If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead, be sure to check out my Patreon!!!
Go to https://www.patreon.com/Tang12
___________________________
Upstairs, in the quiet upper halls of the Freemason command tower, Shaun waited. And beyond him, out in the fractured wastes, the Brotherhood stirred restlessly—still unaware that their greatest enemies were no longer underground, but already watching from within the shadows of their most trusted allies.
The next day came with a sky that seemed oddly heavy for morning. The Commonwealth light had that washed-out, silvery pallor, as though the sun hadn't quite decided whether it wanted to show its face. Sico had been up for hours already—sleep had been elusive, his mind tangled in the web of yesterday's decisions and the careful lies that now formed their defense.
He didn't head straight for the war room this time. There was somewhere else he needed to be first.
The prison wing sat deep in the Freemason tower, far below the upper command floors where sunlight poured in through tall windows. Down here, the air was colder, heavier. The stone and steel construction muted every step. You could hear a man breathe before you saw him. You could hear a chain shift before you reached the end of the corridor.
The guards at the entrance didn't stop him—they simply gave the briefest nod and stepped aside. Word had already spread through the right channels that Sico wanted privacy for this visit.
The cells here weren't dungeon pits, but neither were they hospitable. Reinforced glass and steel frames kept the occupants visible at all times, and the lighting was just bright enough to erase any comfort shadows might bring. The hum of a generator somewhere far below filled the silence with a low, endless vibration.
Sico walked past a pair of empty cells, then another occupied one where a half-mad raider pressed his forehead to the glass, muttering something incoherent. Sico didn't slow down.
He knew exactly which door he was going to.
When he turned the corner, he saw them—two shapes in the same cell. Shaun, sitting quietly on the bench bolted to the wall, his small frame bent forward slightly, hands resting in his lap. He wasn't looking at Sico yet. His eyes were fixed on the ground, like he was trying to read something invisible there.
And then there was Justin Ayo.
The moment Ayo's gaze found Sico, the air in the room tightened. His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck standing out like cables under strain. His fingers curled into fists without him even realizing it. The anger wasn't just in his face—it was in the way his whole body leaned forward, like he was trying to cross the distance through sheer willpower.
"You," Ayo spat, his voice low and trembling with restrained fury. "You think you can just walk in here after what you've done?"
Sico didn't react right away. He stood there, hands at his sides, letting Ayo's glare wash over him like heat from a forge.
"What I've done," Sico said evenly, "is keep this place from burning to the ground. You're still breathing because of it."
"That's rich," Ayo snapped, rising to his feet so fast the bench rattled against the wall. "You overthrow the Institute, lock me up like some criminal, and now you're here acting like you're the savior? You've destroyed everything we built!"
Shaun finally looked up at that. His eyes—dull, tired, far too old for his boyish face—moved between them. He didn't speak, but there was something in his expression that said he'd heard enough of these kinds of exchanges lately.
Sico stepped closer to the glass, lowering his voice but not his gaze. "I didn't destroy the Institute, Ayo. I stopped it from destroying the rest of the Commonwealth. There's a difference."
"The Commonwealth?" Ayo barked a bitter laugh. "You think you're a hero to them? To the surface? They'll never trust you. They'll never trust us. And now, thanks to you, there is no us. Just you and your little Republic."
Behind him, Shaun shifted uncomfortably, but he stayed silent.
Sico's tone hardened. "The Institute was a weapon in the hands of people who thought they could control the future by controlling everyone else. You were one of them, Ayo. You can stand here and tell yourself it was all for the greater good, but we both know what Synth Retention really meant. It wasn't justice. It wasn't safety. It was about ownership."
Ayo stepped so close to the glass his breath fogged it. "You talk like you understand, but you don't. You've been here for five minutes compared to the years we've held this place together. We kept the Institute running while people like you were running around in the dirt."
"And look where that loyalty got you," Sico said, gesturing faintly toward the cell around them.
The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut with.
Shaun's voice broke it. Soft, almost reluctant. "He's not wrong, Justin."
Ayo turned on him, incredulous. "What?"
Shaun didn't meet his eyes. "The Institute… it wasn't working. Not the way we wanted it to. Not the way my—" he stopped himself, shook his head. "Not the way it was supposed to."
Ayo stared at him, disbelief warring with something else—hurt, maybe. "Shaun, you are the Institute. It was built around you. You can't just—"
"I can," Shaun interrupted quietly. "Because if I don't… then nothing changes. And all we've done is keep people underground, afraid of a world we never even tried to fix."
