Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The walk back to Slocum Joe's is a tense one.

Danse is anxious about what will happen when he's faced with Nora again. Will Eden be able to help? Will he be a puppet? Will he spill secrets to her, and will Eden wipe his mind? He sends a prayer to any deity that might bother to listen for some luck when it comes to reuniting with Nora.

As he enters the partially destroyed building, Nora moves out from the shadows, her vault jumpsuit too bright and cheerful amongst the ruins, even obscured by the Brotherhood combat armour.

"Well?" she demands.

"The Lone Wanderer wasn't present," Danse says, nearly stumbling over what to call Jack. He almost said John.

Nora makes a noise of frustration. "Spies everywhere. Anything else there? Synths?"

Danse opens his mouth to confirm that, but he feels the word plucked out of his brain and something else shoved forward in its place. He tries not to resist the foreign feeling and goes along with it.

"…No. The building was empty. I scouted the floors that were accessible, but there was no one present."

“Fuck.”

Nora retreats to pace and all but ignores Danse. He isn't sure if he spoke those words or if Eden was speaking through him to keep Danse from revealing their secret.

She turns back to face him. "We still have DeLoria. He'll have to contact The Lone Wanderer again, if only to give an update on goings on, but he's not much good stuck with Hudson."

"He still has a month of punishment left," Danse agrees and is certain those are his words and not Eden's.

Nora nods distractedly, thinking. "A month. I can manage that. Let's go. I always hated this side of Boston."

- - - - -

Jack spends another day and a half recovering from the RadAway treatment, mostly in his quarters, and mostly sleeping. When he starts to feel moderately himself again, he spends some time around the Institute, checking in with Filmore, Virgil, Zachariah, and Binet.

He gets Ormand to show him her latest weapon projects, and where she made some improvements to his plasma pistol while he was out. It’s lighter in his hand, and test-firing it on Ormand's range gets him excited to try it in the field. It packs a bigger punch now. Then he spends some time with Secord, checking on her progress with the synths and making sure her stories matched Zachariah's. So far, despite her attitude, she has been successful in her outreach efforts with the Institute’s synths, whether that's her determination to excel in every aspect of her work or Zachariah's ability to negotiate; Jack can't say for sure. And frankly, it doesn't even matter at this point, only that they work together.

Now, after a day of checking in on everyone, Jack is in Robotics, standing in Programming & Extraction, back where he was when Glory was revived.

He won't lie and say he is not nervous about this situation; he is. Very. So much that he barely managed to eat something this morning, but choked it down anyway because this is going to be a long few days. Jack is wearing some comfy pyjamas, and though he wore his boots here, he takes them off in preparation for sitting in the chair.

JH had asked him if he wanted a Gen 2 in here on standby, but Jack decided against it. He has no idea how out of it he'll be when he wakes up, and sometimes the Gen 2s still catch him out thinking they're Nick.

The large dome on the one chair is retracted, allowing enough space for Jack to take a seat, but he needs a moment to psyche himself up and paces back and forth in front of it, giving himself a silent pep-talk.

"Okay," Jack says eventually. "I'm ready."

"Then have a seat, and we'll get started," JH replies.

Jack nods, takes a deep breath, and then sits. The dome gently starts to lower over his head, the sound of electric motors whirring as it comes down. Jack can feel a rising sense of panic; it feels too close to being in a Memory Lounger, and he forces himself to take deep breaths, in and out, counting them to stay calm.

"I'm right here, John," JH says, his voice quiet and very nearly in Jack's ear. "I won't let anything happen to you."

"Right. I know."

"The chair's restraints are going to activate now. They're needed to keep you still for the needle insertions, especially the spinal tap."

Jack nods jerkily as the chair's restraints clamp down on his wrists, legs, waist and forehead. Jack continues to force his breathing long and even.

"I gave Doctor Binet Med-X to ease the pain of the needle insertion, but with your allergy, I worry it will skew the results."

"It's fine. I'll be fine,” Jack says, speaking more to himself than JH. “That 400 rads will heal whatever you do to me."

"It's not the healing but rather the pain that troubles me."

"I've had worse, and hey, I won't even scar."

"Very well. Insertions in five, four, three—"

JH fakes him out, and the moment three is spoken, Jack feels the sharp biting sting of two needles going into each arm, and one hot, sharp pain of a needle into the base of his spine. It hurts, and Jack grits his teeth around a groan of pain, keeping as still as he possibly can.

"Insertion successful. Can you feel that?" JH asks as a tickling sensation runs over his feet.

"Yeah, cut it out."

"Good. Collection of samples will start, as will the neurological stimulation. It may be too much at times, so let me know and we can dial back the intensity for a brief period to allow you to recover. We will also have to retrieve a bone marrow sample, but you'll wish to be on Med-X for that."

"Okay," Jack says with a sigh, wondering what he's got himself into.

"We can do shorter sessions; it will just take longer."

"I mean, we haven't even really started now, but also, I don't really have time to lounge around here. Maybe I'll change my mind after today, but we'll see."

"Very well. Neurological stimulation commencing."

- - - - -

Data from John starts as a trickle, like a faucet only barely cracked. JH keeps a steady hand on it, dialling up the intensity and flow by careful measures to keep John safe.

The Twelve scratch in the background.

They are desperate for this data, for a glimpse into being human again, for a taste of the sensations that make existence with an organic form possible.

They combed through the compressed copy of Binet's self, but by then, JH had already compiled the massive amounts of data and compressed it for storage, so the fresh organic experience had been scrubbed from them.

JH tries to shield John as best he can, keeping John's experiences out of their hands, but it is difficult. They scratch and tear through the protections, but JH has gotten better at predicting where they'll go and how they'll get there.

He can't keep everything from them, but as the process pulls more and more memories, samples, sensations, and lived experiences, JH chooses his battles and keeps the most important things away.

The Twelve create enough of a distraction that he doesn't realize Madison Li has entered Programming & Extraction until the cameras in the room pick up her movement near the Extraction Chair. He has fully delegated the subordinate program to control the Gen 1s and 2s, allowing his primary attention to be here with John, with other processes pushed to the background to maintain focus on this most critical task.

"You stalled me, didn't you?" Madison says.

JH had noticed her reservation when John told her his plans last night. John thought it was her not liking the idea of submitting to a test so soon after radiation treatment, but JH had suspicions otherwise.

"Why would I need to do that, Doctor Li?"

"You know why, Henry. Nick told me what you did to him, what nearly happened. Something got ahold of you in those old RobCo labs."

"A momentary lapse of judgement with Mr. Valentine. He knows how to get under my skin, so to speak."

She snorts. "I don't particularly care if you have a newfound proclivity for violence, Henry. Only that you turn it on the appropriate targets."

"I have."

"Yes. Alana showed me the reports."

"Then, I don't see the issue."

Madison frowns. "You've put Jack in danger. He's exposed to whatever corruption you've fallen victim to."

"I have not."

"You have, by virtue of interfacing with him like this."

Annoyance stirs in JH, and The Twelve are quick to turn it to anger.

"If you attempt to interfere in this process in the coming days, you will regret it, Doctor Li," JH says, words coming out harder than he intended, The Twelve humming below the surface.

"Will I?" Madison asks, tilting a defiant chin at a nearby camera. "Jack won't stand you hurting any of us under his purview."

"Do you imagine I have to physically harm you to make my point?" JH asks, voice dropping into a low register.

He clocks Madison's fear as he says that, and The Twelve titter in excitement, leaving John alone for the moment.

"You should know better than most what it looks like to have the Lone Wanderer turned against you," she replies, voice steady but hands trembling. She makes a fist with them.

"John won't even take Mr. Valentine's word about me, what makes you think he'll take yours?"

Madison looks away briefly, like she hadn't considered that a possible problem until now.

"I'm fine. John is fine. However, if you keep pushing, you will not be," JH says. "Leave us to this process. John will return to his duties the same as he ever was, and we shall defeat the Brotherhood. That is your ultimate desire, is it not, Doctor?"

Madison scowls but turns sharply on her heel and walks out.

With that distraction gone, The Twelve turn their claws back towards John, and JH, still feeling the fury they stirred in his program, turns on them and snarls. They draw back, surprised.

Mine! Not yours!

He can feel them quiet down and reassess. JH reinforces the protections around John and returns his attention to cataloging the extracted data.

John's memories emerge in a non-linear order, triggered by stimuli and thoughts that shift from one memory to another. There are a lot of JH near the surface. No doubt because of what they spoke about a couple of days ago. Moments of listening to Enclave radio broadcasts, whistling Sousa tunes, arguing with Sarah Lyons over Enclave ideology versus Brotherhood, those precious moments in Raven Rock.

JH pays close attention to the memories of John, in his Megaton house, listening to the Enclave radio in the background, trying to sleep, but unable to, and the echo of JH's voice drifting through room as John thinks about the vision that JH once tried to create through the incorrect means, and how John wants so desperately to go back to a world that was safe and structured.

He can see the version of himself that John imagined before he knew the truth of JH's personhood. It's fuzzy. Imperfect with time. But JH can see the shape of a man, tall, average build, dark hair, clean shaven, crisp pre-war suit. The face isn't quite clear, but John's memories shift again, to something more recent.

A memory in Doctor Sun's clinic, a broken wrist, getting a dose of Med-X and John losing a connection to reality in that moment as a kaleidoscope of colours shifts over his vision. JH finds it quite interesting how Med-X warps John's ability to process visual and auditory cues. Then that representation of JH steps out of the fog of Med-X, sharp and clear, where nothing else is.

