Alas, Nate's little bubble of paradise can't last. Miller has spent every free moment over the last few days planning. On the map spread over a table, she's highlighted several possible routes to Quincy. Her new pip-boy weighs down her wrist as she runs a finger along the shortest avenue. She's also pilfered the Cryolater from the Overseer's office, eager to field test it.

Not only that, but the pressing need for food looms heavier than ever with two more mouths, and more still frozen. Discussing it over breakfast makes everyone even more nervous.

Nate shifts in his seat, circling one hand around Shaun when the baby overbalances in his lap. "When you leave, I'll go up with you to comb over Sanctuary Hills for supplies."

Miller nods. "Don't take too long to gear up. I need to get moving."

Kaelyn adds, "Good idea. We need to look for Codsworth, and I wouldn't mind some proper clothes."

Nate must respectfully disagree on that last count, since that vault suit does some wonderful things for her figure. But then the first half of her answer clicks. "Hon, I don't think that's a good idea. It's not looking good up there."

She arches an eyebrow. "We'd only go as far as our house. Do you really think a trip that short will be dangerous?"

He looks from Kaelyn to Shaun, whose little hands are clenching and unclenching in Nate's scarf. "Still not a risk I want to take. Not with either of you."

Dissatisfied, Kaelyn turns to Brenner. "You said I'm in perfect health. Is there any reason why I shouldn't go?"

"My medical opinion is you shouldn't, actually. Radiation levels on the surface are lower than they were six months ago, but that doesn't mean it's safe out there. I also can't recommend taking Shaun to the surface, and he needs a guardian at all times."

The squad pass around the bottle of rad-x pills, keeping it out of Shaun's inquisitive reach. When he's on the cusp of tears, Kaelyn distracts him with another spoon. The pill bottle is immediately forgotten as he gnaws on the cutlery. Nate makes a mental note of that.

After breakfast, Kaelyn follows him out of the mess, and he braces against the coming storm. Out of hearing range so this doesn't become a show, he turns to face her. Nate knows all too well the kind of gossips his squad is comprised of.

"Alright, lay it on me."

"It's clear we need supplies, and as the one most familiar with the neighborhood it makes sense for you to go." There it is, in the tension around her eyes and the tight bow of her mouth. She's less than impressed, to put it mildly.

Sometimes coaxing her into admitting it can be a pain in the ass. He's always subscribed to the school of straightforwardness, himself. "Whatever you're thinking, just say it. I don't— don't want to leave things unresolved between us." If pressed, he can argue the distraction factor, that this might jeopardize his focus in the field. But Kaelyn hears the unspoken just in case.

Her voice is high and tight. "Really? Just like that, you're back and gone again? And I can't even walk a few hundred feet to my own house?"

"Look, I understand why you're not happy about this." And he means it: if their roles were reversed, he sure wouldn't appreciate being cooped up in the vault while his better half takes all the risks. "I'll poke around with the Geiger counter, and when background radiation levels are low enough, you can go up if you really want to." A part of him protests this concession, wanting to protect her from the hell up there. But sometimes there isn't much difference between a safety blanket and a straitjacket.

Kaelyn nods, slowly, wavy hair bouncing along her collar. When she next speaks, her voice is quiet. Subdued. "How… bad is it up there? Did anyone make it?"

She doesn't need to know about the bodies by the gates. "We've seen a few survivors on the surface, but things are pretty dire up there."

Kaelyn nods again. Hardly an unexpected answer.

Nate strokes a thumb across her cheek. "I know it's hard, and I know it's so soon, but we need food, yesterday. This time I won't be going far. Just checking out the neighborhood."

"I just— I wish you didn't have to leave again."

"I know. But it won't be for long this time. Promise."

"I wish things were—" she halts, a self-deprecating smile crossing her face. "Listen to me. The world just burned in a nuclear war, and here I am complaining."

"I understand why you're unhappy. I really do. But as long as you and Shaun stay down here, you're safe."

She closes the gap between them, her hand resting over his heart. "I just wish you could be safe, too."