Sico watched the exchange closely, noting the way Ayo's shoulders stiffened, the way his hands twitched like he was fighting the urge to lash out. But he didn't. Instead, he turned away sharply, muttering under his breath.
Sico took the opening. "Shaun, how are you holding up?"
The boy's eyes flickered up to his. "I'm… fine." He hesitated, then gave a tiny shrug. "Tired. I didn't sleep much."
Sico nodded. "I know this isn't easy. But I meant what I said yesterday—you'll be looked after. Nora's already making arrangements for Sanctuary. Codsworth will be there. You'll have people you can trust."
A faint crease formed between Shaun's brows. "And Justin?"
Sico glanced toward Ayo. The man had turned his back, pacing the narrow confines of the cell. "Justin will stay here. For now. Until we know we can trust him not to sabotage everything we're building."
Ayo whipped around at that. "Trust? You expect me to trust you after what you've done?"
"No," Sico said simply. "I expect you to prove I can trust you. And right now, you're doing a terrible job of it."
For a moment, it looked like Ayo was going to throw himself against the glass. But he didn't. He just stood there, breathing hard, eyes burning holes through Sico.
Shaun let out a small sigh. "This… this is why I'm tired. It's always shouting now."
Sico softened his tone. "It won't be like this forever."
Shaun tilted his head slightly. "You sound sure."
"I am," Sico said. "Because the alternative is giving up. And that's not who we are."
Shaun's gaze lingered on the floor for a long moment after Sico's last words. His small hands flexed once on his knees, as though he were holding something inside—not just a thought, but a weight. When he finally looked up again, his eyes had changed. There was no fire there, no childlike flash of defiance. Only an odd, heavy clarity.
"I don't have much time to live," he said quietly.
The words didn't hit like a shout. They landed like a slow, heavy stone in still water, rippling through the air. Sico blinked, certain for half a second that he'd misheard him.
Across the cell, Justin Ayo had frozen mid-step. His pacing halted so abruptly it looked as if he'd hit an invisible wall. The hard lines of anger on his face cracked into something rawer—confusion, disbelief.
"What do you mean?" Ayo's voice wasn't sharp now. It was low, rough, almost pleading, as if some part of him already knew he wouldn't like the answer.
Shaun didn't flinch under their stares. He spoke with the strange calm of someone who had already made peace with the truth long before he said it aloud.
"I've got cancer," he said. "Only me and Clayton knew. I asked him to check my condition… and he confirmed it."
The sterile hum of the prison wing suddenly seemed too loud, too alive in contrast to the stillness in the room.
Sico's throat tightened, but he forced himself to speak. "Even Nora?"
"Yes," Shaun said, his voice almost a whisper now. "Even mother. She doesn't know." He looked down again, and for the first time in the conversation, there was a flicker of something vulnerable—shame, maybe, or the exhaustion of carrying a secret that heavy. "Besides… until now, we still can't find a cure for cancer. Not here. Not with the technology we have."
Justin Ayo was shaking his head, as if by denying the words he could make them unspoken. "No… Clayton would've told me. He should've—" He stopped himself, his voice breaking before he could finish.
"That's why," Shaun continued, cutting through the spiral of Ayo's denial, "I pushed our operations so hard, Justin. Why I ordered you to move faster, to finish our plans before they were ready."
Ayo's brows drew tight, his voice climbing in disbelief. "You mean… the timetable? The acceleration of the synth retrievals, the expansion projects—"
"All of it," Shaun said simply. "Not because I was afraid of the Freemasons. Not because I thought the Brotherhood was about to strike. But because…" He exhaled, long and steady, and when he lifted his eyes again, they glistened faintly in the sterile light. "…because I don't have much time."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Sico leaned his palm against the cold glass, as if steadying himself. The boy's words had cracked something in him—not the hardened shell of a commander, but the part that had begun to see Shaun not as a rival leader or a political symbol, but as a child trying to carry a man's burdens in the shadow of a ticking clock.
Ayo stepped forward until he was nearly shoulder to shoulder with Shaun, though still separated by that small distance of mistrust between them. He stared at him, his voice unsteady. "Why the hell didn't you tell me?"
"Because you would've tried to stop me," Shaun said, his tone still maddeningly calm. "And I couldn't afford to slow down. Every day I spent waiting was another day I didn't have."
Ayo looked like he wanted to argue, but the fight had gone out of his eyes.
Sico finally spoke again, his voice low and deliberate. "Shaun… how long?"
The old man hesitated. His fingers curled slightly, gripping the fabric of his trousers. "Clayton wouldn't give me an exact number. Said it depends on how fast it spreads. Could be months. Could be a year. But…" He gave a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head. "Not long enough."
