Unfortunately our journey didn't smooth out after the hospital. I don't know if the camp Nick had meant to lead us around had moved or if we just managed to blunder into an entirely different one, but tangling with mutants wasn't exact how I'd hoped to spend the afternoon.

We got away due to his quick thinking, but it'd come at a price.

"Daisy, honey, please tell me you have soap in stock. Or Abraxo. Or hell, I'll take some industrial solvent and a rag if it's all you got." As I entered her shop I left a trail of gore dripping in my wake. The few people hanging around by the gates didn't take long to high-tail it away from me.

Nick followed me in, but at a distance. He'd been spared the mess.

"Sweetheart! What the hell happened to you?" Daisy asked, taking an automatic step back. I knew I was rank, but it wasn't like I'd had a chance to clean myself up in the ruins. If only we'd run into the mutants before the storm! I'd have welcomed a few rads in exchange for the rain washing away some of the viscera.

"You ever wonder what happens if a mutie's lunchbag pops on you?" It wasn't a thought that'd ever crossed my mind before today, but life these days had a way of broadening my horizons in ways I never could have imagined before the war.

"I never have before, but I think I might have a new nightmare now. Jesus." She dug through her cabinets and laid a bar of soap down on the counter along with a washcloth that was well-patched and only a little dingy. Then, something else seemed to occur to her. She went into the back of her shop I could hear her digging around through several containers. When she came back, she set down a bottle with a worn-off label.

"Is that what I think it is?" If it was, it'd be worth more than ten times its weight in caps.

"Genuine pre-war lavender-scented bubble bath? The very thing. There's only a little left, but it should be enough to chase that stench off of you. On the house, for one of my favorite customers."

I could have cried.

"Daisy, you're a gem. I'd hug you, but you might want to take a raincheck on that," I said, carefully taking the soap and the bottle. "Any idea where I can get a tub and some water around here? The Rexford?"

"I can arrange that, sister," Hancock's voice came from behind me – someone must've told him about the latest freakshow to wander in through the gates. "What happened, you go back and have a roll around in Pickman's workshop?"

"It was my fault," Nick explained, scratching the back of his head and looking away in embarrassment. "Grenades and supermutant leftovers. Not the finest recipe I've ever been credited with."

"I can still taste it," I muttered churlishly. But as much as I was sulking, he'd saved my life – I couldn't hold it against him. Not for long.

Hancock made good on his offer to arrange a tub.

One of the pre-war apartments in town had been kept in tolerable shape by its original inhabitant. I don't know what kind of deal he arranged with the woman to convince her to let me into her home in the state I was in, but I assumed a fair amount of jet was involved because she was high out of her mind when I emerged two hours later smelling like a countryside dream.

Someone had thought to leave me a fresh set of clothing, at least. Most of what I'd been wearing was too foul to bother with trying to save, but I'd carefully rinsed the worst of the muck off of the leather jacket. It'd been mine now almost as long as it'd been Nate's, and I wasn't about to part with it.

Maybe I should have gone to find Nick once I was dressed, or to thank Hancock. I was sure they'd be wondering about how long I'd taken. But the first thing I did when I left the apartment was to find Daisy and pull her into a crushing hug.

"Wha – woah! I guess you weren't kidding about that raincheck," she said, laughing and hugging back just as tightly once she got over the start I'd given her. She took a deep inhale of my still-damp hair and sighed a little. "God, but doesn't that stuff smell amazing? If you hadn't needed it so badly, I'd be glowing with envy."

"If I ever find more of it, it's yours," I promised, before releasing her. "Oh! And I wanted to tell you something. I've been talking some plans over with the settlement committee up at the Castle, and since the library is already secure... we're going to clean it up and reopen it. People from all over the 'Wealth are sending in books so we can rebuild the collection. I have big plans, Daisy; you're going to love it. When the work is done, you have to come and visit. Will you?"