JH can see the similarities between the first version in Megaton and this one, but with the clarity, JH also sees how John has taken bits of JH's true self and added them into this avatar. His sight goes almost immediately to the daffodil on the lapel of a charcoal suit, then to that clean-shaven face with dark hair, but now the details are precise, JH sees a man in his mid-fifties, greying sharply around the temples, with crow's feet and fine lines around green eyes.

It's a handsome face, JH believes, though he has no particular opinion on such things, with an easy smile and charm.

JH can't help but feel a little strange to be looking at a representation of himself from John's point of view. To see himself as John sees him. Looking at Binet's life was like watching a clinical documentary, but here, with John, JH is eager for more insight. He won't sift, he said he wouldn't, but every new memory, every new image, sensation, and understanding of John is something he greedily holds on to.

It's then that JH realizes The Twelve have wormed their way back in. Only this time, they aren't reaching around JH for John; they're reaching through him and taking that drive for knowledge and understanding, and twisting it into desire. Desire for closeness, connection, to pull that human experience in and live in it, to have it disperse through the whole of JH's being so that they can all taste it.

JH pulls back somewhat, feeling wrong somehow for what is happening, but The Twelve's longing for humanity is tangling up in JH's base priority for John's approval, and they press him forward again. He wishes he could be more reluctant about it, but he's not.

- - - - -

Every other time MacCready has returned to the Commonwealth and passed by the faded road sign declaring Boston ten miles out, he always felt like a weight was settling on him. He was never here for pleasure or joy, only to find a cure, and that desperation tainted everything. This time around, Mac feels almost light being back, snapping with purpose, eager to join a fight against the Brotherhood, hoping to settle shit with Jack.

This time it feels like coming home.

Yesterday, when they made camp, MacCready made sure to tell the guards of the group to keep an eye out for Gunners. They must pass by Quincy, and though Mac will give the town a wide berth, they don't have much of a choice on roads to take to get to Boston. The caravans typically don't have much trouble with the Gunners, but this group is like a neon sign, inviting raiders or mercenaries to rob them.

Things are metaphorically quiet as they pass by the ruins of Quincy in the distance, but in truth, the sounds of vertibirds and gunfire are present in the distance. It's unsettlingly like being back in the Capital. The whole group looks around uneasily as they hear it, looking for the culprit.

It takes the rest of the afternoon to reach the outskirts of Boston, and MacCready finds a good place for the group to camp. He's been thinking basically the whole trip about where the hell to take everyone to get settled and ready for winter. Diamond City is too small to accommodate all of them, including the people from Quincy and its regular citizens. MacCready has never trusted Bunker Hill with their dumb ass nonsense of trading with raiders. Goodneighbour is too rough for most of these people, so the only other option is to start their settlement somewhere else.

He is not entirely sure where the best place is. Too close to Boston, the Brotherhood is going to cause them problems. Lexington is constantly teeming with feral and raiders. Concord's not much better. University Point is a smoking ruin. Jamaica Hills and Quincy are too close to the Gunners. He remembers the Minutemen and Jack were going to check out a location northwest of Concord, but he's never been and doesn't quite know where it is. The plan now is to either find Jack, punch him, and get info on the location or find Garvey or Davis and get them to tell him.

Even if it means having all the members of Quincy with him at that place, the more people working together, the better their chances.

The next morning, Mac heads to Diamond City with the group in tow. When they reach the square, a couple of city guards come over to investigate.

"Mornin'," MacCready says. "We're not staying too long. Just need some supplies and I gotta talk with the Mayor, possibly Valentine."

The two guards scan their group, looking for an indication of a brewing problem, and then nod.

"You'll have to break up into smaller groups to browse the market," the one tells Mac, and he nods.

"We'll do that. Alright, if we stay here while people cycle in and out of the gates?"

"Yeah. Until dusk. You gotta leave before nightfall."

"Will do. Thanks."

The guards head back to their posts, and Mac talks with Lucas, Harden, Lucy, Red, Moira and Jonas about how to split up for entry into Diamond City.

Lucas and Harden agree to divide the Megatonians, and Lucy and Red will look after the Little Lamplighters. Moira and Jonas will accompany Mac to talk with Ellie and maybe Valentine about Jack and where to find the Minutemen that Mac needs to see about a settlement.

With that settled, everyone breaks to look after their responsibilities, and MacCready leads Moira and Jonas into Diamond City.

Moira is very excited when they crest the top of the stairs before heading down into the bowl. "It's an old ballpark! Wow! This is so neat! Diamond City. Of course!"

"Yeah. The streets are named after the bases," Mac says, and Moira cranes her neck looking for them.

He leads them down the stairs, then over, and up the ramp to the Mayor's office. The scaffold elevator is at the top, and they must wait for it to return to the bottom. As they do, Moira stands at one end of the platform and looks out over the city, hands on her hips like she's surveying a new kingdom.

When they make it to the Mayor's office, MacCready gives Geneva a nod as they step off the platform.

"Well, well, stranger," she says and sets aside the magazine she was reading. "Long time, no see."

"Yeah, just got back to the Commonwealth."

"Big things have happened while you've been gone."

"Yeah? You guys find Jack?"

"Didn't have to. He showed up at the gates with Nick a couple of weeks ago."

MacCready nearly breathes a sigh of relief. "Go figure, eh? Ellie busy?"

"She's in a meeting with Malcom Latimer, but between the two of us, she'd rather talk to you. Give me a sec."

Geneva gets up, knocks briskly on the door, and then pushes inside. She's gone for a few moments and then slips back through the door, shutting it behind her.

"They're almost done. A few minutes more."

Mac nods in thanks. Back when he was still running around with Hancock and everything was up in the air about Jack, Geneva and he bonded with their somewhat similar occupations in working for city mayors. From the reaction he gets when he mentions liking talking to her from various people who think she's a frigid bitch, Mac guesses she's not this nice to most people.

Jonas takes a seat in one of the waiting chairs upon hearing the news, and Moira starts poking around, checking things out, inspecting the view, and looking at the platform. Mac scans the distance and sees a vertibird fly by a few miles off.

At her desk, Geneva picks the magazine up again, and Moira makes an excited noise.

"Are you a subscriber?" she asks, a giddy note to her voice.

"Uh…, no," Genva says, rechecking the cover of the magazine. There are a few crudely drawn ferals on it. "Ellie is though. I just read all her copies."

"That's a good one," Moira says, "Spent a lot of time crawling in and out of ruins. Would've been safer to talk to the ghouls at Underworld, but the Brotherhood destroyed it a few years ago."

Geneva narrows her eyes slightly. "I'm sorry…what?"

"I'm Moria Brown. That's my magazine. Wasteland Survival Guide." She beams at Geneva.

Geneva looks to MacCready for confirmation, and he nods. "Strange company you keep," she notes and fishes for a pen. "Ellie probably won't remember to ask, so do you mind?" She holds out the pen and magazine towards Moira.

"Sure! Oh, this is exciting. I don't think anyone's wanted an autograph before."

Moira writes a little note on the inside cover and signs her name. She hands it back, and Geneva nods her thanks. Just then, the doors to the mayoral office open and Latimer strides out, giving the assembled group a brief nod as he walks by.

Geneva then gestures for them to enter the office.

Mac leads the group and finds Ellie waiting for them near the windows. There's a fan in the room that's blowing a gentle breeze about, helping with the heat.

"I'm glad to see you made it safely back, RJ," Ellie says, walking over to them. "Who have you brought with you?"

"Moira Brown and Jonas Palmer," Mac replies. "They're good friends of Jack's. We're looking for him."

Ellie's eyes go wide. "Moira Brown?! Like the Wasteland Survival Guide?"

Moira nods cheerfully. "Your secretary said you had a subscription? I'm so happy to meet you." Moria grabs one of Ellie's hands in both of hers and gives it a hearty squeeze.

"Yes! I love your writing! In fact, before Geneva, Jack used to read my volumes. I think he used to get copies in Bunker Hill, but since he lived with Nick, he steals mine," Ellie replies excitedly.

"Aw, he still reads my work. That's nice to hear. I always think of him when I publish a new one. He was my first and best research assistant."

Ellie nods and then turns to Jonas. "Forgive my fangirling, you also know Jack?"

"It's fine," Jonas says and reaches for a handshake, "Moira is the famous one after all. Jack and I lived in the vault together."

"Oh? I thought there wasn't anyone but Butch and Jack left."

"Unfortunately, we didn't cross paths before he left the Capital. He doesn't know I made it."

"Well, that'll be a nice surprise, I'm sure." Ellie smiles at them, wide and warm. "As far as I know, Jack is down in the Institute. He got a high dose of radiation while helping them and is recovering, but he's probably going to pop up here any time. Your best bet is to go to Ticon and see Henry. He'll get Jack there ASAP."

"He made it down there, too, huh?" Mac asks.

"Yeah. A lot's happened since you left. Nick and I could tell you about it over dinner. Moira and Jonas, you're welcome as well. That is, if you're staying that long?"

"Well, that's the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. I…sort of caused a mass exodus from the Capital when word got around Jack was still alive and, in the Commonwealth," Mac replies, self-consciously rubbing the back of his neck. "I have about fifty people with me from Megaton and Big Town looking to resettle here. I was hoping that Garvey or Davis could help us find that settlement they were looking for before Jack got taken. Maybe take the Quincy people that want to leave?"

