"Move! Becks, let him go!" McAllister shouted as he ran to her side.

I watched and remained speechless. As the scribe neared our fallen synthetic friend, Nick's lover proceeded to punch Elliot square in the mouth with all her might. She screamed at him to get away from Nick, and not to lay hands on him. Elliot rebounded easily from the hit and forcefully took Valentine from Becks' arms.

"This won't end well. It just won't." I thought.

Mel and Ollie rushed in to embrace Rebecca in her grief and rage. The couple restrained her, but perhaps more importantly, gave comfort as much as they showered battle born insanity more often than not. Becks eventually gave in to her obvious exhaustion and laid her head on Mel's shoulder while Ollie gently rubbed her back.

Piper dashed over to Elliot's side to see what assistance she might render before the former Brotherhood scribe raised a hand in warning. He had laid Nick out on a nearby time-worn sofa, and rummaged in his own leather pack for a small scanning device. As he pressed a button, a harsh static noise followed by a siren sound issued from the object. Elliot soundly smacked it, and attempted again to get it to operate for whatever its intended use was.

I skirted around the congealing blood from her- my- broken corpse. Nick's signature fedora lay on the tile floor beyond where we had discovered him. I bent and carefully scooped it up. I don't know why but I felt the compulsion to give it a sniff. For me, it held everything I associated with my estranged friend. Aged tobacco, libraries with their old books, and not quite rusted metal wafted up into my nostrils. That's when reality hit. I'd never again hear his voice or feel the comfort of his presence. My grief was nothing compared to Rebecca's and yet it permeated my spirit in a way I hadn't expected.

"Damn. I'm getting nearly zilch for residual readings. Repairing Valentine's primary functionality is beyond my ability. At least not here. I hate to say it, but we need to get him to the Prydwyn." Elliot remarked gloomily.

Piper frowned, and was obviously trapped in panicked thought. A warning growl issued from behind us. Dogmeat had caught up, and clearly disagreed with the proposal.

"Deacon! Why didn't I think of him first? The Railroad can help Nick! We just need to get him there." she shouted triumphantly.

"And I presume you know just how to find them then?" Ollie said with irritation evident in his tone.

"About as well as you can spot a Junk Jet in this wreck of a place." Piper retorted.

Oliver said nothing but continued to glare at her. I didn't understand what exactly was going on between the two but if it made him of all people doubtful, I had to have concerns myself. Then again, if this 'Railroad' could help Nick even the slightest bit, shouldn't we do everything in our power to seek that assistance out?

"How long do we have? I mean, before he's…irretrievable." I asked, feeling morbid beyond words to be standing over the scene of loss and asking such a question.

McAllister stared back at me from where he was hunched over Nick's form. In that moment, he looked like a physician about to deliver the news to waiting family that it was time to unplug the machines and let their loved one pass.

"I'm not certain. Valentine is, as far as the Brotherhood ever knew, unique in comparison to the other synths we've been able to study. Which was admittedly few." he said.

He sounded almost as if were ashamed of the Brotherhood of Steel's lack of knowledge. Or maybe that he was simply abashed at having been part of such a force. I couldn't know with any certainty.

"Then time is of the essence, right? Let's get moving instead of sitting around here, yapping at each other." Piper said.

"And not one of you is willing to see the additional corpse in the room? Especially you, Sandra. You encouraged Brenna to start this investigation. Are we adding another clone to our list or what?" Daniel asked.

I knew his voice was more accusatory than typical for him, but that was from his greater concern for me than anything else. In a way though, he was right. Sandra, Daniel, Melissa, Ollie, and I had set out on this insane journey together. We had been determined to find at least an answer for me, if not a way home. So much had changed along the way that it was breathtaking at times. It dawned on me that not only had we all lost sight of the goal, but that it had changed entirely along the way.

"…Unless you're willing, Adams? Gonna turn out a corpse's pockets? Pick her purse? Just what was the plan here?" Ollie all but shouted at Daniel.

