The Institute
July the 8th, 2289
13:01

"I'm surprised you all called a second weekly Directorate meeting. I assume something concerning has happened above ground?"

"Yes, to put it all too lightly. As the Institute's Director and his closest advisor, would either of you care to explain this?"

Confused, Shaun Norwich and his father, Nathaniel Norwich, looked over Dr. Madison Li, Dr. Allison Filmore, Dr. Clayton Holdren, Dr. Alan Binet, and Dr. Alana Secord, all of whom seemed, just as confusingly to the two men, entirely in agreement. It was seeing the unprecedented anger Dr. Alan Binet could not hide, however, that unsettled Nathaniel the most; it was rare for Alan to be anything other than content and calm if not cheerful and serene. From the tense way he kept his arms crossed to the way he looked disdainfully at the large file he and his colleagues had set down before them, a feeling of unease and dread pawed at Nathaniel when he reached for and opened the file. Flipping through a few pages, he paused upon seeing a few of the headers and, more pertinently, the notes on them written in red ink. He took out one of the files, bringing it a bit closer to his face so he could read the somewhat messy handwriting clearly. He let out a defeated sigh when he did. 23. October. 2287 – Vault 111 – Information: Nora Jacqueline Norwich. Setting it down and pushing the rest of the file towards his son, Nathaniel nervously clasped his hands together, holding them steady just under his chin, elbows holding them up on the table. He looked between his son and the Directorate, feeling all the more uneasy when Shaun, pulling out a few files, eventually set them down, a wary look to his face and his movements hesitant. The two men sharing a long, knowing look, finally turned back to the Directorate, all of whom still were varyingly, in the cases of Dr. Madison Li and Dr. Alan Binet, angry, in the cases of Dr. Allison Filmore and Dr. Clayton Holdren, trepidatious, and, in the case of Dr. Alana Secord, completely and utterly frustrated and annoyed.

"I understand you all must be far from pleased with the circumstances, but this is much more complicated than I suspect you think," Shaun finally said, if unusually hesitant. "The first being, of course, to do with Dr. Virgil."

"And Evelyn," Alan said, his voice shaking. "For years, you have let this be portrayed as nothing but an accident when the truth is Dr. Virgil's attempt to leave the Institute and sabotage a programme very few thought necessary to continue led to his death and, more saliently, the death of my wife!"

"All the while doing…" Clayton said, trailing off before shaking his head. "For the last two years – nearly, two years – you've been drawing your…"

"What was the point of this?" Madison uncompromisingly stared down the Director. "Manipulating us and our records to lead your mother to the Institute? Or, if you'd prefer to start there, covering up what really happened to Dr. Virgil and Dr. Binet? Because both of those need more than a little bit of an explanation."

Shaun sighed. "If you all would prefer we begin with what happened with Dr. Virgil, then we can. I suppose it does, chronologically, make the most sense."

"Yes," Alan said bitterly. "It does."

"Then I suppose you should all know that Dr. Virgil was successful in his departure from the Institute. We have attempted to track him down but were unable to do so," Nate said calmly. "We had X6-88 as the point of contact for Kellogg, whom we chose to attempt to find him. All we know about Dr. Virgil since his departure from the Institute is he more than likely went into and disappeared in the so-called 'Glowing Sea,' or, where it is arguably most treacherous, what used to be Providence, Rhode Island."

"Virgil is still alive?" Madison raised an eyebrow. "So," She said, her voice darkening. "He left the Institute and, in the process, killed Evelyn Binet and destroyed the programme he was frustrated by and wanted stopped? Something Allie, Clayton, and I had been pushing for a few years at that point?"

"Yes," Shaun confirmed, though he tried to avoid her gaze and Alan's. "The reason we kept it a secret was because we were well aware of the pain it would cause, and because we had, shortly before its destruction, accepted Dr. Holdren's proposal for renovating and repurposing those laboratories."

"But then why has barely any of that been done?" Clayton pressed, annoyance catching his voice. "It should have taken at most a year to fully scrub the labs and begin to renovate them, and they are still only about halfway there."

"Our priorities shifted," Shaun smoothly replied. "Phase Three was making tremendous progress, and the intelligence on the Brotherhood's movements began to show signs of turning towards the Commonwealth about halfway through that process."

"And," Alana irritably noted. "You and your father decided to lure your mother to the Institute. I assume that was the real reason Kellogg was put in the field, and I should think, now, it is also safe to assume she was responsible for killing him, and not that failed prototype synth."

"To some extent, yes, that was why we put Kellogg in the field almost entirely," Nate confessed. "There were of course other reasons, including him being more of a danger in the Institute than he was above ground, but we did intend for her to find him as something of a lure."

"Alright, then," Allie said, looking between the two men. "I assume the 'disaster' at Greentech was another ploy to guide her to the Institute?"

