Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Joe Murphy opened his eyes. There was a dusting of snow on the ground, unusual for this time of year. The sky was grey, but there was some blue to the North, slowly pushing in. An American flag was burning in the distance. If he squinted hard enough, the scorch marks on the blue field were in the shape of a dead man, lying on the ground of some far off battlefield. And Joe was dragging a dying man by the straps of his armor. 

His name was Kyle Burton, Joe remembered. He was shot in the gut— a clean wound right through his stomach by a sniper, who Joe and his men couldn’t find. Burton was a goner, unless Joe could get to a medic, and Joe was determined to do just that. 

Joe had run out of cover and grabbed onto Burton’s shoulder strap tight with one hand. His other hand held his laser rifle. Joe heard another shot make contact with the Earth behind him. Miss, he thought. Fucking commies. Joe’s leg gave out from underneath him. He fell to the ground, feeling woozy. But it was alright, he still had Burton’s armor in his left hand, and that was what mattered.

Joe fired a few shots with his rifle in the general direction of the sniper. The reverb of the shots traveling for miles. He turned around, and saw one of his troops reaching out to him. Joe struggled to get back to his feet, to keep pushing on, but he couldn’t. Something wasn’t letting him. A cramp, or-

“Blue! Your leg!” A voice shouted. Joe knew that voice. Corporal Ryan Peck.

That was when Joe looked down at his leg. It was gone. Replaced with shredded pork, dyed red with food coloring. I’d kill for some pulled pork right now<i, he thought, Nora makes killer-

Then, Joe awoke.

The soft black of her hair was the first thing Joe saw, and her shoulders, what could be seen of them between the straps of her nightgown. The first thing he felt was a cold sweat that trickled down his back and chest. Joe rolled onto his back and sighed softly. Nora rolled over too, draping an arm across his chest, and laying her head on his collarbone . 

“Nightmare?” She asked groggily. He should’ve known she’d awaken. She joked once that she could sense his bad dreams, and he only barely believed it. In reality, though, he probably just talked in his sleep.

Joe placed a kiss on the top of her head. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Go back to bed, honey,” he said, feigning the sleepiness she must’ve been feeling. Nora nestled her head into his chest, glad to oblige his wish. 

Joe slowly moved his head to look at the alarm clock to his right. 2:37 A.M. He turned his head again to look up at the ceiling. Like he used to when his parents used to fight in his childhood, Joe thought about the soft white paint on plaster that covered the asbestos insulation, which coated the rebar frame of their home. He could see all the way to the shingles on their roof, and all the way to the stars in the night sky. 

But he could only be so distracted thinking about the layers of a house. His mind inevitably wandered to the medals in the nightstand where the clock sat. To the photo that hung on the wall, right next to the one of he and Nora on the day he proposed. To the pistol he kept in his underwear drawer. 

All this when he should have been thinking about the beautiful woman he had sprawled across his chest. When he should have been thinking about his baby boy in the other room. Joe exhaled deeply. 

Despite his protests, his eyes eventually became too heavy to stay open, and Joseph Murphy drifted into, thankfully, dreamless sleep.

When he awoke, Nora was gone. Joe heard Codsworth in the kitchen, probably heating up water for coffee. Joe rolled over and sighed. He carefully lifted the covers off his body and flung his right leg over the side of the bed, then reached for his other leg. 

Good ol’ America, dishing out cybernetic legs to her veterans like slices of pie. 

Joe slid the leg into the metal casing on his stump and waited a minute for it to boot up. He wriggled his toes, feeling the sensation of them coming back online. The fake looked as good as the real thing. The Army custom made one for him, something they rarely ever did. Most were factory models, chrome plating that encased the nerve sensors and wires that connected to the electronics over where the amputation had occurred and ran up all the way to his brain. 

Joe slowly stood up from where he sat on the bed. He stretched his back, then reached down to stretch his hamstrings. No, hamstring. The other leg just felt like a hamstring.  Joe walked to the photo that hung on the wall, and lifted it off where its nail. 

Four men- No, four boys. He was a boy then, they all were. Himself, the moniker “Blue” written in marker above his head, Ryan, Ioan, and William. The latter two had both been killed in a Vertibird crash in Anchorage, not long after this photo was taken. Joe shut his eyes and smiled. He placed two fingers to his lips then to the photo. He placed the picture back on the wall. 

Joe carefully walked across the hall, careful not to over strain either leg. He took a steamy shower, and dressed in a white t-shirt and beige khakis for the Saturday morning. He looked into the mirror as he fixed his hair, rehearsing the speech he would give to the Veteren’s Hall that night. 

“War, war never changes,” he finished, just as Nora walked behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“You’re gonna knock them dead at the Veteren’s Hall tonight, hon,” she said stepping into the mirror beside him.

“You think?”

“Absolutely. Now get ready and stop hogging the mirror.”

Joe smiled and stepped away from the sink, beckoning her to step forward. “Has Shaun eaten this morning?” 

“No, but don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of it in a little. I don’t even think he’s woken up yet.”

Joe smiled. “Hey, I was thinking later tonight the three of us could go to the park? Before the speech, obviously.”

Nora scoffed playfully. “The park? With you? And have another baby? I think I’ll pass.” 

Joe wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her towards him, kissing her in the temple. In response, she pushed him away, widely grinning.

“Woah big guy, at least let me get on my makeup first.” 

Before Joe could respond, Codsworth called from the kitchen, “Coffee’s ready!” 

Nora turned to face Joe, and stood on her tippy toes to kiss him on the lips. She fell down onto the balls of her feet. “You should go get your coffee.”

“You’re telling me you don’t want a cup of Joe in the morning?” His smile widened.

“Go!” Nora said, pushing him away from the sink, the word stretched into two syllables from her laugh. 

Joe walked into the kitchen, where Codsworth was waiting, holding a kettle in his pincer arm. “Ah, good morning, Sir! Your coffee, 173.5 degrees Fahrenheit. Brewed to perfection!”

“Thanks, Codsworth,” Joe took the mug on the counter and Codsworth filled it with the steaming coffee, then sat down on the couch to watch the morning news. 

He took a sip from his coffee as the reporter began the weather report. Unusually warm for this time of year, but nothing too sweltering. 

Shaun started crying in his room, and Codsworth rushed out of the kitchen to attend to him. 

“ It would also appear our troops stationed overseas are experiencing some unusual weather, as well,” the reporter started. Joe sat up straight. “On the island of Mambajao, the nights are cold. Unseasonably so for Southeast Asia. But for the 5th Infantry, that's as comfortable as an Autumn jamboree.”

Somewhere in the distance, Shaun started crying again. “Sir!” Codsworth shouted from Shaun’s bedroom. Joe heard Codsworth hover into the living room as he stood up from the couch, turning to face the chrome robot. “Shaun has been changed, but he absolutely refuses to calm down. I think he needs some of that ‘paternal affection’ you seem to be so good at.” 

“Alright, I’ll head over,” Joe said, walking down the hallway to Shaun’s room, where he found the three month old crying in his crib. Joe picked up his son, and rocked him back and forth in his arms, humming a vaguely familiar melody that he might’ve heard on the radio half a decade ago.

Down the hall, the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it, hon,” Joe heard Nora say from the bathroom. Nora opened the door, and Joe continued his song to Shaun. “No, we already signed up,” Joe could hear the smile in her voice. A fake smile, but a smile all the same. It was one of the first things he found attractive about her. Nora was always so polite to everyone, especially service workers, or annoying, faceless salesmen. “Thank you,” she said, right as the door closed. 

Joe heard footsteps approaching, and turned to see his wife shut the door to the nursery. “Vault-tec?” He asked, looking up from the baby to smile at her. 

“Yeah, you talked to a representative the other day, right?” She smiled.

Joe laughed, “I sure hope I did.”

Nora’s smile faded from her face and she took a step forward. Joe knew what she would say next. Or, at least what she would ask about next. “Were they bad? Last night?” 

Joe shook his head lightly, and looked back down to his son. “Nothing I can’t handle,” he said, peering into the boy’s eyes. He had Joe’s pale skin and steely grey eyes with Nora’s black hair. The hair only made Shaun’s skin look whiter and his eyes darker.

“You know I’m here for you, right, honey?”

Joe looked back up from the baby. “Sweetheart, you’re the smartest person I know,” she blushed faintly at that, she always did. It was cute. “Of course I know you’re here for me. I’ll come to you if I need help. I promise.” Something in her face told Joe that she knew he was lying. 

Nora smiled sadly and stood on the tips of her toes to kiss him on the cheek. Before she could say anything, however, Codsworth yelled from the other room. “Sir? Mum? You should come see this!” 

Nora’s eyes narrowed the way they did when she was annoyed. “I guess we should see what he needs.” Joe nodded towards the door, which she opened. 

The newscaster was in the middle of the sentence when they entered the living room. “—f ollowed by... yes, followed by flashes. Blinding flashes. Sounds of explosions... We're... we're trying to get confirmation... But we seem to have lost contact with our affiliate stations... W-We do have- we do have... We do have coming in... That's um... confirmed reports. I repeat, confirmed reports of nuclear detonations in New York and Pennsylvania.” The newscaster paused, bringing his hand up to support his head. “My God.”

Joe almost dropped Shaun.

Joe blinked twice. Nora had already flung the door open. She was looking at him, as if expecting a response to something she had said, and Codsworth was placing one of his cold metal arms on Joe’s shoulder. “Sir?” He asked, his voice breaking like he was about to cry. “The vault, sir.” 

It took a moment for Joe to register what the robot had said. The vault? What vault? I don’t remember any vault. 

“Joe, we need to go!” Nora cried from the door. He didn’t even have to look at her to know she was crying, but Joe couldn’t move. He stood there, holding his son in his arms. His muscles refused to move, and his brain was muddied. 

From outside the doors, the thump-thump-thump of a vertibird’s rotors brought Joe back to his senses. Before he knew it, both he and Nora were running through the streets of Sanctuary Hills. They crossed over the wooden footbridge that spanned the stream, a branch off from the Concord River. Joe heard a snap-crack , and a scream from behind them. He turned to see what had happened. The bridge had broken under some woman’s foot. She was on the ground, her leg bent at some ungodly angle.

“Nora!” He called, holding out Shaun to her. “I have to help her.” Before he could hear what she said next, he was running back towards the bridge. 

Nate threw the woman’s arm around his shoulder, and picked her up by her thighs, taking care not to touch the shinbone that had penetrated her skin. He ran up the hill. There was a chain link fence, guarded by three soldiers. Two in power armor. The third was holding a clipboard. Nora was there too, holding Shaun, talking to the clipboard-wielding soldier. “That’s him! My husband!” She shouted.

