By the third day after the Institute's fall, the Commonwealth was already shifting into a new rhythm—uneasy, but hopeful. Minutemen banners flew over checkpoints, patrols rotated with renewed purpose, and orders were being drawn up for the first major offensive against the Gunners. Quincy Town was first on the list. Old ghosts didn't get to keep their fortresses.
Inside the Castle, the mood was quieter.
Sarah sat behind a desk instead of a barricade, dressed not in tactical armor but in an old, carefully preserved pre-War NYPD uniform. The jacket fit a little looser than it once had, its faded blue a stark contrast to the scars and augments she no longer wore openly. Her left sleeve was pinned neatly—temporary, while her new augmented arm was still under reconstruction. For the first time in a long while, she looked less like a weapon and more like a woman doing paperwork.
Across the room, Nate watched young Shaun from a distance.
The boy was crouched near a workbench, utterly absorbed, small hands sorting screws and springs with uncanny precision. He hummed softly to himself while tinkering with a half-disassembled radio, eyes bright with curiosity rather than fear.
Nate lingered a moment longer, then turned and stepped into the command room, lowering himself into the General's chair. It still felt strange—like borrowed authority—but he was getting used to the weight.
His gaze drifted back to Sarah."Interesting outfit you've got on," he said.
Sarah glanced down at herself, tugging absently at the jacket sleeve."Ah. This?" A faint smile touched her lips. "Old uniform. Before I was ever activated as an SHD agent. Figured desk work doesn't require body armor." She looked back up. "So… how's young Shaun?"
Nate exhaled, fingers lacing together."We're… working on it. It's hard for me to accept. I know he's a child—but I also know he's Gen-3. Blood, bones, everything. That just makes me worry more." His voice dropped. "About his growth. Physically, I mean."
Sarah nodded slowly."Yeah. I figured that would be your concern."
She reached into her pocket and placed a small, translucent capsule on the desk. It looked almost like candy—harmless, innocuous.
Nate eyed it warily. "You know I'm not a kid anymore."
Without warning, Sarah smacked the back of his hand. Not hard—but enough to sting.
"Don't be an idiot," she said flatly. "That's not for you."
She slid the capsule back toward him."It's for Shaun."
Nate froze. "What?"
"BOS scribes and Virgil confirmed something during cleanup," Sarah continued. "Gen-3 synths were modified using a tailored FEV strain. With the right catalyst, it can trigger proper biological growth and aging." She raised a finger. "Slower than a baseline human—but natural. Sustainable."
Nate stared at the capsule, heart pounding."So… he can grow up?"
"Yes," Sarah said softly. "He'll age. Learn. Change. Live. Like a normal child."
She leaned back in her chair, expression turning wry."Didn't come cheap, though. Took a long chain of favors, political pressure, and reminding certain scribes that this was worth prioritizing over new laser lenses."
For a moment, Nate said nothing. Then his shoulders sagged, the tension he'd been carrying for days finally cracking.
"…Thank you," he said quietly.
Sarah gave a small nod. "He deserves a chance. So do you."
From the other room, young Shaun looked up from his workbench and smiled—holding up the radio, now humming with static and half-formed music.
"So," he said at last, "you've started shipping your Dolls to that fleet. Does that mean you're going with them?"
Sarah shook her head, her expression firm."Not yet. The Gunners' smear campaign is still active, and their presence hasn't been broken. Until that's done, I'm staying." She folded her arms, tone measured and deliberate. "Right now the fleet's running on skeleton crews—mostly Dolls. Functional, but not ready for extended operations."
She paused, then added quietly, "I'm also transferring the Ringleader cores to the fleet. Maximum security. Sangvis units watching Sangvis units." A faint, dangerous smile crossed her face. "If they behave… I might consider giving them new bodies. Something less… monstrous."
Her gaze drifted toward the command room window, where the Prydwen loomed in the distance, its massive silhouette blotting out part of the sky as crews moved along its spine.
"Maxson's heading back to D.C. once resupply's complete," Sarah continued. "Liberty Prime's being dismantled—again. This time properly." She exhaled softly. "He finally trusted Danse. Promoted him to Sentinel. Also named him liaison between the Brotherhood, the Commonwealth, and the Minutemen."
Nate turned toward her, surprised."That's good news." He studied her face. "But you don't look relieved."
Sarah didn't answer right away.
Her eyes stayed on the Prydwen, unfocused now, as if seeing something far beyond it."The DEFY Dolls picked up an old long-range radio update from the west," she said at last. "NCR channels. Fragmented. Emergency codes. Their capital…" Her jaw tightened. "What was once a functioning civilization is now broken into pieces."
Nate felt a chill crawl up his spine."The NCR? But they were supposed to be stable."
"They were," Sarah replied. "Or close enough." She clenched her remaining hand slowly. "Something hit the West Coast hard. Hard enough to fracture them."
She finally turned back to him, the weight of decades of war and foresight heavy in her eyes."And if the NCR is breaking… then the balance out there is already gone. That worries me more than anything left in the Commonwealth."
"So," she said as she try divert other topic, "how's your newly formed special unit doing? The one made up of former Railroad agents."
Nate let out a quiet breath, something between a chuckle and a sigh."Oh, those Nightingale folks? They're working splendidly." He shook his head in mild disbelief. "Infiltration, counter-intel, information gathering—they slipped into the role like they were born for it. Right now they're operating out of Diamond City."
Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Diamond City?"
"Yeah," Nate continued. "They say Mayor McDonough's been acting… off. Even more than usual. Ever since the Institute went up in smoke, he's been spooked. Paranoid. Canceling meetings, locking himself in his office, changing routines." Nate smirked faintly. "Funny thing—he used to act untouchable. Now he looks like a man waiting for the other shoe to drop."
Sarah exhaled slowly, rubbing her temple with two fingers."Of course," she muttered. "When the shadow government collapses, the puppets panic."
She straightened, gaze drifting once more toward the window and the settlements dotting the Commonwealth beyond."Give it time," she said, voice low and weary. "Once people realize the Institute is truly gone, settlements will start grouping together. Trade councils. Defense pacts. Someone will call it a provisional authority, then a council, then—"
She let out a quiet, humorless sigh."—another government."
Nate watched her carefully. "That bother you?"
Sarah glanced back at him, one corner of her mouth lifting slightly."No. It's inevitable." Her expression hardened just a touch. "What bothers me is how fast it happens… and who decides they should be in charge."