Lillian and Canigou made their way through Cambridge to the Charles River. So far they hadn't come across anyone, or anything, else. The first bridge across the river was partially wrecked by a boat. She wasn't sure about crossing it, it didn't look very safe. Besides, Haylen had suggested going to Bunker Hill first which was on the side of the river she was already on.

She passed the old Commonwealth Institute of Technology campus, still mostly standing. She wondered if the Brotherhood recon teams had already pilfered everything from it. They continued on along the river when Canigou started growling.

Lillian immediately crouched behind a mailbox and carefully looked around. A huge crab-like creature emerged from the bushes. Lillian gasped then covered her mouth so it couldn't hear her. What the hell was that? The creature walked across the street, then turned around to head back to the bushes. Shit. She decided to take a detour through the side streets. At least she knew the roads. She quickly snuck around the corner and into a small alcove so she could consult Haylen's map. It marked a couple of locations along the way with 'Raiders', so Lillian decided to detour around those areas as well.

By the time she reached Bunker Hill, dusk had fallen. A makeshift junk fence surrounded the monument, which Lillian was surprised was still standing, and the gate was wide open. An older woman with blonde hair was standing guard with a shotgun.

"You there! Caravan or Raider?" the woman called out to her.

"Um, I'm here on my own," said Lillian, "Just me and my dog."

"Okay, market's still open for a bit. If you need a drink or a place to sleep, go see the Savoldis around to the left," said the woman as she gestured behind her.

"Have you seen anyone with a baby recently? Or a bald man with a scar on his face?" Lillian asked.

"No," the woman replied, slightly confused, "Sounds like you need a detective. There's one in Diamond City."

"Thanks," said Lillian, as she passed by the woman into the small settlement. There were wooden shacks against the junk fence, along with a small garden. There was a pen with a living two-headed cow. She headed over to it. The cow looked at her with one of its heads while the other grazed. She reached out to pet it. It was so bizarre. She needed a drink so she continued on to the bar where the bartenders were arguing about a railroad or something.

"Hey you, talk some sense into my son," the older man said to Lillian.

"Um, about what?" she asked.

"I'm just saying that people got to do something, Dad," said the younger man.

"And so now you start caring about synths?" said the older man.

"Why on earth would you care about synths?" asked Lillian, thinking back to the ones at ArcJet.

"They have a right to live as regular people, don't they?"

"But... they're robots," said Lillian, "Creepy ones."

"No, I mean the human synths," said the young man, "The ones that look like you and me. Not the older synths."

"Wait, there are synths that look like humans?" Lillian asked, her eyes widening.

"Yeah, where've you been?" asked the older man. "Problem is you can't tell that they're synths."

"Are you a synth?" Lillian narrowed her eyes at him.

"Get outta here," he said.

"So anyway, who serves the drinks?" she asked. She really needed one now.

"I do," said the older man, "Joe Savoldi. This is my son, Tony. And I won't have any more synth talk. Whaddya having?"

"Beer. Whiskey. Anything."

"Here ya go." Joe handed her a bottle of beer.

"Thanks." Lillian drank it in silence. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to know how much it costs to hire a detective, do you?"

"What do you need a detective for?" Tony asked.

"My baby boy is missing."

"Shit, I'm sorry to hear that," said Joe. "Can't say I know how much it would be, but I think you need a hired gun first."

"Why do you say that?" asked Lillian.

"You're new around here, aren't you? Don't even know what synths are."

"I guess you're right," Lillian sighed. "So where would I go?"

"Goodneighbor's your best bet," he said. "Just watch yourself there. It doesn't always live up to its name."

"Goodneighbor?"

"Across the bridge, around the corner from that big Mass Fusion building," said Tony.

"Thanks. Got a place I can stay the night here?"

"Ten caps. Up the side there," Tony pointed. "Wait, is that your dog?" He gestured to Canigou.

"Yeah."

"Extra for the dog. Fifteen caps."

"Here's twenty," she handed him the caps. "Thanks for your help."

She headed up the ladder to the tiny room with no door. There was just a sleeping bag on the floor, but it was better than nothing. She laid out her own sleeping bag so Canigou could lie down. They soon fell asleep.

The next morning, she checked out the market which consisted of one trader and one resting caravan who claimed he was a doctor. Lillian opted not to buy anything right now. She felt she had what she needed already, and besides she needed the money to hire someone to help her.

She headed off across the bridge, looking at the tall buildings in Boston. She wondered how many of those are still sturdy. She could hear gunshots in the distance and hoped they wouldn't get closer. She really wanted to get to Goodneighbor and hire someone to help keep her safer.