“Does she have a reservation?” The soldier asked, referring to the woman Joe was holding.

“I-” Joe stuttered. He looked at the woman, she was passed out cold. “I don’t know,”

The soldier swallowed hard before speaking next. “She has to stay,” the man said. “Rules are rules.” He stepped to the side and motioned with his clipboard. “Please, just follow the men in the blue jumpsuits.”

Joe looked up at the soldier, then at Nora, then back down at the woman. He slowly placed her down, and he and Nora ran past the soldier and up the hill, towards the gear-shaped yellow and blue implantation in the hillside.

They arrived just in the nick of time. As soon as they stepped onto the platform, it began lowering into the earth, deeper and deeper.

Joe stared at the sky in silence as they descended. As did Nora, and probably most of their new neighbors. This is it, he thought. Then, a deafening boom from the surface. Gasps and shouts and whispers and cries broke out among the people on the elevator. Seconds later, the whole shaft shook, as if it had fallen off its track. Tons and tons of dirt passed harmlessly over the opening, blocking out the light from the surface. The shockwave made his ears pop, and sent Shaun into a bawling rage. 

Joe looked down at his wife and son. He wrapped his arms around both of them and held them tight. Tighter than he had ever held anything or anyone before. We made it . Thank god, or gods. Whoever was really up there, Joe thanked them in the moment. “I love you so much,” he said into the top of Nora’s head. “So, so much.”

Chapter Text

The descent lasted a couple of minutes, during which Shaun thankfully calmed down. 

The vault door came to a stop in a sort of foyer. An area that led to the rest of Vault 111. Joe, Nora, and Shaun were one of the first to step off the platform and into the vault. The first thing Joe noticed was the cold. Then, the men and women with the bullet-proof plates over their jumpsuits and the 10mm pistols holstered to their hips. Never a good sign, he thought to himself. But they were probably just security for the vault. 

“Right this way, please,” a man in a white lab coat motioned towards a flight of stairs, leading upwards, into the main vault, Joe supposed. He placed a hand on Nora’s shoulder, and together they walked up the stairs. 

They crossed a bridge, which led them across another gear-frame (standing upright, this time). The trio walked through a yellow swinging gate and picked up their jumpsuitsー no, Vaultsuits. That was what the workers were calling them. Then, they were led to changing rooms. A scientist offered to take Shaun, still bundled in blankets from that morning, and Nora hesitantly handed him to her. Joe and Nora closed the curtain to their room. 

“Are you alright, bébé ?” Joe asked his wife softly so as to not be heard through the curtain, placing his hands on her cheeks. 

She wiped a tear from his cheek and smiled sadly. He hadn’t even realised he was crying, but he was surprised to feel his lower lip quiver as soon as he really noticed the tears. “I’m fine, you?” 

Joe’s silence was all she needed. She kissed him softly on the lips. “Let’s get changed and start our life over again,” she said when she pulled away. Joe nodded and smiled, then wiped away his tears. The pair did just that. They pulled on the jumpsuits and pulled back the curtain. The scientist smiled as he handed Shaun back to Nora.

“What a handsome little family,” he said. “Now, if you’ll follow me, we’ll just get you three decontaminated.”

The scientist led them out of the changing area and into a bitterly cold hall, the walls of which were rowed with sealed pods. Decontamination chambers, Joe supposed, but his stomach dropped at the sight all the same. It just seemed so… dystopian.  

Joe recognized some of their old neighbors already sitting in their pods, and some new. The scientist led them down the row to the end of the hallway, and motioned to their two pods, a pair that sat just across from each other. “This is you,” he said with a smile.

“What about Shaun?” Joe asked, motioning towards the baby and his mother. 

“He’ll be okay with his mother,” the scientist smiled again. Cheerful fellow, Joe thought, glancing on the scientist. 

“What about your leg, honey?” Nora asked. Joe looked at the scientist, who glanced down at Joe’s lower half, his eyebrow raised.

“It’s a cybernetic,” Joe explained, trying not to be condescending about it. Or too high and mighty. He knew that some of his wounded comrades liked to flaunt the fact that they had lost something for their country. 

The scientist shook his head. “That shouldn’t be a problem,” he said, smiling once again. “If it is,” he continued, “we have world-class engineers here at Vault-Tec. I’m sure they can fix any mechanical issue you may encounter.”

Joe nodded and turned back to Nora. Just as she took a step forward towards her pod, Shaun began to cry. Nora looked at Joe pleadingly. If he wasn’t hungry, the baby usually responded to him better. Joe stepped forward and placed a hand on his baby’s chest. “It’s okay, Shaun. I’ll be right over there,” he said, pointing to his pod.
Shaun stopped crying when he saw his father, and cooed as he spoke. “I don’t know how you do it,” Nora laughed as the pair walked towards their respective pods. 

Nate sat down in his pod. The door closed in front of him, sealing him inside. “Time for a whole new life,” he muttered to himself. Nora was waving. Joe waved back, and mouthed the words I love you , as the windows began to frost. 

Wait, frost? Was the last thing Joe thought, before his world turned on its head.

Joe came to consciousness slowly. His eyesight slowly faded into focus. He saw Nora and Shaun in the pod across from them. A female figure came into frame, dressed in a light blue jumpsuit. No, more of a haz-mat suit. A hood covered her face completely, and a monocle-like optical device was where one of her eyes should be.

“This is the one, here,” she said, pointing at Nora and Shaun’s pod. Another figure came into frame. A man, bald and dressed in some kind of leather jacket. One of his sleeves seemed to be made of metal, some kind of armor.

“Open it,” the man said. Ice fell off Nora’s pod as it opened slowly. 

Then, Shaun began crying, and Nora coughed. “Are we okay?” She asked. Her voice was like a space heater to Joe, who was currently in a situation where a space heater would be greatly appreciated. “Is it over?”

“Almost,” the man’s rough voice replied. 

The woman reached for Shaun. “Come here, buddy,” Joe heard her say, pulling Shaun towards her.

“No, no, I’ve got him,” Nora said, pulling the baby back to her body. 

Joe banged on his door. “Leave her alone!” He shouted. The man turned towards him, then back towards Nora. He was holding a gun now, and pointing it at her. 

“Let the boy go,” he said, pulling back the hammer. “I’m only gonna tell you once.”

Joe could see Nora’s eyes widen, but she held onto their baby as the woman tried to pull Shaun away. Joe kept banging on the window, trying to draw their attention to him. “Let them go!” He shouted.

“I’m not giving you Shaun!” Nora yelled, right before a gunshot. Joe screamed. He was punching the glass now. He had to break it. He had to kill this son of a bitch who killed Nora. 

The son of a bitch walked up to the glass, and smiled. It distorted the scar that ran down his face. Joe didn’t hear what he said. He couldn’t hear anything. But he did see the glass crack right before everything faded away once again. 

The door opened before Joe had fully awakened. 

He must have been slumped on the glass, because he fell out of the pod as the door opened. He threw out his arms, but they buckled under his weight. He fell to his side, and vomited a rancid, viscous black liquid. 

Then, it all came to him. Joe struggled to get to his feet, but he couldn’t feel his legs so the effort just ended up in him laying on his stomach. He dragged himself across the chamber, reaching up at Nora’s pod. “Come on, there has to be a fucking release,” he gasped. The effort was winding him. 

There. The red lever on the side of the pod. Joe reached up to it, using a handle on the pod for support and pulled it down. Ice fell off the pod again, and steam came out of the sides. 

Joe could feel one of his legs coming back to life, so he stood slowly on his right. The left hung limply in its socket. Joe’s remaining leg gave out, and he fell onto Nora’s body. Her jumpsuit was icy, and her skin was bone cold.

“Please Nora,” he begged, the tears falling from his eyes. “Please, baby.” He knew it wouldn’t help. There was blood frozen onto the back of the pod. “Please, honey.” He saw her on the day they met, on the day she moved to Boston to be with him, “Please,” on their first date, when he got back from his first deployment, when he proposed, on their wedding day, on the day she said she was pregnant, the day Shaun was born. “Please, I can’t do this without you,” was the last thing he remembered saying.

When he awoke, he was slumped against the pod. Her pod. She was still in it. She hadn’t gotten up. She’d never get up. But he had to move on. For her. Joe slowly struggled to his feet. He reached behind her and leaned into her. “I’m going to find the man who did this. And I’m going to fucking kill him,” he whispered into her ear. “I swear.” 

He stayed like that for what felt like hours, but what was probably only minutes, before he slowly stood pushed away from the pod and turned to look down the main hallway. “This is it,” he muttered, and took what felt like his first steps down the rows of decontamination.

He looked into the windows on the other pods. Not a single person moved. They were all dead, or frozen. Frozen, he thought, they fucking froze us. Jesus christ.

Those people didn’t come from the vault. There was no way they came from the vault, Joe thought to himself. He would have to go above. Back outside. Yes, that’s where I’ll go. Outside,   The thought made him nervous. School and the military taught him that after a certain amount of time, the area around the explosion would be inhabitable, but he had no idea how long had passed. Or even where the fucking explosion had happened.

Joe made his way to the door the scientist had led them through. It was shut, so Joe pulled on its release lever. All he got in response was a buzz, and a female voice playing over the speakers. “Malfunction. Emergency exit door override. Please contact your Vault-tec maintenance representative.”

“Useless,” Joe said. He turned around, looking for another way out. Joe must have been focused on the main door, because he completely disregarded the side door just a moment ago. That one opened with a control panel on the side. 

Joe turned the corner, and found another door. He opened it, and found himself in a small room. There was a terminal and a desk, but not much else. The terminal came to life after a few bangs on the keyboard. The first page read:

Vault 111 is designed to test the long-term effects of suspended animation on unaware, human subjects. Security staff are responsible for maintaining installation integrity and monitoring science staff activity.

Under no circumstances are staff allowed to deviate from assigned duties. Insubordination or interference with vault operations are capital offenses. Security staff are authorized to use lethal force.

Joe almost got sick. These bastards would have left us here to die. He read through the pathways on the terminal. The first one held basic instructions for the staff, about their roles and the rules and such, but the second was interesting. Security logs. It looked like when the all-clear signal never arrived, the security staff mutinied. 

Joe stepped away from the terminal when he was done with it. He continued down the hallway, until he came across two doorways. One was open and led into what looked like a kind of canteen, and the other was closed. That wasn’t unusual, but what came out of the open door was.