"Yes," Shaun said, still doing his best to avoid the gazes of Madison and Alan. "As you well know, Dr. Filmore, it is possible to construct a smaller, and admittedly shakier, version of the Molecular Relay, however, for that –"

"One would need a Courser's chip," Allie finished, pausing a moment. "We had considered constructing permanent, smaller connexion points for the Relay at one point, from what I've seen and read on it, but doing so was decided against because it would be difficult to do so inconspicuously, and the primary reason we had considered doing so was because it would make it easier to get Dr. Zimmer to and from the Institute before his work in the former Capital became long term. We did manage to construct and use a few inconspicuously in testing before we changed our approach, however…"

"It was a short lived practise, and only, from what I've read, used in just about the middle of nowhere in what used to be Maryland well over a decade ago. How in the hell is she even going to be able to construct that?" Madison said, what little patience she had left dissipating. "Even if she were to have the plans, I sincerely doubt she could do it, certainly considering I seriously doubt she has a strong background in science and, specifically for this case, engineering."

"For a start, she does have the plans," Nate said, though he grimaced when she, Allie, Clayton, Alan, and Alana all glared at him. "We leaked them to her through the Minutemen, with whom she is quite close. For another, while, admittedly, yes, she doesn't have the necessary background in science and engineering, she does know some who do. One of them is in the Minutemen and – I believe you met him, Dr. Li – is from what we have been able to gather, one of the brightest minds on the surface, a man by the name of Sturges Presley. It may not be a smooth or perfect process, but I think it has become abundantly clear we can trust the Minutemen, even if they don't know where or how we are involved in their operations. If we need to give them a little bit more of a push, then we safely can."

"Wait, you mean…" Clayton said, looking suddenly rather anxious. "Is…so is our supporting the Minutemen a means to an end rather than anything else?"

"Initially, once we ascertained her close relationship with them, yes," Nate said, nervously looking between them and his son, who was much calmer than him or so he felt. "But, since they were successful in rescuing Dr. Li and Dr. Spencer, we believe it is in our best interests, as you have all agreed, to work with them, how ever covertly. If we are to put all cards on the table, then I suppose it is no longer a secret that quite a few of our directives have been to intentionally guide her to the Institute, but they serve a dual purpose with those they have been…officially for."

"And, once we know where and when she will be attempting to use the connexion point, we will be able to ensure she is taken by the Relay to the Institute," Shaun added, falling silent a moment. "As I am sure you all know, this is now a matter of complete, classified information, of which the five of you are, apart from myself and, admittedly, my father, the only ones permitted to have knowledge of."

"That won't be a problem," Allie said, unusually curt. "But that still does not explain why we were told none of this when, as the Directorate, we ought to have been."

"To the matter of Dr. Virgil, that was necessary to not distract from Phase Three, and," He glanced between Madison and Alan. "To prevent undue suffering. With Phase Three now both complete and massively successful, we were going to have the FEV laboratory completely scrubbed by the end of August, something I believe I noted in an email before last week's Directorate meeting."

"You did," Madison said bitterly. "But I think I speak for all of us when I say the lies about it – something we had to piece together ourselves – made all of this much worse."

"It has," Alan said, his voice quietly defiant. "And I, for one, will not forget it."

"I doubt any of us will," Allie agreed, a cold edge to her voice when she looked between the Director and his father. "We have more than a few questions for you we'd like answers for in due time, however, at the moment, what we want is simple: no further deliberate lacking of transparency, and access to the original files that were manipulated, though I'm sure there are plenty of other things we'll require going forward."

Shaun hesitated but, closing the file, finally nodded.

"Understood, Dr. Filmore. All things considered, I suppose it is rather unnecessary to keep any of this hidden from yourself, Dr. Li, Dr. Holdren, Dr. Binet, and Dr. Secord as things stand now regardless."

Far Harbour
July the 14th, 2289
15:07

Far from cold on the fog covered Island with summer fully alive, the cold air circulating throughout the town's bar was a relief, if only because it was not weighed down in the water and heat outside.

A bit tired from walking back to the town from Acadia, Eleanor Perkins had pushed herself as far down the side of the booth she was sat in, giving the General of the Minutemen and his right hand man an awkward smile when Preston pushed a bottle of ibuprofen towards her. Of all the things to have survived the War enough to still be produced, simple painkillers were, she was certain, the best. Soon as they were down, she carefully took off one of her shoes under the table, lightly massaging her foot and hoping, sooner rather than later, the aching would stop. She laughed when the daughter of the General's right hand man teasingly elbowed her upon a waiter handing them menus, giving Nick, sat on the other side of the teenager, a sweet but amused look when he looked over the menu as if he could eat; one of the few things about being a synth and, in particular, a prototype he wished were different. His mind a bit fuzzy, he handed his secretary the menu and tried to drown out the noise of the bar and restaurant around them, and, closer still, the chattering between his companions. Acadia and Dima. Far Harbour and Avery. The Children Of Atom and their submarine. Kasumi. The courier he had sent to deliver an update to his old friend, Kasumi's father, who would more than likely arrive at their home soon enough and, this time, with a short letter written and signed by Kasumi.

Knowing she still had no intention of going home until after she felt satisfied she knew everything she could about Acadia and Dima made the fact she was willing to write to her parents feel as though it were a tiny and very much temporary solution.