I felt like I'd missed more than a few moments of conversation while sucked into my reverie.

"Hey. Hey! Knock it off. I'll do it myself. Can't resist the opportunity for rifling through my own belongings, now can I?" I yelled back, stomping off to investigate the dead woman and any potential identifying items.

"Love, wait…" Daniel all but whispered into the enrobing silence that had settled upon us.

I ignored him, and instead bent to touch this face that looked so hauntingly like mine. Maybe it was more accurate to say that she bore an eerie resemblance to my mother or my aunt due to the obvious difference in our ages. Even in death, her visage spoke of our shared lineage. I looked into her lifelessly staring eyes, and in them I saw my own.

My fingertips brushed over the small birthmark on her chin; the very same one I had hated throughout my teen years. Her ears weren't gauged or even pierced at all like mine were. Morbid curiosity propelled me on to lift the leg of her pantsuit. I recoiled, landing hard on my ass. The only tattoo I have colored her left calf as well. The lines of my Aries inspired pinup girl were the same. The unique touches that were made by my artist were swooping and shading her own lady.

I tried to keep my eyes from looking directly at the gunshot wound to her head. It was the only thing noticeable from a quick glimpse that I avoided to the best of my ability. The spray pattern of sticky blood, fine bits of gray matter, and bone made me wonder if it hadn't been a self-inflicted shot. That hurt my heart in surprising ways. Many years ago, my husband's uncle ended his own life. Knowing what the surviving family goes through, I'd always sworn to never put them through that again. Maybe she hadn't experienced a loss like that. There was no way to know for sure.

Seeing her destroyed brain brought on questions of whether or not she suffered from epilepsy too. Carefully picking up her left hand, I easily noticed the signs of joint damage from rheumatoid arthritis. Did her medical history mirror my own in the way her appearance did?

None of the people with me made a move to interrupt. Piper looked on in keen interest; Daniel with both pain and love. Elliot had his back to me while continuing his work on Nick. Becks stood with the Strykers, the trio looking in any direction possible except for my way. Sandra sat on the floor, her arms around Dogmeat and a horrified expression on her face. As much as it hurt to see these people I'd come to love and to trust keep their distance, I knew instinctively that this was one road I must travel alone.

I turned my attention back to the dead woman before me. As I reached out to gently lower the arm that had been thrown above what remained of the top of her head, I saw the governmental identification tag clipped neatly to her bloodstained lavender blouse. If I left her arm where it was, I could more easily access the pockets I saw that were sewn into the inner lining of her blazer.

"Shit. I feel like I've fallen down the rabbit hole." I muttered to myself.

Once I had removed her I.D. tag, I turned it over in my hands. The picture upon it showed a smiling woman in her mid-fifties. Her auburn hair was streaked with silver strands, the same ones I had debated long and hard about coloring once I had started going gray in my mid-twenties. There was certainly no room for argument once I saw the name written below the photograph.

"Brenna J. Morley, Investigation Unit Commander, Office of Homeland Security. What the hell is that division, Zombie?" came Piper's voice from above me.

"I haven't the foggiest. We don't have that one in my world." I replied.

I looked over my shoulder to see Piper standing behind me with her hand held out to accept the tag. In a fog of déjà vu, I passed it up to her. If anything, I knew she wouldn't just let this piece of evidence fall from our grasp. Piper was a woman who clung to new information the way a small child will hug her mother's legs when afraid.

My hands were trembling by the time I reached into this Brenna's suit jacket. Trying to avoid actually coming into contact with her body more than absolutely necessary, I slipped my fingers into the first pocket I came across. A little worn brown leather wallet came out in my grasp. It was the sort of thing I might have carried around if I didn't have a penchant for large tote bags that I'd sewn patches or sayings onto. I carefully opened it, and within lay a small stack of photographs.