A huge cockroach. Probably about the size of the terminal screen crawled out from under the canteen table. It scurried around for a moment noticing Joe. The two organisms seemed to make a mutual agreement for a moment, until Joe took a step away. The roach leapt forward. Joe put his arms up in defense. It landed on his forearms, and stuck. It was biting him. 

Joe acted quickly, and flung himself around. The roach couldn’t hold on, and flew towards the other door, smashing into it and sending strange, brown juices everywhere. Giant roaches. My day keeps getting better and better.  

Joe passed through a generator room and opened the closed door on the other side. “Now this is what I’m talking about.” A pistol and three stimpacks laid on a desk just inside the room. And a skeleton, dressed in a white lab coat. 

Joe picked up the pistol and weighed it in his hands. It was loaded with twelve 10mm rounds. He walked around the desk and knelt down to search it. He found more bullets, but not much else. There was a caged room next to the desk, though. The door swung open with some resistance. 

All that was inside was a few more rounds, an extra pistol (which he grabbed) and an interesting looking device locked up in a cage. 

Joe exited the armory and walked back into the main office. He turned on the terminal on the desk and read through the entries. Looks like the mutiny did happen, and the overseer held out for a siege in his office. Joe looked down at the corpse, and remembered the kindly man who led him and Nora into the vault. Who held their son. “I hope you died in fear,” Joe said to the corpse, before shooting a 10mm round into the skull, for good measure. 

Joe undressed the skeleton, and slipped the lab coat over his jumpsuit. He stuffed the stimpacks into one pocket and the bullets into another. Joe turned back to the terminal and opened the evacuation tunnel. He walked into a hallway, infested with the giant roaches. The sight sent shivers down Joe’s spine. He leveled his pistol and began shooting. 

They were all dead in moments. Just one shot seemed to do for the insects, no matter the size, thankfully. He walked through the corpses, through a door, and into the vault’s entrance. 

Two more roaches were dispatched easily enough. Joe walked onto the control platform, which was already occupied by a skeleton. Jesus. Did anyone survive? 

He examined the yellow control panel. Probably what opens the door, he thought, but how?

He looked down at the corpse. A pip-boy was latched onto a detached forearm. He picked up the watch, and the forearm fell out of the latch. He put it on his own wrist, loosening it to fit the size of his arm. Joe turned the pip-boy around on his wrist. He tapped one of the buttons and it came to life. Tiny needles poked into Joe’s skin as the system ran diagnostics, on itself and him. 

When the pip-boy finished booting up, it showed he had suffered minor radiation damage, but was in otherwise perfect health. Joe flicked through the tabs till one showed the date. 9/23/2287. Joe felt himself stumble. He caught onto the railing behind him. 2287. 210 years.  

He swallowed hard, closing his eyes to digest the information. “Two hundred and ten fucking years,” he said aloud, as if hearing it from himself would make it somehow believable.

Joe stood there a moment, in shock, before he remembered his task. 

Kill the son of a bitch who killed Nora. 

Joe pulled on a wire that came out of the back of the pip-boy, and some kind of plug came out. It looked like it would fit into a hole on the control panel, so he stuck them together. The plastic casing on the big red button flipped open. “Bingo.” Joe hit the button. 

Klaxons blared, and the female voice from before said, “Vault door cycling sequence initiated. Please, stand back.” A machine pushed itself into the gear-shaped door, and the gear rolled on its side out of the way. A retractable bridge moved forward into the elevator room.

Joe walked across the bridge, and onto the elevator. It must have been weight sensitive and been triggered by the door opening, because the elevator began the slow ride upwards just as he stepped on it. Here we go.  

Chapter Text

The platform doors opened above him, and a light flooded the elevator shaft. As the platform got closer and closer to the surface, the light only got brighter and brighter and more and more unbearable. 

Then, he was above the surface. 

Joe’s senses were overwhelmed. A gust of cold wind blew at his face as soon as he resurfaced, and the air smelt and tasted like ozone. But most of all, the sun blinded him. He shut his eyes almost immediately, both because of the intensity, and because he didn’t want to see what his home had become. What was left of the world. Not just yet. 

Joe was surprised that anything was left at all, but he knew that some people were alive. At the very least, that bald bastard and the woman in the hazmat suit were alive. They had to be. 

So he could kill them. 

When Joe opened his eyes again, he did so excruciatingly slowly. The light slowly became less and less intense, until his eyes were completely open, and he could take in his whole surroundings. 

The world looked dead, to put it bluntly. The chainlink fence that separated Vault-Tec property from the wilderness outside Sanctuary Hills was rusted, and was torn apart. The grass and trees were dead, or they looked dead. And what he could see of Sanctuary Hills itself, was, disheartening, if not depressing. Most of the houses looked still intact, if only by the merit that they were upright, but all of the intact houses were rusted. Holes littered the roofs, and some walls, and what he could see of the road was dilapidated. 

Nevertheless, he almost ran towards the neighborhood. That was his home, where he was supposed to raise his son and grow old with his life. But no. That was stupid. First of all, there was a cliff between the platform and the neighborhood. Secondly, he had no idea what he would be running into. 

So, Joe turned around, examining the area behind him with his 10mm in hand. He patted the lab coat pockets, just to make sure nothing had fallen out. Bullets in one pocket, and stims in the other. Good. 

Joe stepped off the platform, and felt the dirt crunch underneath the footies of the jumpsuit. Shoes are a priority , he took note, and some real armor. He missed his combat armor, but even cobbled together metal would do fine for the moment. 

Joe explored the area around the platform carefully, and found nothing that seemed harmful on his initial walkthrough. Next was to find anything he could use. There were a couple boxes strewn about the place that could contain something. Joe cracked one open to be met with… nothing. He weighed the pros and cons of opening the second box, and decided that there was almost zero cons and an infinite number of pros, so be cracked that one open too. Jackpot. Three bottles of Rad-X and another stimpack. He stuffed them all into his ‘Aid’ pocket, and continued searching. 

Not much else of note was found, other than a bottle of Nuka-cola in the elevator control room. Joe raised his eye inquisitively when he found it. The wrapper had fallen off, but the cap was unrecognizable. He gingerly twisted open the bottle and took a sniff. It didn’t smell any different, at least. 

After a moment’s deliberation, Joe put his lips to the bottle and drank a swig from the cola. The sugary drink fizzed in his mouth. It tasted nutty, and vaguely like vanilla. Still good. He finished the bottle right there. It wasn’t a beer, which is what Joe truly wanted, but it was close enough for the moment.

When the drink was done, Joe made his way towards the gate where he and his family had entered. He paused as he walked through. Two skeletons laid at the gate. The soldier with the clipboard was one of them. Joe knelt down to examine him. All the patches were faded, or had disappeared, and he had nothing of value. 

The second skeleton almost made him cry. It was the woman he had left behind. Definitely. Her dress, though faded, was the same. And her leg was broken in two. Joe drew a shaky breath, before slowly continuing on.

He walked slowly down the hill, pausing to examine the world around him as he went. Some kind of purple was growing on a small tree just by the bridge, and when Joe broke a branch off a tree, its insides looked still-living, despite the tree’s outward appearance. That gave Joe pause. He tried to remember his high school biology classes. Chlorophyll made plants green, and the interior of the twig he snagged still had a green tint, but none of the grass or plants had any part resembling the color. The plants must have evolved not to use chlorophyll on exterior cells. Or something like that. After a few moments of brain-piercing knowledge retrieval, Joe tossed the stick aside, and made his way towards Sanctuary Hills again. 

He crossed over the footbridge and walked slowly between two houses and into the neighborhood, pistol leveled. Joe quickly took cover on the corner of one of the houses. He scanned the area in front of him, towards the Old North Bridge. No one. 

Joe took a deep breath, and swept around the corner, towards his old home, gun ready. What he saw almost made him fall over. “Codsworth?” He shouted down the road. Joe began to run forward, forgetting where he was. “Codsworth!”

The robot was right where they left him. Outside Joe and Nora’s home, trimming the dead-looking plants that still remained in the front garden. The robot had rusted over the years, and he seemed to have replaced one of his manipulators with a buzzsaw. 

“Mr. Murphy?” Codsworth said, when he registered the figure running towards him. Joe tackled Codsworth in a hug, tears streaming down his eyes. “Sir!” Codsworth exclaimed in response.

Joe pulled away from the robot, and rubbed the tears from his eyes. “Codsworth, I can’t believe you’re alive!”

“Of course I’m alive! Surely you don’t think a little radiation would deter General Atomics’s finest! But you seem a little worse for wear. Best not let the missus see you in that state. Where is the lady, by the way?”

Joe’s smile suddenly faded, and he felt the tears coming back on. He fought to hold them back. “She…” Joe couldn’t find the words for a moment, they got lost in his emotion-addled brain. “Oh Codsworth,” Joe wrapped his arms around the robot again, not caring about the heat emitting from his thruster.

“Sir?” Codsworth asked, his voice breaking like he was about to cry.

“She’s dead, Codsworth,” Joe whimpered into Codsworth’s metal plating. “They killed her.” He pulled away, suddenly hopeful. “Did you see them? Anyone coming from the Vault?” He paused, trying to remember the details of the murderers. “They had guns, and strange outfits?”

“Only Ms. Rosa’s boy, running around in his halloween costume, more than a week early. I swear, the nerves of that woman to leave her boy unsupervised.” 

Joe shook his head, and buried his face in his hands. “Oh, this can’t be fucking happening,” he whispered. “She’s dead.”

“Sir, these things you’re saying. These terrible things… I believe you need a distraction. Yes! A distraction, to calm this dire mood.”
But Joe never heard what the distraction was. He fell to the ground. Unconscious before he hit the ground.

Joe awoke, facing the tattered ceiling. His head was killing him, and he was freezing. He shut his eyes again. Then opened them. It wasn’t a dream.

Joe sat up, looking around. He was in his home, on the couch in the living room. His old home, on his old couch in his old living room. Joe could hear Codsworth floating somewhere in the house. His engines hummed, filling the air around him.

“Codsworth?” Joe called out, “can I have some water?” 

“Of Course, sir.”

Only a moment later, Codsworth returned, holding a bottle of canned water in his pincer arm. He placed it on the table, and stayed beside Joe as he cracked it open and took a swig.

“Sir… I…” Codsworth paused, apparently unable to find his words. “I searched the neighborhood. Nora and Shaun… are nowhere to be found.”

Joe nodded, and smiled sadly. “Thanks, buddy.” 

“If you don’t mind me asking, sir. You said they died, what happened?”

Joe spilled it all out. Everything, from the woman on the bridge, to the explosion, to the cryogenesis chambers, to Nora’s death and Shaun’s abduction, all the way until just before they met. Codsworth listened intently. It’s not like he had anything else to do. And he comforted Joe during the multiple times he started crying.

