Following the aroma of fresh coffee, Kaelyn Prescott shambles out of the bathroom to the kitchen where Codsworth hovers with the pot.

"Ah, good morning, mum! Your coffee." He pours the brew into a waiting mug on the counter.

Hooking the nearest stool with her foot, Kaelyn leans on the counter and inhales the rich caffeine-laden steam to chase off lingering lethargy. One good thing about being home alone is that she can use Nate's ration to double the strength. Her favorite lipstick leaves plum kisses along the mug's rim.

As Codsworth putters about in the kitchen making breakfast, she flips through the Boston Bugle while the TV murmurs in the background. War reports smack with self-righteous propaganda—she scans for any mention of Geneseo, where Nate's company had been assigned after Anchorage, but with luck its absence means nothing bad has happened on base. There are also mentions of the food riots. Another outbreak of the New Plague. A reminder to always comply with the National Guard at the checkpoints scattered around Boston.

Codsworth deposits a plate of toast by her elbow when she's sunk into an article on an arrest made at the CIT, and she thanks him absently. A cry peals down the hallway and she glances up, attuned to the sound after six months with her son. Shaun is fed first thing in the morning; it isn't his hunger cry.

As Kaelyn brushes crumbs off her fingers, Codsworth floats past her, calling, "Sounds like someone made a stinky! I'll take care of it right away, mum, while you finish breakfast!"

It's always impressive he's able to sound so cheered at the prospect of changing soiled diapers. Even so, she devours the last of her breakfast and pads down the hall after him. Leaning against the doorway, she hangs back rather than risk being hit with an errant sawblade. Why General Atomics thought that and a flamethrower are vital tools for a domestic robot, she'll never know.

The infinite gentleness Codsworth uses to handle her baby never fails to make her pause, even if Shaun is still squalling indignantly. As he rewraps Shaun's swaddling, one eye stalk swivels in the direction of the door. "Ah, Miss Kaelyn! I've changed young master Shaun but as you can hear, he won't calm down. Perhaps you'll do better with him. I don't think he's quite used to my appearance yet."

"I told you we should draw a face on your chassis, Codsworth," she teases. As she steps up to the dresser, Shaun stops crying. "Babies have simple facial recognition."

"And I asked you not to ruin my chrome finish," he retorts, artificial irises narrowing as all three optics focus on her. "I would be the laughingstock of the neighborhood. Take pity on your poor Mr Handy, mum."

"You're right. What would the neighbors think?" Kaelyn leans over the dressing table to tickle Shaun's stomach and he giggles.

He kicks his feet through the swaddling, big brown eyes fixing unerringly on her. Flecks of green—inherited from Nate, no doubt—soften the hazel. Shaun lifts an arm to her, his face still red and scrunched, and she catches his hand. His small fingers curl in her palm, his skin a few shades lighter than her own. She glances over her shoulder to find Codsworth has already made a discreet exit, shutting the nursery door behind him.

A crisp breeze shivers through the maples outside the window, and a fiery swirl of leaves drifts over the fence and into the yard. Not a single cloud diminishes the sky's deep blue. Their neat lawn is still green despite the thickening layer of frost that coats it every morning, and she spies a loose picket in the fence she'll have to secure before letting Shaun roam free.

Kaelyn hoists her son in her arms so he can look out the window. "Doesn't it look nice out there? It should be warm enough you can play in the yard today. We'd best enjoy it while it's still green."

Her baby is more interested in stuffing his fingers in her mouth.

"Mum?" Codsworth's call, muffled yet shrill, carries through the door. "You should come see this!"

It sounds more serious than a milk bottle slipping out of his pincers again. Kaelyn pads down the hall, calling, "What's wrong, Codsworth?"

He floats in the living room, optics fixed on the TV.

"—followed by... yes, flashes. Blinding flashes. Sounds of explosions. We're trying to get confirmation... we, uh, seem to have lost contact with our affiliate stations."

She can only watch, silent, petrified, as the nebulous fears of the last decade solidify before her eyes. Waiting for a denial, that there's been some kind of mistake.

The anchorman draws in a shaky breath, listening to someone off-camera, and shuffles his papers to occupy his hands. "We do have... confirmed reports. I repeat, confirmed reports of nuclear detonations in New York and Pennsylvania." The anchorman crumples, burying his face in his hands—and the TV cuts out.

Fear pierces her with the curved fangs of a cobra.

Instinct takes over. Get to safety.

Heart pounding against her ribs, she tightens her grip on Shaun. "Who's my brave little boy? We need to get you to the vault. Now."

Shaun blinks up at her, wide awake now, and gurgles. He wraps his arms around her neck and settles against her shoulder, making a noise of complaint when her quick gait jostles him. Shoving her feet into her shoes, Kaelyn calls, "Codsworth! Stay safe, sweetie."

"And your family as well, mum. Oh my…"

She leaves him floating in living room, one optic trained on her as she bursts onto the street. The sky is such a deep blue she has to blink away bright spots.

