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Shaun leaned back slowly, the movement careful, deliberate. His eyes closed for a moment, and in that stillness, Sico saw the truth of Curie's words—this wasn't just about months or years. Every day mattered now.
Sico stayed by the side of the bed for a moment longer, his gaze locked on Shaun, the quiet between them stretching. Curie had moved back to the machines, her soft murmurs of calibration almost a background hum to the weight in the air.
Then Sico spoke, his voice steady but with an undercurrent that didn't invite avoidance.
"Shaun," he said, leaning slightly closer so that this was just between them, "we should tell Nora before it's too late."
Shaun's eyes opened slowly. There was no shock, no flicker of surprise—only that same resigned heaviness, like he had already walked through this thought himself and left it behind. He shook his head once, small, deliberate. "No."
Sico's brow furrowed. "No?"
"I don't want her to know," Shaun said. His voice was calm, but there was something in it—an edge—not aimed at Sico, but at the very idea. "She's… she's already been through enough because of me. I won't add this to her burden."
Sico stared at him, incredulous for a heartbeat before his tone sharpened, the weight in his voice shifting from quiet suggestion to something more like an accusation born of care. "Really, Shaun? That's what you're going with?"
Shaun didn't answer, his gaze drifting to the wall again.
"You know," Sico went on, stepping forward so there was no space for Shaun to look past him, "Nora risked her life from the moment she stepped out of Vault 111 to find you. She's walked through hell—alone—just to get here. You remember that? Or do you choose not to?"
Shaun's jaw tightened, but he still didn't speak.
Sico's voice rose slightly, not in anger but in the ache of someone dragging another person toward the truth they were running from. "And when she finally found you… when she thought there was still a chance to save you… she betrayed you because she thought it was the only way to keep you alive. Do you know what that cost her? Do you even understand?"
Shaun's eyes shifted toward him now, but they were guarded.
"She broke in front of me, Shaun," Sico pressed, his tone softening but losing none of its force. "She cried—full on, couldn't breathe through it—because she thought she'd lost you forever. That guilt… it's still sitting on her chest every day. And now, if she finds out you don't have much time to live…" He let the sentence hang for a moment, his eyes locking on Shaun's. "What do you think her response will be?"
Shaun's lips pressed into a thin line, but he still didn't answer.
Sico took a slow breath, the fight in him not about victory, but about breaking through. "She'll blame herself, Shaun. Completely. She'll look at every moment she could've done something differently and she'll eat herself alive with it. You think you're protecting her by keeping this from her? You're not. You're just making sure she finds out too late, when there's no time left for her to say what she needs to say. When she can't hold you while she still has the chance."
That landed. Sico could see it—not in some dramatic gasp or sudden breakdown, but in the slight tremor of Shaun's fingers where they rested on the blanket, the way his eyes flickered with something more raw before he shut it down again.
"It's my choice," Shaun said finally, but his voice was quieter now, less sure.
Sico's tone eased, but it carried the weight of someone who wasn't going to let this slide. "Yeah. It's your choice. But don't pretend it's selfless."
Curie glanced up briefly from her work at the edge of the room, her eyes darting between them, but she didn't intervene. This wasn't her battle to fight—yet the look she gave Shaun was one of quiet encouragement, as if telling him without words that Sico was right.
Shaun looked away again, his breathing steady but deeper, heavier. "She's finally… living," he said after a long pause. "Out there in Sanctuary, with people who care about her, building something. If she knows this, all of that goes away. She'll drop everything. And for what? To watch me fade?"
Sico's voice softened even more, but it didn't lose its precision. "It's not just about watching you fade, Shaun. It's about her having the chance to love you with the truth between you. To make the most of whatever time there is. You deny her that… and you're stealing something from her she'll never get back."
Shaun's gaze finally broke from the wall, his eyes locking on Sico's with a faint sheen that wasn't quite tears, but wasn't far from it either. "You think I haven't thought about that?"
"I think," Sico said carefully, "that you've thought about it only from the angle that hurts you less."
The silence that followed wasn't empty—it was thick, filled with all the things Shaun didn't want to say and all the things Sico wasn't going to stop saying.
"You've got a right to make your own choices," Sico continued, "but this one… this one isn't just about you. It's about her. And like it or not, you're a part of her the same way she's a part of you. You take that away from her, you're cutting out a piece of her life she can't replace."
Curie set her datapad down quietly, stepping closer but keeping her voice low. "He is right, Shaun. I have seen… too many goodbyes that came too late. Regret is a wound that never closes."
Shaun's eyes flicked to her briefly, then back to Sico. "And what happens to her after? When I'm gone?"
Sico didn't hesitate. "She'll hurt. She'll hurt bad. But she'll also know she was there. She'll know she didn't waste what time she had. And when she looks back… she won't have to wonder if you were keeping her at arm's length because you didn't trust her."
