A.N. Thank you for your patience. This was a hard chapter to write. I wrote the core of it months ago when my own emotions were raw but smoothing out that rawness and matching the overall tone has been challenging. And its another long one because I couldn't find a good place to cut it. Trigger warning ahead for assisted suicide.

Chapter 21 - The Death of a Tyrant

The next day, Nora gave Father a short list of people who she thought would be capable of infiltrating the Mass Fusion building to obtain the beryllium agitator.

Her first choice was Nate, or N1-08 as she learned, and he accepted her nomination without protest. Her second choice was Dr. Filmore as she knew the most about the interior of the Mass Fusion building, and they'd need an experienced scientist in the mix to transport the chemical safely once they reached the main reactor. Allie agreed without reservation and began making preparations right away. However, her third choice's response was tepid.

She nominated X6-88.

"I will only follow you when you are the Director and I have no choice." he replied as he swept the pine needles and leaves off the sidewalk and back into the meticulously landscaped arboretum. His silent dismissal was a form of defiance, Nora noted. He could pretend to be disinterested as much as he wanted, but Nora could see the hunger that was there.

Ever since Father disbanded the Courser program, the synths who were trained to be emotionless killers were demoted into service and maintenance jobs. Dr. Binet told her that the alternative would be to deactivate them, do a complete memory wipe, and retain their bodies until they were needed to step in to replace a defective Gen-2. Some went down fighting but they soon knew the irony of being on the receiving end of their factory reset code. X6 was one of the few who chose to voluntarily retire to keep his identity.

Still, she knew that X6 was a capable fighter and could handle himself against a swarm of enemies. Although he had the personality of a wet blanket, she knew that X6 would do everything he could to complete the mission. His loyalty to the Institute coupled with Allie's know-how, and Nate's combat instincts would nicely round out the team.

When she gave the list to Father in his private quarters, he looked it over and set in on his nightstand. His watery eyes were pale and dull, and the skin around his face was beginning to sink in, creating a skeletal appearance.

"Have they all agreed?" He wheezed.

"All except X6. He refuses to follow me until I am formally named the Director." Nora replied.

"Well, he wont have to wait long." Father groused and then coughed weakly. "Thank you, Mother."

The implied dismissal in his voice hurt. "Shaun, can I do anything for you? Anything at all?"

Her son sighed weakly. "No, mother. All I need to do now is rest. I will see you tomorrow for our briefing."

The next three days passed by in the blink of an eye. When she wasn't being briefed on the various tasks that she'd be responsible for once she became Director, she was working with Dr. Binet and Dr. Li.

She spent her mornings with Dr. Li. The woman was diligent in teaching Nora everything about Phase 3, right down to the science that went into nuclear fusion. By the end of their meetings, Nora was nursing a dull headache. Whereas, her time with Dr. Binet in the afternoons was spent discussing more philosophical matters that centered around the morality of synth creation. The topic was far more accessible and it stoked Nora's argumentative nature.

Nora had gone to Dr. Binet's lab to watch the synth creation process again. As the mechanical arm etched the muscles, nerves, ligaments, and veins onto a human skeleton, Nora couldn't help but think of synth Nate.

Dr. Binet gestured towards the four pools of flesh-colored liquid. "Each synth is born with memories already implanted into their brains but they're fuzzy and abstract. It's similar to how adults try to remember something that happened in their early childhood. You might get a vague idea, a memory of a smell or a particular place, but you don't have an anchor to anything specific."

A dark-skinned woman rose out of one, naked and bald, and walked over to an Institute scientist for inspection. The scientist took measurements of her head circumference, body fat, muscle tone, and body weight, and diligently recorded the data on a clipboard.

"Are they scared?" Nora asked.

"No." Dr. Binet replied. "Like a new infant that is born into the world, these synths are still taking in their surroundings. They don't know to be afraid. They don't know what happiness should feel like, or satisfaction, or hunger, or sadness. All of that is learned during orientation."

The newly created woman felt her bald head. Her wide mouth broke into a brilliant smile and she began walking towards the door that said "Processing" in bold red letters.

"How many synths do you create in a week?"

Dr. Binet frowned as he did the mental calculations. "I'd estimate that we create between eight to ten new Gen-3 synths a week. Our Gen-2 line has outlived their usefulness; breakdowns, malfunctions, and system corruptions are happening with more and more frequency. So we've bumped up our numbers slightly to replace our Gen-2 workers with Gen-3s." Dr. Binet paused and a sad smirk pulled at his lips. "Of course, my son's involvement with the steady leak of synths topside has had an effect too."

"So, you're working on a supply and demand model for human creation and you don't see anything wrong with that?" Nora asked.

She often took moments like this to engage Dr. Binet in a verbal sparring match. Unlike her discussions with her son, or even with Hancock, she could debate with the scientist without getting worked up.