In the space of a breath, the tranquility of Sanctuary Hills is shattered. Shouts and cries pierce the fall morning. The street is abuzz with panicking people, some fleeing, others hugging their loved ones on the sidewalk, others just watching the sky. A car speeds down the road, almost running over Hawthorne, but screeches to a halt when it finds the bridge blocked by a traffic jam. The Vault-Tec van is parked outside Ms Rosa's house, and Kaelyn is glad she'd signed up months ago.

At the bend in the street a National Guardsman stands by Mrs Able's yard and gestures to the well-worn track, directing her fleeing neighbors up the hill. "Vault participants this way!"

Her chest tightens at the sight of a soldier in his green fatigues, but with Shaun whimpering in her arms there's no time to think of Nate. So she lowers her head and scales the hill in record time, her loafers slipping on eroded dirt. Another soldier grabs her elbow and assists her up a particularly steep incline with a hurried, "That way, miss!"

People crowd around the gate to the vault's construction zone. Shouts break out at the front, where the Vault-Tec rep takes on the soldier blocking the gate, only to shrink back when one of the flanking guards in power armor raises his oversized gun. The crowd writhes, people backing up and screaming. With his hands raised, the Vault-Tec rep retreats, the crowd parting behind him to avoid being in the line of fire, and bolts down the hill, yelling threats over his shoulder all the while.

The soldier standing at the gates remains unmoved. "If you're in the program step forward! Otherwise return to your homes!"

Kaelyn weasels her way through the crowd, earning an elbow in the ribs and a scowl from Mr Summer, who's wearing nothing but a blue bathrobe. She eyes the flanking guards askance; power armor looks much bigger in real life than it does on TV. "We're on the list!" she says before the soldier can do anything more than scowl over his clipboard. She keeps one eye on the soldier in power armor—and the minigun directed at the crowd. "Prescott, Kaelyn and Shaun."

The man consults his clipboard. Every second he spends scanning the list, her nerves tighten. His scowl deepens. "Adult female. Infant. Go ahead."

Behind him, the Goliath in power armor relaxes, lowering his weapon to point at the ground. With hurried thanks, Kaelyn skirts around the guards and tries to ignore the indignant shouts behind her. Someone hurls obscenities at her back—only for the crowd to hush at the clank of power armor.

Another guard—not army personnel but Vault-Tec security, judging by his uniform—waves her past the packing crates and points to a platform at the crest of the hill. "Quickly! Stand in the center of the elevator!"

"What's going to happen to all those people outside the gate?"

"We're doing everything we can. Now get moving!"

Several of her neighbors cluster atop the vault platform. Mrs Able gives her a tight smile and squeezes her arm. They wait in silence, looking anywhere but at each other or the crowd at the gate. On any other day, the view from the drop-off would be spectacular, overlooking Sanctuary Hills and Concord, while Boston's skyscrapers stand tall in the distance. Kaelyn's heart pulses in her wrists, her ears, her throat. With one eye watching the sky, she rocks Shaun, but he won't settle.

Now they can only wait.

Realizing it might be her last chance, Kaelyn kisses Shaun's forehead. "I love you."

To Nate, wherever he is out there, she thinks: We love you.

Someone screams, pointing at the horizon—

The sky burns. Blue to orange in the span of a heartbeat. Heralded by a thunderous boom, a mushroom cloud blooms on the horizon like a malicious flower. Its iconic shape halts every thought in her head.

Kaelyn can only gape, the roaring in her ears louder than the shock wave rushing over the hills.

In the distance, past all the noise: "Now! Send it down now!"

Instinct has her spinning, clutching Shaun to her chest and hunching over him as the shock wave crests over Concord, and she braces for it to hit her back—

The platform jostles under her feet and lowers. Dust and radioactive particles surge above their heads, a dry brown wave that blocks the light, consuming all sound in a singular roar. It tears at Kaelyn's hair; she tucks Shaun's head under her chin and breathes into her shoulder.

Then it passes, leaving the shrinking sky above a wan brown.

Kaelyn listens, but hears only the church bells in her ears. Then grinding elevator gears, shocked breaths from her neighbors, and Shaun's distressed mewl.

"It's okay. It's okay. We're okay." She croons this over and over, as much for herself as for him. Her hands shake, her arms shake, her whole body shakes. He frees one tiny hand to fist in the front of her blouse and she shifts her feet to better settle with his weight.

The elevator is slow. Too slow. With no indication of how far they have yet to go, with no distractions from her silent neighbors, Kaelyn's thoughts circle like buzzards seeking proof of death for the unmoving body on the ground. Codsworth at home, her tatta and brother in the city, her friends. The bomb didn't hit Boston itself so they could have a chance. Codsworth could have a chance. Her family…

Oh, Nate.

Drawing in a breath, Kaelyn tells herself he's on the list, she'd made sure of that, and he can still get in. The army has access to top of the line equipment and supplies that can keep him safe. Despite her stormy relationship with her tatta and brother, she hopes they can get to safety, too.

Such stubborn insistence, the obstinate sister of denial, wards off the awareness lurking in her periphery.

Shaun fusses, confused by the unfamiliar sensation of descending on an elevator, peering at the quasi-familiar faces. Mr Russell eyes Shaun the way one might a loaded gun. Kaelyn adjusts his swaddling, tucking his hand under the blanket every time he wriggles it free, and hopes the vault itself isn't going to be this cold. If only she'd had time to grab Shaun's beanie.