When Lillian arrived at the front of the Mass Fusion building, she noticed a few people outside. They were wearing army fatigues, but they weren't the same kind as the Brotherhood. She approached cautiously.

"Excuse me," she called out, "Can you direct me to Goodneighbor?"

"Move along!" the man closest to her yelled back. The other two grasped their guns tighter and watched her carefully.

"I don't mean any trouble," Lillian held her hands up, "I just want to know where Goodneighbor is."

"Around the corner," the man said.

"Thanks," she said and headed in the direction he had indicated.

"Hey, where did you get that laser rifle?" one of the other men asked as she passed. Lillian was confused until she remembered she had strapped the laser rifle Paladin Danse had given her to the side of her backpack.

"Oh, um, I found it," she replied.

"Bullshit," he scoffed, "You don't just find laser rifles like that."

"Well, I found it on the body of a man I killed." She tried to sound confident but wasn't sure if it was working.

"Huh," the second man narrowed his eyes at her, "Thank you. Move along now."

Lillian walked quickly around the corner and saw the bright neon lights indicating the location of Goodneighbor. Subtle. Garbage and other debris was piled up outside the main gate. Disgusting. Does no one clean up after themselves any more? Well, she supposed not if it was down to cleaning up or trying to stay alive.

She entered the gate and was immediately accosted by a bald, rough-looking man. Her heart seemed to jump into her throat before she realised it was not the same bald man with a scar who had killed Nate and stolen Shaun.

"First time in Goodneighbor?" he lit a cigarette while eyeing her up and down. "Can't go walking around here without insurance."

"Insurance?" Lillian raised an eyebrow. Canigou growled at the man.

"Yeah, so just, uh, give me everything you got in them pockets," he said.

"Yeah, no," Lillian crossed her arms. She was terrified, but she wasn't about to show it. "Get fucked."

"You-"

"Whoa, whoa, time out," a raspy voice interrupted. Lillian watched as a man in old Revolutionary dress approached. But his face was... jesus, it was like those ghouls she had killed in Cambridge. But this man wasn't feral. What was he?

"Someone steps through the gate the first time, they're a guest."

"Why d'you care? She ain't one of us," the rough-looking man said. "You're getting soft, Hancock."

"What, no love for your mayor? Let me tell you something." Hancock moved closer to the man like he was going to speak to him quietly, but then took out a knife and stabbed him in the abdomen. Lillian gasped and jumped back. "You okay, sister?" He asked her.

"I... you're... you killed him!" her eyes went wide

"You must be a detective with observational skills like that," he laughed, "Had to be done. Finn's been pulling this shit for too long."

"But... he... your face..." Lillian's mind was reeling at an all-time high, trying to make sense of everything.

"Heh, like it? Gives me that sexy king of the zombies look," Hancock said, then noticed her confused look. "I'm a ghoul. But more than that, I'm the mayor of Goodneighbor. Anything goes here, so long as you remember who's in charge." He turned and headed into the Old State House, closely followed by a red-haired woman in metal armour.

Lillian was left feeling confused. She watched as a couple of men in dirty clothes crouched at Finn's body and started rifling through his pockets. She gave them a wide berth and headed towards the old storefronts. A bald man in sunglasses was leaning against the wall outside.

"Hey," he greeted her.

"Um, hi."

"What a day, huh?"

"Yeah, you could say that."

"Well, nothing more to say." He walked away. Lillian watched him disappear around the corner.

"You just going to stand there, or are you going to see what I have for sale?" a voice called from inside the store. Lillian turned and saw another ghoul, this time a woman, standing behind the counter.

"Oh, um, hi, how are you?" She said politely, but still feeling unsure as she entered the store.

"Well, look at you," the ghoul woman smiled, "Nice to have a friendly face around here. And you're not even screaming yet. Very polite."

"Wait, people scream at you?" Lillian asked even though she could understand why.

"Not used to ghouls," the woman sighed, "Can't blame them, I'd probably do the same thing."

"But... I thought ghouls were..." she stopped.

"Ah, you're talking about the feral ghouls. Their brains have been mostly destroyed by the radiation. But there are ghouls like myself and Mayor Hancock who still have our brain functions. Not nice to look at, I admit, but it's kept me alive for over 200 years."

"Wait, you're over 200 years old?"

"Okay, more like 250, but don't go blabbing to that to anyone," the ghoul woman said, "You have any idea what it's like being that old?"

"Yeah. Well, sort of."

