Chapter 7: A Father's Love

James stood outside the director's white door with a backpack slung over his shoulder. His vault suit was singed and torn in places with red stains that were slowly turning brown. The whites of his eyes were bloodshot and faint tear stains cut through the grim on the face. He raised his hand and knocked. There were sounds of movement before the door opened. Before Shaun could inquire, James grimly stated,

"It's done."

Shaun broke out into a relieved smile before hugging his father. James hugged back and rested his head on his son's shoulder, pressing his eyes close to fight back tears. He took a shaky breath before asking. "I did right thing. Right?" Shaun rubbed his back reassuringly.

"Of course you did Thanks to you, the Institute is safe. I'm safe." Shaun looked James in the eyes. "No more pain, no more loss. We can build the Institute together, where it's safe." This earned him a weak smile and nod. Shaun gestured for him to come in and sit. Slouching in a pristine chair, James pulled out a dusty bottle of scotch and a pair of chipped glasses.

"I.. I thought we could drink to celebrate our victory. It's probably not as good as whatever you guys make here but.." James trailed off. He looked from the glasses to his son, who was still smiling. Taking a seat across from him, Shaun poured the drinks. Raising his cup, he said

"To the Institute and my father, who will go to hell and back for his child." They clinked their glasses and took a sip. James leaned back in his chair with a thoughtful expression. Shaun coughed and sputtered as the drink went down which earned him a snort of amused from his guest. "They used to say scotch was better when aged. Clearly, who ever said never tasted 200 year old irradiated scotch."

This comment brought forth a laugh. "Come on, Son, it's not that bad. Hell, this is quality stuff by Commonwealth standards. Unopened and hardly any radiation." His son forced a smile.

"Yes, I see now. The hint of radiation pairs nicely with the dissolved flesh in my mouth. Truly an expert selection." James smiled and poured another round.

"I see you inherited by sarcasm. I knew it was genetic." Another round clinked and downed.

"It's a small wonder it wasn't passed on to the synths." Quipped Shaun. The comment was followed by a round of harsh coughing which James frowned at.

"Do you want me to go get Doctor Volkert?"

Shaun leaned back in his chair. "I appreciate the offer, but no, there's not much he could do." Looking at James, he sighed. "If I was a betting man, I'd wager I won't be living much longer." He held up a hand to stop James' response. "There's no use trying to sugarcoat it. The cancer's progression is much faster then we had expected. This leads me to my next topic." He got out of his chair and walked over to his terminal. James followed behind him. "Since you're going to be the next director, it is about time you learned about what comes with the job. They sat in front of the glowing terminal and Shaun typed in his password. "I hadn't shown you this before because I wasn't sure of your loyalty. Your actions, however, proved your loyalty without a doubt." He motioned at the screen. "This will grant you complete control over the synths and the Institute. It holds all the records of research, allows you to look at cameras all over the facilities, and allow you to give orders remotely. Helpful for when you don't feeling with the day's politics. I've also made it compatible with your pipboy. I can't really envision you sitting behind a desk all day."

James put his arm his son. "This is incredible, thank you. I promise I'll make you proud."

"I know you will." Another hacking cough shook his body. "It's getting late and from the looks of it some sleep would do you good." James nodded and got up.

"Do you want me to leave the scotch?"

"God no! I appreciate the kind thought, but that scotch is awful. It would find better use as rodent poison." exclaimed Shaun. James shrugged and packed the glasses and bottle away in his backpack.

"Suit yourself. More for me then!"

With those parting, James left for his own room in the Institute. Upon entering his quarters, he locked the door and sprinted over to the bathroom. Shoving a couple fingers down his throat, he expelled the contents of his stomach in the toilet. Grabbing a stimpack from first-aid kit, he injected it into a vein in his arm. He stripped himself of his vault suit and entered the shower. As warm water rained down on him, he chuckled softly and reflected on the events of the past 48 hours. It had been a very productive two days.

Deacon groaned as he awoke to a pounding headache and an overwhelming sense of nausea. It took him a moment to remember, but the memories came rushing back to him. Planting the mines, joking with James, a heartfelt hug, and then betrayal. Confessing that he had been working with the Institute. His friend has tried to kill him. Thought of it made Deacon's blood boil. "I've never should have trusted him." He grumbled darkly to himself

"Regretting the hangover?"

Deacon's head shot up off the mattress. A move which he immediately wanted to take back as the room spun around him. Looking up, he saw Glory smirking. She bent down and handed him a bottle of water and a syringe of med-x. "When you're done plotting your revenge against our generous benefactor, come on out. Charmer has really outdone himself. You were right, Deacon, he came through for us." With that, she left the room leaving Deacon to his own thoughts and confusion.