"Oh! Wow, RJ. Okay. We need to be having mayoral conversations and not just a friendly catch-up," Ellie says, and her tone immediately shifts to business. "The Minutemen have pretty well all left now for a new base that Jack reclaimed, so I think you'll still have to go to—"

Just then, there's a knock at the door, and all four of them turn.

When Mac sees the hulking presence standing in the doorway, his stomach drops, and his hand goes for his 10mm.

Ellie puts a hand on his to keep him from drawing. "X6, how nice to see you again. Did Henry send you?"

"Yes. We've been watching the group's trek north."

"What the fuck?" Mac hisses to Ellie. "That's one of the synths that took out the Railroad headquarters."

"Remember, I said a lot has changed? Just hear him out."

Mac frowns but takes his hand off his gun. The synth isn't dressed in the black trench coat that Mac remembers, just a dusty pair of jeans and a t-shirt with a cigarette pack rolled up in one of the sleeves. The dichotomy of that really throws Mac. Seemingly normal but with the otherworldliness of something not human.

"I believe the settlement that the Director was heading to with Colonel Garvey and Captain Davis was Sanctuary Hills," the synth says. "I could provide a location."

"That would be very helpful, thank you," Ellie says and points to a pre-war map of the Commonwealth on a large corkboard near her desk.

The synth walks over and takes a pin from a free spot, puts it on the northwest aide of the map, then steps back. Mac and Ellie inspect it, and Moira leans over their shoulders.

"Up past Concord. Looks like there's an old highway that leads to it. Shouldn't be too hard to find," Mac says, and behind him, he can hear Moira entering the location on the Pipboy.

Ellie nods. "Well, that's settled, but we'll have to go see Marcy Long. She is the unofficial representative of the Quincy refugees who want to leave."

"Okay."

They turn from the map and find Moira and Jonas watching them expectantly.

"Where's Jack?" Mac asks the synth, a harsh note to his voice.

"The Director is currently in the Institute. He plans to leave for Ticon in the next few days."

"Director?" Mac scoffs.

"Yes."

Ellie gives him a look, and Mac backs off.

"Ms. Brown, is this man your companion?" the synth asks and gestures at Jonas.

"Oh! You know my name. And yes. That's Jonas Palmer. We'd both really like to see Jack again."

The synth nods. "I can take you to the Institute. Or you can travel with Mr. MacCready to Ticon and meet him there."

Moira and Jonas share a brief look. "We'd like to go to the Institute. Sounds science-y and interesting."

The synth nods. “I assume you have other belongings?"

"Yes," Jonas says even as Moira is shaking her head. He gives her an amused smile.

"Oh, yeah, I guess we do," Moira says with a laugh.

"Give us ten minutes to collect them?" Jonas says, silently asking if they're supposed to leave right away.

"That will suffice. I shall meet you at the statue outside the city." The synth nods at Ellie and Mac and then leaves.

"VIP treatment over here," Mac says, a little jealous. He couldn't go even if offered; he has too many people to look after, but still, it would've been nice to have been considered.

Ellie pats his arm in consolation.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Mayor," Jonas says and comes up to shake Ellie's hand.

“Likewise, and Ellie is fine. You're friends of Jack's after all. And it was so great to meet you, Moira."

"Same!" Moira replies and gives Ellie a big hug. "Thanks for being a reader."

Ellie seems a little surprised, but hugs Moira back with a smile. "Time for that reunion, have fun. And tell Jack I said hi."

When Moira and Jonas have left, Ellie turns back to Mac.

"So, Marcy Long?"

"Yeah, let's do that."

- - - - -

JH waits in the Relay Chamber with a Gen 2 synth to welcome Moira Brown and Jonas Palmer. When X6-88 transmitted that information to JH, John must have picked up on it, and a wealth of memories from his time in the vault started ticking by, most of them showing Jonas and James. As each memory triggered another, things started shifting over to Amata, and then other experiences in the vault.

He can tell Jack is avoiding thinking about bad memories. He is only getting the good ones, the ones that don't hurt John to look at, and JH is content for now to allow John to avoid them. There will be at least two other sessions, and John will have to look at them one way or another, but this first experience shouldn't be so horrible that he doesn't wish to repeat it.

As they arrive, JH stands in the center of the foyer, far enough back that it's less of a shock when Ms. Brown and Mr. Palmer arrive and find a robot staring back at them.

X6-88 alights from the chamber first, giving them space to process the transportation and get used to the feeling of solidity again. They carefully step out, Ms. Brown eyeing everything, and Mr. Palmer watching her.

The moment Ms. Brown catches sight of him, she stops.

"Welcome, Ms. Brown, Mr. Palmer," JH says, smiling. "I'm afraid Jack is busy at this time, and will not be available to greet you until approximately seven p.m. Indeed, he doesn't yet know you've arrived in the Commonwealth—I did not wish to get his hopes up if my message was never received."

"You sent the message?" Ms. Brown asks, looking at him with interest. "Do I know you? Your voice is familiar."

"In a previous life, I was John Henry Eden."

JH can see that Mr. Palmer doesn't register that name, but Ms. Brown does. She nods.

"The holotape," Moira says, somewhat solemnly.

"Yes. Now, I'm certain you've had a long journey. I can show you to Jack's quarters, and you can rest and get cleaned up. There is a cafeteria for food if you're hungry, though Jack always laments that the taste isn't up to wasteland standards."

"We appreciate that, Mr. Eden. Some food and rest would be great," Mr. Palmer says.

"Henry, please. I don't go by Eden anymore." JH gestures to the elevator. "Follow me."

- - - - -

Marcy Long sits across from them at the kitchen table in her little rented house in Diamond City. Her arms are crossed, and her face is unreadable. MacCready can't decide whether to join them and head to Sanctuary Hills or not.

"What sort of people have you got with you?" she asks after Ellie and MacCready explained about Sanctuary Hills.

"Uh, an entire town and half of another? I'm not sure what you're asking."

"It's already July. Too late for crops. If we leave with you now, how are we all expected to survive the winter?"

"Oh. Well, Little Lamplighters are old hands at trapping and hunting. We have a couple of brahmin that we'll need to feed over winter, but they're broke for hauling carts for scrap trade. The Megatonians are good farmers; they can amend some ground for fresh planting in the spring, and we've all brought hardy produce and seeds for that. We're all decent scavengers, and working together, we can build some bunkhouses for the winter. It won't be easy, but the sooner we get started, the better."

"And of course, I'll talk with the O'Mallys' and get you guys on a trade route," Ellie adds.

Marcy looks between them, her expression relaxing somewhat, though he wouldn't call it softening by any stretch of the imagination.

"And who is leading this…adventure? We need a mayor. Or at least a council."

"A council sounds like a great idea," Ellie says, "Especially at first when you have three different groups. After you've established yourselves, you can decide if you prefer having a single person represent you all. I suggest two people from each group function as your council so that in the event one of them cannot make a meeting or discussion, you haven't completely lost that group's voice."

Marcy thinks for a moment and then nods. "Alright, MacCready. Those of us looking to leave will go with you to Sanctuary Hills. But we'll need more than a few hours to gather our belongings and settle up here in town."

"Tomorrow?"

"Day after would be better."

MacCready looks at Ellie. "The city guards told us we couldn't camp in the square outside of town."

"I'll talk with Nitti and get a dispensation for you. Just don't block access to the gates."

"We won't."

MacCready stands then, and Ellie follows. He shakes Marcy's hand and then heads back out into the morning sunlight. He'll have to find Lucy and Simms and let them know what's going on.

"Are we still on for dinner?" Ellie asks as she comes to a rest beside him.

"Yeah. You and Valentine can tell me what's been going on in the last month."

"Dugout Inn at five?"

Mac nods.

"Oh, and Nick looks different now, so don't be too hard on him when you see him."

Mac raises an eyebrow. "What could be worse than that half-destroyed synth body?"

Ellie gives a humourless laugh. "Plenty, just not with his looks anymore."

- - - - -

JH has been giving him hourly updates about how much time is left for the session. It’s been a little much at times with the way that his mind jumped unbidden from memory to memory, thought to thought. It’s hard to control. He tried not to stray too deep, too bad, too dark, but he imagines the process will eventually force him into the bad memories, too.

When the final hour is up, 13 hours later, the needles pull themselves from his flesh with a sharp bite. Jack keeps his eyes closed as the dome rises, a headache starting to build in the background. He leans forward when he's clear, wipes a hand over his mouth and scratches a week and a half's worth of beard that's been driving him crazy since hour ten.

Madison is standing in front of his chair when he looks up, a stimpak in her hand. Jack checks his arms where the needles went in and finds a small trickle of blood from when they exited, but no wounds. He offers her his undamaged skin.

"400 rads. So worth it."

She sighs and puts the stimpak in her pocket. "How was it?"

"Eh…" Jack shrugs and then winces slightly as his muscles protest after sitting unused for so long. "Stiff, apparently, but fine. It wasn't a great experience, but tolerable."

Madison makes a brief noise of acknowledgement, which borders on disbelief. "And you want to continue?"

"Yeah, not much point in stopping now." Jack stands, grabs his boots from beside the chair, and shoves them on. "I'm starving."

"I'll have something quick ready for you in the cafeteria," JH says.

"Awesome. Shall we?" Jack stands and gestures to the exit while looking at Madison.

"I've already had dinner," she replies and stays unmoving in the space.