The knowledge of what just happened, what they'd hoped would never happen, presses down on her with the same weight as the chill in the air.

This can't be happening.

Finally, a gate comes into view and beyond it—Vault 111 itself. Kaelyn has no idea how far underground they are. And her neighbors above ground are lost, panicked, possibly dea—

Now's not the time, she tells herself. Shaun needs to be settled first.

As the gate lifts, a white man with a mustache and clipboard stands between two security guards. "Not to worry, folks! We'll get you situated in your new home. Welcome to Vault 111! A better future, underground!"

Right now Kaelyn will settle for a safe future.

Vault 111's first impression would be impressive if not for the current situation. For all that is is a marvel of engineering, homey doesn't describe the boxy steel construction with raw cabling running along the walls. The architecture better suits a sterile research platform than a new home, even if underground bunkers have limited decor options. Wan lights and overbright smiles from the staff illuminate the cavernous exit zone. Of course. These people just lost their homes, too.

After receiving their vault suits, the new residents huddle in a clump of bright clothes and pale faces, like tropical birds clustering together as a tiger prowls below their branch.

Shaun gurgles, reaching up to tug on Kaelyn's collar. "Dadada..."

It's enough to send an ice pick through her breastbone. Ducking her head, Kaelyn presses a kiss to the top of his head. "Take a look around, Shaun. This is our new home. It doesn't have windows, but we can work with that, right?"

A nearby doctor chuckles and gestures for her group to follow him. He epitomizes the image of a man of science, cast in monochrome whites and grays. "You'll love it here. This is one of our most advanced facilities. Not that the others aren't nice, of course. If you'll head this way, you'll be able to get dressed. Then we have a few medical items to get through before we begin orientation."

He leads their group to a bathroom and waits outside. Mrs Able volunteers to hold Shaun while Kaelyn changes but when she hands him over, he starts crying.

Kaelyn leans over him so he can see her face and tickles his tummy. "I won't be going far, my little guy. Just need a moment of privacy. Bye bye for now."

She slips into an empty stall and wrestles with the blue suit that's unlike anything she's ever worn before. The vault suit is tight around her hips and breasts but loose at the shoulder. After smoothing down the front—a needless gesture, since the fabric is too thick to wrinkle like her blouse—she bundles her old clothes under her arm.

At least my ankles aren't swelling anymore or these boots would be a nightmare.

The bravado rings false even in the privacy of her own mind.

Kaelyn bows her head and pinches the bridge of her nose to ward off the welling heat in her eyes.

Her neighbors. Her friends. Her family.

Nate.

A loud cry pierces her fugue. Shaun is red-faced and bawling in Mrs Able's arms, and Kaelyn shoots her an apologetic smile. "Here I am."

Shaun reaches out to her as she scoops him into her arms, his hands roaming her shoulder, her chin, the collar of her new vault suit. When his hand next comes in range of her mouth, she presses a kiss against his palm and wishes his delighted giggle can ease cold tightness behind her breastbone.

One of the staff members shows them to a locker room where they can stow their gear. "It's only temporary," she assures them with a smile that's blinding against her black skin. She drops her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Officially we're only supposed to wear these suits—looking to the future, right?—but sentimentality can be a powerful thing. I'll keep your belongings safe. Just go down the hall and we'll get the last of the housekeeping outta the way."

As her locker clicks shut, Kaelyn realizes this pigeon hole contains all her worldly belongings.

"Those of you who are dressed, follow me," the scientist says. He ushers a clump of people down the corridor to a chamber lined with two rows of what look like personal capsules, like something an astronaut might pilot, or even the Pulowski's Preservers installed in the streets.

"If you'll step into the pods, we can begin the process. In addition to decontamination, it will also depressurize you before we head deeper into the vault. It may feel strange, but all you need to do is relax. It'll be over in a few moments."

Kaelyn does as instructed, securing Shaun in the crook of one arm so she can grab one of the hand rails. The step up isn't so bad, but she has little space to maneuver with a nervous infant in her arms. The upholstery is made from real leather, and it almost seems wasteful when there's no truly comfortable way to lean back.

When the lid shuts, her shaky breaths echo in the enclosed space. Outside sound cuts off, incongruous with the activity she can see outside the tiny window as the others step into their own pods. Shaun whimpers, and she hums a lullaby to him while they wait.

An automated voice chimes, "Resident secure. Occupant vitals: normal. Procedure complete..."

Instead of opening, the tell-tale hiss of an air pump bounces around the tight confines of the pod. Kaelyn's head snaps up, seeking the source, her heart jumping despite the edict to relax. Shaun makes a sleepy noise of protest at being jostled, yet his eyes slip closed.

That's when Kaelyn notices her own eyes prickling.

"In five. Four..."

All at once, her head feels heavy, and she clutches Shaun tighter so he doesn't slip out of her lead-lined arms. The mechanized voice echoes, faint and distant, as if they're underwater.

When did it get so chilly in here?

"Three..."

The last thing she hears is the sigh of the gas feed.

Cold white.

"Manual override initiated. Cryogenic stasis suspended."

