Morgan zapped into the Institute relay room, a gust of cool underground air blowing against the hot sweat on her skin. She shivered. Opposite the relay, a scientist manned the terminal, his eyebrows shooting into his forehead as she appeared. "You're back," he stuttered.

"Yes," she said, her expression stoic. "And I need to speak with Father. At once."

The scientist fumbled with his terminal, sending a message ahead to Sean and watched at her as she walked past him and into the elevator. People stopped and stared as she floated up, some muttering amongst themselves. Even some synths dared to raise their heads. Z1 looked up from the flowerbeds he was weeding, meeting her eyes almost accusingly. She returned his gaze without emotion, then moved on. Evidently her disappearance had not gone unnoticed.

Sean was waiting for her in his room, pacing slowly, his hands fidgeting. He looked up when she entered, sighing in relief as she approached. "Where have you been?" he questioned. "What on earth have you being doing? Have you heard?"

"I have been trying to resolve the problem," she said, summoning to mind the lie carefully crafted by Deacon and the others. "I heard a rumor that the Brotherhood was going to be more aggressive, so I went to go check it out. That's what I've been doing these past few days - Maxson's finally putting aside his pride and banding with the other faction. He thinks we're the bigger enemy."

"And did you find anything?"

Morgan sighed, letting her shoulders slump. "Some. I know they're coordinating efforts as we speak, at the Castle. But the place was locked down, and no one let in or out of it without special clearance. I considered trying to convince them to let me in, since I knew Preston, but as far as they know, I've been missing for months. They wouldn't let me in just because I asked."

"Damn." Sean cursed under his breath, resuming his pacing. He let out a frustrated sigh, sitting down on his bed with a hand on the edge to steady himself. "Mother, I..." He tried to start a thought, but weariness pulled at him, shadows blossoming under his eyes as he labored to breathe.

A prickle of concern and confusion tingled in the pit of her stomach. "Sean?"

The old man collected himself after a second. He took a deep breath, gripping the side of his bed so tight his knuckles went white. "I do not know if I am ready for this fight." He met her eyes, Nate's earnest green-hazel irises looking into hers. "Every day, I lose more and more of my strength. Even simple pacing exhausts me. I... I find I must pass my power to you, Mother." Morgan stared at him, lips parted in shock. Sean released a sad sigh, and extended his free hand. "Help me."

Morgan stepped forward dumbly and held his hands, lifting the sheets and propping up the end of the bed so he sit up enough to face her. Her son's hand seemed so small and weak in her own.

When reclining, Sean relaxed, exhaling and closing his eyes. "I have informed the other departments," he breathed, peering at her through narrow eyelids. "You shall inherit the Institute. I am not strong enough to defend us in this upcoming battle. Without a capable leader at the helm, our projects will become obsolete. Mankind Redefined needs someone with the passion to make our dream come true. And without a strong leader, the Institute may fall when the Commonwealth strikes back. I leave it to you, Mother." His eyes flicked to the desk against the left wall. "My Directorate password. Right side, second drawer. With the information on my terminal, you will have complete authority."

Morgan turned to move to the desk, but Sean stopped her. "Mother." His cool, skeletal hand clutched around her fingers. "I know we've had our differences. I realize you may have your misgivings, and me mine. But there is no one I trust with this but you. We are family, Mother." His thumb stroked across her knuckles in an almost affectionate gesture. "My blood made the Institute what is it today. You are a part of me. I believe you will lead the Institute to great things."

Morgan swallowed. "I'll do my best, Sean."

The light in Sean's eyes faded. "Call me 'son', Mother. Please. Just this once."

She trembled, and it took everything in her not to recoil from the old, dying, terribly earnest man clinging to her palm. "I will lead the Institute to great things, my son."

A faint smile spread across his face, and he released her. "Thank you."

Then his eyes fell shut, and he began to doze. Or die. Morgan didn't care to think on it. She crept to the desk and quietly opened the drawer, pushing through the papers and finding the unmarked holotape hidden at the back. She slid it into her pocket, closed the desk, and left.

She retraced her footsteps back to the bottom floor of the Institute, where the elevator waited for her. She passed Z1, staring off into the other direction to make it look like an accident when they bumped into each other. As their shoulders collided, she turned her head and murmured into his ear. "Saoirse." It meant 'freedom' in her mother's native tongue, and was just obscure enough to be mistaken for a sneeze or mumble. The hairs on the back of Z1's neck stood up.