"I think the best thing to do, at least for now, is to try and see if the Children will let us into their compound without asking too many questions," Ellie said, breaking the silence after everyone had put in their orders. "But we'll have to use a lot of anti-radiation measures, I'm sure. My hope is it'll be relatively smooth and we'll be able to find and access Dima's stored memories relatively quickly once we're in."

"We definitely won't be able to get any further in getting Kasumi home until we have those," Preston agreed. "Her writing home is a good sign, though."

"She doesn't seem happy there," Ada added, shaking her head. "I think she's scared of Dima but likes how she's been able to learn a lot while in Acadia. Being around other people, even if they're strange, sounds a lot better than being mostly alone at home, too."

"Kenji and Rei will probably be more willing to let her see people and make friends after all this, unfortunate as it is," Nick paused. "I can't say I blame her in not feeling entirely comfortable around Dima. I sure as hell don't, and I'm relieved she's not blindly trusting of him."

"It seems clear she knew what she was doing when she left," Ellie said, worriedly glancing at him. "Do you think she lied about thinking she's a synth as a reason to come explore?"

"If she did, I'll be surprised," Nick said. "She's both young enough and isolated enough to be persuaded into believing something if it also gave her meaning. A lot of folks will do crazy things to give themselves a purpose. The Brotherhood and the Institute come to mind."

"She…she did tell me," Ada hesitated, looking a little embarrassed when her father, the General, the detective, and the detective's secretary turned to her. "She did say she had been hoping to come into contact with anyone who understood her. When I asked her if she would have been alright with it if she had met the Institute out here, she did say yes."

"If she really thinks she's a synth, that probably wouldn't be the case," Preston noted. "Did she say anything about the Brotherhood?"

"She said she was curious about them, but not much more than that," Ada replied. "Growing up in the Commonwealth, she probably only ever heard about the Institute until recently, so I get why she would have been drawn to them and not the Brotherhood. The Institute are really fascinating, everything I hear about them is super interesting, but I don't think it would have been much better than this – at least for her family – if she'd ended up with the Institute and not with whatever the hell goes on at Acadia."

"Agreed and, all things considered, I think we're lucky she hasn't gone off to try and find the Children herself to try and access Dima's memories," Derek said, reaching across the table to reassuringly pat his youngest daughter's hands. "Ellie is right about what we need to do, but I feel a little better about going there since, from what people around town here have heard, their leader was, at one point, a student of Confessor Cromwell."

Preston turned to him in surprise. "He was one of the Children you protected from the Brotherhood just before they forced you out, wasn't he?"

"He was, and, while as far as I know he has since died, my hope is the Children will take my having known Cromwell well enough to be able to quote some of his…stranger beliefs as a sign of good faith; really, proof we aren't going there to harm them," Derek said, pushing up his glasses. "I also have an old statue Cromwell gave me of what some of the Children call the 'body of Atom' which is, in their theology, in the form of a woman who can shift in between our world and 'the invisible one belonging to Atom.' Strange as it is, I think that should be enough to prove we aren't there to hurt them."

Nick chuckled. "As long as they're not as completely out of their minds as that one fellow a few years back, I think they'll be alright. But, in all seriousness," He said, reaching into his pocket and removing a small book. "Isolde – who leads the sect of the Children who sheltered me and Nora while we were looking for Virgil – gave me this copy of some of their scriptures a few years back, which should assuage any fears they might have about us, too."

Ellie let out a sigh of relief. "Good. If all we have to worry about is getting to, around, and from their compound safely, that's a good thing for all of us."

"We'll still have to figure out what to do when we find Dima's memory storage banks," Ada reminded her. "Kasumi doesn't even know what exactly is on the programme Dima and his watchdog Faraday made, other than it's supposedly meant to allow remote retrieval of his memories."

"Could be some form of heavy code to read and translate what's on his stored memories," Nick mused. "If he was aggressive in how he stored and locked away his memories, then it's possible the programme could have more to it than that, but, in the very worst case, we can always hook me up to the machines and see what gets spit out."

"Nick!" Ellie gasped. "After what Amari told you what happened when she removed Kellogg's cybernetics from you, you shouldn't –"

"She said I sounded like the old merc for no more than a few seconds," Nick replied with an almost dismissive wave of his ungloved hand. "And, unlike Kellogg, who was human, Dima and I are both synths and, for better or worse, synths developed around the same time as each other. If anything he's downloaded information and memories onto isn't compatible with me, I'll be shocked."

"In practical terms, yes," She said pointedly. "But don't go rigging yourself to questionable machines without being sure of what they do, first."

"Yeah," Ada said, snickering. "Otherwise you are going to start looking like Dima."

"Addison –" Derek started.

"She's not wrong," Nick lightly swatted the teenager's arm. "Good one, kid. Decent enough kick in the pants for me. I'd like to be able to still dress the way I do. 'Clothes make the man,' and all that. I'm a detective, after all, not a cult leader."

"Cult leader sounds closer a description of Dima than I'm comfortable with," Preston frowned. "But, if what Kasumi thinks is going on is, that might not be off the mark."