"Will I? Sweetheart, you'd have to fight to keep me away. I'll put in a word with the caravans, see what goodies I can start laying in for you. Most people don't value a good read they way they should, these days. If you bring back the library, though... oh, the thought of it does a girl's heart good."

I turned to leave her shop, only to spot Nick perched on the wall just outside and having a smoke.

"Eavesdropping, detective?" I asked, setting myself down beside him. Now that I'd had the chance to freshen up, it was easier to dismiss his role in the gore bag disaster from my mind.

"No, but I did happen to overhear you. You're really going to set up in the library?" he asked. There was something in his tone I couldn't quite place. I was starting to realize that he might just carry as many secrets around with him as I did.

"Yeah. Daisy asked me to clear the muties out of there a while back, and it struck me as a beautiful opportunity. It's a huge, fortified space, it's got an internal courtyard we can convert into a farm, and it's so close to Diamond City that convincing caravans to stop by on the way won't be an issue. I know downtown is dangerous... but I've gotten pretty handy with turrets. I really think it can work, if I can just convince enough people that books have value as more than ersatz toilet paper."

"Ersatz... ugh. I have to wonder how many masterworks were sacrificed to necessity," he said, shaking his head. "I... if we get the chance, though, could we swing by there sometime?"

I realized suddenly what it was in his voice that I'd heard a moment ago.

He sounded just like Daisy had back when I'd agreed to return her book for her – nostalgic, and hopeful in a shy sort of way. But even if he'd picked up a reading habit somewhere along the line, how could a synth built by the Institute have nostalgia for a library that predated his construction? I couldn't figure it out.

"Of course." I couldn't bring myself to deny him such a simple ask, and maybe taking him there would shine a little light on what the library meant to him. At any rate, it was about time I checked in on the progress. I knew work had begun a few weeks ago, and no word of delays had made its way to me since then. "If I'd known it was something you'd be interested in, we could've stopped in on the way here. You're a big reader?"

"I've got a thing for the classics. Poe, Huxley..."

"...Doyle, Chandler, Christie...," I teased, elbowing him lightly and laughing. The contact seemed to surprise him and he shifted away just enough to remind me of how he'd reacted the other time I'd tried to touch him. Whatever the reason, he didn't seem to appreciate it. I was going to have to pay more mind to keeping my hands to myself around him.

"You laugh, but you're not far off base," he admitted with that same soft smile I'd started growing so fond of. Apparently, he was quick to forgive. "What can I say? I like what I like."

That smile. I had no objectivity left when it came to him, and I knew it was almost entirely down to that smile. How long had I lasted, just over a week? If you only counted the time we'd spent together, I'd held out for just a few days.

Maybe that'd been the Institute's problem in the first place; trying to remain aloof and unaffected when the subjects of their experiments were so complex and engaging. How could anyone create a being able to smile like that and fail to be charmed?

Forget detachment. Forget my worries of observation bias. Forget the fear of getting too close to my subject. I'd just have to embrace the fact that my study of him was going to be through a lens of fondness.

"So here's the thing," I said, upstairs in the Statehouse, sitting across from Hancock. I didn't know him well, but I'd dealt with him before and Nick trusted him implicitly. "We didn't come to town on a social call. We came for your help catching an Institute spy."

"In Goodneighbor?" he asked, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his thighs. "What makes you think we've got one of those bastards here?"

"You might not," Nick admitted. "It's a long shot. All we really know about the guy is that he passes himself off as a drifter, and he's taken a bit of a special interest in Vera. Since all of the 'Wealth's drifters seem to pass through here sooner or later, hanging around and waiting for him to turn up and make a move is our best chance of clocking him."

"Wait, wait, wait. Hold on. Why the hell is the Institute interested in you, sister? No offense, but the Minutemen aren't exactly a threat to them. There's something I'm missing here."

