If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead, be sure to check out my Patreon!!!
Go to https://www.patreon.com/Tang12
___________________________
No one spoke for a long stretch of road. The adrenaline crash was hitting, leaving everyone drained, slumped against crates or leaning their heads back with eyes half-shut. The sound of the engine was almost soothing, almost enough to fool them into thinking the danger was behind them.
Hancock waited until the convoy was a few miles out, the cracked asphalt stretching ahead like a broken scar across the Commonwealth, before he finally reached for the radio clipped to the metal support beam beside him. The hum of the engine filled the truck bed, mingling with the faint rattle of crates shifting against one another as they bounced along the ruined highway.
Soldiers were slumped in whatever positions they could find with leaning on crates, leaning on each other, head tipped against steel walls, eyes half-closed. Rodriguez sat near the back, arms wrapped around his knees, staring at the scuffed floor like he could still see Walker's blood staining it. Bones kept a protective shoulder pressed against him, a silent anchor keeping him from drifting too far into guilt.
Hancock gave them all one more glance, making sure nobody was about to pass out or puke their guts up, then finally thumbed the radio switch.
"Sico, this is Hancock," he said, voice quieter than his usual fire, threaded with exhaustion but holding steady. "We're on our way back to Sanctuary. Medical supplies secured."
There was a few seconds of faint static that just enough to let his own heartbeat thump loudly in his ears, before Sico's voice crackled through the speaker, strong, steady, familiar. The kind of voice that could hold a line together even when hell opened under their feet.
"Good work," Sico replied. Behind him, just barely, Hancock thought he heard the hum of machinery and soft footsteps which is Curie's, probably, always moving, always preparing. "When you arrive, head straight to the hospital. I want those supplies moved into storage immediately."
Hancock nodded instinctively even though Sico couldn't see it.
"Copy that, boss."
"And Hancock," Sico added, his tone shifting with less commanding, more grounded, weighted with understanding. "Curie and I will be there waiting. We'll be counting and checking everything personally."
A rare flicker of relief moved through Hancock's chest. If Curie was the one overseeing it, nothing would be missed. She was the closest thing the Commonwealth had to a miracle worker.
"Roger that," Hancock said. "See you at home."
He clicked off the radio with a soft tap. The silence that followed wasn't empty, just calm. Heavy. Like the world exhaled through the truck bed all at once.
Ace, who'd been pretending to sleep with his hat pulled low over his eyes, cracked one open.
"Sico's gonna make us unload all this the moment we get back, isn't he?"
Hancock didn't bother answering. Ace groaned dramatically anyway.
Bones nudged him with a boot. "Quit complainin'. At least we ain't runnin' from another giant green asshole."
Ace folded his arms. "It's the principle, Bones. My muscles have filed for divorce."
Morgan snorted. Even Wren let out a tired, barely-there chuckle.
Hancock leaned back against the cold metal wall, letting the rhythm of the engine rumble through his spine. His body ached in places he didn't know he had joints. The weight of the day sat on him, from Walker's death to that fucking monster tearing through hospital doors like tissue.
But they'd done it.
They were alive.
And that mattered.
For the next half hour, the convoy moved through the hills and broken roads in something like peaceful quiet. Sunlight filtered through ruptured clouds overhead in dusty beams. The wind carried the smell of pine, gunpowder, and diesel. The occasional ruined building passed by with a collapsed grocery store, a half-standing diner, a rusted car lying on its side like a stripped carcass.
No gunfire.
No shadows moving in the tree line.
No roars.
Just road.
Just survival.
Just home drawing closer.
Sanctuary's silhouette finally began to appear over the rise from a patchwork of rebuilt walls, guard towers, solar panels, wind turbines, and the gleaming building roof of the Freemasons HQ, standing taller than everything else. Smoke curled from cooking fires. Spotlights rotated lazily along the perimeter, the subtle glow of laser grids faintly visible in the afternoon haze.
It didn't matter how many times Hancock saw it, Sanctuary always hit him with the same quiet punch in the chest.
A reminder:
People lived here.
People breathed here.
People hoped here.
And they were counting on days like this.
On missions like this.
On people like them.
The closer they got, the more the soldiers in the truck began to stir with lifting their heads, stretching cramped legs, straightening uniforms. Even Rodriguez managed to uncoil himself a little, though he still clung to silence like it was the only thing holding him together.
As the convoy rolled up to the main gate, Reeves' truck in front honked twice. The heavy metal doors creaked open, sliding aside to reveal two teams of Sanctuary guards standing ready the rifles at ease, but alert.