He covers her hand with his own, his chest so full and tight he can't speak. She doesn't seem to be expecting a response, though, so he bows his head and enjoys the warmth of her touch burning through his shirt.

That's as good as it's going to get between them. "Anything you want me to pick up from home?"

Her voice is soft. "Find out what happened to Codsworth."

Even if they bought Codsworth only a week before Nate shipped out, even if his only glimpses of the robot have been through Kaelyn's missives, a lump forms in his throat. Codsworth had been there for Kaelyn and Shaun when he wasn't. Weird feeling to owe a robot, but there it is. "Will do. Anything else?"

She catches her lower lip between her teeth as she thinks. "Shaun needs clothes. And toys. Bring back whatever's left in the nursery."

Her selflessness would be inspiring if not for the fact Nate wants to do this for her. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he asks, "And what about you? Personally?"

"My clothes. My Nuka-World mug—and coffee. All the coffee you can find. If my toothbrush isn't glowing green, grab it. And my hairbrush too."

Leaving her with promises to find everything she asked for, Nate detours to the dorm. "Hey, Dylan. You mind sitting this one out?"

With her personal arsenal already spread on the bed like an unnervingly lethal slumber party, maybe he should have brought it up earlier. The woman herself, perched on the corner of the mattress, doesn't look up from the first aid kit she's packing. "You want me to stay back to keep your wife from doing anything stupid."

"Kaelyn doesn't do stupid things. She acts with logic and forethought, and I understand why she's less than happy."

"Doesn't change the fact you want me to keep an eye on her."

"Not just because of that but… yeah. I don't want to leave her and Shaun down here alone."

Brenner agrees with a shrug and hands him the first aid kit. He returns to his neglected pack to gear up. The familiar ritual of checking his weapons, buckling up his combat armor, preps more than his body, his brain shifting gears into a combat-ready state. He's the last one out of the dorm, and jogs down the corridors to find Miller. They agreed she'd take their scavenged water purifier. But that isn't all.

Nate now hands over a bag he's stuffed with as many rations he could fit in. "Take it. You can move faster if you don't have to forage for food."

Miller's gaze drops to the backpack, temptation scrawled over her face. "You know how important that is."

Nate swings it back and forth like a pendulum. "Consider it a thank you. You never had to help me get into the vault; you could have split for Quincy the moment we saw Boston."

That convinces her, and she hefts the bag over her shoulder. "Appreciate it. Vault 111 is probably safer than anything out there. If we can manage it, Sculley and I will bring my family back here."

Nate claps her on the shoulder. "You guys are always welcome, Gina."

She nods, but her eyes grow distant. "If we can manage it."

"If… if you can't find your family," he ventures, "you're still welcome to come back."

She nods again, with far less cheer.

The last one to hunt down is Sculley, who paces near the exit zone. "Heard you're going with."

"I ain't stayin' here dyin' soft," Sculley snaps. "If I can keep Miller alive long enough to find her family, then it'll be worth it." He rarely mentioned any family, but Nate always had the impression that wherever he came from, it hadn't been anywhere good. At least he has no one to worry about out there.

Goodbyes exchanged, the residents of Vault 111 gather in the exit zone. All six of them.

Kaelyn eyes Nate's weapons but says nothing. First his laser rifle, conspicuous block of technology it is, but her gaze gets stuck on his combat knife and he isn't entirely sure what that means. Shaun is balanced on her hip, a pink-gummed smile lighting his face.

It's a kick in the heart—the good kind. He and Shaun will become friends even if it kills him. Nate smiles back and lets Shaun grab his finger. "Won't be gone long, kiddo. Behave for Mommy, alright?"

Shaun squeals, which Nate takes as a 'not likely but possible'. Then and only then does he dare to look at Kaelyn, who watches them with a faint smile playing across her lovely features. Thus softened, she meets his gaze willingly enough, even if that unhappy glint remains buried in her dark eyes. Maybe she can fool prosecutors and police, but not him.

"Be careful out there." Doesn't matter how soft her voice is, Sergeant Prescott knows an order when he hears one.

