Chapter Text
Jack wakes up in bed alone.
He’s sure Nick was beside him when he went to bed. Jack scrubs a hand over his face and feels vaguely nauseous from too much alcohol last night. He’d like to stay in bed for the rest of the day and hide from the responsibilities he’s picked up, but there are too many things to do, and the Brotherhood isn’t going to slow down their invasion.
Jack can hear snippets of a conversation in the Agency below as he gets his bearings. It sounds like Ellie is downstairs along with Nick and Leslie, but he can’t hear much beyond the tones of their voices. They are speaking lowly, probably to keep from waking him. Jack sits up and drags himself to the edge of the bed; a headache roars to the forefront, and he takes an extra moment to breathe before scrounging through the dresser for some clean clothes.
It seems an egregious waste of the stimpak to clear his hangover, so Jack pulls on his boots and heads down to the group in the Agency.
Nick, Leslie, and Ellie sit around Leslie’s desk, discussing in depth what Nick experienced at the Institute. Ellie stands when she sees Jack and presses a cup of coffee into his hands before grabbing another folding chair from the few stashed between the filing cabinets.
He murmurs a grateful thanks and sits in the chair Ellie grabbed for him. Leslie slides a tin of Mentats over to him wordlessly, and Jack briefly considers them before shaking one out of the tin. He doesn’t feel so bad about using a Mentat to cover the worst of the headache until his body manages to heal itself.
“What time is it?” Jack asks. He forgot to grab his pocket watch off the nightstand, and it’s probably not accurate anyway since he definitely didn’t remember to wind it before he conked out.
“About ten,” Ellie replies.
“A little after,” Nick adds. “Didn’t want to wake you. You seemed to need the rest.”
Jack nods. “Agency closed?”
Leslie shakes his head. “No, but it’s probably gonna be quiet until people really accept that this is the new Nick. Everyone’s still pretty hesitant.”
It’s a hell of a thing to get used to; Jack’s still struggling with Nick’s new face.
“I booked the morning off, so we’ve just been catching up,” Ellie says. “I’m ready whenever you’ve had something to eat.”
The idea of food turns Jack’s stomach, and the expression on his face must speak volumes because Ellie pats his knee and gets up from her chair.
“I’ll get you some broth from Tak,” she says, and before he can protest, she’s out the door.
Jack groans and sets his head down on the cool metal of Leslie’s desk.
“Been there,” Leslie says in a commiserating tone, and Jack makes a garbled noise of acknowledgement.
Nick strokes the back of his neck while they wait for Ellie to return. When she does, the smell of the fragrant broth entices Jack back to life, and he drinks the bowl and his coffee until he feels like a human being again.
“Thanks,” Jack says, rocking himself out of the chair to get his gear on.
“No worries,” Ellie replies, “You looked pretty pathetic.”
“I feel pretty pathetic.”
“One measly hangover won’t kill you, jeez,” Leslie scoffs. “Drama queen, much?”
“Never said I wasn’t,” Jack replies and heads around the wall to get fully dressed.
He still feels like garbage when his tool belt, weapon belt, armoured vest, and boots are done up, but at least he’s hot garbage. Not that cold sludgy stuff. When he returns out front, Nick hands him a pair of sunglasses, which he takes with a grateful nod, and then the three of them leave the Agency.
As they walk through the Market, a few people stop them to talk with Nick and Ellie, but it’s not for long and nothing really of consequence. Jack believes people want an excuse to experience Nick’s new body for themselves, hear him talk and remember their names to reassure themselves that he is who he says he is. It helps that Ellie has no problem being seen with Nick or chatting with him; she knows him best, and people look to her interactions to gauge their responses better.
Outside the Wall, Jack leads them to where they left X6-88 and X9-27. As they reach the area, X9 melts out of the shadows, laser rifle held loosely in his hands.
“Director,” he says in greeting.
“Morning,” Jack replies. “X6 kicking around?”
“Here, Director,” X6 replies, appearing on the other side of the group.
Ellie makes an abortive noise of surprise, hand grabbing Jack’s arm, but she recovers quickly and lets him go. Choosing instead to smooth the edges of her dress to cover her anxiety.
“Hey X6, stealthy as ever, bud,” Jack says. “I’ve brought the Mayor of Diamond City with me, Ellie Perkins. She wanted to meet you before we settled on your placement in town.”
X6-88 turns to Ellie and nods his head briefly. “Greetings.”
Ellie smiles slightly and holds a hand for the Courser to shake. “Hello, good to meet you.”
X6 looks at her hand momentarily like he did with Kellogg and then gently shakes it as if he’s afraid to break it. When he lets go of it, Ellie turns to X9 and also holds her hand for him to shake. He looks at X6-88 momentarily as if surprised and then replicates X6’s gentle handshake.
“And you as well, X9,” Ellie says before turning back to X6. “I hope it’s not too much of an imposition to talk with me briefly about your placement in our City. Obviously, I trust Jack’s judgement here, but I wanted to get to know you a little bit so we can better work together.”
“My orders are to watch for Brotherhood infiltration in the City and the surrounding areas. I will require a bed for short durations in an area secure from the populace, but I will not require any other sustenance,” X6-88 says.
Ellie nods. “I’m sure I can find a place that will be away from prying eyes, though it may be less comfortable than whatever luxuries you are used to in the Institute.”
“I am accustomed to the sub-standards that are the norm on the surface,” X6 replies.
Ellie smiles at that, but Jack can see annoyance in the lines of her eyes.
“Right, well, try not to be too hard on the accommodations, X6,” Jack says, steering the conversation away from X6, putting his foot in it any further. “And don’t Relay in too much of that gloop they call food either. It literally will not kill you to enjoy some of the local fare.”
X6-88’s mouth ticks down in a slight frown as he says, “As you say, Director.”
“Yes. I do. And you are supposed to be undercover in town, so you’ll need a new getup. That look screams Institute death machine, and we don’t need to scare the folks in town any more than we already have,” Jack tells him. “Might be a good idea to establish a forward post around here and keep your gear stashed in this area for use outside of Diamond City.”
X6-88 nods, though he doesn’t look thrilled at the prospect of giving his coat up.
“Ellie, I’d appreciate it if you’d help him out with that. I’ll reimburse the cost of some clothes at Fallon’s that tone down X6’s look.”
“Of course.”
“Good. X6, you make your forward station and talk to JH about the necessary supplies.” He pats X6-88’s shoulder good-naturedly, hoping that a little familiar interaction will help warm Courser to him. Director or not, he needs all the goodwill he can get from them. “X9, we gotta make a trip over to Goodneighbour.”
“On your command, Director,” X9-27 says.
“Nick, we should both make some reintroductions in Goodneighbour, but I’m sure you’ll catch up to us. See you later, Ellie. And…thanks.” Jack flashes her a smile that Ellie returns with a nod before he wheels away from the group, X9 in tow and starts off to the east toward Goodneighbour.
Nick wanted to talk with Ellie about his…condition, and this is his opportunity to do it while they’re alone.
About a half hour later, when they’ve just passed the Commons, Jack takes a moment to rest on the hood of an old car with some brahmin jerky and a can of purified water that X9 pulled out of a pocket, much to his grateful surprise. His stamina is still pretty shit after his incarceration in the Institute, and he’s still not feeling great with his hangover. It was a little ambitious to head over to Goodneighbour so soon after the party, but he’s got to head out to Ticon tomorrow, or he won’t be on time to meet with Butch.
After that, he’s got to trek back to Diamond City, grab Carrington, and talk with the Railroad, but first, he needs to make sure that High Rise is okay with his plan to relocate the Railroad HQ to his building. He’s pretty sure High Rise will be good with it, but it’s polite to ask.
And since he’s going a lot slower these days until he gets his strength fully back, he needs the extra time to recoup between his errands around Boston.
Nick finds them when Jack has nearly finished his can of water.
“Everything alright?” he asks as he sits beside Jack.
“Just tired and hungover. I’ll be okay.” He drains the can to wash the last of his jerky down.
Nick peers at him like he doesn’t quite believe that statement but doesn’t refute it. Jack hands the can to Nick so he can stash it in a pocket for reuse and slides off the car's hood.
“Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”
It takes another forty minutes or so at Jack’s slower pace for them to reach the outskirts of Goodneighbour. As he did with X6-88, Jack tells X9-27 to scout for a forward base that can be made secure to stash his gear and talk with JH about bringing in appropriate supplies.
“Meet me back here in two hours, kay? Me and Nick gotta talk with Hancock first before we spring a synth on him.”
X9 looks briefly at Nick as if to say, ‘Isn’t he a synth?’ but nods in agreement.