Sentry bots traced the convoy with glowing optics. Turrets hummed quietly overhead. But the sentries didn't open fire or tense up.
They recognized the trucks.
They recognized the mission.
They recognized their brothers and sisters returning home.
Voices lifted in greeting. exhausted but relieved.
"You're back!"
"Did you get everything?"
"Anyone hurt?"
"Where's Walker? He was with you, right?"
Hancock closed his eyes briefly. Morgan answered before Hancock had to.
"We'll talk inside," he said gently.
The guards nodded grimly, stepping back.
The convoy rumbled through Sanctuary's open gate and into the main square.
Sico was already there.
He stood near the hospital entrance with Curie at his side, clipboard tucked under one arm, her bright eyes scanning the convoy with precise efficiency. She looked tired too, but not in the way humans did. More like she'd been thinking too much, worrying too hard.
Sico was different with broad stance, arms crossed over his armored chest, jaw set in a way that made even exhausted soldiers straighten when they saw him. Leadership radiated off him effortlessly, like gravity.
The trucks rolled to a stop.
Engines died.
Silence took over.
Then Hancock hopped down from the bed with a heavy thump, boots hitting the packed dirt. His joints protested loudly enough that he winced.
Sico stepped forward.
"Well?" he asked that's not impatient, not cold. Just… loaded.
Hancock gestured behind him. "Every crate we could salvage. Some were already ruined, but we got the rest. Enough to restock the clinic and then some."
Curie nodded immediately, relief softening her usual intensity. "That is wonderful news. We have many patients who will benefit from this."
Sico's eyes drifted over the soldiers unloading themselves from the trucks. His jaw tightened a little when he counted heads.
"Walker?" Sico asked quietly.
Hancock shook his head once.
The flicker of sorrow that passed through Sico's eyes was brief, but real. A small exhale escaped him before he straightened again.
"I'm sorry," Sico said. "We'll honor him properly."
Hancock nodded, grateful for that.
Then Sico clapped him on the shoulder. "For now, let's finish the work he died helping us do. Bring everything inside."
Hancock turned to the soldiers and raised his voice.
"Alright, folks! You heard him! Straight to the hospital, let's move these supplies before my back decides to quit the Commonwealth entirely!"
Wren groaned. "Can't we just… throw the crates and let Curie catch them?"
Curie blinked. "Please do not do that."
Bones laughed for the first time since the fight, a weary, broken sound but real.
Hancock grabbed the first crate off the truck and held it against his chest.
"Let's get to it," he said.
And the soldiers began to unload.
The process wasn't fast, not after the day they'd had but it was steady. Determined. Each crate was carried up the concrete ramp into the hospital's rear storage wing, where Curie was already setting up a temporary sorting station. She worked like a machine which literally she was, but there was emotion in her efficiency, a gentle urgency in the way she labeled, counted, checked seals and expiration dates.
Sico stood near the doorway, directing traffic so no one collided or dropped anything.
Hancock made three trips before his arms began to shake.
Four before sweat dripped down his spine.
Five before his lungs burned like someone had stuffed firecrackers in them.
But he kept going.
They all did.
And as the crates filled the storage room with row by row, stack by stack as a quiet sense of accomplishment began to build, heavier and more solid than all the fear that had chased them from the hospital.
This was why they did it.
This was why it mattered.
Every box they carried meant someone might live a little longer.
Someone might not lose a limb.
Someone might survive childbirth.
Someone might make it through fever or infection or bullet wounds.
This was the work that shaped tomorrow.
This was the work Walker had died helping them complete.
After nearly an hour of unloading, the final crate hit the ground with a dull thud.
Sico checked it off the manifest, then took a slow, deep breath.
"That's everything," he said softly.
Curie nodded. "Oui. They are all accounted for."
Hancock leaned against the wall, wiping sweat from his brow with his sleeve. "Good. Because if there was one more crate, I was gonna mutiny."
Sico cracked the faintest ghost of a smile. "Hancock, if you mutinied, you'd still end up carrying the crates."
Hancock snorted. "Probably."
The soldiers laughed with quietly, tiredly, but with genuine warmth.
Then Sico stepped to the center of the room, his gaze sweeping across the group.
"You all did good work today," he said. "Hard work. Dangerous work. You brought home what we needed to keep this place alive. I know it cost us… and I know you're all exhausted. But you did what had to be done."
Heads bowed.
Shoulders straightened.
Even Rodriguez managed to lift his chin.
Sico continued, his voice steady but thick with meaning.
