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It was the perfect sound. Like Sanctuary had always needed that laugh—light, wild, and full of unfiltered joy.
The sun had dipped low over the hills, casting long shadows across the familiar streets of Sanctuary. The wind had turned cooler, brushing through the trees and gently rattling the old swing set behind the schoolhouse. Somewhere nearby, a brahmin gave a lazy grunt, shifting its weight beside the barn. The settlement, now secure and growing more structured with each passing week, had taken on a new rhythm — one that hummed softly with life, even amid the uncertainty that still clung like old rust on power armor.
Sico stood at the top of the hill, not far from the teleportation beacon, his armor's servos quietly whirring as he adjusted the scope on his shoulder. But he wasn't watching for enemies—not this time. His eyes were on the quiet domestic scene below, where Nora knelt beside Shaun, helping him place a small flower into the ground just outside their home. The garden was simple, but full of promise—marigolds, wild carrots, two stunted tomato plants, and a patch of razorgrain that seemed determined to grow despite the soil.
Shaun's laughter rang again, high and bright as he clapped his hands in the dirt. Codsworth hovered nearby, gently blowing away dust from the flowerpot with one of his utility arms, offering helpful, overexcited commentary every few seconds.
"Perfect placement, Master Shaun! Why, your mother always had such an eye for detail!"
Nora rolled her eyes fondly but said nothing, brushing soil from her palms as she sat back on her heels. The warmth on her face wasn't just from the sun.
Sico finally made his way down the hill. Not loud, not imposing—just present. His heavy boots crunched softly over gravel and grass as he approached.
Nora turned before he spoke, as if she'd sensed him long before he arrived.
"You didn't have to follow us," she said, smiling a little.
"I know," Sico replied, voice low, the familiar rasp softened by the ambient peace. "But I wanted to see it for myself. The way he lit up. The way you did."
She looked down at Shaun, who was now using a small stick to trace something into the dirt. It looked like a drawing—maybe a dog, maybe a brahmin, maybe both. His tongue was sticking out in concentration.
"Yeah," she whispered. "He's… more than I hoped for."
Sico glanced at her, then back at the boy. "He's also vulnerable."
The words weren't meant to shatter the moment—but the weight of them lingered, inevitable.
Nora's jaw tightened a little, but she nodded slowly. "I know."
"That's why," Sico said, lowering his voice, "I'm going to ask Sarah to increase the patrols around your house. Discreetly. Quiet rotations. No heavy gear, no long stays. Just eyes in the right places."
Nora's brow furrowed. "You think someone's watching?"
"I think someone will," he answered. "We're not out of the woods yet. The Brotherhood may have gone quiet, but they'll come sniffing once they realize we've taken the Institute—and they'll come louder than before."
He paused, letting the weight of that settle in the air.
"And if word gets out that your son… that Shaun is a synth—one made by the Institute—they won't see a child. They'll see a liability. A target. Maybe even a bargaining chip."
Her eyes burned again—but not with tears this time.
With fire.
Protective, furious fire.
"No one touches him," she said.
"Damn right," Sico replied.
They stood in silence for a moment, watching as Shaun abandoned his stick and ran toward the small swing Codsworth had dusted off earlier. His laugh echoed again, pure and full of something that felt like innocence.
It was rare, in this world. Precious.
"I know this isn't what you planned," Sico said at last.
Nora chuckled quietly, the sound raw. "Nothing about my life has gone to plan since Vault 111."
"But you're still here."
"I'm here," she echoed, eyes distant.
"Then we make this count," he said.
She turned to him, searching his expression. There was no hesitation there—no politics, no strategy. Just resolve.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
Sico gave a short nod, then looked past her toward the hill again. "I'll talk to Sarah tonight. Make sure the new patrol schedule looks like a neighborhood watch, not a guard post."
Nora smirked. "Good. I don't want him growing up thinking he's in a cage."
"You won't let that happen."
"No," she said. "I won't."
Then, softer, more vulnerable: "Do you think they'll accept him? The people here?"
Sico thought for a long moment before he answered.
"Eventually… I think they'll love him. The way you do. But not if they know he's a synth—not yet. It's not fair. But it's the truth."
She looked away.
"He's just a boy," she whispered.
"I know. But to some people, he's a ghost of a war that still hasn't ended. We'll keep it between us. You, me, Sarah, Codsworth. Preston if needed. Graves won't say a word. Not unless we order it."
"And the rest of the Institute?"
"Still under house watch. They won't leave until we're sure where they stand."
