A/N: Ah, the introduction to everyone's favourite sneak (I love you, Ryan Alosio).

15. A Wild and Dangerous Ride

Beth POV

I've Got You Under My Skin by Landau Eugene Murphy Jr.

Don't Worry, We'll Be Watching You by Gotye

We had heard it mentioned briefly when we went to Goodneighbor the other day—the Freedom Trail. It's been a long time since I've heard those words, I admitted to Robert. It was decided that we were walking that trail, no matter the warnings, no matter how hard. Feral ghouls, super mutants, and Gunners alike had put up their share of a fight along the way, but we were determined to see where the trail ended regardless—I couldn't remember for the life of me. We eventually came to the end of the red markings.

"A church?" he asks. "Why a church?"

"I don't know. Maybe because people didn't feel oppressed in churches?" I suggest.

After walking in, we run smack into a group of more ghouls—My favourite, I think—and slay them all. After looking around the rather ransacked and dilapidated room, we find a door leading to the catacomb-like recesses below the church.

"Tunnel Snakes rule! Sorry… I heard that a long time ago." After I look at Robert with a confused face, he clarifies, "It's something Butch used to say all the time—well, according to Kate. Apparently he was the leader of a gang in 101 called that." We laugh. "He's something else."

"Sounds like it." As we move our way through the tombs, I look at all the dates. "Man, these people died a long time ago. At least they didn't have to experience the end of the world." Cutting my thoughts short, I spot a piece of paper tucked behind one of the plaques. "What's this?" I pull the paper out and read it. "'Railroad.' What is that supposed to mean?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "No idea. Trains haven't been used in I don't know how long. Looks like that paper isn't that old. Someone trying to throw passersby off?"

"Ah, who knows." I put the paper in the side of my boot.

As we keep walking, we come to a giant plaque looking thing on the wall near a dead end. With an arrow pointed up, and a power cable connected to seemingly nothing, I gasp suddenly. "What if that word goes on here?!" I pull the paper out and try to remember how these things used to work when I was a little girl. "It's like a giant decoder ring!" I individually put each letter of the word 'railroad' at the tip of the arrow. When I press the middle down, a door to my left—which I couldn't even see before—slides open. "There we go."

With utter confusion on his face, Robert asks, "What just happened?"

"We'll find out in a second," I say as I walk into the darkness.

"Got a light on that fancy wristwatch?"

"Hush." I'm about to turn it on when we get blinded by a light ahead of us.

"Stop right there," a woman tells us. "Who the hell are you and how did you get in here?"

"I'm just a curious explorer." I decide taking the evasive route would be better. "And I found the code down there." I point to where we came from. As I say this, a man walks in from the door behind the woman. I can now see—since I'm not blinded anymore—that she is flanked by a young man in a blue jacket and a tough looking chick with a minigun.

When the woman in the middle—the one who was talking—notices his presence, "Deacon. Where have you been?"

"Heard a party out here. What gives with my invitation?"

"Our 'guest' here says she found the code to our door right outside in the tombs. Would you happen to know anything about that?"

The man—who is wearing sunglasses, despite our being indoors—hesitates only slightly before saying, "Nope. Not a thing, Dez."

She seems to not trust him all the way, but ultimately believes him. She turns back to me. "So, how did you find us?"

"We were in Goodneighbor the other day. Heard someone mention the Freedom Trail. It's been a long while since I've seen it, so here we are." I finally notice Robert—he's standing semi behind me, semi beside me, looking tense as ever. Seems like he's wanting to reach for his gun pretty badly, and could at any second.

"That simple?" the woman asks.

"That simple."

She for some reason now seems to believe me, as she indulges me in some details. "I'm Desdemona, and I'm the leader of the Railroad. Hear of our cause?"

"Like transportation?" I ask. "Or Harriet Tubman kind of stuff?"

"I suppose you could compare us to the original Underground Railroad. But, the kind of slaves we help are different. Familiar with synths?"

"Yes." I think of the nasty Gen 1s and 2s back at Fort Hagen.

"We help them. Some want to escape the Institute, even if it's the last thing they ever do. And we aid them in this. They are slaves to the people of the Institute, and when they no longer wish to be, we help them the best we can by giving them a new, better life."

"I see." I now notice how Robert has calmed down considerably, except for him watching the minigun chick diligently.

"Tell me," the woman—Desdemona—goes on. "What do you think of our synth brothers and sisters?"