A shudder wracks her from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet. Her heart flits in her chest, so very loud. Her own breaths, expelled through chattering teeth, bounce off the lid of the pod, and she blinks away the lethargy shrouding her. Shaun shifts against her chest and sucks in a breath, face scrunching at the temperature. She brushes her knuckles over his cheek, causing him to wriggle his feet against her ribs.

The pod is dark. The porthole is coated in frost. But she can tell the chamber outside is dark, too.

With a too-loud hiss, the lid retracts, allowing warmer air to flood the pod. The icy bands of steel constricting her chest give way and she doubles over, coughing and spluttering for air. Frost and antiseptic prick her tongue. Her head aches from their combined power. Hands catch her shoulder to steady her, but when she looks up—

He's an entirely different man to the doctor.

"Nate?"

Before he finishes saying "it's me, honey", she's closed the distance between them and thrown an arm around his neck. Nate pulls her more firmly against him, arms wrapping around her and Shaun, and the only thing moderating his enthusiasm is their baby sandwiched between them. He presses a trio of kisses to the top of her head as she trembles, relieved beyond measure. Kaelyn goes one better: she grabs his collar and yanks him down for a proper, if breathless, kiss.

"I thought I'd never see you again."

He gives a watery laugh, and it's the most beautiful sound in the world. "I'm pleased to inform you that you thought wrong. Are you and Shaun alright?" He reaches out with trembling fingers to stroke Shaun's dark tuft of hair, a tremulous joy lighting his smile. "How's my little man? You are so much bigger than I remember. I hope you've been on your best behavior for Mommy."

"We're okay. I was more worried about you." Sniffling, Kaelyn leans back to see his dear face, to reassure herself that this is really happening, and Nate loosens his hold, if reluctantly. "How on earth did you get down here so fast? You must have seen the bomb go off."

Nate's expression shifts. His eyes darken.

Beside him, Dylan Brenner shifts on her feet. When Kaelyn notices her for the first time, Brenner offers her a smile. "Good to see you."

Wondering what else she's missed, she glances around and stares. The room is still dark, and the vault personnel have vanished, and the decontamination pods—they're all closed, with darkened faces lurking behind the glass.

"No. Something's wrong here." Kaelyn takes a wary half-step back, eyes darting around the room. "Where is everybody? What's going on?"

Nate reaches for her shoulder and his touch burns through the fabric. "You're right. There's a lot going on here and I'll explain everything, I promise. But right now I want Dylan to check you and Shaun out. Make sure you're okay."

Kaelyn's gaze flits between Nate and Brenner. "You talk while she works."

"Deal." Nate holds out an arm and she leans into his side, burrowing against his welcome heat.

Her nose runs, all but numb, and she can't feel her toes. Instead of easing her headache, the warmer air has only made her temples throb harder. Draping his arm around her shoulders, he guides her to the nearby stairs. When she's settled with Shaun in her lap, Nate sits beside her. Unable to keep his hands off her, he smooths a hand down her back.

Brenner settles on the stair below and unpacks her medical kit beside her. "Who's first? With the disclaimer that I never studied pediatrics."

"Shaun first." He hasn't cried yet even though he's in a strange place surrounded by strange people. Kaelyn shifts her son on her lap and loosens his swaddling.

At the first brush of cold air, Shaun squirms. Brenner at least warms the stethoscope between her palms before pressing it against his chest. He wriggles at the contact, face scrunching, sucking in a shocked breath. Over Brenner's shoulder, Kaelyn can see out the door at the opposite end of the room. The vault is dark and quiet and dripping.

She glances at Nate, raising an expectant eyebrow. "Are you going to tell me what's going on? Those decontamination pods…" Her eyes circuit the room again, wondering if she'd really seen people inside or if they were strange reflections on the windows. "They weren't really for decontamination, were they? Is there even a deeper level to the vault?"

Nate hums a reluctant agreement, his fingers tightening against her back. "No, they weren't for decon. Vault-Tec was experimenting with cryogenic stasis."

She closes her eyes. "How long?"

"It's been eight months since the bombs dropped."

Eight months.

Eight months.

Her stomach drops.

"What? That can't be—" Kaelyn cuts herself off. Nate wouldn't lie to her about it. That's the only thing that pierces the shock settling around her shoulders like an shawl woven from ice. "I don't— it doesn't feel like any time has passed."

Nate and Brenner both give her sympathetic looks. Shaun makes an unhappy noise, dangerously close to a squall, and Kaelyn busies herself with shushing him while Brenner checks his hands and feet for signs of frostbite.

Her restless gaze travels the room again, skating over the sealed pods lining the walls. "So everyone else is still… frozen? We have to get them out too."

"We will, when we can. But right now my focus is on you." Nate's gaze, dark and intent, doesn't waver from her.

"Shouldn't Vault-Tec's staff be here? If this is an experiment…"

Both Nate and Brenner trade a look, and a fresh thrill of alarm runs down her spine.

The words drag themselves from Nate's chest, slow and unwilling, like a chain-gang of convicts trudging to a quarry. "While you were, ah, sleeping, there was a mutiny. If anyone survived, they left the vault."