When Joe was finished, he sat there, crying for what felt like days, but was probably just minutes. When he finished, Codsworth cleared his throat. “Sir… I… I found this, some time ago.” Joe hadn’t even noticed the holotape sitting on the table until Codsworth picked it up, and held it out to him. 

“What… what is it?” He asked, taking the holotape from Codsworth’s pincer.

“I believe it is a private message for you, sir. My etiquette protocol would not allow me to listen to it, but your Pip-boy should have a standard holotape reading slot.

Joe held the holotape in his hand delicately, as if it would break at the slightest force. “Thank you, Codsworth,” he muttered, staring at the tape.

Joe blinked, and his attention returned to the robot. “Do you know where I can find any people?” He asked, remembering his mission. “Anyone at all.”

Codsworth didn’t respond immediately, as if thinking about the answer. “Well, you could try the people in Concord. They’ve only shot at me a few times!”

Joe nodded, and smiled. “Thanks, Codsworth.”

Soon, he had left, heading South over the Old North Bridge and straight into a corpse. This one looked fresh. The blood was still wet around the bite wounds that must have killed the man, and the blade that stuck out of the hound. 

Joe stripped them both of anything valuable. The man had a sleeveless leather coat, which Joe slipped over his lab coat for both storage purposes and for warmth, thick trousers, a pair of boots that Joe gladly slipped over his footies, and a gun belt. Joe’s pistol fit snugly into the holster, and he put his extra magazines into the belt as well. He also buttoned up his lab coat, to keep out the cold.

As Joe walked past the truck stop just beyond the bridge, he heard a bark. Joe turned sharply towards the truck stop, only to be met with a german shepherd. It was staring at him, and wagging its tail. Joe knelt to the dog’s level and held out a handful of sugar bombs from Codsworth’s foraging trip when Joe was unconscious. The dog carefully walked towards Joe and sniffed his hand, then gleefully ate the cereal straight from his palm.

Joe smiled, and patted the dog’s broadside. “Good boy,” he said, smiling widely. “Now stay here, alright?” The dog cocked his head. Joe backed away slowly, and turned back towards Concord. Not long after, he noticed a strange site.

Two huge insects, mosquitos, by the looks of them sucking the blood from a cow that looked like it had all of its skin burned off. “Jesus,” Joe muttered. He shot one, and it went down quickly. The other mosquito was more of a problem, however. The first had been staying relatively still, but the second was a moving target, and a smart one at that. It zig-zagged as it charged Joe, dodging every shot he made. But it couldn’t dodge the dog, which came sprinting at the bug. He jumped, catching the mosquito by the wing in his mouth and pulling it out of the air. 

Joe saw the dog step in the mosquito with his front paw, crushing its fragile body under his weight. Joe exhaled a breath that he didn’t even realize he was holding in. Well, I wish we had one of these in the Army . Maybe if we had, I would still have my…

His thoughts were interrupted with another, more intrusive one. I haven’t felt anything in my leg since the Vault. Joe pushed down on his left leg through the Vault suit. He didn’t feel any pressure whatsoever. Okay, he thought, it still moves, and responds to my will. That means I need to keep moving. The pressure sensors were broken, but that wouldn’t stop him. Not now, at least. Later, he would try to sort it out, but now he had to keep moving. 

As Joe moved closer to the town, the sounds of gunfire grew louder and louder. Mostly automatic shots, but occasionally the thunder of what had to be some kind of laser, but one Joe had never heard in his life.

Joe crept slowly towards the main street, where the fire seemed to be coming from. His new dog trailed slowly behind him. Joe turned around a corner, and found himself staring right at the Museum of Freedom. There were people outside of it, shooting upwards towards the balcony where the Mayor had announced the dedication of the museum to Joe when he returned home from Alaska. 

“Hey, look!” One of the men on the ground shouted. Shots exploded on the ground around Joe, and he was snapped back to reality. Joe dove for cover behind a rusty old car. Joe could hear more shots hit the hull of the car, but it seemed that most of the fire was concentrated towards the museum. The dog stayed behind the corner he had walked out from behind.

“Lenny, kill that bastard!” Joe heard someone shout. He peered under the car, and saw the boots of someone approaching, presumably hostile. He sat back up against the car and blew out a breath, and watched the frosty air dissipate in front of him. 

Joe popped out from behind the car, catching the bad guy by surprise. He was down in two shots. The other’s didn’t seem to notice, because none of them turned around to investigate. Joe walked slowly towards the other hostiles, until he was close enough to comfortably shoot with the close ranged pistol. And so, he did. With the help of the thundering laser weapon, Joe dispatched the remaining hostiles easily. When that was over, he turned his pistol up the balcony. “Who the hell are you?” He shouted upwards.

“Please!” Was all he got in response. “Grab that laser musket and help me! I’m almost overrun! Please!” Joe couldn’t tell if the despair in the man’s voice was legitimate, but he had to help, right? The man on top of the balcony turned hastily towards the door. 

“Laser musket?” Joe whispered, confused. What the hell is a- Joe noticed the weapon on the ground. I guess that’s a laser musket.

He placed his pistol into his holster and picked up the rifle. It had a wooden stock, and the barrel looked like that of a regular laser weapon. Attached to the barrel was some kind of glass chamber, and coming out of the chamber was some kind of crank, connected to some gears. Joe turned the crank, and the chamber began to glow red. He pulled the trigger, and a beam of solid red light emitted from the barrel. He twisted the crank again, reloading the weapon, but this time turned it an extra time, which only seemed to make the chamber glow brighter. Joe shot again, and this time the beam hit the corner of a building, knocking a small slab of concrete out of place. 

Joe looked down at the dog, who had been standing a few yards behind him. “Stay here, I don’t want you getting hurt.”

The museum had fallen into disrepair, obviously. But what was more concerning was the man just inside the doorway, turned away from Joe as he slowly stepped into the museum. Joe aimed the musket, and fired a shot off. It obliterated the man’s back. Burning through flesh, muscle and bone like it was nothing. “I can get used to this,” Joe muttered as he made his way into the colonial exhibit. 

The other hostiles in the museum were a piece of cake. Joe used his training to feign, flank, or otherwise trick the men and women who were laying siege to one of the upstairs rooms, until it was just him, the man from the balcony, and the locked door between them.

“Who are you?” The man shouted from the room inside. “Where are you from?”

“I…” Joe paused for a moment, deciding on an answer. “Sanctuary Hills. It’s just a few minutes North.” Joe heard the door unlock. It opened slowly. The barrel of a laser musket stuck out of the crack. All Joe could see of the face was a dark brown eye, reflecting the red glow of the musket. His seemed brighter than Joe’s.

Joe raised his left hand and slowly lowered his musket to the ground. “Sanctuary Hills?” The stranger asked. 

Joe nodded, and the man opened the door completely. He motioned for Joe to enter, which he obliged. The man was black, and wore a hat that covered his hair. He dressed like some kind of colonial cosplayer. He wore leather gloves on his hands, a long, tan coat that covered some kind of blue and gold embroidered waistcoat. A thin scar traveled down the side of his face, from temple to jaw. 

The man held out a gloved hand. “Lieutenant Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen.” Ah, that explains the getup.

Joe took his hand. “Joe,” he said simply, locking eyes with the man. There was an emptiness to them. They were bloodshot, like he had been crying. 

Garvey nodded, and motioned towards the window. More of the hostiles were gathering outside, behind makeshift barricades. “We scared the raiders,” Garvey stated, as the pair looked out the window. 

“Probably a little too much.”

“Agreed, so what do we do?” It sounded like Garvey already knew the answer, but he was asking Joe anyway.

“Prepare for a siege?” 

Garvey smiled. “On the contrary. There’s a crashed Vertibird up on the roof. Pre-war. Assuming it survived, that means-”

“A minigun,” Joe finished, raising an eyebrow. Garvey nodded.

“A minigun,” Preston confirmed. “If we can get it and its stand out of the bird, and in here, we can take them all out from the balcony.”

Joe nodded, and smiled. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Don’t be long,” Garvey said, as Joe left the room and headed to the roof. 

The sight on the roof made his eyes widen. The minigun was fine, but there was something else too. A full set of T-45 power armor. A little rusted, but otherwise it seemed to be in great condition. 

Joe ran back inside to tell Garvey, who reacted slightly more skeptically. “You’ll need a fusion core to run it.” 

Joe had already thought of it. “There’s one downstairs. If we can pick the lock on the gate, we can get through to it.”

“I can’t pick a lock,” Garvey responded.

“No, but I can.” It was a half truth, but half truths were what they had right now. Joe had picked a lock before, once because he had locked himself out of his house as a preteen and his neighbor happened to be in the mood to teach him, and the second time because he and Nora had got in a mishap in her dorm room when they were just a pair of eighteen year olds over two hundred years ago. 

Jesus, he had forgotten about that. 

Joe was able to figure out the lock easily enough. It wasn’t anything high-grade. About what you’d expect from an over budget museum in a small town. He snagged the fusion core and stopped by Garvey’s room to let him know to get into position on the balcony.

Joe left his rifle in Garvey’s room, and headed back upstairs. He slipped the core inside the armor, and gave a moment’s pause. After his leg, he never expected to get back inside one of these things again. He had always hated power armor. It felt like walking around in a coffin. Especially after seeing the bodies of the soldiers in armor after a vertibird crash.

He pushed the intrusive thoughts aside, and stepped inside the armor. Joe yanked the minigun off its housing and let fire rain on the so-called raiders. The first one was on a room just across the museum, and the others were on the street. Joe and Garvey had killed almost all of the raiders when the Earth rumbled. 

A roar erupted from down the street, and remaining raiders ran. 

“Joe!” Preston screamed from the balcony. “Get back inside, now!” His last words were drowned out by an explosion. No, not an explosion. Out of the metal sewer cover down the street came some kind of prehistoric beast. A huge grey lizard with claws the size of Joe’s head erupted from the street. Joe’s eyes widened inside the helmet. “Run! I’ll cover!” Preston screamed, before shooting his musket at the beast. Joe was happy to oblige, especially after seeing the lizard take a shot from a laser that he had seen eat through men like they were paper as if it were nothing. 

He ran, but nowhere near fast enough. The beast caught up with him in seconds. He felt himself being lifted off the ground, and thrown into the car he had taken cover behind. Broken glass and metal fell off him as the lizard lifted him up again. Preston fired another shot, and the lizard dropped Joe back onto the car and let out a deafening roar.