"The Children are a cult and dangerous in their own right, but I agree," Derek sighed. "With any luck, they won't cause us any trouble and we won't in return, and, of course, regardless of what happens with Acadia, what is in these stored memories will satisfy Kasumi enough to go home. The girl isn't safe there."

"She isn't and, messy as the Commonwealth can be, it's a known quantity to not only Kenji and Rei but to her," Nick grimly agreed. "I hope we're not in over our heads with this, because, regardless of whatever skeletons Dima's got rattling around in his closets, getting this over with and getting it done safely could take a while, and I hope to God she can stay patient because wandering alone again and in her state of mind? It could be fatal."

Sanctuary Hills
July the 20th, 2289
23:14

For the first time in nearly two years, or, so it felt, Nora Jacqueline Norwich was laying in her own bed, staring up at the ceiling fan above spinning on, and on, and on.

Sanctuary Hills. What not changed since the day she left hurt less than it had before; fewer and weaker trees, more than a few large patches of grass struggling to regrow, street lamps broken and burnt out, and the cracked road with cars long since abandoned were still there. Some of the cars were gone, their parts repurposed in the town's reconstruction, and the foot bridge replacing the one the road used to turn onto the cul-de-sac she, her husband, and son had called home was fully repaired and maintained. The houses, too, of the little cul-de-sac had been rebuilt, and rebuilt so similarly to how they had looked before the War. They held people, families, even a few stray travellers; and the one the Minutemen had first spoken with her in was bustling from the workbenches that had once been in its garage. It was her home which had left her caught between relief, disbelief, and melancholia. Ever diligent and, she was sure, one of the leading forces of the town's reconstruction the past two years, Codsworth had been more than excited to open the door into her home for her again, Cait stepping in a few minutes later, much more hesitant. Finding it was mostly restored, a generator out back powering the home the same as all the others on the little cul-de-sac, had been jarring.

At the same time, it felt to be exactly as it should be, and was in and of itself a welcome distraction from the arguing and consternation of the work on deciphering and constructing the less and less nebulous mechanism into the Institute. To her son.

When Codsworth had shown her through the home again, seeing the kitchen was once more functional and with enough supplies to get through the coming week had been the first relief. Finding the lights, heating, and cooling all worked was the second. The third had been the restored indoor plumbing; the same as in Diamond City but at home. Her home. The water systems being functional and with operable, tested and working purifiers was itself something of a welcome surprise, and being able to take a long shower in her own bathroom again had left her feeling better than she had in a while. The two spare bedrooms, the laundry room, the other bathroom, and living room were just about the same as they had been before, but it was Shaun's room she had broken down in. A reminder he was no longer a baby. A reminder she had missed his first steps, his first words, and had been unable to nurse or soothe him in the full first year of his life. Codsworth and, from what she had heard him saying, Preston had done a wonderful job getting his room together for him to come home to; comic books in a bookshelf, a comfortable bed, and their last family photograph on the dresser. She had closed the door when she noticed his baby blankets neatly folded at the end of the bed, barely hearing Cait laughing in the kitchen with Codsworth before the door swung shut.

Holding the blanket she had first wrapped him in, those first few nights in hospital after his birth, did away with what anger she had for everything and everyone she had to put up with to find him and, curling into herself against the bedframe on the floor, she clutched onto her son's first blanket.

She reached for the others soon after, tucking her legs up to her chest, the blankets pinned between them and her chest, sobs a forgone conclusion before she even first heard herself crying.

The ability to care for her baby had been ripped away from her, and, instead, her baby boy was twelve, all the while she was not with him.

A product of Codsworth's desire to bring everything back together, though the brand of laundry detergent she had always used no longer existed, he had managed to replicate it well enough; it was enough for her baby's blankets to smell the same as they had before the War, even covered in tears. It was seeing the sun had begun to set that dragged her out of herself, and, unable to cry anymore, she had slowly pushed herself up, folded her son's blankets back up, and left his room, managing a smile when she had stepped into the kitchen to see Cait and Codsworth happily chatting while he taught her how to filter, make, and flavour coffee. It had felt better still when they had sat down for dinner, Codsworth excitedly bringing out, first, cold, lightly sparkling water, some lightly buttered pasta and, finally, two small slices of cheesecake he had managed to make with a bit of help from Sturges. A bit of paranoia gripping her when she realised the house was not locked up, the moment it was she found herself paused by the door, picking up and pocketing the key Codsworth had left on the bookshelf off the entry way.

Looking up to see her undergraduate degree's diploma, her master's diploma, and her bar certificate had left her startled, wrapping her arms around herself when she saw the fifty star flag folded up neatly on display beside Nate's military portrait. Atop it resting his honours from service in Alaska, she had begun to feel sick when she saw the other photographs on display. Her graduation photographs. Her first sonogram of Shaun, and her first photograph holding him. Her best friends from graduate school despite their being in a myriad of different programmes and ages. Herself in law at twenty two. Kate in organic chemistry at twenty four, thrilled to have received a high paying job just after earning her doctorate; a job she had started shortly before the War developing new flavours for the Nuka Cola Corporation. Katie Rose in nuclear engineering at twenty seven, also having just earnt her doctorate. Jack in chemical engineering at twenty two, having just begun his master's programme. Her and her parents at her wedding, and her baby shower. Shaun's first time meeting his grandparents. It was all there and more. Shaken, she had, almost in a trance, walked back to the room she had called hers and shared, it felt so recently, with Nate.