"Bye, honey. I love you." He takes a moment to gauge frustration level, then goes for a kiss. For a half-second he wonders if she'll turn her face away, but her fingers clamp on either side of his face, curling around his jaw and yanking him closer for a proper open-mouthed kiss.

The urgent requirement of oxygen and Shaun's roving hands forces them to part, their flighty breaths mingling in the space between them. He bumps her forehead with his. "I'll be back before you know it."

Before he can pull away, she grips his chin. Digs her nails in for the briefest moment. "You better, big guy."

They part to a respectable distance, Kaelyn reclaiming Shaun from Brenner and Nate wandering over to the power armor as if they didn't just majorly breach propriety in public.

Sculley waggles his eyebrows—or what's left of them. It's hard to tell from the hemorrhaging in his eyes, but it looks like he's directing the gesture over Nate's shoulder. "Aren'tcha gonna say goodbye to me?"

Arching a disdainful eyebrow, Kaelyn holds out a hand. "Goodbye, Sculley."

Eyes narrowed, Sculley searches for any hint of a trap before grabbing her hand. Their shake is rough enough to make Nate wince internally, but some inexplicable moment passes between them, and when they step back there isn't a scowl to be had between them. Nate can hardly believe it—and wishes he had a camera for posterity.

A final round of goodbyes pass between them. If they just continue making jokes about meeting up for a beer and a radioactive roast afterward, maybe it'll happen. Kaelyn gently waves Shaun's hand in a goodbye that's both bittersweet and absurdly adorable. Miller waves back, and someone in power armor waving an over-sized hand at a baby takes the cake for the weirdest yet heartening thing he's ever seen. The elevator pulls away with a groan and Nate watches his family through the grille until they've vanished from sight.

Sculley flexes his hand. "She didn't even flinch."

Ah. Nate bumps his side with an elbow. "Why should she? She knows you."

Curling his hands into fists, he shoves them into his pockets. "I have looked in a mirror, you know."

To go for the sympathetic response or the tease? "'Bout as ugly as normal, buddy."

Sculley snorts. "Keep your flirtin' for your wife."

"Two things, my man: one, I'm married, as you just pointed out. Two, I prefer gents with class."

As it turns out, the elevator's waiting time isn't just a form of torture Nate's anxious brain inflicted on him last time. He and Sculley sit cross-legged on the platform and play a round of cards. Nate almost has him beat when the air changes from damp and stale to dusty and fresh; a wayward gust of air then messes up the cards. That doesn't stop Sculley from crowing about his assured victory as he chases the scattered deck like they're ration cards. Miller waits in silence, but from the way the power armor squeaks, she's probably shifting her weight from foot to foot, the motion too slight to show but enough to engage the internal motion sensors.

Impatience drives her to traverse half the construction yard before Nate and Sculley even make it to their feet. Understanding that urge, Nate jogs to catch up, reaching her at the sidewalk. To the left, his vacant home. Straight ahead, the road his comrades must take.

No more delaying. With the element of surprise, Nate manages to hook an arm around Sculley's neck and reel him in. "Take care."

Sculley returns the rough embrace. "See you on the other side, buddy."

No point offering a hand to Miller let alone a hug, so he makes do with smacking her armored elbow. "Say hi to Kenzie and your kids for me."

"Thanks, Prescott. Hope you and your family stay safe here."

Nate steps out of the way as she runs a last-minute systems check and Sculley hefts his pack more comfortably over his shoulders. They march down the street and cross the bridge—and it's wrong to see power armor here. Even more wrong that its wear and tear matches the ruined neighborhood. He watches until they're out of sight and even the reverberating clang of the power armor's mechanized footsteps has receded to the sigh of the dry breeze rattling down the street.

With a sigh of his own, Nate says his final goodbye to half his remaining squad and turns to his next objective.

Sanctuary Hills has fared better than other areas, but that doesn't make it any easier to see. Maybe there's something to be said for lead paint after all—

Pain spikes the back of his head and Nate jerks around. The rock that hit him clatters on the asphalt.

