Faraday gets antsy under questioning and, interestingly, DiMA swoops in to his rescue. "I hope everything is well here. Have you devised a way to reach the Nucleus yet?"

So Kaelyn and Valentine switch to Plan B.

Faraday sits in front of one of the terminal bays in the telescope room, tinkering with his new storage drives. Chase has disappeared up the stairs to the very top of the observatory, presumably for the view. While Valentine wanders into DiMA's abode, Kaelyn enters the clinic. Since Derrick has been given a clean bill of health he's been helping out Faraday because he is gentle, without the sleek movements that mark Chase as a predator, but the room is empty. She doesn't even need a stealth boy to slip in undetected.

Her pip-boy, set to the lowest possible volume, relays the sound it detects from the tiny receiver clipped in Valentine's coat. Having someone as mechanically gifted as Kasumi, who can find or create a contraption on the fly, is an unexpected boon. Kaelyn keeps an ear out for the emergency phrase—a warning that someone is moving downstairs as well as a last ditch effort at distraction on Valentine's part.

While she's hacked a number of terminals in recent months, she's never spied on an ally like this before, and she has to wonder at the relative morality of breaking into someone's private terminal even if her intention is to help Jule. This was once handled by search warrants, but Valentine doesn't seem as bothered by the breach of privacy. While she trusts his judgment, she doesn't share his certainty they're justified.

DiMA's dreamy voice, even small and tinny, carries the weight of his contemplations. "What do you think of Acadia, Nick?"

"Well, living in a scientific observatory wouldn't exactly be high on my list of comfortable spots. At least that Fog is far enough below."

Despite the situation, Kaelyn allows herself a thin smile. Nick Valentine, my city boy to the end. She resumes typing. The password is to deter casual snooping, not a dedicated hacker.

"I was talking more about our ideals. Synths as their own way of life. Not hiding from what they are."

"Kind of easy for you to say that, though, isn't it? You and I, we can't pretend to be anything else."

The terminal finally accepts the password she feeds it. A brief glance at Faraday's current projects confirms there's nothing on Victoria; Kaelyn forces her eyes to blur over the logs and backs out. Despite being in the middle of raiding his private terminal, she doesn't want to invade his privacy any more than she already has. She skims the past projects and ends up in a series of medical logs.

"That just means we're in the perfect position to help our kind. We can be the example in the face of adversity."

"I'm not looking to be anyone's example. You help who needs help. It doesn't have to be more then that."

Kaelyn's hands still. Sentences jump out of one entry:

Subject V5 brought in after incident during boat travel...

Severe trauma to head and upper torso; cognitive functions impaired...

Objectively, there was no choice. She'd suffered so much damage. But this was our friend and we wiped her memory without her consent.

"So," Valentine's voice hits the tinny edges of the radio's playback range."Can you tell me why this blasted Fog comes and goes?"

The warning phrase.

Kaelyn logs out, checks there are no signs of tampering, and turns off the radio. She switches on her stealth boy just in case. Easing the door open a crack, she checks the corridor. Soft footsteps echo nearby, but the coast is clear. For now. She's just closed the clinic door when Nazeem rounds the corner. Praying the corridor is too dark to spot the tell-tale ripple in the air, Kaelyn backs up, timing her steps to Nazeem's, praying he can't hear her heartbeat.

Nazeem stops in the middle of the corridor, peering into Cog's room.

Now level with the corner, Kaelyn sidesteps around it. She backs up a few more steps, deactivates her stealth boy and climbs the stairs two at a time until she reaches the next level, then walks more normally—and loudly. The back of her neck prickles, but Kaelyn fights every urge to look over shoulder to check if anyone is following her. She enters the telescope room, leaning against the doorway.

DiMA's eyes flit to her, attracted by the movement. His smile, she notices, while genuine, is a touch stiff without showing his teeth. "Ah. Welcome again. Nick and I were just discussing the Fog, among the philosophical quandaries of how synths are forced live."

Kaelyn laces her hands over her stomach. "This is your preferred small talk, gentlemen?"

DiMA chuckles. "When one has all the time to ponder, it's easy to become preoccupied with difficult questions."