“A new synth. Come on, pal, you know what I mean,” Jack grins at him and claps him on the shoulder as well, just as he did X6. “Good luck on finding a place, and don’t die.”
“I will not.”
“Excellent,” Jack replies before he and Nick make that last short leg to Goodneighbour.
Before entering the main gate, Nick grabs Jack’s arm and pulls him off to the side.
“How are we playin’ this? No Ellie this time to smooth things over.”
Jack shrugs. “This also isn’t Diamond City. We go to the State House, charm Fahrenheit into letting us see Hancock and spill the beans to them both.”
“And if he doesn’t believe us?”
“Why wouldn’t he? I’m still me, and you’re still you, and we still have all the memories that make us, us.”
Nick sighs. “No, I mean that he thinks we’re synth replacements and sicks the Watch on us.”
“Well, technically, you are. Courser replacement for a Gen 3 prototype.”
Nick frowns slightly. “You’re bein’ deliberately obtuse.”
“And you have no faith. If it comes down to it, I’ll just slice my arm open and show him its bone down there and not steel.” Then he laughs slightly. “Well, not this one,” and he holds up his cybernetic arm.
“The hell you will,” Nick replies, the words implying the outraged tone that his voice doesn’t convey.
“Just try and stop me, Nick. It’s vital that Hancock is on our side. We need all the major settlements to make this resistance work. Bunker Hill will be a major pain in the ass, but we’ve got ins with Diamond City and Goodneighbour, and I will make sure that we’re believed. Even if that means I gotta spill some blood. Plus, Hancock would love a stunt like that.”
Nick frowns further. “I don’t.”
“Sorry pal, but today? It ain’t about you.”
Jack turns from Nick and pulls open the door to Goodneighbour, effectively ending the discussion.
Fahrenheit stares at them with a dour expression when they get to the upper floor of the State House, but Jack has never let that slow him down. He smiles and asks to talk to Hancock. When she questions who he is and what he wants, he cheerfully tells her that he’s the Lone Wanderer.
This time, she gives him a slow up-and-down, as if she doesn’t believe him but can’t refute it.
“So, this is what you really look like, huh,” she says, clearly unimpressed.
“Ouch. That hurt my one feeling.”
She snorts and looks at Nick. “Who’s the Valentine wannabe you got doggin’ your heels?”
“Unless somebody else has a getup this threadbare and old, you’re still suck with me, Fahrenheit,” Nick says. “Kooks at the Institute threw me in this new body to hurt Jack, and we’re all dealing with the consequences of that.”
Fahrenheit’s eyebrows raise. Nick doesn’t sound like himself in that his voice isn’t right without the vocal processor that mimics the sound of Old-World Nick—this Courser had his own fleshy vocal cords; however, the cadence hasn’t changed, and his old Boston drawl is still right, so it’s like somebody doing a solid impersonation of Nick.
“Consequences or…improvements?” she asks with a smirk and a brief lowered flick of her eyes to Nick’s waist and then back up.
“Whoa now, I’m 100 percent a blushing virgin,” Jack replies, “and don’t you sully my reputation with such dirty implications. Nick’s improvements are nowhere near the gutters of my mind.”
Fahrenheit hums an amused noise of disbelief as she pushes herself off the side table she used as a prop to lean on. She knocks on Hancock’s door in two quick successions before opening it and gesturing for Jack and Nick to pass through.
Inside, Hancock is talking with a few members of the Neighbourhood Watch. From the ends of the conversation, there’s some issue ongoing with the Silver Shroud character that’s taken up residence in town, and as much as Jack would like to hear the rest of that problem, the group clams up the moment they spot Jack and Nick enter.
Hancock eyes the two of them, lingering a moment on Nick, suspicious, before he turns to Fahrenheit. “Thought I said I was busy.”
“Oh, you’re gonna wanna hear this,” she replies, settling against another table near the door.
Hancock frowns slightly but waves the Watch out. “Come back later, boys; we’re not done.”
The Watch nods and leaves, looking at Jack and Nick like they will jump Hancock. Jack smiles and finger waves as they walk by. Fahrenheit snorts.
“So, you here to sell some synth shit about comin’ back safe and sound from the Institute?” Hancock asks, lighting a cigarette. “We don’t play nice with synth replacements in this town.”
The threat in that last sentence is about as bald-faced as it gets.
“Always was a replacement, Hancock. My guy just died when the bombs fell,” Nick replies, frank.
“True enough.” Hancock takes a long drag of his smoke and stares at Nick, thinking. “You rescue this idiot or what?”
Nick shrugs. “Kid did most of the work himself; I just killed the boogeyman haunting him.”
Jack watches in silence. Adding to the conversation right now might get them on Hancock’s bad side, and he needs Goodneighbour to be a real good, good neighbour.
“Yeah? Which one was that?”
“Braun.”
Hancock nods like he knows what Nick’s talking about, and hell, maybe he does. Jack hasn’t gotten around to listening to that tape of JH’s. “Well, let’s hear the story then; I’ll decide from there.”
So, Nick and Jack sit in Hancock’s office and explain the whole story again. Nick doesn’t bother putting on a show about his emotions this time like he did in Diamond City. Probably for the best, Jack suspects Hancock would see right through it. He also remembers that he didn’t ask how the conversation with Ellie went, but he assumes it went fine since Nick didn’t say otherwise. Then again, Jack isn’t sure what Nick considers fine anymore. If there’s no emotional investment, maybe Ellie did have a minor breakdown, but Nick couldn’t care.
Jack drags his thoughts away from that track; Ellie is strong enough to cope with whatever Nick tells her.
When they get to the end after the death of Shaun, Hancock looks at Jack with real sadness on his face. He’s known Nick for a long time, and what Shaun did to him, and subsequently Jack, is weighing on him.
“I’m glad the fucker is dead,” Hancock says after a moment. “Pretty impressive to have taken over the Institute.”
“Well, that part was relatively easy once I was out of Acclimation; it’s the holding on it that’ll be the real problem. Even with JH,” Jack replies.
Hancock nods. “Always is, brother. You should probably go see Marty, Nick. He’s been busy with the Shroud. Could probably use a bit of your more…delicate touch,” he says out of the blue, turning to Nick.
Nick looks at Jack momentarily, and they have a silent conversation. Hancock has been nice about it, but he’s dismissed Nick in favour of talking with Jack alone.
Nick stands. “That slip of a girl giving him a problem?”
Hancock shrugs. “She’s startin’ to piss off the wrong type of people in town, and they want Marty to find out her identity. Would prefer to keep Mags happy, so I’d appreciate it if you’d lend a hand.”
“Sure. I’ll see you later, kid.”
“Yeah. I won’t leave without you.”
Nick snorts. “We’ll see.”
Fahrenheit follows Nick out the door and shuts it behind her, leaving Hancock and Jack alone. Silence settles on the two of them.
“So, what’s the part you ain’t sayin’?” Hancock asks, leaning back on his couch and putting his boots on the table.
Jack raises an eyebrow over the edge of his sunglasses. “About what?”
“What happened down there. Skipped over a pretty big chunk of time, Jackie. You were gone for over a month.”
“It’s not really something I want to revisit.”
“Torture? Pretty clear they don’t see us as worthwhile living beings up here.”
“Something like that.”
“Physical?”
“Psychological.”
Hancock frowns. “Worse.”
“Yep.”
“You holdin’ together okay?”
Now, Jack frowns. “Worried about my mental state?”
“Yeah. Shouldn’t I be? You got tortured for weeks, lost an arm, essentially lost Nick, and now we got war brewin’. One of those things is a lot to deal with, but all of them together is more than most could handle. If you plan on leadin’ us in the fight against the Brotherhood of Steel, I need some reassurance. Can’t have you breakin’ down mid-fight and disappearin’ or jumpin’ off a building downtown.”
“Jokes on you, Hancock; I already jumped off a building downtown.”
“And you fled a Wasteland when they needed a leader.”
Jack looks down at that. How many times has he said the same thing to himself? “And what did it get me? Still have to fight the Brotherhood, don’t I? Still have to face up to the mistakes of the past.” He gives a hollow laugh. “Thought I could outrun the past but found out the hard way you can’t. Last time, I thought I was alone in my grief and rage; this time, I know I’m not. And even without Nick, I have other friends who have looked out for me, even when I didn’t deserve it. The least I can do now is ensure the Brotherhood doesn’t take another Wasteland.”
Hancock considers him for a long moment, trying to decide if Jack’s words are enough of a promise he’ll not bail on this Wasteland. “Not the rousing speech I was hopin’ for from the famed Lone Wanderer.”