The only motion in the street is from the breeze that rustles the patchy grass.

A hiss echoes from inside his own house. Light reflects off chrome and— "By I live and breathe! Sir? Is that really you?"

The robot floats towards the front door, the orange blast of his jet propulsion highlighting the dents in his shell. All three eye stalks point in Nate's direction, artificial irises blown wide in a mimicry of shock.

Nate lowers his rifle at once. With a now-free hand he can rub the bump on the back of his skull. "Codsworth? You made it!"

"I could say the same to you, Mister Nate!" A final propulsion burst and Codsworth hovers in the rectangle of light on the threshold. "We were expecting you to be home months ago, sir. I'm afraid if you're looking for mum and young Shaun, they've already entered Vault 111 to escape the dreadful radiation. When mum signed the registration forms, she was adamant you be given a place as well. They should let you right in."

Way ahead of you on that one, buddy. "I've already been into—"

There's a crash in the house behind him. Instinct sends him whirling again, rifle raised, alert for incoming threats. Ms Rosa's house is bright and vacant and menacing.

The first sign of life is a blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment. The curtains flutter, but there's no breeze.

Heart in his throat, torn in two directions, Nate waits with his rifle trained on the house. There's a growl from inside, a clatter, and the door creaks—

"Not to worry, sir!" Codsworth chimes. "It's just the neighbors!"

"Mr Prescott? Is that you?" Ms Rosa steps out of the carport, her brown hair loosened from its usual chignon.

Lowering his rifle for a second time, pulse jumping in his throat, Nate switches the safety on for good measure. No one can afford a trigger-happy accident. "Sure is!" he calls back. Once he manages to stop staring, that is.

She glances back to the house and yells, "I told you!"

Turns out Nate isn't finished gaping as another four of his neighbors trudge out of the house, dirtied and anxious. Ms Rosa stands behind her son Luis, snaring his shoulder in her white-knuckled grip. Mrs and Mrs Fisher are more or less glued to each other, squeezing each others' hands. Jack Hawthorne, his dark hair in styled disarray, folds his skinny arms across his chest.

It's impressive that after a war that almost knocked humanity off the face of the earth, people can keep on surviving.

Ms Rosa looks down at her son. "What do you say to Mr Prescott?"

Luis scuffs his bare feet on the asphalt, his expression mutinous. "Sorry for throwing a rock at you."

Figures it had been the local nightmare kid. Less than fond of Luis' antics on the best of days, Nate barks, "Don't ever startle a soldier like that. I could have shot you!"

That proclamation earns him several gasps of horror from his neighbors. The Fishers huddle closer together, their arms encircling each others' waists.

Ah. Yes. Well. That pronouncement, naturally, isn't going to go over well with civilians.

Realizing he's in army mode, Nate relaxes his guard, deliberately slouching to put his neighbors at ease.

"Mr Prescott?" Jacinta Fisher takes a half-step closer, the whites of her eyes stark against her brown complexion. "It was you the whole time? You're the one who went up to the vault?"

"Sure was." Looking over these people with their ashen faces, fear and hunger wreaking havoc on them, he wishes he had explored the street. "I'm sorry I didn't find you guys earlier."

"How did you get into the vault? We tried, but the elevator never budged."

"One of my squad is an engineer; she hotwired the controls." With a working pip-boy now latched around his wrist, he can access the elevator as he pleases.

Luis peers up at him, his earlier grump evident in his voice when he asks, "Why'd you bother coming back up? It's gotta be much nicer down there."

"Once Vault 111 sealed, that was it. No one bothered to check if we were even still alive," Anna Fisher adds. Her mouth thins in a hard line, her blue eyes turning stormy.

Their jealousy is boggling. How could they want to be part of the experiment—oh. Right. "Vault 111 wasn't what anyone thought it would be," he answers grimly. "They used the residents as test subjects for cryogenic stasis."

That gets a reaction. Ms Rosa's eyebrows reach her hairline as her grip tightens convulsively on Luis' shoulder. The Fishers gasp, while Hawthorne is darkly amused. And Luis? The kid snickers.

