21. Plus Fifty

MacCready POV

This Is War by 30 Seconds To Mars

Beth didn't sleep a wink last night. She was passed out for several hours, but still. She just laid there, her eyes unblinking, staring into the ceiling with the blankest look on her face. It was very unnerving.

According to her Pip-Boy—laying on my side of the bed for once—it's nearly eight in the morning. Not long after checking the time, I hear a Vertibird coming our way. "I'm gonna go check on that. Be right back." She doesn't respond.

When I get closer, I see it's the Brotherhood—like I was suspecting. I recognize Danse.

"Hello," he greets as he stomps his way closer to the house. "Came to check on Beth. How is she?"

"She's awake," I mutter, nearly inaudible. Clearing my throat, I repeat, "She's awake. Woke up some time last night."

"Oh, that's great. She had me going there for a while." He sighs a breath of relief.

"You were?" I ask sarcastically. "Imagine how it felt to be in my shoes the past, like four days."

"Yeah, Ingram told me what happened. I was wondering if there was any way I could help, but I knew there wasn't… so I left you alone." He shakes his head, unable to fathom the experience.

After a minute of awkward silence, I say, "Well, not to be rude, but is it okay if we just talk later? I really don't want to leave her alone and visitors probably aren't the best idea right now. She said she's going to give a rundown of what happened to Maxson later, if she's still up to it—I imagine we'll be bumping into you, so you'll get to see her then."

He looks down at me, his eyes sympathetic. Completely ignoring what I just said, he asks, "Did she tell you?"

I look to the ground and nod after a second. "Yeah… It's pretty fu—screwed up… I feel it's not really my place to talk about it, though. She'll probably catch you up when we see you later."

"Okay… I'll send someone with your boat. I realize it's still at the airport. Well, I was just making sure you guys were okay. I suppose I'll be seeing you later, then." I wave a second too late as he turns and heads back to the Vertibird.

As I walk back into the house, I grab some leftover vegetable stew from the other night. Taking it up to Beth, I see she's sat up in bed. When I walk in, she asks, "Who was that?"

"Danse. He wanted to check on you—make sure you're awake." She just nods. Even though his involvement was after she fell unconscious, she acts like it doesn't surprise her. Trying to hand her the bowl of stew, she shakes her head. "Beth, you need to eat something. When was the last time you ate?" I feel her cheek—feel what seems to be a slight fever. "Or drank for that matter?" She continues to look past me with a blank stare. Compared to last night however, she shows a bit more of emotion—a bit more anger. "Hey." I set the bowl down and look her right in the eyes despite her avoiding mine. After she reluctantly looks at me, I say, "You need to stay healthy. If not for you, do it for me at least?" She just continues to stare at me.

I continue. "When the teleporter burned up the other day, I thought I'd lost you. But Proctor Ingram came and checked on me, brought me food and water, told me maybe some sleep would help. I didn't feel like doing anything. But she convinced me, that if you were coming back—and she felt strongly that you would—that I'd need to be healthy to help you, if you needed it.

"It's no different here. You need to be healthy for me now. Take care of yourself, for me. Don't make me think I've lost you all over again."

After a moment, the look of thought crossing her expression, she points to the bowl I set down, "Get that for me?" Handing it to her, I stand and kiss the top of her head.

"Thank you." I leave to get some water for her, feeling better that she's working with me now.

"Ah, there it is," I say, seeing our boat rolling up to the island the next day. As I walk out to it, I see a young lady step off in Brotherhood fatigues.

"Hi, I'm Scribe Haylen. I'm part of Danse's recon team. He told me that you guys would be wanting your boat back, so here it is." She gestures to the watercraft.

"Good. Thanks," I tell her. "Riding back with us, or is someone picking you up?"

"Ride back with you?"

"Beth is meeting with the Elder today about… what happened. I'm sure you heard."

Realization hits. "Oh, yes. Of course… Um, sure I can go back to the Prydwen with you."

"Alright. We'll be leaving in about half an hour. You can wait in the living room if you want."

As we walk back to the house, Beth is up and on the move, getting ready. "Boat's here, you said?" she asks me.

"Yeah. She brought it back," I motion to Haylen.

"Oh." Beth is practically stumbling around trying to get one of her boots on while walking. She mutters under her breath, "Frickin' thing…" Seeing the woman, "I remember you. You're from, uh, Danse's team, right?"

The scribe grins hugely. "Yes, I am. I'm happy you remember me—most people don't. I'm just one of those people in the background."

"Oh, I getcha. I completely understand—"

I cut her off, "Um, no? Like, you haven't been in the background at all, Vault Dweller. Miss Radio Famous, Brotherhood Knight, Teleporter User—"

"Okay, okay." She puts her hand over my mouth after finally getting her boot on. "We get it," she and the scribe laugh. "I meant from before the War, genius." She rolls her eyes at me to which I just shrug.

