It felt like a dream.

It must have been. A laughably ridiculous dream, all of it.

She'd wake up and relay it all to her husband, Nate, later that morning over coffee, and he'd chuckle and tell her she'd fallen asleep listening to the radio while going over a case again. Pushing her shoulder to his, she'd say someone has work around here, because we can't all be war heroes. He'd pretend to take offense and scoop her up, laughing all the way to the bedroom. In the evening, she'd put on a gown and help him straighten his tie, admiring how handsome Nate looks in his dress blues, before heading out to his speaking engagement at the Veterans Hall. Codsworth will have put Shaun down for the night, and-

Shaun.

Her eyelids twitched; her mind faintly registering a low ping-ping-ping in one ear.

No. No, her baby was safe. Shaun was safe, and so was Nate. Guilt. That's all this was, guilt over going out for the evening for the first time since bringing Shaun home from the hospital, toying with residual fear from the nightmare. That's all.

The next ping spiked, and the next, growing faster, knocking on the door of her mind, demanding her attention, like the representative from Vault-Tec had earlier that day. Like the explosions as her family rode the elevator down to Vault 111.

They'd had mere minutes to run up the trail to the construction site, once the sirens started, neither she nor Nate thinking to grab any possessions save their one month old son, who'd cried all the way from doorstep to Vault. He'd only quieted down once she'd kissed both him and his father, before following staff directions and stepping into what they'd claimed was a decompression chamber.

Now, memories of screaming their names behind frost kissed glass, beating her fists as hard as she could as Nate was shot point blank and Shaun whisked away still fresh in her waking mind, it hit her, like a punch to the gut: there'd be no returning home. She'd never wake up in her own bed, and no child, no loving husband waited for her down the hall from their bedroom. Someone had stolen her future, right from in front of her. She hadn't been strong enough to save her family.

Her eyes squeezed tightly against the warmth of fresh tears, cheeks stiff with frozen remnants of old ones shed. Her leadened body refused to move. The whirring of gears and loud click proceeded a strong gust of air, feathering her dark hair over her shoulders. Inhaling sharply through blue tinged lips, feeling life course through her limbs again, she coughed as the cold slithered down her throat and into her lungs, reaching blindly forwards for the glass lid. She met empty space, instead, abruptly spilling out of her containment unit onto the metal floor, breathless.

The monitor registering her vitals had fallen silent. She lay on the floor for several minutes, blood rushing in her ears. She tried opening her eyes, but the safety lights were blinding at first; the world appearing as shapes in varying shades of blue and gray. Lifting her head and pushing up on her arms with a grunt, she managed to sit in a sidesaddle position, rubbing at pulsing tension gathered in her temples. A lump formed in her throat, fear clawing impatiently at her heart; waiting for her vision to clear was agonizing.

When the far wall of cryogenic pods came into focus and she could flex her fingers and toes, she tried to stand. Nerves and muscles screamed electric shock for want of use, but she pushed through it and found shaky footing.

It was straight out of her nightmare. Nate's pod remained closed, but she could make out his form behind the glass, his eyes closed, posture unnatural. Drawing closer, blotches of dark red became visible, spattering the right side of his head, the inside of his chamber, his suit. The monitor attached to his tube had flatlined. He was gone.

Choking back a sob, she tearfully operated the release lever to open the lid of Nate's pod, carding through his wavy hair, caressing his frosted cheek and pale lips. Her name would never pass over those lips again, she realized, wiping an arm across her eyes. He'd never again smile at her. Kiss her. Talk about their future, their son's future. That future would never be. Their infant son, nestled in Nate's arms when the medical team had first loaded them into their pods, truly was taken by her husband's murderers. And the monitors hooked up to friends and neighbors around the room meant they, too, were gone.

She was alone.

The dam finally broke. She wept as her left hand found and twined with his, cries echoing through the silent chamber, grief an overwhelming tide threatening to drag her to her knees. Bracing herself with her free hand against the mouth of the pod, she took deep, ragged breaths, vision swimming. No, no, she couldn't stay here, Shaun needed her now. Chaining herself here would be fatal for both of them, and she had no way of telling how much time she'd already lost.

As her breathing stabilized, she became aware of something smooth, metallic between her fingers. Nate's wedding ring. Portable, lightweight, but solid; something to remember them by, carry with her always. Sniffling, she attempted to pull it free. It stuck fast behind his knuckle, second and third tries no different. The thought of harming Nate's body over such a small thing turned her stomach. Instead, she reached for the dog tags inside the collar of his Vault suit, slipping them over his head and down over her own. The pod door swung closed again as she stepped away, tightening her fist around the dog tags until they nearly cut into her palm.

"I'll find who did this," she told Nate's pale form, touching the glass. "I'll get Shaun back. I promise." She let her arm drop to her side, taking a step back. "I love you." Tears streaming down her cheeks, she moved towards the metal door at the far end of the room, still clutching the dog tags.

Stepping into the main hallway and glancing into side rooms, it appeared as though there were a riot; crates of supplies busted open, papers scattered along the floors, caches of weapons broken into. Bullet casings trailed down the corridor. What had happened to the brightly lit, spotless interior bustling with activity that she remembered? Where was the Overseer? Security? Had whoever taken Shaun murdered the entire staff and taken off with the Vault's inventory?