"Get some rest. Drink water. Eat something. Clean up. We'll debrief tomorrow. But tonight… just breathe. You've earned it."
Slowly, one by one, the soldiers began to file out with moving in small groups toward the barracks, or the mess hall, or the showers. A few gave Hancock a nod as they passed. A few clapped Rodriguez gently on the shoulder. A few lingered near the exit, exchanging quiet words about Walker.
Sico looked to Hancock as the last of them trickled out.
"You alright?" Sico asked.
Hancock rolled his shoulders. "Ask me after I sleep for twelve hours."
"You'll get six," Sico said.
Hancock groaned. "You're heartless."
Sico almost smiled. "Efficient."
Curie stepped forward, placing a hand on Hancock's arm. "You did very well today. You all did. Thank you."
Hancock blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity. "Yeah. Uh… sure thing, Doc."
When Curie left to start cataloging, Sico lingered a little longer.
"We'll hold a memorial for Walker in the morning," Sico said. "If you want to say something, you can."
Hancock nodded, throat tightening unexpectedly. "I will."
"Good." Sico squeezed his shoulder. "Now go. Rest. You look like you fought a deathclaw barehanded."
Hancock grunted. "Super mutant, actually."
"Same energy," Sico replied.
Hancock pushed himself off the wall with a grunt, rolling his shoulder to make sure it still functioned like a normal shoulder and not some half-rusted hinge. The muscles screamed at him that loudly, dramatically, like they were staging their own protest, but he ignored them. He'd lived long enough with a lifetime of stupid decisions that a little pain barely qualified as a memo.
"Alright," he muttered, waving lazily toward Sico and Curie, "I'm gonna drag my ass outta here before I fuse permanently to this wall."
Curie gave him one last warm, earnest smile. Sico gave him the leader's version of the same thing with a short nod, grounding and steady.
Hancock lifted a hand in farewell and stepped out of the hospital storage room.
The second he crossed the threshold into the hallway, the exhaustion hit him like a sledgehammer to the chest. The adrenaline of the mission, the grim weight of Walker's empty seat in the truck, the endless crates carried, the quiet grief threading through every breath as all of it came crashing down.
His boots felt heavier.
The hallway lights were a little too bright.
And Sanctuary's air, warm and familiar, wrapped around him like a reminder that he was home… but the world outside was still cruel.
He dragged himself down the ramp, passing two medics carrying a patient on a stretcher with someone injured at the farms, judging by the dirt-streaked shirt and the way he apologized for being in the way. People always apologized too much here. Trauma did that to you.
Hancock gave them space, stepping aside.
Outside, the late afternoon sunlight washed over him. Not warm, not cold but just honest. The square buzzed with life even in its tired quiet: farmers returning from fields, guards swapping shifts on watchtowers, children chasing each other along rebuilt sidewalks, someone banging metal in the old garage as they tuned up a truck engine. The place sounded alive.
And it smelled like home with smoke, stew, metal, and that weird mix of hope and stubbornness that only Sanctuary could brew.
Hancock let out a long breath and rubbed his face with both hands before trudging toward the mess hall for water or whiskey. Preferably both.
Behind him, the hospital doors hissed shut.
And Sico turned to Curie.
A subtle shift happened the moment Hancock left, leadership mode sliding back into place like a steel plate locking into position. But it wasn't cold or rigid. Just… focused. Heavy with responsibility.
Sico stood in the quiet storage room, surrounded by crates stacked taller than some of the soldiers outside. Labels and expiration dates gleamed under the fluorescent lights. A mountain of work, yes but a mountain they finally had the luxury to stand on instead of crumble under.
He crossed his arms and exhaled slowly.
"Curie," he said, voice low, steady. "How long can what we have now last us?"
Curie finished checking a final crate of stimpaks, scribbled a precise note on her clipboard, then lifted her head with bright, relieved eyes.
"With what we recovered today," she said, "we can survive for the next two years."
Sico blinked.
Two years.
Two years of safety.
Two years without scrambling for bandages or running low on antibiotics.
Two years of not praying every fever didn't turn into a funeral.
Curie continued with more optimism bubbling into her tone that rare, but wonderful to hear.
"And that is without counting the shipments from the Institute that have not yet arrived, nor the caravan of medical supplies Magnolia has arranged with the traders," Curie said. "When those arrive, our reserves will grow even further."
For a moment, Sico allowed himself to feel it.
Relief.
Real, unfiltered, bone-deep relief.
"Great," Sico muttered, letting his arms fall to his sides. "For the first time in months… we're not in crisis."
He didn't smile often, but something close tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Two years meant breathing room.