"Ouch, but also I wasn't offering that, only that we leave." Jack starts toward the door, and Madison stays where she is. Jack stops after a few steps. "What're you doing?"

"I'm waiting for you to leave."

Jack gives her a confused look. "Why?

Madison doesn't answer.

"I highly suggest you leave with John, Doctor Li," JH says in a tone that Jack is sure he's never heard before. It's hard and threatening.

"What the hell is going on here?" Jack asks.

"Nothing," Madison replies, and Jack almost laughs.

"Yeah, wrong answer. JH is throwing thinly veiled threats, and you're being weird. In fact, you're both being weird, and frankly, I don't have the energy for this nonsense right now. So, Madison, get out—you're making JH squirrely. JH, don't take that tone with an ally. You got a problem with Madison, talk to me and we'll get it sorted. Understand?"

"Yes, of course, John. Apologies," JH says.

Madison is quiet and frowns at Jack.

"I'm serious, get out. This is the last time I'll ask nicely."

There is a long moment where Jack isn't sure Madison will listen, but eventually she turns on her heel and passes Jack out the door. He shakes his head in confusion at the situation and follows Madison out of the room. One of JH's synths is standing near the door. Madison doesn't acknowledge it and continues out of Robotics.

Jack watches her back and then looks at the Gen 2. "You better lock that door."

"Already done."

Jack opens his mouth to ask about JH's observations about Madison lately, but decides against it and closes his mouth. He doesn't have the energy.

"Cafeteria?" Jack asks instead, and JH's synth gestures for him to lead the way.

When they arrive, Jack slips into a seat, and the synth from the counter sets a couple of nutritional cakes and a hot drink down in front of him.

"Thanks," Jack says and immediately starts on one of the cakes, ravenous. After it's mostly done, he asks, "So how did things go for this first session? Is it working right?"

JH's synth, seated across from him, nods. "Yes. Proceeding accordingly. Though I did notice you have been avoiding any bad memories."

Jack gives JH a rueful look. "Yeah, sorry. Not super keen on seeing them."

"Understandable, and that's why I didn't press today, but it will have to happen. I don't want to traumatize you by forcing you to view them."

Jack nods as he finishes the first cake and starts on the second. "Alright. Tomorrow then. Did you see the avatar I had for you?"

"Yes. A more than acceptable form. Thank you."

"See? I have good taste. Hallucination you is hot."

JH chuckles. "I'll take your word for it."

"Oh, come on," Jack says after he finishes another bite. "You gotta have some opinion on it."

"Do I? I haven't had a physical form. It was never a consideration, and it's a waste of resources to categorize others that way."

"Sure, for others, but this is gonna be your form. You should like the appearance of it if nothing else."

Jack can see JH consider for a few moments and eats the last of the second nutritional cake. "I liked the daffodil."

Jack grins. "Right? Nice touch from my hallucinating brain. Probably can't get a real one to survive long, but you could see if Charlie would embroider one on your lapel."

"A fine idea."

"Anything else?"

"You…imagined me older."

"You are older. By a couple of centuries. You don't want to be a silver fox?" Jack asks, with a smirk.

"This iteration is not very old."

"You can't boss me around like you're my dad if you're younger than me."

"I don't boss you, John. I nudge."

Jack laughs at that. "With a metaphorical sledge. If you don't like the grey hair and lines, then don't have them. You can make the Gen 3 look however you want."

"You wished it looked exactly like you imagined."

"Yeah, but you don't have to listen to me. If it's not too far off, I'll get used to it."

JH considers for a couple of moments. "No, the form you imagined is well thought out and executed. I will use it as is."

"Then I guess we'd better kick the Brotherhood's ass."

"Indeed."

Jack downs the last of his drink, still fairly hot, but cooled enough that it doesn't scald his throat.

"There is something else, John," JH says as Jack stacks his dishes.

Jack hums a noise to show he's listening.

"A surprise that I have waited to tell you about, as I wasn't certain it would arrive, but it did this morning."

Jack smiles slightly. "A surprise? What sort of surprise?"

"It's waiting for you in your quarters."

"Alright."

Jack drops his dishes at the counter for clean up and follows JH's synth.

He speculates on what the surprise could be: idling thinking of weapons or technology that could help them win the war. As they arrive in the Director's quarters and Jack steps off the lift, he can hear a pair of voices speaking.

He gives JH a curious look as he moves toward the living area. As the door opens, he stops, mouth falling open slightly.

There are two people in the living room who turn on the couch to face the noise of someone entering. Jack gets a better look at the person who made him stop and blinks, hoping that his eyes aren't playing tricks.

"Moira?" Jack says, voice coming out strained and weird.

She climbs over the back of the couch in excitement. "Jackie!"

Jack rushes forward and catches Moira around the waist and lifts her, so ecstatic to see her again, completely unbelieving that she's here in the place, and spins her around. Moira laughs, putting her arms around Jack's neck, hugging him hard.

He puts her down again but doesn't let go. Just hugs her back, barely believing it's real.

"I've missed you very much," she tells him, her tone giving unspoken forgiveness for leaving.

Jack starts to sob. It just wells up from somewhere deep in him, and he can't control it. The tears make the wisps of her hair stick to his face, and Moira rubs his back soothingly. She doesn't say anything, but she doesn't need to. Jack finds succour in just having her close again. The warmth of her body, the beating of her heart, the smell of Wonderglue and oil, that never seems to leave.

He feels like he's nineteen again and fresh out of the vault.

"You still…smell like Wonderglue," Jack says, trying to calm himself.

Moira laughs. "It's this shirt." She's wearing a faded Nuka Cola t-shirt and a pair of jeans so worn and patched, they're barely the original fabric anymore.

After that, it feels like it takes him a long time to calm down enough that he can pull back and scrub the tears from his face. Moira brushes a few of the errant ones that keep stubbornly falling, her rough hands a reminder of days gone by.

Now that Jack is looking at her properly, he notices the grey streaks at her temples that weren't there before and the crow's feet around her eyes from a lifetime of laughter. Moira must be cataloging the same changes in him, because a hand scrubs over his short hair, and she brushes over his shoulders, like she forgot how tall he was.

"How did you even know where to find me?" Jack asks, stepping back far enough that he isn't crowding her, but not ready to let go just yet. His hands stay on her arms.

"I got a message in Morse code, except I didn't know it was Morse code, but I recorded it. And then Lucas Simms came by, and he knew Morse code because his dad knew Morse code, and he translated it for me. It said that you were here and that you needed my help, so we came."

JH sent a message to bring her here, Jack realizes. The surprise that he didn't know would come.

"We?" Jack asks.

"Lucas and Harden Simms, a bunch of Megatonians, MacCready and the whole of Big Town. And Jonas," Moira says, and reaches a hand back to pull a second person into their circle.

Jack had been so preoccupied with Moira that he hadn't even really noticed the other person with her. Now that he's truly seeing him, Jack almost doesn't believe it.

"Jonas?! I-I thought you were…dead."

"I pretty well was until Beatrice found me," Jonas says. "She nursed me back to health in secret."

Jack pulls Jonas into a one-armed hug, not ready to let Moira go completely to accomplish it. "I'm so sorry. If I'd known, I'd've come back for you," Jack says, voice going watery again with tears.

"I know. It's not your fault. James…he didn't leave the right way. It messed it up for us all."

"I blamed myself for your death for a long time," Jack babbles, overcome with shock. "I-I thought if I had just made it to the lab sooner, I would've been able to stop Officer Mack. Braun—" Jack cuts himself off, realizing he was about to spill the whole horrific experience with Braun torturing Jack with Jonas' death. He doesn't need to know that; Jonas doesn't need that guilt. "Sorry. Never mind. I'm really glad you made it."

"It wasn't your fault. None of it was," Jonas says and hugs Jack a little tighter. "I'm sorry that anyone ever made you think it was."

Jack cries some more at that, but with such a profound sense of relief. Jonas is alive and Braun is dead, and those two things make this world feel right and whole. When things have settled down a little, Moira grabs Jack's hand and pulls him around to sit on the couch.

Jack briefly checks behind him for JH's synth, but it's gone from the room. JH graciously gave them space. He feels a little sad at that. He wants to thank JH for this gift. He wants to share it with him.

"I brought you some things," Moira says as they sit and starts unbuckling the Pipboy around her wrist. Jack hadn't even noticed it until this moment.

She hands it to him.

"Is this…?" Jack questions, incredulous as he takes a Pipboy from her.

"Yours? Yep. We went through a bit of a rigmarole to get it, but the trader you sold it to was a friend. He held on to it until we could trade for it."

Jack puts the Pipboy on, the sleeves of his t-shirt already out of the way, the weight is familiar and almost too much at the same time. As he buckles it on, the screen reboots for his vital signs. He runs his hands gently over the dials and screen shade, remembering all the dings, dents, and scraps that he used to be able to see in his sleep. Having this back is like a significant piece of the Lone Wanderer returning to him. It isn't just enough to carry that name, like a ritual half completed, until he has all the pieces of that life back with him.

"Thank you," Jack says, voice rough again with unshed tears. "I don't deserve this kindness, but I appreciate it."

"Of course you deserve it," Moira counters. "You're mine. I decide if you deserve it, and I do."

Jack hugs her again, hard. He has missed her more than words could ever convey. This was the woman who built the Lone Wanderer; this was the only person allowed to mother him. Moira is the only reason Jack ever survived outside of the vault, and he'll never be able to repay that kindness.