Dr. Binet sighed, "Nora, your criticism is the very thing I wrestle with every day, but the Institute has needs. We need synths to run the day-to-day facilities so our scientists can work. We've made more scientific breakthroughs in the last generation than we have in the last one hundred years, thanks to these synths."

"But they didn't ask to be created." She countered.

"Nobody asks to be created or born." Dr. Binet replied. "But when it happens, the person or the synth in question is often there to fill a role that is needed. When my late wife and I decided to have a child, we did so knowing that our child would step into my role once I was too old. Of course, things happen along the way that may impact the original goal, but the motivation is still the same."

"If Liam would've told you that he didn't want to take over your job here, would you have listened?" Nora asked.

Dr. Binet frowned at the strange question, "I don't know. He's been helping me in the lab here ever since he could walk. I don't think he'd be suited for any other job, at least not without someone mentoring him."

"But Liam is now thriving in a world far different than what you had planned for him." Nora replied. "My son is the leader of the most technologically advanced organization in the Commonwealth, and I wanted him to grow up and become a lawyer. Both of our plans for our children were derailed."

"You're tap-dancing around something here." Dr. Binet pointed out.

"It's this." Nora replied. "What if a synth, once created, was given a choice: work with the Institute or be set free?"

Dr. Binet shook his head. "Nora, I know this is hard for you to understand, but setting synths free in the wasteland is far less humane than keeping them here with us. I would've told Liam that if I discovered his plans sooner. With everything that's our there, sending them topside with out the tools, know-how, and capacity to survive is nothing short of murder."

"What if you required synths to pass a series of physical and mental tests? I agree that if they are not physically and mentally capable of handling themselves in a potential combat situation, then sending them topside would be like leading a lamb to slaughter, but giving them an option is better than forced imprisonment and slavery!"

Dr. Binet noted that Nora was no longer just talking about Gen-3 synths. "Nora, your situation with Ayo wasn't an option, it was coercion. Everyone knew that. I just don't see how this would provide a better alternative for the synths. Sending them into danger willfully is more immoral than keeping them here. If they are here with us, at least they are safe."

As Dr. Binet walked away, an idea popped into Nora's head and her mouth opened before she could stop herself.

"What if I could bring you proof?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"What if I could bring a synth back here to meet with you and those synths interested in going topside to explain what life is like outside of the Institute? Then the synths can make the choice themselves." Nora asked. She spoke quickly, hoping that her presumptuous plan wasn't going to blow up in her face. "

"And who did you have in mind?"

"You created her seven years ago. Her designation back then was G7-81 but I know her as Glory." Nora replied. "If Glory can survive in the wasteland for seven years, then perhaps she can help synths who want to leave get established in the wasteland. And this isn't a one off thing, by the way. If they don't like it out there, they can come back."

Dr. Binet considered Nora's suggestion. "Something of this caliber can't be decided by just me, Nora. Are you confident enough in this idea to bring it in front of the Directorate at our meeting next week?"

"Will you be there this time?" Nora asked.

"I can let bygones be bygones long enough to set aside my hatred for Father to voice my support." Dr. Binet said. "But you need to introduce this as your idea. If it came from me, the other division heads would shoot it down quickly. They aren't pleased with my recent absentee habit."

"I'll bring the idea up to Father and the rest of them if you agree to voice your support." Nora replied.

Dr. Binet considered her words and nodded. "You should flesh out your plan as best you can. Aside for Dr. Li, everyone else here has a pretty bleak view of life in the Commonwealth. You'll need to convince everyone that we're not sending synths out to be slaughtered."

Nora thought of her terminal in her private quarters. Now that it was set up to contact Piper and Desdemona, she hoped that she could get some outside support.

"I'll do my best." Nora promised.

"You may disagree with this, but a leadership role like this looks good on you Nora." Dr. Binet replied.

"Thanks." Nora murmured, but her fear wasn't convincing the Directorate or even Desdemona that this would be a good idea. No, the hurdle would be to convince her son.

"Absolutely not." Father wheezed in response to Nora's pitch.

After a day of planning and communicating with The Railroad via the augmented computer terminal in her residence, Nora had gotten Desdemona's approval under the condition that another agent accompany Glory to the Institute to ensure her safety.

"Shaun, please —" Nora pleaded.

"My title is Father and you will call me by it mother." He pounded his fist weakly on the armrest of his wheelchair.

Father became wheelchair bound the day after Nora's first Directorate meeting. The cancer was spreading rapidly and his health deteriorated quickly. His lungs were no longer strong enough for him to walk on his own, and the brain tumor was beginning to interfere with his cognitive functions; the man often found himself in a room with no recollection as to why he was there, and then one night he awoke and couldn't remember his own name.