That seemed to hit a nerve. Shaun's eyes dropped to his lap, his hands curling slightly into the blanket.
Sico stood there for another long moment, watching Shaun's head bow slightly over his lap. The boy's hands were still, but the knuckles were pale where they pressed into the fabric of the blanket.
There was no malice in the silence between them now—just an unspoken standoff of two people who both cared, but in different ways.
Sico finally exhaled, his voice low, firm, and without room for misunderstanding.
"Then I'll tell her," he said.
Shaun's head jerked up slightly, his eyes narrowing—not in anger, but in that startled, wounded way of someone who's just realized the conversation is about to take a turn they can't control.
"You can't—"
"I can," Sico cut in, steady as steel. "And I will. She's your mother, Shaun. It's her right to know. You don't get to decide whether she gets that truth."
Shaun stared at him, lips parting slightly as if to argue, but no words came. His shoulders stiffened, and for a moment it seemed like he might get up, might reach out, might do something to stop him. But instead, he sagged back just enough to tell Sico he knew it was already decided.
The look Sico gave him wasn't triumphant—it was heavy, but certain. "I'll give you time to prepare yourself. But I'm not letting her be blindsided by your last breath."
Shaun didn't respond. His gaze drifted toward the far wall again, but his breathing had changed—more uneven, a little sharper.
Sico didn't linger. He turned toward the door, his boots making muted thuds against the polished Institute floor. Sturges glanced at him as he passed, but didn't say a word—just gave a small, knowing nod, like he'd already guessed where Sico was headed.
Curie's eyes followed him out, something like gratitude in her expression, though she kept her hands busy with the console.
The hum of the corridor swallowed him as he left the prison wing, but Sico's mind wasn't on the sterile brightness of the Institute. It was already on the trek ahead—on Sanctuary's gates, on Nora's porch, on the look in her eyes when she heard what he had to say.
⸻
The Commonwealth sky was washed in a pale, cloud-filtered gold by the time Sico reached Sanctuary. It was late afternoon, the kind of hour where the light stretched long shadows across the cracked streets and the air smelled faintly of warm dirt and old wood.
He passed through the gate without challenge—Sarah's patrols recognized him instantly. A couple of them gave casual nods, rifles resting easy in their hands.
And there she was.
Nora, in the front yard of her rebuilt house, crouched slightly as she tossed a small, improvised ball toward the young synth Shaun. The boy laughed—a bright, unshadowed sound—and chased after it, his little boots thudding against the flattened grass. Codsworth hovered nearby, his metallic arms occasionally reaching down to retrieve the ball if it rolled too far.
For a moment, Sico just stood there, watching them. It was almost surreal—the simplicity of the scene, the normalcy of it. It was the kind of moment the wasteland rarely gave, a fragile bubble that the world usually popped far too soon.
Nora noticed him before Shaun did. She straightened, brushing a bit of dust from her sleeve, and gave him a smile that was genuine but tinged with curiosity. "Sico. You're back."
"Yeah," he said, though his voice didn't carry the lightness hers did. He glanced briefly toward the boy, then back to her. "I… need to talk to you. Privately."
Something in his tone made her smile falter. She didn't ask why—not yet—but she turned toward Codsworth. "Codsworth, would you mind keeping an eye on Shaun for a bit?"
"Of course, mum!" the Mr. Handy chirped. "I shall keep him entertained and in one piece."
The young Shaun was already distracted by a butterfly that had wandered into the yard, so Nora took the opportunity to lead Sico toward the front steps. She opened the door, gesturing him inside.
The air in the house was warmer, scented faintly of whatever she'd been cooking earlier—something with mutfruit and maybe brahmin roast. It smelled like home, even if the walls were still patched and the furniture mismatched from scavenged pieces.
She shut the door behind them and turned, her arms crossing loosely—not defensive, but waiting. "Alright. What is it?"
Sico stayed standing for a moment, his eyes scanning the space as if weighing the right way to begin. There was no good way. He knew that.
"It's about Shaun," he said finally.
Her brows drew together. "What about him?"
Sico hesitated—not because he didn't know the words, but because he knew exactly what they would do to her once they were spoken.
Nora stood there, still in the middle of the living room, arms slack now at her sides.
She didn't blink, didn't breathe for a moment. The words had hit — she'd heard them — but they didn't slot into place right away. It was like Sico had just spoken in a language her heart understood instantly, but her mind refused to translate.
Her voice, when it came, was small.
"…What?"
Sico didn't look away. "He's dying, Nora."
Her lips parted, but no sound came out. For a second, the only thing in the room was the faint ticking of that old wall clock she'd scavenged months ago.