"Are… are they alive?" Fingers pressed to her mouth, Jacinta's question is muffled. "Are Mrs Prescott and Shaun…?"

"Yeah, they're okay." Even if Jacinta looks relieved, there are too many faces in the group that remain unmoved by the momentous news. Understandable, even if Nate disagrees. "Most of our neighbors are still frozen. We need food. Badly. How have you managed to survive up here?"

"Mr Jahani has a root cellar," Anna says, her voice a mere wisp of her bubbly vibrancy Nate remembers. "There wasn't enough room for all of us. Not everyone made it in time before the bomb hit. Some of the others left not long ago."

Nate scans the array of faces but can't find Mr Jahani. Before he can remark on it, Anna continues unprompted, "When it rained, Mr Jahani went outside to collect the water and…" Her pinched white face tells the rest.

"It's alright," he says softly. "You don't have to say any more."

"Are Vault-Tec's staff still down there?" Ms Rosa asks. "For all its amenities, I'm not sure if I would be comfortable knowing what they've done. I almost signed us up."

Nate shakes his head. "They turned on each other. If there were any survivors, they've already cleared out. I'm going to recover what I can from home. If you want to come with, you should do the same. When everybody's ready, I'll take you down."

Despite Ms Rosa's misgivings, the prospect of hot showers wins them over. The surviving families peel away to their respective houses. With Codsworth by his side, Nate draws in a deep breath and pushes open the front door.

He'd never thought he'd live to see this. No, that isn't quite right. He'd hoped he'd never see his home turn into a battlefield.

Glass crunches under his boot and Nate glances down. Raises his foot the moment it registers what he's stepping on. Crouching down, he turns the black picture frame over in his hands. Its frame is dusty and dented, and the certificate of Kaelyn's law degree is nestled inside behind the cracked glass. A little smudged and stained, but in one piece.

Codsworth bobs by his side. "Sir, after mum and young Master Shaun left for the vault, I collected a few things to keep them safe. It isn't much, I'm afraid." He holds a silver jewelry box in his pincers.

"Codsworth," Nate breathes, "I could kiss you."

"As much as I appreciate the sentiment, sir, I would prefer you didn't." But his circuits hum with pride.

The box itself, embossed with intricate swirling designs, is one of Kaelyn's family heirlooms, brought all the way from Sri Lanka when her grandparents moved to the States. And when he opens the latch, he finds a treasure trove of trinkets, besides their house keys. Nate's signed baseball and a newspaper clipping of Kaelyn's first big win in court. The birthday card Kaelyn and his mother arranged when he was in hospital in '72 after catching shrapnel in his hip. The bright colors of Grognak issue one peek out from the bottom of the box, underneath Kaelyn's engagement ring.

There's also a stack of photos that includes their wedding pictures. As Kaelyn's husband he is contractually obligated to catch his breath when he sees her in her wedding sari. Nate flips through the stack. Their smiles, their clean faces—it feels like a lifetime ago.

Admittedly, a small part of him is pleased because this might save him from the doghouse. Nate puts Kaelyn's degree in the box for safekeeping and it has the pride of being the first recovered possession that goes in his pack.

He moves into the kitchen. The windows have all been smashed, but the floor is clear of glass. Someone cleaned out the fridge and the pantry hasn't fared much better. Snagging Kaelyn's mug from beside the coffee pot, Nate proceeds to scour every cupboard for every tin of soup that might've been overlooked.

"I do apologize, Mister Nate. The neighbors said they couldn't reach the rationing center and it seemed better than letting the perishables go to waste. You know how expensive milk is these days!"

Nate waves a hand. "No problem. Now pack all this up while I grab some clothes. Then find me a shovel."

"At once, sir!" If anything, Codsworth is pleased to be bossed around again.

At the end of the hall, the cupboard doors hang ajar. Must've been knocked by the blast, because Nate's emergency stash is safe under the towels. It includes first aid kit stuffed with everything he could scrounge, cans of purified water, tinned foods, a wad of now-useless cash. After clearing that out, Nate ventures into the nursery.