Driving the boat back to the airport proves me right even more. Haylen is doting over everything Beth says—meaning she is not just in the background. Nobody puts Beth in a corner, she jokes, knowing darn well I don't understand her references.

Scribe Haylen goes off somewhere as we board the Vertibird, taking us up to the airship. Even though I could've sworn Danse said we could find him in the mess hall, he's actually patrolling the flight deck. Seeing us, his face lights up. "Beth!"

"Hey, Danse," she greets with an easy smile. "How're things?"

"They were boring until a few days ago." He gives her an accusatory look, making her smile sheepishly. "I'm just glad to see you up and walking, smiling."

"Thanks," she says in a small voice. Speaking up, "Do you think Elder Maxson will let you in the room when I debrief him? That way I don't have to repeat it. I hate having to repeat myself."

"I don't see why not, if you want me there."

"Then, let's go. I can tell you're dying to hear about it."

Seeing Beth this morning in a good mood made me hopeful that she was back to normal. With everything that happened, everything she learned, I wasn't expecting such a fast recovery. But when she starts reporting to the Elder, she seems to slump back into her depression somewhat.

"Let me get this straight, Knight: your son is the director of the Institute?" Maxson seems as bewildered as I was when she told me.

"Yes, sir," she replies, her tone grave. "I spent two days and nights down there—no sleep, nothing to eat and little to drink. Not from their doing," she clarifies, "but my own—it felt like an out of body experience, and I completely forgot. Anyway, I believe I spent enough time with the people, the synths, my… son…" She's always reluctant to say it. "…to know that they are indeed as evil as suspected—an evil that cannot be tolerated. Due to this, I have reached the conclusion that they must be eradicated from this planet. They are as everyone says: the scourge of the Commonwealth. You want a war with them? You have me onboard, sir."

Maxson strokes his beard, a gleam in his eye. "Excellent. Are you able to go back?"

"Yes, at any time. They outfitted me with a chip implant on my Pip-Boy, allowing me to return as I see fit. They still believe I'm siding with them due to my… familial connection. And oh, I almost forgot. Um, I did find Dr. Li. She works in Advanced Systems—a department prone to better the facility and their technology. I was not able to convince her to return to the Brotherhood yet. She sounded extremely unsure—and from her murmurings, she does not sound happy working for them."

"Even better news," the leader says. "Do you have plans on going back soon?"

"To keep up appearances, so to say… yes, I am planning on going back within the week. I can try again to persuade her then."

"Please do," he urges. "We could use her help again." He turns to inspect the ground where a rather loud explosion took place. Turning back, "She worked on a project the Brotherhood had running ten years ago. We are striving to restore the project for our gain against the Institute. We could use her services again, since she worked on it in the past and has experience with it."

"I see," Beth says, seeming a little disinterested. "I don't know if she was like this when she worked with the Brotherhood before… but she's a very egotistical woman, condescending and vain. She is—I can tell—very smart, but will her character be a hindrance to us, sir?"

"She was as such all those years ago. Nothing we cannot handle—her brains are what we need, not her personality."

"Very well. Is there anything else you need from me today, Elder?"

"No. Thank you, Knight, for doing us this service. It must be to some degree difficult for you to go against your own flesh, but it is of your own choosing. It would be understandable if you chose to discontinue your assistance in the future. However, you have to understand also that if you do this, we will not stop our mission. They will be exterminated with or without you, soldier."

"You will not be disappointed from me, sir. I am here 'til the end—until I see them brought to their knees. I won't back out."

He seems impressed. "Alright. Dismissed."

As Beth and I turn to leave, I see Danse standing near the ladder. I'd completely forgotten he joined us for the report. His face showed no other emotion than utter shock. As we walk past him, he snaps out of it a bit and follows us back to the flight deck.

Once near the Vertibirds, he turns to Beth. "That was…" He's at a loss for words.

"Right?" She merely nods. "I'm the one who experienced it, and I still don't even know myself."

"Are you sure this is what you want?" He looks down at her with his thick knitted brows.

"Will you people stop asking me?" she feigns agitation with a small chuckle. Seriously, "Once I know what I want, I know what I want. This is something I need, Danse. As I told Robert last night: my son is only my son through blood—what he was raised into…" She shakes her head. "He's a monster—not human. I refuse to call him family."

"You can find support from me, Beth. If you ever need anything, don't hesitate. You know where to find me." He grins sympathetically and goes back inside the ship.

After he's gone, Beth gets a look in her eyes. Strolling up to the nearest Vertibird, she asks the pilot, "Can we get a lift to Goodneighbor? I have some errands to run."

"Of course, Knight. Hop on," the lancer says.