The weight of it pressed in from all sides. For Sico, it wasn't just the revelation—it was the sudden reordering of every choice Shaun had made, every order he'd given, every risk he'd taken. It all made sense now, in a grim, terrible way.
Ayo swore under his breath, turning away and dragging a hand down his face. "This… this changes everything."
"No," Shaun said firmly, and for the first time there was steel in his voice again. "It changes nothing. The work still has to be done. If anything, it means it needs to be done faster."
Sico's gaze sharpened. "You mean the work you started. The work the Institute was doing before we took it."
"Yes," Shaun said without hesitation. "Even if I'm not here to see it finished."
Something twisted in Sico's chest at that. He'd fought enough battles to know the face of someone who had already accepted their fate. He hated seeing it on someone so young.
"You're not dead yet," Sico said quietly.
Shaun gave him a faint, almost tired smile. "No. Not yet."
For a while, no one spoke. The hum of the generator returned to being the only sound, steady and indifferent, as if the machinery couldn't care less about the weight of human lives.
When Ayo finally broke the silence, his voice was steadier, but there was something brittle underneath it. "If what you're saying is true… then the Institute's mission doesn't die with you."
"No," Shaun said. "It doesn't."
Ayo nodded slowly, his eyes distant, his thoughts clearly turning over in directions Sico couldn't quite read.
Sico looked between them—two people bound by a history he would never fully share, both trapped in different cages. He wanted to say something, to offer some kind of assurance, but the words felt useless against a truth like this.
Instead, he straightened, pulling his hand away from the glass. "I'll make sure Nora knows… when it's time. Not before."
Shaun met his eyes, gratitude flickering there for just a second. "Thank you."
Sico let the silence hang for a few breaths longer, the three of them suspended in that strange air between shock and resignation. Then he exhaled through his nose, a quiet, steadying release, and squared his shoulders.
"Shaun," he said, voice firm but not cold, "I'm not going to let you rot in here while this thing eats away at you."
The boy tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing in cautious curiosity.
"I'm going to have Sturges convert your cell," Sico continued, his tone deliberate, as if speaking the decision into reality right then and there. "Not into some padded holding pen, but into a proper medical cell. You'll get an actual bed. Monitors. The works."
Ayo's gaze flicked toward him, suspicion twitching in his expression, but Sico didn't acknowledge it. He kept his attention on Shaun.
"And I'm going to have Curie monitor you," Sico added. "Personally. She's the closest thing we've got to a first-class physician down here. She'll track your vitals, keep you comfortable, and make sure nothing goes sideways without us knowing."
For the first time since his confession, Shaun's composure faltered. It wasn't much—just the faintest crease of his brow, the subtle shift of his shoulders—but it was enough to tell Sico the boy was processing not orders, not politics, but an unfamiliar kind of care.
"That's… unnecessary," Shaun said quietly, almost reflexively.
"No," Sico countered, "it's the bare minimum. And I don't give a damn if it makes you uncomfortable. You're not just another name on a roster. You're—" He caught himself before finishing the thought with something sentimental. "You're a person under my watch. That's reason enough."
Shaun's lips pressed into a thin line. He didn't argue further, but he didn't thank him either. That was fine—Sico wasn't looking for gratitude.
Ayo finally stepped forward, crossing the cell to stand near Shaun, his voice quieter now but still edged. "You trust him to bring his people in here? Into our space?"
Shaun didn't look at Ayo, only said, "I trust that it doesn't matter anymore what you or I call 'our' space."
Sico glanced at Ayo then, not in challenge, but with a certain measured gravity. "This isn't about territory. It's about making sure Shaun lives as long and as well as possible. If you've got a problem with that, you can take it up with me directly."
Ayo's jaw worked, but no words came out. In the end, he only turned away, staring at the opposite wall.
Sico refocused on Shaun. "Sturges will get started today. I'll pull some portable med-tech from the upper floors. And Curie's been wanting a project worth her time—she'll treat you better than any doctor topside."
Shaun gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. "Fine."
The acceptance was understated, but it was there. Sico knew better than to push for more.
When Sico left the prison wing, the cold weight of the revelation followed him up every flight of stairs. The hum of the generator faded behind him, replaced by the distant rhythm of boots on steel, the occasional murmur of Freemason sentries, and the muted echo of work being done to turn the Institute into something new.
He found Sturges in one of the engineering bays, elbow-deep in the gutted shell of a security terminal. The man glanced up as Sico approached, wiping his hands on a rag already streaked with grease.
"Boss," Sturges said with a nod. "You look like you just swallowed a mouthful of bad news."