The mobile on Shaun's crib is crooked, the blue rockets dangling over a moldy mattress. Unsure which toys mean the most to Shaun—and frustrated that he doesn't know, that he wasn't here to know—Nate collects everything. His toy blocks, the car, even going so far to fish the teddy bear from under the crib.

In their own room, the dressers sit crooked, their family photos scattered across the floor under a minefield of glass shards. Nate rescues the photos with care. One is of Kaelyn's mom, may she rest in peace. His heart clenches when he sees his own parents. His brothers, in the rare moment that someone got all four Prescott boys sitting in front of a camera.

Even now, he's half tempted to search for them. If Kaelyn and Shaun made it, maybe they did too. But he can't leave now, not so soon. Maybe after everything's settled here. So he shoves the photos in his jacket pocket, along with his dissatisfaction and desire.

Instead, Nate clears out their wardrobe. Having more than one pair of pants is a gift he will never again take for granted. He then grabs as many of Kaelyn's clothes that will fit in their suitcase, including the pinstriped skirt. Victory. Nate eyes the bed, the blankets still neatly pressed—Codsworth's doing, no doubt—and his heart clenches. Every morning he woke up here next to his wife… it won't be something he'll ever do again.

Nate wanders to the backyard with that shovel. Between a dead yard and imperfect memory, he has to guess the spot. When his shovel hits something metal, he drops to his knees to pull out the box. Inside is a few thousand dollars in emergency cash, a few ration cards, and a 10mm pistol.

Kaelyn had made several fair arguments against having it: that she didn't want a lethal weapon anywhere near Shaun, that the neighborhood was safe, that someone could find it and cause a terrible mess. No names mentioned, but she'd been referring to Luis.

Still, he'd kept the 10mm.

Not something he's proud of, and that it wasn't technically in the house isn't the kind of loophole that sits right with him. At the time, fresh off his tour, the thought of being without a gun made him sweat. Now? They need every weapon they can get their hands on.

Returning to the street, Nate waits with Codsworth, the latter chattering away about the weather, the milkman's lateness, the curious lack of mail for the past eight months.

"But at least there haven't been any bills, eh, sir?" Codsworth stretches one appendage as if going to clap Nate on the shoulder with the flat of a saw blade.

That's something Nate isn't going to miss. Along with taxes. "You got that right, buddy."

His neighbors assemble with bags and suitcases and all the food they've scavenged over the months, which will give them some breathing room. And Hawthorne, oddly enough, carries a cooler.

Nate raises an eyebrow. "Nuka-Cola stash?"

"My products," he answers. "Maybe I can't run my store anymore, but this stuff is still valuable."

Nate leads the way up the hill. Having to step past the bodies by the gate—and he's going to have to bury them too—doesn't earn the horror from his neighbors that he expects. In that moment, he realizes they are as much hard-eyed survivors as the civilians in Geneso.

Now that's an unsettling thought. The knife scar on Nate's ribs aches.

His neighbors grow more nervous as the elevator descends. The Welcome Home sign that greets them feels a little less ironic this time. Quiet is not a word that applies to the elevator, so Kaelyn, Shaun and Brenner are drawn from the depths of Vault 111 to greet them. When Nate sees his family, his heart can march back to its proper spot in his chest and let him breathe in peace.

Brenner raises an eyebrow at the influx of new people. "When I said 'find food', this isn't what I had in mind."

Kaelyn eyes her sidewards. "It's too soon for cannibalism jokes, Dylan."

Shaun reaches for Nate and his son's desire is his command. Settling Shaun in the crook of his arm, Nate drops a kiss to his dark, silky hair and then tucks Kaelyn against his other side. Brushing his mouth against the shell of her ear, he murmurs, "See? I told you I wouldn't be gone long."

This only makes Kaelyn tighten her hold, her nails digging through his jacket. Not that he's complaining, mind.