On the top was a picture of this same woman in the not-so-distant-for-her past. She wore a swimsuit that was old fashioned in its appearance, with a knee length skirt and modest torso. Her long waves had been captured in a messy bun. A likewise old-school swim trunk clad man who appeared to be in his early sixties held her in a dip as though they had been dancing, and behind them was a beautiful sunset casting orange rays across the beach sand on which they stood. It looked like the photographer had caught her mid-laugh. A smile mirrored my face at seeing her joy in that moment. It was, in a strange way, a comfort to see that this poor soul had had some bliss in her life.

I shuffled through to the next one, and the smile dropped off my face. A younger version of her stood next to the same man. She in an ivory lace dress; he in slacks and a cobalt blue button down shirt. Both were adorned with floral crowns upon their heads. Before them were my own high priestess and high priest, arms held skyward in supplication to the gods and goddesses who bore witness to this ancient ritual. I could easily spot the bonfire burning off to the left, and the backs of the people gathered all around. Twined through this Brenna and her mystery man's clasped hands was the telltale cord of a handfasting. Whoever he was, this man was now her groom.

I turned the photo around so that the others with me could see it as I explained that it was a marriage picture.

"That man is also not my Jay. I have no idea what his name is. Guess this proves that she is truly not me. Thank Goddess." I said, my voice cracking under the strain of this new information.

Daniel had made his way to where I was sitting next to the ruined body of yet another version of myself. I felt the strength of his arms slide under my own as he lifted me from the floor.

"Come this way, love. We can look at what you've found once we sit ourselves down on the chairs next to Nick." he said as he guided me away.

It felt as though there was some magnetic pull between the dead woman and myself. I needed to be by her side. I needed to see myself in her. I needed the truth.

The group gathered around Daniel and I once we were seated. Dogmeat came and laid his head on my knee. For the first time in my life, I didn't care if a dog was near me. The old saying of there being strength in numbers is true. I felt…safer with all of them there.

I passed the two photos I'd found of the happy couple around to the others. As I flipped through the remaining three pictures, I saw a bigger piece of the puzzle of who this woman was. One photo showed a serious face with the subtle hint of a smile as she stood with a group of about two dozen others dressed in strange variations of office wear and militarized police gear. They were outside of a huge and almost art deco building that bore a sign indicating that it was the Office of Homeland Security.

"I still have no idea what that is. Any of you guys ever hear of it?" I asked, forgetting that aside from my Daniel, and Becks, none of the others were even alive around the time that such an office may have existed.

"Our past makes no mention of anything remotely like it." McAllister said.

"The Brotherhood would certainly know that, nosey tech bastards that they are." Ollie added.

The next picture was clearly a professional shot instead of the casual photography of the previous ones. This Brenna was much younger, not more than about 20 or so years old. She wore a police officer's uniform, and her face was all iron determination and pride. A man in an expensive-looking suit was shaking her hand, and judging by the well-muscled men in black suits with barely concealed handguns by their sides, he must have been quite important.

"Check the back. Maybe she wrote something to explain what this was all about." Elliot whispered. There was no mistaking the fascination in his voice.

The reverse of the photo did indeed have my own scribble on it. I traced the familiar swirls of my penmanship while I read her words aloud:

"Me with President Samuel L. Jackson! I still can't believe it. He presented me and my squad with the Presidential Medal of Civilian Protection Excellence for our actions on September 11, 2001."

I looked around to see nothing but equally confused faces. Not a one of us had ever heard of this President Jackson fellow, or knew what happened on that particular date. The only thing we knew beyond doubt is that she was in law enforcement, proud of it, and by what we had seen, she was damn good at her job.

"None of this makes sense. I hate this kind of thing. That's why I'm a marketer." I said.

"Love, this isn't you. Not exactly anyway." Daniel reminded me.

"Still…" I replied, not having any other words to add.

I handed the picture off to Sandra so that it could be passed along like the others. I looked down at the final photo sitting in my lap, and sucked in a sharp breath of air.