"Not far off," Sico replied. "I need you to stop whatever you're doing and head to the prison wing."
Sturges frowned, half a smile still lingering in confusion. "Prison wing? What, one of your VIPs needin' a comfier chair?"
"Something like that," Sico said, his tone too flat for humor. "I want Shaun's cell converted into a medical unit. Bed, diagnostic scanners, proper climate control. Whatever we've got in storage that can keep someone comfortable and monitored."
Sturges' expression sobered. "That old man sick?"
"Yeah," Sico said simply. "Serious."
"Alright." Sturges tossed the rag onto the workbench and grabbed his toolkit without another question. "I'll make it happen. Any special requests?"
"Curie's going to be monitoring him," Sico replied. "So whatever setup she needs, she gets."
Sturges nodded once. "You got it."
Finding Curie wasn't hard—her voice carried in the quiet hallways, a bright mix of French lilt and clinical certainty as she lectured one of the younger techs on proper sterilization techniques. She looked up from her datapad as Sico entered, her face brightening immediately.
"Ah, Monsieur Sico! Have you come for your check-up? You have been missing your—"
"No," Sico interrupted gently. "This isn't about me. It's about Shaun."
The brightness dimmed just a little, replaced by professional focus. "What has happened?"
"He's sick," Sico said. "Cancer. Advanced enough that Clayton's already confirmed it. He kept it quiet—didn't even tell Nora."
Curie's eyes widened with a mix of sadness and determination. "Mon dieu… and you wish me to treat him?"
"Monitor him," Sico clarified. "Sturges is converting his cell into a medical bay. I want you in there as often as possible. Keep him stable, keep him comfortable. And… if you find any way to slow it down, you try it. Anything."
Curie nodded sharply, the kind of nod that carried the weight of a vow. "I will give him every moment science can buy."
"Good," Sico said. "I'll make sure you have what you need."
By the time Sico returned to the prison wing, Sturges was already in the middle of dismantling the glass panel on Shaun's cell, carefully swapping it out for a reinforced frame that could accommodate medical equipment pass-throughs. The bench had been removed, replaced with a narrow hospital bed on locking wheels. Two portable diagnostic units—scavenged from an old Institute lab—were being calibrated nearby.
Shaun sat on the edge of his temporary cot, watching the work without much expression. Ayo lingered in the corner, arms crossed, eyes tracking every movement like a watchdog.
Sico stepped inside the outer control booth and keyed the comm. "You're about to have the fanciest cell in the Commonwealth, Shaun."
The boy's gaze flicked up briefly, then back to the work. "Doesn't change anything."
"No," Sico agreed. "But it'll make the time you've got a hell of a lot better."
Ayo's voice came through sharp. "You sure this isn't just a way to keep closer tabs on him?"
Sico met his glare without flinching. "If that's what you want to believe, fine. But Shaun's health comes first."
Shaun didn't speak, but his eyes lingered on Sico for a moment longer this time before drifting away.
Curie arrived soon after, her presence filling the room with a quiet efficiency. She spoke to Shaun with the same warmth she used for every patient, no matter their history, asking questions, making notes, adjusting the bed's position until she was satisfied. The boy didn't resist, though he answered in clipped sentences, as if saving his energy.
Sturges finished the last adjustments on the diagnostic array, patting the side of the machine with a satisfied grin. "There we go. Full vitals, real-time readout, and alarms set if anything spikes or drops."
"Merci, Monsieur Sturges," Curie said, already sliding a monitor cuff onto Shaun's arm. "With this, I will know immediately if there is any… comment dit-on… trouble."
Sico watched from the doorway, arms folded, a quiet heaviness in his chest. This wasn't the war room, or a battlefield, or any place where orders and strategy could fix the problem. It was just a boy, a bed, and the slow march of something they couldn't fight with bullets or politics.
Sico waited until Sturges had stepped back from the machines, wiping his hands on his shirt and muttering something about calibrations, before moving closer to the threshold of the cell. The soft beeping from the diagnostic array filled the silence—steady, rhythmic, and, to Sico's ears, almost too calm for what it was measuring.
Curie was bent slightly over Shaun's arm, her fingers light on his wrist as she adjusted the position of a small sensor pad. She worked with the precision of someone who had done this a thousand times, but there was a careful gentleness to her movements that didn't feel clinical—it felt protective.
Sico cleared his throat softly, drawing her attention without disrupting her work.
"Curie," he said, keeping his voice low enough that it didn't feel like an interrogation. "You've had a chance to look at the readouts?"