Two years meant planning.
Two years meant the Freemasons Republic wasn't one bad day from collapse.
Curie's hands clasped lightly in front of her chest, radiating her gentle excitement. "This is very good news, Sico. Very, very good. It means fewer risks. Fewer dangerous supply runs. More stability."
He nodded slowly, eyes scanning the stacks one more time.
But then his expression shifted that not darker, not worried. Just… thoughtful. Determined in the way people get right before they change the future.
"But you know what this also means?" Sico said quietly.
Curie tilted her head. "What is that?"
"That it's time we try to make our own medical supply."
Curie froze for a second, then her face lit up like the sunrise over Sanctuary's walls.
"That is… a magnifique idea!" she said, voice rising with a delighted burst of energy. "I will begin working on prototypes immediately!"
Sico gave a tiny nod, but the look in his eyes said he was already ten steps ahead with half-plans forming, new projects unfolding, the Republic's future pressing against the inside of his skull.
"Good," he said. "The Commonwealth won't always give us second chances. We need to be able to stand on our own."
Curie smiled brightly. "And we will. I will not fail you."
"I know," Sico replied simply.
Curie's smile grew even softer at that. She set the clipboard down on the metal counter and began sorting what looked like potential chemical components that could be repurposed later for experiments.
Meanwhile, Sico stepped away from the stacks and leaned one hand on the counter, letting himself breathe for the first time since the convoy left Sanctuary earlier that day.
Outside, he could hear faint laughter. Someone calling for a bucket. Someone else arguing about generator fuel. Children running. Guards greeting returning soldiers. Boots on metal platforms. Sanctuary moving. Living.
And for once, it wasn't moving in panic.
He closed his eyes briefly.
This was what Walker had died for.
Not the crates.
Not the stimpaks.
Not the antibiotics.
But the chance for Sanctuary to finally stop scrambling and start building.
Curie turned to him again, still brimming with excitement. "I can begin experimenting tonight," she said. "I already have ideas. There are several plants in the Commonwealth with strong medicinal properties that could be concentrated or modified. And the Institute technology, if we combine certain elements with what we have here—"
"Not tonight," Sico cut in gently.
Curie blinked. "But—"
"You've been working nonstop for two days," Sico said. "I want you to rest. Eat something. Sleep. Think clearly tomorrow. If you rush, you'll burn yourself out."
Curie opened her mouth to argue, then stopped.
Her shoulders relaxed.
"You are right," she admitted. "It has been… a difficult few days."
He gave a small nod. "More like a difficult life."
Curie laughed softly, shaking her head. "Humans say these things with such simplicity. But it is true. We have all endured much."
Sico exhaled slowly, letting the last threads of tension unwind from his shoulders. Curie stood beside him with that bright, earnest anticipation still blooming in her expression, softening the harsh white glow of the hospital storage lights.
"Curie," he said gently, "you can start tomorrow. After the Institute's shipment arrives… and after Magnolia's traders drop off what they're sending."
Curie paused, the excitement in her eyes flickering into something calmerthat obedient, but still warm.
"Yes," she said with a small nod. "Tomorrow will be perfect."
Sico tipped his head slightly toward the door. "Come on. We're done for today."
Curie pressed the clipboard to her chest and gave the stacked crates one last approving glance, like she was admiring a painting rather than a wall of life-saving supplies. Then she fell into step beside Sico, her footsteps soft and measured against the tile while his were heavier, more grounded, the rhythm of someone who carried too many responsibilities to ever walk lightly.
They left the hospital storage room together.
The hallway outside hummed with the faint buzz of fluorescent lights and distant activity. Voices drifted from various rooms with nurses checking on patients, guards chatting during shift rotations, someone groaning through a bandage change. Nothing frantic. Nothing desperate. Just… normal.
Sanctuary's version of normal.
As they stepped out through the sliding doors into the fading sunlight, Curie inhaled deeply, as if even the outside air tasted better when it wasn't soaked in fear.
"It is good to see our people safe," she murmured, her accent softening the words into something melodic.
Sico didn't say anything. He didn't need to. The sight of Sanctuary moving peacefully, recovering, living, was answer enough.
They walked side by side through the square. Children chased each other around a water pump someone had fixed up; guards chatted idly at their posts, weapons lowered instead of gripped tight; two mechanics argued loudly about whether a spark plug problem could be solved by "just smacking it hard enough."
Curie smiled at all of it.
Sico took it in quietly, committing the small, fragile moment to memory.
When they reached the path that split toward the hospital and the residential houses, Curie stopped and turned to him.
