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He only had one question, really.
It’s hard to eak out through his chest because it hurts so much. Not the question that was causing pain, no, no. However, the thought of the answer was fraught with pain and fear. Trufully, it was the machinery pumping air into Shaun's lungs, and the needles keeping his veins full of drugs and medicine. Not a single piece of his body functioned without aid. His body was racked with sores; his bones were pitted and weak. His muscles simply refused to function anymore.
And his heart.
Shaun's heart ached as his Institute crumbled to those wretches from the surface, screams and lasers and bullets flying as he could do nothing. He could do nothing, and all he had on his mind was a question for the person who caused it all.
It was a simple question, really.
But he could not ask it. He could not ask it because he would not. How could this woman care if she was destroying everything he built? Everything Shaun created. His entire life's purpose? He could only stare at her with ill contempt. She only stroked the iron lung that encased him, looking out the window with calmness. How could she love with such a demure, weak expression on her face?
They remained in silence. As silent as one could be in an active war zone. He truly did not know what to say, but rage boiled in his chest. The iron lung wheezed and whistled as she continued not to say a single word.
Shaun wheezed.
“You’ve-” He coughed. “Taken everything from me.”
He glared at her. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
She turned to look at him. Her face creased, and her head tilted. She opened her mouth before closing it. Mother looked perplexed. Shy. Confused. Like the words she wanted to say were simply beyond her. Shaun did not understand. He did not. Could she not just say what she was thinking?
“What would you like me to say?” She whispered quietly, after a not quiet moment. Her voice was too meek. Too deep and took meek.
It made him angry.
Shaun coughed. His chest raged in pain and fury as he attempted to force words from his throat. He thought of the arduous task of creating a path for her to follow. He remembered how she ignored that path.
“You saw me get taken,” he wretched, acid bubbling in his throat. The only thing he thought to say was his question.
She nodded to herself, stroking the iron lung. She tugged at her dreads before taking a deep breath. Mother moved her chair beside Shaun and put her hands on her lap. He looked at her, barely able to see her now.
“I…” she pursed her lips. “I did.”
She sighed. “I thought you died.”
“Well, I didn’t,” Shaun coughed. “Not that you bothered to check.”
She winced. Good. She should feel pain for this. For destroying his life. Everything he cared for. Shaun wished he could bring down all the pain from hell onto her in this moment. But he could not. So he waited in not silence. He waited for a response.
What response could there be for this?
She did not look at him.
She did not care.
That was the answer to his question.
There was silence again. Mother stroked the side of the bed, and all that could be heard was the iron lung. Shaun didn’t look at her in return. He didn’t want to spend these precious few moments looking at this person.
It was she who broke the silence.
“Your father… would have been better at this,” Mother said absent-mindedly. “He was always softer. Warmer. He would’ve tried harder.”
Shaun scoffed. He didn’t care that his father would have been better. Would have actually tried to find him. It didn’t matter. It truly didn’t.
“He is not here,” Shaun growled.
Mother nodded.
“He is not,” She said quietly.
Shaun dared a glance at her. An explosion rocked the room, and she turned to look at it. In the light of the explosion, he saw exhaustion etched across her face. Age creases in a person who was not nearly old enough for them. Worry crossed her face as she stared out into the promenade of the institute.
True worry. True care.
Shaun had one question, really. His answer was given in that moment, he supposed.
“What is it you want, Mother?” He asked, bringing her attention back. Her face immediately flattened, all previous signs of worry disappearing. He simply saw exhaustion peering back at him.
“I want to evacuate people,” She said, her face flashing with seriousness. “The Minutemen will destroy this place. The people don’t need to die with it.”
Shaun let out a breath he didn’t know he had. The Iron Lung creaked, and lights flashed outside the window. Mother would destroy this place, but save the people? She would show mercy unto them, despite the cruelty was committing now.
Contradictory.
But… he supposed it was good- morally. The Institute might survive in its survivors. And, Mother needed the evacuation code from him. She would be indebted to him forever because of that. Despite everything that was going on, that mattered to him.
Yes. It was good.
“I will tell you,” Shaun said, taking a deep breath.
“I will tell you, and then you leave.”
A flicker of something flashed on Mother's face. He could not tell what.
“Thank you, Shaun.”