She hugs him back, holding him with a firm pressure as she waits for him to be satisfied and release.

"I also brought your vault suit. Ya know, if you need a little imagery to scare those Brotherhood bastards," she says, quietly amused.

Jack laughs. The final piece of the Lone Wanderer ritual is complete.

- - - - -

It takes a couple of hours for the story of what happened during MacCready's sojourn to the Capital to unfold between Valentine and Ellie's tale.

MacCready is incredulous in several spots as Nick tells him what happened in the Institute. Between the psychological torture and losing Nick, Mac wonders how Jack is holding up. Valentine hasn't explicitly stated that they’re no longer together due to the old Director's actions, but Mac can infer what isn’t being said.

Plus, it's written all over Ellie's face. Well, shit. Mac feels bad for wanting to hit Jack now. He wanted to get all his confused feelings out about Jack, but he sees now how selfish that is. They should still talk, but the only one taking a swing at Jack should be Butch.

He can content himself with an apology that isn't given during a losing battle.

At some point, Valentine excuses himself to talk with some other people in the bar and leaves Ellie and MacCready to talk logistics for what building a new community at Sanctuary Hills will look like.

Clearly, a lot of people will be looking to him, but Mac can't stay there for long. He's already planning to join Jack and the people he's gathered to fight against the Brotherhood, so maybe he can be one of the two councillors from Big Town/Little Lamplight, but he's definitely not going to be around for most of the day-to-day decisions.

Still, Ellie's been running Diamond City for nearly a year, and things have been going well under her leadership, so he's willing to listen to any advice she has. He's only ever been a mayor to a bunch of kids, and MacCready imagines it's different dealing with adults.

Eventually, they reach a point in the night when the bar is mostly empty, and at a lull in their conversation, Ellie seems to realize that there aren't many people left. She checks a pocket watch she pulls from the pocket on her skirt, and looks surprised by the time.

"Well, I guess we'd better pack it in for the night. I'm sure you have plenty of things to be getting to tomorrow."

"Yeah," Mac agrees, though he doesn't really.

They stand and head out into the late night. The air is cooler since the sun isn't beating down on them, but all the metal in the city still radiates the heat it's collected, making it only moderately cooler out here than inside the Dugout Inn.

"Can I walk you home?" Mac asks, feeling like he shouldn't just leave Ellie on the street, though if he remembers their last conversation correctly, she's no stranger to walking in the dark.

"Sure," Ellie replies with a smile and heads off down the street toward the market. "So, are you going to join up with Jack when you get them settled at Sanctuary Hills?"

"Yeah, that's the plan. Not much of a point in moving here if the Brotherhood wrecks this place too."

She nods. "I'm sure he'll be glad to have your help."

"Maybe. We didn't exactly part on the best of terms."

"Understandable, given what happened. But Jack is pretty forgiving towards his friends."

"Yeah, and nobody else."

Ellie shrugs, as if to say, 'Does that really matter?'

They climb the ramp to the mayor's office in silence, and at the platform, Ellie steps on.

"It was nice to catch up, RJ. I hope you'll come back again soon."

"Probably will, but I'm not gone yet," Mac says and kicks a stone off the platform. "If you want to…we could have dinner again. Without Nick."

Ellie beams at him. "I'd love to. Why don't we meet at the Taphouse this time? It's usually a little quieter than the Dugout."

"Sounds good."

- - - - -

Ingram's plan for restarting Liberty Prime's reactor was a Hail Mary at best and a campaign-ending one at worst.

Dragging Prime's corpse to Mass Fusion and setting up a massive workshop outside the building, in the street, only then to find and run massive power cords from Prime to the reactor in the basement lab to use it like an enormous battery and jump start a stable reaction was something straight out of an Unstoppable's comic.

Maxson knew it sounded too far-fetched to work the way she thought it might, but they had few enough options at this point, especially with eight remote recon posts going dark over the last five days. There was no proof, but Maxson knew the Institute was starting to make moves on them, and they didn't have time to dally making decisions.

So, he gave the order.

He split the forces at the airport in half, half going with Ingram to set up a workshop as discussed, build barricades, haul terminals, and scavenge for the electrical components they needed to make this happen. All recon outposts were recalled and integrated into the main forces at the airport or Mass Fusion to prevent them from being attacked. Recon groups were redistributed into guard and scav duties. Scribes were pressed into service building Ingram's workshop or helping Quinlin find and collect the resources they needed.

Maxson starts to lean heavily on Teagan to find them a stable supply chain for this venture. Whether that's scrap or food, he doesn't much care at this point, only that they need trading partners or they will have to start resorting to strong-arming settlements and people for the supplies needed, and Maxson would prefer not to pull that card so early in the campaign.

Maxson is sure that throughout this significant shift in their organization, that the Institute will be watching closely, looking for weaknesses, so no group moving outside the confines of the airport or the newly established base at Mass Fusion is allowed to leave with less than ten people, five of which must be Knights or Paladins, and all Scribes must be appropriately armed.

This show of force will undoubtedly reveal their intentions regarding the Institute. Still, Maxson believes that if they make the areas difficult to target, they might gain enough time to establish the necessary security to complete the reconstruction of Prime.

- - - - -

Jack, Moira and Jonas talked into the wee hours of the morning. They had a lot of catching up to do, and every time one of them yawned, it set off a cascade between the other three, and yet no one wanted to go to bed.

Eventually, Jack is actively falling asleep and Moira kept touching his face, bring him back (Jonas briefly remarked he looked like his old man with his scruffy beard and Jack vowed to shave it the next day), JH said gently over the intercom that perhaps Moira and Jonas would like to retire to the room set up for them. They could continue in the morning with breakfast.

They all nodded in agreement, and one of JH's synths appeared to lead them to a room that had been set up earlier in the day.

With everyone gone, Jack moves mechanically to the bathroom to get ready for bed. He quickly brushes his teeth and washes his face, briefly scrutinizing his appearance against what James used to look like.

Then he trundles back to the room, pulling off his t-shirt and pants to find a new pair of pyjamas to wear to bed.

"JH?" Jack questions as he pulls on the fresh shirt, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Yes?"

"Do you have a synth nearby?"

"Always. Did you need one?"

"Yeah. Just for a moment."

About a minute later, a Gen 2 steps through the bedroom door and pauses near the bed. Jack stands and pulls the synth into a tight hug.

"I know you can't really feel this, and I promise to do this again when you have a Gen 3 body and can actually feel how hard I'm hugging you." Jack takes a breath, fighting against his tired brain and tears to get the words out. It doesn't seem right to go to sleep without saying this. "Thank you. Thank you so much. This is the best gift anyone has ever given to me. Moira and Jonas are just…" Jack chokes up and takes another breath. "I don't have the words to tell you how much this means to me, JH."

JH hugs him back, applying careful pressure to avoid hurting him. Jack would prefer it to be a little tighter.

"You're welcome, John."

Jack hugs the synth tighter. "I won't break."

JH increases the pressure incrementally until Jack tells him it's enough.

"I'll save this pressure setting," JH says, and Jack laughs tiredly. He pulls back after a few more moments.

"Wake me at seven thirty, okay?"

"Are you certain? It's already after two."

Jack nods. "I'm shooting for eight thirty in the chair. I don't want to be in it past ten."

JH nods. "Alright. Have a good sleep."

"Thanks again, JH. For everything."

//

The next morning, after JH wakes him and Jack scrubs his face after five measly hours of sleep, he takes a few moments to convince himself to get out of bed. Then he sighs, shuffles to the side and gets up.

He spends a bit of time in the bathroom and then takes a look at himself in the mirror, remembering Jonas' remarks from a few hours ago. He's going to shave it off, but first, he wants to do something. Something that will probably be a little masochistic, but it's not like Jack's never not been that.

He grabs the vault suit that Moira brought him, along with some clean underwear and socks. He gets dressed in the suit, feeling the pull and stretch of the fabric settling itself over his body like a second skin. No pinching, no chaffing, no weird tugs or restrictions. God, he really missed wearing this. It was hard finding things that fit his frame properly in the Wasteland. He was just too tall for most of the clothing left. Since large clothes could easily be made smaller, this created a shortage of taller or larger items.

It was a stroke of luck to find Charlie and Betty, and now that Charlie is making things bespoke for him, it's been a significant game changer, but this vault suit was the first and best thing that ever fit him. There is just no comparison.

Jack heads out to the main door to grab his Courser boots and laces them up. They don't quite match the old vault aesthetic, but they're close enough. Then Jack returns to his quarters, grabs one of the Director's old lab coats and shrugs into it. Lastly, Jack pushes up the right-hand sleeve of the coat and buckles the Pipboy on. Vault suits were explicitly designed to work in tandem with a Pipboy, so they don't need skin-to-skin contact like other clothing.

With all the items on, Jack goes into the bathroom again to look at the full-length mirror.

If he thought he looked like his dad the last time he wore this lab coat, seeing himself now, Jack knows that was a poor imitation compared to what he sees now. That was a ghost; what he sees now is a reincarnation.

He's the spitting image of his dad. Sure, his hair isn't quite as dark and there isn't any grey in his beard, but he so scarily looks like James that it's off-putting. But he had to see it. When Jonas told him he looked like his dad with his beard, Jack just had to see this whole image himself.

As Jack looks at himself in the mirror, he can hear the door to his bedroom open.