"I will rest," she promised. "Truly."
Sico gave a short nod. "Good. Tomorrow will be a long day."
Curie's smile softened, tender in a way only she could manage without forcing it. "Goodnight, Sico."
"Goodnight."
Curie headed toward her small home near the gardens, while Sico turned back toward the hospital. He wasn't going to sleep yet. He doubted he'd even try. Leaders didn't get the luxury of collapsing just because they were tired.
Someone had to stay awake. Someone had to think.
Someone had to be ready in case the world outside changed its mind again.
The next day, morning came slow and gentle.
A soft gold haze filtered through the hospital windows, casting long stripes across the hallway floor. The early hours were quiet in that specific way Sanctuary always was right before the day truly began as before the hammers started, before the workshops woke up, before patrol shifts swapped and farmers headed toward the fields.
Sico stood inside the hospital storage room, leaning one hand against the steel frame of the doorway. He'd been here for fifteen minutes already, just breathing in the stillness and letting it wash the night off him.
Curie entered a moment later with a bright smile and a notebook hugged against her chest.
"Bonjour," she greeted softly. "I hope I did not keep you waiting long."
Sico shook his head. "You're early."
"I wished to prepare," she said, then hesitated as she looked at the crates. "Even if we are not beginning experiments yet."
He followed her gaze. Towering stacks of stimpaks. Multiple locked boxes of surgical kits. Vault-Tec-grade medpacks. Blood packs, salves, detox agents that more than Sanctuary had ever had in one place.
Curie's expression softened.
"It still feels like a dream," she admitted.
Sico didn't answer, but the faint tightening at the corner of his mouth was his version of a smile.
They were about to go over the entire inventory again, when the air behind them shifted.
A faint vibration.
A hum.
A prickle of energy that made the tiny hairs on their arms rise.
Curie froze. Sico straightened.
Then a burst of blue light flashed in the center of the room.
No warning.
No sound except the snap of displaced air.
The teleportation beam blossomed upward in a column of shimmering cobalt, swirling like a vortex made of electricity and water and impossible technology.
Curie instinctively stepped back.
Sico didn't move, but his jaw tightened. Instinct told him not to reach for a weapon, not when he already knew the signature of that teleportation.
After a second that stretched on too long, the blue light stabilized into a glowing cylinder.
Shapes began to form inside it.
First silhouettes.
Then color.
Then detail.
The light snapped out in a soft pop, leaving twenty synths standing in perfectly straight formation with white armor gleaming, weapons holstered, eyes forward like statues waiting to be animated.
And in front of them.
Nora.
Nora stood tall, one hand resting on her hip, looking like she'd walked straight out of a battlefield and a boardroom at the same time. Her hair tied back, her face determined but calm, her posture steady in that way only someone who had been through hell and refused to stay there could pull off.
Behind the line of synths, twenty-five heavy crates materialized, each stamped with the unmistakable Institute seal and detailed labels written in pristine, calculated handwriting.
For a moment, the room was silent.
Then Nora cracked a tired but sincere smile.
"This," she said, sweeping her arm toward the crates, "is everything I can spare."
Curie's eyes widened in open amazement, her hands flying to her mouth. "Mon Dieu…"
Sico stepped forward slowly, his expression unreadable but the gratitude in his voice unmistakable.
"That's okay," he said. "More than okay. Thank you… for helping us."
Nora let out a breath she'd been holding that maybe for hours, maybe for days.
"You're keeping the Commonwealth together more than anyone realizes," she said. "Helping you is the least I can do."
Curie rushed forward, circling one of the crates like a child who had just discovered a treasure chest. "…this one is filled with advanced antibiotic cultures," she whispered. "And this… oh! This one has gen-2 fusion-powered sterilizers!"
One of the gen-3 synths tilted its head in the faintest trace of amusement as Curie practically vibrated with excitement.
"What about these?" Curie asked, moving to another stack. "Are these—"
"Regenerative coagulants," Nora confirmed. "The Institute started mass-producing them two weeks ago. I pulled strings to divert some."
Curie clasped her hands against her chest, her voice cracking with joy. "Sico… these are beyond valuable. With these… with these we can treat injuries that would have required surgery. Maybe even wounds we would have lost people to."
Sico nodded once, absorbing the weight of what they'd just been given.
This wasn't just a supply shipment.
This was a lifeline.
And Nora had handed it to them willingly.
Nora stepped closer to Sico, lowering her voice.
"I wish I could give you more," she said, and it wasn't an apology—it was a grief.
Sico's expression softened. It was hard to see, subtle as a crack in stone, but it was there.