Seeing their leader's weakness, scientists were beginning to defer to Nora's judgement on smaller matters. Dr. Li and Dr. Binet had fully acknowledged Nora as their new Director, much to her son's ire. Even Dr. Holdren was coming around. He asked Nora to visit his laboratory one evening. At first she expected him to berate her limited knowledge in botany, biology, and chemistry, but he patiently explained the variety of experiments that his team was conducting.

"Father," Nora tried again. "The synth creation process is immoral and unethical, especially if you force them to work as glorified slaves without allowing them a chance to exercise their free will. I am not proposing that we throw these synths into the wasteland unprepared, but many are interested in seeing what life is like outside of the Institute's walls."

"Life is Hell outside of these walls." Father replied. "You and Dr. Li both know that. And you would agree to set them free? To let them roam the wasteland just because they want to? Synths do not want Mother, no matter what your misguided freedom fighting group wants you to believe.

Nora shook her head in frustration. This was the same old tired spiel that she had to listen to when she worked as their Courser. Father couldn't be reasoned with and she wondered whether the brief glimpse of humanity that her son demonstrated on the CIT rooftop was actually genuine.

"Father. When we spoke on the CIT rooftop, you told me that you'd let me run the Institute how I saw fit. I told you this was coming." Nora spoke evenly. She did her best to keep her frustration and anger out of her voice. She pulled every lawyer tactic she knew to negotiate for a better plea deal for these synths. "You replied, 'and here I thought you didn't want the job.' Do you remember that?"

"Yes." Father replied tersely.

"And now that I'm putting that plan into motion, you're pushing back. I don't understand why." Nora replied.

Father held up his head to look Nora straight in the eyes. His head trembled as his body struggled to do this one, small physical function.

"Because I will not see my work thrown out into the wasteland like common trash." Father replied. "I named you my successor, but as long as I am breathing, I am still the Director. You can go forward with your ludicrous plan after I'm dead, but I would hope that the directorate councils you to see reason because you've obviously have taken leave of your senses."

"Father —"

He raised up a gnarled hand to stop her. "My decision is final, mother. This conversation will be tabled to be discussed at a later date. Preferably for a date at which I will no longer be here to listen to this nonsense."

The door opened and Nate stepped in. His appearance was striking. His dark hair was beginning to grow out of the buzz cut it had been in and now inch and a half long strands stuck out unruly and tousled from the top of his head. He didn't make eye contact with Nora but she watched as he wheeled their son … no, her son back to his room.

"That concludes this meeting." Nora replied to the room with a hollow voice. The group dispersed without a word or a meaningful glance back in her direction.

She stood in the directorate meeting room alone for a solid ten minutes. She tried to rack her brain for another angle to take to convince Father that this idea was not only sound but morally necessary for the Institute's future, but all she could think about was the messy dark hair that sat atop synth Nate's head. It was the same hairstyle that Nora fussed over with a comb and hair tonic the day the bombs fell. As the days passed, synth Nate was beginning to look more and more like her husband and less like the imposter she saw him as.

Nora cleared away the lump that was forming in her throat and she noticed that her hands were trembling. Every day, Nora saw Nate wheeling Shaun to and from his doctor's appointments. He'd attend to him with genuine paternal care. He had the same look of unconditional love in his eyes now as he did when he cooed and snuggled Shaun when he fussed and cried at night.

Seeing Nate here with their son was a sort of poetic justice. Although they didn't make it out of the vault as a family, they were still together in some form. But the line she had drawn in her mind — the line that separated her husband's memories and legacy with the existence of a synthetic clone, a complete stranger — well, that line was beginning to blur.

Two days later, Father's words became truth. Dr. Filmore burst into the Advanced Systems laboratory. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot and her face was nearly translucent. Nora was pouring over blueprints of the Mass Fusion building that Dr. Li had spread across a vacant desk. When she saw the woman enter and her heart plummeted to the floor.

"Allie?" Dr. Li asked gently. The woman didn't need to finish her question. Allie latched onto her like they were magnetized and sobbed into the woman's shoulder.

"It's Father." The words tore from her throat like they had been ripped out.

Dr. Li held the sobbing woman and then nodded to Nora. "Go on, Nora. I'll take care of Allie."

Nora didn't remember the walk to her son's private quarters, but when she arrived, two synths were standing guard outside his door. She expected to see Nate somewhere, but she assumed that he was already inside. As soon as the synths saw her, they parted and allowed her to pass through the doorway.

When she entered an unnatural silence filled the room. It was as though the walls themselves were holding a moment of silence for her son. The room smelled stale and she could also smell the slight odor of blood and decay.

Her son was lying in a hospital bed. The blue hospital gown that he wore underneath a grey argyle robe made his skin look nearly translucent. The lights in the room were dim but not altogether dark. Nora noticed that Nate was nowhere to be found and that worried her.

Each heavy-footed step she took towards his bedside echoed in her ears like thunderclaps. Her hands trembled fiercely and so she stuffed them in her pockets.