But he was gone.

Almost everyone they had ever known and loved were gone.

Dead family. Dead friends.

The only reprieve, and a bittersweet one at that, was seeing outside her window how things had changed but were coming back together, almost completely so.

It was knowing she would feel sick if what she saw through the window were to look the same as they had the last night she had slept, before, in her room that left her crying again, curling up under the soft blankets she knew had replaced the ones from before. Through her shaking, she nearly screamed when she heard the door to the room creak open, only to fall quiet before crying again when she saw it was only Cait. Nearly as hesitant as she had been to enter the home in the first place, the former cage fighter simply lingered in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe and letting the former lawyer cry, her body feeling unusually heavy and, thinking better of it, she set down a bottle of buffout on top of the dresser just past the door. Nora's sobs beginning to catch in her chest again and her eyes growing dry, she closed her eyes, everything starting to feel dizzying. Cait slowly made her way towards her, only sitting down on the very edge of the bed when Nora briefly looked up and did not protest. A few minutes of hesitation later, and the former cage fighter reached over to gently untangle the lawyer's messy, long dark hair.

"I haven't cut it since I…since I first left the Vault," Nora said quietly, blinking back what few tears still tried to get past her drying eyes. "Maybe I should; mom had been a hairdresser for nearly thirty years and was always militant about me and my…brothers and sister getting our split ends trimmed but I…I haven't thought much of it, so long as it's clean and not in my face."

"You've had a lot more to think about," Cait replied, briefly surprised by the softness of her voice. "Are you going to be alright? I know this is a lot and, shite, I didn't think a town could look like this and be alive."

"I'm glad it is but…" Nora sighed. "What am I even doing? Who the hell am I? My…I'm barely a mother, I've had to jump through hoop after hoop just to get the damn plans for a device to get me into a place barely anyone goes and…I asked Preston what he knew, and he asked a town that's had to deal with the Institute for a while to see if they'd help, but they wouldn't. I'm stuck with this shit, and –"

"You're not barely a mother, Nora," Cait said, still trying to, soothingly as she could, detangle the lawyer's hair. "You are a mother, and a fucking good one. You went into just about hell for your son, and you're doing your best to get him back to you and safety. If anyone refuses to see the unconditional way you love him, they're mad. You'll get him back."

"But not soon enough to have stopped Kellogg from using him as his living doll," Nora said, bitterness slipping into her voice. "Not soon enough to spare him from losing his father and…he may not even know about me, know I'm his mother, know I…"

"He will, even if it takes some getting used to," Cait shook her head. "I sure as hell didn't have love growing up, but – between you and Mack alone – I know how it should be. You've both done everything you can for your sons, and still are. Duncan knows it with Mack, and Shaun will with you. But…if you need to weep, then weep."

"I hope I won't have to anymore, soon," Nora said, shifting slightly to look at her. "And the…Desdemona, Tom…I don't want them to see me cry. They know more than enough about me, more than I want them to, and the last thing I want is for them to have some way to manipulate me. With the damn prototype they had us retrieve, and the fact there was only one person – there's still only one person – in their ranks who gives a damn enough to tell me the truth is frightening all on its own. I deserve to know the truth, and I'm done with their games. If it gets me to my son, then it'll be worth it but, until then, I…I don't think this is going to be the only break I'll need from them."

"And I'm happy to be there with you," Cait faintly smiled when Nora nodded with one herself. "I know this is new, and…" She paused, her fingers lingering in Nora's hair. "We can go as slow as you need me to. This isn't a race."

"I'm just glad to have someone with me who…" Nora closed her eyes a moment when Cait lightly and briefly kissed her cheek. "Someone who's giving me more than one reason to stay."

"You've got plenty of life left to live for," Cait reassuringly replied, taken aback, again, at the tenderness in her voice. "You've come a long way without giving up, and you won't now. Give yourself a little grace, Nora. You're doing the best you can, and that's all anyone should ask of you. Rest up, lassie. I…I'll see you in the morning."

"Thanks," Nora said, turning to face her again as she stood up and headed out of the room. "Take whichever spare bedroom you want, and I'll…I'll see you in the morning too."

Goodneighbour
July the 25th, 2289
17:58

"Your newest client is coming in from Charlestown in a few weeks. Leaving his former…residence wasn't easy on him, and he got injured on the way up. Stockton is nursing him back to health with help from Savoldi's boy."

"Thank you, Irma. Is everything in order upstairs?"

"Yes, and I've found a few things to keep Kent on the mend. I know you don't like it, but he's dependent on us. People may gossip about the Den taking advantage of him, but the truth is he's our biggest charity case."