Oh. Well. She tries to formulate a response but her brain stopped engaging after mutiny.

The moment Brenner declares she's finished, Kaelyn rewraps Shaun, frowning at how cool the fabric is. Nate lifts Shaun out of her arms with care. "I've got him."

Already unnerved from everything that's happened today, Shaun bursts into tears.

With an uneasy laugh, Nate tries to rock Shaun back and forth. "He-ey easy there. It's alright. Daddy's got you. I'm not that scary, am I?"

Kaelyn leans sideways to stroke Shaun's head. "It's okay, little one. I'm right here. Daddy's going to hold you for a bit." She shoots Nate an apologetic look. "He's like that with people he doesn't know."

Brenner reclaims her attention, but not before she glimpses Nate's stricken expression.

At Brenner's direction, she unzips her vault suit enough for Brenner to listen to her heart and breathing.

Nate is occupied by a crying Shaun, desperation mounting in his voice when nothing he does settles the baby. "Shh, shh, it's okay!"

Shaun's screaming only gets louder with each passing second. Kaelyn squirms on the step, looking sideways, aching to pull him back into her arms and offer him comfort. Her baby is right there, crying for her. The moment Brenner relents in her examination, Kaelyn leans over him at once, letting him see her face as she strokes his cheek. But nothing can ease his distress now, his cries haunting the shadowed spaces of the ceiling with glass-sharp echoes.

Brenner touches Kaelyn's chin. "Look this way for me."

She turns her head away from Shaun and hisses at the too-bright light Brenner shines in her eye, flinching away from her gentle grip.

"Mild photophobia," Brenner mutters to herself, and subjects Kaelyn to another round of blindness in her other eye before putting the wretched penlight away. Nate rubs circles on the back of her neck with his thumb, only to pull away in dire need of a second hand to hold Shaun through a fresh bout of tears.

While Brenner works, she asks questions Kaelyn can answer without much thought. Yes, she can feel her toes. No, she doesn't feel any chest pain. Yes, she's feeling woozy. No, she doesn't think she's liable to faint.

At last, Brenner leans back and gestures towards Shaun.

Breaths shaky, Kaelyn reaches out to her baby, crooning, "It's alright now. I know it's been a long day and it's strange down here." Nate concedes their son to her with a mixture of relief and regret as Shaun settles against her and cries. Tucking his head under her chin, she holds him close to impart some of her warmth to him, shivering as his tiny, cold fingers scrape her neck. "Is there some place warmer down here?"

"Yeah, we can get out of here if Dylan gives the all-clear. What's your opinion?"

"Well, neurological functions seem to be normal," Brenner says. "Memory, speech, higher order cognitive processes. You worked out right away that the situation wasn't right. Both are showing signs of stress, but it's unclear whether it's from the stasis or the current situation. Get some rest, drink lots of fluids, and drop by the clinic tomorrow for a follow up. If anything about Shaun seems abnormal, or if you have chest pains or difficulty breathing, find me at once. But for now, you're free to go."

"Thanks, Dylan." Kaelyn reaches out to squeeze her wrist.

Brenner pauses her packing, the tiniest of smiles tugging at the edges of her mouth as if pulled by fine threads. "I should be thanking you for not making a medical emergency. The clinic is empty if you want some privacy." She gives the still-bawling Shaun a wayward look. "I doubt the others will appreciate the alarm clock."

Settling Shaun more comfortably against her shoulder, Kaelyn follows Brenner to the infirmary, and her rocking gait soothes Shaun somewhat, but since his head rests directly beneath her ear, the difference is negligible. Nate trails sheepishly beside her, anxiety and guilt carved into the lines on his face. After stowing her equipment, Brenner takes her leave with a quiet goodnight. When the door slides shut, Kaelyn lets out a soft breath and looks around the dim room without really taking it in. It's all—too much.

And Nate. He's right beside her, worn and weary, but here. His presence buoys her, keeps her anchored if only to watch him in awe. He's here. He's really here.

Shaun lets out a particularly loud cry, cutting through the frigid atmosphere, jolting her attention back to him.

Nate hovers by her side with a pinched expression. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"He'll settle down when he's ready. All we can do is wait."

Kaelyn circuits the room while Nate fetches blankets. Shaun's wails taper off to tired whimpers as she pats his back, and he quietens at last. Checking his diaper, she finds it dry and does the math. It's been—

Eight months.

It still doesn't register, her mind skipping over time that never existed to land not twenty minutes ago where Codsworth changed Shaun. Anyway, the point is he doesn't need a fresh diaper. Even though he's stopped crying, he remains unsettled in an unfamiliar room when he should be in the back yard, playing on the lawn while she reads in one of the deck chairs.

Kaelyn hops back on the gurney Nate turned into a blanket nest, a feat that would be tricky with her arms occupied by Shaun if not for Nate's gentle hands on her elbows. She unzips the front of her vault suit and offers Shaun a breast to suck, and it takes a few minutes before he's ready to accept. What remains of her energy dissipates and she leans her forehead against Nate's side.

He tangles his fingers in her hair, running circles against her scalp, and sighs. "So food is the secret trick to settling Shaun down? I'll keep that in mind. Do you want your shoes off?"