She wonders. How can DiMA, with his gentle heart, with his protests against the Railroad's methods, permit Victoria's memory wipe?

Maybe Kaelyn can hide her tells from one old synth, but not from the other. They make it down one set of stairs before Valentine pulls her into a storage closet. He searches her face. "What did you find?"

Kaelyn closes her eyes. "Jule knew about the boat and had the key because she's Victoria. She was so badly injured in the crash that wiping her memory was the only way to reverse the damage. Faraday saved her life, but..."

Behind her eyes, she sees Jule huddling in the basement, beset by another migraine, her memories broken.

"They did this to her? Figured it was Amari who botched the job on Jule. Should have known better than to doubt her."

Speaking of. "Do you think Amari could help Jule?"

"It would be a long shot at best, but Amari specializes in those."

Since Cog asked Kaelyn come to him before talking to Jule, that's what she does, laying out the journal, the key, and her account of Faraday's medical log.

Cog runs a hand through his messy black hair, then tightens it into a fist. His breath escapes him in one noisy gust. "We can't tell Jule. Is it messed they'd do this to one of us? Yes. But if this gets out it'll not only crush her but it could ruin this whole little fake utopia everyone has going."

Valentine asks, "You think Jule doesn't have the right to know her own history?"

Cog snorts. "She has the right to be happy, too. The honesty policy is bullshit. What do you think this will do to her? To everyone here?"

Kaelyn sighs. "I don't know, Cog. I really don't."

"Shit. Shit. You want to tell her? Fine. It's on your head."

Kaelyn still hasn't decided when she finds Jule sitting on a lumpy couch in the common room, pressing the heel of her palm to her forehead. Anxiety caused another flare up, and now she grits her teeth against every background noise. Kaelyn wonders if she even suspects that the broken dreams were something more—if that, more than confiding in Kaelyn, is what triggered another bout of pain.

It seems the past can still haunt someone whether she recognizes its face or not.

For a moment, Kaelyn wonders what she would look like if she couldn't remember her old life, or Vault 111, or all that came after. Would she be caught in limbo, always wondering?

No matter the absurdity of it, she can't shake the thought.

This place is supposed to be a refuge for synths. And Cog's right, the people might panic if word gets out, and Derrick showed it's too dangerous for them to be wandering the island. But Jule asked for help. Dammit, I don't want to hurt her or anyone else here.

Sometimes good intentions aren't enough. Not DiMA's, and not Kaelyn's.

Jule's eyes widen when she takes in Kaelyn. Her fingers clutch the sleeves of her jacket so tightly her fingernails are white. "Oh shit. What? What? You found something. I can tell. Shit!"

Swallowing her misgivings, Kaelyn folds her hands over her stomach. "Jule. The key opens a steamer trunk—one I found in the shipwreck. The boat from your dreams was the same one that crashed. You were the one who sailed it."

"If all this stupid mess is mine, why don't I remember it?" There's no mistaking her bared teeth for a smile.

In these last moments, Kaelyn can watch the truth careen towards Jule, mere seconds until impact. She wants to close her eyes, look away from the imminent crash, but Jule deserves better. "You were injured in the shipwreck. Faraday saved your life. But to do that, he—had to wipe your memory."

At first, Jule's face doesn't change at all. Then she murmurs, "Somehow, I always knew it. That these people who call themselves my friends—" Now her voice climbs and keep climbing: "They— who gives them the right to decide I don't get to be me anymore?!"

By this point they've attracted an audience. Kaelyn pierces them with a glare, one by one, until they move along.

"I didn't ask for any of this. Shit, this place is the same as anywhere else. You just get screwed over no matter what. I'm done." The manic glint is back in her eye. "I quit! You know what the best part of all this is? I have nowhere else to go!"

Kaelyn keeps her voice steady, grasping at the threads of calm that might pull Jule back from the edge."Jule. If you make it back to the Commonwealth, the Railroad can help you. Or you could find a settlement that's looking for new hands. I don't want to make any promises, but the Railroad may be able to help with the migraines." If anyone can treat the problem, it would be Amari. She's had practice with peculiar cases.