"You've already given us enough," he replied quietly. "More than enough."
Nora swallowed hard, blinking once, then twice, then lifting her chin.
Sico gestured toward the massive collection of crates. "We'll start moving them in sections. Curie and I will catalog everything today."
Curie nodded vigorously. "I already have a system! Oh! And templates. And color-coded labels!"
Nora's lips twitched. "Of course you do."
One of the synths stepped forward. "Director Nora. Do you require our assistance unloading the crates?"
Nora shook her head. "No. They've got it."
Then she turned back to Sico.
"Anything else you need from me?" she asked.
She said it casually, but there was weight underneath, a quiet readiness, like she was prepared to teleport back into danger if he said the word.
Sico considered her for a long moment.
There was a world of responsibility behind his eyes. Hundreds of people who depended on him. Dozens of future plans stitched together in his mind like a fragile tapestry.
But right now, what he needed wasn't more firepower, or more synths, or even more supplies.
He needed allies who believed in this place.
Who believed in Sanctuary's future.
He shook his head.
"For now? Just rest," he said. "You've done more than enough."
Nora nodded, relief flickering across her face.
Curie was already prying open one of the crates with a crowbar, practically glowing with anticipation. "Sico, look! The Institute sent advanced biomechanical splints! These can reset fractures in twenty minutes!"
Nora huffed a soft laugh. "And people say synths get excited."
Curie didn't even hear her as she was already floating toward the next crate like an eager scientist discovering her life's work.
One of the synths leaned slightly toward Nora. "We will await your command."
Nora waved a hand. "Stand down. Observe the unloading. Help only if they request it."
The synths shifted into a more relaxed stance, though "relaxed" for them still looked like a highly-trained kill squad ready to snap to attention at a single raised eyebrow.
Sico stepped toward the crates and began inspecting the shipment methodically, opening lids, checking seals, reading labels, mentally cataloging which items would need cold storage and which needed immediate placement.
Curie hovered like an excitable electron around him, pointing out properties, explaining uses, rambling about the future possibilities with a near breathless enthusiasm.
"Do you see this? This compound could be synthesized into an emergency clotting foam! Oh and these sterile neuro-gel packs could stabilize someone with a spinal injury long enough for surgery! Sico, do you understand what this means? We can save so many more people!"
He let her speak.
He let her believe.
Because she was right.
Every crate here meant another life saved. Another family kept whole. Another chance for Sanctuary to build instead of break.
Meanwhile, Nora stood a little apart from them, arms loosely folded, watching the two of them with something that wasn't quite envy and wasn't quite peace. Something in between. Something like knowing what it felt like to build a place from ashes that not with certainty, but with stubbornness and hope and sheer, relentless will.
Sico finally glanced back at her.
"You staying long?" he asked.
Nora gave a tired half-smile. "Long enough to know the Commonwealth hasn't killed you yet."
Curie snorted softly behind her stack of crates. "Oh, Sico is difficult to kill. I have seen him try."
Nora barked a tired laugh at that with one of those short, honest bursts she almost never let herself give.
For a moment, the heaviness in her shoulders loosened, her posture easing just enough to make her look her age again that young, but carved by every nightmare the Commonwealth had thrown at her.
Sico just arched an eyebrow at Curie. "Try?"
Curie lifted her chin in a prim, faux-offended way. "Oui. You do not always make healthy decisions."
Nora's lips pulled into a smirk. "That sounds about right."
But the amusement faded slowly, replaced by something more serious, quieter, something that lived behind her eyes rather than on her face. She glanced around the storage room again with the freshly stacked crates, the synths standing in respectful silence, the order this place radiated even in exhaustion.
"You're doing good work here," she said softly.
It wasn't flattery. It wasn't obligation.
It was recognition, from one leader who learned everything the hard way, to another who was still learning but refusing to falter.
Sico held her gaze for a moment. He didn't say thank you, not verbally, but something in the set of his shoulders answered for him.
Nora breathed out slowly, then stepped back as the teleportation recall light began to shimmer behind her in a faint blue circle that crawled up from the floor like rising mist.
"Well," she said, voice turning firm, "I should get back. I've already been away longer than the directorate will tolerate without asking five different kinds of questions."
Curie turned, expression falling just a little with disappointment. "You cannot stay for tea?"
Nora laughed, shaking her head. "If I stay for tea, Allie Filmore is going to assume I died."
One of the gen-3 synths stepped into formation behind her, the others mirroring the motion with perfect symmetry. The recall beam climbed higher, brighter, painting the edges of Nora's armor in cold cobalt light.