"Hah, look at you! You're younger than I was when the bombs dropped."

"My family and I were in a vault. They put us in cryogenic stasis. I just got out last week."

"Wow. Well I don't envy you. I've had time to get used to all this. How are you coping?" the ghoul woman asked kindly.

"Barely. I came here to hire someone as an extra gun."

"Ah, well you want MacCready. He's the best around and down in the Third Rail. Oh, and I'm Daisy," she held out her hand. Lillian shook it, surprised at how it felt rough and soft at the same time.

"Lillian," she said. "Thanks."

"Before you go, care to buy something?" Daisy asked. Lillian obliged, figuring it was the least she could do. She bought a couple tins of dog food for Canigou then headed around to the Third Rail, which was the old subway station. Another ghoul welcomed her and she went downstairs.

A rusted Mr. Handy was behind the bar and a number of other people were drinking at tables and sofas around the main area. It looked like the subway tunnel had caved in on a train at one end. A woman in a red dress stepped up to a microphone on a small platform on the other end and started to sing. Lillian stayed where she was, happy to hear some live music. When the woman had finished her song, Lillian clapped then quickly stopped when she realised no one else was. Does no one appreciate good music anymore?

"You here for a drink, or looking for MacCready?" a woman sitting on a nearby sofa asked her.

"Both," Lillian replied.

"Drinks over there, MacCready's in the back," the woman thumbed towards a private room in the back.

Lillian thanked her and headed towards the room, stopping just outside when she overheard some men arguing. She leaned against the wall to wait and listen.

"Can't say I'm surprised to find you in a dump like this, MacCready."

"It's been almost three months. Don't tell me you're getting rusty."

"Word has it you're still taking jobs here in the Commonwealth. That isn't gonna work for us."

"In case you forgot, I left the Gunners for good. And I don't take orders from you anymore. So why don't you take your girlfriend and get the hell out of here while you still can."

"What? Winlock, don't tell me we have to listen to this shit."

"You can play the tough guy all you want, but if we hear you're still operating within Gunner territory, all bets are off."

"You finished?"

"Yeah, we're finished. Let's go, Barnes."

A moment later two men wearing the same type of fatigues as the ones outside of Mass Fusion passed her. They barely glanced at her as they headed out. She wondered if this was still a good idea. But she didn't have much choice. She entered the room and saw a young man sitting on a chair and quietly cursing to himself.

"Hi, you're MacCready, right?" she asked.

"Look, lady, if you're here to preach about Atom or looking for a friend, you've got the wrong guy," he looked up at her, "But if you need a hired gun, then we can talk."

"I do, but," she looked in the direction the other two men had left, "Why don't you tell me what's up with those guys first."

"Winlock and Barnes? Pfft. They couldn't hit a molerat with a rocket launcher if it was dead two feet in front of them."

"They won't be a problem later?"

"Nah. Now what about you? How do I know I won't end up with a bullet in my back?" he narrowed his eyes at her.

"You don't. All part of the risk, right?" she narrowed her eyes back. No way she was going to let him get the upper hand.

"Got that right," he stood up. "Price is 250 caps up front. No room for bargaining."

"Everything's negotiable," Lillian tried not to let it on that she didn't have 250 caps. "Would you take 100? And we split everything we earn on jobs 60/40 to you."

"Make that 75/25."

"65/35."

He thought hard then nodded. "You drive a hard bargain, but you got yourself an extra gun." She handed over the caps and he pulled out a pack from behind the dresser. "Lead on, boss."

"You can just call me Lillian," she held her hand out to him.

"MacCready," he shook her hand, "But you already knew that. This your dog?"

"He is now," she said, "His name is Canigou."

"Weird name for a dog."

"I suppose. Named him after my great-grandfather's dog. And he named his dog after a mountain in France."

"Huh."

"First stop, drinks. I need one." Lillian and MacCready went over to the bar, ordered a couple of beers, and sat at a table in the corner.

"So what's the plan?" MacCready asked.

"Well, I suppose the plan right now is to find work," she sighed, "I need to hire a detective and if they charge as much as you, I'm going to need more caps."

"Sure thing," he took a drink. "Hancock might know of something. Let's go see him when we're done here."

They finished up their beers and headed up to the Old State House. Upon entering, Lillian paused to look around. She hadn't been there since high school on a field trip. It was far more dirtier now, but the spiral staircase was still standing. MacCready led the way upstairs to a large room where Hancock was arranging some inhalers of Jet around on a coffee table.

"Well, look who it is," he greeted Lillian, "And with none other than MacCready. So what can I do for our newcomer?"