I sighed. It wasn't that I didn't think Hancock was worth the trust I was placing in him, but opening up wasn't exactly natural for me. I'd only even told Nick as a part of a scheme to get close to him. Still, I didn't think he'd swallow the same lie that Travis had – and people who underestimated Hancock's intelligence didn't tend to live long afterwards.

So I told him about Shaun, the vault, and my fumbling attempts to piece together an investigation. I told him about how desperate I'd been for a lead, and how I found myself systematically digging through the vaults of the Commonwealth. When I started to tell him him how I'd run into Nick, he interrupted to tell that part himself.

"Just imagine me in my surprise, wasting away in Skinny Malone's guest room when this dame comes in with a bad disguise and a worse cover story. I almost thought Ellie'd sent her to haul me home, but she had her own game. Didn't stop her from rescuing me along the way, though. And when she got around to telling me what'd brought her down there and what she was chasing... well, I couldn't exactly turn a case like that away, could I? So here we are."

"You make it sound so dramatic," I said, laughing awkwardly. He'd made me out to sound like some kind of femme fatale – even at my best and most well-scrubbed, I was a scruffy mess through and through. Anyone could see that. "Anyway, he turned up more of a lead in the day after I hired him than I had on my own in nearly half a year. Come to find out, someone was watching from the minute I stepped out of that Vault back in October and passed the message along disguised as a news bit for Diamond City Radio. Hunting that asshole down is the first step towards hitting the Institute back for fucking with my family."

"Sheesh." He leaned back in his chair, taking a moment to think it all over. "That isn't an easy hand to have dealt to you. I can tell a few of my people to keep an eye out for anyone watching you. But things'll get tough if I let you bag a drifter where anyone else can see it, you feel me? We have to keep this quiet."

"Hancock, I watched you stab a guy just for trying to shake me down. I watched one drifter kill another just on suspicion of being a synth, and the crowd just shrugged it off. People turn up dead here all the time. How exactly is it going to be a problem for me to weed out an Institute spy? Your people don't exactly want that kind of trouble on their doorsteps. I'd be doing them a favor."

He rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand, and I got the feeling I'd made a fool of myself in some subtle way. It happened more than I liked, with just how much context I was still missing about how life worked here in the future.

"Listen," he began to explain, taking pity on me. "What you saw and what you can do are two different things, alright? People are generally okay with you passing through town, spending your caps, reminding them that help's out there for the asking. But you're the General of the Minutemen, and the second you become the Man to them, taking someone they think of as one of their own? Making accusations and passing judgment like that? Things get ugly. I'm not saying I won't let you. I'm not saying I won't help you. But you have to be smart about it, and you have to do it on my terms. I don't stay at the top of this heap without knowing how to manage it."

"He's right, Vera," Nick said. "Riling up this neighborhood is more trouble than it's worth. And besides, if we do this quietly there's more of a chance we'll get him alive. I don't know about you, but I have a few questions for the guy."

"Alright," I said, letting out a long breath. "I hear you. Doesn't make things easy, but I guess it's how we have to play the game."

"Hey. You can just kill him when you're done asking questions," Hancock said. His tone was light, but he hadn't been joking.

If I caught the spy, and if I got him to talk, and if any of what he had to say was reliable information, it still wouldn't be enough. Nothing would be enough until I had Shaun away from the Institute. Would killing a spy get me closer? Would letting him go afterwards do anything but tell the Institute I was soft?

It'd be more about vengeance than anything else if I killed him. But justice and vengeance had gotten twisted up in my mind, and I didn't see a way to separate them neatly. Was there any way this could end other than me killing whatever bastards stood between me and Shaun?

I must've been lost in thought for a few moments, because the next thing I knew Hancock was standing and had clapped me on the shoulder. "You're not going to be able to get any further on this thing until you've slept on it, I can see that. Come find me in the morning, and we can start planning."

He was right. The day had been a long once before we'd even made it to Goodneighbor, and I had a lot I wanted to turn over in my head. Any plan I tried to make now was going to be a hopeless mess. "If anything comes up, I'll be at the Rexford."