She gave Sico one last look that steady, loyal, trusting in a way she rarely let herself show.
"If you need me," she said, "you know how to reach me."
Sico nodded. "I'll call only when it matters."
"It always matters," Nora whispered.
But she didn't argue.
The light swallowed them in a flash as Nora and all twenty synths dissolving into a pillar of brilliant blue that snapped upward and vanished, leaving behind only drifting particles of light that winked out one by one.
Then silence.
Curie exhaled with a soft, awed sound. "It never ceases to amaze me…"
Sico didn't respond. He was already moving toward the nearest crate, flipping the lid up again, mentally preparing for the long hours ahead. This was good. This was necessary. This would keep Sanctuary alive.
But the quiet didn't last long.
Not even a minute after the teleport dissipated, the main hospital doors burst open with a clatter and the loud, warm voice of someone who had never once entered a room quietly.
"Well look what we got here! A whole party happenin' without me, shameful."
Curie's head snapped up.
Sico already recognized the walk before he even turned.
Magnolia.
Not the singer from Goodneighbor anymore—no, the woman who stepped into the storage room now was dressed in a long travelling coat dusted with the grit of the road, scarf loose around her neck, her hair tied up for practicality rather than style. Behind her stood Sarah Lyons in her full Freemasons armor, visor pushed up, looking both exhausted and stubbornly triumphant.
And behind them with a train of Sanctuary soldiers hauling crate after crate through the hallway.
The room, once tidy and quiet, instantly became a moving river of boots, voices, metal, and the grunts of people pushing their strength further than their bodies wanted.
Magnolia grinned wide, hands on her hips like she had just walked into a successful surprise party she herself planned.
"Well, Sico," she said, sauntering toward him with the swagger of someone who had negotiated half the Commonwealth into giving up something valuable, "hope you've had your morning coffee, sweetheart, because I've brought you a little gift."
Sico blinked slowly. "…Define 'little.'"
Magnolia snapped her fingers dramatically, and two soldiers near the doorway pivoted, revealing a towering stack of boxes with each one freshly sealed, stamped with various trader marks from Diamond City, Bunker Hill, Goodneighbor, and even a few smaller caravan lines.
"I managed to get thirty boxes of medical supplies," she declared with a flourish. "Some paid, some bargained, some begged, and one or two… perhaps acquired through what Sarah here calls 'morally flexible diplomacy.'"
Sarah shot her a look. "It's not called that."
Magnolia shrugged. "It is now."
Curie gasped in delight, nearly knocking over the notebook in her hands. "Thirty?! Truly?"
Magnolia smirked. "Count them yourself, darling. The boys nearly broke their backs carrying them, so I hope the Commonwealth appreciates the effort."
Sico let out a slow breath that not disbelief, not shock, but relief so deep it felt like gravity releasing him for the first time in days.
"Good," he said, voice low but sincere. "Damn good work, Magnolia."
"Of course it's good work," she replied, tapping his arm lightly with her knuckle. "You asked for help. I deliver help. That's how this partnership works."
Sico turned toward Curie. "Once they finish bringing everything in, start counting the total. We need to know exactly how much we've added to the stockpile."
Curie straightened instantly, snapping into professional readiness. "Oui! I will begin as soon as the last box is placed. Everything will be categorized, sorted, and double-checked."
Magnolia chuckled. "Knew I picked the right scientist to impress."
Curie flushed.
Meanwhile, Sarah walked up beside Sico, lowering her voice so only he could hear. "Magnolia nearly got shot twice. I strongly recommend we send a larger escort next time."
Magnolia called from across the room without looking back, "I did not nearly get shot twice."
Sarah rolled her eyes. "…She nearly got shot twice."
The unloading took time as it was long, sweaty, back breaking time. Soldiers formed lines, passing crates down the chain, stacking them neatly where Curie directed. The room slowly transformed from empty aisles to mountains of potential miracles.
When the last box finally thudded to the floor, Curie clapped her hands together sharply.
"I begin counting now!"
And she did.
With the speed and precision of a woman who had dreamed of days like this.
Crate lids opened.
Labels were read, scribbled down, cross-checked.
Magnolia and Sarah watched like proud parents while Sico moved among the stacks, inspecting, testing weight, checking seals, sorting the high-value items into the cold storage corner.
It took almost two hours before Curie finally straightened, stretching her back until it cracked, then adjusting her glasses with the triumphant air of a scholar about to read final exam results.
"Sico," she said breathlessly, "I have finished!"
Magnolia leaned closer to Sarah. "This is going to be good."