"He was born before the War, wasn't he? I've gotten the impression, the few times I've spoken with him. Do you know what happened to him, by chance? I was shocked when he panicked upon seeing my Pip-Boy."

"I'm not entirely sure, but every so often he'll say something off handed about something nasty that happened to him involving Vault-Tec. 'Mari and I should have told you that, Annette, don't worry. Your work is mostly down here as it is, and Kent is mostly my…I suppose you could call him my ward."

"Well, keep a close eye on him either way, Irma. I added new safety settings to his Memory Lounger to ensure he doesn't starve or otherwise pass away, but, until I know they're fully functional, I still need you to keep an eye on him."

"I always do. Here's what we know about your new client. Let me know if you have any questions."

Her eyes still wide and her hands bouncing up and down over each other, Curie looked between the two doctors and the fine and lavishly dressed proprietor in awe; even the smallest movements or words still in and of themselves exciting. It was because she could, now, mirror them, she told herself, but the reason had not done away with the excitement. She delicately waved at the proprietor when the woman began to leave the room, smiling when she waved back before shutting the doors to the laboratory behind herself. Noticing the ruffle of her sleeve had shifted out of place, she quickly readjusted it, happiness swelling in her chest when she saw herself in the mirror upon standing up; she had a body. Her body. She was wearing a long sleeved, white and ruffled shirt and a neat, floor sweeping black skirt. Her clothes, and clothes which the sweet proprietor had given her after a nice walk around town a little over a week before. It had felt strange, stepping into clothes other than those she had come to in, but it had also felt wonderful. It still did. Amari and Annette sitting down at the table a little ways away from the computer terminal array, Curie, upon seeing Annette waving her over, soon joined them, curiosity nipping at her when Amari set down the file Irma had given her in the centre of the table, looking a bit lost in thought.

"I'm not used to Stockton being so hesitant, which has me worried," Amari eventually said. "Either he's a bit paranoid and the synth had been injured when he arrived, or the Institute are a step ahead of us and are on to him."

"From everything you've said, it sounds as though, more likely or not, Stockton is paranoid," Annette said, though bitterness soon cast over her face and voice. "Seeing as his daughter had been put through hell for being even only suggested to be a synth, I can't say I begrudge him his paranoia and be telling the truth."

"Nor can I," Amari replied. "Amelia's life story was tragic enough without that happening. I was surprised when you told me you'd met her even briefly, but I'm relieved you did. Knowing to keep our off the books clients away from that town is important…and I'm more than a little annoyed I wasn't told so by my contacts."

"The secrecy in the Commonwealth seems to be such an enemy of good," Curie said, pausing when Annette and Amari looked to her. "It is strange knowing the Institute would want me for as horrid a reason as the Brotherhood. Until I was told the stories, I thought they both would incredible if competing organisations, much like universities or companies before the War; perhaps rivals turned collaborators, such as RobCo and REPCONN."

"It'd certainly be preferable to what we have before us," Amari frowned. "I thought the Institute were good, if secretive, once myself, and it was a nasty surprise to learn they are not. With respect to the Brotherhood, what I little I had heard about them before their entrance to the Commonwealth had been mixed, but to say my opinion of them has soured quite a bit since would be an understatement."

"The Brotherhood care only about themselves. I can't speak for the Institute, but it's damn near impossible for me to be more distrustful of anything or anyone more than the Brotherhood," Annette said, adjusting her glasses, lips pursed. "I'll admit, I wasn't expecting it when you told me of your collaboration with the Railroad. Knowing I've interacted with a few of their agents in hindsight, now, has left me frustrated with them too, although it sounds as though you feel the same."

"At times, yes," Amari halfway agreed. "I understand their need for cloak and dagger; with the Institute and Brotherhood, you unfortunately can never be too careful when your activities are in contrast to them. That said, I would much prefer to have more information than they usually give me, so I can best ensure the synths I'm trying to help don't end up in worse a state than they would if they were to end up taken by the Institute again or, now, by the Brotherhood. To my understanding, Stockton is in a similar position, so, while I wish he would give me more information, he may not have it or, if he does, I suppose paranoia is something I should expect."

"Sadly, yes," Curie said, bowing her head a moment before opening the file when Amari pushed it towards her. "This is what we know about the person Stockton is protecting?"

"From the man himself," Amari confirmed. "At the very top is a photograph of the synth. Stockton also included a few other things, but the first is his designation, what the Institute called him. H2-22."

"It said he prefers to be called Henry, didn't it?" Annette faintly smiled when Amari nodded. "It's rather sweet Stockton gave him a name he loves. I assume we'll still call him that after we receive and slate him?"

"Yes, although I'm hoping he'll be willing to discuss whatever it is he can remember from life in the Institute first," Amari replied. "The range of recollection from synths I've come into contact with is vastly varied, so there is never a guarantee they'll remember anything. Still, even the slightest bit of information about the Institute is valuable."

"It seems so," Annette mused. "Though I'm still in disbelief about their…primary mode of connexion to the rest of the world. I've seen and read about a myriad of strange and seemingly improbable scientific achievements over the years, but that still was quite a shock to me."