Beth motions for me to get on. Sighing heavily, I climb on and grab the edges of the seat for dear life. This makes Beth chuckle. Why does she think it's funny that I'm scared of these things?

After a spell, the Vertibird lands a few blocks from Goodneighbor. Beth thanks the lancer and heads toward the town, only to do a one-eighty when it's out of sight. "Um?" I point toward the town of outcasts with a quizzical look.

"Nope." She pulls a holotape from her pocket. "Deacon." I finally catch on and nod. "Can't tell a Brotherhood member that I'm actually meeting with a Railroad member. That'd just be insane." She continues her path. I fall into step beside her as we walk toward Old North Church.

"Someone pinch me!" Deacon yells as he sees us enter the Railroad HQ. "I must be dreaming right now!" He runs up to us, giving me a quick handshake then envelopes Beth in a bear hug. "Look at you. You made it!"

"Barely," she admits with a huff. "Wasn't too sure there for a while." She pulls the holotape she showed me out of her pocket. Handing it to him, "There's all of their dirty laundry. Have fun making sense of it."

"Oh, that's not my job," Deacon replies. "That would be Tinker Tom's. Hey, Tom!" he yells loudly as he walks across the small room.

"D, you know there ain't no reason to yell down here. I can hear you just fine if you whispered from the tunnel." He grabs the tape out of his hand with agitated force. "What's this?"

Deacon takes it back in the same rough styled manner. "If you'd have waited another two seconds, you'd know." Pointing to the holotape, "This here's a tape with all we need—probably. I hope." He looks to Beth.

"Hey, I did my best," she says with a shrug.

"Now if you're done acting like a wild animal, you can look at it." Deacon hands the tape back to Tom.

Giving him a look of exaggerated annoyance, Tom plugs the tape into his terminal—an old, rounded machine, looking more jerry-rigged than anything.

"This is gonna take a while to decrypt," he says as he scans the rows of letters. "Get back with me in an hour."

"An hour?" Deacon asks. "I thought you were supposed to be the fastest hacker in the Commonwealth, T-bones."

"I am, Deacs. This crap takes time! Unless you think you can do it faster, how about you get outta my face and come back later."

"Ouch." Deacon puts his hand on his chest. "Harsh, Tom. Harsh."

"Oh, shut up. Go busy yourself by digging a hole or something."

Shaking his head, Deacon suggests we follow him back to the escape tunnel where we'd met him before. "He's no fun when he's working." Seeing Beth's cocked eyebrow, he adds, "And no. He's usually not like that. High stress with all this Institute stuff floating around."

Once we're back in the escape tunnel—apparently a normal place for Deacon to chill—he hands us both a Nuka-Cola each from a cooler he seemed to have stashed somewhere. Beth waits until we've all been relaxing for a few minutes before she speaks up.

"I found my son," she says suddenly.

Deacon looks up at her, his eyebrows shooting straight up near his wig's hairline. He seems to be utterly speechless. With a lack of response, she continues.

"He, uh… Well, he's a lot older than I thought." She spins her soda bottle in her hands. She glances up at Deacon, waiting for any kind of reply from him. Still nothing. "He's their leader—the director of the Institute. He has been for a long time."

Finally, he stands, nearly shouting, "Woah, woah, woah! Wait just a minute!" He paces a few feet away and looks back at her. "He's their what?!"

"You heard me," she replies evenly.

"That's…" He seems to be yet again at a loss for words. Calming down a bit, he comes back over and sits down again. "That's messed up."

"Yeah," she takes another drink from her Nuka-Cola. "Still doesn't change anything, though."

"You want something stronger? I think I can spare some bourbon for this right now." As Beth nods, Deacon goes back to his cooler, retrieving a bottle of liquor and three shot glasses. Pouring each of the glasses half full, he hands them to us while shaking his head.

"You wanna know the worst part?" Beth asks after taking her first drink of the alcohol. "He used me. As an experiment. His own mother." She takes another drink, bigger than the first. "He wanted to test a new prototype of the Gen 3 synths. So, he makes it—" She takes a deep breath.

"At first, I thought I found my son. There was this glass encasement—a room—with a little boy in it. About ten years old. It was Shaun, I was positive. I told him I was going to find him a way out. Of course, he didn't recognize me—he's never even seen me. Next thing I know, this old man comes into the room, says a recall code that shuts the boy—my son—down, like a machine.

"He tells me that the boy was just a synth—a prototype they were testing with emotional stimuli. Then… he has the balls to tell me that he is my son. That he is Shaun. A sixty-year-old man, my son… How old I thought he was… plus fifty years.

"He made me believe that the synth was Shaun. And I thought it was him. Do you know how much that messed with me, how much that screwed me up? It still is. How is that moral, humane, to do that to your own mother that's been grieving?" She chugs the last half of her bourbon and winces once it's down.