In a split second, it was over. Joe reached for his minigun, and as the beast moved to pick him back up, Joe shoved the minigun under its chin and opened up. 

Joe fell back to the ground, but scrambled to his feet as quickly as the armor allowed him to. He aimed the minigun and fired, and didn’t stop firing until the barrel of the gun glowed bright orange.

By then, the lizard was definitely dead. Its horns were the only thing that remained of its head. Joe dropped the minigun, and exited the armor. “Joe!” Preston shouted. He sounded closer than before, on the balcony. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he shouted back, turning to see Garvey running down main street, two laser muskets in hand. Preston came to a stop in front of Joe, and held out his rifle. Joe accepted it, grateful to have a gun that he can actually carry now, without being inside a walking death trap.

Preston looked at the body of the lizard, then at Joe. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath. “You just killed a deathclaw.”

“Is that what they’re called?” 

Preston looked at Joe quizzically. “Are you not from around here, or something?” 

Joe shook his head and opened his lab coat, revealing his vault suit. Preston’s eyes widened. “You’re a Vault dweller?” He asked, apparently shocked.

“Are you surprised?” Joe asked.

“Most Vault dwellers I’ve met are…” Joe raised an eyebrow at Preston’s pause. “They don’t know one end of a gun from the other.”

Joe scoffed somberly. “Well, I guess I’m a special case.”

Preston shrugged, and paused for a moment. “You said you were from a place called Sanctuary Hills, to the North?”

“Yeah,” Joe answered. “What about it?”

Preston paused another moment. “I was sent on a survey to find a safe place to settle a group of civilians and General of the Minutemen. In my… briefing, a place called Sanctuary was specifically mentioned.” Preston drew breath, wincing as if anticipating a blow. “Do you mind if I travel back there with you?”

Joe squinted for a moment, and nodded. “Of course, Preston,” he decided. “We’ll head back now?”
Preston nodded, and the pair began their walk back North. On the way, Preston told Joe what had happened to him. He had been sent out with three other Minutemen to find this so-called Sanctuary in the North of the Commonwealth (Joe assumed that was a shortening of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts). One of his companions had died in Boston, another to ghouls (Joe made a mental note to ask later) in Lexington, and the other in Concord, just outside the Museum of Freedom. The General (leader of the Minutemen, Joe assumed. Or at least an officer) was in a place called Diamond City, with the apparently small remainder of the Minuteman forces, and a group of civilians looking to resettle.

Apparently the Minutemen had been headquartered in Quincy. An attack had forced them to evacuate and migrate North, into Boston, which apparently was a whole other kind of dangerous. 

Somewhere along the way, the dog Joe had left outside the Museum had joined back up with them. He had blood around his snout, but no wound, as far as Joe could tell. The trio arrived at Sanctuary in the early evening. 

“Sir!” Codsworth greeted Joe as he walked into the house. “I see you made a friend!” He exclaimed when he saw the dog that trailed behind Joe, and then as Preston entered, “And one who might help!”

“Help?” Preston asked, raising his brow at Joe, disregarding the fact that Joe had a robot butler. 

Joe looked at Codsworth, then back to Preston. “I’m looking for the man who killed my wife.”

Preston nodded solemnly. “Oh. I understand, I’ve lost people too. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

And that was the end of that. Codsworth made the pair dinner on a fire Joe built in the yard, some kind of meat that Preston said was called Radroach (the huge roaches Joe had killed in the Vault, presumably) and then they went to bed in a pair of sleeping bags Codsworth had managed to dredge up with a cheerful “These will preserve body heat for the night!” Another gratefully dreamless night later, and Joe was awake, watching the sun rise through the windows of the house, wondering Why me?  

Chapter Text

Joe had been awake for an hour and a half before Preston woke up. He heard the other man murmur the seepings through of his memory into his REM state. Orders mostly. Get to cover , and Get General Becker out of here , but occasionally names. One in particular, Jacob. He repeated ‘Jacob’ at least fifty times in the ninety minutes. 

They were close, Joe realized as he stared upward, listening to Preston mutter the name of his fallen comrade. He must have been killed in the battle he was reliving. Joe knew that feeling all too well. The same nightmares had haunted him for years. Not every night, but most. 

When Preston got out of his sleeping bag, Joe did too. “Ah, sirs,” Codsworth greeted them. “Would you like to eat breakfast?” 

“Sure,” Joe responded. Codsworth turned and began rooting around in the kitchen. Preston and Joe had slept in the living room, with Joe on the couch and Preston (and the dog) on the floor. This was in part because there was no other bed in the house, and because, even if they didn’t admit it, both man felt better knowing that if they were attacked, they would have each other within arm’s reach. 

Codsworth placed a box of sugar bombs on the bar. “Here you go! No milk, unfortunately, but I hear they taste great anyway!”  Joe sat on the remaining barstool, and Preston pulled up a surviving chair that had no back. 

Joe thanked Codsworth, and they ate in silence, both still recovering from post-sleep drowsiness. A couple of times, Preston drew breath, as if he were about to speak, but abandoned the idea. When they were finished, though, Preston finally spoke. “So… I was wondering, could we settle here? The Minutemen, I mean.” 

Joe nodded. “Of course, Preston. I’ll clear out today, get out of your hair.” Get out of this cursed house, was what he meant, but he didn’t say it. 

“No,” Preston quickly responded. “I mean, if you want. But…” He trailed off. “You should meet the General.”

Joe’s eyes narrowed. “Why?” 

Preston shrugged. “I just think you should. I think you’ll get along with him, as crazy as it sounds.”

Joe thought for a moment, until a thought crossed into his head. Maybe this General can help me find the bastard who killed Nora, and took Shaun. “Alright, Lieutenant Garvey.”

Preston smiled. “We can leave for D.C. today, if you’re up for it.”

Joe nodded. “Let’s go.” 

Joe had to admit, he was morbidly curious to see the rest of the Commonwealth. Boston had once been his home. He had lived there his whole life. Sure, it had been chewed up and spat back out, but Fenway Park would still be Fenway Park. And if Fenway had been turned into rubble, it would still be rubble from Fenway, and he had to know. 

They had packed up what things they would by 8AM, mostly water and spare food, because the laser muskets didn’t require ammunition. Joe’s pistol, however, did, so he carried the magazines he already had in his gun belt. “Hold down the fort while we’re gone, Codsworth,” Joe told the robot as he lifted up his musket. 

“Of course, sir,” Codsworth said gleefully. He must be glad to have someone to work for again, it’s his purpose.  

“Maybe get a few of the other houses cleaned up, get them ready for visitors.”

“Yes, sir,” Codsworth agreed. 

With that, Joe, the dog, and Preston began their long walk Southward. As they crossed over the bridge, Joe realized that Preston walked with his rifle already charged, so he spun his around twice. At Joe’s request, they would pass through Concord, to loot the raiders there for any armor or clothes he could use. He had shed the lab coat, so he was just wearing the jumpsuit and the clothes from the corpse in front of the bridge. 

The walk to Concord was short and uneventful. The dog ran ahead, scouting the area in front of them, and Joe and Preston trailed behind. When they got to Concord, the pair split up to look for supplies. Joe searched the bodies inside the Museum, while Preston and the dog searched those outside. 

Joe mostly found nothing except a little information. The raiders used what looked to be homemade pistols and rifles made of mostly rusted steel and wood and fired .38 rounds. The fact that the guns were homemade told Joe that there must be someone making the guns, somewhere. Other than that though, Joe had found nothing. 

Preston and the dog were more lucky. When they reunited outside, Preston was holding some kind of leather armor, which Joe gratefully put on. That was when Joe’s heart started pounding, and he started feeling light. He looked to Preston, he was drinking water out of a canteen. There was a drop of water trailing from his mouth to his chin. When they met eyes, Preston froze. Then, a fountain of red mist erupted from Preston’s arm. He dropped the canteen. 

“Get inside,” Joe shouted, grabbing his arm, pulling him towards the corner shop in front of the Museum. Joe propped him up against the service counter of the old store. He picked up Preston’s hands and pushed against the wound on his shoulder. “Keep pressure, I’ll be back.” Preston nodded. 

Joe sprinted up the stairs, towards the rooftop. He dove behind the sloped parapet. Joe peeked above the roof, looking for threats. He counted one on the roof opposite where he was, and another about halfway across street, heading towards Preston. Joe didn’t have much time. If he aimed at the man on the street, he would be vulnerable to the one on the roof, and if he fired at the one on the roof, the one on the street would get to Preston. 

Thankfully, Joe didn’t need to make the choice. The dog ran at the raider on the street, tackling him and began mauling his upper body. The guy on the rooftop didn’t have any time to react, Joe’s laser spanned the street barely half a second after he had realized what had attacked the raider on the street. 

Joe dropped his rifle immediately and ran down the stairs, then out the door, onto the street.  “Get back,” he shouted at the dog, pulling out his 10mm and aiming it at the wounded man. 

“Who are you?” He shouted, aiming at the man’s head. 

“Go to hell.” In response, Joe placed his boot on one of the man’s torso scratches. The message was clear. You’re not dead yet, asshole. The raider screamed in response. 

“Who. Are. You?” Joe repeated.

“We were in Gristle’s gang! Arthur wanted to get back at you, so I-” The man was cut off by a gunshot, and then the only sound he was making was the sound of blood and brain matter dripping out of a cavity in the back of his head. 

Joe ran back inside, and knelt beside Preston. His right arm was covered in blood now, but he was still conscious. “Fuck,” Joe muttered, looking around for something to make a bandage out of,“hold on.” He ran back outside and tore off a length of the wounded man’s shirt before running back inside.

“Here,” he said. He tied a makeshift bandage around Preston’s shoulder out of the cloth. “You should be fine. I’ve seen wounds like this before. Let’s get back to Codsworth.” 

“I’m fine, I’ve survived wounds like this before,” Preston said, using his other arm to pull himself up from the counter. “Me and the dog can go back to Sanctuary. You continue on.” Joe realized that, yeah, Preston probably had survived wounds like this before, and so had most people in the Commonwealth, most likely. 

“I don’t know where to go.”

“Just go South, over the Charles and into the city. There’ll be signs. Avoid Cambridge and Lexington, and be quiet crossing the bridge with the Riptide.” 

Joe nodded, and handed Preston one of the raider’s discarded pistols. “You won’t be able to shoot a rifle with that arm,” he explained. 

“Take my rifle, then. It’s better than yours. It cranks four times.” 

Joe laughed. “I didn’t even try to crank mine more than twice.”

“Good. It would have blown up.” 

Joe’s eyebrows furrowed together in question, and Preston nodded and smiled in response. 