"Like, the Skeletor ones or the mannequin and dummy looking ones?"

"We do not help Gen 1s and 2s. We help Gen 3s. What is your opinion on them?" I find it odd how she asks only me these questions—as if Robert isn't standing right here with me.

"I don't know too much about them," I admit. "If I've come across very many, I'm unaware." I think for a second. "They're okay, I guess."

"Good enough," the man—Deacon—says. Quietly, "Dez, we need help. Let her join."

"No," she responds. "We know nothing about this woman. She could be a liability to us."

"Um, I think you forget who you're talking to." He raises his voice higher for us all to hear. "I know that she's in the Brotherhood. Even at Initiate rank, you have to admit that that is impressive. Annnd… as if that wasn't enough: she and twiggers over there cleared out Spectacle Island by themselves." At her clear astonishment, he adds, "I know, right?" She looks to me.

"You've accomplished these tasks?" she asks and I nod sheepishly. "Okay. Well, this changes things. Talk to Deacon," she gives him a look and he nods at her. "I have some work I need to attend to, so if you'll excuse me."

As she, minigun chick, and the young man in blue leave, Deacon stands there, leaning against the wall. After they're gone, he walks down some steps and towards us. "Sorry. She can be such a hardass."

From what I've observed so far, I decide to speak up. "So, you wrote that code." It's more of a statement than a question.

"I already said I didn't." I can't read his eyes through the sunglasses, but I don't really need to.

"No. You did. I know a liar when I see one."

"I'm afraid you're mistaken." He's diligent on keeping up his façade.

"Buddy," Robert chimes in. "She knows what she's talking about. Trust me." He makes a face at him, as if I'd caught him many times in lies himself.

"Okay. Maybe I put… the… note… Okay, fine. Yes, I put it there." Caught ya, I think.

"Why did you put it there, then?"

"For you guys."

I'm taken aback. "Wait… For us?" I point to Robert and myself.

"Yeah. I knew you were coming, and that frickin' letter ring is hard to figure out if you're not in the know."

"…You… knew we were coming? How?" I am utterly flabbergasted.

"Well, let's just say I happened to be in Goodneighbor the other day… And that I may have purposefully brought up the Freedom Trail with a drifter…" I now recall seeing a man with the same kind of sunglasses on… I still don't even know how he knew about the BOS or Spectacle Island.

"You've been following us," I accuse.

"Despite what you think, Diamond City doesn't have the best dick in the Commonwealth."

This comment rubs Robert the wrong way. Stepping closer to him a little, "Hey, now. Watch it."

I look to him, "He didn't mean it like that…" This only makes Deacon chuckle.

"I like you guys. I've been hoping we'd get along." Boy, he's not shy with the whole spy thing, is he? "Say. There's this thing we here at the Railroad need help with. You two are more than capable, with you clearing Mirelurk Island and all. If you help us out with this, Dez is bound to let you in our little fiesta." He looks straight at me. "We have cookies." I can't help but to laugh out loud.

"Hope you have a lot," I say. "It's been a while since I've had some and I could totally down a whole box right now."

"No worries. We have a stockpile." He grins. "Anyway. Getting down to brass tacks: we need help getting a prototype from our old HQ. It got wiped out by those pesky knuckleheads a little while back." He scoffs. "It's gonna be one wild and dangerous ride, I can tell you that."

"Wild? Dangerous? I'm up for it. You in?" I ask Robert.

"You know I'm not not going to be, so sure." Deacon looks confused, so he clarifies with a sigh, "Yes. We're in."

"Awesomesauce!" Deacon exclaims. "Let me know when you're ready to go. It's in Lexington, by the way."

"No biggie. I know the area. Let's go."

As we walked to Lexington, I noticed that Deacon was allowing us to lead the way as he hung behind. I thought to myself, Well, if he knew that much, who's to say he didn't already know that I'm familiar with the geography around here.

He made a comment on my vaultsuit also. So, you're from a vault? he asked. As if you didn't already know, I retorted. I was surprised to see him shrug, as if he was admitting it.

We talked more when we were closer to Switchboard, as he'd called it. I found myself actually enjoying this odd man's company—Robert, on the other hand, not so much. I thought maybe—maybe—he was jealous. Although, I couldn't tell why. Deacon wasn't flirting or anything—just being friendly. I thought perhaps it was how I was reacting to him. Instead of being freaked out, I was just going along with it. Maybe it was just due to the proximity of another male. But I had the notion that Deacon was a straight-up kind of guy, so I just rolled with it, ignoring Robert for the main part.