The kind of quiet that swallows everything else.
He stepped closer, his tone careful but firm — the way someone might approach a friend teetering on a cliff's edge.
"It's not… days. Not yet. But the truth is, there's no cure left to find. Curie's tried everything she can. The treatments are keeping him stable for now, but it's just… buying time."
Nora's eyes stayed locked on his, but something was shifting behind them — a storm moving in fast.
Her voice cracked. "No. No, there has to be—"
Sico shook his head once, slow.
"If there was, I wouldn't be here telling you like this."
It hit her then. Not in a dramatic collapse — not yet — but in the stillness that came over her whole body. Her breath trembled, and she blinked once, and the tears broke through almost instantly. She brought a hand up, covering her mouth, but it didn't stop the sound that escaped — that soft, wounded inhale of someone who'd just been cut open.
Her gaze dropped to the floor, her voice shaking. "My baby…"
Sico didn't touch her — not yet — because he knew that sometimes touching someone too soon when they're breaking just makes the shatter sharper.
Instead, he said quietly, "That's why I'm telling you now. You need to see him while you still can… and he needs to see you."
That was all it took.
Nora moved.
Not fast at first — more like her body just… chose a direction without her permission — but then the steps quickened until she was at the door. She didn't even stop to grab her coat, didn't look back to see if Codsworth had noticed her leaving. She didn't need to.
Sico was right behind her.
By the time she hit the street, her pace was somewhere between a walk and a run, and he caught up just as they reached the outer edge of Sanctuary.
"Wait—Nora!" he called, but not to stop her — just to stay with her. His boots crunched over the gravel as he matched her stride.
She didn't answer him. Not because she didn't hear — but because her breath was busy keeping up with the pounding in her chest. Her mind wasn't here on the cracked road, or the husks of pre-war cars they passed — it was already in the Institute, in that sterile cell, standing over Shaun's bed.
The walk back into Institute territory was a blur — corridors, checkpoints, elevators — none of it stuck in her memory. What she remembered, what she felt, was the press of urgency in her ribs and the way Sico kept glancing at her like he was bracing for whatever she'd do when she finally saw him.
When they reached the prison wing, the usual sterile hum of the place seemed louder, sharper. Nora pushed the heavy door open without hesitation, her boots striking against the polished floor.
And there he was.
Not standing, not pacing — but propped up in that narrow bed, pale against the stark white sheets. Curie was beside him, her soft French-accented murmurs as she adjusted some medical readouts. There were more machines than Nora remembered from her last visit — tall metal stands with glowing readouts, tubing, a monitor that pulsed in gentle blips.
It wasn't a room anymore. It was a hospital bay someone had shoved into a prison cell.
Nora stopped in the doorway.
Her breath caught — because this was not the Shaun she remembered from that first moment in the Institute. The boy in front of her looked smaller somehow, his frame more fragile, his skin carrying that faint, sickly hue that no mother could mistake.
Curie glanced up first. "Ah—Madame Nora." She offered a small, cautious smile. "He is stable, but—" She stopped herself, her eyes flicking between Nora and Sico, reading the weight in the air. "…I will give you a moment."
Shaun turned his head at the sound of her voice, and for a heartbeat, something like guilt flickered across his face. Not because she was here — but because he knew exactly why.
"Nora…" His voice was quieter than she remembered.
She took a step forward, then another, until she was right beside the bed. Her eyes searched him — every detail, every tiny change — like she could piece together the truth just by looking long enough.
"You should have told me," she said, her voice trembling, but with a sharp edge beneath.
He looked away, his jaw tightening. "I didn't want—"
She cut him off, leaning slightly over him so he had no choice but to see her. "You didn't want me to what? Worry? Care? Be here?" Her voice cracked on the last one, and the tears came harder. "I've already lost you once. You don't get to decide if I go through that again."
Sico stayed near the door, silent now. This was between them. But his eyes never left the pair — ready to step in if either needed it.
Shaun's fingers twitched against the blanket, his expression tightening. "I just… I wanted you to have something good. A life without…" His words trailed off, but the meaning hung there. Without watching me fade.
Nora shook her head, biting back a sob. "That's not how this works. You're my son. I don't care if you're here for another fifty years or fifty seconds — I will be here. You don't shut me out to make it easier for me. You don't get to take that from me."
Her hand found his then, gripping tight. It was warm, but not as strong as she remembered. She held it like she could anchor him there by force alone.
Curie, standing just at the edge now, spoke softly. "He is… fighting. But the treatments, they will not hold forever. I am keeping him as comfortable as I can."
Nora's gaze flicked to her, then back to Shaun. She bent down slightly, so their foreheads nearly touched. "You're not alone in this. Not for one second. Do you understand me?"
