A.N.

Hi, everyone!

Nice to finally be able to find some time to write an author's note this chapter. So, I hope you're all enjoying your progress through the story this far as I've very much relished keeping up with chapter writing, haha! Alas, finals for me are this week and I'll be away on Christmas leave this coming week. If I'm lucky, I may end up finishing the next two chapters I have panned out while on the train. If not, then I'll most likely update within the next couple weeks prior to the start of the new term in January.

As always, I immensely enjoy reading reviews from all of you guys. Constructive criticism is welcome and I'd like to hear your opinions on my interpretations of character interactions, as well. I hope you all have a wonderful holiday break and I eagerly look forward to the next update. Happy reading!


Eyes were closed, though lights could be felt blaring down from all around. The surface seemed cold and metallic like the chill from a doctor's stethoscope on bare skin. However, the cool feeling she began to register beneath her back was a brief respite from the horrible spell of heat set in the room.

Streaks of sweat were racing down the slopes of her temple as Rebecca tossed and turned, willing herself to awaken from this state of discomfort. As her mind was dazing in and out of consciousness, she picked up the presence of two hushed voices in the room.

"..don't think she would be willing to cooperate…subject is prone to emotional outbursts," the first voice said, matter-of-factly.

The second voice responded. "…won't be much choice. We have leverage with the boy… do as she's programmed to do…"

Rebecca supposed she must be hallucinating. She was only getting bits and pieces out of the conversation, but it was unnerving her. They mentioned a boy. Were these the bastards who had Shaun? She now felt a primal desperation to get to the bottom of where she was and what was going on as her body started to stir out of the drug-induced slumber.

"Wait, I think she's waking up. Go fetch the subject's agent, now," the first voice commanded. Judging by the pitch, it was a female.

Rebecca's lashes fluttered open. As she peered around, she found herself in a strongly secured room, floor to ceiling was sealed by titanium-steel alloy. There was a table two meters away scattered with stimpaks, a set of glass test tubes, syringes, and open files with photos of people she couldn't recognize from her current distance. Her slightly distorted gaze trailed to her lower body and she observed her joints at the wrists, knees, and ankles were bound by medical tape, ensuring she remain locked to the gurney she was lying upon. Based on how well preserved all of the resources and material in the room was kept, she assumed this facility was underground.

So, this is the infamous Institute? More or less predictable. Especially with how they necessitated her kidnapping in order to make an appearance. Though after all the trouble she stirred up with numerous groups to find her son, it wasn't at all surprising.

"Ah, you're finally registering. Good," the female voice said.

Rebecca jerked her neck toward the sound of the woman's voice. What the hell did she mean by 'registering'?

As her vision began to focus, she observed the woman addressing her had dark hair that was pinned back in a seamless bun and was dressed in an otherwise ordinarily lab coat aside from the strange insignia that she bore upon the chest pocket piece. The woman smiled down at her, but Rebecca was in no mood to entertain rhetoric with the likes of these people. She wanted answers for what they'd done to her and she wanted them now.

She struggled against her binds. "Where the hell am I," Rebecca grunted in between exertions to loosen the restraints. "..and what have you done with my son?"

The lab assistant spared another small smile that made her skin crawl. "Relax now, Subject 111. There's no need to fret."

Rebecca couldn't understand why these strange people kept referring to her as a 'subject' and what the mention of 'programming' was about. They were speaking to her as if she were some sort of machine. This only further amplified her urge to get Shaun back from these petri dish probing amateurs.

"You bastards," she snarled at the woman in white. "Give me back my son. Give me Shaun or so help me, I'll make your lives a living hell!"

The woman merely chuckled, mocking the mother's plight. "Oh? What do you expect you'll do to me from your restraints, dear," she questioned condescendingly.

Rebecca furrowed her eyebrows as the woman in white continued. "Even if you were free from your bonds, what would you truly expect to accomplish? This is a fully functional and fortified facility miles underground," she chided, unabatedly.

The woman pursed her lips. "Your purpose is to fulfill our orders, nothing more," she stated curtly. "As a matter of fact, that little obstinate streak to want to defy your command is what landed you here now, Subject 111. It will require... tweaking."

Rebecca ignored the woman's chastising remarks as she barred her teeth. "I'll die before I give up trying to get to my boy," her eyes deadly as she challenged the woman's passive-aggressive antics. "And why the hell do you keep referring to me as a subject? I'm a goddamn human being, so how about you start talking to me like one!"