They were about to split it, when Preston handed Joe some kind of medallion. A bottle cap, painted blue, with some kind of logo painted in white. A rifle, crossed with a lightning bolt, with three stars flanking the cross on the top and sides. “Give this to the General when you find him, tell him ‘Tonight the American flag floats from yonder hill, or Molly Stark sleeps a widow.’” 

“A secret password and everything?” Joe joked, smiling a little.

Preston smiled, or winced. “Oh, and they’re staying in the Santangelo Hotel. Don’t forget, avoid Cambridge and Lexington, and stay quiet near the Riptide.”

Joe did exactly what Preston told him to. Around Lexington, he skirted around the outskirts of the town, not too far that he couldn’t disappear into the urban rises if he had to, but far enough so that anyone in the heart of the city wouldn’t notice, and did the same outside Cambridge. It was around Cambridge that his still-numb leg was starting to get at him at this point. He knew it was still there, and thank God he could control it, but it felt like there was nothing there again. At all. Like he had lost that piece of him all over again. 

Joe tried to swallow the thought, and the memory, as he approached the Harvard Bridge. A tugboat seemed to have crashed into the drawbridge. As quietly as he could, Joe decided to check out what he would be dealing with through Preston’s scope. It looked like the faded paint on the broadside read U.S.S. Riptide . There were people on the ship, assumedly hostile, based on Preston’s warning. At least one was wearing power armor, and the others looked better armored than any of the raiders Joe and Preston had dealt with in Concord. He made a mental note to thank Preston for the warning later, and crept over the bridge, into Boston proper. 

The poppoppop of distance automatic gunfire was immediately recognizable to Joe. He could make out wording on a sign up ahead. Now that’s funny, he thought. The sign posted on an abandoned shop front wall read Diamond City in bold words, with an arrow pointing towards the Fenway Park’s main entrance. 

Unfortunately for Joe, the arrow also pointed in the direction of the automatic gunfire before. He took cover behind a half-missing wall, and surveyed the battle. He could see only the shooters on the ground. Men and women with the same design of weapons he had seen on the raiders, dressed in faded umpire’s gear with a diamond painted on their front. The good guys, then .

Joe peeked Preston’s rifle over the rubble to look at the baddies. Holy shit. Half a dozen huge, hulking green monstrosities, holed up in some burned out apartment building. Even at six foot two, Joe would have seemed short by the side of these beings. He quickly took aim at one, and shot. The being stumbled in response to the shot, but recovered quickly. By then, Joe had reloaded the musket with four cranks, and fired again. The being fell for good, this time. Even the Hulk isn’t immune to death .

Joe cranked the rifle again, took aim, and fired. He reloaded, and heard a burst of automatic fire from his side. He peered down the scope, just in time to see the hulk fall, multiple bullet wounds seeping blood in his chest. Joe turned to see one of the umpires push forward to take cover behind a tree. Joe took aim at another hulk, and hit it in the head, sending it down immediately. 

The rest of the firefight continued like that. Crank. Aim. Shoot. The last hulk was killed by an umpire, right before Joe was about to let off a shot to its heart, and it was just him and the umpires. Joe stood up from his makeshift cover, and looked around. 

“Hey!” One of the umpires shouted at Joe. His head whipped around to look at the man. He was bald, and wore dark sunglasses, and was holding his helmet in one hand, and his rusted rifle in the other. “Good shooting,” he said, cooly. 

“Thanks,” Joe responded. “Do you guys work for Diamond City?” 

“Yeah, just down the road.”The umpire must have read his mind. 

“Thanks,” Joe repeated, and continued to Fenway.

He walked through some kind of barricade, but was really piled scrap held together by corrugated metal and wood in a crude wall. Atop the bulwark were turrets, the same model that the Army used to protect its bases in Anchorage, and a couple guards.

The first thing he noticed was how different it was. Someone had reinforced the outer brick wall with turquoise metal, which now extended all the way up the height of the inner wall. A huge, green garage door stood between him and the city. Outside of the door, was a woman, dressed in a red, leather trench coat and a faded leather scally cap. She was shouting into a disembodied voice through an intercom, but before Joe could register what she was saying, he saw another person enter the walled courtyard. Joe dropped Preston’s musket as soon as he saw the man.

A bald man, with a scar running down his face. He had a black leather jacket, with some kind of metal on one arm instead of a sleeve. And a hunk of metal coming out of the side of his head. That’s him, the son of a bitch who killed her. Everything was forgotten. Diamond City, the General, Preston Garvey. All that mattered was that this was the bastard who killed Nora. And he would fucking pay for it. 

“Hey, you bastard!” Joe shouted, earning him the attention of the woman in the scally cap, the Bastard, and one of the guards, though all he saw was the Bastard. “You killed her!” 

The Bastard drew his revolver, but Joe drew his 10mm quicker. Before he knew it, the recoil from his 10mm traveled up his arm and into his shoulder. Joe heard a metallic ping , and sparks fly off the man’s head right as a deeper boom erupted from the revolver. Joe saw sparks fly off one of the walls behind him. 

“Fuck!” The Bastard yelled as his hand flew up to his head. Joe couldn’t tell if he was starting to run, or if he was recoiling from the shot. But that didn’t matter. The Geneva Conventions didn’t exist in this hellhole. Joe fired another shot half second after the first shot, and missed. That was the last thing he remembered before the guard hit him in the back of the head with the butt of his rifle. 

Chapter Text

Joe knew his head was throbbing before he even woke up, if that was even possible. I must’ve had too much to drink or something , he thought. He reached out to pull Nora in closer, but nothing was there, only cold concrete.

He opened his eyes slowly, only to be face-to-face with a steel bar. It all came flooding back to him. Joe rubbed his eyes as he sat up to take in his surroundings. He was lying on a sleeping bag gratefully laid out in the corner of a small cell in a hall of at least a dozen cells. 

A guard stood at the end of the hall, in front of a doorway. She had one of the homemade rifles leaning against the wall beside her and was dressed in the same silly umpire outfit of the guys Joe was fighting the hulks with. “Hey,” he called to her. “Where the hell am I?”

“Jail, Vault Dweller,” she responded, then added, “Welcome to Diamond City.”

Joe fell back onto the sleeping bag, and gently his eyes. “What am I in here for?” He asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

“Dunno, that ain’t my job.”

“Beth!” Another voice, male, called from down the hall, causing Joe to sit up. “Who you talking to?”

“The vault dweller!” Beth shouted back at the same time that Joe shouted “Me!” That earned him a glare from Beth.

The other guard stepped into the hallway of cells. “Is that the one Piper paid the bounty for?” 

The first guard shrugged. “Dunno, that ain’t my job.”

“Yeah, he is. I’ll go send someone to get her,” the second guard said. He nodded at Joe as he left. “Tilly, head to Publick and get Piper down here!” Joe heard him shout through the doorway. 

Joe laid back down and shut his eyes once again. His head was still killing him, and his leg was still numb, but at least he made it to Diamond City. That had to count for something. Plus, since this Piper had paid his bounty, it sounded like he’d be able to go free. 

Joe didn’t realize he had fallen asleep until he was awakened by the screeching of the opening cell-door, and footsteps walking into his cell. “Wakey wakey,” a female voice said. Joe rolled over to look up at her. 

She was the woman Joe had seen at the gate, but up close. Her red leather coat was tattered at the bottom, and he just now noticed that she wore a green scarf around her neck. Her scally cap covered the top of her head, and had a scrap of paper tucked into it that read ‘Press.’ Black hair fell to her shoulders from under the cap. Her coat sleeves ended at her elbow, and leather fingerless gloves covered the rest of her arm.

Joe propped himself up on his elbow and smiled. “So what’s the jig?” 

The woman, Piper, Joe assumed, raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean, you paid my bounty, for no discernable reason. That’s a little suspicious, isn’t it?”

Piper shrugged. “You’re a vault dweller, and you shouted ‘You killed her,’ while you shot at a man just outside the gates of the most well guarded and heavily protected settlement in the Commonwealth. So… I want an interview.” Reporter, now the cap makes sense. She held out a hand. “So, do you want to get out of here?”

Joe sighed. He took her hand and she pulled him up and onto his feet. 

He motioned for her to lead the way out of the cell, and she obliged. She led her out of the jail and into the security office, a relatively spacious room on the first floor of the building, where Joe filled out some paperwork and picked up Preston’s musket and his 10mm pistol. “Miss Piper,” one of the guards greeted her with a smile as they walked into the room. His helmet was removed, showing ginger hair and green eyes, and he held a Nuka-Cola. “When will you be back?”

“Soon, if McDonough sees me in public,” Piper responded. 

The guard laughed. “See you, Piper.”

“Bye, Danny.” 

Piper opened the outer door, and turned into a thin alleyway.  On both sides were buildings made of rusted steel, but, to his left, through the cracks of the buildings, was the green wall of Fenway Park. Joe followed her out of the edges of the park, and into the center. The streets got wider, if only slightly, but the buildings got more and more densely packed on top of eachother. 

Eventually, they came across some kind of huge smokestack, at least eleven or twelve meters tall. The actual buildings around it were about the same height or taller, but there were market stalls set up around the smokestack underneath some kind of canvas roofing. Signs littered the area, for shops like Diamond City Surplus , and Commonwealth Weaponry . The whole area around the workshop was packed with people, more than Joe had ever expected to be in one place after the nuclear apocalypse.

Joe was taken aback as Piper led him into the market. “When was all this built?” He asked, but she didn’t seem to hear over the noise of the crowd. He reached over and tapped her shoulder. “Where are we going?” He mouthed. 

“Not far,” Piper mouthed back, and she led on. 

As they moved further from the market and the smokestack, the buildings once again got less dense, until they came to a small, two story shack, in sight of the entrance of the stadium, and the city. Outside was a pudgy man dressed in a suit, who was talking, though it seemed more like lecturing, to a little girl, no more than ten, standing on a soap box. The man was flanked by two of the umpires, who wielded better rifles than what he had seen on any of the other guards.

The girl’s eyes glanced aside towards Joe and Piper, but flickered back almost instantly. Not fast enough, though. The man turned his head, and saw Piper and Joe. “You devious rabble rousing slanderer!” He shouted, pointing at Piper. “The level of dishonesty in that paper of yours! I’ll have that printer scrapped for parts.”

“That a statement, McDonough? ‘Tyrant Mayor Shuts Down the Press.’” Piper punctuated the words by stamping them into the air in front of her, formatting a mock headline. She turned to Joe. “Why don’t we ask the Vault dweller? Do you support freedom of the press? Because the mayor’s threatening to throw free speech in the dumpster.”