"Fuck that! No one else is getting into my head!"

Kaelyn spreads her hands. "That's completely fair, and your call to make. My point is, you have options."

Jule scoffs. She darts down the stairs, presumably to her hiding place, snapping at Nazeem along the way. Dinner with Acadia's residents that night is a mixture of awkward silences and attempts to pry the story from Kaelyn. By now word has gotten around that something happened with Jule. It may be the flickering lamplight, but it seems like Cog's jaw is clenched tight even when he shrugs casually, deflecting the questions directed at him. Kaelyn has to look away.

Kasumi's reputation for being introverted saves Kaelyn. When she emerges from the basement, wiping grease from her hands, they pick a couch away from the main group to finish their meals in peace. While Acadia shares Far Harbor's basic seafood fare, the crops they have been able to grow on the mountain dramatically change the quality from edible to decent.

Kasumi activates a small mechanical device and sets it on the couch between them. "A sound dampener Grandfather— my caretaker's father showed me how to build. If it works, that should make it difficult for anyone to eavesdrop."

In between mouthfuls of stew, Kaelyn fills her in on Victoria and Jule.

"That's just— I mean, Faraday and DiMA wanted to save her life and that's good, but look at her. She's in constant pain. It can't be right that they wiped away her memories without asking her! Who does that?"

"The Institute," Kaelyn answers by rote. "The Railroad does too, but only with a synth's consent."

Kasumi shivers and draws her knees up to her chest. "I've only heard rumors about the Railroad. People here have mixed opinions on them."

Kaelyn can't help the defensive note in her tone. "The Railroad does what they can with what little they have. Without their sacrifices, the Institute would still be a threat."

Resting her chin on her knees, Kasumi asks, "Why would the Railroad wipe a synth's memories?"

"It's offered to synths, along with facial reconstruction, so they can blend in among humans more easily. There's so much to learn about the Wasteland and stumbling clueless around the Commonwealth can easily get you killed. But it's optional."

Kasumi is quiet, her gaze distant. "And the Institute?"

She closes her eyes. "Synths deemed 'faulty'—like those who show too much personality—were wiped to keep them pliant." Kaelyn spots movement in her peripheral, her gut clenching. As her fingers twitch on Deliverer's grip, she recognizes the figure as Jule slinking along the wall, hiding behind crates where she can. Kaelyn forces herself to relax and pretends to ignore Jule.

Until there's a psst from behind the couch.

Glancing over her shoulder, Kaelyn murmurs, "Is there anything I can do, Jule?"

Jule giggles. "You said I had options, right? And shit, this is stupid, but what else can I do? You said you can take me off this island. If you screw me over too, well, it can't be worse than this."

Kaelyn doesn't waste her breath on assurances Jule won't believe. "If that's what you want, then yes. We can leave tomorrow. Head to Far Harbor while we arrange transport to the Commonwealth. From there you can find the Railroad or make your own way."

The next morning, Jule says her goodbyes, which encompass Cog and no one else. But there's no getting out the front door without alerting DiMA. Faraday stands beside him. When Jule refuses to even look at Faraday, his gaze turns to Kaelyn, full of censure.

"I regret that you feel the need to leave, Jule," DiMA says. "Know that you will always be welcome in Acadia if you change your mind. Please be safe out there."

Jule scuffs her sneakers on the ground. "Yeah, well, let's just get this over with."

On the way out, Kaelyn meets Chase's eye, and they share nod. She keeps it to herself when she notices a black-coat shadow slink out of Acadia's car park after them. The road is quiet and the Fog is rolling. Kaelyn takes the lead—she had contemplated giving her power armor to Jule for protection, but Valentine had reminded her exactly who is and isn't Fog proof. Still, they make it to Far Harbor with only a few teeth marks chipping the paint job on the armor.

Kaelyn parks her power armor in a bay the Mariner lets her use, then loosens the knots securing Victoria's steamer trunk to her armored back. "The diary, the trunk and everything inside it— it was Victoria's. Yours, if you want it."

Jules laughs. "Great! What good is a trunk full of trinkets and a book when my head is killing me?!"