"Every time I review that footage, I feel the same," Amari said with a shake of her head. "I record every memory procedure I perform, and I've observed quite a lot but it was still quite the shock. Speaking of which," She turned to Curie. "I appreciate your willingness to allow me to observe your memories. I know it was quite a burden on you emotionally to witness long since passed moments of your life again, and I hope you know I did not and do not take you permitting me to do so lightly."

"Emotional it was but, I think, worth it," Curie said, though a morose look slipped onto her face. "My view on Vault-Tec, even from reliving my interactions with their personnel and those of whom were my colleagues, has changed quite a bit, and what people have told me about them, too…it's awful. I don't understand why so many of them chose to pervert science and scientific standards of morality. My colleagues were so kind, but I…I think I now fear what they never told me."

"Which is only natural," Amari said kindly, reaching over to reassuringly rest one of her hands over Curie's. "Fearing the unknown is a survival instinct. I believe that was why Vault-Tec and so many other companies before the War were so successful. They knew what people feared most and used it to their advantage. I find it ironic, albeit somewhat satisfyingly, they lost what power they had by the War."

"Not all of it," Annette bitterly corrected. "The Enclave were comprised of so many of their leaders and descendants of those leaders from corporations to the military to the government, and it took over two centuries to put them down for good."

Curie looked to her, surprised. "You have mentioned this Enclave a few times. They sounded quite evil. Were they really comprised of…of some of the people under whom I worked or worked alongside?"

"From what you've told us, yes," Annette said, her hands tense even when she twined them together to stop them from shaking. "And evil is an understatement. The only good the Brotherhood have ever done is put an end to them."

Curie slowly nodded. "Did you ever have contact with the Enclave as well as the Brotherhood?"

"I did," Annette said, anger creeping into her voice. "And, of all the things I regret about my history with the Brotherhood, being involved in ending the Enclave is not and never will be one of them."

"Do you believe in God?"

"Yes. I do –"

"Then go be with him."

"I wish I had known," Curie said, hanging her head in shame. "It was good, to know, my research saved the life of a young boy of Vault 81, but at what cost was it performed?"

"I'm afraid none of us will likely ever know," Amari said, glancing at the open file in front of Curie. "But we're doing our best to give people their best chance at life now, and that is all we can do."

The Commonwealth
August the 1st, 2289
19:10

The beeping and pulsing of the device attached to their strange companion growing all the more impossible to ignore and nearing a security threat, the Paladin, the Scribe, and the Knight stopped upon hearing the shouts of the so-called 'Mechanist's' robots in the distance; quickly, they temporarily disabled the device before regrouping themselves, tension abuzz in the air.

More than a bit relieved, for her part, they had returned to their primary base of operations to resupply and report to their leadership on the status of the investigation, the Scribe carefully and methodically removed her gun from its holster and inspected it, ensuring it was operable and fully loaded. The Knight squared himself for a fight and smirked to himself underneath his power armour; more than eager for a good fight and more than pleased about having been complimented for his thoroughness in their mission thus far by the Proctor of the Order Of The Quill himself. Looking over his two most trusted soldiers, the Paladin gave the both of them a short, approving nod as they slowly began their approach towards where the sounds in the distance were and where the response of the device attached to the unnerving robot with which they travelled laid. Growing closer on the horizon, the acrid smell of burning flesh began to reach them; the sight of an apparent camp appearing from the horizon more than clearly its place of origin. Disgust grabbing him immediately, the Knight held his gun at the ready, expecting to come face to face with ghouls in all their decrepit appearance and, from his experience, nature. A bit of adrenaline left him when, the closer they got, the clearer it was the occupants of the site were humans, but it soon returned when, pausing just out of their lines of sight, they saw what they were doing.

Hunting the 'Mechanist's' robots and, seemingly, doing so for sport.

The Knight let out a dark laugh, an eager smile dawning on his face beneath the helm of his power armour. Almost as amused, the Paladin allowed himself and his Knight and Scribe a moment to take in the scene for its eccentricity. Sure to hold back their robotic companion, the Paladin ordered the automaton to be all but completely silent. In perfect obedience, it did. Her mind racing, the Scribe tried to make note of everything she could from where they were stopped but was abruptly stopped and snatched by the wrist by the Knight. He hissed in her ear to be more aware as they began after their commanding officer, the automaton just behind them. The Scribe shook herself out when he let her go, steadying both of her hands around her gun. The closer they got, a fuzzy veil of smoke started to cloud their surroundings. Noticing them approaching, a raider crouched beside and working on a machine gun turret just past the gates into their encampment started shouting before suddenly stopping to try and shoot down one of the 'Mechanist's' robots that began running towards him. Their good mood and fun unspoiled, several other raiders began to open fire on that robot, too, not paying much attention to whether or not they killed their fellow raider. When both toppled over, dead, the enjoyment of the others seemed to wane; the sounds of robots were no longer piercing.