Joe stood, shocked, for a moment. “I’ve… Always supported freedom of the press.”

McDonough looked at Joe, as if noticing him for the first time. He raised his hands, outstretched. “Oh… I didn’t mean to bring you into this, sir. No no no… You look like Diamond City material to me!” So he’s entering into a speech then. “Welcome to the great green jewel of the Commonwealth. Safe. Happy. A fine place to come, spend your money, settle down.” Joe’s eyes flicked to Piper, who rolled hers to glare at McDonough in return. “Don’t let this muckraker here tell you otherwise. Alright?”

“Well, when I decide to settle down, I’m certainly taking into account the free press.”

Joe saw Piper cover her mouth in the corner of his eye, but he kept his focus on the man.  Mayor McDonough scowled. “What did you come here for, vault dweller?” 

“My… wife was murdered,” Joe said after a moment’s hesitation. “I’m looking for her killer. I was told I might find someone who could help here.”

McDonough nodded. “I’m so sorry, sir-” he was probably going to continue, but Joe cut him off.

“I don’t need your condolences,” he said, softly. “Thank you, Mayor McDonough.” 

McDonough nodded. He glowered at Piper, “From now on, consider you, and your sister,” he gestured sharply at the little girl on the soap box, “on notice.” McDonough turned down the street, and the two guards peeled after him.

“Yeah, keep talking McDonough, it’s all you’re good for,” Piper called after him. 

Joe could barely hear McDonough’s scoff as he stalked away. “Come inside, I’m going to talk to my sister,” Piper said to him, motioning to the building. 

The building had a patio, that mostly contained filing cabinets and boxes filled with papers, as well as a mailbox, for letters to the editor, Joe supposed. Above it were the words `Publick Occurrences,’ in green text, in some kind of old-English font. 

When he walked inside, he was greeted with a space larger than he had expected to find himself in.  The living area had a couch and a coffee table with a wood chair sat across from it, and ended at a wall of cinder blocks, and a printing press. There were stairs that led to the second floor right by the cinder blocks. There was a small, open, door to Joe’s left. He glanced inside. Just a toilet and a faucet with a mirror above the sink. Joe placed the musket standing on the side of the couch. 

Joe heard his hosts speaking outside, but he paid no mind to them. He sat down on the couch, waiting patiently. He went over the conversation with McDonough in his mind. He hadn’t mentioned Shaun. Nor had he mentioned Shaun to anyone else since he woke up in the Vault after Codsworth. He didn’t know why, but he felt guilty about it. Like he wasn’t caring enough about his son. 

Joe didn’t dwell on the thoughts for long before Piper entered the living area, and took a seat on the chair across from the couch. “Alright, Blue…”

Joe saw his whole adult life flash before him. The day he turned eighteen, the day he enlisted in the army. The pain and cold from the frostbite that turned his fingers, toes, and another vital organ blue in bootcamp. The day he was shipped to Alaska. The day Ioan and William died. The day he dragged Kyle Burton through the snow and got his leg shot off. The day he was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross by the Vice President. 

The first time he saw Nora in Washington D.C. The year they traded letters back and forth. The day she moved to Boston, and they started dating. The day he proposed by the Bunker Hill Memorial as the sun set and the day they got married. The day she flew to Victoria to see him in his hospital bed. The day Shaun was born.

“...sorry about that,” she finished. 

Joe blinked, his fingers and toes were cold. “Why’d you call me that?” 

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Your vault suit. It’s blue. That okay?”

Joe looked down at the suit that showed through his jacket and pieces of armor. “Right, of course.”

Piper nodded slowly, probably still confused. “So, here’s the deal. I want an interview. Your life story in print. I think it's time Diamond City had a little outside perspective on the Commonwealth.” She paused for a moment, gauging his reaction. “You do that, and... I'll tell you what. I'll come with you. Watch your back while you get used to the world above ground.”

Joe thought about it for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek as he thought. “You got a deal.” He wasn’t sure why he agreed. A millisecond after, he regretted it. This wasn’t a place that people should be trusted. But, despite his reservation, he didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure why about that either.

Piper smiled widely in response to his acceptance, but regained her composure quickly. “Good, let’s get down to business.” Joe nodded, and the interview began. “First thing’s first, what’s your name? We never got formally introduced.” 

“Joe Murphy, and yourself?”

“Piper Wright. Reporter, Publick Occurrences.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Joe smiled a little.

“Yeah, duh…  so, I know you're from a Vault. How would you describe your time on the inside?”

“Cold,” Joe responded immediately. Piper’s eyebrows raised. “They had us in cryosleep. My family and I were frozen. I didn’t spend much time in the vault.”

Her eyes widened. “Wait. They boxed you up in a fridge? The whole time? Are you saying you were alive before the War?”

Joe nodded. “Yeah. I’m over two hundred years old.”

Piper whistled low, and smiled. “Oh my god. The Man out of Time.” A headline. She recovered quickly, and her demeanor changed back to Interviewer. “And what about your wife?” She asked. Her tone had changed, become more solemn. 

“There…” Joe’s breath caught. “A man came in, he-”

“You don’t have to talk about it. If you don’t want to,” Piper interrupted him.

Joe rubbed his eyes, which were gleaming with tears. “Thank you.”

“Do you want anything to drink? Water, cola?”

Joe shook his head. “We can keep going.”

Piper nodded slowly. “So... you’ve seen the Commonwealth. Diamond City. How does it compare to your old life?” 

Joe thought for a moment. “It’s pretty shit,” he joked. “But… I spent a decade of my life in a warzone, fighting for my life. So I’m used to it.” He paused. “But in all honesty, seeing everyone out here, rebuilding the world. It gives me hope. Shit, this city alone…” he sighed. “But, it’s nothing near what it once was.” 

“That’s…” Piper scribbled down some notes on a notepad he didn’t even notice her take out, “... surprisingly inspired, Blue. I’m definitely quoting that.” Joe nodded, part in approval and part in acknowledgement. “For the last part of our interview, I'd like to do something different. I want you to make a statement to Diamond City directly.” Joe nodded again. “What would you say to someone out there who's lost a loved one to a random act of violence, but might be too scared, or too numb to the world, to do anything?” Joe realized just then that she spoke with her hands, gesturing and waving them with her pen in hand.

Joe thought about the question for a while in a trance, staring down at the floor. Long enough for Piper to snap and ask if he was alright. “Yeah, I’m just… thinking.” He looked back up to her. “I guess I would say that they should think about their loss, and use that to seek justice, for what happened to them.” He hesitated for a moment. “And to think about what they would have wanted.”

“A strong note to end on, Blue. Thanks.” She smiled at him, and some of the tension in her shoulders released. That’s the end of interviewer mode, then . “That’s everything. It’s gonna take some time to put this all together, but I think your story’s gonna give Diamond City something to talk about.”

“Good… And, about my wife-” 

“You don’t need to say anything. I understand.”

Joe nodded, and smiled. “Sure. Thanks.” Oh, shit. The Minutemen. Joe had completely forgotten about them. “Hey, do you know where the Santangelo Hotel is?”

“Yeah, go back the way we came, past the Security Office and into the Western Stands, it’ll be to your right just as you get up the stairs.”

“Thanks, Piper.”

Joe stood up to leave, and touched the door handle. “Hey,” Piper called out to him, “if you need a place to stay while you’re in the city, you can have my couch.”

Joe nodded. “Alright, I might hold you to that.”

Joe backtracked towards the Security Office and up into the Western Stands, the stairway to which was marked by signage. The stands seemed, from what Joe could tell, posh. The buildings were more spread out than any other in the city, and their outer facades looked far cleaner and fancier than anything he had seen in the Commonwealth.

The Santangelo was two stories, and was fairly large. It was built on a platform that adjusted for the sloped stands from the pre-war stadium. Painted on white paint on the outer wall was Santangelo Hotel and underneath was Running Water and Electricity in smaller writing. The door was painted the same green as the Monster. Joe opened the door.

He was greeted by a young man, no older than sixteen, standing behind a desk. “Good afternoon, sir, can I help you with anything today?”

Joe walked to the boy’s desk. “Yeah, I’m looking for a…” Joe racked his brain for the name. “Mister Becker?” He wasn’t sure why he said Mister, it just sounded right.

“Of course, sir. He’s in room 203, just up the stairs and to your right.”

Joe thanked the boy, and walked up the stairs behind the counter. The numbers were on plaques next to the doors. At room 203, he stopped, suddenly conscious that he hadn’t bathed in at least three days. He licked his hand and ran it through his hair, hoping it would make him at least a bit presentable. Joe knocked on the door. 

Joe could hear steps walking towards the door almost immediately. The door opened with a force, and the man who opened it looked disappointed to see him. “Can I help you?” He asked. 

“Yeah, Preston Garvey sent me. General Becker?”
The man’s eyebrows raised immediately. “Do you mind if I ask if he told you anything to say to me?”

“Yeah.” Joe paused for a second, remembering the code phrase. “‘Tonight the American flag floats from yonder hill, or Molly Stark sleeps a widow.’”

Becker’s shoulders fell about an inch. “Come in,” he said, moving out of the doorway.

Joe stepped inside the room. It was sparsely decorated, containing only a bed with a nightstand, a dresser, a painting that faced the bed, and a curtain that probably held a toilet behind it. “I’m sorry Preston couldn’t come himself. He got wounded as we were leaving, so I left him behind with my robot.” 

The door shut, and Joe turned to look at Becker in the light for the first time. He was short, shorter than Joe, at least. He had thin, orange hair and patches of a beard. He was probably around forty, but the wrinkles and grey streaks in his hair made him look about sixty.

“Yes, where is Preston now? And the rest of his team?” The General asked Joe. 

“Preston’s at a settlement, to the North. It’s called Sanctuary Hills.” Joe paused. “The rest of his team didn’t make it.”

“Sanctuary,” the General sighed under his breath. “It’s a shame about the others, but they knew what they were doing when they left the city. Thank you, Mister…”

“Murphy. Joe.” He held out his hand, which the other man shook. 

“General Joe Becker. Murphy, you say?” He asked.

“Yeah, my dad’s side was Irish.”

“Right.” Becker walked to the side of the bed, and pulled out a drawer. “Can I pour you a drink? This is cause to celebrate.” 

“One.” Joe waited for Becker to pour a glass. He handed it to Joe.

“ Slanche, ” Becker toasted. They drank. The booze slid down Joe’s throat like it was barbed wire. It didn’t taste like any alcohol Joe had had in his life. “Yeah, those Borbrov’s make shit bourbon. But, I’ve heard they have good jobs, if that’s your thing.”

