A/N: Thanks to Mr Ninja Pineapple for betaing! Recommended listening: Mercy by Muse.

When Kaelyn stops by Kasumi's nook, the young woman is packing her tools away in their box, giving the task more attention than it perhaps requires. "Hey, listen. So everything in Acadia has been settled. I found my answers. But recently I've been thinking a lot about your original mystery: me. And why you showed up here in the first place. I hurt Kenji and Rei by leaving, didn't I? Should I go back? They need a daughter. They deserve to have one."

Kaelyn halts beside Kasumi's workbench. Her latest project involves a home-made compass and several lightbulbs, but their purpose can't be gleaned from a casual look. "The question is, do you want to be that daughter?"

Kasumi clears space on the bench and pulls herself up to sit with her legs swinging, and pats the space beside her in an invitation Kaelyn accepts. She purses her lips, then drags her lower lip between her teeth. "I miss my grandfather. And the boathouse where we used to sing old shanties or make up new lyrics. Instant win if you could ever find a word that rhymes with orange. On the hottest nights, we'd sit on the jetty with Nuka-Cola my mom somehow chilled. Yeah... maybe I'm a synth, but I can be their daughter, too, right?"

The original case feels so distant now. But with the problems on the island sorted—Kaelyn hopes—it's time, she thinks, to return to the Commonwealth. "If that's what you want, we can escort you home when you're ready." Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Valentine rattling down the stairs to lean in the doorway with his fedora tipped low over his face.

"Home…" Kasumi clicks her heels together. "Funny how the meaning of that word never changed. I'll have to say goodbye to everyone and pack my things. Don't leave without me!" She slides off the workbench and darts away to her quarters.

The moment she's gone Valentine strides into the room, making a beeline for Kaelyn. He grabs her face between both hands, making her start at the lines of cold metal caging her cheek, and turns her head up to meet his hot gaze. "Are you alright?"

Kaelyn reaches up to curl her fingers around his wrist. No pulse threads under his skin, but she doesn't need it to notice how agitated he is. "I'm fine, Nick. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because," he says, quietly, carefully, "DiMA and Faraday rifled through your memories like a photo album."

Kaelyn stiffens, eyes going wide. A shard of panic, at once cold and hot, pierces her chest. She jerks back and he lets go of her at once. No. He can't know. He can't.

Valentine searches her face. "It's true, isn't it? God."

Her lips tingle. "How did you find out?"

"DiMA told me everything. Confessed, really. I guess guilt got the better of him." Valentine cups her cheek again, as gentle as before. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Swallowing, she reaches up to cover his hand with her own. "I've been getting headaches since they—" she shakes her head to clear it. "But they're not as bad as they were. I hope they'll fade away given enough time."

"You evidently felt you couldn't come to me about this." His voice is soft and—disappointed. "Why's that?"

"Nick, I— I didn't want to widen the rift between you and DiMA. You and I weren't doing so well at the time and I didn't want to hurt you more."

"It's not your job to manage my relationship with DiMA. 'Specially not by hiding his actions, because what he did ain't on you." His unhappy gaze trails over the spot where her fingers cover his. "When DiMA told me Chase found you and you'd been out for hours, I was so worried and angry. But it wasn't your fault at all. I'm sorry for believing the worst of you—that you'd go back on your word and run into the Fog to lose yourself."

Funny how a simple apology can ease the remaining knot of hurt in her heart. Maybe in hindsight, this is the reaction she could have anticipated had she told him earlier, but—she'd felt so isolated. "You weren't wrong to doubt me. I didn't have a good track record up to that point. Please don't beat yourself up over it."

"That's being remarkably fair."

"I can afford to be, now that it's over."

Valentine doesn't share the sentiment. "I should have known better. And DiMA… after what he did to you, well, I'd understand if you don't want to be within fifty feet of him again."

"I don't," she agrees. "Being in the same room as him or Faraday makes my skin crawl. But he's your brother, Nick."

"That doesn't give him a pass on hurting you. Every scrap of shame he feels about it—he deserves it. Another thing he has to to make up for."

"No," she says, sharp. Then softer, "No. See, this is why I didn't want you to know. I'm not going to ask you to choose between me and DiMA."

"Not by taking the choice outta my hands, you aren't." He stops, gathers himself, and when he continues his voice is softer. "The truth ain't always easy to hear, but next time do me a favor and not keep this sort of thing secret from me."

Valentine's gaze is a steady, relentless thing and as Kaelyn looks over his dear face, she knows she can't deny him what he asks for. "Done."