“You’re better at the speeches, Hancock. I don’t have the Declaration memorized.”
“Sounds like you need a PR person, then.”
Jack laughs a little livelier this time. “Yeah? Volunteering?”
“Maybe. Normally, wouldn’t offer services for free, but it’s a hell of a situation we’re findin’ ourselves in.” Hancock drops his feet and leans forward on the couch. “Plus, I worry I’ve become a little narrow-minded these last few years. Am I still of the people for the people, or am I just for me, myself, and I? Feel like I’m always puttin’ down the guys I used to love runnin’ with before this whole Mayor gig.”
“Like the Shroud thing?”
Hancock nods.
“Well, I can’t answer that. Whadda you think?”
Hancock shrugs. “I think I need some perspective. Easy to forget where you came from once you’ve got it good. I need to get out of town for a bit.”
Jack muses for a moment. “Look, you wanna help me sound cool and badass against the Brotherhood? I could absolutely use a speech or two; I got a memory like a steel trap for written words. JH would probably appreciate some help gettin’ me shipshape for that unpleasant confrontation I gotta go to a Railroad safehouse called Ticonderoga tomorrow to do some prep work. Meet me outside Diamond City tomorrow morning, and I’ll take you there. You talk with JH and decide if this is a side gig you wanna take on.”
Hancock thinks about the offer for a moment. “Alright. I’ll meet you outside of Diamond City.”
“Cool. Now there is one other thing I wanna talk about…”
//
Jack gets X9-27 settled in Goodneighbour while Nick helps Marty better hide Georgie’s tracks as the Silver Shroud. It takes them most of the day doing their respective tasks, but in the end, Marty can better handle the bullshit he needs to spin to keep Georgie safe and Magnolia happy, and X9-27 doesn’t look quite so Institute murder bot-y. KL-E-0 happily gives some space above her shop for X9-27 to crash in, and no one in their right mind would try to get past her to get a look at the Courser.
Jack grabs food from a vendor and chats briefly with Magnolia about being back while he eats. He doesn’t have time for the whole story but promises to return another time to tell her. She gives him a nod and a warm smile that turns cold when she looks at Nick.
Maybe she knew the Courser he was before the transfer because he can’t think of another reason for that reaction. Magnolia wishes Jack good luck before leaving to prepare for her evening show at the Rail.
Jack and Nick head out of town once he's finished eating. The sun is setting as they pick their way through the ruins, and honestly, Jack is wiped right out from the day’s activities, but the Brotherhood waits for no man, so he’s got to make it back to Diamond City before he can crash.
The pillow at the Agency has never looked so inviting.
Jack awakes to another empty bed in the morning. He feels physically better this morning, but the fact that Nick keeps skipping out on staying with him is starting to hurt. Before, when Nick didn’t even need sleep, he’d lie in bed with Jack often so that Jack would wake with him near, even if he hadn’t spent the whole night in bed with him.
Now, Nick leaves at the earliest opportunity. Jack scrubs a hand over his face to keep the tears at bay, and when he feels less like crying, he rolls out of bed and gets dressed. He did remember to wind his watch before he crashed last night, so Jack checks the time.
A little after eight a.m.
Hancock and he agreed to meet around nine, so he doesn’t have too much time to talk with Garvey and Carrington before he leaves town. Jack shuffles over to grab some clean clothes from his dresser. One of these days, he will have to hit the Dugout Inn and do some laundry. Thankfully, all of it was done while he was incarcerated at the Institute. However, he doesn’t have many things that fit him well. He grabs his pack from under the bed and shoves some underwear, socks, and another shirt, just in case.
Jack must stay at least one night at Ticonderoga, so he needs to pack a few things for the road. With that done, he pulls his boots on and heads down the narrow stairs to get geared up his armoured vest, tool and weapon belts before heading around the cinderblock wall.
Nick is reviewing some notes at his desk, and Leslie hasn’t arrived yet.
Jack dumps his pack in the chair in front of Leslie’s desk and goes to the safe. When he was in Goodneighbour, he also visited Amari and grabbed his stash of caps out of her clinic. He gave her an abridged version of what happened in the Institute and told her that he would be at the Old Church in three days to talk with Desdemona along with Carrington and that if she wanted to hear the whole story, she should be there.
He had more money than he thought with Amari, so Jack has roughly 2500 caps. He takes 1500 out to give to Preston as promised for the Minutemen coffers and leaves the rest as an emergency fund for what he needs personally or for whatever else might come up, like repaying Ellie.
“What time did you want to leave?” Nick asks, setting his papers aside and watching Jack collect his caps.
“I gotta meet Hancock at nine at Sammy, but first, I need to see Preston.”
“Should I just meet you two out there, then?”
Jack closes the safe door and then looks at Nick in confusion. “Wait, what? I thought you’d stay here.”
“Why?”
“Don’t you have things to do here? Cases and stuff. I don’t need you to come with me. Hancock will watch my back to Ticon.”
“Oh.”
Jack sighs because that one word speaks volumes, even in Nick’s current state. “Look, you gotta try and make inroads in Diamond City again, and you can’t do that by followin’ me around. People need to see you around town doing what you used to and tryin’ out the things you couldn’t. If you’re worried about me going alone to meet Butch, I’ll have JH recall Z4-21 to Ticon and have him escort me.”
Nick nods. “I know you’re right, kid. Just…I don’t like you being out of my sight.”
Jack moves to where Nick is seated and kisses his cheek. It’s the first time since the change that Jack has tried anything remotely intimate with Nick.
“I’ll be fine. No Institute to snatch me up anymore.”
Nick grabs his arm to keep him close. “Don’t joke about that. That was the worst moment of my life.”
“I’m sorry. We can talk more when I’m back if you want.”
“Yeah…okay.”
Jack runs the back of his hand along the side of Nick’s face before he pulls away. He dumps the pouches of caps into his pack and closes the drawstring on the top. “If you wanna help a guy out, I need some water and rations for the road.”
Nick nods. “I’ll get some for you.”
“Appreciate it. I’ll be the Minutemen HQ.”
//
Jack offloads his caps on the table in the War Room while Preston and Davis watch.
“1500 caps as promised. Don’t go spending it all in one place,” he says.
“How did you manage to get so many?” Davis asks.
Jack shrugs. “I don’t know. Just through regular scrapping? I got paid for my work as a Railroad agent. A pittance, but I did. And you are supposed to loot everyone and everything you kill, as callous as that seems. You can find caps in the weirdest of places. Plus, weapons fetch a pretty decent price, either whole or as components.”
“We didn’t spend a lot of time killing people. Just creatures,” Preston says.
“That’s not a bad thing, Preston. You guys protect people; it isn’t always supposed to be about death.” Jack sighs. “But you’re going to have to get used to it. I’m sorry to have to do it to you lot, but needs must.”
“We’ll manage, General. You don’t need to worry about us,” Davis replies.
“I know. But it’s also okay not to be okay, yeah? I want to hear if things start goin’ sideways.”
Preston nods. “We’ll keep you informed.”
“Good. I’m gonna be gone for a couple of days to Ticon, but I’ll be back briefly. I gotta talk with JH about a good scaving spot that I think we can use as a base to stockpile supplies and people. If it works out that it has good communication with JH, I’d like to headquarter the Minutemen there until the Brotherhood are no more.”
“Not the Castle?” Preston asks, looking a little down.
“Oh, we’ll get there, but that place isn’t exactly fortifiable against vertibirds that the Brotherhood uses to airdrop troops. The other place will be because it’s underground. I hope the conflict won’t be too long, but I have a bad feeling it will be. We need a strong, defensible place that the Brotherhood cannot easily route. The Castle just ain’t it, but I promise that once the Brotherhood is dealt with, we will kick that mirelurk queen out of there.”
“Can we get a vertibird to help us do that?” Davis asks, eager for the imagined fight.
“Sure, we’ll definitely have to steal a few of those bad boys from the Brotherhood.”
“Yes! That’ll be awesome.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Captain,” Preston says, ever practical. “We haven’t won yet.”
Davis sighs. “Yes, sir.”
Jack smirks. “Also, we’ll need better radio tower coverage to communicate over longer distances. So, I need your scaving teams to collect radio dishes and electrical components from some of the prewar towers around the Wastes. We need to add at least one more dish to Diamond City’s and Goodneighbour’s towers and build towers down in Warwick and Abernathy farms. Any of the troops mechanically inclined?”
Preston and Davis look at one another, then shrug.
“Garrett,” Preston says, “But I don’t know if that translates to the electrical work you’re looking for.”