It wasn't until we were almost there that Deacon actually did start to freak me out a bit.

"How do you know that?"

"Know what? About your being Pre-War or about you leaving the vault in October?"

"Yeah," I say, "both of those."

"Well, when your job is intel, you kinda have to be good with knowing stuff." He pauses for a minute. "…I also might've possibly maybe most definitely actually seen you leave the vault."

If I had water in my mouth, I would have spit it out. "You what?!" I ask in shock.

"You what?!" Robert asks—with an edge of anger—after me, the slightest delay keeping it from being in sync.

We come to a complete stop, Deacon nearly running into me in the process. Whipping around, I try to ask him, Why, how? Instead, I end up blubbering, no words coming out. He seems to know what I'm wanting to know.

"We keep tabs on the Institute's movement—what little we can track. We saw when they took Shaun, and we saw when you were let out. It's not just me. The whole gang knows about you resurfacing."

"So, they do have Shaun," I mutter. Realizing what he'd said, I finally articulate, "Wait. Shaun? How do you know my son's name? And let out? What do you mean?"

"Like I said, we keep tabs and I need to be able to know stuff. Probably best we don't discuss the how's. And yes, let out. Did you seriously think the cryo pods just randomly malfunctioned and that yours was the only working one left? It was a planned thing—I'm sure of it."

I'm baffled. "Planned? Who could have planned it?"

"Who have we been talking about this whole time?"

The Institute. "Why wouldn't they just let me die? Was my life not already over at that point with what they did?"

"They might have needed a backup in case the baby went on strike or something."

I glare at him. "That's my son you're talking about. Not funny, Deacon."

"Sorry." He walks ahead and we come to a grate, indicating this is where we need to be. "Hey," he turns to me. "You don't have a reason to be scared of me. I know it seems crazy—me, suddenly here, and knowing so much about you already. But trust me. If I wanted to hurt you, don't you think I would have done it already? I mean, I have known about you—followed you even, I'll admit—for a long time now. You just interest me. It's not everyday someone from before the War pops up into our chunk of crappy land." He points to Robert. "Plus—he wouldn't dare let me near you to even cut a single hair on your head."

"Damn straight," Robert agrees, his anger still slightly present.

Deacon smiles, a curve beneath his ever-present sunglasses. "Having someone like that on your side—it's invaluable. Don't give it up."

"I couldn't if I tried." I swear I see Robert grin beside me.

Deacon faces the grate we've come to. "Well, this is it. From here on in, there's going to be hostile synths all over the effin' place. Gen 1s, Gen 2s—you know the drill. Shoot 'em like there's no tomorrow, Bethany."

"Um… that's not my name."

"Oh, I know." He grins. "I just know you don't like your actual full name." He opens the grate and walks in.

"How on earth do you know that?!"

After clearing the entire underground facility, we came to a giant vault-type safe. Deacon grabbed the odd looking prototype and was about to leave and head back to Old North Church, but I insisted he come with us to Sanctuary and maybe even show us where he was camping when he saw me leave 111 nearly five months ago. I could tell Robert wasn't too enthused about it, but he kept quiet, allowing this strange new man to travel with us to my old hometown.

On the way to Sanctuary Hills, Deacon and I swapped some old stories—he shared some from his caravan guarding past, and I shared a couple about Pre-War Boston and how owning a law firm was. Robert mainly stayed quiet, refusing to tell us about living in Little Lamplight when I prompted him. I found it funny how it looked like he was pouting for most of the trip.

When we're getting close to Concord, Deacon somehow manages to resemble a dog when he perks up at something I can't hear. After a second, he says, "Get down."

"What's up?" Robert asks.

"Listen," Deacon points ahead of us, to which Robert nods, as if he knows what he's talking about.

"Um. Someone want to enlighten me here?" I cut in.

"Some kind of scuffle in town," Robert clarifies. After a second, "Gunfire."

"I can't hear it," I say.

"You haven't had twenty-plus years out here," Deacon responds. "We have."

"True."

We continue toward the din carefully, not knowing what to really expect. As we walk around a house, we finally see what all the commotion is: Raiders attacking someone on the balcony of the Museum of Freedom. The man sees us and yells, "I've got a group of settlers inside! The Raiders are almost through the door! Help us! Please!" He goes back inside as we gun down the Raiders that had also spotted us.