Walking through The Last Plank and its drunk patrons with a heavy trunk under Kaelyn's arm is like throwing a bowling ball but hoping it doesn't hit any pins. But she does notice Valentine spending a moment too long watching her biceps flex, and that sends a skitter of warmth through her belly.

After getting Jule settled—and thanking her lucky stars motel rooms aren't nearly as expensive as they used to be—Kaelyn drops into a seat beside Valentine in the common room. She pinches the bridge of her nose and draws in a thin breath. "I did not make any friends today."

Valentine rests his hand on the back of her neck, keeping her jacket collar up so the cold metal doesn't touch her skin. She leans into his touch and pretends it's solely because she's had a hard day. "I don't think I need to tell you that justice is more important than friends. Jule had a right to the truth. All the good intentions in the world can't outweigh bad methods."

Kaelyn presses her forehead into one palm. Shaun's lined, weary face flashes across her mind and she cringes. Valentine retracts his hand.

She wants to tell him, no, it wasn't him, but the words won't come. So she sighs instead. "And learning the truth broke her. Can't say I wish that on anyone else." Kaelyn shivers, drawing her jacket more tightly around herself. "After seeing all this, I feel the need to state that if I'm ever so badly injured the only way to fix me is to erase my memories, just let me go."

Valentine lifts an eyebrow—or rather, his face shifts in the human expression even though he has no hair on his face. "Getting your will in order?"

"Nick, please."

He presses his lips into a tense line, eyes darting over her face. Several moments drip in the distance before he can say, "I hear ya, doll. If... if it ever comes to that, I'll keep with your wishes."

A short exhale. "Thank you. That said, I'm human. I don't know if it would ever work like that for me but— I'm just covering my bases here." No matter the voice in the back of her head suggesting she stay here, lean against Valentine's side and let him tell her it'll be all right, she can't bring herself to drop the burden. She rises to her feet. "I need to get a message to the Railroad."

Captain Avery has a long-range radio she even allows Kaelyn to borrow without charge. Kaelyn watches the ultramarine-gray ocean out the window while Avery climbs the stairs to give her a measure of privacy. It takes almost ten minutes to find the right frequency and clean up the white noise, then another twenty before her intended recipient tunes in. "Hey, Ellie. This is Kaelyn. Don't panic, Nick's fine. I was hoping you could do me a favor?"

"Good to hear your voice. It's one of those drawn-out cases, isn't it? What do you need?"

"I'm not certain we aren't being eavesdropped, so pardon the cryptic message: can you ask Piper to find what's at the end of the Freedom Trail and tell them there's a package ready to be picked up from Far Harbor? And if they're nice, Kenji might lend them a boat."

"I'll let Piper know. Say hi to Nick for me, and remind him to wash his fedora once in a while. He might not sweat, but that doesn't mean he doesn't need to do his laundry like everyone else."

Kaelyn almost smiles. "I'll pass the message along. Thanks, Ellie."

Kaelyn and the Mariner are going over the details of the newest Hull upgrades in the lamplight when there's a call of boat incoming! Making her way to the jetty, Kaelyn meets Valentine halfway; they watch the small boat ease up to the pier and toss a rope out to the mooring. Captain Avery secures it while Allen just scowls and cocks his assault rifle.

Valentine says, "Looks like Allen's rolling out the welcome wagon. Let's go before someone gets shot."

Who else steps off the boat but Deacon. The man is wigless today, his bald head covered by a thick beanie, and layered in several brine-stinking jackets as well as a parka.

"More mainlanders?" Allen's about to spit, but a sharp look from Avery stops him.

Deacon spreads his arms. "I can tell from the warm reception that you haven't sent a postcard because you're having too much fun out here!"

Avery looks from Deacon to Kaelyn to Valentine. "I take it you know each other?"

Kaelyn says, "Don't worry, Captain. He won't be staying long. I needed a few things from home and Deacon was up for a road trip."

"Have you seen any roads on the ocean, my friend? Because I sure haven't. But I brought the teddy bear you asked for." Hefting a lumpy bag over his shoulder, he adds, "I hope you're buying me dinner for this. Your crap weighs a ton."