Nick and I took our leave together, but he stopped me just outside of the hotel. "I'm going to poke around town a little, check in with some sources that've come through for me in the past. Who knows? I might be able to turn something up. Folks here don't tend to turn in early, and it's not like I have to sleep."

Any sources he had in Goodneighbor were likely to be skittish about new faces and I knew he'd have better luck talking to them without me tagging along. Still, I'd been hoping for a chance to talk with him a bit as the day wound down and found myself disappointed to lose his company – even just for a few hours.

The room I found myself in didn't do much to cheer me. The furniture had seen two centuries of hard use, and I didn't want to think about the kind of grime that'd accumulated on the bare mattress. What had all the sheets in the world gone?

I'd slept worse places over the past few months, but I could still smell lavender on myself. I wanted clean sheets and a soft pillow and –

No. It was useless to think like that. Four walls around me and a roof that wasn't actively leaking were more than I'd had most nights since I'd left the vault. Any bed was a luxury.

Shaking my head to dismiss the thoughts of old-world comforts, I took off my pip-boy and laid myself down. In the morning I'd find myself a meal and some kind of hot drink to wake me up.

Then Nick and I would work out how to snare an Institute agent.

"So I think maybe we got off on the wrong foot?"

I woke to a stranger's voice in my room and sprang towards the source before I'd really even processed what he'd said – it was pure reflex against something that sure seemed like a threat. The intruder took a step back out of my range and held up his hands.

"Easy, easy. I just want to talk. I've only got one weapon on me and I'm not even holding it. That's practically unarmed by the local standards, don't you think? I'm a peaceful guy."

I backed off and eyed the room. I knew I'd locked the door, but I hadn't barred it. Would it have helped if I had? As far as I knew, this guy had been following me for months without me so much as catching on. If he wanted me dead, I probably never would've made it this far.

"Alright, so you want to talk. Talk, you Institute bastard," I demanded, pitching my voice louder than it needed to be in the vain hope that someone in a nearby room was both awake and sober enough to raise a fuss. What time was it? My pip-boy was still on the nightstand. All I knew for sure was that it was still dark outside. If this conversation took an ugly turn, how much of the morning would Nick let go by before he came looking for me?

"Whoa, okay. First things first? I'm not Institute. You've got this whole thing upside down, and once I get the explanation out, you'll laugh, I'll laugh, we'll be buddies. Pals, even! Just, maybe keep your voice down? Shit's sensitive, and I kind of don't want to be strung up by a mob high off their asses and thinking I'm Institute. Fuck."

I just stared at him. He offered me the worst caricature of a smile I'd ever seen, made more absurd by the sunglasses he was wearing in the middle of the night. I didn't smile back.

"I'm going to take those shades off you, and we're going to sit down at the table where we can both see each other's hands, and we'll talk this out like the civilized people we're apparently pretending that we are," I said in the closest thing I could muster to a measured voice.

Inside I was panicking. I wasn't about to take his word that he wasn't with the Institute, and even if he was telling the truth... someone that could stalk me for months and let himself into the room I'd been sleeping in wasn't someone I was inclined to trust.

"Hey, hey. How about this? I'll put my hands up, and you can take the gun from the holster on my back. Show of good faith, and all. No need for the glasses to come off."

I wanted a good look at him even more now that he let on he had something to hide, but it was more important to get him talking. I nodded, and he raised his arms.

Once I had the gun I set it on the floor and kicked it under the bed. "Have a seat," I said, gesturing at the table. "Make yourself comfortable." I joined him once his palms were flat on the surface.

"So, uh. I'm not with the Institute, but I have been keeping tabs on you. And I probably should have made contact before now, but I... things haven't been good lately. We've been cautious. And I know you're legit, but…"

He was starting to talk circles around his point. Was it just part of the funny-guy persona he'd put on for this meeting? I wasn't in the mood to play any kind of game.