The three of us go through the museum, clearing each level as we go. Finally, we make it to the man—a black man somewhere in his twenties—that had called for our help outside.

"Man, I don't know who you guys are, but I can't argue with your impeccable timing. I'm Preston Garvey of the Commonwealth Minutemen."

"Minutemen? I didn't think they'd still be together, all these years later," I comment.

"Sure, things got bad for a while—and I admit that we're still struggling—but there's still a few of us."

"The original group of Minutemen actually survived throughout all these centuries?" I can't believe what I'm hearing.

Deacon steps in. "I think my friend here is just really impressed that the name has stuck all this time. I agree: why not chose another name, instead of following after our forefathers?" He gives me this look, as if he's shielding me from telling the truth.

"It seemed fitting: protecting the people at a minute's notice. So, they chose this name." He looks at all three of us as if for the first time. "Boy… what a strange group. I'm gonna guess here. Merc?" He points to Robert. "Vault dweller?" He points to me. "And… I don't even know." He gestures to Deacon. "Who are you guys?"

Before either of us can open our mouths, Deacon again speaks. "We're just a group of friends. I'm a caravan guard, taking some time off while my boss gets a new brahmin. The old one got attacked the other night by some radscorpions. Wasn't fun, that's for sure." And as if he forgot our presence, he turns to us. "These are some friends of mine. We got to know each other through trading deals, and now they're like family." He moves closer to Preston. "By the way, they're like, together. So, she's taken. I saw that look in your eyes, freedom-fighter." He looks back to me, and I presume he winks, saying, "I got your back, girl." Both Preston and Robert chuckle a little bit at him. And I have to admit—I'm shocked to hear Robert actually laughing at him, rather than just glaring at him with jealously, as I've gotten used to since meeting Deacon. He continues, "She was a vault dweller and he was a merc. They're both retired from their respective positions, though." Preston gets a face as if he's wondering, How does one retire from being a vault dweller? But he doesn't ask. Instead, he changes the subject.

"So, we're on our way to Sanctuary Hills. Heard about it a while back and thought it'd be a good place to settle down. Would you mind joining us as we walk there?"

I laugh. "Yeah, it is a nice place to settle, I guess you could say. And yeah, sure. We were actually headed there ourselves. I used to live there back before the War—"

"—Between her family," Deacon cuts me off. "There was a pretty serious skirmish and she hasn't been back yet." Why does he not want me to talk about my past? Or any of us really?

"Oh, that's a shame. At least we have an 'insider.'" Preston chuckles.

"You sure do," Deacon replies with a chuckle of his own.

When we actually arrived in Sanctuary—Preston and company in tow, and having had made sure they were settled into one of the houses—I finally saw my own house. I didn't know I'd react to it the way I did. I didn't want to even look at it. I hadn't been back there for over two centuries—I didn't even wander by it when I left the vault. If Codsworth hadn't been by the small footbridge, I wouldn't even have known he was still around. He told me he'd stay behind and tidy up the house to the best of his ability while I went out in search of the "young master." He was absolutely delighted to see me again as we came in—and even more excited that I'd brought "houseguests!"

We ended up staying in the Rosa's house across the street. It was close enough to be comforting, but far enough to not make me anxious. Deacon seemed right at home, as if he spent more time in the area than he was willing to admit.

On the second night of our stay, he let me know he was heading back to HQ in the morning, so to not be alarmed when he wasn't around. I thanked him for all the lovely banter and interesting company. He shrugged it off as part of his job, but I'm positive I saw the slightest hint of red to his face below his shades.

I wake with a start—jolting nearly upright within seconds of consciousness. This wakes Robert, who is instantly worried. "What's wrong?"

"Just a dream," I both answer him and tell myself in my best attempt to calm myself down. "Just a dream."

He rubs small circles on my back comfortingly. "It gets better," he soothes. He must know what it was about—coming back "home" brought out some wretched memories in my sleeping state.

"Yeah… I know." I try my best to grin at him, but it ends up feeling more like a lopsided scowl. Shaking my head free from the dream, I go to stand.

"Where you headed?" he asks.

"I need to see something." I leave the room, leave his confused face behind.

Despite it practically being the middle of the night, I walk across the street. I can't help but to stop on the sidewalk in front of my house. Is this a mistake? I feel an arm wrap around my lower back. "I'm with you," he says. Taking a deep breath, I walk into the very structure of my old life.