"Mother." He whispered weakly. His eyes were glassy and unfocused; his skin was coarse and dry and little specks of blood stained his mouth.

Nora bit her lip. During the week of her imprisonment in the Institute's makeshift jail cell, Nora fantasized that she'd be able to exact her revenge on her son for the injustice she suffered at his hands. But seeing him here, helpless and vulnerable, quenched any rage that was still simmering. The lump forming in her throat burned painfully and it kept her from saying anything. Fat tears dripped down her cheeks but she let them fall to the pristine tiled floor.

He opened his hand, palm up, and Nora saw it as an invitation. Her trembling fingers ghosted over his skin and then their palms met.

Father sighed contently when their skin touched. His own skin was clammy and ice cold. He felt just like Nate's frigid skin did when she and Preston had pulled him out of the vault.

"Where's Nate? He should be here with you too." Nora croaked.

Father cleared his throat, but it was no use. His voice still came out as a faint whisper. "H-He didn't wish to be here, and even I can't force anyone to be at my deathbed." He let out a weak cough that was meant to be a laugh.

"Well he should be here!" Nora urged. "I can have someone call for him or —"

"Mother, please." Father rasped. "Allow me this one indulgence. Besides, he's far more useful running security than babysitting me."

"That's ridiculous." Nora interjected but Father cut in.

His hand shook as he patted hers reassuringly. "Mother, many people in the Commonwealth will see this day as a celebration. I've asked that my death be kept confidential and off the record, but of course that means that everyone will find out about it somehow. Information leaks out of the Institute from time to time and our enemies will look at this as an opportunity to strike. N1-08 is more useful running security in case in-fighting breaks out. The transfer of power needs to be seamless. Besides, as selfish as it is, I only wanted you to be at my side for this. It seemed right."

"Do you want to know the first thought that crossed my mind when you were born?" Nora asked but she continued without waiting for a response. "When the doctors handed me you, I thought that I was going to screw you up somehow, but I also told you that I'd fight for you. No matter what happened to us in our lives, I'd fight for you. You yawned and then smiled at me. That was one of the few smiles you gave me, you know, but it meant everything to me."

"I hope that I wasn't too much of a disappointment for you." Father wheezed. "Although, you may not believe it, I too fight for my family here. I fight for my colleagues, their families, and the synths, because the world is dangerous and I want to protect them from that danger."

Nora nodded and ran her thumb along his bony knuckles. "Shaun, I'm sorry about what happened when I left last time. About telling you that I should've had an abortion and for calling you a mistake. I was speaking in anger. I felt betrayed and lonely, and Ayo's abuse just —"

"Never apologize for him, Mother." Father's watery eyes focused in on her. "Moving Ayo into a position of power was a mistake. I, too, regret my actions in that incident. If I had been more sensitive to your needs, then perhaps young Liam wouldn't have felt the need to endanger your life and the lives of several synths."

Nora bit her tongue. She wouldn't argue with her son, not on his deathbed, so she simply nodded.

Father sighed, "I guess we can't prolong the inevitable." He pressed a button on the armrest of his hospital bed.

"What can I do for you Director?" The man's voice asked through the intercom near the bedside. Nora recognized Dr. Volkert's voice.

"I am ready for the medication, Doctor." Father replied softly.

"As you wish, Father." Dr. Volkert replied. "Please excuse my sentimentality but I just want to say that it's been a pleasure working with you."

"Likewise, Dean. Likewise." Father wheezed. When he moved his hand away from the keypad, Nora saw that a clear substance was being fed into his other hand intravenously.

"What is that?" Nora asked, but deep in her heart, she knew the answer.

"I'm taking control of my destiny, Mother. In five minutes, this medication will put me to sleep. In three more minutes, it will stop my heart. The process is entirely painless and dignified."

Suicide. The word sloshed through her mind like a deluge of ice cold water. Her son was choosing death, not succumbing to it naturally, and that was the straw that broke her; she sobbed and nearly fell into the chair that was at his bedside. She grasped his hand harder and she could feel the claw-like bones beneath his thin skin.

"Shaun, why…" But the words died on her lips when he shook his head. His face held a look of determination and conviction; this man of science would die on his own accord thanks to medical intervention. He wouldn't succumb to cancer and whither away any more than his dignity would allow.

"I - I'm sorry, Shaun." She stuttered and wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry that we never got along. You know, it took your fucking illness for us to sit down and talk again. Hell, I don't think we can go a full day without arguing with each other."

Father coughed and winced. His voice was weaker as he spoke, "You know, our tumultuous relationship isn't uncommon. Many mothers and sons don't get along." He had a slight sardonic grin that transformed into a drowsy smile.

That struck a chord with her and she bit her lip to stop the raw sob that threatened to tear from her throat.