“Ask and find out. If not, I’ll see if I can get some help from the Institute. I would ask JH to help directly since he’s got the Gen 1 and 2s under his control, but somehow, I don’t think anyone around here will be comfortable with them wandering around town. But maybe some of the Gen 3s or the scientists themselves will be willing to help. I’d do it myself, but I just don’t have the time.”
“That’s understandable; we’ll ask around and let you know when you get back,” Davis replies.
“Excellent. One last thing, let Carrington know that I’ll be back tomorrow evening and that the next day, I want to head out to Railroad HQ.”
“Will do,” Preston says.
“Good. Thanks for the help.”
Preston and Davis smile. “Of course, General.”
When he exits the Minutemen headquarters, Nick is just climbing the stairs in the stands to the porch.
“Hey,” Jack says, setting his bag down the stairs, and Nick joins him.
“Myrna actually allowed me to buy supplies from her. I sorta figured she’d hate this body more.” Nick hands the supplies over. A few cans of purified water and some dried mutfruit and jerky wrapped in some newspaper.
“No kidding? She must be getting soft on you.”
“Doubt it.”
“Maybe the lack of holes threw her off.”
“It is a lot less drafty these days.”
Jack chuckles. “Most definitely. Thanks for gettin’ these.”
“Of course, kid.”
Jack still isn’t crazy about hearing Nick say that in his weird voice and inflection, but at least it doesn’t make him cringe as badly anymore.
“I’m off then,” Jack says, slinging the pack over his shoulder.
“Look out for yourself.”
“Don’t I always?”
Nick doesn’t reply as Jack heads off down the stairs.
//
Hancock is waiting for him at Sammy Swatter, cigarette hanging out of one corner of his mouth as he stares up at the Wall of the City.
As Jack approaches him, Hancock’s gaze filters down to Jack.
“Ready, freddy?” he asks.
Hancock gives the Wall one last look before he nods. “Lead on, brother.”
Jack will admit to being tired from trekking around yesterday, which doesn’t lend itself to his usual loquaciousness. He does whistle his Sousa tune, and it feels like a literal age since he last did that. He’s pretty sure he did it the day Garvey, Davis, MacCready, and he headed toward Sanctuary Hills and got caught up at the Switchboard, but he doesn’t really remember.
Hancock seems amused by his tune choice. Around the western bridge that crosses the Charles River, he finds a stick he uses as a conductor wand and waves it around like he’s directing Jack in a band. As they get to the other side of the bridge, Jack leads them further into Cambridge, alongside the ruins of the C.I.T. building.
It’s always a toss-up which way to go to Ticon and which bridge to cross, and while he doesn’t want to get too close to the police station that Nick said the Brotherhood was holed up at, he does want to see if they’ve set up any other stations in Cambridge. So once past the school ruins, Jack wanders on a vaguely diagonal path back down toward Ticon, looking for any signs of looting or other barricades.
There is nothing evident except a few places where he can see that a power armour boot has left an impression in some mud. Pretty innocuous to most, but Jack can infer that they’ve been around Cambridge scouting and scaving. They probably go to Bunker Hill if they want any actual supplies. He’ll definitely be interested in hearing what Z4-21 has to report on their activities in Cambridge, and doubly so for whatever Butch has to say once they get their other issues settled.
Jack’s meandering added an extra half hour on the already a couple-hour walk, but it had a purpose, and while he does need a short break to eat and drink some water, the day is sunny and warm, so it’s not too much of a burden to spend more time outdoors. Hancock isn’t in any rush and seems content to let Jack set the pace. They talk idly between Jack’s whistling about the surroundings, and Hancock points out the same bootprints that Jack’s been seeing. Hancock understands that serious conversations are for spaces away from possibly prying eyes.
Jack circles Ticon’s block once just to make sure there aren’t any people around the building that he should worry about, but he’s less concerned about giving the location away now that the Institute isn’t ready to rain death down on them all.
He gives the camera at the door a little wave, uncertain if it’s JH or someone else in Ticon watching the feed, but the door unlocks all the same, and Jack leads Hancock into the tower’s foyer.
The elevator is still creaky as it ascends but makes it to the safehouse main floor in one piece so Jack doesn’t fault it too much. When the doors open, High Rise awaits him, along with Parade and Rave. Jack doesn’t immediately step out of the car, and the group stares momentarily at one another.
“Rave?” Jack says, genuinely shocked to see her alive. He thought that no one had survived Augusta getting purged.
“Deacon?” she replies, nearly as shocked as he is.
“Dee?” High Rise says cautiously. “Henry said you were at the door, but…”
That manages to kickstart Jack’s brain, and he steps out of the car. “I mean, it’s not like I haven’t had a face change before.”
The three agents stare at Jack, and he gives them a small smile. Then Rave moves forward and claws him into a hug.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “I should’ve listened to you. I…I…” her voice cracks.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Jack hugs her, stroking the edges of her hair where it’s lying against her back. He can almost feel the radiation she’s putting off. Rave has edged a lot closer to the Glowing One aesthetic since the last time he saw her, which has to be a good year or so.
“It’s not. Oh Atom, is so not.”
He can hear the tears in her voice, and she grips him tighter. He knows the kind of guilt that is eating her up right now, and there is nothing anyone can do to help her deal with it.
“Rave, darling,” Parade says, edging back a little. “You need to calm down a bit. You’re starting to put out rads again.”
“Oh shit. Sorry,” Rave says and pulls back from Jack. She scrubs the heel of her hand over her eyes.
“I, for one, enjoyed the glow,” Hancock says. He’s perched near the elevator doors.
“And I don’t get radiation sickness, so a few rads don’t bother me,” Jack adds, rubbing Rave’s arms. She’s covered her skin thoroughly, maybe because she wants the barrier between her and the others, but the thin skin around her eyes, neck, mouth, and ears has taken on that radiation glow.
“It didn’t use to be this bad,” she says, self-conscious. “But after Augusta…I had to hole up in a radiation-rich graveyard to recover, and it made the whole thing so much worse. Atom’s punishment, I suppose.”
“Or blessing,” Hancock says.
Rave doesn’t say anything to refute that, but her body language says she doesn’t believe that. “I guess we’ve both got a new look,” she says instead, gesturing to Jack.
“Not really new, just…an old favourite.”
There are clear sounds of footsteps on the ramp at the far end of the room, and Uncle, Jolene, and Callie appear on the main level then. Maybe they heard the conversation and came up to investigate, or JH told them to come up. Codsworth appears from the kitchen, too, the smell of cooking food wafting through the main level.
“Henry told us this was the real one,” Parade says.
“A little older than the last time I saw it in the mirror, but yeah,” Jack confirms.
“And oldie but a goodie,” Uncle says as he drags Jack into a hug.
“You shoulda told us you were good lookin’ buddy, then we could’ve judged the other faces accordingly,” High Rise says and holds out a hand for Jack to shake once Uncle lets him go. Jack grips it hard and then yanks High Rise into a hug.
“Stop, you’ll make me blush. But honestly, I’ve had better.”
“No. You haven’t,” Parade says and pulls High Rise back so she can hug Jack. “We’re so glad you’re alive. Jolene wasn’t super optimistic about your odds.”
“Sorry,” Jolene immediately says, hovering at Parade’s shoulder. “I should’ve had more faith.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jack replies, pulling back and grabbing Jolene and Callie for a hug. “Frankly, I’m surprised myself.”
“That bad?” High Rise asks.
“Worse even than that, HR. But hey, I made it out, and things are movin’ quick these days. We all gotta talk, but if you don’t mind, Hancock here—” Jack detaches himself from Callie and Jolene to gesture behind him where Hancock has been observing “—has made the trip special to talk with JH.”
Jack then pats the side of Codsworth’s frame as the Handy’s eye stocks flutter upward in the proximity of a smile. “Master Bertrum,” Codsworth says sotto.
“And what does the Mayor of Goodneighbour need to talk about?” JH asks, voice coming from the ceiling. Jack kind of misses JH being a physical presence next to him.
Hancock’s eyes glance upwards, eventually landing on one of the cameras facing the elevator. “Thinkin’ about volunteering to be head of public relations for the Lone Wanderer, but he figured I should talk with his agent first. Hear, that’s you.”
“I didn’t use those words, JH, but…it’s not entirely an inaccurate way to look at it,” Jack adds.
JH chuckles slightly. “Well, then step into my office, Mayor.”
Jack leads Hancock up the stairs to his old room, which has long since become JH’s hive center. Back downstairs, High Rise has gathered all the agents and Codsworth around Callie’s floral display in the living room, and Jack settles on the couch furthest from the windows. He’ll probably never be okay with Ticon’s height, no matter how much this place feels like a second home.