She nodded.
"Then that's what we'll do."
They stood together a while longer, watching the sky melt from orange into deeper shades of violet and grey. The first few stars blinked to life, stubborn against the last embers of daylight.
Eventually, Codsworth drifted up beside them, his lens dimmed a little in the twilight.
"If I may, Sirs," he said gently, "Master Shaun has requested a bedtime story."
Sico raised a brow. "Already?"
Nora smiled. "He's had a long day."
Codsworth looked at Sico. "And I do believe the young lad rather fancies your voice, sir."
Sico blinked. "Mine?"
"Indeed! Something about 'sounding like a robot that's good at punching.'"
Sico huffed a laugh.
Nora nudged him. "C'mon. You just helped lead the revolution that tore down the Institute and started a new age of cooperation between science and civilian life. You can tell one bedtime story."
He sighed. "Alright. But I'm charging extra for emotional damage."
The three of them made their way inside—the newly reinforced house on the corner, fitted with recycled Institute technology, security grids, and solar panels mounted by the Minutemen's best engineers. The interior was still being redecorated, but it had warmth already—throw pillows hand-stitched by settlers, a small fireplace Graves had rigged with a heat-recycler, and a collection of books Nora had started rebuilding from scrap piles and old ruins.
Shaun was already under a blanket by the time they got in, his head resting on a patched-up stuffed bear. He looked up with a sleepy smile.
"Can we do the story now?"
Sico nodded. "Alright, kid."
He sat beside the small couch, stretching his legs out as Codsworth hovered just behind, dimming the lights slightly.
Nora leaned against the wall, arms crossed but smiling.
Sico cleared his throat.
"Once upon a time, in a world full of broken things, there was a brave little robot…"
Shaun giggled. "Was he good at punching?"
"Oh yeah," Sico said, grinning. "He punched super mutants so hard, they apologized."
Shaun laughed louder.
Nora closed her eyes, breathing in the peace of it.
Then after a while, Shaun finally drifted off, his small body curled under the old quilt, the edges frayed but lovingly patched. One arm still wrapped around the bear, and the soft rise and fall of his chest was the only motion in the room. His mouth hung slightly open in the gentle rhythm of dreamless sleep.
Sico let the silence linger for a moment. He remained seated, arms folded on his knees, staring at the boy, as if memorizing the image of peace. Maybe part of him didn't trust it to last. Maybe none of them did.
Nora bent down and adjusted the edge of the quilt, brushing a lock of hair from Shaun's forehead. She moved with the same quiet reverence that she once reserved for pre-war bedtime rituals—something out of reach now, but not entirely lost.
"Sleep well, sweetheart," she whispered.
She looked up and gave Sico a soft nod. He rose quietly, the servos in his armor humming faintly as he followed her into the hallway.
The house was quiet save for Codsworth's gentle hovering, the occasional whir of a panel adjusting to the night mode, and the soft creak of aging floorboards beneath their steps. Nora led the way to the dining area—a modest space, but one slowly becoming more like home. The light overhead was filtered through a warm amber lamp, salvaged from a Red Rocket station and restored by a local tinkerer.
"Codsworth," Nora called gently, "can you throw something together for us? Just… something warm."
"Of course, mum!" the Mr. Handy chimed cheerfully. "Might I recommend the brahmin stew with roasted tatos? I believe the little ones were picked fresh from the roof garden today. I'll even include a hint of that seasoning Graves dropped off. Just a pinch!"
"Sounds perfect," she said.
Codsworth whirred off toward the small kitchen setup, humming an old tune from pre-war radio.
Sico settled into the chair across from Nora, sighing as he sank into the worn cushion. He removed the upper portion of his armor and set the chestplate beside him with a muted clunk, revealing the sweat-stained undersuit beneath. His body ached in familiar places, but not from battle—not today.
Nora watched him for a second before sliding into her own chair, arms crossed on the table.
"You tired?" she asked.
He nodded. "Yeah. But it's not just that."
She raised an eyebrow, waiting.
Sico leaned forward, folding his arms across the table. "I've been thinking about the Institute team. The directorate. The scientists. All of them."
Her expression tightened, just slightly. "What about them?"
"We can't keep them locked up forever," he said. "I've spoken to Graves, and even Sarah agrees—they're too valuable to waste behind walls. And too dangerous to let walk without direction."
"I know," Nora said. "I've been thinking the same thing."
He met her eyes.
"I want you to lead them."
Nora blinked. "What?"