Her nod mashes her nose against his jacket. Nate crouches in front of her to unlace her boots, running his fingers up and down her calves. Sighing, Kaelyn closes her eyes and rests one foot on his knee, drawing patterns with a toe.

"You look as tired as I feel. Get up here and help me warm Shaun up."

His weary chuckle is comforting in its familiarity. Underneath the sandpaper-roughness is the husky baritone that never fails to send a bolt of warmth through her belly. "Yes, ma'am." Shucking off his own boots, Nate rounds the gurney to hop up behind her and ease her back against his chest. He folds his arms around her waist, supporting Shaun's weight.

Breaking Shaun's suction on her nipple with a finger, Kaelyn zips up her jumpsuit. This time she's certain Nate peeks. They squirm on the narrow gurney to find a comfortable arrangement, and end up pressed chest-to-chest, tangling their legs together, with Shaun between them. Kaelyn drags her feet, cold under her socks, down his shins.

"I love you," she sighs.

He kisses the tip of her nose, her cheek, and finally, softly, her lips. "I love you both."

Closing her eyes, Kaelyn rests her cheek against his chest. "Will you still be here tomorrow?"

Nate pulls her closer and drops a kiss to her shoulder. His other hand rests on Shaun's back. "Promise."

A large hand rests on her waist, imparting heat through through her clothes. Warm breaths skim along the shell of her ear. Kaelyn opens her eyes to the most beautiful sight in the world: her husband asleep in front of her, curled on his side for once. The lights are dim enough that the remnants of tension in her temples don't flare up. With a stretch that almost lands her on the floor, she recalls they aren't in their bed at all but huddled on a little gurney in Vault 111's clinic.

Shaun is nestled between his parents. He hasn't woken up yet, so either his internal clock is as confused as hers or it's not yet 5am. But even the clinic's minimal lighting is enough for her to study Nate's face. His cheeks are gaunter than she remembers, and there are purple thumbprints pressed under this eyes.

Nate sighs again and his fingers twitch against her ribs. Under his unbuttoned jacket, there's a once-white shirt that molds itself to his torso. Her fingertips skate along his bicep, following the dip and curve of his corded muscles. She runs her fingers through his auburn hair, tugging at the too-long ends that flop over his temple. He normally keeps it short, as per army regs.

Nate shifts in his sleep with a soft exhale; this in turn nudges Shaun, who digs a tiny foot into Kaelyn's stomach. She moves their baby to a more comfortable position, stroking a finger along the curve of his cheek.

When she looks up again, Nate's eyes are open. She'd forgotten just how green his eyes are.

"Hi." His voice is rough with sleep.

"Morning." Kaelyn snuggles as close as she can without smothering the baby.

"And you…" Nate moves to touch Shaun. Hesitates. "He looks so peaceful like that."

Kaelyn presses kisses against his cheek, the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth. Finally touches her lips to his, dragging her thumb along his jaw, and it's another homecoming. An affirmation this is still real. She pulls back and giggles when she sees the lipstick marks she left. Licking a thumb, she scrubs at the plum-colored smears on his skin.

Nate makes an amused noise, his hand closing around her slender wrist. "If you're going to slobber all over my face, I can think of more entertaining ways of doing so."

She hums, affecting nonchalance. "I'll bet you can."

Nate leans over to place a kiss under her jaw. His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, still husky from sleep. "I think you'd enjoy it, too."

"I hope you're willing to put your money where your mouth is, big guy."

Kaelyn can feel his smile against her skin. "Just you wait, honey. It's been—" he takes a moment to calculate. "Damn. About a year since I last saw you."

The mood shifts, not quite punctured but pressed by looming reality. Kaelyn tangles her fingers in his hair, holds back a sigh. "I missed you, you know."

Nate draws back and they lie together, noses almost touching. Cupping her cheek, he says, quietly, "I thought you and Shaun were dead. Never been happier to be proven wrong in my life."

Memories of yesterday rush her, alternating hot and cold. The cloud of fire. The sanctuary of ice. Reaching up, she curls her fingers around Nate's wrist and squeezes, as much for her own comfort as his. "I'm just glad you and Shaun are safe."

Sensing her distress, Nate rests his forehead against hers. It's a form of comfort usually reserved for brothers in arms. "How are you feeling? Is the headache any better?"

She nods, troubled only by the faintest twinge in her temples that could be from dehydration as much as a lingering side effect of being— being frozen. For eight months. Huffing out an unsteady breath, she murmurs, "I can hardly wrap my head around any of it."

"It'll take time, honey. This is all—beyond what any of us expected. Take it easy, okay?"

"Right now I'm cuddling in bed with my family. I am taking it easy."

He gives her a slanted look that says nice try. "I know you, and I know you feel the need to be on top of everything. Don't beat yourself up for something that's beyond your control, is all I'm saying."

While Kaelyn is weighing up a response, Shaun squirms against her side and gurgles. Rolling onto her back, she pulls him onto her belly and leans him back against her propped-up thighs. He blinks sleepily as she coos, "Good morning, little one."

Shaun's mouth works as he sticks his tongue between his lips, then he blows a raspberry and giggles.