"Oh, let's not become vulgar. After all, it won't really work in your favor to be so rude now, will it? I don't think you're fully aware of the gravity of the situation you're in presently, much less your own self-awareness at this point." Although the woman was grinning at her, there was no trace of sincerity in the smile that offered little more than cold indifference.

Suddenly, as if on cue, the woman gestured toward the room's one exit. Another lab assistant had emerged and was guiding a young boy no older than his tweens toward her.

Rebecca felt as if her eyeballs were going to pop from their sockets. She couldn't believe it. There stood her son, healthy and unharmed. Though she hadn't had the chance to be with him over these last ten years, he looked unchanged from when she last witnessed his growth in the remaining vestiges of Kellogg's memories.

"Sh-Shaun? Is it really you," Rebecca asked, uncertainty and relief washing over her. She reached out a trepidatious hand to cup his face in a long-since absent gesture of motherly affection.

Tears welled up in her cerulean irises as her lips creased into rueful smile. "I'm-I'm so sorry," she apologized as her voice began to break. "For all that you've been put through, my darling." Rebecca stared directly into the child's eyes that mirrored her own. "I'm your mama, Shaun."

Shaun didn't respond to her, but instead looked up at the male assistant that had ushered him in. "What is Subject 111 talking about, sir?" The boy's question was mechanical, without any emotion.

To hear her own son say that cut deeper than any bullet she had taken in the Wasteland. Was this some sort of sick joke?

The male assistant patted the boy's shoulder. "It's alright, Subject CM-111-3. Resume non-duty rest mode."

Shaun nodded his head. "Affirmative, sir." As soon as he'd finished, the boy's body slumped slightly forward and his face now bore a vacant expression as the machine's system functions went offline.

Rebecca's nostrils flared as she narrowed her eyes toward the woman again. "What the fuck is this?! That is not my son! What have you done with my boy, you twisted psychopaths," she shrieked. Though she had since relented in her struggles to break free of her bonds, Rebecca had leaned away from hollow eyes as she wept.

"You will learn just as all of the other synths here have, Subject 111, that dereliction from your assigned programming is unacceptable. Punishment is in order for subjects who fail to obey," the woman stated callously.

Almost immediately, Rebecca felt herself go numb at the arms and legs as her body began to feel like a husk, weighing down any chance for freedom she could have scrounged. The only part of her now lifeless vessel that she could move was her head as she shifted her neck toward the two assistants.

"Why," her voice cracked out. Rebecca could only muster the strength for a few more words. "Why have you done this to me?"

There was that cold, calculating smile of hers again as the woman gazed down at Rebecca's limp form. "You had the most potential out of all of them. However, strangely enough, you've conceived this idea of freedom from the Institute." Then, the woman leaned in close enough for her cheek to brush up against Rebecca's ear. "But there is no escape from us. We will always find you."

Rebecca shot up from her mattress with a jolt. Loose tendrils of her auburn hair clung to her forehead, sticky with sweat that was still trickling down her brow. Heavily panting, she took a critical glance around the vicinity of the darkened room that was the third floor of the halfway house. Several residents that were lodging here still seemed to be sound asleep in their beds. There was a brief ray of light beginning to break through the gaps in the roof as the dawn signaled the welcoming of a new day. A new day that ensured Rebecca she was not a synth captured by the Institute and that she still had a fighting chance to chase down whoever held Shaun.

As her erratic breathing had simmered down, Rebecca wiped a loose sleeve from her ragged gown over her face and slouched herself against a metallic sheet of wall, hugging her legs to her chest. She had severe doubts about her capabilities as a mother if she was still encountering difficulties tracking down her son after so many months had passed since his capture.

How was she supposed to trek the far extent of the Glowing Sea? She had already attempted once to scale its depths and had nearly gotten ravaged to pieces by a pack of Deathclaws that were waiting suspiciously behind a raised slope of desert rock. She'd hammered their alpha leader with as much firepower as she could muster from behind the hardy exterior of her Power Armor that the Brotherhood had granted after her promotion to Knight stance, but the abominations proved their resistance in this unforgiving cesspit and Rebecca was forced to flee.

Though Paladin Danse had been more than thrilled to welcome her into their ranks, Elder Maxson and Captain Kells among others seemed reluctant to bring her into the flock. She knew she wasn't cut out for military ordinance.