Satisfied—or possibly dissatisfied—Deacon isn't a threat, Allen stomps back to his store.

Avery says, "I'd say welcome to Far Harbor, but you've arrived at a delicate time. Your friends can give you the details, but know that while Harborfolk aren't big on hospitality, you're free to stay as long as you don't cause trouble."

Deacon gives her a winning smile. "Me? Trouble? Never."

Kaelyn has to disguise her snort as a cough, covering her mouth with her hand to conceal the smile that trembles on her lips. Avery pins Deacon with a final look, then returns to the wall with her hunting rifle slung over one shoulder.

Turning to Kaelyn and Valentine, Deacon cocks an eyebrow. "Did you miss me? You did, didn't you?"

"Sure, we missed you real bad when we needed someone to play bait for a fog crawler," Valentine says, but there's a warmth to it as his lips tug up at the corners. Kaelyn may or may not be distracted by his smile.

"Mr Valentine, you flatter me." But while Deacon's returning smirk remains firmly in place, he watches Kaelyn out of the corner of his eye.

Upon entering The Last Plank, Mitch bequeaths Deacon with a free beer and they find a quiet corner where they won't be overheard. From a glance, most of the patrons aren't on their first round, but Kaelyn finds the loudest song in the jukebox for added insurance. The grimy windows behind Deacon's head offer an unexpectedly accurate portrayal of the dusk outside: hazy blobs of crosshatched gray that fade to blue.

Under the table, Deacon nudges his bag against Kaelyn's leg. Lifting the flap, she finds a stash of fusion cores, rad-x and radaway, a pouch of caps, and clothes for Jule.

Leaning his elbow on the table and resting his chin in his hand, Deacon asks, "So what's the scoop?"

Kaelyn says, "Synths have formed a colony here up in the old observatory. Acadia."

"Sweet digs. Do you think we could make contact with them, maybe send some packages their way?"

Kaelyn cuts a hand through the air. "Hold that thought. The island is unstable right now. The Children of Atom and Far Harbor are at each other's throats. As for Acadia—well, things are a little complicated right now."

Deacon raises an eyebrow. "That's not a ringing endorsement."

"Long story short, the reason I asked you here was to get Jule off the island. She was grievously injured in an accident and Faraday, the doctor, he— he wiped her memory without her consent. He saved her life, but botched the mem job and now Jule suffers from chronic head pain."

Deacon whistles. "Heavy."

They trade gossip over salty mirelurk stew, learning that the Railroad are as overworked as ever tracking down lost synths, but have had only a few run-ins with Institute survivors. During Kaelyn's turn to share, Deacon is particularly entertained by the robobrain elite in Vault 118. When Valentine fills him in on DiMA and their possible relation, he claps Valentine on the arm and suggests showing DiMA the agency.

Valentine shakes his head, looking rather shell-shocked. "That's putting the cart before the horse. Give a man room to get used to the idea first."

With few rooms to spare in the inn, Kaelyn and Deacon lie back-to-back in one of the rickety beds. At least tonight she doesn't have to worry about needing extra blankets; he's always better than a hot water bottle. If Deacon actually sleeps she doesn't know, even though she hardly has a restful night herself. In the morning, Kaelyn knocks on Jule's door while Deacon waits behind her shoulder. A quick, quiet rap.

Muffled, but audible: "What the fuck do you want?"

"Jule, there's someone here to meet you. It's time to go."

After several dragging moments, the door opens. Jule peeps around the jam.

Deacon gives her one of his winning smiles. "Hi, I'm Deacon. I'll be your chauffeur and captain on our voyage today."

She blinks, the corners of her eyes scored from pain and fatigue. "Right. Let's just get on with it."

After a quiet breakfast, Kaelyn and Valentine see them off at the docks. The streets—or jetties, rather—are dead in a way they aren't at night. Only a lone disgruntled sentinel sits atop the Hull. While the sky is shrouded, the clouds burn molten silver through cracks in the gray near the horizon.

Jule raises an arm to shield her eyes from the glare, an unfriendly giggle bursting on her lips. "Great. Just great. This is going to be great."