Shaun's eyes, which had been glassy but dry, finally brimmed over. He nodded once, slow. "…Okay."
Sico caught Curie's eye — just a small glance, a silent agreement — and she gave a faint nod in return. Without a word, he stepped back from the doorframe, his boots whispering against the pristine floor.
Curie moved too, quietly gathering her clipboard and the small tablet she used to track Shaun's vitals. "I will be just outside," she murmured in that gentle lilt of hers. "If you need me, Madame Nora… call."
Nora didn't answer — her world was narrowed to the boy in the bed, the thin hand in hers — but her grip didn't loosen.
Sico eased the door shut behind them, the soft click sealing off the hushed room from the steady hum of the corridor. Out here, the air felt different — cooler, more open — but there was still a heaviness to it, like they'd both carried some of that weight out with them.
Curie tucked her clipboard against her chest, her brow creased. She didn't speak first, waiting for Sico to set the tone.
He ran a hand down his jaw, glancing toward the cell door once more before meeting her gaze. "I want you to keep eyes on him. All the time. No gaps."
She blinked, tilting her head. "You mean… regular check-ins?"
He shook his head, slow but certain. "No. I mean twenty-four-seven. If something changes — anything, no matter how small — I want to know before his body does."
Curie's lips pressed together, but not in disagreement. More like she was turning the logistics over in her mind. "That will require… adjustments. More equipment, possibly assistance for when I am not—"
"Then get them," Sico said, his tone firm but not harsh. "If you need another medic, find one. If you need new monitors, I'll get them. I don't care if it means running to Diamond City myself or raiding some half-collapsed vault. He's not going to slip away in the middle of the night because we weren't looking."
Curie's gaze softened. She'd seen Sico in a dozen different moods — stubborn, impatient, guarded — but this was different. This was a man bracing against a tide he couldn't stop, still shoving back with both hands.
"I understand," she said finally. "I will remain here. I will not leave his side unless it is to fetch something for his care."
He gave a small nod of gratitude. "Good. And… Curie?"
"Yes?"
His jaw tightened just slightly before he spoke again. "If… if it starts to happen, if you think he's close… call me. I don't care what time it is."
Her voice gentled even further. "Of course."
For a moment, neither of them moved. The sterile hum of the Institute's systems filled the silence between them. Sico's eyes flicked back to the closed cell door again, his posture set like a guard on watch.
Inside that room, Nora was probably still holding Shaun's hand. Maybe talking to him. Maybe just sitting in the quiet, memorizing his face the way mothers do when they know time is short.
Sico exhaled through his nose, slow. He'd seen a lot in the Commonwealth — raiders, super mutants, good people chewed up by bad luck — but this? This was the kind of fight you couldn't shoot your way out of, and it left a different kind of scar.
Curie seemed to read it in his expression. She reached out, a light, brief touch to his arm. "You are doing the right thing, Monsieur Sico. She will need these moments. And so will he."
He gave a small, wry huff — not quite a laugh, but close enough. "Doesn't feel like enough."
"It never does," Curie said softly. Then, more firmly, "But it matters. That is what you hold onto."
He let her words sit for a beat before nodding again. "Alright. Keep me updated. I'll be close."
She turned toward the med station she'd set up just down the hall, already pulling up Shaun's readouts on the tablet. The glow from the screen lit her face, precise and focused, and Sico knew she meant it — she'd keep that promise.
He lingered there in the corridor for a moment longer, eyes on that closed door, listening for any sound from within. Then he squared his shoulders and took a slow step back, letting them have their time, but ready to move the second they needed him.
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• Name: Sico
• Stats :
S: 8,44
P: 7,44
E: 8,44
C: 8,44
I: 9,44
A: 7,45
L: 7
• Skills: advance Mechanic, Science, and Shooting skills, intermediate Medical, Hand to Hand Combat, Lockpicking, Hacking, Persuasion, and Drawing Skills
• Inventory: 53.280 caps, 10mm Pistol, 1500 10mm rounds, 22 mole rats meat, 17 mole rats teeth, 1 fragmentation grenade, 6 stimpak, 1 rad x, 6 fusion core, computer blueprint, modern TV blueprint, camera recorder blueprint, 1 set of combat armor, Automatic Assault Rifle, 1.500 5.56mm rounds, power armor T51 blueprint, Electric Motorcycle blueprint, T-45 power armor, Minigun, 1.000 5mm rounds, Cryolator, 200 cryo cell, Machine Gun Turret Mk1 blueprint, electric car blueprint, Kellogg gun, Righteous Authority, Ashmaker, Furious Power Fist, Full set combat armor blueprint, M240 7.62mm machine guns blueprint, Automatic Assault Rifle blueprint, and Humvee blueprint.
• Active Quest:-