“So, what did JH tell you guys?” Jack asks.
The group looks at one another before High Rise says, “A hell of a story that basically sums up to you and him runnin’ the Institute.”
“More or less, yeah. That’s the gist. Um…anything else?” If JH didn't tell them, Jack is unsure how to broach the “Lone Wanderer” thing. Hancock said the words earlier, and there wasn’t a lot of reaction from any of them, but not everyone knows the story.
Parade raises an eyebrow. “We did get the spiel about you being someone called the Lone Wanderer from the Capital Wasteland.”
“And that you’re the one the Institute always classified as ‘Priority Target: Alpha,’” Jolene adds.
“But frankly, man, none of us really had much to do with any of the safehouses in the Capital. So…” High Rise shrugs.
Jack feels a mix of relief and ego bruising. They don’t know who he is. Huh.
“Do you prefer Jack? Or is it still Deacon?” Uncle asks.
“It’s not still Deacon,” Jack says. “Not that I won’t respond if you want to use it; it was my name for a long time. But Deacon was me hiding, and I’m not doing that anymore. Not with the Brotherhood coming.”
“Does this mean that we’ll finally get the real story of your code name?” Parade asks, grinning at him.
Jack looks at the agents around him, his makeshift family and feels fierce protection and loyalty for them all. “If you’d like. Yeah. But it’s pretty boring, honestly. The made-up ones are way better.”
“Yeah, but they aren’t really you,” Callie says. “Can we finally see behind the curtain, Oh Great Oz?”
Parade whistles a few bars of ‘If I Only Had a Brain,’ and the group laughs.
“Okay,” Jack says. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“There’s no judgment here, man,” High Rise says. “You know that.”
Jack gives him a small smile. “When I was a kid, in the vault, my dad had this worn embroidery piece that he cherished that my mom had made some time before I was born. I never knew her; she died in labour. Anyways, the embroidery was a quote from the Bible: ‘I am the Alpha and the Omega; the beginning and the end.’
“No idea why she liked that quote so much, but my dad liked to use it to showcase how the vault was the beginning and the end. You were born in the vault, and you died in the vault… A load of shit, but I was young and still had faith in him, in a higher power, in the vault.
“When I left the Capital and came to the Commonwealth, I lost faith, and I wanted to hide and leave everything that I had done wrong behind me in the Capital. When I was asked to pick my code name, it took me some time to think of something. I was using a fake name then anyway, but picking a code name was much more permanent. It was me shedding Jack, shedding the Lone Wanderer, and trying to be someone else. Someone better.
“For the first time in a long time, I thought of that quote and figured that maybe I should stick with the family tradition and go with some obscure theme from the Bible. I picked Deacon because of the obvious religious connotations but also because deacon means servant in Greek. A reminder to follow and not lead. I didn’t want what I did wrong in the Capital to play out in the Commonwealth.”
There’s a heavy silence among the group, and after a moment or two, Parade starts with an aborted “Dee…” before she trails off.
“I did warn you; it wasn’t that great.”
“Sounds like you’ve been carryin’ around too much guilt, man,” High Rise says. “You can’t have been the sole cause of every bad thing that ever went wrong in the Capital. That just ain’t you.”
“You’ve saved our butts how many times?” Uncle says. “Bad people don’t do that.”
“Indeed,” Codsworth adds.
“Well, I didn’t say I was bad. Cursed more like it, but I’m doin’ my best to move forward. No masks, no lies. Just…survival until the Brotherhood is gone.”
“Henry didn’t make them out to be all that good,” Jolene says. “How are we going to stop them from invading?”
“We aren’t. It’s too late now. The Institute brought them here, and we can’t stop the Brotherhood from looking for them. We can only try to stop them from gaining a foothold and push them back before they get entrenched and have the resources brought out here to wage a long-term war, but even that is a tall order.” Jack sighs. “The remnants of the Minutemen, the Railroad and the Institute is all we’ve got, and I’m trying with the Minutemen and the Institute to get them built into a force to meet the Brotherhood head-on, but I need the Railroad’s help.”
“And what kind of help do you need?” Rave asks.
“Well, we’ve never been a fight-out-in-the-open group. We’re an in-the-shadows, underground, dead-drop and dead-of-night kind of group. We’re gonna need that expertise to interrupt Brotherhood operations.”
“It’s one thing to fight the Institute; we’ve all got our reasons for that battle, but the Brotherhood has never done anything to us. It’s asking a lot to pivot like this,” Callie says.
“I know. And I am 100 percent asking for your help, not tellin’ you. But as is, the Railroad is done. There is no reason left to exist. The Institute, as it was, is gone. The synths there are staying for now, but they all know they’re free to leave anytime. JH and I are ensuring that no other hardships befall them from the scientists and that any operations they had in the Commonwealth have ceased.
“Any synths left in the care of safehouses will obviously be helped to a new life if that’s what they want, but the goal has been achieved. The boogeyman is dead. So, there is no reason to be here anymore, and funds will become scarce once the message is out that the Institute is done.
“But the Commonwealth still needs our help. I need your help, and I will make the same request for those left in the Old Church and our other safehouses that are still intact. I gave this option to the Minutemen: you can leave, and I won’t hold it against you, or you can stay. But if you stay, you’re in it for the long haul.”
“That’s…a lot to ask Dee. Gonna need some time to think about it,” High Rise says, and the other agents nod.
“I don’t,” Rave says. “I know the Brotherhood hates ghouls; they’d kill me as soon as look at me. And even if they didn’t, I’ve learned my lesson. If Dee—Jack says the Brotherhood is dangerous, they are. No questions asked.” Rave turns to him. “I’m with you.”
“Thanks, Rave, that means a lot.”
She gives a brief nod and then looks at the agents assembled.
“Consider: you all owe a debt to Jack for one reason or another. He’s been one of the Railroad’s best agents, not because he’s got a sharp knife or a sharp wit but because he put us first. He always lent a hand, even when it meant walking into a battle that most heavies don’t come back from. If you walk away from this fight, you walk away with that on your conscience.”
A few agents look down and away at her words, but it’s still a tall order no matter what anyone says.
Rave stands then, and before she leaves the gathering, she turns to Jack. “We’ve had runners from the few intact safehouses that survived the Institute purge. I’ll go and speak to the agents and report back to Henry.”
“I appreciate the initiative, Rave, but you don’t have to do that.”
“Somebody has to, and let’s be frank, you aren’t going to have the time. Besides, having something to occupy my time will…help.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“Save the thanks for when we have real bodies to fight this battle.”
//
It’s basically time for him to head out to the meet-up location for Butch when they’ve finished talking. Jack tells High Rise to let Hancock know he’s gone out to meet a contact and that he’s free to travel back alone or wait for Jack and travel tomorrow.
Down in the lobby, Jack finds a Courser waiting for him as he exits the elevator. He pauses momentarily to get a good look at the synth to ensure he doesn’t get his designation wrong. It’s Z4-21.
“Hey pal,” Jack says and rolls up beside him.
“Director,” Z4 greets. “Henry requested that I accompany you to meet your Brotherhood informant.”
“Oh? Look like me and him are on the same brain wave, then. Would be good if you knew what he looks like, just in case.”
Z4 nods, and Jack leads him into the Cambridge ruins.
The place Jack picked for the meet-up, an old plumber shop, is a standard Railroad meet-up to keep agents out of sight for package transfers and intel dumps that are potentially too sensitive for a holotape. He doesn’t think it’s ever been frequently used; Jack’s only been there once before, but it's far enough away from the feral nests that it is relatively unmolested but close enough to a main route to keep it from being too inconvenient.
The meeting isn’t for an hour or so, but that should be enough time to get there and scout the local in case anything nasty has made its lair in the intervening months. Plus, it allows him to hear Z4-21’s report about his initial findings.
Z4 tells Jack the recon team's numbers: four Brotherhood soldiers and one woman who is not a member but is clearly aiding them. They have fortified the police station fairly well and had night watch patrols around the building.
Z4-21 has also dialled into their radio chatter through a ham radio in an old veteran office that had previously been home to a few super mutants that the Brotherhood had cleared out at one point.
Their leader was a Paladin by the name of Danse, the associated woman was McCoy, and the others were Scribe Halen and Knights Rhys and Knight-Sargent De’Loria.
“That’s my contact,” Jack says. “Butch and I grew up together in the vault.”
Z4 nods. “I sense there is discord among the members from the undertone of some of the messages, but nothing overt.”