This Brenna had aged up to about my own mid-thirties range. She stood in a beautiful forest green sundress next to a grinning young woman in graduate regalia decorated with all the trappings that marked her as valedictorian. I would recognize that smile, those blue eyes, and that ridiculous nail polish anywhere.

"It's Charlie! My baby sister!" I shouted, tears of an odd sort of pride falling down my cheeks.

She may not have been my Charlotte exactly, but damn it, she was close enough. She did what she had always said she would. Top of her class at M.I.T. I only wished that our parents could see this photo from what should have been our near future.

Daniel took the photograph and flipped it over onto my upturned palm. Instead of my own messy scrawl, Charlie's neat handwriting covered the back:

"Fate made us cousins, but love made us friends. Thank you for all your laughter and support over the years. I love you, Bean."

"Cousins?" I asked in a voice so small that even in my own ears I sounded like a child again.

"Bean? Who's that supposed to be?" asked Mel.

"That was her nickname for me. I've had a passion for coffee for most of my life. It's short for Coffee Bean." I explained emotionlessly.

The picture fluttered to the floor as my hands lost their grip on it. Shock filled every part of me. How could this woman and I be so alike and yet so very different?

"Funny how all of this plays out. The Brotherhood of Steel found one Brenna who was a gifted scientist from her youth and onward. Then with both you, and this one here, we find that neither of you were the intellectual force to reckon with in the family. Oh, I mean no insult! Just that we have examples of opposing presentations of you. If we look at both of you, Charlotte was the prodigy. Although only in your case was she a sibling. Then the scientist Brenna was the genius. Lacking a sibling, perhaps she had a cousin whose life path departed in the opposite way as well. So many if/then scenarios now." McAllister mused aloud, his gaze locked onto the cadaver at our feet.

I wished he wouldn't do that. I was feeling haunted through and through.

"C'mon, boy. Let's go." I said, standing as Dogmeat joined my side.

Clutching the little wallet with its treasure of photos, I resolutely walked out of C.I.T. without bothering to look back.

Three hours after departing the university, we made our way towards the Boston Common. Ingenuity won out, and we had devised a cart of sorts to transport Nick to wherever this Railroad group had their hide out. While tugging our load along wasn't easy by any stretch of the imagination, carrying him in any capacity such as on a litter, would be far worse. Our ability to halt quickly and as safely as possible if under attack would be significantly hampered. Plus the man weighed a ton. I guess that shouldn't have surprised me, what with him being entirely comprised of metal, circuits, and whatever material his skin was made of.

The fading strokes of sunlight caressed the smallish pond off to our left. What remained of a once picturesque group of little swan shaped boats bobbed on the water, their paint long since flaked away in many spots. Several destroyed swans littered the far bank near the miniature dock, presumably where little kids would pester their parents into forking over the money to take a boat ride in the summer sun many decades ago.

"We've got to follow the Freedom Trail to get there. Tours started from this pond back before the bombs. Anyone up for a history lesson?" Piper quipped.

My attention had been captured by the statue of a woman in Puritan dress standing just beyond the gazebo to our right. I wandered over to her, and briefly checked for her name on the inscription on a small plaque at the base that held her. It confirmed for me that I knew beyond doubt who she was. Almost as if led by their own, my fingers touched her face. My heart broke for her, and yet I was proud to see that some things remained the same here.

The group had quietly made their way over to me and the woman cast in bronze before us. None spoke a word, waiting for my commentary.

"This is Margaret Jones. She was put to death for witchcraft on June 25, 1648. Her gallows tree is behind her there. Mrs. Jones was the founder of our faith here in America. We don't observe many national holidays but June 25 is set aside for her. She's here too. I'm astounded but so happy to see that." I said with the reverence due our nation's first priestess.

"She was hung for sedition and treason here. This woman very nearly destroyed the spark of freedom that led to the revolution." replied Becks with a venom I never expected of her.

I whipped my head towards her, indignation in my voice.

"That can't possibly be true! She was an American heroine!" I exclaimed.