Kaelyn shuffles closer so she can fold her arms around him, and he's more than happy to return the gesture. Leaning into his chest, she lets him take her weight and he rests his chin on top of her head.

He says, then, quietly, "I've been thinking about how DiMA can face justice. Sending him to confess to the Harborfolk is as good as a death sentence. And now he has to make up for what he's done to you on top of everything else. We can't imprison him, and I don't think community service quite covers it."

Kaelyn pulls back to see his face. "But what if—it can? I'm not talking picking up litter, but giving Far Harbor the resources to flourish? Protecting them? Enforcing a peace treaty with the Children? It's hard to just survive out here, and sharing resources will go a long way to help."

"Yeah, and how much of that is worth someone's life?"

"How is it any different from a judge deciding what prison sentence is worth a murder? Nothing ever can completely measure up to the harm caused, but that doesn't mean we can't try."

Valentine considers this, thoughtful and quiet and maybe a little surprised. Then his gaze flicks over her. "As one of the wronged parties, you got anything you'd like to see in return?"

"I want DiMA to stop assuming he has the right to dictate other people's fates. I want him to stop dropping his Acadian ideals whenever the going gets tough."

He brushes his thumb over her lower lip. "More than fair on your part, doll. Guess I have some more things to mull over."

It's evidently a one-person job, so Kaelyn lets him go. But as she studies the slope of his turned back, she says softly, "Nick. You asked me for advice, before. I never—had the chance to resolve anything with Shaun. If you get an opportunity to talk things out with DiMA, come to an understanding, then my advice is to take it."

She doesn't need to call after him; his hearing is keen enough.

Valentine pauses on the threshold, turning his head enough that she can see him nod, and then he is gone.

Kaelyn lies on her bed, an arm flung over her eyes. Although just a few hours ago she had cuddled with Valentine on this very mattress, those aren't the memories that press down on her now. Richter's face, half-blackened and a neat red hole above his right eyebrow. The poisonous resentment burning in Tektus's eyes as he turned away from the Nucleus. Aubert's wan smile.

The door creaks open, a prickle of cold air washing over her. A finger strokes her arm, so light she could be imagining it.

"You awake, doll?"

She moves her arm to peer up at Valentine. "Yeah. What's up?"

His expression is as sober as she's ever seen it. "I'm going to dole out DiMA's judgment now."

"Nick, are you sure about this?"

"You said it was my call to make, so I've decided. If you want to come with, now's the time. If not, I understand."

Scrubbing her hands over her face, Kaelyn lowers her legs over the side of the bed. "No, I'll—see this through."

With a single nod, Valentine offers her his arm. "Let's get this done."

Traversing the stairs seems to take three times as long from the basement of Acadia to ground level; surely a trick of malleable human perception that Valentine does not suffer from.

Upon their entry to the telescope room, DiMA stands in a single, fluid motion. Sensing the solemn air, he only says, "Brother."

Valentine grunts in acknowledgment. "I think you know why we're here. Now, DiMA, this is a right pickle. If you confess to Far Harbor, you'll be killed."

"Not just me, brother, but all of Acadia would be endangered if Far Harbor knew. That is why we had best keep silent on this matter—"

"Not so fast. That doesn't mean you can't do your time. So here's what you're going to do. You're going to give Far Harbor the blueprints for the Fog condensers, so they can make and maintain 'em themselves. That way they aren't reliant on you in case you decide to pull the plug on the wind turbines. Then you're gonna change how things are run in this place. Acadia can't survive if you keep making decisions in the shadows and covering it up. Let your people have a say, DiMA."

"How does this serve your purpose, brother? The more people who are aware of sensitive information, the less safe they are."

"When problems arise, they might surprise you with answers you hadn't considered. Sanctuaries are built on trust, not deception. And you want this to be a place of refuge for synths, right?"

Light reflects off the bulbs in the back of DiMA's head when he inclines his head. "You are correct."

Next, you arrange a treaty between Acadia and Far Harbor as well as between Far Harbor and the Nucleus. The terms of that treaty are gonna be real swell for the Harborfolk. Acknowledge the debt Avery has the right to call on in the future."

DiMA, who listened without a flicker in his expression, now asks, "You would have me put my own people at a disadvantage for the sake of Far Harbor?"

"No, I'd have you make up for what you've done. If that means your people have to half the number of tatos in their soup, remember you're getting off light. In the old world—in Detective Nick Valentine's world—murderers saw the electric chair. Last but not least, you owe Kaelyn here an apology."