"You know them better than anyone," Sico said. "You lived with them. Worked with them. You know who can be trusted and who needs watching. You've sat in on their experiments. You've seen how they think, how they operate. And more than that—you've seen what they're capable of when they think no one's looking."
Nora leaned back in her chair, brows furrowed. "Sico, I was the head of the Synth Retention Bureau. That's what they'll remember. That's what they'll see."
"Good," Sico said. "That means they'll listen."
She didn't answer immediately. The silence stretched between them, thick with thought.
He went on.
"Look… I've led men through warzones. Negotiated treaties. Rebuilt forts from ruins. But this?" He gestured vaguely toward the east, where the old Institute labs now sat quietly under surveillance. "This is different. This is science, ideology, philosophy… decades of research, power, and ego. That's not my battlefield. But it was yours."
Nora exhaled slowly. "You think I can lead the Institute team? All of them?"
"I don't just think it—I know you can. You already were leading. Quietly. Reluctantly, maybe. But you knew how to pull the right levers. You kept Ayo from starting another synth purge. You kept Watson in check. Hell, you were the only one who could make Holdren explain his experiments without six layers of condescension."
A ghost of a smirk touched her lips. "That's because I threatened to shut down his hydroponics if he didn't."
"Exactly," Sico said, grinning. "You know how to handle them. And they need that. They need a firm hand. Someone who understands the science but also the stakes. Someone who won't let them slide back into the same old patterns. Someone who remembers what this world looks like when you're not living under glass."
Nora's smile faded. She looked down at her hands—dirt still embedded under her nails from gardening with Shaun. The contrast between that and the sterile gloves she used to wear in the Institute wasn't lost on her.
"I don't know," she said softly. "I'm not sure they'll respect me anymore. Not after what happened. After I sided with you."
"They already do," Sico said. "Even Ayo—grudgingly, yeah—but he listens when you talk. And they all know the truth: the Institute fell because it stopped listening to the people who cared. You were one of the last."
Nora let the silence stretch again. The sound of Codsworth stirring a pot hummed quietly in the background, along with the smell of warming spices.
She looked up.
"I'd need your support," she said. "I'd need real authority."
"You'd have it," Sico said. "As much as I can give."
"And Graves?"
"I'll talk to him. He respects you, Nora. He knows you were trying to do the right thing."
She nodded. "Alright. Then I'll do it."
Sico gave a slow smile. "Good."
Just then, Codsworth floated over with two steaming bowls of stew balanced on a tray.
"Dinner is served!" he declared. "And if I may say so, this smells quite divine—though I might be biased due to the tatos!"
He set the bowls down and added two mismatched spoons.
Sico offered a quiet thank you and dug in. Nora stirred hers gently, watching the steam rise.
For a long moment, they ate in silence. Not a strained silence—but the kind that comes from two people who've been through enough to appreciate the quiet. The comfort. The warmth of food and flickering light.
Halfway through her bowl, Nora spoke again.
"Do you think we'll ever really change the way things work around here?"
Sico chewed for a moment, then swallowed. "I think we already are. Slowly. Painfully. But it's happening."
"You sound like Preston."
Sico chuckled. "That's probably a sign I've been in Sanctuary too long."
"Or just long enough," she said softly.
Sico leaned back slightly, savoring the last bite of the stew. It was rich and earthy—layers of flavor that reminded him of something ancient, something primal. This wasn't just nourishment. It was proof. That life had returned. That something good could grow from scorched soil.
Nora's bowl was still half full. She toyed with the spoon absently, eyes distant but not cold.
He watched her a moment, then spoke again, his voice quieter this time.
"There's one more thing."
She glanced up.
Sico rubbed the back of his neck, his fingers brushing against the hardened ridges of scar tissue beneath the collar of his undersuit. "I've been meaning to ask for a while now. But everything kept getting in the way. The raids, the Institute fallout, the Revere Beach assault…"
He trailed off, then leaned forward again, his forearms resting on the table.
"I think you should bring Mel and his science team down into the Institute."
Nora's brow lifted. "Mel?"
"Yeah," he said. "Him. Hartley. Chen. Even that twitchy guy who's always muttering about neutron bursts. What's his name—York?"
"Wes York," she said, amused despite herself.
"Right. Him too."
She set the spoon down and gave him her full attention now. "You want me to bring them into the Institute?"
"I do," Sico said. "I think they need to see it. Not just for the tech—though they'll go nuts over that—but because it's part of the future now. Our future. And they should be part of shaping it."