Z4-21 also says that while he cannot pick up the transmissions from the incoming Brotherhood troops due to the range of the ham radio, he can hear the outgoing messages. He expects they will land in the Commonwealth in the next day or so.
No chance to catch their breath, then. Damn. Jack wishes he had more time to cobble together a defence. The Brotherhood will have the opportunity to be entrenched before they can get the numbers to fight them.
“It’s more important than ever to get in good with Abernathy Farm,” Jack says. “I’m going to have to get over there and talk with them.”
“Z2-47 has spent time there in the past. He may have some insight.”
“Is there a replacement over there?”
“No.”
“Then why would he spend time over there?”
Z4 gives Jack an unreadable look from behind his sunglasses and says nothing further. Loyalty to each other first, even though they have deference for Jack. Well, he can’t blame them for being wary. He’ll just have to talk with Z2 and see if he can figure out what’s going on.
When they arrive at the old warehouse, Jack and Z4-21 scout around the building, looking for anything off or ferals hanging around. There are neither, so Jack pauses for a moment at the railsign. It looks a little faded, but given that it's still clearly legible, it means it was painted with Tinker Tom’s updated paint formula.
They probably had this place checked over shortly before the Switchboard fell.
“A purposeful mark?” Z4 asks, coming to stand beside Jack.
“Yeah. This one means an ally is near.”
“You used these frequently?”
“Me personally or the Railroad? Yes, to both. It’s how we noted important things for other agents.” Jack turns to Z4. “Wait, are you telling me you guys never put two and two together?”
“Graffiti was not high on the priority list.”
Jack snorts. “I mean, I guess that makes sense, but how did you suppose we talked to each other?”
“Low-level radio communications that could not be picked up.”
“Oh man, I wish, pal.”
As they move to the entrance door, Z4-21 steps in front of Jack and takes point on their entrance. He does not want Jack to be caught in any crossfire if the building is occupied. Jack nods in agreement since there’s no point in arguing and follows Z4 in.
Inside the building, it is quiet. There are no apparent signs of anyone living in the place as they walk around, and more importantly, no stench of ferals. They make a circle through, weapons ready, but the building is empty.
Z4-21 notes the power armour boot prints in the dust, and Jack nods. He noticed them as well. Probably Butch checking the place out, but Jack and Z4 decide that Z4-21 will hide under a stealth boy field until they’re confident that Butch has come alone.
“There is one more thing, Z4,” Jack says as he sets up at the small meeting area, offloading his plasma pistol and knife. “Butch has a good reason to be pissed off at me, and he’s going to take a swing. Don’t attack when that happens. He gets one hit. If he tries more than that, well, I’d appreciate some help, but…” Jack sighs. “The least I can do is let him get a good punch in.”
“That seems unwise, Director.”
“Yeah, I don’t disagree, but sometimes you gotta do those kind of things in service to the bigger picture. Butch is in with the Brotherhood. If I alienate him now after he’s reached out, it would severely hamper our ability to keep tabs on the Brotherhood. I can take a one hit in service to that.”
Z4 frowns slightly, but he drops the issue. “One hit,” he agrees.
“Appreciate it.”
Jack sits in one of the chairs and props his boots on a nearby crate. Now, all that’s left is waiting. Z4-21 finds a spot slightly obscured from the sightlines around the table and stands at parade rest, waiting for the moment to activate his stealth boy and observe. Jack checks his pocket watch about five minutes before their meeting time. He tucks the watch away and folds his arms, settling back in the chair.
He’d like to take the time to doze and let his mind wander, but Jack has a million things he needs to do and no time to do them. The Brotherhood is at their doorstep, and he still needs to talk with High Rise about the Railroad HQ, talk with JH about scouting out the RobCo Service Center as a reliable base for the Minutemen, get to the Abernathy and Warwick farms, get back down in the Institute to check on the idiot scientists, make sure he’s around for Glory’s revival, and somehow coordinate three disparate groups into one war effort in whatever minuscule free time he was left.
There are basically no caps, food, weapons, experience, or hope. He has no idea how it will all work, even with help.
After an unknown amount of existential dread, Jack rechecks his watch. It’s now ten minutes after 2 p.m., and that makes Butch late. He hopes nothing has gone wrong. There are a few minutes more of silence.
“I hear the approach of a suit of power armour,” Z4 says quietly, disturbing their silence.
“One?”
“One.”
Jack nods, and it doesn’t take much longer for him to hear the noise coming from the street outside the warehouse. His heart rate picks up. Jack hasn’t really had the opportunity to think about what this meeting might look like beyond Butch’s promise to hit him. He has no idea what he’s going to say to Butch or what Butch might say in return. Does he really believe in the Brotherhood’s bullshit? Jack doesn’t think that they suit Butch’s general distaste for authority figures, but fuck, it’s been years since the last time they even spoke to one another, and he doesn’t know if the intervening years have changed Butch.
Jack feels like a totally different person than the one he was when he left the Capital Wasteland. Had Butch changed just as much?
The warehouse door opens, and the tell-tale sound of a power amour frame squeezing through a door too small for it reaches Jack’s ears. He remembers what that was like. When the armour is inside, he hears the hiss of depressurization, and the hydraulics lift the suit’s back apart so its occupant can exit.
Jack turns to where Z4 is stationed but can’t see the Courser. Well, that answers that question.
He’s torn between staying seated and standing up to face Butch. Which would be better? Jack takes his sunglasses off when he remembers he still has them on, and as he hears Butch’s boots on the old wooden floor, he decides at the last moment to stand.
When Butch appears around the door that separates the two halves of the warehouse, he stops when he sees Jack.
They silently stare at one another from across the room for a few moments, then Butch slowly moves forward.
The thing that strikes Jack immediately is how grown-up and settled Butch looks. The last time he saw Butch was when he left the Pitt after those hard few months where they barely survived. Both he and Butch were haggard and rough looking. Too thin, too tired, and too hungry from too much time fighting against their enslavement and against the fucked-up structure of the Pitt.
This Butch is someone who has come into his own. He’s not a scared vault kid, barely twenty anymore; he looks confident and secure.
“Butch,” Jack says when Butch crosses space to stand in front of him.
“Jack. Long time no see.”
“Yeah, been a while, huh? You look good.”
Butch snorts. “Not hard to look better than that shit, but yeah. Same to you. Especially considerin’ where you’ve been. Your bot toy, and pal MacCready didn’t seem confident you’d make it back in one piece.”
Jack frowns at the use of “bot toy” but decides against commenting. “It was not a good experience, but I’m here now.”
Butch looks away slightly at Jack’s dead tone, like he’s remembering a similar pain.
“Nick prepared me for this meeting somewhat,” Jack says, unbuttoning his steel-plated vest. “For the sake of your hand and my jaw, I’d prefer a gut punch.”
“It ain’t about what you want. Kind of defeats the purpose.”
“Then knee me in the balls.”
Butch makes a noise of disgust. “That’s too low. That’s the kind of shit you save for a fight to death.”
“Hard to believe you’re passing up the opportunity,” Jack replies, setting his vest down. He holds his arms out to show he’s ready.
“You’re a selfish dickhead, Jack, but I don’t hate you. I don’t got time for that kiddy bullshit anymore.”
Butch closes the distance with sure steps and raises his left fist like he’s decided to cold cock Jack in his face anyways, never mind breaking his hand. Jack flinches because, as nonchalant as he’s trying to be, he doesn’t want bodily harm to happen to his person. But Butch faints him with his left and goes for a gut punch with his right so that Jack wouldn’t have the wherewithal to brace for the impact.
He hits Jack hard enough to force all the air out of his lungs. Jack crumples down around himself, barely managing to stay on his knees, with one hand clumsily bracing himself on the ground and the other cradling his stomach. Butch managed to hit him in the solar plexus and cause his diaphragm to spasm, keeping him from drawing in any air for a few panicky seconds.
And even though he knows what’s happened and that it will pass his lizard brain can only fail with the certainty that he’ll never breathe again.
Until he does.
Jack gulps air down once his diaphragm remembers how to function, and the pain hits him all over again now that he can breathe. Jack rolls forward onto hands and knees, coughing a little and breathing a few ragged breaths as pain radiates along his belly.
He doesn’t look up again until Z4-21’s hand appears before his face. After a brief moment of indecision, Jack takes the proffered hand to help him stand.
“Your fuckin’ bot scared the shit out of me,” Butch grumbles from where he’s moved back to.
“Do you have a stimpak, Director?” Z4 asks.
Jack nods, not trusting his voice, and digs one out of his tool belt. He injects half of the stimpak into his arm and the other half into the bruised flesh of his abdomen. It washes the most pain back, but the edges of it linger in the background.