She went back down the elevator after pocketing a thing of nutritional goo from the mess hall, waiting until she was back in the Relay room to open it. The scientist manning the terminal seemed shocked when she returned. Morgan waved a hand at him. "Wanted some privacy," she said. "It's quiet down here." She ripped open the biodegradable plastic wrap and stuck her compostable plastic spoon inside, shoveling a spoonful into her mouth. Banana-mango, otherwise known as flavor #91.

One by one, synths began to file in. Careful, quiet, not too many at once to be noticeable. In truth, if the terminal man had been paying attention, he might have questioned why there were now a dozen synths milling around, pretending to take inventory of the shelves nearby or repair some screws or loose panels in the wall.

Morgan's skin prickled when Z1 descended into the room, meeting her eyes for a moment before going to the shelves, waiting for her signal. The sudden sensation reminded her of that moment in the West Stands, in Diamond City, with Kellogg's shirt in her hand and Dogmeat panting in front of her. She remembered that brief, terrible moment, when the world seemed too loud and too heavy and her vision dimmed until she felt like she was staring through someone else's eyes. She assumed that Dogmeat would take her to Kellogg, to her son, and then it would all be over. Then she'd have to accept that she wasn't a fit mother, that she was broken, that she'd missed out on ten years of her son's life, and that she had no home to return to.

Then, she had feared the future. Now…

Her nutrition cup was empty.

Morgan crumpled it into a ball, tossing it aside with a faint clink as the thin plastic struck the floor tiles. She padded across the room, keeping her steps soft, stopping just behind the poor man at the relay terminal. "I'm sorry," she said, then slid her arm around his neck. His throat bobbed against the crook of her elbow, and she pressed one hand to the back of his head and flexed her bicep. He coughed, sputtered, clawed at her hands. At last, he choked, and slumped against her.

Morgan held him a moment longer to ensure he was knocked out, then released him. A few synths dragged him around the corner and hid him behind some boxes. Morgan sat down at the terminal and input the holotape bearing Sean's Directorate code. She searched for the right coordinates, counted the number of bodies to bring up. Then pressed enter.

A dozen bright blue lightning bolts burst in the Relay room, its brass metal walls sparking with electricity as it brought forth the chosen targets. Preston, Des, Maxson. Then Deacon, and- Donny, surprisingly enough. Then three Minutemen, three Brotherhood soldiers, and Tinker Tom.

"Whoa!" Donny's eyes went wide. "Whoa! It's so clean!"

"Donny?" Morgan stood up abruptly, frowning. "What are you doing here?"

The boy ran forward, giving her a wide smile. "Deacon let me come!"

Morgan shot Deacon a look as he and the others entered the room. "Donny, it's very dangerous here. You shouldn't have come. People are going to get hurt."

Donny pouted. "But everyone else is going! I got to sit in on the peace treaty, and besides - this is the only time I'll ever get to see the Institute! I promise I'll be good, and stay out of danger." He sighed, tugging at her fatigues and pouting harder. "I know I'll be safe with you."

As Morgan tried to combat Donny's pleading, Z1 emerged from the crowd of apprehensive, silent synths. "Are you the Railroad?" he asked tentatively, observing the group exiting the Relay room.

Maxson bristled, and Des stepped forward, bearing all the gravitas of leadership. "Yes. And others. We're here to help. I take it you're Z1?"

For once, Z1 lost some of his intensity as he breathed a sigh of relief. "You have no idea how much this means to us. All of us."

And so they retrieved their weapons from their many secret caches. Guns scrounged from the corpses of raiders. Modded monstrosities Morgan bought on Bunker Hill discounts. Guns and armor pieces lifted from the Minutemen reserves. They looked too much like store mannequins, with generic faces and fit bodies, covered in patchwork gear like some kind of ironic Pre-War fashion models.

Maxson looked ill.

"No alarms have been set off, yet, I don't think," Morgan piped up, resting a hand on Donny's head as he leaned against her. "But as soon as we go up into the facility, that will change."

"I can hack into the mainframe and shut down some of the doors, so they can't get through all at once," Tom offered.

"Good idea." Morgan nodded. "Only let them through one passage at a time, secure each room and move on to the next. We should have a separate team be relaying out with as much tech as we can, while the battle is going on. If... If we don't succeed, we can at least gain something from this."

"An excellent suggestion." Maxson raised his chin, clasping his hands behind his back in the regal pose he so often favored. "Bring up more Paladins. As discussed, my people will manage the forefront of the attack. My scribes and some Minutemen can assist with the removal of the technology."