"I love you, Shaun." She choked out. She grasped his hand with both of hers and placed her forehead to their clasped hands. "Dammit. I - I just thought I made a mess of everything. I never thought I was good enough for you. I was a shitty mother and I blamed you for what happened. I blamed you for everything - Nate's death, my depression - but I was wrong. I'm so so sorry."

"I have regrets too Mother, but reuniting with you isn't one of them." Father's voice was

becoming slurred as the medication was taking effect. "I care about everyone here. Please know that. I —"

His eyes fluttered and his head rested heavily on the pillow. Nora bit her lip hard enough that she could taste blood. But then her son caught her gaze once more.

"T-thank you for giving me this life." He breathed out. "I —"

He faltered and Nora saw that his tongue and lips were scarlet; the bleeding was getting worse.

After a moment's hesitation, he said. "I—I think I'd like to sleep now."

Her son closed his eyes and the tension and pain in his face began to melt away.

"Shaun? Shaun!" Nora whimpered. Her son's hand fell slack in her hand and she gently placed it back onto the coarse blanket.

His chest rose and fell for another minute until his breathing became imperceptible. Then a minute later his heart rate monitor's beeping slowed until it flatlined.

She looked once more at her son's face. Thin wisps of snow white hair stuck out and Nora gently smoothed them down.

"Goodbye Shaun." She murmured against his forehead and placed her lips to his cold skin.

She didn't hear the automatic door open, nor did she register Dr. Volkart and his team of doctors as they covered her son with a sheet and gently transferred his body to a gurney.

"Nora." Dr. Volkert said gently. "He'll be cremated, per his wishes. Would you like to be present for the process? I find that it gives people much needed closure."

Nora nodded. Although her son's face was shrouded in the white sheet, she remembered how her husband looked when they shrouded him in the American Flag and pulled him from the Vault. Past blurred with the present and Nora briefly thought she could make out the crimson and ivory stripes of the Old World on her son's burial shroud.

She shook her head and tried to dislodge those images from her mind and followed the nurses and doctors who were pushing her son's body out of his bedroom and into the elevator.

When they all stepped out into the atrium, Nora was astonished to see that every synth and scientist who could be spared was standing along the walls and upper balconies. Their heads were bowed respectfully in mourning of their lost leader. Granted, some people looked relieved, but others - including Allie Fillmore - were nearly incapacitated by grief. Small sobs and the occasional mournful wail echoed out in the eerie silence.

As they walked across the atrium towards the Bioscience area, Nora saw Nate standing outside the door with his laser rifle drawn and ready. His eyes flicked from the people, to the synth workers, and then finally to Nora's blotchy and tear stained face. His jaw clenched and his face was unreadable.

When they entered the Bioscience lab, the nurses took a left and went down a narrow corridor and passed through a set of automatic doors with her son's body.

Dr. Volkert turned to her and gestured to another door, "If you please, the observation room is this way. The nurses will undress Father and prepare him for cremation. If you have any questions about this process, please don't hesitate to ask. Now that you are the Director, you are granted access to any and all information about the Institute's affairs."

"Can I request something?" Nora asked. She already hated herself for what she was about to say.

"Of course." He replied.

"Can Nate be present for this too?" Nora asked.

Dr. Volkert spoke into the communicator on his wrist, "N1-08 your presence is requested in the crematorium observation room."

"Affirmative." She heard Nate reply over the communicator.

Dr. Volkert gave her a small, comforting smile and led towards the door. "While you wait, please make yourself comfortable."

The door slid open and Nora stepped into an observation room not unlike the one that she and Shaun sat in while they watched Dr. Binet's synth demonstration in the Robotics lab.

Two plush armchairs sat next to a coffee table. A small bar was set up on the side filled with bottles of vodka, whiskey, bourbon, and rum. It was also stocked with Nuka Cola and Purified Water for those who abstained from drinking or were too young.

The door slid closed and Nora sank into one of the armchairs. Her skin tingled against the cold sweat that broke out across her neck. She ran her clammy hands through her hair and then rested her forehead against her hands.

A profound sense of loneliness struck her with a pain that stole the breath from her lungs. She was the last Pendleton, the last one of her family, and that truth struck her in a way that no physical wound could. She had made her peace with the fact that she might lose her husband one day, after all that was the nature of his job, but she had never imagined that she'd watch her son die too.

When she emerged from the vault, Nora knew that the chances that Shaun had survived were slim, but she let the slim chance that he was alive drive her on an odyssey through the Commonwealth. In a matter of a year, her son went from a small ray of hope to an all-consuming fire that blinded out everything else in her path. And now that the fire had died, she was left in the cold and empty darkness once again.

"Nora?" Nate's voice broke her from her thoughts.

Nate looked hesitant, almost weary, and fiddled with rubbed his thumb and forefinger together nervously. Her son had even managed to get her husband's nervous tic down accurately.