Reaching the central office, she halted, clasping a hand over her mouth. A skeleton, clad in a white coat, was seated behind the Overseer's desk, heavy eyeglass frames hung from a cord at the neck. Another skeleton in a Vault-Tec security jumpsuit sprawled nearby, clutching a pistol. Whatever had killed these men had done so ages ago, she decided, stepping carefully around them to the still operational computer on the desktop. She could find out more if he'd left his login active, as was common among older associates at the law practice where she'd worked. Apart from writing up case files, she herself didn't have a knack for computers, despite falling in the age category they'd thought proficient with technology. She'd invested in other pursuits.

Fortunately, the computer was still open to the Overseer's personal logs. A cursory search of his files informed her that there had indeed been an uprising, but not from outside the Vault. A shortage of resources had led staff to revolt against the Overseer only months into their stay, but it didn't give her a complete picture of events, or an idea of conditions outside the Vault, things that'd happened while she was frozen. No real starting point to track her son.

An overhead speaker called for mandatory evacuation, startling her out of her thoughts. Hope welled up in her before subsiding again, as the announcement ran for a third time, cadence and pitch identical. The person speaking must be long dead.

She twisted her mouth a little as she retrieved the pistol from the security guard's skeletal hand, gathering some ammunition and strapping on a holster from nearby cabinets before heading out of the office. The weight felt familiar in her hands, evoking the many afternoons spent with her father at the shooting range. After she'd married Nate, the three of them would sometimes meet up at the base and go together. She never was as sharp a shooter as either veteran, but she felt confident enough with a pistol to defend herself, if it came to that.

Or put a bullet between the eyes of the monster that shot her husband. Adrenaline fueled rage surged through her, images of a broad, scarred face resurfacing to taunt her. "Backup," he'd called her, whatever that meant. Perhaps he intended on returning for her? Maybe silencing the last witness of his crime, she thought with a scowl, jamming a fresh magazine into her pistol with shaky hands. The bastard's got another thing coming if he thinks I'll just wait for him here.

Scuttling noises from the next room drew her attention, bringing her focus back to the present. Peering around the door frame, she could make out two, then three, oblong shapes darting between pylons, along the floor. One shuffled near, twiggy antennae busily searching the air, profile illuminated by an emergency light.

"Giant...cockroaches? What the hell?" she heard herself mutter, alerting the mutated insects to her presence.

The roaches were faster than something their size should be, and aiming for a good shot at any of them was incredibly difficult, bullets ricocheting in orange sparks off the floor and walls. One was bold enough to fly at her face; she was able to punch a round through its thorax with a sharp crack, dropping it. The others charged her legs and feet as she recoiled from the last shot, trying to bite their way through her suit. With a cry, she grit her teeth and bringing down her boot heel, crushing one head; greasy residue exploded outward. The last she pistol whipped into the wall, stomping until it was reduced to ooze and bits of carapace.

Shaking, she slumped against the wall, checking her ammunition while catching her breath. Firing the 10 millimeter had been like getting back on a bike, but it would take time to adjust herself. Not even a full year had passed since she'd announced her pregnancy. She hadn't been allowed much physical activity in that span, and despite having meticulously followed an exercise regimen prior to carrying Shaun, she could already tell her body was in need of reconditioning. And how did those things get into the Vault? What were they, even? She'd get no answers and no closer to reuniting with her boy if she sat here forever, letting exertion get the best of her.

After a long moment spent in silence, she pushed herself up and continued following the hall towards what she thought was the entrance, relieved when her memory served correctly, and slightly more relieved that there weren't any more roaches on the control platform. There were more bodies, all reduced to bones and cartiledge. Perhaps that made the sight of so many dead easier to handle.

The technician at the vault door control panel had something around its wrist that she didn't recognize at first glance. Closer inspection revealed it to be a Pip-boy; dusty, but intact. Picking it up, she closed it around her left forearm, wiping grime from its screen, rubberized interior cushioning self inflating to fit her. The overly cheerful, rounded face of Vault-Tec's mascot appeared with a chime as its software updated, its built in vitals monitor synching with her heart rate. The screen cast a green glow over her as her fingers scrolled the main wheel, taking the personal computer through its paces: data storage, holotape player, area mapping. It still registered a connection with whatever proprietary network that Vault-Tec ran, thankfully, and having access to maps would be immensely helpful. If she made it to the surface.

Anxiously, she worked the door controls until she stumbled onto the right sequence, klaxons ringing overhead. Massive gears and pistons creaked and rumbled to life, shedding layers of dust as the giant, gear shaped seal over the inner Vault rolled away. Floodlights from the elevator shaft filled the room. Choking out an elated, strangled cry, she hurried across the gantry to the elevator platform. It automatically began to ascend. Thoughts of Shaun safely back in her arms ran freely through her mind, a fragile smile forming on her lips as she propelled upwards.

Bright, warm orange light broke over her and she felt the elevator come to a stop with a soft hiss. She stepped forward, shielding her eyes against the red afternoon sun hovering over a blackened treeline. Her heart sank. She fell to her knees, overcome with dread at the alien landscape that greeted her.

Trees, houses...gone. Silence.

The world had ended.