"We're looking for work," she replied.

"Work, huh?" Hancock paused in thought. "Tell you what, I have reconnaissance needs. There's a lot of weird talk coming out of a place called the Pickman Gallery. It's Raider territory there, but it's been quiet. Like, uncomfortable post-coitus quiet? Go snoop around and see what you can find."

"Sure thing," said Lillian. She dreaded what was going to be waiting for them, but at least she had someone with her this time. They headed out of the State House.

"I've seen some dead Raiders with a weird calling card on them," said MacCready, "It's creepy. Maybe it's the same thing."

"Oh great," said Lillian, "Couldn't he have had an easier job like needing his car washed or his lawn mowed?"

"But.. Hancock doesn't have a car," said MacCready, confused, not getting the joke, "No one does."

"Never mind," Lillian smiled to herself. "Wait," she suddenly grabbed MacCready's arm, "I don't want to kill anyone."

"Well you could've mentioned that before," MacCready exasperated, "How'd you even get this far anyway?"

"It's a long story," Lillian kept her eyes down, "It's just... I'd rather not."

"Fine," MacCready sighed, "I'll take point, but you cover me. If you have to, aim to disarm. I'll take care of the rest." He mumbled something under his breath.

Lillian could tell MacCready was deeply annoyed, but didn't say anything further. They walked in silence to the Pickman Gallery where Raiders were milling about outside.

"Hold up," he said quietly, crouching. Lillian crouched behind him and watched as he armed his sniper rifle and aimed at the Raiders. She plugged her ears as he shot them down before they could figure out where the shots were coming from.

"Damn," she said when he shot the last Raider.

"Impressed yet?" he turned and grinned at her.

"Very impressed," she replied, "You've obviously been doing this for a long time."

"Ever since I was a kid. Figured it was better to be further away from my targets."

"Yeah, I could never get the hang of using a sniper on moving targets. But if we're ever attacked by stationery paper targets, I got it covered."

"Heh, well I could help you out there," he said. "You can't always rely on that pistol." He pointed at the pistol in her handmade holster.

"That's what Paladin Danse said," she said, looking down at her gun.

"Paladin? You mean, there's Brotherhood of Steel around here?" he raised his eyebrows. "They're good to have around, but... just be careful."

"Why?"

"Well, they're not exactly into helping others, you know? Maybe ten years ago they were more into goodwill in the Capital Wasteland, but now with that Maxson guy in charge, it's all Brotherhood first."

"I mean, taking care of the troops is a priority. Can't protect others if they can't protect themselves."

"Yeah, but I mean it's Brotherhood first, second, and third. Maybe they'll consider helping others but only if it benefits them."

"Oh," she said, "Well, they didn't seem too bad. I mean, I only met three of them. They desperately needed help."

"Huh, must be on some sort of recon or something."

"Yeah, that's what they said." She watched as MacCready checked the pockets of the Raiders he killed and took the ammo from their guns. "So, is it a bad thing then that I joined?"

"You did?" he raised his eyebrows at her, "And they let you leave?"

"Well, yeah. I told them my priority was to find my son and I wasn't going to just sit around."

"Damn, so that's why you need a detective." They approached the door to Pickman Gallery. "Anyway, let's talk more later. There are probably more Raiders in there so just be prepared." MacCready quietly opened the door a crack, looked in, and turned to Lillian. "There's a few down the hallway. Want me to take them out?"

"No," she said, "Let me talk to them."

"Are you crazy?"

"Let me try! Is there a spot you can hide? At least keep me covered." MacCready nodded. "Okay, let's go in quietly and I'll wait until you're hidden. Canigou, stay here. Guard." Canigou woofed quietly and sat to the side. They crept in and MacCready hid behind a cabinet in the hall. Lillian took a deep breath and called out to the Raiders at the end of the hall. "Um, hello? Please don't shoot!"

"What the fuck?" one of the Raiders aimed his shotgun at her. "Who are you? I'll fucking kill you!"

"Whoa, whoa!" Lillian held her hands up to show she was unarmed, "I don't want any trouble. I only want to know what's going on in this place and then I'll leave."

"This Pickman asshole's been killing our people for his fucking art," another Raider said, "We're here to make sure this shit stops."

"Killing for art? What do you mean?"

"Have a look in that room there," the first Raider indicated the room to Lillian's left. She looked in and immediately vomited. MacCready rushed out of hiding to her. "What the fuck, she brought backup!" The Raider shot at them, but MacCready had pushed her into the room and shot back at the Raiders. After a bit, everything went quiet.