He cleared his throat, "I'm sorry for your loss."

The words seemed so alien coming from the mouth of a man who looked like her husband. She knew he meant it, but she didn't feel the same sense of comfort that those words should normally bring.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"No." Her voice came out garbled amid the sorrow that choked her throat. Nora crossed the room. Nate watched her warily. He was expecting anything except the vice-grip like hug that she pulled him into.

He stiffened against the contact at first, but then gently wrapped his arms around her shoulders. He held her. He would've held her for hours if that would get her to stop crying, but he held her nonetheless as she sobbed in his chest. The wetness from her tears created a damp patch that stuck to his skin.

"I'm sorry Nora." He murmured into her hair. His lips ghosted the flushed skin above her forehead and he tapped into all of his self-control to not plant his lips there.

"It's not fair. You should've been there too." She whispered. But he knew that she wasn't blaming him; she was lamenting his absence.

"He didn't want me there." He replied gently. Nora lifted her head up from his chest and saw how Father's rejection had torn Nate apart. "He wanted his mother."

"You're his father. He's always wanted you."

Nate shook his head. There was an unbridled bitterness in his voice. "I'm his father no more than I'm your husband. I'm just an echo of a man, Nora. Nothing more."

Nora glanced at Nate and saw absolute misery on his face. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too."

"What do we do now?"

"Tomorrow the Directorate will put your nomination to a vote. Since you'll have the majority's vote, you'll be appointed as the new Director immediately afterwords, but for now, the Institute has shut down all non-vital operations until that meeting can take place. That's tradition, apparently."

"Nora?" Dr. Volkert said over the intercom. "Everything is prepared. The cremation will begin in sixty seconds."

"Do you want me to leave?" Nate asked.

"No." Nora whispered. She held out her hand and allowed Nate's large, calloused fingers to intertwine with hers.

"I need you here." She murmured.

The lights in the room dimmed like a macabre movie theater and the room on the other side of the observation glass lit up. Nora saw her son's body was placed on a stainless steel surgical table. He was naked save for a small blue surgical cloth that covered his genitals, and watched as a doctor slid her son's body along a short metal track stopping just before some double doors. The doctor nodded to a synth who was standing nearby and the synth pushed the lever down to reveal a crematorium.

The doctor pushed Shaun's body into the metal beast and the synth closed the door once more. After a few button pushes on a nearby terminal, the doctor's face was bathed in a warm orangish red light as the flames rose up behind the glass window.

Everything was sterile and unemotional. It was so scientific. Dr. Volkert was wrong. Watching this gave her no closure, it only made her feel more empty inside.

After nearly a half hour into her vigil, Dr. Volkert's voice came back over the intercom. "Nora, the process is just about complete. We will preserve Father's ashes in the manner that he requested. You should go back to your quarters now. You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow."

"C'mon, I'll walk you back." Nate murmured.

Nora followed Nate through the bright winding hallways and back out into the atrium. Life carried on like normal for the synths and scientists. Synths and scientists wandered the halls, some were on their way to work, or others were on their way to the commissary, or to the lounges that were situated on the balconies to unwind with an evening cocktail. They all had families and a purpose. Their lives would go on without Father. He would eventually become one more name in the history books for people to read about.

"Are you okay to be alone?" Nate voice pulled her from her thoughts.

They were standing outside the door to her private quarters. Unlike her first room which was smaller and located directly above the SRB, this one held two bedrooms and was located directly above the directorate meeting room. Nora never asked why she was in a two bedroom residence when she was living alone, but she assumed that it was her son's subtle way to either apologize for his past behavior or to encourage her to fraternize with someone more worthy than a ghoul or a out dated synth.

Nora wanted to laugh. She wanted to deflect his question with humor but knew that he'd see through it immediately.

"No." She replied quietly.

Nate looked pained, "Well, my shift doesn't get done for a few more hours yet but I can stop by and check up on you if you want."

Nora nodded. "Yes, please check on me."

Her words held no double meaning. One of Dr. Amari's first suggestions when she was attending to Nora's overdose was that she ask for help when she need it, no matter if the timing seemed inconvenient or whether the issue seemed unimportant. Nora was, for once, asking for help.

"Can I get you anything?" Nate asked. "I remember that you use to read those trashy Love & Life magazines when you were struggling. Unfortunately, I haven't seen anything like that around here but —"

"Can you bring me potato crisps?" Nora asked. "Really, any other food than that Food Product bullshit would be nice. Even two hundred year old junk food sounds better than eating that gelatinous slop."

"I'll see what I can do." He replied.

As he turned to leave she called out to him, "Nate, wait."

He turned back to her.

"Thank you for being there."

"I only did what you asked," He replied, but Nora saw in his eyes that he was lying. Her gratitude made him happy. "Besides, I'm sure you'd rather have one of your boyfriends here instead."