She only has time to raise an eyebrow before DiMA's attention switches to her. "I am sorry for viewing your memories without your consent. If there's anything I can do to make it up to you, please tell me."

"Well, there was one thing I thought of," Valentine says. "Delete your memories of what you found in her head. You don't get to forget what you did to her, but you don't have a right to the memories you pawed through. So get rid of what you found, but not the knowledge that you did it."

Poise forgotten, Kaelyn all but gapes at Valentine. He glances sideways at her and even in profile his expression is—very soft. She clears her throat. "Sounds good to me."

DiMA's face goes wooden in what Kaelyn has learned is his processing face, and then he inclines his head. "At once."

The process takes several hours. While DiMA rests in his chair interface, Faraday monitoring the terminals, Kaelyn and Valentine find a quiet nook to wait. Squishing together on a bench, she smooths the wrinkles from the front of her jacket and toys with the zipper. He claims her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles, and some of the tension leaves her shoulders.

Closing her eyes, Kaelyn tries to think of the joyous tail-wagging Dogmeat will greet her with and not Aubert's empty pallet.

A nervous Faraday finds them and invites them back to the telescope room. DiMA stands by one of the terminals on the far side of the room, out of sight from the entryway. Only Valentine's bolstering presence at Kaelyn's back gives her the courage to take her eyes off DiMA and Faraday to read the text scrawled on the screen. It's a list of files with an obscure naming convention, flickering blue on black—except for the final string.

DELETE ALL? Y/N

"These are my memories of your memories," DiMA says, and Kaelyn almost tamps down on a flinch. "All of them."

She peers at the screen again, but there's nothing for an organic mind to make sense of. How strange to see her memories—her data—stored on a hard drive. "How do I know this is it?"

"You have nothing but my word," DiMA says, his voice soft and modulated.

Kaelyn gives him a flinty look. If old synths have the same tells as a lying human, now would be an excellent time to know. She wonders if she has any choice but to believe he wouldn't lie to her now with Valentine watching. "There are no redundancies? Backups?"

"None. We have temporarily isolated this terminal from the server."

With one finger, Kaelyn presses Y.

The terminal executes the command, scrawling a list of deleted files. Kaelyn watches, unblinking, until the terminal reports success and returns to the main menu.

DiMA makes a soft noise—relief? Regret? "I have one last favor to ask. Please, take this holotape and give it to Avery. It contains an apology for her, and informs her that I personally owe her a debt she can call on at any time. She can ignore my message if she wishes; I expect no response."

Nick plucks the proffered tape from DiMA and pockets it. "Can do."

That night Kaelyn rolls over to find the other half of the mattress too spacious. When she next floats back to awareness, Valentine is sliding into bed beside her, his lips brushing against her cheek.

She snuggles against him. "There you are."

"Here I am. Didn't mean to wake ya. Just—wanted to talk to DiMA again. Work things out."

Running a hand over his shoulder, she murmurs, "Feel better?"

"Yeah. I do."

Kaelyn and Valentine must then pack their own bags and say their own goodbyes. Miranda jokingly wishes she could come with, but the Commonwealth isn't yet safe for her dream of traveling. To Chase, Kaelyn bequeaths her power armor, in order to better protect Acadia and Far Harbor. Even Dejen gives her a respectful nod. There's only one piece of outstanding business before they can leave.

DiMA.

Valentine stands so close beside Kaelyn his coat brushes her thigh, and if she tilts her head she can hear the whirr of his internal mechanics. Unseen, his hand braces the small of her back.

Thankfully, DiMA keeps his distance, hovering by his chair. "I understand you are taking Kasumi back to the Commonwealth. What you leave behind is an island at peace. It's a heavy burden, what we've done, but now the Nucleus, Far Harbor and Acadia will all flourish. Together. I'll oversee talks between the Children, Far Harbor and Acadia to ensure this peace remains. I'll also do as Nick says regarding the terms of Acadia's treaty with Far Harbor."

"DiMA," Valentine says. "You've got good intentions, but for the love of whatever you find holy don't mess with anyone's heads in the future. Literally or figuratively. You want to show synths are no better or worse than humans? Prove it by talking with 'em like they're people instead of pulling strings from the shadows."