“Thanks, Z4,” Jack says, tucking the spent vial back into his pouch.
The Courser nods and steps back behind Jack, close enough to be at hand but far enough back that Butch deems it safe to move closer to Jack again. However, he’s watching Z4 warily for signs he might decide to attack.
“Let’s take a seat,” Jack says and turns to pick up his vest from the floor. “We’re probably gonna be here a while.”
It takes a few hours for Butch to brief Jack on everything that he knows the Brotherhood is up to and their reasons for being the in the Commonwealth. Jack informs Butch about the Institute situation, JH, the Minutemen, and Railroad and what progress they’re making in building a resistance.
Butch tells Jack that the Prydwen will be arriving any day now and then goes into Danse’s synth issues with their popsicle and all that drama. Jack has a sinking feeling when Butch talks about Nora McCoy.
“Did she say what vault she was from?” Jack asks.
“Not to me. Probably told Danse, though. Why?”
“A few years ago, I found a vault north of here that had a bunch of cryogenically frozen people that had died when the system keeping them alive failed. However, there was one sole survivor among the group. I couldn’t release her because it required offsite access, but there was a countdown to a release date that wasn’t too far off.”
“Like around now?”
Jack shakes his head. “No. Like a year from now, so someone hit the release early—if it’s the same woman.”
“Well, how many vaults around here still have people in them?”
“I only know of Vault 81. I think it was a control vault like ours was, but they allow limited trading with the Commonwealth.”
Unlike ours is implied at the end of that sentence.
“So, probably is her. Sole Survivor of her vault.”
Jack smirks slightly to himself. It seems like the name will stick after all.
“She talks about being around before the war, so how the hell can she tell Danse what to do like he’s some fuckin’ Handy? Those synths are new inventions, right?”
“Yeah. In the last 60 years or so.” Jack turns to Z4. “Are there any synths assigned to monitor the Brotherhood?”
“There is one high-level Scribe. J5-78. However, it has been nearly a year since contact has been established. The unit was believed to be either discovered or killed in action on a Brotherhood mission. We do not have any units within the soldier ranks.”
Butch nods. “That tracks. Danse didn’t know he was a synth until this whole fuckin’ thing with McCoy.”
“Probably an escapee that the Railroad performed a memory wipe on then.” Jack leans back in his chair. “McCoy was the name of the last Institute Director, too. He also could control the synths like your popsicle does. Maybe he’s a descendant of hers? Like a great, great, great nephew or something. The control has to do with shared DNA from the old Director to the Gen 3 synths that the Institute reinforced with programming. If she shares that DNA, it would explain her control over Danse.”
“Okay…but how would Danse know that? You said he got his memory wiped. How would he know she was an ancestor of the old Director? When we met her, she was in a suit of power armour. We didn’t even get a look at her face until she was back at camp, and Danse was following her orders the moment she showed up.”
Jack can hear the supreme frustration in Butch’s voice; he’s already been treated to an expletive-ridden venting session about how Nora McCoy has been fucking things up for their recon team, and somehow, Jack knows it’s only the tip of the iceberg.
“Director, I may have an explanation,” Z4-21 says.
“I’m all ears, pal. What’re we missing here?”
“The programming you mentioned is based on voice pattern recognition so that even if we are memory wiped by Institute or the Railroad, that core programming allows us to still recognize and obey Father. Family members often sound similar and have the same cadence and patterns in speech.”
Jack considers. Butch goes for the apparent glaring inconsistency.
“Sure, if you lived and grew up together. Jack and I have similar speech patterns because we lived together for nineteen years, but we ain’t family. And if the popsicle is an ancestor, they are way far removed from each other for the patterns to be the same or even sound the same. Plus, being Pre-War, she uses phrases and words that don’t even exist anymore.”
Z4-21 doesn’t offer a rebuttal, but Jack isn’t ready to write the idea off, even though Butch is entirely correct in his assessment. There is something glaringly obvious they’re missing here.
“It’s not complete,” Jack muses, thinking aloud. “Not like the Director’s control. He told Nick to hurt me, and Nick had to, but you talked Danse into letting you out of the cell. She can’t control the synths the same way.”
“Yeah, but it’s enough, and any synths you’ve got on your side are now a liability until we can neutralize her. And once the Prydwen is here, that’s gonna be a tall fucking order. Her and Maxson will get on like a fucking bellows and forge fire.”
Jack nods in agreement. It’s something he’s going to have to discuss with JH. Butch looks at his Pipboy.
“It’s getting’ late. I gotta go before all hell breaks loose at the police station and I’m accused of going AWOL. Especially when I don’t got nothin’ to show for it.”
“Yeah. Probably a good idea.” Jack checks his pocket watch. It’s nearly six.
“Maxon has yours, ya know,” Butch says, pointing at the pocket watch.
“Pipboy?”
Butch nods.
“Not ideal. Could really use it these days.”
“Gonna have to pick it from his corpse,” Butch replies. “He’s also got the repeater you took from the Mall.”
Jack frowns. “I gave that to Hannibal Hamlin.”
“Maxon confiscated it when they took over the Memorial. They have a lot of your old items spread out among the upper echelons. Took a lot of things from Megaton.”
Jack starts to get angry. “I left that house to Bryan Wilks.”
“And? There is no honour left among the Brotherhood. They don’t care about shit like that. They take and take, and now there’s precious little left to plunder in the Capital. They have the guns and the power armour, and they have gathered what they can of the Lone Wanderer to ward against your return. As if holding on to your stuff will keep you from going bump in the night.”
Jack deflates somewhat and looks away, thinking of how little strength there is in their position in the Commonwealth. “I don’t think I can live up to that mythos.”
“You fuckin’ better,” Butch says, striking the tabletop to get Jack to look at him. “You put the fear of God into them once, and together we’re a fucking pantheon. We put the Pitts to rights as too pissant vault kids who started as slaves. We’re older and wiser now. Before this is over, we will burn this Brotherhood to the ground. So, get it together, Jack. Find that Lone Wanderer rage so we can build a forge out of it. I ain’t acceptin’ anythin’ less.”
He spent so long running from everything the Lone Wanderer represented, from that anger that drove him to the brink of insanity. Is that what this campaign is going to need? Can he afford to be that person again? Can he afford to not be? The Lone Wanderer has made a few appearances since the Institute, but Jack always tries to reign him back in. Maybe that’s enough? Just when he needs it?
“We’ll get it done, Butch. One way or another.”
Butch doesn’t seem to entirely agree with that statement since it isn’t the affirmation he was looking for, but he nods and then stands from the table.
“You got a frequency for communicatin’?”
“I told JH the frequency for my old Pipboy, but if Maxson has it, we’ll have to find another one. Let me talk with him, and I’ll have him forward details to your Pipboy.”
“Alright. Later,” Butch says and then heads back out to his power armour.
Jack and Z4-21 wait for Butch to leave and then for about ten minutes more before they head out themselves.
The sun is getting low on the horizon, but it is still light enough to travel back when they start for Ticon. The road is quiet, and Jack mulls over the things that Butch told him, but he keeps circling back to the comment about the Lone Wanderer’s rage.
In Ticon’s lobby, Jack ensures that Z4-21 sets up a safe forward station for him to return to. He thanks him for the escort and his restraint with Butch.
“I still gotta talk with High Rise about Ticon being the new Railroad HQ, and in that convo, you’re included in that deal. I’m hopin’ that you’ll help them with intelligence in this area.”
“Of course, Director.”
“Thank you, Z4. Really. I couldn’t have done it without the Coursers, and I really appreciate you following me in this transition.”
“X6-88 informed us of his discussion with Kellogg. It was the only logical step.”
Jack smiles slightly. “All the same, pal. Thanks.”
Z4 nods and then heads out of the lobby. Jack heads to the elevator.
Back in Ticon’s interior, Jack dumps his gear in the transitional agent room and heads down to the kitchen for some of the left-over dinner that Codsworth made. The Handy quickly reheats it for him with his flame thrower set on a low setting and puts it in a cold bowl so that Jack won’t burn his hands.
“Thanks, Jeeves,” Jack says as he takes the food and the cold Nuka Cola Codsworth handed him.
“Certainly. Is it alright to still call you Master Bertrum?” Codsworth asks.
“Of course, pal. You’re Jeeves, I’m Wooster. No need to change it.”
“Glad to hear it, Sir.”