"Both of you quit it. We have much bigger fish to fry rather than some old crap about religion or political nonsense. None of that affects us now. We have a job to do." Mel said, chastising us.

Just as we resumed our path across the Common towards the beginning of a wide painted red line that mapped out the Freedom Trail, Dogmeat sprinted away with a growl and a series of sharp barks. He suddenly stopped by a large green carcass. This supermutant was of a size I'd never seen before. The rotting form before us had been armored with broken swan boat pieces, and the typical amalgamation of random shit that supermutants found appealing.

I heard Piper chuckle as Dogmeat lifted his leg and pissed on the dead mutie. Apparently I was the only one who felt any amount of shock at this act. Normally, I'd chalk it up to the fact that canines marked their territory and that'd be it. But Dogmeat wasn't quite a normal dog so I had a feeling that normal dog logic didn't apply to him.

"Hey, furbaby! Doesn't that nasty thing stink enough without you adding to it?" called Sandra to the dog.

"Furbaby? That a bit much, Sandra?" asked Daniel.

"I don't knock your pet names for Brenna, do I?" she replied.

"There's a difference between an animal and a lover. You ought to know that." he said.

Sandra made an irritated sound and rolled her eyes at him. Dogmeat came running back to her, panting and looking self-satisfied. I asked Piper if she knew why he had done that. She explained that the dog, Nick, and Nate had slain the creature on their first trek to find the Railroad. It was unsurprising to find that this mutant had called itself "Swan".

We continued following the red line as the sun began its daily retreat towards the other side of the planet. Whenever needed, we worked as a team to finagle Nick's cart over piles of debris. It became more inconvenient when we were attacked by supermutants outside of Faneuil Hall.

"Shit. Why does it always have to be greenskins?" asked Daniel as we took cover behind the cart.

"Because we're in the heart of Boston, sweetheart. Everyone who's anyone comes here for the history, culture, and night life!" I shouted with a laugh.

"We've been hanging around the Strykers too much." he replied, popping up to take a shot at the mutant wielding the mini gun on the scaffolding with his incendiary pistol.

I took my own shot once he had taken cover again. We had found our rhythm in combat together, and I do believe our bond had a lot to do with the fluidity of it all. The .44 that Elliot had given me was my new favorite weapon, and poor Helga had been relegated to secondary status. Just as my bullet hit the greenie in the gut, a series of teddy bears came zooming overhead. They struck the mutant with surprising force, blowing its head off in chunks.

"You know that thing is ridiculous, right?" asked Piper as she passed Ollie and his new Junk Jet.

"Why do you think I pilfered it in the first place? 'Outlandish' is my middle name. Yup, Oliver 'Outlandish' Stryker. Sounds great, doesn't it?" he said with a grin.

"That's my man." Mel added in fondly as she caught up to her husband.

"Time to get this horse and buggy show on the road, people." Becks directed, taking up her spot at the side of Nick's cart.

Thinking back to my days in the Girl Scouts and my troop's big trip to Boston in my teen years, this Old North Church that Piper said we were heading to never existed in my world. If I was correct about the location on the Freedom Trail, the building in question was home to the First Circle of Lady Brigid. All of this differentiation between my world and this one was giving me a migraine. It felt like I was seeing the world around me with double vision. As if what I knew was transposed over what I actually saw.

Working as a team, we hefted the cart over the last hill of destroyed architecture and onto the street before the front door of the church. While there were some obvious differences, such as the lack of Lady Brigid's statue, the building itself remained the same. The steeple towered overhead, and the old words of the revolution came to mind.

"'One if by land, two if by sea.' I guess we never forget the history of our country. William Dawes' midnight ride became the stuff of legend." I remarked as we all looked up at the church.

"Dawes? No, that's not right. He was the second rider, taking a different route. It was Paul Revere who delivered the message to Samuel Adams and John Hancock. Well, the original Hancock anyway." Daniel said, looking at me like I'd grown a second head.