"Sounds like a plan." Gently, Morgan nudged Donny away from her, kneeling down to look him in the eye. "Donny, I want you to stay here and look after Tinker Tom. You help him and give him whatever he needs, you understand?" Around them, soldiers marched forward, preparing to charge into the heart of the facility. "I'm not going to lose you."

Donny pressed his lips together, giving her a firm and wide-eyed nod. "Yes, Morgan."

Her throat choked, and she stood for a final hug as another wave of soldiers relayed into room. They parted, and Deacon came up behind them, sweeping Donny into his arms and hoisting him up from the ground, squeezing him tight and then dropping him beside Tom. Deacon and Morgan waved, Donny took a seat beside the Tinker, and the end began.

No one expected it when the first Brotherhood Paladin stormed through the hallway and beheaded the nearest security synth. Humanoid synths and scientists screamed, cowering behind benches and under desks. As soon as the first shot was fired, red light replaced the natural glow of the sunlamps. The rhythmic, incessant beeping of the alarms thrummed in their ears like a heartbeat. Previous generation synths and menacing Coursers flooded into the room, ready to fight back.

Some of the Railroad fired at the scientists in the beginning. Des let it slide, but Morgan made her voice heard over all the commotion. "We do not fire on civilians!" she bellowed, slapping aside the barrel of an offending agent. "You take and tie them and leave them for the Scribes!" At Morgan insistence, Des reluctantly made in an official order. The scientists and the scientists' children, while sustaining a few bumps and bruises, were caught and carried out, held in the Relay room for security.

First, they took the main room. Tom slammed the doors shut as soon as he wrenched control from the system using Morgan's Directorate code. One by one, the doors to each department slammed shut, going into lockdown and securing the center room. They could hear the sound of synths and Coursers trying to blow or burn through the thick metal. Donny's voice boomed over the intercom just as the main room was secured. "Head to Advanced Systems next!" he shouted, with the quaver of someone caught between anxiety and excitement. "Cut off their weapons supply!"

Morgan couldn't help a smile. Though it faded as she saw agents and Brotherhood alike get taken away on stretchers, medics yanking off bits of power armor to treat a soldier's wounds. Institute fighters flung themselves at the doors of the different facilities, voiceless but not without fury. Morgan suppressed a shiver and turned to the three leaders at her back. "Casualties?"

Maxson hissed as a Scribe plunged a stimpack into his side, blood seeping through his shirt. Desdemona wiped sweat from her brow, talking animatedly to the other synths as Z1 filled her in. Preston took off his hat, pressing it to his chest and stepping forward. "A lot," he said. "But no more than we expected. We've still got a lot more reinforcements coming in through the Relay."

"How many critically wounded?"

"Not sure. They're alternating teleports. Fifteen come in, fifteen go out. Some Railroad agents are using gun-barrel diplomacy to get the scientists to help."

Morgan sighed. "It'll have to do. The Relay room's crowded?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Get the Brotherhood people on the SRB room. That'll be the second hardest thing we do here, but if we can do it, it puts the odds in our favor. I want the Minutemen and the Railroad to take BioScience. They'll have a lot of medical technology, and I want as much of that taken out of here as we can." The closed door of the SRB wing let out an ominous thump, startling the room. "That's where most of the Coursers are," Morgan breathed. "Have everyone left behind cover that door. They could take all of us out if we're not careful." She nodded. "Move out."

The factions split as requested. Minutemen stayed to guard the main room, keeping an eye on the SRB door. The Railroad, the synth, and some Brotherhood Scribes opened and invaded the BioScience wing. Morgan led the charge on Advanced Systems. The scientists there didn't give up without a fight like the others in the main room. Some had strapped on pieces of synth armor and lifted their own laser rifles. They tried to fight non-lethally, with only partial success.

In the BioScience wing, Des and Z1 suppressed the gardeners and genetic researchers that cowered behind their cabbages and banana trees. But those gardeners turned on them by releasing the experimental synth dogs and gorillas banging on the walls of their cages. From the main room, the Minutemen could hear horrible, terrifying screams, followed by roaring and barking. But they stayed. They had to follow orders. They had to cover the doors, or all would be lost.

When they took Advanced Systems, Morgan heard the commotion coming from the main hall. She gathered a squad and raced back to the others, returning to chaos as the Coursers breached the door to the SRB wing and people ran screaming from the BioScience wing with blood-covered beasts at their heels. Maxson stood at the center of it all, in a battered set of Power Armor and wielding a gatling laser. "Fall back to the Relay!" he bellowed, and the others followed suit.