"Is he, ah…" Nate strokes one tentative finger over the back of Shaun's hand, ready to pull away at a moment's notice. When no crying is forthcoming, Nate's shoulders relax. "Is he going to get upset if I hold him?"

Kaelyn hums thoughtfully. "I'll change his diaper and give him a feed, then see how he feels." Easing to her feet, she carries Shaun to a nearby table and makes do with a tea towel as a replacement diaper, before she returns to their blanket nest, pushing Nate back onto the gurney when he makes to get up. She settles against his side and feeds a hungry and eager Shaun.

After burping Shaun—Kaelyn decides she isn't mean enough to make Nate deal with it—she looks between them. "So how are you feeling, little guy? Are you going to let Daddy hold you today?"

Shaun coos up at her and his big eyes turn to Nate when he leans in, hands hovering in the air, uncertain. But Shaun blinks and smiles, and Kaelyn can practically feel Nate radiate relief. Shaun's transition from one parent to the other involves too many hands, but then he's staring up at his father while Nate watches back, equal parts anxious and awed.

"Good morning, kiddo." Nate holds Shaun with both hands, his little body molding to the curve of his shoulder. He strokes a finger down the arm Shaun managed to work free from his swaddling and the baby grabs at the cuff of his fatigues. Nate's expression is—very soft.

Shaun huffs and Nate tenses up. "You're sure he's okay?"

Kaelyn gives him an amused smile. "A secret for you: babies are little people. They cry because they don't like something, and a lot of adults do things they don't like. If you wouldn't give a stranger a sloppy kiss and nibble on their toes, don't do it to a baby."

"What? You're telling me people don't like toe-nibbling? Why didn't someone tell me this sooner?"

"I married a barbarian."

Nate grins and slings an arm around her shoulders. "Congratulations, you're stuck with me for life."

Shaun squeals and they both look down to find him giving them a wide toothless smile that becomes a giggle when Kaelyn tickles his belly.

Balancing Shaun in the crook of his elbow, Nate shows her to the mess hall. No one is surprised by Kaelyn's appearance; conversely, she is surprised only Miller and Sculley sit at the table with Brenner, dealing cards. A glance into the dorm behind them proves it's empty. Strange.

Miller gives her a rare full smile. "Glad to see you and Shaun are alright."

Unfortunately, Sculley has to open his mouth. "Mornin', Mrs P. Lookin' good for someone who was a popsicle yesterday. I don't suppose you've got any superpowers now? Ability to to freeze things with your mind? Sense ice cream in a ten mile radius?"

Kaelyn has a retort ready on her tongue, but then Sculley looks turns in his seat to look her full on with bloodshot eyes. His cheeks are gaunt, deep shadows bringing red fever spots into sharp relief, and his hair has fallen out in uneven clumps.

"Don't be an ass, Sculley." Brenner's voice is the calm of someone pushed so far she doesn't even care anymore.

"How could you deprive the world of my best feature?"

"The world will surely find some way to cope with the loss," Kaelyn says dryly.

Sculley opens his mouth to retort, only for Shaun's squeal to startle him. Nate takes the opportunity to usher Kaelyn into a chair and hands Shaun back to her while he inspects the remnants of breakfast in the skillet. From the narrow-eyed look Sculley shoots him, it's probable her husband made some kind of gesture at him behind her turned back. At least Brenner and Miller welcome her to the table.

Kaelyn holds up a spoon. "Is this clean? Here you go." She holds it out to Shaun. While he's distracted mouthing his new toy, she inspects the plate Nate sets in front of her.

Picking at cooling slices of fried Cram, Kaelyn realizes just how much she has gotten used to their comfortable suburban life. Complacent, even. Between their double income and Nate's veteran status, they'd fared well during the food shortages. Beside her, he eats with enough vigor for two appetites, shoveling his breakfast into his mouth without hesitation or fanfare. When it's gone his knife scrapes mournfully across the greasy ceramic. From this angle, his face seems thinner, and the way he looks down at his plate makes her wonder about those mythical eight months.

She slides her last piece of Cram onto his plate. Nate starts to object, but she shakes her head. "I'm not that hungry."

Instead of assuaging him, his eyebrows knit together. "Are you alright?"

"Let her work up her appetite at her own pace," Brenner says without looking up from her cards. "As long as someone eats it, the food isn't going to waste."

He subsides but shoots her several furtive looks while he eats, just in case she changes her mind. After Shaun bangs a fist on the tabletop, flipping Kaelyn's cutlery into her lap and earning a round of applause from Miller, they decide to relocate. Nate takes her hand and shows her to the dorm, of which its most prominent feature is the number of empty beds.

The unease from yesterday lurks in the pit of her stomach, burrowing in its labyrinthine den. Nate's dog tags hang out of his shirt, and Kaelyn twines the chain between her fingers. "You don't have anywhere you need to be?"

"Only with you."

Oh, he's still got it.

After blanketing a corner of the dorm to create a play space, Kaelyn sits with her back against the wall, stretching her legs to create a crude boundary. Nate lowers himself beside Shaun to play, and soon their baby's delighted giggles echo through the room. Content to watch father and son bond, she hangs back and offers the occasional tip. Lethargy lines her bones with lead, fills her mind with fluff; it feels downright lazy to be on the verge of dozing off after just waking up, but it's all she can do to stay alert.