It’s sometime after eight p.m., and while most agents aren’t yet sleeping, they are all dispersed to their various hobbies and work areas for the evening. Uncle is reading a book in the common area and greets Jack when he gets back, but he’s absorbed in his reading, and Jack doesn’t want to bother him. So, he heads upstairs to JH’s room so they can talk about everything Butch told him.
In the low light of the room, with the hum of the cobbled-together server towers, Jack sits at the desk with the terminal that started it all and eats the rewarmed stew that Codsworth provided.
“How did things go with Butch?” JH asks when Jack is settled.
“Good. I let him punch me, and then we talked about the Brotherhood and what we were trying to do on our end. We’ve got a couple problems, though.”
“Oh?”
Jack cracks his Nuka Cola open on the edge of the desk and tells JH about Nora McCoy, the vault dweller from the past, and the giant airship the Brotherhood built using the steel they stole from the Pitt.
“They’ll be able to bring more troops and vertibirds than anticipated with that airship. It’ll allow them to get established with greater efficiency. This is a problem.”
“Yeah, and here we are, with a fraction of the troops and resources.” Jack pinches his temples and sighs. “And with Nora McCoy, they can effectively negate any advantage we have with the Gen 3 synths and Coursers. I can’t send them to fight knowing she could turn them right around against us, but I don’t see how we can win without them.”
“I’ll speak to Madison more about the control measures the Institute programmed into the synths. There isn’t much information on the servers here about the former Director’s control, so it’s likely that any notes are either stored on drives that are outdated or archived on paper. There should be a way to neutralize her control, especially since it is not as strong as the former Director’s.”
“Alright. Let’s hope there’s something. How’s things going down there?”
JH chuckles slightly. “Bioscience is attempting to instigate a coup. However, it is currently being ignored by the other departments. If it worsens, I will Relay you back so we can deal with it. However, at the moment, it is not pressing enough. You’re needed on the Surface much more urgently.”
“Great,” Jack mutters with no little sarcasm. He knew that department would be trouble.
“Scaving missions have been largely successful, and Doctor Filmore is optimistic about the timeline for her secondary steam loop and turbine construction. Once that is complete, we will acquire the beryllium agitator. For now, its location is inaccessible by regular scavers; however, I am monitoring the location to ensure its continued safety. If that changes, we will have to go in.”
Jack nods. They have so many other things to do that it would be ideal if the agitator could wait for extraction. “Gen 2 production?”
“Running as best as it can. Glory’s new body is taking most of the allotted energy that Robotics is currently allowed, which is considerably slowing Gen 2 production. That body is approximately 65% complete. However, that bottleneck is allowing us to build a stockpile of materials. I am keeping Relay points from being used multiple times to prevent easy tracking by the Brotherhood, but that is also slowing production.”
“I want to be there when Glory wakes. Weapons?”
“Of course, I will make sure you have notice to get back. Advanced Systems has started production of laser weapons for the Gen 2s, and I have provided Rosalind Ormand with old Enclave schematics for Gauss rifles and plasma weapons that I held onto. She was delighted. With her genius, we will have superior weaponry to the Brotherhood.”
“Okay, but is that going to be scalable? We need weapons for everyone, not just a few special cases.”
“The special cases will outfit our main shock troops: the Coursers, the Minutemen you deem front line worthy, Railroad heavies, and Gen 3s willing to fight. The Institute can already mass produce their laser weapons, which are already superior to Prewar versions found throughout the Wastes. That makes them comparable to what the Brotherhood has undoubtedly made for themselves.”
“Well, there’s that at least. Good.”
“Our edge will come from the shock troops, so they need the superior weapons. When you’re down next, you should allow Rosalind to look over your weapon so it can be upgraded when the time comes.”
“Sure,” Jack shrugs, “but plasma is already pretty much top of the line in destruction.”
“Only because you have an Enclave plasma pistol. The prewar variety was not that powerful. With the Institute’s technology, it will be better yet.”
“Alright. I’ll stop by. How’s Charlie Fallon?”
“Eager to provide better protection for you, Nick, and the rest of the Gen 3s wanting to fight. He has been happily working on better gear for you.”
Jack frowns. That isn’t really what he wanted to hear.
“You cannot make him want to return home,” JH says, reading Jack’s expression.
“No, but…I just wish he didn’t have to suffer through the Institute’s torture.”
“We can coax him back to the Surface in time. Has Betty been told?”
Jack shakes his head. “I haven’t had the time and didn’t want it to come from anyone else.”
“When you do, X6-88 can Relay her back here.”
“I’d hate to throw her into that all by herself. I should go with her.”
“You don’t have time for that. If she’s as strong a woman as you and Charlie say, she can handle the experience for Charlie’s sake.”
Jack knows JH is right; he just feels shitty leaving her to deal with that alone with a group of strangers.
“It’s getting late,” JH says. “You have lots of things to do tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I do. But before I go to bed, we gotta talk about a base for the Minutemen. They can’t stay in Diamond City. It will make the city a target, and it’s just not optimal to run a war operation out of it.”
“The Castle is no longer a viable stronghold. Not with an airship and vertibirds.”
“Yeah, I know. I went to the old RobCo Service Center a few years ago to find some replacement computer parts for Piper and stuff to build the radio tower here. Below that place is either a massive Government DIA research center or old Robert House built a secret research facility on his own dime.”
“Oh?” JH says interested.
“Yeah. It’s got some major bunker-like protections and digital security. Fortunately for me, they were based on government security protocols that I knew a few flaws for, but with you running security down there…”
“I’d certainly keep the armature fumbling of the Brotherhood away from you,” JH replies.
“Exactly. But I don’t know how accessible it is for you. I mean, it must have had some sort of external means of communication, but I’m going to have to go down there and find out.”
“I should still be able to access the servers at the Switchboard. I’ll see if there is any information about this place there.”
“Good idea. Give me a week to get the Railroad resettled here, and then I’ll go to the Service Center with a team and find out how viable it is as a base of operations.”
“If it turns out well and I can access the servers there, moving the Railroad there with the Minutemen may be prudent. This tower is as much a target as the Castle would’ve been.”
Jack nods. “I know. But one problem at a time. How did things go with Hancock?”
“He certainly has a…flair for the dramatic.”
Jack laughs. “Yeah, that’s an understatement.”
“He had some good ideas for building on the legend the Brotherhood has built up for the Lone Wanderer. I told him more stories from your time in the Capital, and he said he’d devise plans to play into the fear of the Outcast Incident.”
“…Okay,” Jack says quietly. He doesn’t know how to feel about that.
“Something the matter, John?”
Jack is quiet for a few moments. “Butch…wanted the Lone Wanderer too. He said that I put the fear of God into the Brotherhood once upon a time and that together we could be a ‘fucking pantheon.’”
JH makes a quiet noise of amusement at Butch’s wording. “Two vault dwellers are better than one, and Butch has plenty of reasons to be mad at the Brotherhood for taking the Pitt. But that’s not the issue, is it?”’
Jack shakes his head. He chokes up suddenly, and words get stuck in his throat.
“You aren’t only valuable because of the Lone Wanderer,” JH says firmly, knowing the heart of the problem immediately. “There is no Lone Wanderer without you, without Jack. That title isn’t someone separate from you. The title is yours to wear or discard if you so wish.”
“How can I? I already tried that once. It didn’t work,” Jack says, voice cracking with unshed tears. “And now we’re here, and everyone is looking for the Lone Wanderer to step up.”
“It didn’t work because you tried to throw everything away. Not just the title but Jack as well. You could’ve kept you and traded the Lone Wanderer for Deacon, and I would argue that is what happened, but you refused to acknowledge that trade. You wanted a clean slate, and John, there is no such thing. We always carry our mistakes with us; they shape us and can break us, but we must learn how to grow from them.
“Everyone is not looking for the Lone Wanderer to step up; they are looking for a leader to step, and you are exactly that. Be the Lone Wanderer, or be Deacon, or be Jack, but be the leader that is needed.”
Jack nods and scrubs a few rogue tears from his face. “I just hate being that angry. That’s what the Lone Wanderer means to me.”
“Is the Lone Wanderer ever angry without a reason? Or is it just how you channel your anger into something useful, however destructive it may be?”
“I don’t want to be destructive.”
“We’re you destructive in the Pitt with Butch? With the Brotherhood against Autumn’s Enclave? No. And you won’t be now. Not with all of us behind you.”
Jack sniffles a little but feels better. “Okay, but I’ll hold you to that, JH. You gotta keep me from devolving like that again.”
“If you’d like the reassurance of me keeping an eye on you, I will gladly do it. However, you won’t because you’ve decided not to. Not because of me.”
Jack wants to believe that’s true but doesn’t trust himself.