He was right. Having Nick's quiet strength and Hancock's charm would've sent her over the moon, but she also knew that it was impossible. But having Nate there wasn't, he was a flesh and blood person who cared about her, and most importantly, he was there. "No Nate. I'm glad it was you. Having you there during the cremation felt right … it felt normal, almost."

His lip twitched in response and then he bit at the skin around his lip lightly with his teeth. That was another nervous tic that had copied over perfectly from her husband. The line was becoming more and more blurred, she realized.

"I'll always be there for you Nora." He said and then left her room.

It took less than ten minutes before an impermeable cloud of grief and depression settled over her mind. She took the blankets off the bed, wrapped herself up in it like caterpillar wrapped in a cocoon and then cured up on an oversized chair in the sitting area. There was nothing to distract her; her cigarettes and weapons were confiscated, the room had been cleaned to it's utilitarian roots (probably out of fear she'd hurt herself with something that was lying around, she reasoned), and the Institute's radio only played classical music.

Dr. Amari came into her room once to check on her. She paused briefly as if to consider how best to console the grieving woman but turned away without saying a word.

When the alarm clock on the nightstand read half past eleven in the evening, Nora hauled herself out of the armchair. She often slept on the couch or in the chair as sleeping in the bed still gave her nightmares where Ayo was hovering over her, but tonight she knew that sleep would be elusive no matter what she did.

Nora walked over to the computer terminal that was sitting on the blue-grey metal table and switched it on. The green, luminescent screen beeped as it cycled through its protocols and then Nora saw two options that read "Institute Server" and "Private Server."

Nora navigated to the Private Server and she hit ENTER.

There were a couple of messages waiting for her, so she clicked the most recent one that was sent. The time stamp in the top corner read today's date: December 13th

Blue, please send me a message back. I have so much to tell you! I was right. McDonough was a synth. That lying bastard thought he pulled the wool over everyone's eyes but he was wrong. The printing press is nearly working itself into a frenzy as Nat prints as many articles as she can.

Also, Nicky wants to talk with you. That man is persistent — well, not man but you know what I mean. As soon as you respond, I'll snatch him up (sorry, was that the wrong choice in words?). Also, Nicky says, if you hold the SHIFT button for ten seconds, you'll initiate a direct link with my terminal so we can communicate in real time (Isn't that neat?).

Nora did as was instructed and the terminal let out a series of frequent trills until the computer screen went blank and rebooted.

A black curser blinked as it waited for her commands.

Nora tentatively typed. Her fingers struck the keys clumsily and she had to fix her message several times before hitting ENTER.

- Are you there Piper?

She watched the blinking cursor for what seemed like an hour. Eventually, she could feel herself zoning out but then the terminal beeped.

- Blue? Are you there?

- Yes. What's this about McDonough?

- Oh my God, Blue. It's the story of the century! But just wait. Nicky'll be pissed if I don't put him on first. Just wait, okay?

- Ok.

She tucked the blankets around her body and waited. It took almost fifteen minutes for the terminal to beep again.

- Nora? Doll, is that you?

Nora sighed. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine Nick's furrowed expression as his synthetic and metal hands deftly struck the keys. He always had a knack with machines.

- Yes, it's me.

She almost typed "God, I miss you" but stopped. She couldn't let on to Nick that she was suffering. He'd want to do something about it.

- How are you doing, doll? Are they treating you alright there?

- Yes. It's been pretty hectic but I've been given more free reign now to explore and observe. I don't feel like I'm in prison.

- That's good, but how are you doing? Mentally? Physically? I wish I could see you.

- I'm fine.

Nick's response came on the tail of hers. She could here the disapproving tone in his words.

- Don't lie to me, doll.

But before Nora could dignify his response with another lie, he interrupted.

- I heard about your son's passing. I'm sorry to hear it, doll. Apparently word spreads quickly, even Institute news. Somehow Mayor McDonough caught wind of the news and called a town meeting in Diamond City. People were so up in arms that McDonough was an Institute spy that the crowd nearly lynched him. I've never seen Piper look so vindicated, but McDonough wouldn't go down without a fight.

- What happened?

- He attacked a Diamond City guard who was tryin' to keep the peace and was shot dead by the Diamond City security.

Nora bit her lip. She wondered how Hancock would react to this news.

- So you wanna try again, doll? How are you doing?

Nora's confession flowed from her fingers like water draining out of a dam.

- I don't know Nick. I'm grieving, naturally, but I'm also overwhelmed. I can't sleep. I don't know anything about science aside for what I can remember from my college BIO 101 class, and I have to somehow turn the most feared and hated organization in the Commonwealth into a moral paragon of sustainability and responsibility. I'm wondering if Hancock was right. Coming here might've been a bad idea, but I can't back out now. Too many people are counting on me. I'm sorry that I left, Nick. I didn't do it to hurt you. Please believe me.