"Mum!" A jet burst propels Codsworth closer, his artificial irises blown wide. "I am beyond relieved that you've been safe down here!"

Her face lightens. "Codsworth! You're alive!"

"Mrs Prescott!" Jacinta gasps, and Kaelyn steps past Nate to greet their neighbors.

Nate makes the formal introductions to Brenner, if that kind of thing even matters anymore, and shows them to the dormitory. "That bed is Dylan's, but otherwise take your pick."

The Fishers claim a single bed to share, of course, and Luis is of an age where he trots to the back corner thinking it'll make him a rebel. Ms Rosa sits heavily on the corner of the nearest bed, pressing a hand into the mattress; her eyes grow wet. Hawthorne, however, sprawls on his bunk, hooking one arm behind his head and the other around his cooler.

Nate cocks his head. Store, eh? "I'll bite. What on earth are your 'products'?"

"Chems."

Kaelyn arches a cool eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Mentats, buffout, and even a little something special…" Hawthorne digs inside the cooler for a lunch box and pops the lid.

Nate sucks in a breath. "Where did you get that?"

He knows psycho. Boy, does he know psycho. Too many people he's served with have gotten hooked on that junk; from his own squad, Weiss had been an occasional user. Meddling from the officers had kept Nate from throwing the book at him, because apparently chem use was okay as long as the army got better soldiers out of it.

Hawthorne just looks smug. "I have my ways."

Kaelyn watches all this with that raised eyebrow. "This is clearly a concern for you, hon. Can you explain?"

Irritation grips Nate; he'd expected instant support. Then he realizes she isn't doing it because she doubts him, but for the benefit of their neighbors. "Psycho is made for soldiers. Increases aggression, dampens pain receptors, that sort of thing. I've seen what that junk does to people, and it ain't pretty."

"What's the fuss in here?" Brenner lounges in the doorway, hooking her thumbs through the loops on her belt.

"Hawthorne got his hands on psycho."

That kills her flippant attitude. "You little… Only way to get that is from the army."

The guy—just a kid, really, who probably wanted easy money—puffs himself up. "I pride myself on my professional contacts."

Nate hesitates, makes a snap decision. "Alright. Hand it over."

"Hey, man, you can't just take what you want," he flares. "These are my personal belongings!"

"Nice try. Psycho is dangerous, and I'm not letting you put everyone here at risk." Being twice the other man's size, Nate can confiscate the cooler with ease.

"Psh." He waves a hand. "You military types are all the same."

Nate's about to tell him that if he wants to leave, there's the door, but Kaelyn intercedes again. "Hawthorne, I understand that's what it looks like, but living in the vault won't be the same as living in the neighborhood. We have to consider how our actions will impact the whole community. In this instance, I trust the judgment of two people who have seen psycho's effects first hand."

Hawthorne isn't convinced, muttering something uncomplimentary under his breath, but the Fishers are thoughtful. Rather than risk further confrontation, Nate and Brenner beat a hasty retreat to the clinic. Brenner unpacks the assorted chems from the cooler to note them in the inventory, but even she pauses before opening the lunch box. Three syringes rest inside, swaddled in the remains of a shirt.

Nate's hands ball into fists. "Who was buying these? If anyone in our street was doing psycho…"

Nausea rushes him at the thought that Kaelyn and Shaun might have been in danger the whole damn time.

What he doesn't realize is that Kaelyn followed them in until she rests her hand in the crook of his elbow. "The army really created psycho?"

Brenner nods.

Another detail he'd never wanted her to know. Nate had almost been forced on the stuff himself. Brenner had pulled strings to put a notation in his file that he wasn't a viable subject for psycho use, but the close call had rattled him.

"I vote we destroy it."

"Not so fast." Brenner holds up a hand. "It could be useful. Not for what you're thinking, Nate. It might be possible to break it down into its components or synthesize something else from it. Point is, we can't afford to waste anything."

Nate's about to protest—she knows bloody well what psycho does to people—when Kaelyn rests her hand on his arm. "How about a compromise, then? Keep the chems locked away where no one can find them until we ever need them."