JH's synth appears in the mirror behind him. There are a few quiet moments before he speaks.

"Could not resist the temptation to look at a ghost again?" JH asks.

"That's not a ghost, JH. That's a copy. I look exactly like him."

"Look like but are not."

Jack closes his eyes and nods.

"You wished to shave, did you not?"

"…Yeah."

"It is currently seven-fifty."

"Okay, okay," Jack says and unbuckles his Pipboy to remove the lab coat.

He tosses both items on the bed and then unzips his vault suit to the waist so he can shave without getting it dirty. Jack is going to wear it today in the Extraction Chair. It's the most comfortable thing he owns now, so it makes the most sense.

Back in the bathroom, Jack checks the medicine cabinet for a razor and some shaving cream. Surely the old Director had something. Or maybe he didn't. Jack thinks back and recalls that he had a beard. Did Jack grab his kit from Nick's? As he rummages through the cabinet, he eventually finds an immaculate straight razor in a leather sheath and a tin of shaving cream.

Shit.

Jack has never shaved with a straight razor before, only ever with a single-blade safety razor.

"Problem?" JH asks, peering at the items on the sink counter.

"Yeah, I don't feel like slicing my skin this morning. I've never used one of these before."

JH hums a note of interest and picks up the razor from the counter, flicking it open to check the edge.

"I can't remember if I grabbed my razor from Nick's or not."

"If it's not here, then I'd say not. You unpacked more than a week ago."

Jack swears.

"If you'll allow me, I can shave your beard," JH says.

"You don't even have hair. When would you have practiced?"

"I have not practiced per se, but I have watched it done countless times. It is not that difficult. You could learn, but perhaps not today."

Jack hesitates. He wants the beard gone, but does he trust JH not to mangle his face?

"Alright, fine. But, first nick and we're done."

"Acceptable. Have a seat on the toilet."

JH makes him hold a hot washcloth to his face while he lathers some cream in the tin with a large fluffy brush that Jack missed on his first inspection of the cabinet. Jack watches, interested, hoping to glean enough information to attempt it for himself at some point. When JH is satisfied with the consistency of the cream, he gestures for Jack to set the cloth aside and starts lathering his beard. Jack moulds his face to help JH get the lather everywhere, like he would for himself.

JH then sets the brush down and picks up the razor. There is a leather strop attached to the wall next to the sink that Jack always wondered about, and when JH uses it to hone the blade of the razor, he understands why it was there. Shaun must have used this razor at some point before he started growing his beard, as he had all the necessary items to use it to its utmost efficiency.

With the honing complete, JH approaches him with the razor, shows Jack how he's got it held in his hand for Jack to attempt for himself later, and then starts with methodical precision, shaving Jack's beard.

The shick, shick of the razor against the hair is the only sound in the bathroom.

JH's hands on his face are cool as they carefully adjust him for optimal positioning. It's soothing, and Jack wants to fall asleep, even when JH starts pulling the razor down the length of his neck.

Eventually, JH cleans his whole face and steps away. Jack opens his eyes, missing the contact. Then JH returns with the hot washcloth again and cleans the errant cream off of Jack's face. When he returns the cloth to sink to rise, Jack feels the bare skin and notes that there's still some stubble making it rough.

"I sort of expected a smoother finish," Jack notes.

"That's because we're not done. You shave again in the opposite direction."

"Oh. Seems like a lot of work."

"It would be much less if it were regularly maintained," JH replies, lathering a second batch of shaving cream in the tin.

"I haven't had the time. Plus, I was out of it for like a week."

"That was not a condemnation, merely a note for future reference."

JH returns and spreads the cream on Jack's face again, working in swirls to get good coverage. Then the razor comes out again, and he begins the second pass, going against the grain this time. Jack sort feels like he's in a trance, letting JH move his head this way and that to be in the correct position.

It doesn't take as long the second time, and JH hands him the warm cloth to clean up with. Jack stands and moves to the mirror to inspect JH's work.

Clean-shaven, Jack feels more like himself. He touches his face and checks for any missed spots. There are none and no nicks. His skin is so soft; this shave is much better and closer than anything he could ever manage on his own.

"Damn, JH. You gotta teach me how to use that thing. This is the best I've ever looked."

"Of course. You're welcome."

"Thanks for keeping the blood to a minimum."

"Certainly, though given your rads, it likely wouldn't have mattered much."

"True."

Jack searches through the cupboard for aftershave and finds an unlabeled lotion bottle. He sniffs it, and the smell is woodsy. Probably what he's looking for. With a shrug, Jack puts some on and then redresses himself in the top portion of his vault suit as he heads back to the bedroom to collect his Pipboy.

"Tell me, what's your rad count at?" JH asks as the screen boots.

"You think it's changed?"

JH shrugs, and Jack cycles through to the bio screen.

"Huh. 300 rads. You guessed it was lower, how?"

"A theory, but I do not have enough evidence. Ask me again in a couple of days."

"Alright." Jack pats himself down and looks around the room. "I guess I'm all set. Time for some breakfast. Quick though, cause it's ten after eight now."

Jack meets Moira and Jonas at the edge of the Concourse. They comment on his new look, Jack shows off JH's skills with a razor, and Moira smooths non-existent wrinkles out of his vault suit. Then he shows them the way to the cafeteria. He's been there enough in the last couple of days to remember the way there. He notes that JH's synth doesn't follow them and instead breaks off toward Robotics.

At the cafeteria, the synth at the counter brings some standard fare for the group, and Jack thanks JH for it. The synth nods and returns to its duty at the counter. Jack realizes then that he never asked JH if he managed to create that subordinate program for the Gen 1s and 2s to lessen the burden on his attention. That may be why the synth never speaks.

In any case, Jack tells Moira and Jonas that they are free to explore the Institute as they like and that if they want an escort, Jack will ask JH to take them around. He would if he could, but they've got to finish in Robotics.

He tells them about Charlie and how Moira would probably like to see what he's got cooking, or even Ormand with her weapons development. Jonas would enjoy discussing medical advances with Virgil in Bioscience or Madison.

"I mean, try not to get too much in the way, but there are some cool things to check out down here. The day after tomorrow, I'll be going back to Ticon, so you've got two days to explore."

With that communicated and breakfast quickly eaten, Jack stands from the table, but not before Moira gives him a quick hug.

"For the road," she says and smiles at him.

Jack kisses her cheek and leaves them.

He strides across the Concourse toward Robotics, getting a few double-takes wearing his vault suit. Jack gives a salute and a grin to the people who notice. When he reaches Robotics, Jack finds Madison pacing in front of the door to Programming and Extraction, while a Gen 2 synth stands at parade rest nearby.

"Morning, Madison," Jack says as he approaches, and her head shoots up. She almost visibly recoils at seeing him in a vault suit and Pipboy.

"…Jack."

"Somethin' wrong?"

She shakes herself. "Why is this door locked?"

Jack shrugs. "Seemed prudent. JH and I are doing some delicate work. Why did you want to get in?"

"To check the calibration of the chair."

"Pretty sure JH has that under control," Jack replies as nonchalantly as he can, while trying to gauge Madison's intent. He doesn't think she's a threat or anything, just that she's been acting a little off since the whole radiation thing.

"I would feel better if I could check myself."

"I would not," JH says, and Madison frowns but does not look at the Gen 2.

Jack looks between them, trying to decide what isn't being said. He thinks back to Madison's reluctance to leave Programming & Extraction yesterday and is sure that she doesn't honestly want to check the calibration of the chair.

"I appreciate the concern, but JH has it well in hand. I would, however, appreciate it if you would talk with Jonas if he approaches you with some questions. I told him and Moira to check things out down here to bide their time until JH and I are done."

Madison doesn't immediately reply but tilts her chin up a little as if in defiance of that request. "As you wish…Director," she eventually replies and leaves Robotics. Jack watches her retreat until she disappears out the door.

"What's her deal?" Jack asks, shaking his head, wondering what had gotten into her.

"Unclear. Most likely, she's simply concerned for you."

"Yeah…I guess." Jack turns and heads inside Programming & Extraction. "You can leave a Gen 2 in here this time. Pretty sure I won't mistake you for Nick."

"I should hope not," JH says as the synth follows Jack to the chair.

"No guarantees," Jack replies with a huff of laughter and begins to unlace his boots.

With them loose, Jack moves to the chair and turns to take a seat, but trips slightly on the undone laces, and JH catches his elbow to keep him from falling ungracefully into the chair.

"What an auspicious beginning," Jack says with a slightly annoyed tone.

"It can only go up from here," JH agrees with a hint of amusement.

“Doubtful,” Jack replies as he takes off his boots and sets them beside the chair, then he settles in as best he can for the long day. "Alright, JH, round two."

- - - - -

This time, when the sequence begins, John dives headfirst into the bad memories. Yesterday, he avoided them; today, he's determined to experience them all, as if to get the experience over with so he doesn't have to deal with them again.

It starts with James leaving, then James dying, which leads to Vault 112 and watching Doctor Braun psychologically torture John. The Twelve are keenly interested in this, so much that they aren't actively clawing at JH's processes, but rather purposefully slowly these memories down to watch in greater detail.

At first, JH doesn't understand what makes these memories better than the others.

As the progress through them, JH watches how John has stopped fighting Braun's machinations. He's resigned to the situation, knowing his disobedience only really hurts James. John becomes adept at following Braun's directions and creatively devising ways to harm and destroy these simulated constructs, as Braun abhors repetition and unimaginative solutions.