- I know, doll. I would've done the same. Is there anyone who you can talk to while you're there? You shouldn't suffer through this alone.

- I have a few allies here. Don't worry.

- I always worry, doll. You know that.

Nora chuckled and she closed her eyes, sending silent prayers of love and adoration to him.

- Doll, I also have news from Dr. Amari about Hancock. He came out of the coma yesterday Dr. Amari is calling it a medical miracle. He's still laid up pretty badly, but Amari's been taking good care of him. She's had him go a couple of rounds through the memory lounger to help his brain get back up to speed with current events.

- What do you mean?

There was a brief pause before his words appeared on the screen.

- He didn't remember turning ghoul. That was a helluva shock for him. But he took it in stride like he often does. The news about Fahrenheit's death was harder for him to take.

- And his memory?

- It's coming back slowly. He recognizes me - but my mug is hard to forget.

Nora rolled her eyes. She could already see his self-depreciating grin.

- Does he remember me?

There was another pause, this one nearly twice as long, and Nora wondered if Nick got called away to do something, but then the terminal quietly beeped.

- No. I'm sorry.

The permanence of that 'no' was damming. Nora knew that it was better this way. With everything in front of her — Shaun's death, becoming Director, executing the raid on Mass Fusion, dealing with the ever increasing Brotherhood threat — she couldn't have person at risk of being pulled into the voracious tempest that was her life. Besides, if Mamma Murphy's prophecy had been right, then at least Hancock's amnesic fate was the lesser of the proposed evils.

- It's okay.

- It's not okay Nora. Get pissed if it would help, but don't take this lying down. Bottling all of this up wont help.

Nora could feel the frustration in his words. She could almost imagine him biting down on the end of his cigarette as he scowled at her response. A second response came shortly after his first one.

- I want to see you. I don't care what you have to do. I'll come there if I have to. The people wont hurt me if they know I'm with you.

A knock on the door cut through the silence and Nora jumped.

"I'll be right there." She called out.

- Nick, please relax. I'd love to have you with me but things are tense right now. When everything calms down, I will make some sort of arrangement to see you. Okay? Be safe. I love you.

- Alright. I love you too, doll. Try to get some sleep.

Nora hit the SHIFT key rapidly five times and their chat disappeared from the screen. A blinking curser waited, ever dutifully, for her next commands.

"Nora, it's me." Nate called through the door. "Can I come in?"

"Yes, go ahead." She called.

Nora rose from the desk as the door slid open. Nate came in with an assortment of boxes, foil-wrapped goodies, and four bottles of Nuka Cola.

"I had to bribe one of the scientist's kids to show me where they kept the good snack foods." He replied.

Nate put the food and drinks on the table and passed Nora a box of Sugar Bombs cereal.

"Your favorite, remember?" He replied.

Nora opened the cardboard flaps and tore into the thick plastic. She smelled the cereal tentatively and the memory of the artificial sweeteners and puffed wheat brought her back to their kitchen table in Sanctuary Hills. She could almost hear Codsworth's idle humming as he prepared coffee and the dull drone of Nate's sports channel recapping the latest baseball game.

"Are you okay?" Synth Nate asked as he tore into the foil lining of a Fancy Lad Snack Cake.

"Yeah." Nora replied. "I'm just thinking about us. Our life back in Sanctuary, I mean."

She tossed a handful of Sugar Bomb cereal into her mouth and sucked on the sugary coating until the puffed wheat became mush in her mouth.

"God, this would be so much better with milk." She lamented.

Nate grinned. "Sorry, I couldn't find a stray cow down here. It seems that the Institute's been under a mandatory lactose free diet."

Nora brightened. "Hey, you know they're called brahmin now? The cows I mean. And they have two heads. That was a helluva surprise when I made it out of the vault."

Nate swallowed a piece of sugary sponge cake and passed Nora a lukewarm Nuka Cola before opening one for himself. "You never did get a chance to tell me how you made it out of the Vault."

"It's kind of a long story." Nora replied and ate another handful of cereal.

"Well, we have enough junk food to put both of us into a diabetic coma. And I'm feeling up for pulling an all-nighter if you are. What d'you say, for old time sake?"

Nora considered his proposition while taking a swig from her own Nuka Cola. After everything that had transpired in the past few days, Nora knew that she needed a moment — no matter how small — to disconnect from everything that was happening and relax.

Nate had always been good at that. With the world on the brink of war, and with the stresses from law school, her family's expectations that she settle down and start a family (like a proper woman), and the never ending financial struggles of a couple of college students trying to start a life in the middle of Boston, Nate was always good at distracting Nora and diverting her attention to the things that truly mattered.

And there, with her son's death fresh on her mind and with the Commonwealth wasteland standing on the precipice of war, Nora told Nate her story.