"Hold up. Who's 'we'? Who do you report to, if you're not Institute? Why have you been keeping tabs on me? How did you know to watch for me coming out of the Vault, and why did you have it reported on the radio? You gave the Institute a lovely little present with that stunt."

Those weren't exactly the questions I'd had lined up, but I couldn't help as they spilled out of me. At least it'd be a starting point.

He whistled low. "Alright, I'll level. How much do you know about the Railroad?"

"... They help synths that manage to get loose from the Institute. Everyone seems to know someone that's run off to join up, but not many of those folks are ever heard from again. And no one is really willing to say more than that, not in public," I answered, watching his face carefully. "I suppose you're saying you're one of them? Is there where you tell me the enemy of my enemy should be my… buddy? Or was that pal?"

That got a snort of laughter out of him. You could almost mistake this for a cordial conversation, if you ignored how tightly my fists were balled.

"Yeah, basically. So, I can't exactly say where my information comes from, but... I knew there was something up with that vault of yours, and I went to check it out. Vaultie leaves vault, pretty standard stuff to start with, right? But after you pulled yourself together, you proceeded to either befriend or murder everything in your path. It was impressive. And terrifying! I thought that maybe this is the kind of person we could use. So between other business, I made it a point to keep up with what you were doing."

"Seems like an odd thing to catch the Railroad's interest." How had they gotten any information about the vault at all? How much did they know about what I'd been through? I wanted to know, but I had to prioritize. "And it still doesn't explain the radio."

I didn't miss how he said I could be used. The honesty in the phrasing made an impression on me, but it wasn't a good one.

"Right, right. So funny thing about Diamond City Radio? The signal gets everywhere. And as long as Travis thinks I'm just passing on a news bit to him, I can get any kind of message out anywhere I need it to go. Real convenient when you're risking your life in a cat-and-mouse game with an enemy like the Institute." He paused a moment, like he was replaying my words in his head. When he spoke again his voice wasn't half as smug. "What, uh. What exactly did you mean, when you said it was a gift for the Institute?"

So he hadn't missed that part.

I didn't want to tell him the whole truth. Or even the partial truth. But he looked alarmed by the notion he'd unwittingly played into the Institute's hand, and that was enough for me to at least entertain the notion he wasn't on their side. I hadn't decided whether or not to believe him about the Railroad, but I'd play along for the moment.

"Your friends aren't the only ones that listen in for messages. See... there was a certain Institute agent who seemed to take a real interest in the news about me leaving the Vault. There's something I need from him, but thanks to you the trail is cold. You can understand why I'd jump to conclusions here, right?"

His sunglasses hid his eyes, but not the way his brows rose. Did he know who I meant? How much did the Railroad know about the Institute's activities? Apparently, not enough to link my arrival in the Commonwealth with Kellogg's change of address.

"Oh, shit. Shiiiit. I worry so much about our own opsec, you know? I didn't even think of the unwanted attention you'd get for it. Hell. No wonder the word is you want me dead."

The only person that information could have come from was Hancock but I doubted he'd have told his people, whoever they were, more than they needed to know.

On the other hand, if the Railroad was active in Goodneighbor then it would have to be with Hancock's blessing. Assuming that much was true, it made a certain kind of sense that he'd loop a Railroad agent in on potential Institute activity in town.

But this man had let himself into my room while I was sleeping. However much Hancock allowed Railroad activity on his turf, I didn't think he'd tell someone how to catch me while I was vulnerable. Something about it all didn't fit, but the more I tried to put the pieces together the more I could feel a headache coming on. I rubbed at my forehead.

"Anyway," the stranger said, drawing out the last syllable in a way that sounded somewhere between playful and bored. He apparently wasn't comfortable with long gaps in a conversation. "Didn't seem like the sort of thing you'd let blow over, so I figured..."

"...That you'd put yourself in my path. Something about being murdered or befriended, right?" I didn't know if I liked him and I definitely didn't trust him, but I had to admire his nerve. "People ever tell you you're a little crazy?"