Shaun reaches for Nate and his expression cracks. That jogs Kaelyn's memory. "Oh—there's something we have to show you." She holds out her hands to Shaun. When his tiny hands are safely encased in hers, she gently pulls him upright.

Shaun wobbles on his feet, looking between his parents with a wide, cheeky smile.

Nate gasps and applauds. "That's my boy! You can stand up!"

"There's just one problem. He doesn't know how to sit down."

They spend the day like this, refusing to even mention anything outside their familial bubble, and Kaelyn is pulled in two directions as if she's the ball of yarn caught in a tug-of-war between two cats. She's at once relieved beyond measure and yet sick with guilt that she gets this time when who knows how many people are dead. Or worse.

The spaces of her heart are painted crimson and burnished with nuclear fire.

The scale of death still hasn't sunk in. Not really.

At last Nate shuffles to where she sits and kisses her cheek, tired but somehow reinvigorated. Shaun crawls after him and Nate tips over in a controlled fall to put them on eye level.

Kaelyn draws a knee up to her chest. "Nate?"

"Mmm?"

"Is there anyone else here?"

Gaze darkening, he toys with the buttons on his fatigues. "Just what's left of my squad—you've seen them all."

While she may not be privy to the logic of the armed forces, this assignment of Nate's seems too good to be true. The military should have no interest in Vault 111. "Why would the army send you here?"

"They, ah, didn't."

Kaelyn blinks. Then she plants one forearm beside his head to hover over him. "Nathaniel Stewart Prescott, are you telling me you deserted from the army?"

A myriad of emotions flicker across his face, too fast to catch, like tiny silver fish darting away from the circling shadow of a bird. But while guilt lingers in the tension around his mouth, his eyes are so very soft. "This is where I needed to be."

Cupping his jaw, Kaelyn leans down to kiss him, hard. The enormity of Nate's decision bears down on her with a near-tangible weight. As an army wife, she'd thought she'd made her peace with the fact she would always share her husband with the military. But now he's free of army trappings, and for the first time since they've met he's committed entirely to their family.

She pulls back, panting. "I love you."

He raises his head to press their foreheads together, tangling his fingers in her hair. "I love you, too."

After a quiet yet cheery dinner, Kaelyn returns to the infirmary as per Brenner's advice. Nate hangs back to play cards with Miller, but their air is too somber, their voices too low and furtive, for a friendly game. The clinic door hisses open and both Brenner and Sculley glance up. Apologies ready on her tongue, Kaelyn's about to back out of the room when Brenner gestures for her to stay.

Sculley leans against the doctor's desk while Brenner fiddles with a Geiger counter, and he gives Kaelyn a narrow-eyed look. She returns it steadily, refusing to be intimidated no matter his alarming personal state. He drops his gaze first. Scuffs a boot on the ground. "We done, Bren?"

"Only if you never call me Bren again. I have a needle with your name on it if you do."

Between the twin threats of a baby and a needle, Sculley makes a hasty escape, rolling down his sleeves as he goes. His fatigues hang loose off his frame these days. When the door hisses shut behind him, Kaelyn asks, "Is Sculley going to be alright?"

Brenner sighs and her shoulders slump. "I don't know."

"What's wrong with him?"

"Radiation exposure. His rad levels keep increasing, but he hasn't keeled over yet. I don't know how much longer he has left. Maybe he's a mutant—wouldn't put it past him, the bastard. Don't get me wrong, he's sick, but he should be dead by now and he's not."

"And he left army care to follow Nate?"

Brenner's hands tighten convulsively on her clipboard. "You don't—" She sets her jaw and tries again. "That isn't what they would have done. They'd have studied the effects of extreme radiation exposure."

"Ah."

Brenner gestures to the gurney and Kaelyn hops up. Again, she insists Brenner see to Shaun first. Tonight he is playful, taking her attempts to press the stethoscope to his chest as a new game when he isn't climbing over his mother the jungle gym. Her vault suit—and it is starting to get uncomfortable, not to mention sweaty—offers few handholds for an inquisitive baby to pull himself up, but that doesn't stop him from trying. Between Kaelyn's amusement and Brenner's good-natured exasperation, the latter finally concludes her medical exam.

"If you haven't noticed anything about him that's unusual, I'd say he's fine."

Relief washes through her at Brenner's pronouncement. If the stasis had harmed Shaun at all…

Since the door is shut, Kaelyn lowers Shaun to the floor with a toy to occupy him while Brenner checks her over. In addition to all yesterday's tests, Brenner also has her complete a number of small exercises, like touching her thumbs to each of her fingers, to prove she's retained her fine motor skills.

Satisfied at last, Brenner steps back and compares her notes. "Aside from lingering exhaustion and low appetite, I can't find anything wrong with you. If anything feels off or you don't feel back to normal in a week, come talk to me." She looks over Kaelyn a final time, her gaze lingering on the biometrics scanner over her heart. "Looks like Vault-Tec's experiment is a success."

Maybe it's meant as a reassurance, but Kaelyn feels a chill.