Nora didn't respond right away. Her fingers curled around the warm ceramic of the bowl, eyes narrowing slightly as her thoughts began to churn.
Sico continued, more gently. "Mel was building microfusion stabilizers out of scrap metal before we had clean water again. Hartley rigged a solar relay out of an old Vertibird and two toaster coils. These are the people I trust to build the new world. Not the old guard. Not Holdren and his ego. People like Mel. Like you."
Nora looked thoughtful, but something lingered in her expression—something unsettled.
"You're worried about the directorate," Sico said, reading her well. "How they'll treat Mel's team."
She nodded slowly. "They're… different. More grounded. Less doctrine. And some of those scientists in the Institute? They still think they're better. That surface knowledge is primitive. That anyone who didn't grow up under those white lights doesn't belong."
"Well," Sico said, cracking his knuckles with a dry grin, "it's about time someone reminded them otherwise."
That earned him a real smile. Just for a second. But it lingered in her eyes even as her face sobered again.
"I'll talk to Mel," she said finally. "See how they feel about it. They'll probably jump at the chance, honestly."
"Good," Sico said. "I'll send a team to escort them once we set a time. Maybe Graves can go with them, keep things level."
She nodded, thinking through logistics. Then her expression softened again. "You mentioned one more thing?"
Sico leaned back, arms crossed loosely now. "Curie."
Nora blinked. "Curie?"
He nodded. "I think she should go down there. Spend a little time in the BioScience division. See what they're working on. Maybe offer a few corrections."
"Corrections," Nora echoed with a smirk.
Sico chuckled. "Let's not kid ourselves—Curie could teach them more in one afternoon than they learned in a year."
"She probably could," Nora agreed. "But are you sure? She's… she's our best."
"I know," he said. "She's the number one doctor in the Republic. No one's questioning that. I don't want her down there for long. Just long enough to get a feel for what they've built, maybe help clean up whatever mess Holdren left behind. She's the only one I trust not to get dazzled by their toys."
Nora looked thoughtful again. Her gaze drifted toward the dark window beside the dining table—its surface fogged slightly from the warmth inside. Outside, the faint glow of Sanctuary's perimeter lights hummed through the mist. Quiet. Watchful.
"She won't like being away from her clinic."
"She won't be," Sico said. "Not really. Just a few days. Then she can come back and keep saving lives the way only she can."
Nora nodded slowly. "Alright. I'll ask her."
"Thank you," Sico said.
The room fell into that same warm silence again. But now it pulsed with something else—a shared understanding. A weight distributed between them, not heavier, but more evenly borne.
Nora reached for her water canister, took a long sip, then said softly, "You know, when I woke up in that cryopod… this wasn't what I imagined. Not even close."
Sico smiled gently. "Me neither."
"I thought I'd just find Shaun, get revenge, and… I don't know. Crawl back into the vault or disappear somewhere. I didn't think there'd be more to fight for."
"But there was."
She nodded, eyes shining a little now. "Still is."
They sat there another while, bowls scraped clean, steam gone cold. Codsworth returned, hovering quietly to collect the dishes without interrupting the mood. He offered a polite "Good night, mum. General," before whirring softly back toward the kitchen.
Nora stood and stretched, her joints creaking in quiet protest. Sico rose too, reattaching the chestplate with a practiced click and hiss. His expression was thoughtful now, lined with weariness, but anchored by purpose.
They stepped back toward the hallway.
The house was still. The kind of stillness that only came when the world outside had paused its madness for the night.
Nora paused at Shaun's door again, just for a second, peeking inside. The boy hadn't moved—still curled, still breathing steadily. The bear still tucked beneath one small arm.
She closed the door gently.
Sico waited for her at the front. The door was unlocked, but the walls had eyes tonight. Patrols. Minutemen. The Freemason Guard.
She walked him to the threshold, and there they paused one last time.
"You'll let me know when Graves and Sarah can meet about the directorate arrangement?" she asked.
"First thing in the morning," he said. "I'll have MacCready on standby too, just in case."
"Good."
They stood there a moment longer.
Then, softly, she said, "Thanks for trusting me with this."
"I didn't trust you," he replied. "I believed in you."
She smiled faintly, and it was the kind of smile that carried not just warmth—but the weight of memory. Pain. Resilience.
Sico stepped out into the night, his boots crunching gently on the gravel path. A low fog was settling in across Sanctuary, curling around rooftops and fences like a patient hand. He pulled up his hood, adjusted the rifle strap across his back, and nodded once before disappearing into the dark.
________________________________________________
• 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:-