DiMA's expression flickers, as do the screens of the terminal bay he's connected to. "Yes... I see the wisdom of your words, brother. With luck, it will be easier now." His attention then shifts to Kaelyn and she feels a chill. "I have a proposition, if you would hear me. I would ask you take a place in Far Harbor to welcome synths who arrive and guide them to Acadia. Avery—she was supposed to be a bridge between human- and synthkind. Only it was artificial. But you—you are the advocate we need. A human who sees synths as people and is willing to fight for our kind."

Kaelyn's expression hardens. "We brought peace to the island, but that doesn't mean I want to stay here. Sorry, but no." I want to go home.

DiMA inclines his head. "Of course. I understand." A pause. Then: "Forgive me."

"I can't."

Maybe one day she can offer DiMA mercy, but not yet. Not when that dull ache still nestles in the base of her skull. She still can't look Faraday in the eye, and being in DiMA's presence makes her break out in goosebumps.

Valentine murmurs, "Quoth he, 'The man hath penance done, and penance more will do.'" Louder: "You have a lot of work ahead of you. You've got a lot of good in you, but that doesn't justify bad methods. No more crimes, you hear me?"

"No more," DiMA echoes. "It has been good to see you again, brother."

Valentine touches a finger to the brim of his fedora. "Likewise... brother."

They meet Kasumi in the car park, studying the observatory one final time. With a wave to Miranda, who stands on the steps, they set off on their final trek through the Fog. Sunset is a soft rose ball that doesn't hurt to look at, sinking into the black trees, and evening proper settles around them by the time they reach the pier. When Far Harbor learns of their imminent departure, they are forbidden from leaving without a proper farewell party, which involves off-key sea shanties and enough alcohol to make Vadim Bobrov weep with joy.

Much like the Captain's Dance celebration, tables are dragged outside to the dock and a buffet set up. Even Mitch's uncle joins in, though he remains as crotchety as ever. Bertha squeezes Kaelyn's legs in a tight hug then darts away back to her brother. Valentine slips away to have a quiet word with Avery, the tape exchanging hands, and her smile is a touch stiff afterward.

After warning Kasumi away from the more potent local brews, Kaelyn proceeds to buy out Far Harbor's entire stock of Vim! to bring home. Preston and Piper will love it, and maybe she can share a bottle or two around HQ as well.

"A toast!" Mitch shouts, to thunderous approval. "To our island, our home, and our mainlanders! May we not die in the Fog! Bottoms up!"

Kaelyn and Kasumi rise early, just after dawn, and with Valentine they head down to the dock where Avery and the Mariner already lounge.

"Hope you didn't think you could leave without saying goodbye." Avery shakes Kaelyn and Valentine's hands in turn. "You've, well, you've done a lot around here. I heard our offering to the Children was well-received. There's a lot of bad blood on the island, but we now have a shot at making this work."

"Keep Allen in line, take it slow, and don't get greedy," Kaelyn says. "The Children are—well, they have a lot of changes to get used to. They aren't at their best right now."

The Mariner steps up, her glasses fogged with chill and her beanie riding low on her forehead. "So this is it. You've been a true friend through this. The Hull can take anything the island throws at it. And," she says with a rueful smile, "the Red Death won't threaten Far Harbor again."

Kaelyn pulls the Mariner into a hug. This is the last time they'll see each other, she knows. After a moment, the Mariner rests her hands on Kaelyn's back and squeezes. When they withdraw, the Mariner adjusts her glasses and waves a severe finger at her. "None of that. No going soft." Then her face loosens into a smile. "Live well, my friend."

Clearing her throat, Kaelyn looks to their boat sitting quietly in the gray water, then to Kasumi. "Ready?"

Determination hardens her expression. "Ready."

Kasumi leans over the side of the boat, catching sea spray in her hands, and suddenly points to a distant gray ridge. "Look! I know where we are! My father and I come here to fish in May."

The remaining hours stretch by in a restless whip of salty wind and spindrift. Kaelyn tucks a curling lock of hair behind her ear and smirks at Valentine, who has been forced to secure his fedora in her pack or risk losing it to the jaws of the sea.

There's no cover on the ocean, and Kasumi's mounting excitement is tempered by apprehension when the headland comes into view, with the factory to the south and the beach house to the north. Kasumi smooths out the salt-stiff wrinkles of her coveralls. "Oh, man. What do I tell them? Do you think they'll be happy to see me? What if they're angry—"

"Relax, kid," Valentine chuckles. "I think they just want you home safe."

She bites her lip. "You know, I thought getting answers would fix things, but I'm still as uncertain as ever."