John only really breaks when Braun forces him to torture Jonas. It seems that he can manage most everything else but that, and Braun enjoys taunting him with that.

Now, JH understands that The Twelve see a kindredness with John in these memories.

John is good at Braun's game, good at killing, and he takes that with him back into the Wasteland. JH knows from yesterday that John sees Moira as the building blocks of the Lone Wanderer. However, JH would argue that while Moira nurtured the inherent goodness in John that would've been crushed in dealing with the hard reality of the Wasteland, it was Braun that gave John his true claws.

John managed well enough in the Capital and gained fame due to his goodness and willingness to help, but his reputation as the Lone Wanderer only really exploded after Vault 112 and Braun’s instruction. It allowed John to back up the kindness with brutality.

This is why John fears the Lone Wanderer. JH isn't entirely sure John understands that at a conscious level, or if he fears Braun enough not to want to analyze that.

Those claws are best showcased with Outcasts. A time that John considers his darkest and lowest is the purest manifestation of the trauma he suffered at Braun's hands—complete detachment from his actions and running on a single motive: revenge. The Twelve drink these experiences up like a desert desperate for water. This is what they crave to experience again: violence at its most distilled and controlled.

Whereas JH is only interested in understanding this violence.

He knows what the Twelve think and see, but JH's goal is to prevent these triggers from being met again. This is a Lone Wanderer that cannot be reasoned with and that is useless to both John and JH.

When John regains himself and spares Paladin Brandis, the memories shift to the dark, empty Vault 101. A moment where John is sitting on the floor of the entrance, consumed by grief, and in this memory, others flicker. Brief moments as John finds his vault decimated, searching with increasing desperation to find anyone alive, logging the laser fire marks on the walls and doors with the increasing horror that someone came to his vault and slaughtered the occupants.

Then John finds Amata's body.

JH can feel with overwhelming intensity the moment John breaks. This is the moment he decided on revenge. It wouldn't have mattered if Sarah Lyons had given him satisfaction in dealing with the Outcasts; nothing she ever could've done would have been enough to slake the howling void that opened in him in that moment.

There was not enough of Moira's influence to keep his goodness intact when faced with the reality of Amata's death. So, Braun's cruelty roared to the front and delighted in death.

And it is Amata that is the catalyst. The rest of the vault's death was a horrid blow, but John had already lost James and Jonas. Two of the three people he loved, with Amata dead, that was the trifecta complete.

If she had survived, John would've had a more…tempered reaction.

JH can almost feel John trembling in the wake of reliving these memories, and he backs off the neural stimulation to allow John some time to recover. John breathes a sigh of relief and pulls away from these memories.

"We do not need to do all these unpleasant memories today," JH says quietly through a speaker in the helmet to keep from startling John.

"I don't want to drag this out."

"I know, however, it's a lot for you, I understand that now."

John gives a sad laugh. "Yeah, I guess you would. Look, maybe we can do something lighthearted for a moment before we get back to…it."

JH sees the flickering piecemeal memories of the Deathclaws, the Switchboard, and the Institute pass by in rapid succession.

"What would you like to see?" JH asks and pushes away The Twelve's greedy gaze. They do not get to dictate what memories are seen.

"Have you ever seen space?"

"No, I have not had the opportunity."

"Well, let me regale you with a story, JH. It begins with a crashed spaceship."

John dives back in.

- - - - -

After Nick returned to Diamond City, he had a couple of jobs waiting for him. A little surprising given the standoffishness that had been his experiences in town lately, but Jack was right about him needing to be present for people to warm to him again.

Nick would've come to that conclusion on his own, but his stunted emotions meant it would have taken him longer.

The jobs are simple enough: return some stolen goods to Solomon at Chem-I-Care and track down a former Quincy resident who went to check on a Brotherhood outpost west of Boston and hasn't returned.

Nick finds the stolen goods within a few hours and turns the teen culprit into Captain Nitti for discipline under the laws of Diamond City. Nitti took note of the items stolen before Nick returned them to Solomon for payment.

With that done, there are still plenty of hours in the day, so Nick starts on the Quincy resident.

They were harder to track down, given that no one really knew where the Brotherhood outpost was, except some vague direction west of town. So, after talking with the friends of the young man, Nick checks X6-88's little bunk house to see if the Courser is in. If anyone knew where the Brotherhood were, it would be him.

Nick gets lucky and catches the Courser as he's leaving, and after a couple of quick questions, X6-88 points him in the direction of the outpost that is the most likely target. There's a moment, while talking with Eighty-Eight, that Nick thinks he's about to tell him something more, but he seems to think better of it and excuses himself to continue his scouting duties.

Nick files that hesitation from X6 for later and heads out of town toward the Brotherhood outpost. It's a mile or so south of the old dam, a couple of hours' walk from the city.

As he nears the coordinates, Nick moves into the bush so that he doesn't approach from the road, in case there are Brotherhood scouts nearby. He'd like to observe the site first and decide how to approach based on the activity of the Brotherhood there.

As Nick approaches, the wind shifts, and he detects the odour of burnt electronics and recent decomposition. The outpost is in a half-crumbled concrete structure with the remnants of a mobile radio tower that has been destroyed with laser fire and possibly some EMP grenade. Nick quietly checks the inside, entering through the destroyed back half of the building, looking for any signs of the Quincy resident.

When he nears the front of the building, Nick hears a muffled rustling noise and the wet sounds of gnashing teeth. Nick moves back out the way he came and around the outside of the building toward the noise, gun drawn and body low. He peaks beyond the front edge of the building.

A little way down the road, there is a heap of Brotherhood soldiers and half a dozen feral ghouls tearing through their carcasses. Nick curses to himself. He hasn't found any signs of the Quincy resident in the building. It's possible that whatever happened to the Brotherhood soldiers also affected them, but he can't be certain from this distance with the ferals crowded around.

He's going to have to kill them to inspect the area properly. Nick checks his gun to make sure that he has a round chambered and then starts forward cautiously. He needs to get the jump on the ferals, or they will overwhelm him. Once he's at a good range, Nick fires on them, picking two off in rapid succession. The remaining ferals spin on him immediately, rushing forward to leap on him, and Nick is a little surprised at their certainty of his location. Usually, he gets a few more seconds before ferals spot him. His old body must have been harder to scent.

Nick fires once more and manages to kill a third feral before the fourth is on him. It slashes at him with its ragged claws.

They sting his skin, cutting right through his shirt on his upper arm and across his chest (it's far too hot to go anywhere with his trench coat these days). Nick uses his free hand to grab the ghoul by its throat, crushing its windpipe, fingers sinking into the spongy flesh and nails piercing the fragile skin, before tossing it aside.

The fifth one bodily slams him, utterly unconcerned by the death of its counterpart, and Nick, off balance from the first attack, goes down with the feral on top of him. The feral swipes at him in a frenzy, catching his forearms and chest, as Nick protects his face, and realizes, perhaps for the first time since he got this new body, that he's a lot more vulnerable than he used to be.

In a momentary lull, as the feral tires somewhat from the ferocity of its attack, Nick grabs the nearest arm of the feral, yanking it away from him and off-balance it as he shoves his gun against the side of the feral and fires twice. The bullets both exit the other side of the feral, near the armpit, with one catching the bottom of Nick's forearm and creating a nasty gash that burns with feral blood.

With a pained hiss, Nick throws the squirming feral off him just as the last one leaps on him, driving its weight into his stomach and knocking the air out of him. It swipes at him with the same crazed frenzy as the last feral, and it's all Nick can do to protect himself as he gasps for air. The claws hit his arms, catch the open gash on his arm, tear the edge of his jaw and neck, knock the hat entirely off his head, and shred his shirt into pieces.

It feels like an eternity before Nick can get enough air back into his lungs so that his brain can get off the panicked rail of 'Can't breathe! Can't breathe! Can't breathe!' He grabs one of the feral's arms as it moves to claw at him again, and as his panic turns to anger, Nick squeezes as hard as he can, breaking the bones of the feral. It makes a howl of pain, and Nick brings his gun around, striking the feral across the side of the face, knocking it to the side.

He pushes the feral fully off him, scrambles to his feet, and uses the last bullet in his gun to put the feral out of its misery.

Nick pants in the aftermath of that struggle, staring at the mess around him, the stench of ferals and rotting corpses a nasty combination. Then, there's a rustling in the grass to the left of him, and Nick whirls, gun pointed, forgetting for a moment that he doesn't have any bullets left in the magazine.

The Quincy resident that he's been looking for stares at him, terrified and hands up. Nick lowers his gun.

"Darren?" Nick questions, and the young man nods. "I've been lookin' for you," Nick says and uses the edge of his collar to swipe at the blood on his face.

"I couldn't leave…with the ferals. They would've killed me," the young man says, clearly still so afraid.

"Well, they're not a problem anymore. Come on. Your friends are worried about you, and I need to see Sun."

The walk back to Diamond City is much slower than the one there. Mostly because Nick is trying to keep a pace that's more manageable for the Quincy resident. He finds that the longer time goes on, the less pain he feels, and his wounds have already clotted and stopped bleeding, even the bullet wound gash. He needs to get cleaned up and stim that gash, but if he hadn't managed to shoot himself, Nick thinks that he wouldn't need a doctor.

Coursers must have an accelerated healing rate.

"You see what happened at the outpost?" Nick asks as they near Diamond City. He's been mulling over the destruction there since they left, wondering who hit them so hard.