She straightened slightly, turning her head toward him, and in the faint change in her expression, Sico could already read the answer wasn't going to be good.
"I have only just begun my examination," she replied, her French accent giving the words a certain softness that didn't blunt their weight. "But even from the preliminary data… it is not encouraging."
Sico stepped inside the doorway, the hum of the machines brushing past his ears like an unwelcome whisper. "How bad?"
Curie's gaze flicked briefly toward Shaun, who was sitting very still, his eyes fixed on a spot on the wall as though the conversation wasn't about him. She hesitated—only for a heartbeat, but Sico caught it.
"You can speak freely," Shaun said without looking up. His voice was calm, but it carried that strange heaviness again, the same acceptance that had unnerved Sico earlier. "It's not news to me."
Curie sighed quietly and turned her full attention back to Sico. "The malignancy is… how do you say… aggressive. It is not localized—it has metastasized. There are clear signs in the lymphatic system, and I suspect in the liver as well. I will need more precise imaging to confirm, but based on the biomarkers in his blood, the spread is already systemic."
Sico's jaw tightened. "In plain Commonwealth terms?"
"In plain terms," Curie said, her voice softening further, "this cancer has already gone beyond the point of surgical removal. Even if we had the most advanced facilities of the old world, the outcome would be… very uncertain. And here, with what we have…" She trailed off, the sentence dying in the quiet between them.
Sico let the words settle like ash. Behind him, he heard Sturges shifting uncomfortably, and Ayo's faint exhale from the corner—a sound that might have been frustration, or maybe just defeat.
"How long?" Sico asked finally, his tone steady but low.
Curie's eyes flicked to Shaun again, gauging whether to answer in his presence. The boy met her gaze evenly, unflinching.
"Months, perhaps a year," Curie said at last. "It depends on how quickly it progresses. Stress, malnutrition, environmental hazards—they could all shorten that time. A calm, stable environment might extend it slightly."
Sico gave a humorless half-smile. "Stable environment. In the middle of the Commonwealth. Right."
Curie didn't smile back. "I will do what I can. Pain management. Nutritional support. Monitoring for secondary complications. But…" She lowered her voice just a fraction. "There will come a time when it is less about prolonging life, and more about preserving its quality."
That last part hit Sico harder than the rest, though he didn't show it. He just nodded once, firmly. "Then we make sure that time doesn't come any sooner than it has to."
Shaun shifted slightly on the bed, looking between them with that quiet watchfulness that made him seem both older and younger than he was. "You're all talking like I'm not in the room," he said—not angry, just matter-of-fact.
Sico turned to him. "We're talking like you matter," he said. "That's different."
For a second, Shaun's eyes held his, something unreadable moving there before he looked away again. "Curie's right. There's no point in sugarcoating it."
"Maybe not," Sico said, "but there's still a point in fighting it."
Shaun didn't answer, and Sico didn't push. He turned back to Curie. "What do you need to give him the best shot? Equipment, supplies—anything."
Curie's mind was already moving, her eyes darting to the machines, the space in the cell, the narrow possibilities of their environment. "More imaging capability. Something that can do deep tissue scans—ultrasound at the very least. Intravenous access kits, sterile. A supply of broad-spectrum antibiotics for when his immune system weakens. And…" She hesitated, then added, "if there are any preserved chemo agents in the Institute's old stores, I will need access to them. Even outdated, they may have some effect."
Sico nodded slowly. "I'll see what's left in the upper levels. If I can't find them, I'll send a team topside to search."
"That will be dangerous," Curie warned.
Sico's voice hardened. "So is letting him die without trying."
From the bed, Shaun gave the smallest shake of his head, but he didn't say anything.
Ayo finally spoke from the corner, his voice quieter than before. "Even if you find all that, it won't stop it."
Sico turned to him, but before he could respond, Curie answered instead. "Perhaps not. But it may slow it. Give him more days, more hours, more… life."
"More time to finish what he started," Ayo muttered, almost to himself.
Shaun's lips twitched, not quite a smile. "That too."
Curie began making notes on her datapad, her fingers moving quickly. "I will start him on a regimen today. Small meals, high in protein. Supplements for immune support. I will also need to check him twice daily, no less."
"You'll have access," Sico said. "Sturges—make sure her clearance is permanent."
Sturges gave a quick nod. "Already on it, boss."
Curie moved to the foot of the bed, adjusting the angle so Shaun could recline without strain. "For now, rest. No unnecessary exertion. And—" She glanced at Sico, a silent instruction passing between them.
Sico caught it. "I'll make sure the wing stays quiet. No one bothers him unless it's important."
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.
________________________________________________
• 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:-