Kaelyn says, "Honestly, Kasumi? That's normal. With no way to prove who's synth and who's human, we'll never know for sure."

"You don't trust that DiMA has it right?" After a moment, Kasumi snorts quietly. "Who am I kidding, of course you don't."

It'll be some time before she can hear his name without a phantom pang of fear, but for now Kaelyn does her best to focus on there here and now. "He did try to convince me I was a synth when I first walked through the door. I wish I had solid answers for you, Kasumi, but sometimes we don't get closure."

"Yeah, you're right about that. All I can do now is go home."

Two figures rush from the house when the boat's motor heralds their arrival, and Kenji and Rei meet them on the docks. When the boat is moored, Kenji offers a hand to haul them out of the boat one by one.

Kasumi looks between her parents. "Mom. Dad. I'm home."

Her parents crush her into a hug.

"Oh, my baby!" Rei says when she lets go, stepping back to take hold of Kasumi's shoulders. "You're back safe!"

His face trembling with relief and joy, Kenji says, "Welcome home, Kasumi." He rests a hand atop Rei's.

Rei examines her daughter's face, turning her this way and that, searching for changes. "Kasumi, does this mean— you know we're your parents, right? You're not a synth."

Kasumi blinks and tears and ducks her head. "I know, Mom. I'm sorry. I was just so confused. I wanted to go somewhere. Anywhere."

Whether or not she actually believes what she says, Kaelyn doesn't know, but it's safer this way. With no means to tell who's synth and who's human without invasive procedures, they might never know for sure which one Kasumi is.

Kenji says, "It's okay, Kasumi. You're home now."

Kaelyn decides there's a teachable moment to be had here. "Listen to Kasumi next time. Don't just try to keep her safe. Talk to her."

Kenji is a changed man from the fearful, agitated father yelling into a dead radio. Deeper lines have been scored at the corners of his eyes and around his mouth, but now his face is lit with relief. "I know. I will. I held on so tightly I almost lost her. Thank you. Thank you both. You have made our family whole again."

"If any of you ever need help again, you know where to find us." Valentine tips his hat. "If you folks are alright, we'll leave you to talk it out. See you around, Kenji."

Kenji nods back. "Goodbye, Nick. Best of luck to you and your partner in the future."

Kaelyn and Valentine trade a look, trying to hide their smiles. Partner. The word may have just taken on a second meaning. Reunited at last, the Nakanos return to their house to talk—but not before Kasumi hugs both Kaelyn and Valentine and offers her own thanks.

Kaelyn steps off the dock onto the sand. Commonwealth sand. The freeway overpass stretches and creaks on the ridge, spearing north to the border, if states even have meaning anymore. Home. She's home. The word will always carry grief on its back, but—even so. There's a gladness beside it, too.

"Well," Valentine says, "guess we're back to good old-fashioned Commonwealth dangers."

Kaelyn says, "No more gulpers."

"Anglers."

"Radioactive Fog."

"Fog crawlers."

"Improbably difficult cases—no, wait, we've still got those."

With a chuckle, Valentine takes her hand and they walk across the muddy beach. His skin is warm from the sun and smooth from wear, and she loves the rasp of his palm against hers. They'll have to tell their friends, in time, and get used to the odd looks. But for now she's just going to enjoy breathing air that isn't trying to kill her and feeling Valentine's fingers threaded through her own.

"In this line of work, you have to expect the unexpected. Still, never had a case quite like Kasumi's."

Kaelyn raises an eyebrow. "Really? Never?"

The smile he gives her is downright sly. "Well, there was that one time I got hired by someone who'd been frozen in a vault for two hundred years. That one's been a doozy so far..."

Kaelyn gives him an affectionate shove and he catches her arm again, this time pulling her to a halt. Valentine tugs her hand to his chest, over the spot where his heart would be. Instead of its beat, she feels the whirr of machinery in a steady rhythm that is at once comforting and alien.

"Never thought I—not the old Nick, me—would ever get something like this, but I'm sure glad it's you."

Kaelyn flexes her fingers in his shirt, feeling the fabric shift over his artificial dermis. She's still wounded, still hurting from fragile scabs old and new that are prone to cracking at a moment's notice. But the good, and the bad, and the love—she'll remember it all.

fin

A/N: Whew! That marks my first finished longfic over 50k words. If you can believe it, my outline was for eleven chapters. By the end of the first draft I had fifteen, and after editing I had what you see before you. Huge thanks to everyone who read, favourited, and/or commented! You guys rock.

Until next time!