don't worry about it. I, uh, just don't really want to talk about it."

Verity dropped the subject. "I'll do it," she said, suddenly unsure of her own voice. What the hell did she know about combat? The likelihood that she'd die in a firefight was astronomical, which on second thought, was almost appealing. Well, I guess I can't exactly call my therapist.

Garvey didn't notice her turmoil and had a blissfully hopeful smile creeping across his face as they shook on it. "Well I'll be dammed."

Verity looked at him in confusion and then turned her attention to the sun, which was just starting to rise over the bridge.

What have I done?

Hey there! I don't really know what to start this AN with, but I used to be a really active writer on here and I missed it so here I am in Fallout 4 hell. I have no idea where this story is going, so please bear with me. I'll probably figure it out. Thanks for reading!