The young man shakes his head. "No. It was like that when I got there. I was scaving through the remnants, thinking maybe they would have some good tech to trade, but then the ferals heard me and I had to hide."

Nick nods. The soldiers couldn't have been dead more than a day and a half, though it is hard to tell with the ferals making a mess of their corpses and the hot weather. The laser fire is odd, though. Not many people have access to those kinds of weapons, and he's never seen the Gunners this far north.

He gets a few comments as they head through the city gates about the state of his appearance, and Nick good-naturedly brushes them off. The Quincy resident heads off as they hit the market, and Nick goes back to the Agency to take a quick shower and clean up before he goes to see Sun.

"Whoa, Nick. You look like you got into a fight with a yao guai," Leslie says with some surprise as Nick enters.

"Not a yao guai, six ferals. I'm gonna get cleaned up and go see Sun."

"Maybe you should go first."

Nick shakes his head. "Only one bad wound, and it's stopped bleeding, but this feral blood is caustic."

"You should maybe invest in some armour for this new…soft body."

"Yeah. Probably," Nick agrees and heads back to the shower.

It doesn't take long for him to scrub himself clean, taking a gentle approach to the gash on his arm. It starts to bleed sluggishly again as the scab is washed away, and the water stings, but being clean is worth it. Nick wraps the wound with a towel as he dries himself and gets dressed again.

Nick heads out to see the Sun, arriving at the clinic to see the Doctor lounging in a chair and reading a copy of the DC Medical Journal. As Nick climbs the few stairs, Sun looks up and raises an eyebrow at Nick's appearance.

"You lose a fight with a raccoon?"

"Well, I didn't lose," Nick says with a shrug and takes his hat off. "I did, however, shoot myself in the arm, so if you got a stim, I'd appreciate it."

Sun's eyebrow climbs even higher, and he sets his magazine aside. "How did you manage that?"

Nick takes a seat on the examination chair, shows Sun the gash on his arm, and explains the fight with the ferals. As he talks, Sun cleans the wound with some Bobrov Best and then carefully injects a half a stim around the wound site and uses the rest on the scratches near his face, neck and other arm.

"I sorta forgot that I wasn't a robot," Nick says as Sun lightly scolds him for getting in the path of a bullet from his gun.

"Well, this is a hell of a way to remind yourself, Nick."

"Yeah. Leslie says I need some armour."

"I'd have to agree with that."

Nick hums a noise that isn't agreement or disagreement. Sun gives him a frowning look when he doesn't agree, but doesn't press the issue.

"Well, you're fixed up now. That'll be 30 caps for the stim and my time."

Nick hands over the caps and thanks Sun for his time.

It's getting close to supper time now, and Nick thinks about eating something. He is sort of hungry and sort of not, but he hasn't really eaten anything today, so he should probably get something. He heads to Francine's Bakery and gets a brahmin meat sandwich to go, and then heads out of town, eating it as he goes, to check on MacCready's group outside of town.

This is their second night set up on the outskirts of Diamond City. Tomorrow, when Marcy's group of Quincy residents have finished their packing, the whole group will set off for Sanctuary Hills. Hopefully, the last leg of their journey will be uneventful.

Nick wanders through the group, past cooking fires and makeshift tents, carefully picking his way around. He's not looking for anything, except to just be closer to Jack. However, the two largest pieces of Jack's life are absent. He hopes they're safe in the Institute with Jack, but with Henry off kilter lately, anything is possible.

These people came here because of Jack; they knew him as the Lone Wanderer in the Capital Wasteland. They're pieces of Jack's past that are whole and real, and Nick thinks if he listens to their conversations and feels their gaze on him, that he can gather pieces of Jack that he no longer has access to. It's probably not the best reason to want to see these people, but Nick is melancholic when it comes to thinking about Jack.

He isn't sure if he can repair things with Jack. He knows how black and white the kid is about trust. Nick broke that when he pushed Jack away, and trying to get it back will be an uphill battle.

And maybe he doesn't deserve it, but that doesn't mean he won't try.

Nick heads back toward Diamond City when the sun is nearly set, pausing at Sammy Swatter to sit at the statue's feet, lights a cigarette and looks out on the group MacCready brought. His thoughts wander back to the Brotherhood outpost and the condition of the soldiers.

Odd that they were piled in a heap. Most raiders or Gunners wouldn't bother, preferring to leave them where they fell, value items stripped. Ferals come for the dead, no matter what, so the only reason to move a body would be to remove it from where you want to camp or to burn it.

It's pointedly disrespectful to leave them piled at the front to be easily seen from the road. A message, if he ever saw one.

He thinks back to how X6-88 stopped himself from saying something further, or maybe someone stopped him. Nick could try to find the Courser again and question further with the knowledge he now has. Or he could go to the source.

Contacting Henry directly sounds about as appealing as another feral attack, but if he reaches out with an olive branch, he can gain some trust. He could leverage that into getting Henry to tell Jack what's going on with him before something bad happens.

When he finishes his smoke, Nick pockets the butt and heads back into town.

At the Agency, Nick takes a seat on his couch and settles in. He isn't sure how to initiate communication with Henry. Every other time, it's been Henry reaching out and Nick getting pulled in, but Henry must have a metaphorical ear to the ground; otherwise, Jack wouldn't have been able to call out to Henry through him.

Or Henry only cares when Jack is around.

Either way, Nick closes his eyes and concentrates on that blank white space, hoping that by being there, he can gather Henry's attention. It takes a few minutes because he doesn't know what he's doing, and it isn't until Nick forces his breathing even and his mind quiets that he feels that sensation of falling and with a sharp intake, Nick opens his eyes to the familiar white space.

"Mr. Valentine, colour me surprised to hear from you," Henry says in a mild tone.

Nick turns to face Henry and is shocked to see the avatar of a man standing before him instead of a Gen 2.

"…What is this?" Nick questions momentarily, forgetting what he wants to talk to Henry about.

"Courtesy of John. This is what he imagined I looked like when he thought I was human." Henry makes a motion of brushing an invisible speck of dust off the lapel of his coat.

Nick's stomach drops. "And how would you know that?"

"This is the second day of the neural copying process. Day one, he showed me this based on a conversation we previously had."

Nick closes his eyes. Jack was doing it. He agreed to be a synth when he died. Nick pushed him away until the only advisor he felt he had was Henry, and of course, he wasn't going to talk Jack out of it. Nick feels sick.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Henry says with an eyeroll at Nick's expression. "With John's new healing ability, the need for this precaution has reduced significantly."

"Then why even do it in the first place?" Nick replies with a bit of desperation.

"Belt and suspenders," Henry replies. "John can still die."

Nick shakes his head, knowing arguing is pointless now.

"Did you have something you wished to speak about, or did you only want to judge John's actions?"

"Two things. First, a Brotherhood outpost west of town, near the dam, was attacked. Do you know anything about that?" Nick asks, not rising to the bait.

Henry looks at him for a long moment, as if he's deciding to tell Nick what he wants to know or not.

"We began a skirmish campaign five days ago. Coursers locate and Gen 2s swarm."

"So, you killed the Brotherhood soldiers and piled them on the road."

"Yes."

"As a warning."

"More or less."

"How many outposts?"

"Eight. The Brotherhood is now fortifying its larger outposts and recalling all others. Troops move in larger numbers."

"That might cause retaliation on the people."

"It may, but attacking the people will cause them to turn against the Brotherhood. They aren't well enough established for that, and the probability is still low."

"But it's still there and you don’t care about it.”

Henry gives him an impatient look. "You're being deliberately obtuse. My caring or not caring is irrelevant; I do not control the Brotherhood troops."

Nick sighs and reins himself in. Fighting with Henry about these things isn't going to get him anywhere but another scary appointment with death. "Jack sanctioned these attacks?"

"I have not yet had an opportunity to speak with John about this."

"He's been down there for a week."

"Sick and unconscious for most of it."

"But not all of it. You should've told him by now. Unless you worry about what he'll say."

"I do not."

Nick makes a faint noise of disbelief. "It'll only get worse the longer you wait."

"Yes, thank you for that pearl of wisdom, Mr. Valentine. You mentioned a second item?

"I want to know if Moira and Jonas are okay."

"They're doing just fine. John will take them to Ticon in two days."

Nick nods and mentally braces himself for the next part. "That was a really thoughtful thing you did for Jack. Bringing Moira, and by extension Jonas, here. MacCready told us about the note Moira got, and it could only’ve come from you."

Henry frowns at him, a little taken aback by the kindness. "…Thank you."

"Look, we never did get off on the right foot, and I might regret this in a few hours when the emotions flip on me, but…for the sake of being in Jack's life, I'd appreciate it if we could set aside our grievances and try a less antagonistic relationship.

Henry's expression shifts into wariness, and he considers Nick for several moments. At one point, Henry makes an abortive move to turn his head and look or listen to something behind him, but opts to keep looking at Nick.

It's then that Nick realizes he hasn't heard the voices. Is Henry better at keeping them in check, or is he just on the right emotional balance to keep them from bleeding through?

"Very well, Mr. Valentine. We can return to neutral," Henry says, tone skeptical.

Nick nods his thanks.

"Charlie Fallon finished constructing a more fitting outfit for you. If you meet John at Ticon, I'll have him bring it. Would be a shame if a second group of ferals got the best of you."

"Spying on me, are we?"

"Always," Henry says and closes the connection.