Curie held her notebook like it was a holy book. "After calculating the Institute shipment, Magnolia's supply crates, the emergency stockpile from last week, and our long-term reserves—"
She looked up, eyes wide, glowing with something close to disbelief.
"—we now have enough medical supplies to sustain Sanctuary for the next three and a half years."
She said it like she could hardly believe the words leaving her own mouth. "Three and a half. If my calculations are correct." She added quickly but confidently, "And they are correct."
Sico didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Didn't even breathe for a second.
Three and a half years.
Three and a half years of safety.
Three and a half years of healing.
Three and a half years where people wouldn't have to panic over a shortage of antibiotics or med-packs or sterile tools.
Three and a half years where a single infection wouldn't be a death sentence.
Curie pressed a hand to her chest, like the number physically warmed her from the inside.
"But this is only if there is no massive incident," she continued carefully. "No large war. No catastrophic attack. Under normal circumstances… we will be more than secure."
The room felt different after she said it.
Lighter.
Brighter.
Like the weight every single person carried these past months finally loosened its grip.
Magnolia's smirk softened into something genuine. "That means you can all stop having heart attacks every time someone gets a paper cut."
Sarah let out a slow, stunned breath. "Three and a half years… I didn't think we'd ever see numbers like that."
A nearby soldier whispered, almost reverently, "We're safe… for real."
Curie nodded firmly. "For now, yes. We have stability. Sico, this is incredible."
Sico finally exhaled with a long, quiet, exhausted breath that seemed to drain months of tension from his bones.
He didn't smile.
But his expression shifted into something rare.
Something warm.
Something human.
"…Good," he said softly. "Good."
He ran his hand along the top of one of the crates, tapping the lid once with a thoughtful, grounded firmness.
"We're not just surviving anymore."
His voice rose slightly that enough for everyone in the room to hear.
"We're building a future."
It wasn't a speech.
But it hit like one.
Magnolia crossed her arms, eyes shining with a pride she didn't bother hiding.
Sarah straightened in quiet agreement, shoulders squared.
Curie practically vibrated with bright, scientific joy.
And the soldiers…
The regular, tired, bruised soldiers…
They stood a little taller.
Because for the first time in a very long time, Sanctuary didn't feel fragile.
It felt prepared.
Curie stepped forward, touching the pages of her notebook with trembling fingers, the gravity of the moment settling into her expression.
"I will organize the supply room immediately," she said. "And prepare a full report. Then, after that… I begin tomorrow's medical work as planned."
Magnolia stretched with a loud, dramatic sigh. "And I will be going to find a drink, because holy hell, this day has earned me one."
Some of the soldiers laughed for the first time all morning.
Sarah nudged Sico's shoulder gently. "You did good."
Sico looked around the room at the crates, at the people, at the impossible progress made in a single morning.
"…We all did."
Curie nodded fiercely. "Oui. Together."
Magnolia winked. "Now that is a line worthy of a poster slogan."
Sarah groaned, "Please don't start making propaganda."
But even she smiled.
The storage room buzzed with the kind of energy that only came after victory that's not of battle, but of survival. Of effort. Of community.
Curie closed her notebook with a satisfied snap. "Three and a half years…"
She whispered it again like a prayer.
And for the first time in a long, hard, since she find out about the depleted medical supply, she felt peace and now began to focus on making their own medical supply.
________________________________________________
• Name: Sico
• Stats :
S: 8,44
P: 7,44
E: 8,44
C: 8,44
I: 9,44
A: 7,45
L: 7
• Skills: advance Mechanic, Science, and Shooting skills, intermediate Medical, Hand to Hand Combat, Lockpicking, Hacking, Persuasion, and Drawing Skills
• Inventory: 53.280 caps, 10mm Pistol, 1500 10mm rounds, 22 mole rats meat, 17 mole rats teeth, 1 fragmentation grenade, 6 stimpak, 1 rad x, 6 fusion core, computer blueprint, modern TV blueprint, camera recorder blueprint, 1 set of combat armor, Automatic Assault Rifle, 1.500 5.56mm rounds, power armor T51 blueprint, Electric Motorcycle blueprint, T-45 power armor, Minigun, 1.000 5mm rounds, Cryolator, 200 cryo cell, Machine Gun Turret Mk1 blueprint, electric car blueprint, Kellogg gun, Righteous Authority, Ashmaker, Furious Power Fist, Full set combat armor blueprint, M240 7.62mm machine guns blueprint, Automatic Assault Rifle blueprint, and Humvee blueprint.
• Active Quest:-