"I'm just as confused as you are, sweetheart. I'm struggling to put all of this together." I said while reaching out my hand to grasp his.

Daniel folded me into his arms, and we shared a brief hug before I asked Piper what we were looking for once we entered the church.

"There's a crypt underneath the building. Those tunnels lead to the Railroad's HQ. Fun, right?" she replied.

"Time to put your feral stompin' boots on." Elliot said.

"We're almost there, Nicky. Please don't leave me." Becks said softly as we all boosted the cart up and over the threshold of the church.

It was immediately obvious to us that the cart was now useless. The narrow doorways and overturned pews meant it was time to carry Nick to our destination. Ollie and Elliot hoisted him out, and struggled through the first entryway with their load. All the noise we had made drew out the first round of feral ghouls.

No matter how many of these things I killed, it still bothered me. At first it was knowing that they were human at some point in time. Now it was because I feared Daniel could end up like that. I had no idea if that was even a possibility, but lack of knowledge didn't erase my worries.

Mel, Becks, and Sandra took out the ferals with practiced ease. I was glad that worked out well, considering that the rest of us had ended up bottleneck jammed in the entryway. Traveling with a crowd usually meant greater safety. The exception to that rule was if we were all stuck indoors.

Elliot and Ollie were having a loud…discussion…over just how to best carry Nick down to the Railroad. Ollie still felt that a two man carry would be best if they weren't going to fashion a litter for Nick to ride in. Elliot quite literally took matters into his own hands, and lifted Valentine up into a fireman's carry.

"That's fine. We both know I'm the better man when it comes to combat. At least you're finally willing to admit it." Ollie said with a smirk.

"Stryker, if I didn't have my arms full, I'd knock your ass out." McAllister replied.

"But I like my ass right where it is. I bet the ladies do too." Ollie said, wiggling his butt to emphasize his point.

"Just Mel, my dear." I said, giggling at the stupidity that broke the pall of worry that covered us all.

We marched down to the catacombs underneath the church, and I felt awkward at not honoring the dead with a candle and some incense. That was until some of the almost dead ferals came after us again. Piper, Daniel and I took the shots this time. Our pistols were more accurate in the enclosed space we were traveling through than the weapons our companions carried.

It wasn't long before we came upon one of the Freedom Trail seals attached to the wall. Piper directed me to spell out 'Railroad' by spinning the dial. It felt very much like the combination padlocks I'd used on my lockers at school as well as work. The hidden door opened before us, and Piper held out an arm to indicate that we were to wait for her to enter first.

"These people are understandably gun shy with strangers. Bringing Nick here is kind of a gamble. McAllister, follow behind me. The rest of you, wait for one of us to call you in. Everyone got it?" Piper directed.

After seeing each of us either nod to confirm our instructions or in the case of Ollie, salute, Piper and Elliot stepped out into the dirt foyer of the Railroad HQ. From within, I heard a man's voice greet Piper. That is until he saw the load Elliot carried.

"Hey, it's Piper! Where's Nate? I know you two are joined at the hip. We still haven't… Nick? Dez! Get the doc! Valentine needs help!" Deacon shouted.

The rest of us rushed forward, and helped McAllister bring Nick into the cavernous room to the people we hoped had the ability to save him. Hopefully this gamble would pay off. Everything was at stake.

A/N:

So a few things to mention. My husband thought the inclusion of Samuel L. Jackson as the president was over the top. Maybe he's right, but we do have a precedence set in the US from President Ronald Regan. I took some liberties (as usual) with some historical records. Margaret Jones was indeed one of the first women to be put to death for witchcraft in Boston on the date in the story, however it didn't happen in the Boston Common. The inclusion of William Dawes as the main historical figure in the famous "midnight ride" instead of Paul Revere was done to emphasize the differences between worlds. Dawes was the real second rider as Daniel points out, and so plays a role in our true national history. I encourage you all to look into the stories of these people who had such an impact on both Brenna's world and our own. :)