Before the bombs landed, she was head of her own firm and she executed legal verdicts in a fair, but just manner. Rebecca hadn't been a fan of the Brotherhood's contradictory policy that sought to eliminate secret organizations like the Institute whose synths targeted innocent bystanders on sight, but didn't take responsibility for soldiers' occasional friendly fire that would result in civilian casualties. They did have a mutual understanding as far as helping each other out until it no longer worked to serve the convenience. This wasn't a personal policy that she was accustomed to living until she first saw the raw, savage nature of the Commonwealth at its worst. If you didn't look after your own back, it was a kill or be killed agenda and the latter wasn't really an option for her, considering what was at stake.

There was no question that she needed help. Though it couldn't be sought from the Brotherhood. Whatever was awaiting her at the edge of the Glowing Sea would certainly be pumped full of lead in mere seconds if she was to have a Knight or even an Initiate from the Brotherhood accompany her. It was shoot first, ask questions later for them. That kind of attitude wouldn't do, particularly if her child was involved.

No, she needed someone whose health wouldn't be in jeopardy by the simple crossing into the lethal plane of radiation and the gang of hostile, rabid creatures that survived in its depths. It's not as if there were Power Armor suits raining down from the heavens and the Brotherhood of Steel wasn't keen enough on her own mission to provide a spare. She required help from someone who was objective in their handling of flammable political matters and that she trusted implicitly.

Despite the fact that the sun had barely broken over the horizon, Rebecca would not allow herself to try and sleep further even if her body was still exhausted from the vivid nightmares. She pushed herself off of the mattress and began stuffing her survival pack full of Stimpaks, Nuka-Cola, Rad-Away, and other aids that would keep her alive in what she foresaw to be the next few weeks worth of Wasteland wanderings. After slipping on a pair of clean army fatigues, adjusting some upgraded protective leather padding and effortlessly fastening a sturdy plated chest piece to her upper body, Rebecca grabbed her bag, some various small guns and a loaded scoped hunting rifle, and bolted down the set of stairs.

As soon as she was out of the house, she glanced down both directions of the old road, one that led toward the far side of Sanctuary and the other that traced into the extensive wilderness that was the untamed Commonwealth.

Rebecca hadn't seen any trace of Hancock since he departed, following the incident at the nearby Red Rocket truck stop. It was assumed that he left the town at some point shortly after he bid her goodnight at the door yesterday evening. She had decided to go traipsing through the streets for hours, mere minutes after he had left, in search of him. In the end, Rebecca was so drained from scouring the neighborhood for any sight of him that she had returned to the halfway house and collapsed on to the only unoccupied bed there was left on the third floor.

It didn't feel right to her, leaving off on this type of awkward note. Even if she had been evading her true feelings for how desperately she just wanted to launch herself into his soothing embrace again. Just so she could experience that rare moment of comfort and protection away from the vile horrors of this world that served as a product of humanity's fear and lust for power. She hadn't forgotten the feeling of his warm breath upon her chin or his gnarled fingers tracing lines lovingly across her cheeks as he framed her face with his hands. Rebecca didn't expect a ghoul to have such soft hands with how pruned most of his kind looked as a result of extreme rad exposure. Albeit their misshapen and slightly lumpy form on the tops of his palms, the undersides of his hands felt incredibly smooth as Hancock had so delicately held her face in them. She had felt so vulnerable at the time, not understanding when they had become progressively less cordial and more physically familiar with each passing over the last several weeks they'd spent making improvements in town.

On several occasions, it seemed as if he had intentionally planned to cross paths with her on his way to grab more supplies for various projects. Hancock would strut right past her with a simple greeting along the lines of, "Hey there, doll", tip his hat politely to her and their hands would brush. It had been brief and innocent for all intents and purposes but each time this happened, Rebecca had turned away, blushing madly.

Ironically, he appeared so much happier fixing up houses here than the last days he had remained in Goodneighbor as mayor. He seemed… absolute, if that was even possible. Especially when compared to the free-for-all, anarchy-based lifestyle that he had settled so many years for. It was like he could be himself without the restrictions of duty, even if he was performing back-breaking labor to get some of the more low-functioning properties in shape.

In any case, he was long gone now and though Rebecca felt a pang of sadness course through her heart for his decision to leave, she knew that she couldn't face him. Not yet.

The most important objective in her life had taken a place on the burner for far too long. Now that Rebecca had a solution to her dilemma, she wasn't about to allow the opportunity to find her son slip away from her again. Pulling the strap of her survival pack tightly over her shoulder, Rebecca turned toward the bridge and began to follow her Pip-Boy map southeast, toward Diamond City.

There is one man that I know who could help me, provided he isn't too caught up with rescuing rebellious daughters from the arms of their Raider boyfriends.