When a lookout towards the top of one of the old satellites began shouting at the others to beware, a small group approaching, the raiders paused their game, a few of them running up towards the gates. The Paladin reaching the threshold of the gates first, he shot down the handful of them that had gone to investigate. Just behind him, the Knight quickly opened fire as well, soon after followed by the Scribe. A shot from one of the raiders just barely missing her shoulder, the Scribe ducked out of the way of the oncoming line of fire, slipping past and to the side of the left of the gates. Kneeling to the ground and pulling down her goggles to stop her eyes from watering from the haze, the Scribe focused her sights on a few raiders climbing down from one of the long since abandoned satellites. Her hands steady, she pulled the trigger; one of the raiders lost their grip and fell nearly three stories down, not getting up again after hitting the ground. Another nearly slipped, before catching their footing on a few cables holding up part of their encampment between the satellites. Not wanting to risk being noticed, the Scribe slipped even farther out of the way, focusing up and at her targets in the distance and taking mental notes of the types of robots left obliterated all around them.

Much less worried than the Scribe, the Knight wasted no time pushing past the raiders that had greeted them at the gate, shooting down a few before heading deeper into their encampment. Seeing a few robots still roaming about, he shot them first, then shooting the raiders nearest to them. In the far periphery of his line of sight, he saw the automaton accompanying them take out a few raiders itself. With a derisive snort, he kept to making his way through the encampment himself. Cresting the slight hill up into the heart of the encampment, he shifted his sights upwards, quickly opening fire on a few raiders making their way down from one of the satellite dishes. He smirked to himself beneath his power armour when he shot a few to the ground midway through their attempts to descend, almost nonchalantly reloading his gun and continuing to fire on them. Their aim much less accurate than his, the few raiders who did manage to hit his power armour only barely grazed it. Weaving his way around to a rickety stairwell up to a platform attached to one of the satellites, the Knight nearly lost hand of his gun when a raider rushed in front of him from seemingly nowhere. Aggravated, he swiped up at them, hitting the raider squarely in the throat as he regained his bearings. Before they could react any further, the Knight shot them dead, and took a look over the scene from the top of the platform, pleased to find both destroyed robots and the bodies of raiders piling up below.

Far from a stranger to combat or to the combat mannerisms of his best field officers, the Paladin made his way through the encampment in nearly the middle from which they had approached it, putting down a few raiders and one or two increasingly useless robots with relative ease. The smoke and haze of the site appearing to be clearing, the Paladin slowed his movements, looking for any sign of the disconcerting type of robot they were after. Finding none, frustration building in him, he reloaded his gun and began to sweep through the encampment. Too quick for him to notice, a raider slipped out from behind one of the old satellites and attempted to jam the lock on his power armour's fusion core. Whipping around upon feeling pressure on his back startled the raider off, but not before getting a knife caught in the gauge. Still rather startled, the Paladin tried to refocus, and began to open fire quickly. The raider who had charged at him woozy from being whipped around, the Paladin shot them down after some struggle to focus. Noise starting to dampen around him, he kept moving, much more slowly this time, looking twice and then thrice at his surroundings and firing on anything and anyone he felt certain to be an abomination of the Mechanist's or a raider. Continuing to make his way deeper into the encampment, the Paladin only paused when, suddenly, he realised the dust and smoke and haze were almost gone. A few raiders still moving down from one of the satellite dishes from a makeshift lift, the Paladin began to fire on the cables of the device, letting out a short sigh of relief when, after no more than a minute of firing, one of the cables snapped about halfway down from the satellite dish, plummeting the raiders aboard to the ground too.

A few minutes more and, finally, it was quiet.

"What a dirty trick," The Knight said, causing the Paladin to jolt when he came into his sight. "I'm shocked a raider would even know, if you do it right, you can trap a person in their power armour if you jam it properly."

"I'm not surprised a raider wouldn't be able to do so properly," The Paladin replied, though he eased a bit within his suit when the Knight removed the knife and cast it aside. "But thank you, Rhys. Taking any chances on that thing potentially doing damage to my power armour's functions would be stupid."

"It would," He agreed, more relieved than he would admit when he saw the Scribe to be alright and approaching them. "Any sign of our target, Haylen?"

"Not out here," She said, holstering her gun. "More than likely, we'll have to keep looking, and –"

"My databanks indicate there is a former military site beneath this satellite array. I believe it is of high probability our target will be in there."

Startled, the Scribe, the Knight, and the Paladin turned quickly on their heels, only marginally less tense when it became clear their robotic 'companion' had been the one to speak.

"I'm never going to get used to that thing," Rhys muttered to himself. "Fucking –"

"And the entrance to the site?" The Paladin dubiously pressed as the unit grew closer to them. "If you are aware of its existence, then you must know how to access it."

"It should be at the base of the north satellite tower," The unit replied. "If it requires a password to grant entry, I believe I can help."

"No," The Paladin said, turning to the Scribe and, briefly, lifting up the faceplate of his power armour's helmet to smile at her. "We have someone who can do so for us, and, I am sure, much faster and better than you. Now come. Wasting time is useless."