The combination of love and logic always trips him. Always. No one else has learned to harness both so effectively. Nate huffs a frustrated breath. "Fine. Just—keep it well-hidden. Pick a password no one will guess."

Brenner cocks an eyebrow. "I guess 1-2-3-4 is out."

"I'll smooth over any ruffled feathers." Kaelyn stretches on her toes to peck his cheek and leaves. Shaun peeps over her shoulder at him, and when he smiles, Nate's own mouth curves up in response. The door hisses shut, leaving him alone with Brenner—the last of his squad. Possibly the last of Fox Company, if they even have the right to the name anymore.

Brenner remarks, "Damn. She knows what she's doing."

—

As a peace offering, Kaelyn hunts down towels for each of the vault's new residents and points them to the showers. If that doesn't improve morale, Nate doesn't know what will.

Kaelyn watches them with that inscrutable expression she wears when she feels it isn't safe to express herself. Sometimes it means she's in the courtroom, but Nate wonders why she's wearing it now.

At least she doesn't keep him in suspense. "I don't know whether to feel guilty I got off lightly compared to them, or grateful."

He wraps an arm around her shoulders. "Never feel guilty for being alive. It all just boils down to luck."

Kaelyn is quiet for a long time, but her eyes are sad. "Why would Vault-Tec do this?"

"Wish I knew. Gotta wonder if the other vaults are running experiments as well…" Not the cheeriest of thoughts.

She closes her eyes.

He pulls her against his side. "What, you think you should have known when you signed us up?"

Her weights shifts just enough to tell him he's right.

"You did the right thing, okay? Even if I'd never made it here, you took action to keep yourself and Shaun safe. That's all I ever want for the two of you."

"Safe as guinea pigs for Vault-Tec's experiments?"

Nate runs one hand over her shoulder and along the curve of her spine, pressing gently at the point of tension in her back. "You never could have known what they intended."

"But what if you hadn't come along and freed us? The staff are dead. How long would we have been frozen? Until the systems failed and we all died—"

He grips her shoulders. "Take it easy, hon. Best not to linger on what-ifs. It didn't play out that way, so don't agonize over something that hasn't happened. It's energy you can't afford to waste."

She eyes him, and again with that damn poker face. "Is that your soldierly wisdom? Learned on the field of battle and all that?"

Thinking of Fox Company pricks him with guilt. "You bet."

Sensing his sudden unease, Kaelyn's face softens. She takes his hand, lacing their fingers together, and tugs him to the clinic where Codsworth has been babysitting Shaun. With a gentle shove, Kaelyn pushes him into the nearest chair. Nate sighs as he sinks into the padding.

"Long day?" She pulls up her own chair and scoops his foot into her lap to struggle with his laces. Army lacing is a little more complicated than standard knots.

"Yeah. Something of a roller coaster. Going home… wasn't like what I'd pictured when I was in the trenches. But I'm glad we found survivors." His toes curl when she peels off his sock, not wanting to expose her to the nastiness of sweaty feet, but she halts his squirming by pressing her thumb to the arch of his foot.

Nate holds back a groan.

Damn, that feels good. And she knows it, too, as she lowers her head to conceal a smile. "You like that?"

"Don't stop."

Kaelyn hums as she rubs circles on the ball of his foot. She finds the tension in his foot and works it into a pleasant ache. It's an old strategy they'd learned to cope after his long absences, since nothing can put a dampener on intimacy like his army service and associated traumas. But they're both physical people, and this kind of contact can work wonders when they're learning how to be comfortable in each other's presence again.

Since Nate can't have all the fun, he pats his thigh and Kaelyn lifts one slender foot into his lap. With some rearrangement to compensate for their size difference, they can comfortably sit and share a mutual foot rub. Nate's thumb digs into the sensitive ball of her foot and has the satisfaction of making her squeak.

Their silence is easy and warm, and Nate finds himself relaxing. The sounds of Shaun's soft breathing and Codsworth's puttering disguise the vault's naturally creepy ambiance.

It almost feels like home. Almost.