“No, I’m not a hired gun.”

“So why help Preston?”

“He… saved my life, I owed him.” 

Becker shrugged. “I’ve heard most of you vault dwellers don’t come to the surface for trivial matters such as employment anyway.” Joe didn’t refute him, it seemed pointless. And it would be a lie. “How about I employ you anyway, Joe?”

“Employ me how?”

“My group and I are going to need protection on the road. We had counted on all four of our men returning.”

“I thought you were a general?”

“Now, I do have one remaining reliable shooter of my own, and some settlers with pipe weapons who’ll get scared shitless if anything goes down, but that’s about the extent of my army. Not to mention, I can pay. Not much, but caps are caps.”

“Caps?”

Becker raised an eyebrow. “I thought they used caps in all the Vaults now. Are you not from around here?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Becker shrugged. “Caps are currency. Like the paper they used Pre-War.” He didn’t ask questions. That was a good sign. At least, Joe thought it was. Whenever they had hired help in Alaska, they weren’t supposed to ask about where they’re from, so it had to mean something.

Joe thought about the offer for a moment. Bottle Caps as money? This place keeps getting weirder. He nodded. “Fuck it,” he said. Joe liked Preston, and he wanted to make sure Codsworth was taking care of him alright. “I don’t have anything else to lose.” That wasn’t true, but he figured any weakness would be a vulnerability. He could tell people about Nora, but not Shaun. A dead wife couldn’t be used against him, but a living child could. His stomach churned at the thought of someone threatening his baby, but it was a real possibility in this hellhole.
“Okay, Mister Murphy. I’ll see you here tomorrow morning. Seven o’ clock?”

“Deal.”

 Joe thanked General Becker for the drink, and left the hotel. He took his time making his way back to the newspaper office, especially in the market. The afternoon rush had died down, but there were still a fair amount of people meandering about. His Pip-boy read half past four when he reached the smokestack, so there’d probably be at least another hour before another rush started. He hadn’t noticed the shop underneath the pillar before, neon signs around the base of the stack, placed just right to be seen from the streets feeding into the market, labeled the shop as “Power Noodles.” A protectron stirred a pot behind a counter under one of the sign.

“ Nan-ni shimasu-ka? ”

“Sorry?”

“Just say yes, it’s all he understands,” a man sitting on a stool eating a bowl of noodles with a pair of chopsticks at the bar chimed in. 

“What happens if I say yes?” Joe asked.

“He gives you a bowl.”

“Right.” Joe turned to the robot. “No, thanks.”

“ Nan-ni shimasu-ka? ”

Joe walked slowly by the stalls, browsing through whatever was on display. As he was looking through the display at Diamond City Surplus, a woman came out of a back door. “You.” Joe’s head shot up from the roll of tape he was examining. “I don’t know you. Just keep your distance.”

Joe slowly placed down the tape and raised both his hands, palms outstretched. “Keep calm, I’m standing still.”

“That’s exactly what a synth would say.” The woman squinted at him. “But… I don’t know, are you really… human?”

“A synth?”

“Hmph. Something a synth would say.” Joe apparently thought about that for too long, because the woman shrieked, “Well? Are you?”

“Yeah,” Joe blurted out. “Human as the day I was born.”

“Alright, but I’ll be keeping my eye on you.”

“Right, sorry, miss.”

Joe meandered through the market for a few more moments. He was chatting with the owner of “Commonwealth Weaponry,” when a rather loud conversation drew both their attention.

“You son of a bitch!” A man shouted.

“Hey, Kyle,” another responded. The first man reached into his jacket, and Joe drew his pistol immediately. 

“You fucking synth!” The first man shouted.

“Kyle. I’m your brother! Put the gun down!”

Joe moved closer to the scene, keeping his gun trained on Kyle. Arturo, the owner of Commonwealth Weaponry, did the same, as did one of the guards. “Don’t move, synth! What have you done with the real Riley? Where’s my brother?”

“Put the gun down! Now!” The guard shouted.

“Take his advice!” Joe added, making his presence and gun known as well.

“He’s a synth! He’ll kill us all!”

The guard’s shot rang out through the market. Joe lowered his weapon, watching Kyle’s blood spill from the wound in his head. “There are no synths in Diamond City! Just you folks and your damn paranoia!” The guard shouted. His voice echoed through the crowd. Riley fell to his knees over his brother’s body, whimpering. 

“Jesus,” Joe muttered, holstering his weapon. Joe turned to Arturo, who was walking back to his stall. “Does that happen a lot?” 

“Nothing this bad,” Arturo responded. “Occasionally there’s a standoff, but…”

Joe nodded. “Thanks for your time, Arturo.”

“Feel free to come back anytime.” Joe turned around, glancing down at the corpse on the ground. “Oh, hey,” he heard Arturo call from behind him. Joe turned back towards him. “You, uh... happen to have a geiger counter?”

“No, sorry. I have this,” Joe held up his Pip-boy, “but not a standalone.”

“Alright, thanks.”

Joe smiled at the man, and began slowly making his way back to Publick Occurrences, towards the main gates. On the way, he thought he saw the bald guard he had seen outside. He was staring at Joe. Or, at least, that’s what it looked like through his sunglasses. Trick of the light , Joe thought. 

Joe knocked on the steel door, not the red one in the garage. He heard steps inside, coming down the stairs and across the wooden floor. Piper opened the door. For a millisecond as the door opened, Joe could see a frown on her face, but she smiled when she saw him. “Hey, Blue…” Joe blinked, and for a quarter second, he was back at the Anchorage FOB, his fingers half frozen off because his dumbass didn’t wear gloves on patrol. “...come in.” Piper stepped aside, and Joe walked slowly into her home.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, fine. Nothing like a few death threats to lighten up the mood.” She had taken off her coat and scarf in the time she was gone, and was just wearing a white t-shirt. 

Joe raised an eyebrow. “That won’t be an issue, right?”

“Nah, we get them all the time.” That only made Joe more concerned, but Piper seemed nonplussed about it.

“Hey, if you were serious about wanting to travel with me, I’m leaving in the morning with the Minutemen.”

“The Minutemen?” Piper asked, incredulously. “They’re still around?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“I thought they disbanded after the Quincy Massacre.” Joe didn’t know what that meant, but he remembered Preston whispering the name Jacob in his sleep the day before. 

He shrugged. “I guess not.”

“Yeah…” Piper trailed off, and Joe could hear the gears turning in her brain. He had served with a reporter, a lifetime ago. He had told Joe that a good reporter was always looking for a lead. Joe wondered if Piper was a good reporter. As far as he could tell, she was.

“So… you gonna come?”

“Hell yeah.” She broke out of her trance. “And miss a chance to interview the remainder of the Minutemen? I wouldn’t miss it!”

Joe raised his eyebrows. “Good to know.” Joe sat down on the couch, as Piper opened the fridge, and pulled out two Nuka-Colas. She handed one to Joe. He thanked her, and cracked it open on the coffee table.

“Look, about your wife.” Joe looked down at the floor, part from shame, and part from embarrassment , then his eyes flickered back up to meet hers. “I didn’t know if you were on the up-and-up before, didn’t want to waste my friend’s time, but I think he can help you.”

“Okay…”

“His name’s Nick Valentine, detective extraordinaire. His office is right here, in Diamond City.”

Joe nodded slowly. “Do you think you can introduce us?”

Piper was taken aback, but Joe didn’t know why. Was he not supposed to invite her? It seemed like the right thing to do. “Uh- Yeah, definitely,” she stuttered out. “Let me grab my coat?”

“Sure.” Joe smiled. He took another swig from his cola. Piper came down the stairs just a minute later.

They left Piper’s house, heading back to the market and into a set of alleys. Joe could see the office before turning the corner. A red, neon sign that showed a heart pierced with Cupid’s arrow and the words Valentine Detective’s Agency was posted outside. Joe knocked on the door. He heard something slam shut inside, then the door opened. 

A woman in a skirt had opened the door. “Sorry, office is closed,” a woman responded with a shaky voice, Her eyes were puffy and her makeup was running, like she had been crying. 

“Ellie? Is everything okay?” The woman, Ellie, jumped when Piper spoke.

“Oh, Piper,” she budged past Joe and hugged the reporter. “He’s gone.”

Piper pulled away from Ellie, concern painted all over her face. “Who’s gone? Where’s Nicky?”

Ellie was crying now, tears ran freely down her red face. “He was working a case, and now he’s gone!” She hugged Piper again, and Joe felt a knot tighten in his chest. He looked at Piper, who was comforting her friend, then back at Ellie. Joe reached out, and placed a hand on Ellie’s shoulder.

“Miss?” Piper looked up at him, and Ellie turned around. “I’m going to get him back.”

“What?” Ellie asked at the same time Piper said, “Blue…?” 

“What about the Minutemen?” Piper asked.

“I’ll go looking for him tonight. If I’m not back by morning, then you go with them.” He turned to Ellie. “Where is he?”

“Nick…” She stopped to sniffle. “He was working a case. Skinny Malone’s gang had kidnapped a young woman. He tracked them to their hideout in Park Street Station.”

“Okay, I’ll be back with him tonight. How will I know when I find him?”

Ellie sniffled, and smiled. “He has a unique face.” She reached out and touched Joe’s hand. “Thank you.”

Joe just nodded and pulled his hand away. He shimmied past the women, and made his way out of the alleys. He was making his way back to Piper’s house, to get Preston’s gun. He had just gotten past the market when he felt a hand on his shoulder. “I’m coming with you,” Piper said when he turned around.
“What about your sister?”

“She’ll be fine, it’ll just be tonight. I’ll say bye to her tomorrow.”

Joe nodded. “Alright, two guns are better than one, I suppose.” 

Piper hesitated, then nodded. “Let me get my pistol, and we can go.”

They made their way back to the Publick. Piper went to her nook upstairs, and Joe stayed down, waiting for her. When Piper came back down a few minutes later, she was holding a 10mm pistol and had shouldered a backpack. 

“What’s in the backpack?” Joe asked, immediately realizing the stupidity of the question. 

“Oh, uh, just medicine, extra ammo, food, water. Some other stuff,” Piper responded, blushing slightly. Obviously people would have go-bags in the apocalypse. Piper confirmed as much. I need to get myself one, though if he kept using the musket, ammo wouldn’t be a huge issue anymore. 

Joe picked up Preston’s rifle, and held it in a carrying position. He opened the door for her, and they were on their way. I’m looking for a detective two hundred years after the nuclear apocalypse with a reporter, Joe thought. There’s a joke in there, somewhere.