I feel how Deacon looks: shocked and terrified. She never told me any of this. Why did she leave this out until now?

I see a couple tears fall silently down her cheeks. "Just…" She's on the edge of crying. "The whole place—they're evil. All of them." She sniffles, trying to keep it together. "They need to burn… For what they've done—for what they do…"

"Not all of them are evil," Deacon says in a small voice. I've never heard him sound so vulnerable without being inebriated. "The synths—they can't help it—"

"Or can they?" Beth interrupts. She looks him dead in the eyes, past the ever present shades. "From what I see, they're the ones doing all the dirty work. If they haven't made it out yet, why? Is it because they haven't had the chance, or is it because they're in cahoots? They're happy there?"

"You have to make the call yourself," Deacon responds, a bit of ire in his voice. "From what I know, they can't help their situation—they're not happy there. They're just too scared to make a move. Do you know what happens to synths that get caught?

"I know what I'm saying probably won't persuade you, or even dissuade you—from the sounds of things. But you have to save as many as you can. I completely agree with the whole 'down with the Institute' thing, but save the innocents, the synths. They didn't ask for this."

"…I'll think about it…"

"That's all I ask." He slams the rest of his drink and stands. "I have some… stuff. I'll catch you two later."

Beth's eyes follow Deacon as he makes his way out of the tunnel. Once he's gone, "I hope he doesn't get in the way. War with the Institute is bad enough—I don't want one with the Railroad also. …Not Deacon, too…"

As we're walking back to the airport to get the boat and head home, I can't help but notice Beth acting strange. She'd made a complete one-eighty from this morning—she went from happy, at least to me, to a major downer. Everything that's come out of her mouth is either small talk, or just negative in general. It's not until we're home that I work up the courage to ask her.

"Beth?"

"Hm?" She looks up from reading the last day's paper—the newspaper from October 23, 2077. No telling how many times she's both scanned over and deeply read those articles. As she looks at me, her eyes are all but empty, her normally smiling lips are drooped downward.

"What can I do?"

Her brows sag as she shakes her head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I need to do something. I can't just sit here and watch you… be like this. So tell me what I can do to change it." I sit forward in my seat, toward her. She just sighs and leans her head against the back of her chair, shaking her head again—this time in defeat. "I hate this." I stand, even though I don't plan on doing anything, sitting isn't helping my anxiety at all.

"There's nothing we can do," she tells me, her tone solemn. "It just is the way it is. There's nothing we can do—nothing I can do—to change what happened in the past. The only thing that can help, is to accept it. It's just taking me a while. And I know it's not fun, for me to feel like this, or for you to see me like this. But it just needs to happen, and it unfortunately takes time—and too much of it.

"Maybe, you can get away. Go somewhere—do something. That way you won't have to be here—"

"I'm not going anywhere," I say stubbornly, gaining a hard gaze. Thinking for a minute, I continue, "Sure. There's plenty I could do. I mean, I could go to Sanctuary and check in on them. I could go back to Goodneighbor, take a vacation of sorts—maybe get baked with Hancock. I could even go visit Duncan—maybe bring him back here with us finally. I know we discussed both of us going, but it's just a thought." I sit back down.

"Regardless, I know that my place is here. I know firsthand that when you're going through some hard times, the best thing is to have somebody there with you. Even if you don't talk about the thing and just sit in silence. But, having someone around that you could talk with, that understands, that is just there… it helps. So, no—I'm not going anywhere. I'll just deal with it. Just because you're the one going through this, doesn't mean that you're alone in it. I feel your pain. So my leaving wouldn't take me out of the suffering of it all—it'd just make it harder for both of us."

She places her two-century-old paper back on the radio where she likes to keep it and just stares at the floorboards. I can see the shift in her facial features, however small and unnoticeable to most. Her mouth softens from a hard scowl to one of mourning, her eyes lose their blankness and gain an amalgamation of negative emotions—and I swear I see tears lining the rims of them. "It's okay to let it out," I whisper.

Not a second after saying this, she does exactly that. Her face crumples and distorts in agony, her tears are let loose and now run amuck down her face. I silently open my arms, inviting her to let me grieve with her. She comes over, sits on my lap and lays her head on my shoulder, letting herself go. I put my hand on the other side of her head, embracing her.

She spends the next stretch of time allowing herself to act on her pain, until she eventually is so exhausted, she falls asleep right here on my shoulder. I cradle her in my arms and take her upstairs to bed. Laying down next to her, she feels my presence and scoots over to me in her sleep, wrapping her arm around me and sighing contently. I'm just happy to see her calm, even if it is while she sleeps. Just my being here seems to help her sleep better right now. And she wanted me to leave…