"Ugh, I'm so sorry," Lillian said. She had kept her eyes closed and her hand over her mouth and nose when MacCready had pushed her into the room. He finally had a moment to look.

"It's not your fault," he said, "This place is disgusting."

"It smells so bad," Lillian gagged a little and went back to the hallway.

"Hold on, I see something over there," MacCready went further into the room and returned with a holotape. "Here, see what this says."

Lillian put the holotape in her Pip-boy. The voice of a horrified man started to speak.

"Seth, it's me. I found out what happened to the scouts that went missing up near the old art gallery. They're... they're dead. I'm looking at a- a goddamn painting of Kyle's body! Oh god, what the hell did they do to him?"

A sinister humming interrupted the man.

"Who the hell's there?"

"Admiring my collection?" a cheerful man's voice came through. "I'm afraid it's not complete yet. Soon, though."

"You.. stay away from me, you psycho!" the first man yelled.

"Yes, just like that. Hold that expression on your face."

The holotape clicked off.

"Jesus," said MacCready, "Well, I think we have everything we need. I'd rather not meet this Pickman guy."

"Me neither, let's head back." Lillian wasted no time in leaving. While the air outside was slightly bitter, she breathed it in deeply, happy to be away from the festering flesh and blood in the gallery. She pet Canigou who was sniffing at her and they headed back to Goodneighbor.

"So what's the story with the Pickman place?" Hancock asked as Lillian and MacCready walked in.

"Ugh, he was using corpses for his... art," Lillian looked disgusted.

"Seriously?" Hancock's eyes widened, "Shit, that's messed up. I'll spread the word to avoid that area. Here, you definitely earned this." He handed over a pouch of caps. "And how about a little pick-me-up? I've got some Jet here, good stuff."

"Um, I'll pass today, thanks," Lillian said as she and MacCready headed out of the State House. "So is there somewhere to stay here for the night?"

"Hotel Rexford," MacCready led her around the State House to the hotel. "It's quiet most nights."

"Most nights?"

"Well, sometimes there are people who offer their... services, if you get my meaning."

"Like what? Oh. OH. Okay," Lillian realised. "Are you okay with sharing a room? It'll be cheaper."

"So long as we keep things strictly professional," he insisted.

"Of course." They checked into the Hotel Rexford and headed up to their room. When they reached the hallway, a ghoul in a yellow fedora and trench coat left his room.

"Wha- how- it's... it's you!" the ghoul stammered, "From Sanctuary Hills, right?"

"Yeah, how did- wait, are you from Vault-Tec?" Lillian was shocked, now seeing in her mind that cheerful salesman who had rung her doorbell that fateful morning.

"I AM Vault-Tec. Twenty years of service and I wasn't even on the list to get in," he said sullenly.

Lillian felt herself overcome with anger. "You asshole!" She slapped him hard across the face. "You ruined my life!"

"I ruined your life? Ooohhh, poor you. Look at me! I spent over 200 years looking like this! I'm a freak! But you! How are you still so perfect?"

"Wait, you didn't know?"

"Know what?"

"The vault had these pods that froze us in place," Lillian said, "I only got out recently. I was... I was the only one."

"What?" The Vault-Tec rep looked horrified, "Vault-Tec never me that! That's... that's... " He sighed sadly. "You know, you're the only person I've met from before. I've just been so alone here. No one wants a ghoul with over 200 years of sales experience."

"I'm... I'm sorry," said Lillian, "If you want somewhere else to stay, you could head back to Sanctuary."

"What, with your crazy robot?" the Vault-Tec rep scoffed, "You know, I stayed there for about a year after the bombs dropped. But I couldn't take his incessant cheerfulness anymore."

"Well, there should be some other people there now. And I'll come visit, I promise."

"You will? Really?"

"Yes, I don't know when, but I'll get there as soon as I can."

"Okay! I'll head there first thing in the morning!" The Vault-Tec rep's face was glowing with happiness.

"I'll see you there," said Lillian, "Oh, and sorry for slapping you."

"No harm done. See you in Sanctuary!" The Vault-Tec rep returned to his room.

"What the hell was that about?" MacCready asked when they entered their room.

Lillian tossed her pack onto the floor, sat on the edge of the bed, and explained about the vault, the cryo pods, and the murder-kidnapping.

"Damn, you're like something out of a comic book," MacCready's eyes widened.

"Only this is real," she sighed. "Anyway, let's get some sleep. We can share the bed, if you want."

"Sounds good. Strictly professional, right?"

"Of course."