"Here. If you've got a headache, these might help." Deacon hands her a spare pair of sunglasses.

While she gives him a sharp look, she puts the glasses on nevertheless.

At the boat, Kaelyn says, "Stay safe, Jule, and best of luck out there. For whatever it's worth, I'm sorry it came to this."

"Yeah. Thanks. I guess." And with that, Jule steps into the boat, stumbling as the hull bobs in the water.

Before Deacon can follow, Kaelyn catches his arm. "Take care of her."

"No sweat." In a rare display of affection, Deacon touches her shoulder in return. "You better take care of yourself, too. We still have to start our band. Don't you want your own groupies?"

She can feel the weight of his gaze through his sunglasses. "You drive a hard bargain." But she reaches up to squeeze his fingers, earning a smile before he lets go.

Kaelyn and Valentine stand side by side on the pier, watching the boat's frothy white trail as it sets south. The morning gale tears a shudder from her hide, and she leans into Valentine's side. His arm comes around her, rubbing her back to generate friction.

He rumbles, "Another problem to strike off the list. Now we need to finish preparing and find the Children of Atom. Whatever's in DiMA's memories isn't something we can wait for someone else to find."

Aside from the multitude of mini disasters that have cropped up since they arrived, they also wanted time to learn the island before venturing into the Deep Fog. Kaelyn sighs, but it does nothing to ease the throbbing in her temples. "Can't say I'm looking forward to mingling with them. If they can turn the Great War—the deaths of millions, maybe billions of people—into a thing to be worshiped, who knows what else they get up to."

What was it Piper had said once? In one of her lively tales about the perils of investigative journalism, she'd found a cabal of Children in the sewers under Bunker Hill and been captured. On the verge of being executed, she'd shouted: Atom! He reveals Himself!

And the Children had bought it.

"I know how I'm going to get in. I just need a good dose of rad-x beforehand."

Valentine's chin rests against her temple. "I'm not sure I like DiMA's plan."

She weasels an arm under his trench coat and around his waist. She'd forgotten how something like this feels. "It's not the plan you don't like, Nick. It's that you know you can't come with me inside." Anything that can resist radiation is a 'perversion', according to the missionary they'd found wandering the forest. She and Valentine have already argued it out.

He shifts his weight. "You have me there."

Kaelyn leans back enough to see Valentine's face, puts on a smile. "Come on. With my track record, why are you worried?"

It doesn't ease the crinkles around his eyes. If anything, it deepens them. And for a moment she wonders if it's a holdover from the original Nick, that he can contorts his expression in a flawless mimicry of human emotion. She wonders if DiMA has picked up the intricacies of human expression as part of his 'learning by experience' directive. Valentine presses his lips together in a thin line. "It's a sign of affection, doll."

"Nick—" Kaelyn twists to face him as he turns his head to meet her eyes and somehow they end up with their bodies flush against each other, mere heartbeats away, his belt buckle pressing into her stomach. Her hands flutter to rest on his shoulders.

Valentine's eyes dart between hers, then his gaze drops to her mouth. He shifts as if about to swoop down, then pulls back.

So she takes matters into her own hands. "Nick, I'd like to kiss you."

His deep chuckle vibrates through her chest. "I'd like that too, doll."

Curling her fingers around the back of his neck, she drags his mouth down to hers. The first thing she notices is how Valentine's lips are cool in the chilly morning, but the thrill of it sends a shock of heat through her. Their kiss is light and, yes, tentative as she learns the shape of his mouth, how best to fit against him. His lips feel different to those of a human man, their texture smooth and rubbery. She has to tilt her head so she fits under the brim of his fedora; as she does so, his arm slides around her waist to hold her in place, deepening their kiss.

She pulls back an inch to catch her breath and he pursues her for a second, quicker kiss.

It takes far too long to remember they stand on a public jetty. "We should probably stop giving the neighbors a show." Even so, she can't bring herself to untangle from Valentine. If she does, the world might descend upon her again with its full weight.

Somehow there's a fresh glow in Valentine's eyes when he says, "Guess we'd best get back to it. No rest for the wicked, as they say."