The allied forces let themselves be cornered in the Relay Room, the halls lined with wounded and suffering fighters, filled from wall to wall with and bound scientists and frantic reinforcements. "Donny!" Tinker shouted, his hands flying across the keyboard as he summoned more and more reinforcements, with no time to teleport anyone out. "New batch coming in!"

Fifteen more soldiers appeared in the Relay, but instead of calm orders and a plan of attack, they got a skinny, red-headed boy, reading from an electronic tablet and giving orders. Donny was good at making himself useful, getting people supplies they needed or keeping track of who needed to go where. He was a child of the wasteland - blood and gore didn't scare him, and he was far enough from the battle to stay chipper. "Paladins!" he said.. "Head through that hallway and assist Maxson!"

The armored soldiers looked at each other, then saluted, and raced past him. "Doctor!" a wounded agent wailed, bleeding onto a stretcher not far from Tom. "Where's a doctor? Where's Des?"

"Oh, man." The tinker, already sweating in panic, began to tremble. He leaned over his terminals and put his head in his hands. "Oh man, oh man oh man."

"Tom!" Donny rushed over, his hands full of clipboard and messages and supplies. "Tom, you gotta keep going. You can't stop now!"

"Donny, oh, kid, kid I can't, I gotta-"

"You gotta," Donny insisted, eyes wide. "We can't lose. You gotta do it for everybody. We gotta keep it together, Tom, we gotta do it!"

"Something going on, here?" The pair looked up to see a rather imposing female figure, with greasy red hair, dark eyes, and a suit of modified power armor. "Proctor Ingram, here for duty."

"Uh." Tom's eyebrows shot into his forehead, eyes wide and mouth agape. "Uh."

Donny gave the woman a wide smile. "Are you here to help? Great! I need you to give this to the guy in the white coat with the blood on him and the dark hair and the mole on his chin? What is it you do? Can you pick up a gun? We're-" An explosion went off, making everyone go still as ground shuddered. "We're having some trouble, y'see."

"I see." Ingram frowned. "Are you a squire?"

"Nope!" Donny chirped. "But you gotta go give those pills to the doctor." Someone shouted his name. "Oop! Gotta go!" And he dashed off.

Tom licked his hand and slicked his hair back, attempting to take on a casual posture as Ingram met his eyes. Someone screamed from far away. "So, uh, are you... What's your name?"

Meanwhile, in the main room, half of Morgan's face was covered in blood as she kicked away the corpse of the Courser that had just tried to strangle her. "How we doing on BioScience!" she shouted, her ears still ringing from the grenades they'd thrown at the dogs.

"We're clear!" Z1 shouted. "We can start moving and treating wounded!"

"Scribes!" Maxson bellowed. "Start transporting wounded to BioScience!"

Preston waved forward the next cluster of engineers. "Get out the food that you can! Get hard drives, get holotapes, everything must go!"

Morgan caught one of the engineers on his way into BioScience, a steely grip on his arm stopping him mid-run. "Look for someplace called the FEV Labs," she ordered. "That's your job. I need you to find some kind of serum. Look for it wherever you find the name Brian Virgil, understand?"

"Can do," he said, and raced after the others.

Morgan tried to wipe the blood from her cheek, but just smeared it across her glove and jaw. She cursed. "I want a final sweep!" she said, and spat to rid the taste of blood from her tongue. "We have to push forward without losing any ground! Balanced teams of Brotherhood, Railroad, and Minutemen. Synths, focus on transport. Clear the tubes and secure the Robotics wing and the SRB. I want shit moved out. Wounded, tech, everything. Strip this place fucking bare."

A resounding cry of "Yes ma'am!" came from all corners. The factions divided into equal groups with the direction of the faction leaders, racing off in all directions and pushing back the remaining Institute forces. The odds were in their favor, though they couldn't celebrate until this place was gone for good.

Blood and craters covered the floor of the main hall. The crisp green grass that circled the elevator was now dry and unkempt, dirt exposed where it had been blown open by an explosion or bullet. Cool, clean water still ran through the decorative streams, so medics had a steady supply and soldiers could stay hydrated. Morgan vaguely remembered that Des had been carried off after the assault on BioScience. Her heart ached. She pushed on.

"Deacon-" She spoke, then realized he wasn't behind her. She was so used to him always being near, she hadn't thought to look for him in a while. "Deacon?" Dazedly, she spun in a circle, looking for a familiar head of dark hair and shining sunglasses. There was no one. The main room was empty. Questioning the faction leaders revealed that no one else knew where he was, either.

He had vanished.