"Heh. You get it! And yeah, people definitely think so. But listen. I know I screwed things up for you. I'm sorry. I don't know if it's something I can make up for, but I still think we can work something out. We know more about the Institute than anyone else operating in the Commonwealth. We should be scratching each other's backs, here. Don't let one mistake ruin what could be a good thing."

What help could the Railroad offer me, and what would they expect in exchange for it? Without them I didn't have a clear path forwards, but I didn't like the thought of being used. I just knew too damned little about them.

I sighed and got up to retrieve my pip-boy from the bed. It said the time was 3:17, and the headache that'd threatened earlier was looming closer.

"You're not getting a decision out of me tonight. It's late, I had a shit day, and I'm tired. I'll think on it, and get back to you." Assuming that at least a few of the people who left their families to join up with the Railroad managed to make contact with them on their own, Nick and I shouldn't have too much trouble.

And I didn't want this guy thinking I needed his help finding his front door.

He held my gaze a bit, or at least I thought he did behind his sunglasses, and then nodded. "Alright. But for what it's worth, whatever reason you have for chasing them down – I hope you get what you're after. Good luck out there."

With that he got up, climbed under the bed to retrieve his gun, and left.

It occurred to me a few minutes later that I hadn't asked his name. He hadn't asked mine either, but he hadn't needed to. He'd known exactly who I was and he'd left with the upper hand.

I sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed my forehead once again. This was a mess. I wanted to fill Nick in immediately. I wanted to follow the supposed Railroad agent out into the night. I wanted my head to cleat so I could sleep.

The prospect of wasting a dose of med-x on what was most likely just a stress headache wasn't appealing, but there was no way I'd get back to sleep before dawn without at least something to take the edge off. Once it'd taken effect, I was out like a light.

When I woke again, there was a holotape sitting on the nightstand next to my pip-boy. Join the Railroad! it said on the label.

Nick was leaning against the wall outside of the Rexford the next morning, adjusting something in his wrist with a screwdriver. I stood in place just watching him for a moment, and it soon became apparent that he was struggling.

He'd told me that he preferred to handle his own maintenance himself and I'd accepted it, but seeing him actually do it was another thing entirely.

Offering to do it for him wasn't going to go over well, I knew. But that wasn't the only way to help.

"H&H Tools used to make the best stuff you could get," I said, joining him. Something about the moment felt fragile, and I spoke softly. "But I guess they had a change in management at some point Changed the steel to something softer and cheaper. Maybe it was alright for the weekend warrior crowd, but anyone who knew better stuck with the older stuff. You want to try one from my kit? Might have better luck."

He looked at me strangely, as if he'd only barely noticed my presence before I spoke. "Huh. Usually I just use whatever's handy, no pun intended. There's really that much of a difference?"

I set my pack on the ground and knelt, digging around inside for my tool roll. "Oh yeah, absolutely. The one you're using feels kind of mushy on the screwhead, right? Keeps slipping? That's not you fumbling the job, that's just the screwdriver being a piece of shit. Here," I said, handing him what I hoped was the right size. "Try this. Tell me if it's better."

He tucked the screwdriver he'd been using away into his coat and took the one I offered. "Feels a little heavier," he said, before putting it to his wrist. The adjustment he made was a simple one, but when he stretched out his hand and closed it, he seemed to be satisfied with the result. "Huh. You know, you're right. That's a world of difference. Guess you do know your stuff."

I offered a smile. "You could say that. And my kit is your kit, just for the asking. Anything I don't have, I'm sure I can find for you."

He turned his wrist back and forth once again and watched the motion of it before handing the screwdriver back to me. There was more I wished I could have done, but it felt like progress enough just to have him accept this much.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

I returned the screwdriver to my toolroll and repacked it in my bag. This time, I packed it closer to the top, where I kept my stimpacks and water. If he ever needed it again I wanted it to be close to hand.